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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
Orobio OROBIO, Baltasar (sometimes called Isaac de
II Castro), a celebrated Spanish Jew, born in the early part
Orontes. 0f ^ seventeenth century, and educated in Judaism by his
parents, who outwardly professed themselves Catholics.
Orobio studied the scholastic philosophy as taught in Spain,
and became so skilled in it that he was appointed professor
of metaphysics in the university of Salamanca. After¬
wards, however, having applied himself to the study of
physic, he practised that art with success at Seville, till,
being accused of Judaism, he was thrown into the prison
of the Inquisition, and suffered the most dreadful cruelties,
in order to extort a confession. After a confinement of
three years, the inquisitors, finding themselves baffled by
his perseverance in denying his religion, ordered his wounds
to be cured, and discharged him. As soon as he had ob¬
tained his liberty, he proceeded to France, and was made
professor of physic at Toulouse, He resided lor some time
in this city, still outwardly professing the Catholic religion ;
but at last, weary of dissembling, he repaired to Amster¬
dam, where he was circumcised, took the name of Isaac,
and professed Judaism, still continuing, however, to prac¬
tise physic, in which he was much esteemed. Upon the
publication of Spinoza’s work, he is said to have soon dis¬
covered the weak points in the system of the great pan¬
theist ; and when Bredenburg’s answer to it appeared,
Orobio, being persuaded that the writer, in refuting Spinoza,
had also admitted some principles which tended to atheism,
took up his pen against both, and in 1684 published a
piece entitled Certamen Philosophicum, characterized by
great acuteness and power. But the dispute in which he
engaged with the celebrated Philip Limborch against the
Christian religion made the greatest noise. In this he ex¬
erted the utmost force of his metaphysical genius, and con¬
ducted himself with great temper. The three papers which
he wrote on the occasion were afterwards printed by his an¬
tagonist in an account which he published of the contro¬
versy, under the title of Arnica Collatio cum Judceo.
Orobio died in 1687. (See Israel Avenged, translated
and answered by Dr M'Caul, 8vo, London, 1839.)
ORONTES, the most famous river in ancient Syria,
rises at the foot of Anti-Libanus, winds along in a northerly
course for 200 miles, and then taking a sudden bend near
VOL. XVII.
Antioch in a south-westerly direction, flows over a space of Oroshaza
40 miles to the Mediterranean Sea. The notices ot its ||
fame in classical times are chiefly found in Strabo. His Orosms.
account is, that the river flowed for a part ot its course
under ground; that its name was derived from a certain
Orontes who built a bridge over it; and that it had been
originally called Typhon, from a fabulous dragon which, in
his flight for shelter, wore out the channel of the stream
with his trail, and opened up the fountain-head by his
plunge into the earth. In the present day, the Orontes
dwindles down into a paltry rivulet during the heat of
summer. In winter, however, it becomes swollen by the
melting of the mountain snows, and whirls along its deep
and narrow bed with a resistless rapidity which has gained
for it its modern name of Aasi (“ The Rebel”).
OROSHAZA, a town of Hungary, county of Bekes,
40 miles N.E. of Szegedin. An active trade is carried
on in cattle, sheep, and pigs, of which large numbers are
reared in the vicinity. The wine made in the neighbour¬
hood is the best in the county. Pop. (1851) 10,915.
OROSIUS, Paulus, a learned presbyter of Spain, born
towards the close of the fourth century at larragona, on the
shores of the Mediterranean. After spending some time
in study in his native country, he passed over to Africa to
enjoy the instructions of the celebrated St Augustine,
Bishop of Hippo Regius. How long he remained there
before returning to Spain cannot be precisely ascertained.
It is known, however, that Orosius was despatched by the
Spanish bishops Eutropius and Paul (a.d. 414) to consult
St Augustine on several abstruse points of doctrine then
under dispute. On this occasion Diosius wrote CoTisultatxo
sive Commonitorium Orosii ad Augustinum de errore Pris-
cillianistarum et Origenistarum ; to which Augustine pub¬
lished the reply, Ad Orosium contra Priscillianistas et Ori-
genistas ; both of which pieces are to be found in the works
of the Bishop of Hippo. During the following year Orosius
set out for Palestine, at the recommendation of Augustine,
to consult St Jerome, the best scholar and critic of the early
church, then engaged on his Latin version of the Scrip¬
tures. The active intelligence, gentle bearing, and calm
modesty of the young Spaniard, won the heart of the great
scholar, and he showed him as much kindness as Augustine
A
V
O R 0
O R T
Orotava had done before him. While resident in Palestine, Orosius
II had occasion to break a lance with Pelagms. In a synod
Orpheus. held at Jerusalem on the 30th July a.d. 415, the Spanish
nresbvter was called upon to oppose that heretic and his
disciples, which led to the publication of the famous treatise
Apologia contra Pelagium de Arbitrii rfterwards
appended to the author’s History of the H orld. On h‘s
home to Spain in 416 a.d., Orosius took occasion, in acco.d-
ance with his promise, to visit Augustine at Hippo,
had just been captured and pillaged a few years previous y
by the Visigoths, who were converts to Christianity.
This gave rise to the calumnious assertion, industrious y p -
mulgated by the heathens of that time, that Christianity
had been injurious rather than beneficial to mankind. Au
gustine took up his pen in defence of the ca^e ; and
his famous De Cimtate Dei, showed, by an appeal to histo
deal facts, that precisely the opposite was true. On this
work the bishop was engaged when Orosiu, fi^t visite
him ; and Augustine endeavoured to induce the zeal™
Spaniard to embark in a simiiar undertakmg, and d° fo the
facts of general history what he had done for the facts of
the history of the church in his City of God. Ihis wa*
the origin of Orosius’ well-known Histonarum adversus
Paganos Libri VJL, dedicated to St Augustine. Part of
it is said to have been put together in Africa, and t
probably completed about a.d. 416, the date at which the
narrative closes. It is written with great force and brevity,
and soon attained a wide popularity. It was lauded by
popes, translated by kings, and read by all. The
princeps of the History was printed at Vrenna as eariy as
1471; but the best edition is unquestionably that ol Ha-
vercamp, Lugd. Bat., 4to, 1738. A number of other pieces
have been ascribed to Orosius, but no complete edition of
his works has yet appeared. (For further information
specting Orosius, the reader may consult the works of
J. W. Holier, 1689; of Dalmasses y Roz 1702, ot U
A.Haumann; 1732; of G. F. H. Beck, 1834 ; and of
P. T. von Moerner, 1844.) . , TT. .
Kino- Alfred transferred the substance of Orosius Histoi y
from the original Latin into Anglo-Saxon for the instruction
of his people. Of this royal version three separate editions
have been published in this country ; one by Haines Barring¬
ton, with an English translation, 8vo, London 1773 lull ot
inaccuracies ; another by B. Thorpe, with an English trans¬
lation, 8vo, London, 1853, appended to Paulis Life oj
Alfred the Great in Bohn’s “ Antiquarian Library ; and a
third, with the English version only, but containing an intro¬
duction and valuable notes by Dr Bosworth, London, 1855.
OROTAVA, a town of the island ot Teneritte, capital
of a district of the same name, is built on the slope ol a
hill on the N. coast, 1200 feet above the leve of the sea
It is regularly laid out, the streets extending along the lull
one behind the other. Of the two churches ot Orotava,
one is a handsome building with three naves and contains
a marble tabernacle brought from Genoa. There are also
in the town two schools and an hospital. ”0p.
About 2 miles off stands a town called Puerto de la Oro¬
tava, with a harbour, which serves as the seaport of Orotava.
By this a considerable trade is carried on ; and it ^ trom
hence that the wines of the island are exported. Pop. 4600.
ORPHEUS, a celebrated poet and musician, who lived
at such an early period that his history is involved in table,
and many doubt if we have any facts respecting him on
which dependence can be placed. According to the com¬
mon mythology, he was a native of Thrace, being born
in a cave at Pimpleia, a city of Pieria, which was then in¬
cluded in Thrace (Schol. Apollon, i. 25; Strab. vii. 330,
x. 471). He is said to have been son of Apollo, or of
Glagrus, King of Thrace, and of tlie Muse Calliope (Diodor,
ii. 64). He was the brother of Linus (Apollodor. ii. 4,9),
and the pupil of Musaeus (Clemens. Strom, i., p. 332), or his
place)! b^fei^ebiiishgb^-fi^years before*the of Ti-oy. 0JU^
He visited Egypt, and was there initiated in all the learning
of the priests. When he returned to Thrace, he instituted
1 mys.Tr£ of Bacchus, which, according to Herodotus
(ii. 81), included opinions which were afterwards promul¬
gated by Pythagoras. He studied also under the Dacty 1
Idafi of Crete (Diodor. v. 64), and was the friend and com¬
panion of Cadmus, the founder of Thebes. He took a
distinguished part in the Argonautic expedition, and saved
his companions from the fascination of the Sirens by the
Sirm of his golden lyre (Apollodor i. 9 25). On he
death of his wife Eurydice, he is said to have visited the
infernal regions, and, through the intercession of Proser¬
pine, obtained permission from Pluto that Euiydice should
return with him to earth, provided he would engage not to
look on her till he reached the upper world. He broke bis
promise, and Eurydice instantly disappeared (1. 3, 2). A
different version of the descent into Hades is given by
Plato (Syrup, and Politf who represents the gods as having
imposed upon Orpheus by showing him only a phantasm of
his lost wife, as a mark of their detestation of his cowardice
in being afraid to die. How and where he died is variously
stated. Some say that he died of grief for the loss ot Eu¬
rydice ; others allege that he was killed by lightning, be¬
cause he revealed to man what the gods intended should be
concealed from them ; or that he was torn to pieces by the
Msenades of Thrace for some disrespect shown to Bacchus,.
Olympus, Pangseus, and Flaemus are all named as the
place of his catastrophe. The poets indicated the sweet¬
ness of his music by feigning that it was capable of moving
the very stones and trees. Lucian tells a story of the head
and lyre of Orpheus being thrown by the Thracian women
into the Hebrus, and, as they floated down, the motion of
the water brought them into contact, and the divine instru¬
ment gave forth strains of the most doleful and bewitching
sweetness. The head and lyre having reached the island of
Lesbos, the former was buried on the spot where the tem¬
ple of Bacchus afterwards stood, and the lyre was long pre¬
served in the temple of Apollo. According to Eratosthenes
(Catast. 24), it was placed by Jupiter in the heavens, and
formed the constellation called Lyia. » , .
There can be no doubt that there was an early poet of this
name, but Aristotle considered all the works which were
circulated under his name as spurious (Cic., Defeat. Veor. 1.
381 • and Cicero ascribes them to Cercops, a 1 ythagorean,
or to Onomacritus (Clemens, /. c.) The hymn to Jupiter
quoted by Stobaeus (p. 40), is certainly very ancient as it
?s alluded to by Aristotle (DeMund. Op., t. 1., p. 47o), and
is not to be confounded with the productions of the later
Platonic school, which we have under the title of the Ui-
nhic Hymns. These hymns present a mixture ot the theo-
loo-ical ideas of the Greeks, Jews, and even Christians ; so
that there can be no doubt of the period in which they weie
written. The editions of the Orphica have been very va¬
rious. That of Hermann, Leipsic, 8vo, 1805, is unques¬
tionably the best. An English version of the Orpine
Hymns, with a preliminary dissertation, was published by
Thomas Taylor in 1787.
ORRERY, Earl of. See Boyle, Charles.
ORRERY. See Planetary Machines.
ORSOVA (Old and Neiv), the name of two towns on
the Danube, the former belonging to Austria, and the latter
to Turkey. Old Orsova stands on the left ban^ °(. the
river, 90 miles S.E. of Temesvar, in the Banat Military
Frontier. It is fortified, and has manufactories of leather.
Pop. 1000. New Orsova, which belongs to the province of
Servia, stands on an island in the river W. of Old Orsova,
and is strongly fortified. Pop. 2800. (See Danube.)
ORTELIUS, Abraham, a celebrated geographer, caiiect
the Ptolemy of his time, was born at Antwerp in lo_J.
O R T
Orthez He resided at Oxford in the reign of Edward VI.; came a
II second time into England in 1577 ; and is saul to have per-
Orvieto. guaded Camden to write his Britannica. His^ Ineatrum
Orbis Terrarum, published at Antwerp in 1570, was the
most complete work of the kind which had yet appeared, and
gained him great reputation. He also wrote several othei
geographical works, the principal ot which are, Ins Syno-
nymia Geograpkica, Antwerp, 1578, and hxs Thesaurus
Geographic^, Antwerp, 1594. He died at Antwerp in
ORTHEZ, a town of France, department of Lower
Pyrenees, stands on a hill 892 feet above the sea on the
right bank of the Gave de Pau, 24 miles N.W. of
Pan, and 37 E, of Bayonne. The town is regularly
laid out and well built, having been recently much im¬
proved. The river is here crossed by an old Gothic bridge
of four arches, with a tower in the centre. Among the
public buildings is a handsome town-hall and an old parish
church. On a height above the town stand the remains of
the castle of Moncada, built by Gaston de Foix in 1240.
These consist of a few dilapidated walls, with one lofty
tower. Orthez contains a college and a court of the first
instance. Manufactures of linen and woollen stuffs, leather,
copper, and other articles are carried on. There is an ac¬
tive and extensive trade in hides, hams, wool, cattle, horses,
timber, slates, marble, &c. Orthez was formerly a place
of considerable importance, as it was the residence of the
princes of Bearn until the end of the fifteenth century,
when they removed to Pau. The castle of Moncada was at
one time the residence of Jeanne d’AIbret, Queen of
Navarre, the mother of Henri IV., who established a Pro¬
testant college in the town. Orthez suffered much during
the civil wars in France after the Reformation. Viscount
d’Orthez, governor of the town, was one of the few who
nobly refused to obey the royal order for the massacre of
St Bartholomew. On the 27th of February 1814 a vic¬
tory was gained by Wellington, with 37,000 troops, over
Soult, with 40,000, in the vicinity of Orthez. In the re¬
treat the French attempted, but unsuccessfully, to blow up
the bridge over the Gave de Pau. Pop. 6619.
ORTHOGRAPHIC Projection of the Sphere, that
in which the eye is supposed to be at an infinite distance.
It is so called because the perpendiculars from any point
of the sphere will all fall in the common intersection of
the sphere with the plane of the projection.
ORTHOGRAPHY. See Grammar.
ORTONA, a town of Naples, province of Abruzzo-Citra,
on the shore of the Adriatic, 11 miles E. of Chiete. It
contains a cathedral and several other churches ; and gives
its title to a bishop. There is a small harbour, by means
of which an active trade is carried on in the wine grown in
the vicinity, said to be the best in this part of Italy. Or-
tona occupies the site of the ancient town of the same name,
which was the principal maritime town of the Frentani.
Some ancient remains have been found here. Pop. 6000.
ORURO, a mining town of Bolivia, capital of a depart¬
ment of the same name, stands on a bare hill, 13,000 feet
above the sea, on the right bank of the Desagnadero, where
it falls into Lake Aullagus. The population has declined
very much, and the town is surrounded by the ruins of
houses that were once inhabited. Pop. 6000.
The department of Oruro is bounded on the N. by the
department La Paz, E. by those of Cochabamba and Chu-
quisaca, S. by that of Potosi, and W. by Peru ; area, 25,842
square miles. Pop. 117,000.
ORVIETO, a town of the Papal States, capital of a
delegation of the same name, stands on a steep hill at the
confluence of the Paglia and Chiana, 16 miles N.E. of
Bolsena, and about 60 N.N.W. of Rome. It is a clean,
well-built town, surrounded by walls ; and contains several
fine palaces. Besides the episcopal palace, the chief of
O S C 3
these are,—the Gualterio, containing frescoes by Domeni- Osaka
chino, Albano, and other artists; and the Palazzo Petran- II
geli, with a fine collection of paintings by Pietro Perugino. SCri°P °’
The cathedral, founded in 1290, is an Italian-Gothic edifice, ^ ^
with a front richly adorned with sculptures and mosaics,
which is considered one of the finest in Italy. In the inte¬
rior are many valuable paintings, and a large collection of
sculptures. Orvieto contains several other churches, a
Jesuits’ college, and a town-hall; but the principal other
object of interest is St Patrick’s Well, excavated by order of
Clement VII. in the tufo rock, about a mile from the town.
Many Etruscan remains have been found here, this town
having been built on the site of the ancient Herbanum.
Some trade is carried on in cattle, corn, wine, and silk.
Pop. 8000. The delegation of Orvieto has an area of 300
square miles. Pop. (1853) 29,047.
OSAKA, or Osacca, a city of Japan, in the island of
Niphon, near the head of a gulf of the same name, on the
banks of the Yedogawa, which here divides itself into seve¬
ral branches. It is one of the five cities under the direct
government of the Siogoon, or military emperor of Japan ;
and is defended by fortifications, and by a castle of great
size at the north-eastern corner of the city. The middle
channel of the river, though narrow, is navigable, and has
a great depth; and many of the principal streets have
navigable canals running through them. A great number
of bridges, built of cedar wood, span these canals and the
river; and many of them are large and elegantly adorned.
The streets are regularly laid out at right angles to each
other, and, with the exception of side causeways for foot
passengers, they are quite unpaved, but clean and well kept.
Along the banks of the river and canals there are several
rows of coarsely-hewn freestone, arranged in the manner of
steps, all throughout the town. The houses are in general
built of wood, lime, and clay, and are two storeys high.
Osaka contains a theatre and race-course ; in which, as well
as in other places of amusement, so many public exhibi¬
tions are carried on, that the city has been called by the
Japanese the “ universal theatre of pleasure and diversion.”
Many manufactures are pursued in the town and its vicinity ;
among which is that of saki, a kind of beer obtained from
rice, which is exported to other parts of Japan. Some trade
is carried on by junks between this place and Hakodadi.
Osaka is said to be able to raise from among its own inhabi¬
tants an army of 80,000 men.
OSCHATZ, a town of Saxony, circle of Leipsic, on
the Dbllnitz, an affluent of the Elbe, 31 miles E.S.E. of
Leipsic. It is surrounded by ancient fortifications, and
contains many fine buildings. The town was in great,
part destroyed by a conflagration in 1842; and since that
time there have been built a handsome new council-house,
and an elegant church in the Gothic style, with two open
spires, 276 feet in height. Besides another church, Oschatz
contains courts of law and an hospital. Cloth, shoes, nets,
tiles, and other articles are made. It was here that the
treaty of peace was concluded between I rederic the Great
and the Empress Maria 1 heresa which put an end to the
Seven Years' War, in 1763. Pop. 5460.
OSCHOPHOHIA, a festival celebrated by the Athe¬
nians, and which receives its name a7ro tov fepav ras dcrx«s,
from carrying boughs hung with grapes, which were called
bvyai. The original institution is mentioned by Plutarch,
who ascribes it to Theseus, and says it was held in honour
of Bacchus and Ariadne; but other writers maintain that
it was celebrated in honour of Minerva and Bacchus. On
the day of the festival, which probably occurred about the
beginning of the Attic month Pyanepsion,two youths, whose
parents were still alive, walked in procession, accompanied
by a numerous retinue bearing vine branches hung with
fresh grapes, from the temple of Bacchus to that of Minerva.
Song and dance enlivened the march, and a sacrifice ensued.
4 O S E
Osero The proceedings were concluded by a race, in which young
|| men only whose parents were both alive had permission to
Osnaburg. engage. It was customary for them to run from the temp e
^ of Bacchus to that of Minerva, which was on-the sea-shore.
The reward of the conqueror was a cup called,^TrcvraTrAoa,
five-fold, because it contained a mixture of five different in¬
gredients,—viz., wine, honey, cheese, meal, and oil.
OSERO, or Lossini, an island of Austria, in the circle
of Trieste, Illyria, lies to the S.W. of the island of Cher so,
with which it is connected by a bridge; area, square
miles. The inhabitants cultivate vines, olives, and trait
trees, rear sheep, and catch fish. The princ.pa town is
Lossini Piccolo, with the chief harbour in the island. It
has distilleries, and a considerable trade in wine. Pop. 51. y.
The other towns are Lossini Grande (pop. 2389); and Oseio
(pop. 1157). Pop. of the island, 10,600.
1 OSIMO, atown of the Papal States, m the delegation of
Ancona, stands in a rich and lively neighbourhood, on a
hill on the Musone, 8 miles S.S.W. of Ancona. It is well
built, and has a cathedral and other churches, an epis¬
copal palace, and a town-hall, containing a collection of
ancient statues and other remains found in the vicinity.
This town occupies the site of the ancient Auximus, a p ace
which became a Roman colony in lo7 b.c.; after which
period it was of considerable importance, especially in the
wars of Belisarius, to whom it offered great resistance.
1 °OSIRIS, one of the deities of the Egyptian Pantheon.
(See Egypt, sect. 1.) ,
OSNABURG (Germ. Qsnabruck), a town of Hanover,
capital of a province of the same name, stands in a valley
on the Hase, a tributary of the Ems, l \ mi es W. by S. o
Hanover. It is surrounded by an old wall and ditch, and
is entered by five gates. It is regularly laid out and the
most part of the houses are low and meanly built, but m
the vicinity there are many handsome country houses.
The cathedral is a fine edifice in the Romanesque style,
built in the eleventh and beginning of the twelfth century.
It has two square towers, and contains, among other cmi-
osities, a richly-carved comb, said to have belonged to
Charlemagne ; relics of St Crispin St Cnspian and other
saints ; and many valuable gold and silver crucifixes. ie
Lutheran churches of St Katherine and St Mary, and
the Roman Catholic one of St John, are among the edi¬
fices most worthy of note in Osnaburg. The town-house,
fine castellated building, contains the hall in which, at
OSS
Osorio
the same time as in Munster, the treaty of Westphalia was
concluded in 1648. The portraits of the ambassadors at
this congress are still to be seen in the hall; and the town-
house contains a collection of ancient drinking-vessels,
arms, coins, and other antiquities. 1 he town contains also
several schools, hospitals, a workhouse, and a house of cor¬
rection. Manufactures of coarse woollen stuffs, leathei, linen,
tobacco, and chemical products are carried on; and there
is an active trade in these articles, in cattle, and agucu -
tural produce. Linen is also made in aige quan i
the vicinity, and sent hither to be stamped and sold. Us-
naburg was a village of some importance as eaily as the
time of Charlemagne. In 1082 it was first oiti e , an
at a later period it entered the Hanseatic League. *
not, however, attain the dignity of a free city. n
a castle was built near the walls of Osnaburg by is op
Francis William, in order to reduce to obedience t le ci i-
zens, many of whom had embraced the Protestant ait i,
but this was destroyed by them in 1647. Ihe province o
Osnaburg has an area of 2407 square miles, and is bounde
on the N. by the province of Aurich and the duchy ol
Oldenburg, E. and S. by Rhenish Prussia, and W. by
Holland. ° Belonging to the plain of Northern Germany,
the surface is almost entirely level, and the soil, being
sandy and barren, yields but a scanty supply of corn.
The principal productions are, cattle, hemp, and flax; while
coarse linen and woollen fabrics are the chief among the
manufactures. The country is famous for its Jiams, which ,  
are largely exported. The present province of Osnaburg /-
nearly corresponds to the ancient bishopric of that name,
which was the earliest see founded in Saxony by Charle¬
magne. Many of the people having become Protestants,
it was decided by the treaty of Westphalia that the see
should be held alternately by a Roman Catholic and by a
Protestant bishop, the latter to be always chosen from the
House of Brunswick-LUnehurg. The last prince bishop
of Osnaburo- was Frederic, Duke of York, the second son
of George III., who in 1803 made over the see, now on y
a temporal province, to Hanover. Osnaburg subsequently
formed part of the kingdom of Westphalia and of the t lench
empire ; but was restored to Hanover after the fall of Napo¬
leon Pop. of the province (1855), 259,821; of the. town
M 13 718 Of the inhabitants of the province at the
above date, there were 88,814 Lutherans, 25,951 of the
Reformed Church, and 144,321 Roman Catholics.
OSORIO, Gekonymo, a learned ecclesiastic, called trom
the purity and elegance of his Latinity “the Cicero of
Portuo-al,” was sprung from a noble family, and was boin
at Lisbon in 1506. He studied languages at Salamanca,
philosophy at Paris, and theology at Bologna. Having
secured the patronage of royalty on his return to 1 oi-
tuo-al, he was raised through successive dignities to the
bishopric of Sylves. At the request of the notorious Car¬
dinal Henry, Osorio undertook his De Rebus Emmanuelis
Reals Lusitanice. virtute et auspicio gestis, libriXl . ns
work appeared at Lisbon in 1571, and Os Lusmdas of
Camoens in 1572. Thus, while the sublime daring o
Vasco de Gama was moving the elegant pen of the good
bishop, the same grand exploits were melting into noblest
music the heart of the much-suffering poet. Yet the
historian was admitted to the friendship of kings, while the
poet wandered a beggar through the streets otLisbon.
Both lived to witness the calamitous disasters of King be-
bastian’s African expedition ; but patriotism was too strong
in each to outlive it long. Osorio died in 1580, a yeai
after Camoens. After his History, the most noted book ot
Osorio is the Be Gloria, libri V., written with such sin¬
gular elevation of spirit and felicity ot diction that D Alern*
bert asserted it to be a production of Ciceros palmed oft
upon the world by the learned bishop as his own. A curious
admonition to Queen Elizabeth, exhorting her to return to
the bosom of the Church of Rome, is also to be sound
among the writings of Osorio. In addition to paraphrases
and commentaries on various books of Scripture, ie a so
wrote Be Nobilitate Civili et de Nobilitate Christiana
(1552); Be Regis Inslitutione (1572) ; BeJustitia Ccelesti
(1580); Be Sapientia, &c. (See Jbcher’s Lexicon.) His
entire works were collected and published at Rome, in
vols. 4to, with a Life of the author, in 1592, by his nephew
of the same name. The more popular writings o sono
have been translated into English, French, and Portuguese.
OSSA, a lofty mountain in Thessaly, separated by t le
vale of Tempe from Mount Olympus, from which the an¬
cients conjectured it had been divided by an earthquake.
It is conical in form, with a single summit, rising, accorc ing
to Dodwell, to a height of 5000 feet. Ossa is lower than
Olympus and Pelion, the two mountains with which its
name is associated in the fabulous wars of the giants and
the gods. Its modern name is Kissovo.
OSSIAN, or Oisin, a traditionary poet of great celebnty,
whose compositions in the Celtic language were for cen"
turies popularly recited in Ireland and the Highlands ot
Scotland. It was only at a comparatively recent period
that the literary world became aware of the existence, or at
least the fame, of this Celtic Homer, and by many he is
still regarded as a mythical personage.
O S S I A N.
Ossian. In the year 1759 John Home, the Scottish dramatic poet,
r passed part of the summer at the pleasant little watering-
place of Moffat, in the south of Scotland ; and in his walks,
or at the bowling-green there, he became acquainted with
another vbitor at the spa—James Macpherson, a young
intelligent Highlander, then in his twenty-first year. Hav-
ing completed his education at the university of Aber-
de'en, and taught a school for a short time at his native
place— Ruthven in Badenoch,—Maepherson was engaged as
tutor to Mr Graham, younger of Balgowan (afterwards
Lord Lvnedoch), who was then residing at the house of
his relative, Lord Hopetoun. Always enthusiastic about
poetry and the Highlands, Mr Home made inquiries of
Macpherson relative to the reported traditionary poems of
the old Celtic bards, of which he had heard some account
from his friend Adam Ferguson, and a specimen of which
had .appeared in the Scots Magazine for 1756. Mac¬
pherson confirmed the statements as to the existence of a
large amount of ancient Celtic poetry in the Highlands
winch had been preserved by oral transmission from one
generation to another. He produced translations of two
pieces, and Home was much struck with the wild beauty
and originality of the poetry. On his return to Edinburgh
he submitted the translations to Dr Hugh Blair and other
friends, by all of whom they were greatly admired. Copies
1 also found their way to England, and Gray the poet was,
he says, “so extasie with their infinite beauty,” that he wrote
to Scotland making a thousand inquiries. Blair sought out
the translator, and urged him to proceed in rendering ver¬
sions of all the poems in his possession. Macpherson was
reluctant to undertake the task, but at length he complied
with the request; and Dr Blair having obtained a suffi¬
cient number of pieces to form a small volume, published
them in 1760, under the title of Fragments of Ancient
Poetry collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and trans¬
lated from the Gaelic or Erse language. To this work
Blair prefixed a preface embodying the information com¬
municated to him by Macpherson, and stating that many
more remains of ancient genius, and especially one work of
considerable length, “ deserving to be styled an heroic
poem,” relating the expulsion of the Danes by Fingal,
might still be found in the Highlands. A subscription was
entered into to enable Macpherson to make a tour for the
purpose of collecting these precious remains. Lord Eli-
bank, Dr Robertson, John Home, Adam Ferguson, and
other persons of rank and taste in Edinburgh, subscribed
sums; and Horace Walpole tells us he was also a con¬
tributor.
Under the patronage of these eminent individuals, Mac-
phersun performed his literary tour in 1760, transmitting
from time to time accounts of his progress, and of the
various poems which, as he said, he had succeeded in col¬
lecting. The districts through which he travelled were
chiefly the north-western parts of Inverness-shire, the Isle
of Skye, and some of the adjoining islands ; places which,
from their remoteness, and the state of manners that then
existed in them, were thought the most likely to afford, in
a pure and genuine form, those traditionary tales and poems
in the recital of which the Highlanders were represented
as taking so much delight. On his return from the north,
Macpherson passed some time with an early acquaintance
of his owuj Mr Gallic, then a missionary in Badenoch, and
I availed himself of the assistance of this gentleman, as well
as that of Mr Macpherson of Strathmashie, in collating the
different copies of the poems which he had collected, in
translating difficult passages, and in determining the mean¬
ing of obsolete words. He then proceeded to Edinburgh,
where he communicated to his patrons the result of his ex¬
pedition; and in 1762 published Fingal, an epic poem in six
books, with some other detached pieces of a similar kind.
In an advertisement prefixed to Fingal, he states, that
“ some men of genius had advised him to print .the originals Ossian.
by subscription, rather than deposit them in a public
library;” anxl, in the preliminary dissertation he says, that
“his translation is literal, and that, as he claims no merit on
account of his version, he wishes that the imperfect sem¬
blance which he draws may not prejudice the world against
an original which contains what is beautiful in simplicity,
or grand in the sublime.” In the year 1765, he published
another epic poem, entitled Temora, to the seventh book
of which he annexed the original Gaelic; but of all the
rest he published only translations.
Macpherson had now not only enlarged his plan, but had
altered the chronology of the poems. In the preface to
the Fragments he had instructed Blair to represent them
as probably coeval with the infancy of Christianity in Scot¬
land : in one piece a Culdee or monk held a dialogue with
Ossian, and this seemed to fix the date as not earlier than
the sixth century. In his epic of 1' ingal, however, Mac¬
pherson boldly placed his Celtic bard in the end of the
second er the beginning of the third century. Several in¬
cidents in the poem pointed out this era, paiticulaily the
engagement of Fingal (the son of Ossian) with Caracul,
described by the translator as the same with the son of
Severus, the Caracalla of Roman histoi y, Fingal, who
commanded the Caledonians at that memorable junctuie,
is said to have eluded the power of Severus, and gained a
signal victory on the banks of the Carron, in which Caracul
fled from his arms “along the fields of his pride. Fleie,
then, was a startling fact—a text for controversy : could
the remote Highlands be in such a state of civilization and
refinement at the time of Severus? 1 he paiallel, as Gib-^
bon said, “ was little to the advantage of the Romans, if
we compare the unrelenting revenge of Severus with the
generous clemency of Fingal; the timid and brutal ciuelty
of Caracalla, with the bravery, the tenderness, the elegant
genius of Ossian ; or the mercenary chiefs who, from
motives of fear or interest, served under the imperial stand¬
ard, with the free-born warriors who started to arms at
the voice of the king of Morven ?” This eloquent eulo-
gium would be well merited if we could “ indulge the
pleasing supposition that Fingal fought and Ossian sung ”
in the reign of Severus. But Gibbon himself offers one
Gbjection°which destroys the hypothesis. The name of
Caracalla was a nickname given to the son of Severus in
derision. His real name was Bassianus, but he adopted the
honoured name of Antoninus. In the Caledonian war he
was known only by the appellation of Antoninus ; and it
was in the highest degree improbable that a Highland bard,
even gifted with the second sight, should desciibe him y
a nickname invented four years afterwards, scarcely used
by the Romans till the death of that emperor, and seldom
employed by the most ancient historians.- This false ftejo
in his chronology strikes at the root of the translatoi s
claim of great antiquity. David Hume took a moie
popular objection, which Johnson afterwards urged wit i
great force. Is it possible that above 20,000 verses, along
with numberless historical facts, could have been preserved
by memory and tradition during fifty generations by the
most turbulent and unsettled of all the European nations?
No one, we think, will answer unreservedly in the affirma¬
tive. But Macpherson had the aid of at least so/we ancient
manuscripts ; and we must remember that it was the duty
of the Celtic senachies or bards to recite poetry of this
description, while it was the favourite amusement of the
people during the long winter nights to listen to such reci¬
tations. National vanity, old associations; a love of song,
and the habits and circumstances of the Highland people,
all combined to perpetuate this traditional literature. It is
undoubted that the tradition of a great hero or chief called
Fion, Fion na Gael, or, as it is modernized, Fingal, existed
in Ireland and in the Highlands, and that certain ballads
OSSl
Ossian. containing the exploits of this chief and his brother war-
—riors were the favourite lore of the peasantry. Ossian
dall, or blind Ossian, was as familiar, we are informed, as
strong Samson or wise Solomon. The ancient Scottish
poets, Barbour, Dunbar, and Gavin Douglas, had alluded
to the exploits of Fingal; and in 1567 Bishop Carswell
printed Knox’s Forms of Prayer and Catechism translated
into Gaelic—the first book printed in that lang\iage—to
counteract, he says, “ the lying worldly histories concerning
warriors and champions and Fingal, the son of Combal,
with his heroes.” Abundant evidence then existed as to
the popular belief in those ancient Celtic chiefs, the ac¬
tors in Macpherson’s epic poem ; and the next point was to
ascertain the precise nature of the Ossianic poetry WJ1|C“
the Highlanders used to repeat and admire, and which
Macpherson had professed to translate. The translator
himself would render no assistance in solving the difficulty.
At first he represented his translation as literal; and in his
dissertation, published in 1762, he says, that “ the trans¬
lator, as he claims no merit from his version, wishes that
the imperfect semblance which he draws may not prejudice
the world against an original which contains what is beau¬
tiful in simplicity, or grand in the sublime. But, afterwaids,
when the success of his translation had been ascertained, he
began to hold very different language ; and, notwithstand¬
ing the strong and pointed assertions of their oiiginality
which he had advanced in his prefaces and dissertations pre¬
fixed to the earlier editions of these poems, he allowed ex¬
pressions to escape him which unequivocally indicated an in¬
tention of appropriating the authorship to himself. In one
passage he says that those who have doubted his veracity have
paid a compliment to his genius, and that even weie the alle¬
gation true, his self-denial might have atoned for his fault.
“ I can assure my antagonists,” he adds, “ that I should not
translate what / could not imitate }" and again, in a simi¬
lar vein, he says that “the translator who cannot equal
his original is incapable of expressing its beauties.” As his
confidence increased, he became still more explicit, and in
one of his prefaces we meet with the following passage .
“ Without increasing his genius, the author may have im¬
proved his language in the eleven years that the poems
have been before the public. Errors in diction may have
been committed at twenty-four which the experience of a
riper age may remove, and some exuberances of imagery
may be restrained with advantage by a degree of judg¬
ment acquired in the progress of time. In a convenieiit
indifference to literary fame, the author hears praise with¬
out being elevated, and ribaldry without being depressed.
The writer’s first intention was to have published in verse ;
and as the making of poetry may be learned by industry,
he had served his apprenticeship, though in secret, to the
Muses ” His service had been more secret than he at one
time desired, for in 1758 Macpherson had published a
poem, The Highlander, which was utterly worthless, and
instantly sunk into oblivion. The imagery and description,
however, have something of the Ossianic vein, though at
times reduced to the lowest point of tenuity, or swe ing
into outrageous fustian. Some still earlier pieces by JV ac-
pherson, published in the Scots Magazine, are feeble paia^
phrases of passages in Pope and other poets. I he con¬
troversy as to the genuineness of the Ossianic poems was
carried on with much keenness and asperity. Jolmson, in
his celebrated Journey to the Western Islands (17 /4), had
declared his conviction that the poems never existed in any
other form than that in which they were published by Mac¬
pherson ; and that there could not be recovered in the
whole Erse language 500 lines of which there was any evi¬
dence to prove them a hundred years old ! Macpherson
replied by sending Johnson a challenge ; a proceeding lu¬
dicrously absurd and in every sense impertinent, and
which Johnson properly met by that memorable short
; a n.
letter of defiance in which he said he should never “ be Ossian.
deterred from detecting what he thought a cheat by the v—
menaces of a ruffian and that “what he had heard of the
morals of his opponent inclined him to pay regard, not to
what he should say, but to what he should prove.” This
was sufficient for Macpherson \ but Dr Blair felt that his
credit was at stake. He had written a dissertation to prove
the genuineness of the translated poems, and procured tes¬
timonies from a number of clergymen and gentlemen in
the Highlands in support of his theory. Still no conclusive
ancient5 document or direct incontestable evidence was
brought forward, and the case was rendered still more des¬
perate by a dissertation from Mr Malcom Laing, who re¬
viewed the whole subject—the Roman history of Britain,
the middle ages, tradition, the customs and manners of
the times, the real origin of the poems, imitations of the
ancient and modern poets, the pretended originals, and
Macpherson’s indirect avowal of the whole imposture
pronouncing emphatically against the translator on all these
various heads. This dissertation by Laing is an ingenious
and elaborate display of criticism ; but the Gothic predilec¬
tion of the acute Orcadian had carried him too far, and sub¬
sequent researches have disproved some of his inferences
and allegations. To settle the question, the Highland
Society appointed a committee to inquire first, what poetry,
of what kind, and of what degree of excellence, existed
anciently in the Highlands, and was generally known by
the denomination of Ossianic, from the univeisal belief
that its author was Ossian, the son of Fingal; and secondly,
how far that collection of such poetry published by Mac¬
pherson was genuine,
In answer to the first of these questions, the committee
state with confidence an opinion “ that such poetry did
exist; that it was common, general, and in great abundance;
that it was of a most impressive and striking sort, in a high
degree eloquent, tender, and sublime.” I he second ques¬
tion, however, the committee found “ much moie difficult to
answer decisively.” They were possessed of no documents
to show how much of his collection Mr Maepherson had
obtained in the form in which he gave it to the 'world.
The poems and fragments ot poems they had been able to
procure contained often the substance, and sometimes al¬
most the literal expression of passages given by Mr Mac¬
pherson in the poems of which he published translations.
“ But the committee has not been able to obtain any one
poem the same in title and tenor with the poems published
by him. It is inclined to believe that he was in use to
supply chasms, and to give connection by inserting Pas~
sages which he did notfind, and to add what he conceived
to be dignity and delicacy to the original, by striking out
passages, by softening incidents, by refining the language ;
in short, by changing what he considered as too simple or
too rude for a modern ear, and elevating what in his opi¬
nion was below the standard of good poetry. To what
degree, however, he exercised these liberties, it is impossible
for the committee to determine.” In fact, Macpherson
had founded his epic poems on the ancient traditionary
fragments, as Shakspeare had founded his immortal dramas
on the rude though popular basis of old plays, novels, and
historical chronicles. Parts of Fingal are undoubtedly
genuine, and have been written down from the recitation
of parties who never read the Ossian of Macpherson. I he
Address to the Sun (which Laing attacked as an imitation
of Milton) is also a genuine fragment, and other beautiful
passages scattered throughout the poems have been traced
to the original traditionary sources. Of the MSS. used by
Macpherson one only has descended to us. This is a large
collection of Celtic poems composed at various periods,
which appears to have belonged to the Rev. James Mac-
gregor, Dean of Lismore, partly written in 1512, and partly
in 1527. The volume is now in the Advocates’ Library,
OSS
Ossian. Edinburgh, and has lately been carefully examined by a
competent Celtic scholar, the Rev. Thomas M‘Lauchlan.
Historical incidents and passages in Macpherson’s Ossian are
found in this MS—as the death of Oscar, the story of
Faineasolis (the Maid of Craca in Fingal\ and the story of
Cuchullin, and his son Conlaoeh, which was well known
both in Ireland and the Highlands. The names of Fingal,
Gaul the son of Morni, Oscar the son of Ossian, Garve
the son of Starno, the Danes, Cuchullin &c., also abound ;
but there is one peculiarity in the Lismore MS. on which
Macpherson was silent—it agrees with the Irish MSS. in
the introduction of St Patrick, and in relating dialogues on
Christianity between the Saint and Ossian, thus fixing the
era of Ossian as that of St Patrick, and indicating that his
country was not Scotland but Ireland.1 This point does
not seem to us of great importance. The unfaithfulness of
Macpherson being admitted, it is easy to account for the
Celtic poems being found equally popular in both Ireland
and the Highlands. The people were of the same race,
spoke the same language, and had constant intercommu¬
nication. The bards passed from one country to the other \
the traditional poetry and legends formed a common in¬
heritance, which would gradually undergo adaptation to the
different localities and events. Some fragments may be of
great antiquity, describing the prowess of the Fingalians
(whose names at least existed at a very early period), and it
is in favour of this supposition that the Celtic language
seems to have undergone no radical change. The Irish
antiquaries have of late diligently explored the ample field
of their early literature, and their publications throw much
light on the history of the Celtic race in these islands.
The literary merits of Macpherson’s Ossian, extrava¬
gantly overrated at first, have experienced the usual re¬
action in such cases, of being unduly depreciated and con¬
temned. If the fragments had not possessed poetical imagi¬
nation and real genius, they would never have excited the
warm admiration of Gray, whose taste and sensibility
were so exquisite. As pictures of actual society and
manners, the poems are of course spurious and deceptive ;
no one will, in this respect, attempt their defence. But
Mr Wordsworth has attacked them on the score of their
alleged false imagery and want of descriptive fidelity. “ In
nature,” he says, “ everything is distinct, yet nothing de¬
fined into absolute independent singleness. In Macpher¬
son’s work it is exactly the reverse ; everything (that is not
stolen) is in this manner defined, isolated, dislocated, yet
nothing distinct.” This may partly arise from the style of
the translator, consisting as it does of broken paragraphs,
unconnected and deficient in cadence. The genuine
fragments, however, show that such a style is substantially
true to the original. The Celtic bards had a peculiar dic¬
tion, and dealt only in brief strokes of description. They
sketched the broad outlines of the mountain landscape, the
leading objects of nature or of passion, and attempted no
delineation of the finer features, or of the atmospheric phe¬
nomena so characteristic and attractive in mountainous dis¬
tricts. With them “autumn is dark on the mountains, gray
mists rest on the hills, dark rolls the river through the
narrow plain,” and “ the musing hunter alone stalks over
the heath.” The enumeration is simple but suggestive;
and in the more ambitious passages—in the apostrophes to
the setting sun, the moon, or tempest—in pictures of soli¬
tary desolation, and in the melancholy superstition which
evokes the ghosts of the departed Finian chiefs—we have
bursts of true pathos and elevated imagination. The chief
OSS
drawback to this ancient poetry is the constant repetition Ossoli.
of the same ideas, sentiments, and imagery, which, however
natural in an early stage of literature and of society, soon
palls upon all but very young and romantic readers. No
poetry is read with greater avidity in youth, or is so soon
and so completely abandoned in after years.
It is worthy of remark that Macpherson’s Ossian, in a
French version, was the favourite reading of the great Na¬
poleon. It stimulated his imagination, and coloured his
despatches and addresses to the army. When he told his
soldiers in view of the Pyramids, that “ the shades of forty
centuries looked down upon them,” we recognise the vivi¬
fying power of genius, but genius lighted at the torch of
Ossian. The poems made the fortune of their translator.
Their first effect was enriching him to the amount of nearly
L.2000, and obtaining for him the patronage of Lord Bute.
Once brought into public notice, Macpherson’s talents and
energy soon secured preferment. He obtained a colonial
appointment and pension; became,on his return to England,
engaged in public affairs; and was an active supporter of
government. His political pamphlets and letters at the
period of the American war were highly popular, though
perishing with the topics of the day that had called them
forth. He attempted history, but without success propor¬
tioned to his labour or party zeal; and he egregiously failed
in a translation of Homer in the style of Ossian. “ Few
people,” as Scott said, “ cared to see their old Grecian
friend disguised in a tartan plaid and philabeg.” In public
life Macpherson was now conspicuous, and he obtained the
lucrative appointment of secretary to the nabob of Arcot,
with a seat in the House of Commons. Finally he retired
to his native district, purchased a considerable estate (the
old patrimony of the Mackintoshes of Borlum), and, building
a splendid mansion on his property, died there at the age
of fifty-six, his death occurring in the same year that wit¬
nessed the decease of Burns. How different the fate of the
two Scottish poets l Macpherson was a man of undoubted
genius, but of defective taste and lax principle. His Celtic
enthusiasm was the fount of his highest inspiration, and the
reign of Ossian may be said to have died with him. I he
accomplished scholars of Ireland have resuscitated much
more of the ancient minstrelsy, but it is immeasurably in¬
ferior to the Macpherson fabric; and though interesting to
a few as illustrations of a past state of manners and feeling,
it has no pretensions to be regarded as adding to the value
of our poetical literature. (R* C s0
OSSOLI, Sarah Margaret Fuller, Marchioness, the
eldest child of Timothy Fuller and Margaret Crane, was
born at Cambridge Port, Massachusetts, U. S., on the 23d
of May 1810. Her father, who was a lawryer there, took
charge himself of her education, but with an imprudence
which afterwards cost her much suffering, began too early
and exacted too much for the health ol his child. She was
of nervous and excitable temperament, and of a precocious
activity of mind, which required a different regimen from
the stimulants of school tasks. She was able to read Latin
at six years of age, picked up some knowledge of French,
and eagerly devoured all the English books within her
reach. Headaches, somnambulism, and spectral illusions
were the results of this injudicious excitement of the brain,
and, attributing her feeble health to her solitude, her father
sent her to a ladies’ school at Groton. Afterwards she
received instruction in Greek and mathematics from Dr
Park of Boston. In 1832 she studied German, and in
three months could enjoy the masterpieces of German
1 The Rev. T. M'Lauchlan, Archaeological Journal, 1857. Mr M'Lauchlan considers these passages as interpolations of the Irish bardic
school, in which so many of the Scottish bards were trained. (See also Transactions of the Ossianic Society, Dublin, 1855.) The Irish
poems represent Ossian as reciting his strains to St Patrick “ in the latter days, when, the glory of the Finians having departed for ever,
he alone of them survived, infirm, blind, and dependent upon the bounty of the first Christian missionaries (o Ireland.” The discipline
of Christianity sat most uneasily upon the old pagan bard, who sighed for the harp and feast, the battle and the chase. In the number
of the Archaeological Journal above referred to is an able paper on the Ossianic controversy' by Lord Neaves, a Scottish judge.
8
OSS
Ossoli. literature. She was at once brought under the fascination
of Goethe, whose doctrine of self-culture the highest aim
took possession of her whole soul. Her reading, though
diligent and extensive, does not seem to have been systema¬
tic, and she never subjected herself to the wholesome dis¬
cipline of science. She did not lack for her self-cultuie
whatever advantages the most intellectual society of Boston
could confer. By her remarkable powers of conversation,
and her noble and sympathetic nature, she attracted round
her, and personally attached, a very great number of young
and ardent friends of both sexes. It is not to be ques¬
tioned, at the same time, that she was enormously con¬
ceited, dogmatic, and exaggerated in thought and feeling,
and she was only spoiled by the intense adoration of her
coterie. She had a cherished purpose of visiting Europe,
and hoped to do so in the society of Miss Martineau, whom
she met in 1835 ; but the death of her father, in October of
the same year, laid new responsibilities on her, from which
she did not shrink. In the autumn of 1836 she went to
Boston to teach Gatin and French in a public school, and
also formed classes for young ladies in French, German,
and Italian. Her success and ability procured her in 1837
the situation of “ lady superior” in the Green Street School,
Providence, Rhode Island, which she occupied till 1839.
After various migrations, she settled with her mother and
family in Boston in 1841. In 1839 she had published a
translation of Eckermann’s Conversations with Goethe, and
this was followed in 1841 by a translation of the letters of
Gunderode and of Bettine. Her intended Life of Goethe
was never completed; but she found continuous literary
occupation in the Dial, a publication established by the so-
called Transcendentalists, which she edited for two years
from its commencement in 1840, and in which she pub¬
lished three noticeable papers—a criticism on Goethe;
“ The Great Lawsuit,” afterwards expanded into Woman in
the Nineteenth Century, and “A Summer on the Lakes,’ also
enlarged into a book in 1844. A characteristic undeitak-
incr of hers in Boston was her conversation classes, remnions
once a week, in which many of the most cultivated ladies
took part, and where such subjects as Greek mythology,
the fine arts, the position of women, daemonology, and the
ideal, were discussed, Miss Fuller presiding. What has
been reported of the debates of these ecdesiazusce gives no
high idea of their practical utility; they have rather a
peculiar comic aspect, and bear a striking resemblance to
the immortal conversazione at which Mr Martin Chuzzle-
wit was present. On the other hand, her writings, in
which she felt herself comparatively cramped, display much
sense and vigour, some originality, and a growing felicity
of image and expression. In 1844 she went to New York
as literary contributor to the Tribune, and while there, re¬
sided. in the house of the editor, Mr Horace Gieeley. Her
articles were collected and published in two volumes in
1846. That year she made her visit to Europe, passing
some time in England and France, and finally fixing hei
abode in Italy.. She had always been attached to that^
country and its literature, had made the acquaintance of
Mazzini in'England, and was warmly interested in the
progress of liberalism. In December 1847 she was manied
to the Marquis Giovanni Angelo Ossoli, but their union
was kept secret to save his fortune till the establishment
of the hoped-for reforms might render an avowal safe.
She had a son in September 1848. She was in Rome
during the siege in 1848-49, and superintended one of the
two hospitals, while her husband fought on the walls, and
her child was left in charge of a nurse in the village ol
Rieti. In September 1849 they retired to Florence, where
they lived in painfully narrow circumstances. She occupied
her leisure with the completion of a history of the recent
events which she had all along been preparing. She deter-
tnined to return to Atnerica with.her family, and to resume
O S T
her literary career with the publication of her work, on
which she founded high expectations. 4 hey set sail from
Leghorn, 17th May 1850, in the barque Elizabeth ; and
the voyage was prosperous till they reached the coast of
New Jersey, when, in a dreadful gale, the ship struck on
Fire Island beach, 16th July. Some of the crew and
passengers saved themselves, but the Ossohs perished.
Margaret Fuller was a woman of very extraordinary en¬
dowments, and her loss was deeply regretted as a calamity
to American literature and progress. Memoirs of her,
compiled by her friends, W. H. Clarke, R. W. Emerson,
and W. E. Channing, were published in 18o2.
OSTADE, Adrian van, an eminent painter of the
Dutch school, was born at Llibeck in 1610, and studied at
Haarlem, in the school of Frank Hals. His genius was
early developed, and soon struck out a path for itself in
the province of art. He chose for his principal subjects
the gambling pastimes, the uproarious merry-makings, the
sottish drinking-bouts, or the drunken frays of a country
ale-house. He was also fond of painting an alchymists
laboratory, the office of a country lawyer, and the interior
of a peasant’s cottage. All these scenes, so mean and
humble in themselves, were invested with the charms of
consummate artistic skill. The characters were well dis-
tinguished by different physiognomies, the accessories vyere
successfully arranged, the colouring was warm and har¬
monious, and the chiaroscuro was unrivalled. Accoidingly,
the artist enjoyed an extensive reputation and pationage,
from the beginning of his career at Haarlem till his death
at Amsterdam in 1685. His numerous works have also
continued to rise in the public estimation ever since bis
demise. Specimens abound in several of the English col¬
lections, in the galleries at Amsterdam, the Hague, Dies-
den, Munich, and Vienna, in the Hermitage at St Peters¬
burg, and the Louvre at Paris.
Ostade, Isaac van, the brother of the preceding,
was born at Liibeck in 1617. Although a pupil, and at
first an imitator of Adrian, he soon adopted a mannei of
his own. A frozen canal covered with sledges and skaters,
and the yard of a country inn bustling with huntsmen,
waggoners, and travellers, were his favourite subjects. . He
painted these with a knowledge of the principles of ait
which would probably have gained for him a reputation
equal to that of his brother, had not death piematuiely
closed his career at the age of thirty-seven.
OSTASHKOV, a town of European Russia, in the
government of Tver, on a small promontory in Lake
Seliger, 110 miles W. of the town of Tver. The houses
are for the most part built of wood ; but there is a large
bazaar, containing the shops, which are all of brick. 1 hei e
are several churches, courts of justice, a nunnery, school,
and several hospitals. Malt, leather, and tallow are made,
as well as boats for the Volga. Some trade is carried on
in corn, salt, meat, leather, tallow, timber, &c. Pop.
(1849) 8254.
OSTEND (Fr. Ostende), a fortified seaport-town fif
Belgium, province of West Flanders, stands on a low
piece of ground, nearlv surrounded with water, 12 miles
W. of Bruges, and 67 N.W. of Brussels. The town is
clean, the streets regularly laid out, and the houses, which
are neatly built, present a cheerful appearance, from being
painted of various colours. The place is, however, generally
considered, dull and uninteresting by English travellers;
and it has few public buildings of any note. 1 he town-
hall, though large and handsome, is a plain structure; and
of the several churches, hospital, barracks, arsenal, and
prison, none are in any w'ay remarkable. There are several
squares and public walks; the most agreeable of the latter,
and at the same time the most noteworthy object in
Ostend, being what is called 'the Digue, a breakwater 40
feet high, faced with stone, which extends for halt a mile
9
0 S T
Osteology between the sea and the fortifications. This is much fre-
II quented as a promenade, and commands an extensive view
Ostervald. over a flat sandy expanse, entirely destitute of trees, i he
 ' harbour, though difficult of access, on account of a sand¬
bar at the mouth, is large, and forms the termination of
a magnificent series of canals which intersect the count!y
in a sort of network. Vessels of 300 tons may sail by this
means as far as Bruges. The sluices by which the canal
communicates with the harbour are remarkably well con¬
structed. Ostend is much frequented by the Belgians as
a watering-place, and the king and queen frequently visit
it in the summer. There are numerous bathing-machines,
and a good bathing-house. The manufactures are not of
any importance, comprising linen, sail-cloth, lace, hats,
tobacco, and other articles. The cod and herring fishery
gives employment to many of the inhabitants, and oysteis,
• brought over from the English coast, are fattened here in
salt reservoirs, and sent to Paris under the name of Ostend
oysters. The trade of Ostend is very considerable, consist¬
ing in the exportation of rural produce, leather, tallow, salt,
&c., and the importation of colonial produce, Wool, wines,
manufactured goods from England, and other articles. Its.
prosperity has been much increased by the introduction of
railways, by which it is connected with the chief places in
Belgium, France, and Germany. The fortifications of the
town are very strong, as it is one of the fortresses that de¬
fend the French frontier of Belgium. They consist of
ramparts, a broad ditch, and a citadel, and the town is
entered by four gates. In the ninth century a small village
existed on this site, which 200 years after had become a
busy seaport; but this town was destroyed by the sea in 1334.
The present town was afterwards built, and gradually rose
from a small fishing village to its present importance. It
was walled in 1445, and regularly fortified by the Prince
of Orange in 1583. During the war of the Dutch against
Spain, Ostend sustained a memorable siege for more than
three years (1601-1604). So tremendous was the bom¬
bardment that the noise of the Spanish artillery is said to
have been occasionally heard at London. At last, after a
loss of 50,000 men on the part of the garrison, and 80,000
on that of the Spaniards, the town surrendered on honour¬
able terms; and the Spanish general Spinola was put in
possession of Ostend, now reduced to heaps of ruins. It
has since sustained several sieges, successful and unsuc¬
cessful ; and in 1826 was partially destroyed by the blowing
up of a magazine. Pop. 14,665.
OSTEOLOGY. See Anatomy.
OSTERODE, a town of Hanover, in the principality
of Grubenhagen, and circle of Hildesheim, stands on the
Sose, at the foot of the Hartz Mountains, 10 miles S.E. of
Eimbeck. It is surrounded by walls, and contains several
churches, a town-hall, an infirmary, and Latin school. The
castle, now used as a granary, is a large stone edifice. Os-
terode is the chief manufacturing town in Hanover, pro¬
ducing linen, woollen, and cotton stuffs; nails, wooden
articles, shot, needles, &c. There are also breweries, dis¬
tilleries, and tanneries. Pop. (1852) 5504.
OSTERVALD, Jean Frederic, a distinguished Pro¬
testant divine, was born at Neufchatel on the 25th No¬
vember 1663. He gave early marks of great intellectual
precocity, and reaped laurels in philosophy both at Zurich
and Saumur while yet a mere lad. After obtaining his
master’s degree at the latter place, he studied theology suc¬
cessively at Orleans, Paris, and Geneva. He was after¬
wards appointed pastor of the Reformed church of his
native town, a position which he continued to adorn by his
learning and zeal during a long life. In the first years ot his
ministry the political condition of Neufchatel was critical
in the extreme, and the amicable settlement of its affairs
which afterwards ensued was in a great measure owing to
the sagacity, energy, and moderation of Ostervald. A
VOL. XVII.
O S T
close friendship was soon formed between the pastor of Ostia
Neufchatel, J. A. Turretin of Geneva, and S. Werenfels II .
of Bale. These eminent men went by the name of “ the Os^raC1^
triumvirate of Swiss divines,” and did much to revive the
cause of true religion in Switzerland. In addition to the
active and laborious duties of a pastor and preacher, Os¬
tervald found leisure to extend his reputation as a man of
learning and piety in various able and popular works. He
wrote a Traite des Sources de la Corruption, Amst. et
Neuf. 1699 ; Catechisme, ou Instruction dans la Religion
Chretienne, Geneve, 1702; Traite contre VImpurete, Amst.,
1707; Arguments et Reflexions sur VEcriture Sainte, Neuf.
1720 ; Traduction de la Bible, Neuf. 1744 ; Sermons sur
Divers Textes de VEcriture Sainte, Geneve, 1722-24.
Three other works bearing his name were published from
notes of his lectures, but without the author’s consent. These -
were Ethica Christiana, London, 172/; Theologim Com-
pendium, Bale, 1739; and Traite de VExercise du Mini-
tere Sucre, Amst. 1737. His works attained to a great
popularity with the French Protestants; and he was long
spoken of among them as “ le Grand Ostervald? His writ¬
ings were likewise translated into English and German;
and “ Ostervald’s Bible” was long well known and much
prized in this country. Ostervald died on the 14th ol April
1747, in his -eighty-fourth year. (See his Life by David
Durand, London, 1778.)
OSTIA, a seaport-town of Latium, was, as its name
implies, at the mouth of the Tiber, at the distance ot 16
miles from Rome by the Via Ostiensis. It was founded
by Ancus Marcius, and originally derived its importance
from supplying salt to the neighbouring district. Be¬
coming in course of time the port ot Rome, it began, to
flourish simultaneously and proportionally with that city.
In the second Punic war, merchant vessels with grain from
Sicily and Sardinia, and ships ot war for the protection of
the coast, were wont to throng its harbour. It was also
about the same time the seat ot a quaestor, who was called
Qucestor Ostiensis, and whose task was to provide Rome with
corn. But all the while the mud brought down by the
Tiber was filling up the harbour, and rendering it incapable
of receiving large vessels. That another port should be
made for the capital of Italy was accordingly seen to be
necessary. On the shore, about 2 miles north from Ostia,
a new basin, called the Portus August!, and communicating
with the Tiber by means of an artifical canal, was dug by
the Emperor Claudius; an inner basin, called Portus I ra-
iani, was added by Trajan; and this double harbour came
to be called Portns (Porto), and gradually drew away all
the traffic from Ostia. That ancient town had thus reached
its acme of prosperity. Although handsome public edifices
were reared by successive emperors, it dwindled down by
degrees, until in the middle ages it fell completely into
ruins. These ruins have been left by the constantly ad¬
vancing shore about 3 miles from the mouth of the Dber.
About half a mile further up the river is the modem Ostia,
an insignificant village. v
OSTRACISM (oaTpouao-gos, from oarpanov, a tile or
shell), a peculiar institution employed by the Athenian
people for banishing from the state fora limited period such
persons as were deemed dangerous to the republic either
from their wealth or personal influence. (Aristotle, Polit.
iii. s.) It is said to have originated with Cleisthenes after
the expulsion of the Pisistratidae, and differed from the or¬
dinary banishment (^vyrf) in allowing the proscribed to
enjoy their estates in a fixed residence, and to return after
a term of ten years, subsequently reduced to five. (See
Exile.) Ostracism involved no dishonour, and was so far
from casting any taint upon the reputation of a citizen that
it was generally regarded as in reality a public compliment
paid to conspicuous merit. That some other mode of ac¬
knowledging worth would have been preferred by public
B
10
0 S T
Ostracism, men is likely enough ; yet in the opinion of Mr Grote, who
v. ^ — J is ingenious in his defence of the policy of ostracism, this
institution was necessary as a means of awakening in the
multitude, and especially in ambitious men, “ that rare and
difficult sentiment which we may term a constitutional
morality.” {History of Greece, vol. iv. p. 205.) It was a
general principle of the Athenian constitution that 1 no
law shall be made against any single citizen without the
same being made against all Athenian citizens, unless it
shall so seem good to 6000 citizens voting secretly ; and
under this general provision ostracism was a particular
case. Before the vote of ostracism could be taken, the
senate and the public assembly had to meet in the sixth
prytany of the year, and deliberate upon the propriety of
exercising the measure at that particular time. If their
decision was in the affirmative, a day was named when the
Athenian people assembled in the market-place according
to their ten tribes. The agora was railed round, with an
entrance left for each tribe, through which the citizens
passed, and cast each a shell or potsherd (oorpa/cov), con¬
taining the name of the individual designed to be banished,
into a cask or vessel which stood in the centre to receive
the suffrages. At the close of the day the votes were
summed up under the superintendence of the nine archons
and the senate; and if any one person was found to have
6000 votes against him, that person was banished; but. if
the hostile votes did not amount to that number the pro¬
ceeding ended in nothing. M hen one happened to be
ostracized, he required to depart from Attica in ten days
for a period of ten years; this was the sum of the penalty.
With respect to the number of votes necessary to banish
a citizen, Plutarch alleges that it was not necessary that
6000 should be given against one individual, but simply
that the sum total should not be under that number.
{Aristeid., c. 7.) This view is likewise supported by Bdckh
and Wachsmuth ; but Grote, following Philochorus, Pollux,
the scholiast on Aristophanes, Plainer, and Heumann,
maintains that the former opinion is the only one consistent
with the design of Cleisthenes in instituting ostracism for
the preservation of the nascent democracy.
In order the more thoroughly to render ostracism effect¬
ive in protecting the constitution, and the better to hinder
it from being diverted to any other purpose, whether of
private revenge or of the intrigue of faction, Cleisthenes
ordained that if the process of ostracizing were opened at
all, every citizen of Athens, without a single exception,
should be exposed to its sentence, and run the risk of its
penalty. Thus the tutelary influence of this privilegium,
as the Romans would have called it, not merely operated
when it was actually employed, but the knowledge of its
existence is supposed to have exercised a restraining effect
upon public leaders or men of ambitious temper. Care
was taken,” says Grote, <( to divest the ostracism of all
painful consequence except what was inseparable from exile;
and this is not one of the least proofs of the wisdom with
which it was devised. Most certainly it never deprived
the public of candidates for political influence ; and when
we consider the small amount of individual evil which it
inflicted,—evil, too, diminished, in the cases of Kimon and
Aristeides, by a reactionary sentiment which augmented
their subsequent popularity after their return,—two remarks
will be quite sufficient to offer in the way of justification.
First, it completely produced its intended effect; for the
democracy grew up from infancy to manhood without a
single attempt to overthrow it by force; a result upon which
no reflecting contemporary of Cleisthenes could have ven¬
tured to calculate. Next, through such tranquil working
of the democratical forms, a constitutional morality, quite
sufficiently complete, was produced among the leading
Athenians to enable the people after a certain time to dis¬
pense with that exceptional security which the ostracism
O S T
offered. To the nascent democracy it was absolutely indis- Ostrog
pensable; to the growing yet militant democracy it was salu- II
tary ; but the full-grown democracy both could and did stand
without it. The ostracism passed upon Hyperbolus about
ninety years after Cleisthenes, was the last occasion of its em¬
ployment.” {Hist, of Greece, vol. iv., p. 211.) This dema-
o-ogue was as low in character as he was humble in birth ;
and the Athenians, thinking their own dignity, and that of
the institution of ostracism, alike degraded by proscribing
such a worthless individual, resolved to put an end to
the practice. During the reign of ostracism in Athens, we
read of about ten different persons as having been banished
by that political measure. Among these are to be found some
of the most illustrious names that that illustrious city evei
knew. Witness Themistocles, Aristeides, Cimon, and Alci-
biades. The story of Aristeides, “ at all times just but
when he signed the shell,” recording his own name upon
the tablet at the request of the illiterate peasant, is told by-
Plutarch {Arist. c. 7), and is well known.
With the exception of the statement of Aristotle in his
Politics (iii. 8), respecting the abuse of ostracism for party
purposes, we have no means of judging of its administra¬
tion at Argos, Miletus, and Megara, the othei demociati-
cal states in which the system of the shell prevailed. The
Petalism (TreraXov, a leaf') of the Syracusans was boriowed
from the ostracism of the Athenians, which it closely re¬
sembled, except that the names were written on olive leaves
instead of potsherds, and the term of banishment was only
for five years. It should not be omitted, however, espe¬
cially in connection with the views of Mr Grote, that pe¬
talism seems to have proved self-destructive in Syracuse.
The fear of this “ humbling of the pride and hopes of the
exile” deterred the best men among the citizens from
taking any part in public affairs, and, as a necessary conse¬
quence, elevated the unscrupulous and incompetent to power.
Misgovernment and political degeneracy was the obvious
result; and petalism had to be repealed, b.C. 452. (See
Diodorus, xi. 87.) In reference to this significant fact
Grote offers the reflection, that “ we cannot safely infer,
that because the ostracism worked on the whole well at
Athens, it must necessarily have worked well in other
states ;” a remark quite just in itself, but nevertheless laying
bare the weakness of the system; and by no means calcu¬
lated either to recommend the policy of its adoption or to
vindicate the superior wisdom of its institution. Plutarch
affirms that ostracism arose from the inherent envy and
jealousy of a democracy {Themist. 22, and Arist. 7); and
the majority of critics, both in ancient and modern times,^
have been all but unanimous in denouncing it. And it
Grote is chargeable with carrying his vindication of ostracism
too far, he has at least the merit of placing in a full and
clear light the peculiar excellences in the system which
doubtless recommended its adoption to the enthusiastic re¬
publicans of Athens.
OSTROG, a town of European Russia, capital of a dis¬
trict of the same name, in the government ofVolhynia,
stands on the Vilia, 103 miles W. of Jitomir. It has an
old castle, several Greek and Roman Catholic churches, a
convent, and school. Several markets are held here; and
an active trade is carried on. Pop. (1850) 9353, many of
whom are Jews.
OSTROGOSHSK, a town of European Russia, govern¬
ment of Voronesh, on the left bank of the Tosna, about 60
miles S. of Yoronesh. It is a thriving town, and contains
several churches. Commerce is actively carried on ; and
several fairs are held. About 10 miles off is a colony of
German Protestants, who live chiefly by agriculture. Pop.
(1851) 5622.
OSTROWO, a town of Prussia, government of Posen,
and 67 miles S.E. of that town. It has Roman Catholic
and Protestant churches, a synagogue, and a grammar
O S T
n * . school. The manufacture of woollen cloth is busily carried
09 r on. Pop. 5839.
Oswestry. OST UNI, a town of Naples, province of Otranto, stands
on a hill, 21 miles N.W. of Brindisi. It is the see of a
bishop; and contains numerous fine churches and large con¬
vents. Pop. 6000.
OS UNA, a town of Spain, province of Seville, at the
entrance of a valley, not far from the Salado, 40 miles
E.S.E. of Seville. It is built in a semicircular form on the
slope of a hill, and has broad regular streets, well paved,
and adorned with numerous fountains, which are supplied
with water brought from the distance of one mile by an under¬
ground channel. On the top of a. hill stands a castle, which
commands an extensive view of the fertile country in the
vicinity of the town. The collegiate church is a building
in the mixed Gothic and Cinquecento styles, and contains
several fine pictures by Ribera. The church having been
occupied as a fortress by Marshal Soult, these, as well as
the sculptures over the portal, have been much defaced by
his soldiery, and a large quantity of ancient plate was carried
off. The vaults, which are supported by Moorish arches,
contain the tombs of the Giron family, by one of whom the
church was founded in 1534. The university, which for¬
merly existed at Osuna, was suppressed in 1824; but there
is still a college, which is a stately building with a large qua¬
drangle. There are, besides, numerous elementary schools,
and several hospitals. In the environs of Osuna, there
are many hermitages and public walks. A great num¬
ber of the inhabitants are engaged in agriculture; but
there are also numerous manufactories of iron, earthenware,
bricks, oil, hats, linen, &c. Many mats are also made from
Spanish broom ; and this sort of work employs a large num¬
ber of the poorer people. Wheat, barley, and beans are
exported in large quantities to Seville and Malaga. Pop.
15,508.
OSWEGO, a town of the United States of North
America, state of New York, built on both sides of the
Oswego River, where it enters Lake Ontario, 35 miles
N.N.W. of Syracuse, and 183 N.N.W. of Albany. The
river, which is here about 230 yards broad, is crossed by
a bridge. The houses and public buildings are handsome ;
and the streets are straight, broad, and regularly laid
out. Oswego has eleven churches, two of which, be¬
longing to the Presbyterians, are remarkable for size and
elegance. There are also a court-house, custom-house,
two banks, an academy, and other educational institu¬
tions. Several newspapers are published in the town.
The river, which has falls a short distance above the town,
affords water-power for the various manufactories of the
place, consisting of ten or twelve large flour-mills, and a
starch factory employing about 100 hands. The com¬
merce of Oswego is extensive, and rapidly increasing; its
position gives it great advantages for intercourse with Ca¬
nada, nearly half of the trade of the United States with
that country passing through Oswego. The imports from
Canada to this port in 1855 amounted in value to more
than L.1,250,000; and the whole value of imports and ex¬
ports in that year was about L.8,000,000. The harbour is
one of the best on the United States side of the lake,
having a pier 1200 feet in length. On the E. side of the
river stands Fort Oswego, built by the government for the
protection of the town and harbour. The shipping of the
port, enrolled and licensed, had in 1852 a total tonnage of
26,107; and during the year ten ships were built, with a
tonnage of 765. In the same year the vessels that entered
were 1784, tonnage 240,253; those that cleared were
1731, tonnage 234,625. Pop. (1850) 12,205; (1855)
estimated at 16,000.
OSWESTRY, a municipal borough and market-town
of England, Shropshire, on the borders of Wales, 20 miles
N.W. of Shrewsbury, and 171 miles N.W. by W. of Lon-
O T H 11
don. It was formerly surrounded by walls, portions of which Otago
still remain. Some of the houses are of great antiquity ; II
but the greater number are of modern erection, built chiefly 0thman-
of brick. The streets are clean and well paved. Of the
public buildings, the principal are—the church with its high
ivy-covered tower, the town-hall, theatre, and small jail.
Another church has been recently erected ; and there are
several dissenting places of worship. Oswestry has several
schools, a savings-bank, dispensary, &c. Flannel and
coarse linen cloth are manufactured in small quantities;
and in the vicinity there are coal mines, and paper and
corn mills. Races are held annually in September; and
there are several yearly fairs. A considerable retail trade
is carried on with the surrounding country. Oswestry is
supposed to derive its name (originally Oswaldstree) from
Oswald, King of Northumbria, who was killed in battle here
in 642. It was of great importance in early times, as one
of the keys of Wales. On a hill to the west of the town
are the remains of a castle, supposed to be as old as the
Norman Conquest. Pop. (1851) 4817.
OTAGO. See New Zealand.
OTAHEITE. See Tahiti.
OTHMAN IBN AFFAN, the third of the Moslem
caliphs, was a descendant of Abd-al-Menaf, one of Mo¬
hammed’s ancestors. He first appears prominently in his¬
tory as one of the secretaries, and the son-in-law of the
prophet. The next important event in his life, his appoint¬
ment to be one of the six commissioners for the election of
a successor to the Caliph Omar, was the immediate cause of
his elevation to power. The six agreed to choose one out
of their own number ; their choice fell upon him ; and he
began his reign in 643. It soon became evident that Oth-
man’s vice of favouritism, and his inattention to the wishes
of his subjects, were checking the growing prosperity of
Mohammedanism. By means of his lieutenants, indeed,
he completed the subjugation of Persia, rendered the island
of Cyprus tributary, and successfully maintained the Moslem
cause against the Greeks. But his civil administration
meanwhile was by no means successful. Efficient governors
of provinces were recalled in order to give place to his worth¬
less friends ; the contents of the public treasury were
lavished upon his minions ; he had the misfortune to lose
the prophet’s silver signet-ring, which was considered the
palladium of the empire ; and he had the indiscretion to
beat almost to death Ammar Ibn Jasir, a zealous Moslem,
who had denounced his injudicious government. The con¬
sequence was, that there was excited in the hearts of his
subjects a settled enmity which ultimately led to his ruin.
At the end of about twelve years, Medina was invested by a
strong force of rebels ; delegates with lists of grievances
from the misgoverned provinces fanned the flame of insur¬
rection ; and the deposition of the caliph was pertinaciously
demanded. The suppression of this rebellion by means of
concessions only made Othman’s inveterate enemies take
more insidious and more deadly measures. His treach¬
erous secretary, at the instance of Ayesha, the prophet s wife,
despatched to Egypt false letters of state commanding the
death of Mohammed, the son of Abubeker. Mohammed, in¬
tercepting these letters, vowed vengeance against the caliph,
and forthwith repaired to Medina at the head of a deter¬
mined band of followers. The city was entered without
opposition ; the palace was taken by storm; and Othman,
with the Koran in his bosom, fell beneath the blows of
several assassins in 656.
Othman, or Osman, the founder of the Ottoman Em¬
pire, was born in Bithynia in 1259. He is said to have been
the son of Orthogrul, the chief of a pastoral and predatory
horde of Turkomans, who had permanently pitched their
tents in the territory of the Sultan of Iconium. At any
rate, it is certain, that on the death of Masud II., the last
of the Seljukian dynasty, he was at the head of the above-
12 0 T H
Otho. mentioned tribe, and was ready to begin the project of
founding a kingdom. Part of Bitbynia, a fragment of the
dismembered empire of the sultans of Iconium, was im¬
mediately seized; a government was established; corns
. . ~ 4-w* y-v-t* on the
were struck in the city of Cara-Hissar; and on the
July 1299 he led his invading forces down through the
unguarded passes of Mount Olympus into the territory of
Nicsea. The conquest advanced slowly but successfully
for the next twenty-seven years. The hardy robber-chief,
after repeated incursions, began to gam ground upon the
Greeks ; captives and volunteers soon swelled the number
of his troops ; he was then enabled, by means of garrisons,
to secure every post as soon as it was taken ; the chfieient
districts of Bithynia came successively under his power ;
and the foundation of the Ottoman Empire was completed
by the capture of Prusa in 1326. Othman had just time
to hear the news before he died, leaving his sceptre to his
son Orchan. (See Itjrkey.)
OTHO, Marcus Salvius, a Roman emperor, was de¬
scended from an ancient Etruscan family, and was born a.d.
32. He was proclaimed emperor in 69 ; and he stabbed
himself in the same year, ninety-five days afterwards. (See
Roman History.) _ ^ „ „
Otho or Otto surnamed The Great, Emperor of Ger¬
many, was the son of Henry the Fowler, and succeeded
his father in the throne in 936. The early part of his reign
was occupied in simultaneously extending his power and
supporting the cause of the church. In the course of a
lom>- series of civil broils his unruly vassals were subdued,
and part of their wealth and influence was transferred to the
abbeys and convents. He concluded a successful invasion
of Denmark by compelling the Danes to become Christians;
and he pardoned Boleslaus, the rebel duke of Bohemia,
only on condition that all the Bohemians should receive
baptism. After he had extended the limits of the kingdom
of Germany on every side, Otho turned an ambitious eye
towards Italy. An application from Adelaide, the widow
of Lotharius, King of the Lombards, for aid against the trea¬
sonous usurper Berengarius, furnished him with an opportu¬
nity for executing his projects. He defeated Berengarius
in 951, married Adelaide, and before departing to his own
kingdom, was acknowledged by all the towns of Lombardy
as their liege lord. His regular instalment in the sove¬
reignty of the country took place in 961, when he returned
flushed with the decisive victory which he had gamed over
the Hungarians at Augsburg. In that same year he was
crowned at Milan with the iron crown of the Longobards ;
and in the following year he was crowned at Rome as em¬
peror of the West by Pope John XII. Otho now proved
that he was not unworthy to be the successor of Charle¬
magne. He vindicated his temporal jurisdiction over the
supreme pontiffs ; and, amid much resistance from the Ro¬
mans, succeeded in establishing the law, that no pope could
be chosen without the previous consent of the emperor.
He also laid the foundation of municipal government by en¬
couraging the growing spirit and enterprise of the citizens
of thl great Italian towns. The death of Otho took place
in Germany in 973. ,
Otho or Otto 1L, the son of the preceding, was born
in 955, and succeeded to the imperial throne on the eat
of his father in 973. His reign was occupied in maintain¬
ing by the sword those dominions which had been be¬
queathed to him. No sooner had he been crowned, than he
was summoned to Germany to suppress the rival claims of
his cousin Henry, Duke of Bavaria. After this rebellion
had been suppressed, he involved himself in a war with the
King of France touching the fief of Lorraine; and it was
not until his army had been routed on the banks of the
Aisne, and he had been forced to concede part of the dis¬
puted territory, that the contest was brought to a close.
Then a revolt among the Romans, and the continued occu-
O T H
pation of Calabria and Apulia by the Saracens and Greeks,
recalled him to Italy, and drove him to take the most san-
guinary measures. He entered Rome without opposition ;
overawed the malcontents; and, enticing the principal movers
of the rebellion to a banquet, put them to death in cold
blood His defeat immediately afterwards by the Greeks
and Saracens at Bassentello checked his success, but did
not divert him from his determined course of action. He
struck terror into the hearts of his disaffected subjects by
surrendering the treacherous city of Benevento to the pil-
lao-e of the soldiery. He was also preparing another ex¬
pedition against the Saracens, when he was cut off in 983, a
short time after his son Otho had been declared his succes¬
sor by an assembly of the states of Italy and Germany.
Otho or Otto IIL, the only son of the preceding, was
twelve years of age when his father died. During his mi¬
nority civil broils, both in Italy and Germany, threatened
the complete overthrow of good government. Yet, no
sooner had he formally assumed the power, than he began
to restore and maintain order with vigour and rapidity. In
996 he crossed the Alps at the head of a large army; forced
his way into Milan to be crowned with the crown of the
Lombards ; and was invested with the imperial title by his
relative Pope Gregory V. He then, in the following year,
hastened northward to stem the incursions of the olavic
hordes of the Elbe and the Oder. The intelligence that a
patrician named Crescentius was endeavouring to restore
the old Roman republic, had expelled the pope, and had
placed in the pontifical chair a Greek, with the title of John
XVL, soon recalled him to Italy. Crushing the rebellion
with relentless severity, he put the anti-pope to death by
slow and savage tortures, and hanged Crescentius from a
lofty tree. His next important action was the erection of
Poland into a kingdom, on condition that it should be ^
fief of the empire. After this he undertook a successful
campaign against the Saracens of Apulia and Calabria. He
was then, in 1002, engaged in contending against a fresh
revolt of the Romans, when the widow of Crescentius poi¬
soned him. Otho left no children, and was succeeded by
Henry, Duke of Bavaria.
Otho or Otto IV., the son of Henry the Lion, Duke ot
Bavaria, was duke of Saxony when in 1197 the Empeioi
Henry VI. died, leaving his crown to his infant son hreder-
ick. Disregarding the true heir, the Guelphs conferred
the imperial title upon Otho; while the Ghibelines con¬
ferred it upon Philip, Duke of Suabia. The former now
commenced a series of ineffectual struggles to confirm his
title. A civil war of eight years ended by placing his rival
upon the throne, and by forcing himself to flee to his
uncle, King John of England. Even after the assassination ot
the Emperor Philip had left him in possession ot the empne
in 1207 ; and after he had been formally crowned in Rome
in 1209, his claims still continued unsettled. By the in¬
trigues of Pope Innocent III., he was soon involved in a war
with Frederick, King of the Two Sicilies, and the rightfu
heir to the imperial crown. The struggle in a short time
was transferred from Italy to Germany; and in 1214 the
cause of Otho was irretrievably ruined by the French king,
Philip Augustus, at the celebrated battle of Bouvines.
The remaining years of the degraded emperor were spent
in privacy in the exercises of penitential devotion. He
J at Brunswick in 1218
Otho.
died x.. xx.xw.
Otho, or Otto, of Freysingen, a celebrated chronicler ot^
the twelfth century, was the son of Leopold, margrave of
Austria, and of Agnes, daughter of the Emperor Henry IV.
Although born in such a high sphere of society, he de¬
scended to the condition of an obscure scholar and a self-
denying ecclesiastic. He studied at the universities of
Niirnberg and Paris; entered the order of St Bernard in
the abbey of Morimond ; and in 1136 became abbot. His
half-brother, the Emperor Conrad III., removed him to the
0 T L
see of Freysingen in 1136. The rest of his life, with the
exception of an interval during which he accompanied the
imperial troops to Palestine, was passed in the assiduous
and pious discharge of the duties of his diocese. He diet
in 1158, while on a visit to his old residence, the Abbey ot
Morimond. Otho left behind him a Latin chronicle of the
world from the creation till his own time. Of the seven
books into which it is divided, the first four a,6 a ™ere se¬
lection of passages from Orosius, Eusebius, and otheis. t
was published in fol., Augsburg, 1515 He was also the
author of a treatise concerning the end of the world and a
history of the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, entitled Ve
Gestis Frederici Mnobarbi Libri Duo. This latter work
is inserted in Muratori’s lierum Italicarum Scriptores.
OTLEY, a market-town of England, West Riding of
Yorkshire, stands in a beautiful valley, on the right bank
of the Wharfe, under Chevin Hill, 25 miles W.S.W. of
York, and 205 N.N.W. of London. Though small, it is
well built, and contains a large parish church, in the form of
a cross, built in 1507, but retaining at present little of its
original architecture. Besides this there are places of wor¬
ship for several other denominations, a free grammar school,
and other educational institutions. The chief manufactures
of Otley are worsted, paper, and flour. There was for¬
merly a considerable trade in woollen fabrics here, but
that has disappeared; and cattle and corn are now the only
articles brought to the market. Pop. (1851) 4522.
OTRANTO. See Hydruntum ; and Sicilies, Tivo.
OTTAJANO, a town of the kingdom of the Two Siei-.
lies, province of Naples, stands at the N.E. base of Mount
Vesuvius, 12 miles E. of Naples. It has a castle standing
on an eminence, and three churches. Agriculture is the
chief occupation of the inhabitants. Pop. 14,000.
OTTAWA, the recently-constituted capital of Canada,
is situated on the right bank of the Ottawa River, 87
miles above its confluence with the St Lawrence, 95 miles
N.E. of Kingston, and 126 W. of Montreal. It is divided into
two parts by the Rideau Canal, which connects the Ottawa
with Lake Ontario. These parts are called the Upper and
Lower Town respectively. The canal joins the river by a se¬
ries of good stone locks, and is crossed by a handsome bridge ;
but this mode of communication has now become quite in¬
sufficient for the increasing traffic. The streets are straight,
broad, and regular, and the buildings handsome and uni¬
form. There are six churches, belonging respectively to
the Church of Rome, the Church of England, the Esta¬
blished and the Free Church of Scotland, the Wesleyans,
and the Episcopal Methodists. There are also several
educational, literary, and benevolent institutions. The
principal source of the town’s importance is the trade in
timber, larger quantities of which are exported to Europe
and the United States, through Ottawa, from the surround¬
ing country, than from any other part of Canada. The
vicinity of the town is remarkable for its grand and beautiful
scenery ; the falls of Chaudiere on the Ottawa being second
only, among American cataracts, to those of Niagara. This
place was formerly called Bytown, but the name was
changed in 1854. Pop. about 10,000.
The River Ottawa takes its origin in the interior of Lower
Canada, in a series of lakes, which may be considered as
mere expansions of the river. About 100 miles from its
source it leaves Lake Temiscaming, the last of these ; and
separating Upper from Lower Canada, flows S.E. and E.
until it falls into the St Lawrence at the island of Mont¬
real. Its whole length is about 400 miles; and it is navi¬
gable as far as the town of Ottawa. It receives the Rideau
from the right, and the Gratineau and Lievre from the left.
The scenery on its banks is of the finest description; but
the land is not fertile.
OTTLEY, William Young, a critic and collector of
paintings and engravings, was born in 1772. The un-
0 T W
wearied enthusiasm for the fine arts by which he was dis¬
tinguished through life soon began to appear. About his
twentieth year he proceeded to Italy, and devoted both his
time and means to the study of the great painters. Famous
pictures were copied, fine engravings were collected, and
numerous works of the early masters were purchased. Nor
did his industry flag when he had returned to England, at
the end of ten years, to turn his collections to some account.
Among other splendid and costly works, he published The
Italian School of Design, in 3 parts, 1808-12-23 ; and A
Series of Plates engraved after the Paintings of the most
Eminent Masters of the Early Florentine School, fol.,
1826. As keeper of the prints in the British Museum he
also laboured hard to arrange and classify the engravings
in that institution. His death took place in 1836.
OTWAY, Thomas, one of the foremost names in the
English drama, was the only child of the Rev. Humphrey
Otway, rector of Wolbeding in Sussex, and was born at
Trottin, in the same county, on the 3d of March 1651.
Passing from Winchester school, where he received his
early education, he entered Christ Church, Oxford, as a
commoner, in 1669. Little is known respecting his uni¬
versity career. He was not remarkable, however, for dili¬
gence in study, and seems to have cultivated society moie
than letters. He was intended for the church ; but the
death of his father, who left him no other inheritance, he
tells us, but that of “ faith and loyalty,” compelled him
to leave college without taking his degree. In these cir¬
cumstances, he set out for London to push his fortune,
without any more definite aim before him. For a needy
youth of twenty, fond of pleasure and full of poetry, the
metropolis was at that time anything but a paradise. In¬
clination drew him to the theatre, and necessity induced
him to turn actor. He appeared on the stage for the first
and last time in 1672, in the character of the “ King” in
Mrs Behn’s drama of the Forced Marriage, at Sir Wflliam
Davenant’s theatre in Dorset Garden, Salisbury Court.
“ But he being not used to the stage,” says Downes, ‘ the
full house put him to such a sweat and tremendous agony,
being dash’t, spoilt him for an actor.” (Roscius Anghcanus,
p. 43, 1789.) This was not encouraging for young Otway ;
but had not Shakspeare and Ben Jonson failed before him
in the player’s art ? and why should not he succeed, like
them, in writing dramas, if he could not act them ? It took
Otway three years to give a practical solution to this pro¬
blem. Meanwhile he ran after rank and courted fashion,
his gay wit and jovial disposition gaining him ready access
to the society of the great. The witty and profligate
Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, the chosen patron of nearly all
the vices, was likewise the patron of “ I om Otway ; and the
ardent adventurer followed his chief into the wildest
excesses. Sated for a time with the dissipation into which
he was led, and perhaps tired of hanging by the skirts of
dissolute men of fashion, he directed his attention to dra¬
matic composition. His tragedy of Alcibiades, the first
and the poorest of his productions, appeared in 1675,
when Otway was in his twenty-fourth year, and met with
some success. It was not borrowed from the French, as
Johnson surmises (Lives of the British Poets) ; but it was
written in rhyme, according to the absurd custom then
much in vogue ; and neither in sentiment nor in language
did it give any promise of future eminence. His Don
Carlos of the next year was a decided advance on his first
attempt; but the extraordinary popularity to which it at¬
tained was owing more to adventitious circumstances than
to the inherent excellence of the performance. Rochester
was fond of playing the tyrant in literature ; and having
quarrelled with Dryden, who was too strong a man to sub¬
mit to such despotism, his lordship, after various despicable
attempts to ruin the fame of his rival, selected Otway as
the most respectable antagonist he could find to pit against
14 0 T W
Otway, the sturdy laureate. Heralded by so great a name, Don
's—Carlos became “ the first heroic play of the age and, as
the honest prompter tells us, “ being admirably acted, it
lasted successively ten days : it got more money than any
preceding modern tragedy.” {Roscius Anglic., p. 46.)
Dryden, as might be expected, had not the greatest
reverence for the Prince of Spain ; yet it says much for
his candour, that, despite his animosity towards his young
antagonist, he confessed that Otway had a power of “ mov¬
ing the passions ” which he himself did not possess. Otway,
meanwhile, in the flush of his sudden triumph, turned a
satirical shaft against the laureate, and allied himself with
Shadwell, the well-known “ MacFlecknoe ” of Dryden’s
famous satire. Otway’s next contribution to the stage
consisted of a tragedy and a farce, both translated from the
French,— Titus and Berenice from Racine, and The Cheats
of Scapin from Moliere. These pieces were performed
together at Sir William Davenant’s theatre in 1677, and
had good success. During the same year Otway made bold
to pay court to the comic muse in his Friendship in Fa¬
shion. Apart from other defects, it was a very immoral
play ; considered “ very diverting ” by the play-goers of the
time; but hissed off the stage in 1749 for its indecency.
(See Langbaine’s English Dram. Poets.) It was obvious
enough that the author was not qualified to shine in the
comic drama.
In 1677 Otway exchanged the pen for the sword, having
received a cornet’s commission, through the Earl of Ply¬
mouth, the king’s natural son, in a new regiment of horse
destined for Flanders. Here again fortune played him false.
The troops to which he belonged were soon after disbanded :
the money designed for their pay was diverted to other pur¬
poses ; and the unfortunate soldier had to be content with
debentures at a very low credit. Otway returned, therefore,
to his muse again, in a state of deplorable indigence and
distress. Rochester was no longer his friend. That bril¬
liant libertine made the unfortunate poet the butt of his
malicious wit in a lampoon called A Session of the Poets.
Otway had committed the mortal offence of presuming to
rival his lordship in an attachment to Mrs Barry, a famous
actress of the day, who never failed to draw tears from her
audience in her representations of Otway’s “ Monimia” and
“ Belvidera.” The poor poet’s affection for this woman was
tender, passionate, and enduring; and although unrequited,
his letters to her display a pathos and eloquence not inferior
to the finest passages in his tragedies. In 1680 he produced
his tragedy of Caius Marius, in great part avowedly trans¬
ferred from Shakspeare’s Romeo and Juliet. The author
had now ranged himself on the side of Dryden and the
Tories ; and he contrived in this play, as well as in The
Poet's Complaint to his Muse, published the same year,
to expose the violences of the opposite party. 1 he promise
which Otway had early given of rare pathetic power was
fully confirmed in his Orphan, founded on a popular novel
of the day, and represented in 1680. It is a domestic tra¬
gedy, drawn from middle life, not possessing great elegance
or splendour of diction, but with a power of moving the heart
unknown to any tragedy of that time. u This is one of the
few plays,” says Johnson, “ that keep possession of the
stage.” Passing over his comedy of The Soldier's Fortune,
acted in 1681, and its second part, called The Atheist,
printed in 1684, both as poor as they were popular, we come
to Otway’s greatest performance. He was constrained to
keep toiling for his daily bread ; and this necessity tended
to expand his genius and mature his powers. In Venice
Preserved he had larger scope for variety and contrast of
character, and a more elevated sphere for the display of his
peculiar genius, than he had found in his Orphan. In
strength of imagery and force of expression he had made a
0 U D
decided advance, but his former faults were still observable. Oude.
As before, this play is deficient in fire and high imaginative
power ; it is sometimes false in sentiment, and often poor
in poetry ; but it possesses a power of melting quite un¬
surpassed in the English drama. “ Nature is there,” said
Dryden, “ which is the greatest beauty and Johnson has
re-echoed the judgment. Addison says of him {Spectator,
vol. i., No. 39) that he “shinesin the passionate parts more
than any of our English poetsand Goldsmith, a little
forgetful, perhaps, of the merits of some of our earlier drama¬
tists, says that Otway was, “next to Shakspeare, the
greatest genius England ever produced in tragedy” {The
Bee, No. 7). “ Gentlest Otway,” as Collins sings of him,
is certainly, with all his faults, the most pathetic of our dra¬
matists. Time was gradually maturing his genius ; and he
was just emerging from the bewildering fevers of youth
into clear poetic activity, when his unhappy career was
brought to a close. Having retired from the importunate
demands of his creditors to an obscure ale-house on Tower
Hill, he was seized with a fever, occasioned by the violent
pursuit of an assassin who had murdered one of his friends
in the streets of London. This cut him off on the 14th of
April 1685, at the premature age of thirty-four. The cur¬
rent story of Otway’s having been choked by a crust of bread,
which he eagerly swallowed when suffering from hunger, does
not seem to be well founded (For further details respecting
Otway’s life, see the biography, prefixed to the best edition
of his works, by Thomas Thornton, 3 vols., London, 1813.)
Otway’s minor poems do not possess very great merit.
At the time of his death Otway had completed four acts
of a new tragedy, said to have been purchased by Bent¬
ley, his publisher. An advertisement for the recovery
of the missing MS. appeared in L’Estrange’s Observator
for 27th November and 4th December 1686, but to no
purpose. (j* d—s.)
OUDE, or more properly Oudh, a compact and im-Extent
portant province of Hindustan, lies between N. Lat. 25. and bound-
34. and 29. 6., and E. Long. 79. 45. and 83. 11., and is now aries-
about 270 miles in length from N.W. to S.E., and 160 in
breadth. The area is computed at 23,738 square miles, by
Thornton; but Butter makes it 23,923, and by some it is
raised to 25,000. Exact statistics, however, of the province
in this or other particulars are not yet procurable. It is
bounded on the N. and N.E. by Nepaul, on the N.W. by
Rohilkhand (Rohilcund), on all other quarters by provinces
which have at various times been wrested from it by the
English,—viz., on the E. by Gorakhpur (Goruckpore), on
the S.E. by ’Azimgarh (Azimgurh) and Jaunpur, on the S.
by Allahabad, and on the S.W. by Fathpur (Futtehpoor),
Kanhpur (Cawnpoor), and Farrukhabad (Furrukhabad),
districts of the Doab.
The general aspect of the country is that of a fertile General
plain, being, in fact, a continuation of that immense level aspect of
valley which extends in a curved line from the sources oUhe coun'
the Western Banas River, in E. Long. 73. 28., to the junc- r7'
tion of the Ganges and the Brahmapootra, in E. Long. 90.,
a distance of ilOO miles. Along the eastern frontier,
from a few miles north1 of Bahraich, begins the great Tarai
Forest—marshy, and in some places almost impassable, but
nevertheless studded with the strongholds of the great
baronial landholders, as the Raja of Tulsipur. The plain
of Oudh slopes gently at the rate of about 7 inches in the
mile to the E.S.E. The only irregularities on its surface
are caused by the greater or less resistance of its soil to
the rivers which traverse the province, and of which the
five principal are the Ganges, Sai, Ghumti, Deoha, and Rapti.
The courses of these streams are almost parallel, and the
order in which they are here named is the order of their
succession from W. to E. The Ganges then forms the
1 Sleeman’s Journey, vol. i., p. 36.
0 U D E. 15
western boundary ot Oudh ; the Sai, which comes next,
unites with a western branch called the Lon, a little above
Rae Bareli, and falls itself into the Ghumti in about N. Lat.
25. 30. The Ghumti is the river which washes Lucknow
(Lakhnau), and passes through the centre of the province of
Oudh. Faizabad, the ancient capital of Oudh, is situated on
the Deoha, which has two other names, the Sarju and the
Ghagra; and to the E. of this, and on the extreme E. ot
the province, is the Rapti, also called the Airayati. Ihese
rivers are the principal cause of the great fertility of Oudh ;
but it is remarkable that they are decreasing in vo¬
lume in a way which may well lead to grave apprehen¬
sions. Everywhere the wave-worn marks on the banks,
much above the highest level to which the waters now
attain, attest the decrease which is going on. It is a his¬
torical fact, that in 1773 Sir Robert Barker’s brigade saded
over the famous stone bridge at Jaunpur; and within the
last fifty years the Ghumti has fallen 5 or 6 feet. Were the
great tracts of jungle, which with provident care have been
fostered by the Oudh government, to disappear, it cannot
be doubted that the rivers would be still farther diminished
by the cutting off of all the small streamlets, which are at
present nourished by the moisture collected on the leaves
of the forests, and which serve as feeders to the principal
streams. The vast quantity, also, of sand and dust which
during the hot season is brought by the westerly winds,
would, but for the jungles, gradually overlay the country,
and turn what are now expanses of verdure into dry deserts.
Even now the old inhabitants of the country assert that
the deposit brought by the luk or hot wdnd is greater, and
the heat of the wind itself fiercer, than in former times ; and
this may well be the case, from the extensive clearance of
jungle which has everywhere taken place in the adjacent
British districts. European observers record the fact, that
it is now requisite to dig wells deeper than in times within
the memory of man ; and that the annual fall of rain, though
extremely irregular, is upon the whole gradually diminishing.
The soil of Oudh is the finest in India ‘,l and from the
numerous rivers which flow through the country, the water
is everywhere near the surface. Sleeman conjectures2 that
the whole province once formed part of the bed of a lake
which contained a vast fund of soluble salts (nitrates of am¬
monia), which, combining with magnesia, lime, soda, potash,
alumina, and oxide of iron, form double salts, become so¬
luble in water, and are fit food for plants, to the growth and
perfection of which they are all more or less conducive.
According to the distribution of these salts, the soil may be
divided for agricultural purposes into matiyar, domatiya,
bhur, and usar. Of these, matiydr3 is a rich clay soil,
mixed with a small proportion of sand, or one-tenth of silex ;
the rest alluvial mould. It differs from the domatiya in con¬
taining a greater proportion of those elements which con¬
stitute what are called good clay soils. It is more capable
of absorbing and retaining moisture, and of fixing ammonia,
than the domatiya, of a darker colour, and forms more
into clods. The domatiya is of a light-brown colour, soon
powders into fine dust, and requires much more outlay in
manure and labour. It has a considerable admixture of
sand, and in some places about yg-th of lime. The bhur
consists of ^ths of sand and the rest clay ; and being not
retentive of moisture, is far less productive than the two
classes of soil above mentioned. Lastly, the usar lands,
having a superabundance of salts, are more or less unfit
for cultivation ; but in general, if flooded with rain-water
for two or three seasons by means of artificial embank¬
ments, and then well watered, manured, and ploughed, will
bear tolerable crops. From the worst usar soils common
salt or saltpetre, or both, are made by washing the earth,
and removing the water by evaporation. The most im- Oude.
portant feature in the soil of Oudh is the abundance of
kankar, nodules formed of the elements of chalk and oolite,
which opposes such resistance to the rivers as to keep them
in permanent banks, thereby insuring a perfect drainage of
the country; and when an exit is once established from a
hollow, the channel gradually deepens until the hollow is
perfectly drained. In patches of ground where kankar
largely predominates, are found the only irregularities of
surface noticeable in Oudh. Ridges are thus formed 70
or 80 feet above the surrounding country, the less coherent
materials of whose soil has, in the course of ages, been
swept away by the agency of wind and water. Hence,
too, the channels of the rivers have gradually deepened, so
that the surface of the water is never less than 20 feet be¬
low the level of the bank, and in many places as much as
80. The Ghumti is intersected at every 4 or 6 miles by
kankar ridges of 2 or 3 yards in width, which, in the dry
season, sometimes diminish the depth of water to 2 feet.
The right bank of this stream from Pali to Sultanpur, a
direct distance of 40 miles, but nearly double as much if
the windings of the river are followed, consists of solid
kankar, and resembles in miniature the mountain ranges
on the right bank of the Jumna and Ganges. The left
bank is low and sandy, and these remarks apply also to the
Deoha: but in both cases the stream sets against the high
bank, and has therefore no tendency to spread.
The principal rivers have been already named in describ- Rivers and
ing the configuration of the country, and the effect of the niarshes.
tenacious kankar upon their streams has been noticed.
The next remarkable point regarding them is the singular
multiplicity of their windings, from which feature, indeed,
the Ghumti derives its name. The water of this latter
stream becomes unfit for drinking during the rainy season,
owing to the immense quantity of yellow clay with which
it is loaded. When epidemics prevail at Lucknow, or
generally along its banks, a putrid scum forms on the sur¬
face of this river, owing to the multitudes of dead bodies
which are thrown into it. Yet it abounds in fish ; and thus
supplies one-fifth of the population with a considerable
portion of their diet,4 especially during the rains. The
Ghumti has a total course of 482 miles, rising in the dis¬
trict of Shahjehanpore, in N. Lat. 28. 35., and falling into
the Ganges in N. Lat. 25. 29. It enters the territory of
Oudh about 96 miles from its source, and after a course of
250 miles, crosses the frontier into the British district
of Jaunpur. During the rainy season boats of 4 or 5
tons weight can go up to Lucknow, but all supply-boats
return from that city empty. The Ganges and Derha are
usually open at all seasons for the largest class of boats.
Their annual rise is about 30 feet, their courses are compara¬
tively straight, and their currents proportionally rapid during
the freshes. The Ganges has alow bed, 4 miles in average
width, within the limits of which it changes its course
annually. The Deoha or Ghagra has its latter name from
a Sanscrit root which signifies “ to gurgle,” and is a consider¬
able river, equal, indeed, in volume and rapidity to that part
of the Ganges which runs parallel to it. Its total course is
606 miles from its source in Kumaon, in N. Lat. 30. 28.,
to N. Lat. 25. 46., where it falls into the Ganges. At 181
miles from the point where it rises it first touches the
Oudh territory, which it continues to bound for a distance
of 316 miles. The Sai is, in the rains, navigable for boats
of a ton or a ton and a half as far as Rae Bareli, above
which point there is no trade carried on. This river winds
exceedingly, and the route by the Ganges or Ghumti is
therefore preferable. At Rae Bareli the Sai is as broad as
the Ghumti, but only half the depth. It abounds in fish,
1 Sleeman’s Journey, vol. i., p. 64.
3 Wilson’s Glossary, p. 335; Sleeman’s Journey, vol. i., p. 226.
2 Ibid., vol. i., pp. 224, 225.
4 Butter’s Topography of the Southern Districts of Oudh, p. 12.
16
Oude.
Climate.
0 u
of which all classes partake, even the Brahmins, except
those that are pundits. The Tons, I eons, Marha, or
Bisohi, is a branch of the Deoha, which it leaves 5 miles
above Faizabad; and after uniting with the Little larju,
runs into the Ganges 10 miles below Buxar. A cross
branch, the Khajuha Tal, 15 miles below Faizabad, again
unites the Tons with the Deoha; and during the dry season
is embanked at different points for irrigatory purposes.
This has a most prejudicial effect on the climate, however
beneficial it may be in another point of view. The Ions
is not navigated above ’Azimgarh. I he Son rises neai
Shahabad, and running midway between the Ganges and
the Sai, falls into the latter about 3 miles above Rae Bareli.
During the rains it is a considerable torrent, but at no time
navigable.
There are no large permanent lakes in Oudh, but in the
rains largeor collections of water, shallow but exten¬
sive, are formed, and, in the hot weather, dry up or are
drained off by the water-courses. The largest of these is^
situated 8 miles N.W. of Manikpur, in the deserted bed of
the Ganges, and is 16 miles long and 8 broad. Ihe
town of Betaganw, at its N.W. extremity, is the most un¬
healthy spot in Oudh, owing to this vast marsh, and the
neighbourhood is infested with mosquitoes to an intolerable
degree. It always contains water, and much rice is planted
along it towards the end of March.
The climate of Oudh, more especially of the southern
portion, is chiefly characterized by its dryness. Being be¬
yond the equalizing influences of the sea-breeze, it is marked
by extremes of heat and cold>, the temperature at one time
rising to 112°, and at another sinking to 28°. The mean
daily range is 30°, and the mean temperature 74 . 1 he
annual fall of rain is very irregular, varying from 70 to 30
inches, and extending over a period of from four to two
months. The gradual diminution in the quantity of rain
is remarked by all the inhabitants of Oudh, and in places
where grass formerly grew tall enough for thatch, it now
scarce supplies pasturage for animals. Hoar-frost used to
happen once in every ten or fifteen years; but within the
last half century the recurrence of it has become much
more frequent, and is now almost annual. West winds
blow about 200 days in the year, and east winds during the
remainder. The former winds are dry, and cold, oi in¬
tensely hot, according to the season of the year, and loaded
with fine sand. The easterly winds are damp, and bring
with them the malaria of Bengal and Assam. During the
hot weather the air is so loaded with particles of dust or
sand as to curtail the view, and give a grayish aspect to the
sky. But towards the end of the rains the atmosphere be¬
comes highly transparent, and the Himalaya Mountains are
seen at a distance of 200 miles. The sky is then of the
brightest blue, and the phenomenon of converging rays in
the quarter opposite to the rising or setting sun is not un-
frequently seen in great perfection. T he cold season ex¬
tends over November, December, January, and Febiuary,
and few climates then equal that of Oudh. Throughout
these four months the nights are cold; and in January the
cold is sometimes so great that thin ice is formed on shallow
pools of water. By filling shallow vessels with water,
and protecting them from the heat of the earth, and the
warmer strata of air, ice is easily obtained during this and
the following month. Fires are required during part of
December, and in January and February, and during this
period the fruits and vegetables of Europe are produced in
great perfection. The hot weather begins with March, but
the mornings are pleasantly cool till the middle of May.
The hot winds usually commence in April, but in general
abate towards sunset, so as to admit of riding or driving
without discomfort. Sometimes sudden storms occur at
D E.
this season from the north-west, which are attended with Oude.
phenomena terrifically grand. An immense gloomy arch
of clouds is formed, which assumes the appearance of a
o-io-antic wave about to break over the earth. The sun
gives to the summit of this wave a reddish-brown colour,
and a rolling motion is observed in it like the smoke of
artillery. When the storm is about a mile distant, a dead
stillness prevails. As it approaches, eddies of wind toss
leaves and branches on high, and the temperature falls
twenty or thirty degrees. A continued roll of thunder has
been heard from the commencement of the storm. This is
now suddenly mixed with the rushing sound of the tempest,
and so thick is the dust that all nature is shrouded in pitchy
darkness. The fury of the wind is so great that trees are
torn up, buildings demolished, and in spring-harvest the
produce of whole fields is swept away. Occasionally hail
falls in globules an inch in diameter, destroying tiled roofs,
and stripping the trees of their leaves and branches. Some¬
times neither rain nor hail falls, but in all cases the air is
cooled and purified. The lightning is terrific, and but too
often fatal to life. At the height of the hot season, and
during the hot winds, which are called by the natives luk,
travellers fall dead from the heat.
The rainy season commences generally about the 15th
of June, and lasts till the middle of October. The first fall
is very violent, often from 8 to 10 inches in forty-eight
hours, and is accompanied by strong winds which bring
down the frail tenements of the natives in every direction.
As the rains become sparse and uncertain in September,
there is considerable insalubrity owing to the rapid exsic¬
cation of the water-courses and marshes. October is hot
and unhealthy, and the sun is not to be encountered with
impunity till the beginning of November, when, as has been
said, the temperature cools, and the climate becomes one
of the most delightful known to man.
In the great forests of the Tarai, elephants, tigers, and Zoology,
rhinoceroses are very numerous, and very destructive to
human life. The tiger is also found in different jungles
throughout Oudh ; and the kings of Oudh have in general
taken great interest in hunting that animal. Wolves
are beyond measure numerous and daring, and destroy
scores of children every year. A full-grown wolf stands
ten hands in height, and will singly attack and kill a
strong man. The natives have a superstition against
spilling the blood of these animals, and say that the
family of the wolf-slayer is certain to become childless ;
“ a village community within the boundary of whose lands
a drop of wolf’s blood has fallen believes itself doomed
to destruction.” The lowest class of natives, who corre¬
spond to the gipsies of the W est, seldom catch wolves, though
they know their dens, and could easily dig them out, as they
do other animals. It is supposed that they abstain from
destroying wolves on account of the profit they make from
the gold and silver bracelets, and other ornaments, worn by
children who are devoured by these animals. T he orna¬
ments are frequently found at the entrance of the dens, and
the people referred to are in the habit of searching for them.
Sir W. Sleeman1 records some surprising but well-authen¬
ticated stories of infants carried off and nurtured by the
wolves. In particular, he mentions the case of a boy who
was captured in the den of a wolf near Chandur, and whose
habits were entirely those of a wild beast. He lived three
years after his capture, and was in the charge of Captain
Nicholetts, the European officer commanding the 1st regi¬
ment of Oudh local infantry at Latampur. He died in
August 1850; was never known to laugh or smile ; and only
spoke once, when he asked for water a few minutes before
his death.
Other wild animals are—the hyaena, jackal, wild hog,
i Vol. i., pp. 208, 211, 214, 215 ; ii., p. 60.
O U D E.
17
Oude.
Natural
produce.
Territorial
divisions.
nilgae, antelope, wild cat, porcupine, fox, otter, m
goose, squirrel, rat, musk-rat, mouse, and flyin^, .
'wild buffalo is found in the high j’hau jungle which clo hes the
hanks of the Ganges in Bainswara, and in a few of the la ge
forests in the interior. The birds are—the adjutant, ciane,
partridge, quail, vulture, hawk, kite, crow, raven, jay, parrot
(excessively numerous and destructive to crops) paddy-bird
Lina, swallow, sparrow, dove, cuckoo lark, kingfisher
(many splendid species), wild goose, wild duck, woodpecker
and a species of Cinnyris, similar to the humming-bird of
America. There is a great variety of fish. Porpoises
are seen in the Ghumti only during the rams. Two species
of crocodiles are found in the Ganges and Deoba at all
seasons, but venture into the smaller rivers only in the rains.
Snakes and lizards abound; the most venomous are the
cobra and karait. Scorpions, centipedes, locusts, the sand-
flv eve-fly, and white ants, are among the most troublesome
of the crustaceous and insect classes. The cochineal insect
is sometimes seen on the prickly pear bush.
Domestic animals are numerous. Large flocks ot sheep
and goats are bred for the supply of the surrounding pro¬
vinces. The price of a sheep is from 9d. to Is. A milch
goat sells for 2s., and one out of milk at from lOd. to Is.
Bullocks are exported at from L.l to L.2 the pair, which
is the common price in Oudh. A she-buffalo or two, or a
cow or two, are kept by almost every person of substance,
whether villager or townsman.
The chief crops are,—the Sinapis dichotoma, ( icer unc-
tinum, wheat, barley, beans, linseed, safflower, Paspalum
frumentaceum, Cynosurus corocanus, millet, cotton, maize,
ffolcus sorgum., Holcus spicatus, Phaseolus maximus,
Cytisus cajan, sesamum, and rice ; which are reaped in the
order in which they are now mentioned, beginning with the
end of February. Sugar-cane is grown in small patches here
and there, particularly between the Sai and Ganges, but there
is but little sugar made. The same is the case with indigo ;
and though many districts, particularly about Faizabad,
are most favourable to the poppy, the production ot opium
is comparatively small. Dr Butter, however, expi esses an^
opinion, that the time is not far distant when the growth ot
opium will constitute one of the principal sources of the
revenues of Oudh. The cotton produced in Oudh is nearly
the same in quality as that of Bandalkhand, but is not so
long in the staple, nor so soft. The rice of Oudh is de¬
scribed in the Institutes of Akbar as incomparable for white¬
ness, delicacy, perfume, and digestiveness.
Oudh has long been renowned for its groves of fruit
trees, in the vicinity of which is excellent pasturage. The
principal trees are—the mango, tamarind, banyan, pipal or
Ficus religiosa, and the mahud or Bassia latifolia, the
flowers of which are sweet, and yield by distillation a
spirituous liquor. The nuts also of this tree are valuable,
as producing an oil wdiich is used instead of butter. In the
district of Bainswara, and near Faizabad, forming a marked
exception to the rest of Oudh with respect to the decay of
arboriculture, extensive plantations have been lately made,
chiefly of the mahud, but in less proportion of the mango,
the Ficus glomerata, the Eugenia jambolana, the Melia
Azadirachta, the jack-tree, the Artocarpus lacucha, and
Phyllanthus emhlica. The mahud, the Eugenia jambo¬
lana, mango, and Melia Azadirachta are the only trees fit
for building. The Cedrela Poona, which furnishes a yellow
dye, the Ficus venosa, and the bamboo, are also common
in many parts of Oudh. The bamboo, however, will not
grow in high hankar soils.
The territory of Oudh, wdiich in 1775 was among the
largest and wealthiest provinces in India, extending from
Mirzapur, in 25. N. Lat., on the S., to Haridwar, in 30. N.
Lat., on the N., and from Kanhpur (Cawnpore) on the W. to
Oude.
Nepal on the E., now comprises but twelve chaklds or
counties, and is shrunk to one-third of its former size. I he
chaklds are, beginning from the S.W. and S., and pro¬
ceeding to the N.E. and N.,—1. Ahladganj; 2. Pratap-
garh; 3. Sultanpur; 4. Aldemau; 5. Salon; 6. Bains¬
wara; 7. Pachhamrat; 8. Lakhnau; 9. Rasulabad; 10.
Khairabad; 11. Gonda-Bahraich; 12; Sandi. The chak¬
lds are again subdivided into parganahs or distiicts, some¬
times compared to our baronies.
The principal cities in the twelve chaklds are the follow- Chief
}ng;—Manikpur, in Ahladganj, is a decayed city, once thetown8
capital of a principality, which extended over a large por¬
tion of Southern Oudh. It is situated on the left bank of
the Ganges, along which it extends for upwards of a mile.
The population is now about 10,000, of whom one-half are
Muslims. The fort on the bank of the river, now in ruins,
but once strong, extensive, and built of brick hardened by
fire, resembles that of Allahabad. Pratapgarh, or Belhaghat,
2 miles W. of the Sai River, is the chief city in the chakla
of Pratapgarh. The population is about the same as that
of Manikpur. It is surrounded with a decayed wall of s^n‘
dried bricks, and on its western side is a ruinous citadel of
the same material. Until 1834 there was a cantonment
for a Company’s regiment, with two guns, 3 miles to the
N.E. of the town, in an extremely healthy spot. Sultanpur,
the capital of the chakld so called, in N. Lat. 26. 16., E.
Lono-. 82. 8., is a ruined city, about a mile from the eastern
bank of the Ghumti River, 92 miles S.E. of Lakhnau. 1 he
inhabitants do not number 2000, and are nearly all Muslims.
The town is built on the site of the capital of an aboriginal
people called Bhars, now extinct, but whose possessions
once extended to Allahabad, Banaras, Faizabad, and almost
to Lakhnau. Their capital, called Kasbhawanpur, was 8
miles in circumference; and having been taken through a
stratagem by Sultan Badshah Kaikubad, of the dynasty o
Ghaur, between the years 1286 and 1289 a.d., he razed it
to the ground, and built a new city,1 which he named after
himself. Some remains of the Bhar city are said to exist
in the mound called Majharganw, in the middle of the city,
and two wells at its southern verge. On the summit of the
mound, which is formed of the debris of the palace of the
Bhars, is a fort built by Kaikubad. Tanda is the most
thriving town in the chakld of Aldemau, being the seat of
the chief cloth manufactories in Oudh. The population is
about 6000, of whom the greater portion are weavers. 1 he
town stands about a mile from the western bank of the
Ghagra River. Ranjitpurua is the capital of Bainswara,
and has a population of nearly 60,000, of whom one-third
are Muslims. There is a fort of unburnt bricks, and two
or three of the King of Oudh’s regiments were always
quartered in this city. Cutlery is the chief manufacture.
Rae Bareli, in Bainswara, one of the most healthy spots n
Oudh, was once a city of upwards of 50 000 ^habitants
but this population has now dwindled to 8000. Extensive
manufactories of cloth once existed here.
solid masonry, a mile in circumfeience, wi ?
50 feet wide and 25 feet deep. 1he walls are,8 feet,t,lL
50 feet high on the outside, and 2o feet inside, and have
24 bastions. The description just given applies also to the
fort of Dalamau, which is an ancient city of Bainswara,
havin-a population of 10,000, on the eastern bank of the
Ganges, Ibout 40 miles to the N.W. of Manikpur. Salon
which gives its name to the chakld so called, is a town with
2000 inhabitants, 3 miles to the W. of the Sai River. It ou-
Cinally belonged to Kanhpuriya (or, according to Sleeman,
Kumpureya2) rajputs ; but they were dislodged for rebellion,
by the nuwab Asifu’d-daulah, who granted the town and its
attached lands to a fakir named Miyan Pir ’Ata, for the per¬
petual support of a religious eleemosynary establishment.
1 Sleeman’s account differs, see below, under “ Inhabitants.”
VOL. XVII.
2 Sleeman's Journal, vol. i., p- 247.
C
18 O U
Oude. The revenue is about 42,000 rupees a year, of which 30,000
are expended by Shah-panah ’Ata, the descendant of Pir
’Ata, in alms to Hindu and Muslim itinerant mendicants.
Tiloi, in the same chakld, is a town 55 miles S.E. of
Lakhnau, with a population of 10,000. It is remarkable
as the residence of a chief who is the lineal representative
of the ancient kings of Oudh, a family which dates perhaps
thirty centuries back. In the chakld of Lakhnau (Luck¬
now), besides the capital of Oudh, which, before the late
troubles, contained a population of perhaps half a million
(stated by Heber1 at 300,000), there are no towns of great
note. In Pachhamrat is the city of Faizabad ; and adjoin¬
ing it, on the east side, the remains of the renowned and
world-old city of Awadh, or Ayodhya (from a, “ not,” and
yudh, “ to make war,”—“ the inexpugnable” in Sanskrit),
the capital of the divine Ramah. There are still 8000 in¬
habitants in this most ancient city ; and houses extending
along the River Ghagra or Sarju, connect it with Faizabad.
Sa’adat’Alijthe first nuwab of Oudh, made Faizabad his resi¬
dence, and built a palace there in the year a.d. 1730. His suc¬
cessors, Saffdar Jang and Shuja’u’d-Daulah, further embel¬
lished the city; but when the latter acquired Rohilkhand,
he removed the seat of his government to Lakhnau. This
was in 1775, and the population of Faizabad from that time
began to decrease, but is still 100,000, of whom about one-
tenth are Muslims. The chief manufactures are cloth,
metal vessels, and arms. The Hindus call the city Bangld,
which signifies “ residence,” and Ayodhya, which latter
appellation properly belongs to the ruined city adjoining
Faizabad on the E., as above mentioned. Rasulabad and
Miyanganj, the two chief towns of the chakld called after
them, are situated 3 miles from each other, and about 30
miles to the W. of Lakhnau. Miyanganj was built by the
famous eunuch Miyan Almas ’Ali Khan, minister of Sa’adat
’AH II., and, according to Sleeman, “ the greatest and
best man of any note that Oudh has produced.”2 On be¬
ing visited by Sa’adat AH at this place, he built up a throne
of a million of rupees, and after the nuwab had taken his
seat upon it presented it to his highness. Almas built here a
large fort with eight circular bastions, surrounded at 500 feet
distance by a mud fortification with great Gothic gateways.
The whole intervening space was planted with mango trees,
of which there were magnificent avenues in Heber’s time.
The chakld of Khairabad contains several large and popu¬
lous towns. Of these, Khairabad, from which the chakld
has its name, is distant from Lakhnau 62 miles N.W., and
lies in N. Lat. 27. 32., E. Long. 80. 49. Tieffenthaler
speaks of it eighty years ago as populous, and situated
in a plain abounding in fruit trees, the cultivation of which
yielded L.120,000 annually. Six miles to the N.W. of this
stands Sitapur, where the 41st Bengal Native Infantry
mutinied and murdered all Christian and other Europeans.
Sandila is a large and populous town,3 30 miles N.W. of
Lakhnau, with many good houses of burnt brick and ce¬
ment. Thirteen miles N.W. of this is Hatya Haran, which
is held sacred as the spot where Ramah purified himself
from the sin of having killed a Brahman in the person of
Ravan, King of Ceylon. Misrik, a few miles from Hatya
Haran, is another very holy place, and celebrated as the
residence of the sage Dadhfch, with the bone of whose leg
the gods defeated the Titans. Bilgiram is a place once
considerable, and remarkable as the spot first fixed upon as
the British advanced post, which was subsequently with¬
drawn to Kanhpur (Cawnpore). Heber saw here the ruins
of officers’ houses, and what were once bells of arms.4
Bahraich, the chief town in Gonda-Bahraich, situated
about 2 miles to the E. of the Sahtf, an eastern branch of the
D E.
Sarju River, is celebrated as containing the shrine of Saiyid Oude.
Salar, who was killed in the beginning of the eleventh cen- ■
tury, when fighting against the Hindus in the army of his
maternal uncle, Mahmud of Ghazni. It is remarkable that
Hindus as well as Muslims make offerings at his shrine.
The river here is a beautiful clear stream, winding as through
a park. In many of the villages around the people are afflicted
with the goitre. The TarM Forest begins a few miles to
the N. Bahraich has been a very populous town, but has
greatly declined, and no part of Oudh has suffered so much
from lawless violence as the districts surrounding it. Sandi,
which gives its name to the chakld so called, is stated by
Heber to be a poor little village.® It is, however, remark¬
able for the noble mango groves that surround it, and for a
fine lake on the south side, abounding in fish and covered
with wild-fowl. The River Ghara flows under the town to
the north.6 Near it is a very holy place called Brahmavast,
situated on the lake to the south. The principal town in
the chakld is Shahabad, which is a very large and ancient
city, though Tennant in 1799 spoke of it as an expanse of
ruins. But both Heber and Sleeman speak of it as popu¬
lous ; and the latter says it is inhabited by Pathans, who are
a very turbulent race. The approach to the town is beauti¬
ful, from the rich crops which cover the ground up to the
houses, and the fine groves and majestic single trees which
surround it.
Though the extreme antiquity of the city of Awadh or Oudh, Inhabi-
called in Sanskrit, Ayodhya, and the legend of the Rajput princes, tants.
such as Ramah, who reigned there, appear to be incontrovertible
evidence that the Aryan race bore sway in Oudh from a very re¬
mote period, there is proof as irrefragable that still earlier abo¬
riginal tribes preceded the Aryan race in the possession of the
country, and attained many centuries back to some degree of civili¬
zation. The following passage from Sleeman’s Journal,’’ refers to
one of the most important of these aboriginal tribes, called Bhars,
and into it is compressed almost all that is known regarding them:—
<c Passed over some more sites of Bhar towns. The Oudh territory
abounds with these sites, but nothing seems to be known of the
history of the people to whom they belonged. They seem to have
been systematically extirpated by the Mohammedan conquerors in
the early part of the fourteenth century. All their towns seem to
have been built of burnt brick, while none of the towns of the
present day are so. There are numerous wells still in use, which
were formed by them of the finest burnt brick and cement; and the
people tell me that others of the same kind are frequently dis¬
covered in ploughing over fields. I have heard of no arms, coins,
or utensils peculiar to them having been discovered, though copper
sanads, or deeds of grant from the rajahs of Ivanoj, to other
people in Oudh, 600 years ago, have been found. The Bhars must
have formed town and village communities in this country at a
very remote period, and have been a civilized people, though they
have not left a name, date, or legend, inscribed upon any monu¬
ment. Brick ruins of forts, houses, and wells, are the only relics
to be found of these people. Some few of the caste are still
found in the humblest grade of society, as cultivators, police-officers,
&c., in Oudh and other districts north of the Ganges. Up to the
end of the thirteenth century their sovereignty certainly extended
over what are now called the Bainswafa and Bansda districts ; and
Sultanpur, under some other name, appears to have been their
capital. It was taken and destroyed early in the fourteenth cen¬
tury by Allahu’d-Din, Sultan of Delhi, or by one of his gene¬
rals, and named Sultanpur. Chandur was another great town
of these Bhars. I am not aware of any temples having been found
to indicate their creed.”
Another aboriginal tribe are the Pdsis (Pausies) of whom there
are supposed to be about 100,000 families in Oudh. They are em¬
ployed as village watchmen, but, with few exceptions, are thieves
and robbers by hereditary profession, and many of them adopt
poisoning as a trade. They form the worst part of the gangs of
refractory chiefs, using the bow and arrow so expertly that they
can send an arrow through a man at the distance of 100 yards.
There is no species of theft or robbery in which they are not skil¬
ful, and they prosper as the disorders of the country increase. In
the forces of any enterprising chief or bandit they serve without
1 Vol. i., p. 228, ed. 1843.
4 Heber’s Journal, vol. i., p. 230, ed. 1843,
i Vol. ii., p. 246.
2 Vol. i., p. 320.
6 Vol. i., p. 232.
3 Sleeman’s Journal, vol. ii., p. 2.
6 Sleeman’s Journal, vol. ii., p. 31.
o u
Oude. wages, for the sake of the booty to be acquired. But low as the
caste of these miscreants is, they assume the name of rajputs, when
ky murder and robbery they have acquired wealth and landed pro¬
perty. Then, by giving their daughters to rajputs, they often get
their pretensions to that proud name admitted. Thus tdeeman
mentions that Ganga Baksh of Kasimganj is a Pasi, and his family,
after acquiring landed possessions by the murder of the old pro¬
prietors, called themselves rawats, and had their claims allovved.
Brahmans and rajputs are exceedingly numerous in Oudh ; and,
according to Butter, the former out-number the latter throughout
the province, though their arrival in it was of later date, thus, it
is said, that about the Christian era Trilok Chand, a chief of the
Bains rajputs, came into Oudh from Ujjain, and that it was after
his tribe had become settled that some Brahmans immigrated from
Kanauj. The Oudh Brahmans have 22 sub-castes, of which the
Misr, the Shukl, the Tiwari, the Dube, the Phathak, the Upadhya,
and the Chaube are the principal. The Misr has 28 sub-divisions,
the Shukl 14, the Tiwari 23, the Dube 14, the Phathak 15, the
Upadhya 5, and the Chaube 3. Sleeman 1 2 informs us that the Kanauj
Brahmans condescend to hold and drive their own ploughs, a thing
which cannot be affirmed of any other family of Brahmans in Oudh.
Of rajputs, 29 tribes are enumerated, of which the most renowned
are the Bains, Rathur, Hara, Kachwa, Sombansi, Bisen, Solankhi,
Bachgoti, Dichit, Rajkumar, Chauhan, Janwar, and Sengar, or
Sanger. Butter affirms that these tribes differ in name only, and
all intermarry without restriction of family. There is no doubt,
however, that this is a mistake, and that it is owing in part to the
excessive restrictions upon contracting marriages with inferior
tribes that the dreadful and almost universal practice of female
infanticide is perpetuated. Sleeman was informed by the rajputs
themselves that this unnatural custom arose from the Muhammadan
princes of Delhi, and other Muslim chiefs, demanding the daughters
of rajputs in marriage, and they, being too proud to comply and
too weak to resist,3 determined upon putting all their female
infants to death. The same authority states that the Dhankaris4 and
Sengars are the only exceptions to the rule which stigmatizes all
rajputs as murderers of their daughters ; and that no rajput can
give his daughter to a rajput whose tribe is a shade lower, though
he can take a daughter from him. Thus the Sombansi cannot
betroth their daughters to any but Rathurs and Chauhans,and must
give their whole property with them. The custom of destroying
female infants has prevailed everywhere from the time of the first
founders of their race, according to their own account, but this is
extremely improbable. It is remarkable that the greater portion
of the Ahban rajputs have become Muslims. They still eat toge¬
ther with those who have not changed their creed, but from dif¬
ferent dishes ; and no member of the tribe ever forfeited his in¬
heritance by changing his religion. They are very numerous in
the northern part of Oudh, where, in Bharwara alone they once
possessed 989 villages, of which about one-tenth are now occupied.
Loni Singh of Mithadli, who sent in the English fugitives from
Sitapur to Lakhnau, is of this tribe.
Of the cultivating classes, the principal are the Kurmis, Lodhis,
and Kachls. Muhammadans probably do not exceed one-eighth of
the whole population of Oudh.
History As has been already stated, Oudh was one of the first provinces
and go- of India colonized from the West, and, according to Buchanan,
vernment. this settlement took place 1366 years b.c. The same authority
places the reign of Ramachandra, the son of Dasharathah, about
775 b.c. The Hindu legends, however, assign as the epoch of
this prince, the conqueror of Ceylon, the conclusion of the Treta
Yug, or Second Age. The kingdom of Oudh was then called
Koshalah, and its capital Ayodhyah; and it is remarkable that
Kausham, a word of kindred etymology to Kushalah, was the name
of the great and ancient city of Kanyakubja, or Kanauj, situated
close to the junction of the Kali Nadi with the Ganges, and the rajas
of which, there is little doubt, at times bore sway over Oudh. This
is the conjecture of Mr Elphinstone,6 and it is confirmed partly by
the etymological coincidence of the names, partly by the actual
immigration of a numerous tribe of Brahmans from Kanauj, who
are still called by the name of their original country. After Ramah,
the legendary conqueror of Ceylon, sixty princes reigned in Ayod¬
hyah, but nothing is recorded of them. The Ramayanah, or epic
poem which relates the exploits of Ramah, is now assigned by
Professor Wilson to 300 B.c. Ayodhyah is not mentioned in the
Mahabharatah, the next epic poem of the Hindus, which dates 240
B.c.6 With the exception of the immigration of Trilok Chand, the
Rajput prince, from Malwah into Oudh, about the commencement
D E. 19
of the Christian era, there is little to be collected regarding Oudh, Oude.
until the Muhammadan invasion. It must be remembered, however, ^ IW- ^ ^
that hundreds of works exist in Hindu, Persian, and Urdu, on the
history and antiquities of India, which have not only not been
translated by Europeans, but have never even been read by them;
and in these much that will throw light on the ancient annals of
Oudh may yet be discovered.
In his eighth invasion of India, Mahmud of Ghazni, in 1018 A.D.,
marched through North India, and captured the city of Kanauj.
There is good reason to think that a division of his army then invad¬
ed Oudh, for the shrine of Saiyid Salar, his reputed nephew, who is
said to have been killed fighting against the Hindus, is still the
object of pilgrimage at Bahraich. However this may be, it is cer¬
tain that in 1195 A.D., Muhammad Bakhtiyar Khilji, the general
of Kutbu’d-Din Aibak, Emperor of Delhi, conquered Oudh.7 In
1279, Tiggi, who was governor of Oudh for Ghiyasu’d-Din Bulbun,
was defeated by the rebellious governor of Bengal, and hanged by
the enraged emperor over the gates of Awadh, as Ayodhyah began
to be called. About 1304 a.d., Allahu’d-Din, Emperor of Delhi,
took the capital of the Bhars in Southern Oudh, and having razed
it, built on its site the present city of Sultanpur. From 1400 to
1478, there was an independent kingdom of Juanpur or Jaunpur,
the ruler of which had possession of Kanauj, and in 1452 even laid
siege to Delhi, but was finally overthrown by the Emperor Bihlol.
In 1528, Babar’s army, which he had sent to reduce Oudh, was there
defeated by an Afghan chief named Baban, whereupon Babar threw
a bridge over the Ganges, under the fire of his artillery, crossed
into Oudh, and drove his opponents out of the province. He was
compelled, however, to make a second campaign against Baban
who, when Babar was retiring to Agra, made a fresh inroad into
Oudh, and captured Lakhnau (Lucknow). After the death of
Babar, Baban raised a fresh insurrection in Oudh against Humayun,
but was finally crushed by that prince. At the accession of Akbar
in 1556, Jaunpur, with its adjoining districts of Oudh and the
Doab, had again been erected into an independent kingdom, but
in 1559 Akbar re-conquered it. From this time till the reign of
Muhammad Shah, and the commencement of the government of
Sa’adat ’Ali Khan, and the dynasty of which he was the founder,
the princes of this dynasty, and the dates of their accession, are as
follows
1. Sa’adat’Ali Khan  1720
2. Saffdar Jang, nephew and son-in-law of Sa’adat ’Ali.. 1739
3. Shuja’u’d-Daulah, son of Saffdar Jang  1756
4. Asafu’d-Daulah, son of Shuja’u’d-Daulah 1775
5. Vazlr ’AH, son of Asaf  1797
6. Sa’adat ’Ali, the second brother of Shuja’u’d-Daulah. 1798
7. Ghaziu’d-Din Haidar, son of Sa’adat ’Ali  1814
8. Nasiru’d-Din Haidar, son of Ghaziu’d-Din 1827
9. Muhammad ’Ali Shah, brother of Ghaziu’d-Din 1837
10. Amjad ’Ali Shah, son of Muhammad ’Ali 1842
11. Wajid ’Ali Shah, son of Amjad ’Ali  1847
The origin of the Oudh family, and the character of the first three
princes, have been grossly misrepresented by the historian Alexan¬
der Dow, who, having been refused the saltpetre farm of the Alla¬
habad districts by Shuja’u’d-Daulah, took this base method of
gratifying his resentment.8 His slanders, however, are completely
refuted by the unanimous voice of all the contemporary native
authors, by the evidence of Mr George Forster of the Bengal civil
service, a contemporary of Dow, and by the plain statement of facts
to be found in Mill, Grant Duff, and other English writers. Dow
imputes to Sa’adat ’Ali, throughout his account of that clnef s ca¬
reer, the vilest treachery to his emperor and his country; asserts that
Nadir Shah was invited to invade India by him and the ISizam ; and
introduces the conqueror upbraiding these two nobles as “ ungrate¬
ful villains to their king and country,” and spitting upon their
beards.10 He also speaks of Shuja’u’d-Daulah as “ the infamous son
of a still more infamous Persian pedlar enjoying the extensive pro¬
vince of Oudh as a reward for a series of uncommon villanies.”11
These assertions have been largely credited and copied by writers
of repute, but they are entirely without foundation. According to
native authors of eminence, the royal family of Oudh are Saiyids, or
descendants of the Prophet through the Imam Musa Kazim, and
therefore of the noblest Arabian descent. Forster mentions12 that,
during his journey through Persia, he had an opportunity of con¬
versing with some of the inhabitants of Naishapur, “ who bore
indisputable testimony to the ancient rank of the family of Shu¬
ja’u’d-Daulah.” Naishapur is one of the oldest cities in Khurasan,
1 Butter, pp. 146, 147. 2 Vol. ii., p. 40.
6 History of India, p. 206, 3d ed.; and cf. Elliot’s Bibliographical Index, p. 35.
7 Firishtah, vol. i., p. 198. 8 Forster’s Travels, vol. i., p- 132.
10 Vol. ii., p. 324, ed. 1770. 11 Ibid., p. 380.
3 Vol. ii., p. 49. 4 Ibid.
6 Ibid., p. 207, note.
9 The Siyaru’l Mutaakhkhirxn ; Nadir Ndmah, &C.
12 Vol. L, p. 132.
20
0 U D E.
Oude.
and was for a long period during the ninth and tenth centuries
after Christ the capital of that province. Here the ancestors of
the Oudh family have, for a very long space of time, held landed
possessions and ranked among the princes of the place. Mirza
Nasir, one of this family, and the father of Sa’adat Khan, the first
nuwab of Oudh, came to Hindustan in the beginning of the reign
of Bahadur Shah, the second son of Aurangzlb. The emperor ap¬
pointed him to a high office at ’Azimabad, where his tomb yet
remains. His second son Muhammad Amin was in Persia when
Nasir died, and on being apprised of his father’s decease, imme¬
diately set out for Hindustan, and was made by the Emperor Far-
rukhsiyar colonel of his body-guard.1 Being a man of extraor¬
dinary personal courage and prowess, he soon rose to still higher
distinctions, and was made governor of the fort of Agra. It was
he who was the main instrument in delivering the Emperor Mu¬
hammad Shah from the tyranny of the two Saiyids, who had al¬
ready murdered his predecessor Farrukhsiyar. During a terrible
imeute at Delhi, when the pusillanimous emperor hid himself in
the seraglio, he rushed in, forced him from his retreat, made him
mount an elephant, and cut a way for him, sword-in-hand, through
a multitude of rebels. At the battle of Shahpur, in 1720, when
Saiyid ’Abd’ullah was defeated and made prisoner, he greatly dis¬
tinguished himself, and received the title of Sa’adat Khan ^ur‘
hanu’l Mulk, “ the felicitous lord, establisher of the realm, ’ by
which name he was ever afterwards known. He was then ap¬
pointed governor of Oudh, and reduced it from a state of anarchy
to complete order, for which he was promoted to the ranl1 of
daroghah khas, with the titular command of 7000 horse. In 1736,
Bail Rao, advancing to the Jamna, 40 miles south of Agra, ravaged
the country far and near. Three of his generals—Mulhar Kao
Holkar, Pillaji Jadav, and Wittoji Bole—committed great depre¬
dations in the Doab, when Sa'adat Khan, advancing from Oudh,
overthrew their forces with great slaughter, and chased them for
miles. He then moved on to Agra,2 and took a prominent part in
the subsequent operations against the Marathas. In the meantime,
Muhammad Mukim, nephew of Sa’adat, came to India, and married
his cousin, the daughter of Sa’adat. He soon distinguished him¬
self, and was ennobled by the title of Abu’l Mansur Saffdar Jang,
by which name he is afterwards known in history. In 1737, he,
with the raja of Kotah, commanded the rearguard of the Mughul
army in that year’s campaign against the Marathas. Some years
after, Nadir Shah invaded India; and the calumnies of Dow re¬
specting the treachery of Sa’adat Khan, and his aid of the invader,
are refuted by the unanimous testimony of the Siyaru'l Mutaakh-
khirin, the Nadir Ndmah, the Yddgdr i Bahddun, the Zafar Ad-
tnah, and all the histories of the time. Sa’adat Khan advanced
with an army of 30,000 men to the assistance of his own emperor
Muhammad Shah, fought a severe action with Nadir Shah, was
made prisoner, and shortly after died of cancer in the back. That
his action with Nadir “ was no concerted plan,” as Dow pretends,
was proved by the fact, that seven principal Persian leaders, and
2500 inferior officers and men, were killed, and upwards of 5000
wounded.3 Sa’adat received no token of favour from the con¬
queror; and when Nadir retired, Muhammad Shah promoted Saff¬
dar Jang to the government of his deceased uncle. The character
of Sa’adat is thus given in the Siyaru'l Mutaakhkhinn : “ He was
excessively brave, chivalrous, and valiant; a man of great parts,
thirsting after glory and renown, and of singular firmness and
W1Saffdar Jang, together with the government of Oudh, had the
appointment of mir dtish, or commander of the artillery. In 1746
he was one of the chief leaders of the imperial army of Delhi that
defeated Ahmad Shah Durrani, and caused him to retire to Kabul.
Next year Muhammad Shah was succeeded on the throne of Delhi
by Ahmad Shah, his eldest son, who raised Saffdar Jang to the dig¬
nity of vazir of the empire. In 1753 a powerful conspiracy was
formed against him, at the head of which was the viceroy of the
Dakhan, Najibu’d-Daulah, the chief of the Rohillahs, and the
favourite eunuch. Saffdar Jang was compelled to resort to arms,
laid siege to Delhi; and after an investment of the capital for six
months, compelled the emperor to grant to him in perpetuity tie
provinces of Oudh and Allahabad. The same year he died,* and
was succeeded by his son Tillahu’d-Din Haidar, known to the Eng-
lish by his title of Shuja’u’d-Daulah, who is thus described by his
enemy Dow :—“ Shuja’u’d-Daulah is extremely handsome in his
person; about 5 feet 11 inches in height; and so nervous and strong,
that with one stroke of the sabre he can cut off the head of a buf¬
falo. He is active, passionate, and ambitious, but his genius is too
volatile for depth of thought; and he is consequently more fit for
the manly exercises of the field than for deliberation in the closet.
Till of late he gave little attention to business. He was up before
the sun, mounted his horse, rushed into the forest, and hunted
down tigers or deer till the noon of day. He then returned,
plunged into the cold bath, and spent his afternoons among his
women. He now spends more time atthecomptoirof hisfinancesthan
in dallying with the ladies of his seraglio. His authority, therefore,
is established, his revenues increased, and his army on a respectable
footing But with all his splendid qualities, he is cruel, treacherous,
unprincipled, and deceitful. If we except personal courage, he
possesses not one virtue more than Saffdar Jang.”6 Such was the
prince who was ere long to measure swords with the English. His
first achievement was in 1756, when Dattaji Sindhiya,6 advancing
with a great Maratha army to conquer Rohilkhand, was encoun¬
tered by him, and effectually checked. On this occasion, a division
of the Marathas, commanded by Govind Pant, was routed with
o-reat slaughter, and driven across the Jamna, in whose waters a
great partof it perished.7 After this the Marathas made peace
with the nuwab of Oudh, and marched off to attack Ahmad Shah
Durrani, a movement which resulted in their terrible overthrow
at Panipat.
In 1759, ’Ali Gauhar, eldest son of the Emperor ’Alamgir II.,
formed a league with Muhammad Kuli Khan, the subahdar of Al¬
lahabad, to invade Bengal, which was then governed by Mir J’afar,
the ally of the British. They invited Shuja’u’d-Daulah to aid
them in this enterprise, which he agreed to do ; but no sooner had
they marched than he, by stratagem, got possession of the fortress
of Allahabad, and soon after put to death Muhammad Kuli, who
strangely enough returned and gave himself up. The English his¬
torians have not understood the true cause of this cruel action, but
a perusal of the native writers will explain it. Muhammad Kuli
was brother’s son to Saffdar Jang, and of course heir-presumptive
to Shuja’a. He had been appointed by Saffdar Jang to the com¬
mand of Allahabad, and had entirely withdrawn himself from the
authority of the court of Oudh. A strong faction, at the head of
which was Ism’ail Khan of Kabul, had intrigued to put him in the
place of Shuja’u’d-Daulah, who several times escaped with diffi¬
culty from their designs. The policy of an eastern prince in such
cases is well known; and Shuja’a preferred to sacrifice his cousin
rather than himself. ,
In 1760, ’Alamgir, having been murdered by his vazir, All
Gauhar, was proclaimed emperor by the title of Shah ’Alam,
and his first step was to make Shuja’u’d-Daulah vazir on. the
6th of January 1761. Shuja’u’d-Daulah commanded a division
in the battle of Panipat, and from that time became the most
powerful prince in Hindustan. The Marathas were crushed by
their tremendous defeat, Muhammad Kuli was dead, Allahabad
re-incorporated with Oudh, and everything combined to encourage
the vazir to encounter the British, an opportunity for which was
not long wanting. On the 24th of May 1763 the city of Patna
had been seized by Mr Ellis, a violent, unprincipled man, who was
determined to force Mir Kasim, the nuwab of Bengal, into a war.
A struggle accordingly commenced, and after severe fighting, Mir
Kasim, defeated at all points, crossed into Oudh, and tnrew himself
on the protection of Shuja’u’d-Daulah; who, with the Emperor
Shah ’Alam, was encamp ed at Allahabad. Shuja’a espoused the
cause of the fugitive nuwab; and, crossing the Ganges in the
beginning of April 1764, laid siege to Patna, but was beaten
off with loss. The mutinous conduct of the English troops delayed
their operations for some time ; but on the 23d of October 1764
Major Hector Munro came up with the Oudh army at Baksar, and
after a severe action of five hours, put it to flight. The English
loss was 101 Europeans and 773 Sipahis killed and wounded, or
more than one in nine of their whole army. Shuja’a had 200.0
men killed, and lost 133 guns of all sizes. In its results, this
battle was a second Plassy, as it left the English without a rival
to their power, and compelled the Emperor Shah ’Alam to throw
himself on their protection; thus giving to their subsequent pro¬
ceedings the colour of legitimate authority. Shuja’a now entered
into negotiations with the English, but as he refused to surrender
Mir Kasim, Sumroo, and the European deserters, operations in the
field still continued ; and a treaty was concluded with Shah ’Alam,
by which he ceded to the English Ghazipur and part of the ter¬
ritory of Balwant Singh, raja of Banaras, while they agreed to put
him in possession of all the dominions of Shuj4’u’d-Daulah ; but
Oude.
i Siyaru'l Mutaakhkhirin. 2 Grant Duff’s Mardthas, vol. i., p. 532. 3 Porster) vol. i., p. 136.
* According to Forster and Grant Duff, in 1754. Mill gives 1753 as the year of his decease, Thornton 1756 ; but the authentic annals
6 - - . = 1752-53. 6 Dow, vol. ii., p. 394.
6 Molesworth spells this name Shinda; the above is the Hindustani form of it, though Shakspeare makes it Sendhiya.
of the Oudh family, written in Persian, give 1166 a.h. = 1752-53.^
6 Molesworth spells this name Shinda; the above is the Hindusta
7 Grant Duff, vol. ii., p. 135. 8 Mill, vol. iii., p. 405.
O U D E.
21
Oude.
the Court of Directors utterly disapproved and disallowed these
terms on the ground that extension of territory was impohtic
disadvantageous. Colonel Munro’s army advanced from Banaras
to theattack of Chunar, and after two unsuccessful assaults, returned
to its quarters, hut two battalions of natives occupied Lakhna .
Mun™ resigned in January 1765, and was succeeded by Major
Fletcher who, dividing his force, with one part of it reduced the
AUSbSWa districts; »»d with the other, eomotaoded h, Major
S^.ToTcd.ih.d^0theCM.“to., who entered Oodh by
v v, nil nn the 3d of May 1765 were defeated near that place
wtn ral .od^eecond time ne.r Akbarpdr, where
however they plundered a great part of the English baggage At
the ford’ of Kahn (Calpee) they again attempted to make a stand,
but after a short action, were finally broken and dispersed
Shuia’a with an appreciation of the English character which did
him credit, now determined to throw himself on their generosity,
and in August 1765 they concluded a peace with him the principal
conditions of which were, that he should pay L 500,000 towards the
expenses of the war, surrender the fort of Chunar, not receive
Kdsim ’All or any deserters into his service, cede Karha and Al¬
lahabad to Shah ’Alam, levy no duties on any of the Company
merchandise throughout his dominions, pardon those of his sub¬
jects who had aided the English in the late war, and not molest
Balwant Singh, their ally. He also covenanted to aid the English
with his troops if their territories were invaded; amd they, in return
for all these advantages, agreed to furnish him assistance in case of a
like necessity. It has been said that, from the battle of Bak-ssiii-
fBuxar), Oudh was a conquered country ; and that the English
having then given it to ShujaVd-Daulah, might be justified in
resuming their gift if badly administered But Ohdh wa8 never
entirely subjugated, or even overrun ; and the utmost that was
ever proposed by the Bengal government was to make H over,
when conquered, to Shah ’Alam; a design that was bitterly
censured by the Court of Directors. The words of Lord Clive
are conclusive as to the motives of the treaty. He says1. Our
restoring to ShujaVd-Daulah the whole of his dominions proceeds
more from the desire of not extending the Company s terri¬
torial possessions, than the generous policy of attaching him
for ever to our interests by gratitude, though this has been
the apparent, and is by many thought to be the real, motive.
Had we ambitiously attempted to retain the conquered country,
experience would soon have proved the impracticability of ™ch *
plan.” Shuja’a, taught by his misfortunes, set to work to remedy his
reverses with an energy and success which were proofs of a superior
mind. In return for the districts ceded to him, the emperor
granted to Shuja’a the hereditary possession of his dominions ; and
so well did the nuwab arrange his financial system, that in 1768
he had not only paid off all his debts, but possessed a full treasury
and a flourishing revenue. He disbanded his irregulars and re¬
duced the cavalry—which at the battle of Baksar amounted to
30,000, and had deserted him there without striking a blow—to
5000. With the help of some Frenchmen, he remodelled his army,
raised ten disciplined battalions, and founded an arsenal at Faiza-
bad. This progress aroused the jealousy of the English, who, in
November 1768, imposed a new treaty on him which limited the
number of his troops to 35,000 men, including irregulars. This
restraint was exceedingly galling to the nuwab; and he henceforth
viewed the English with distrust. However, in 1772 the Doab
and Rohilkhand were overrun by a powerful Maratha army under
Sindhya, Holkar, and Hari Pant, who possessed themselves of all
the territory belonging to Ahmad Khan Bangash, except the town
and environs of Farrukhabad. Alarmed at this formidable inva¬
sion, the Rohillas besought Shuja’u’d-Daulah to procure the aid of
an English brigade, and engaged to pay L.400,000 for its support.
Shuja’a obtained the troops required, and the Marathas were com¬
pelled to retire from their conquests ; but the Rohillas then could
not, or would not, make good their promise. And here occurs one
of the blackest pages in the history of the nuwabs of Oudh.
Shuja’a was under obligations to the Rohillas, though there had
been many passages of arms between them. They had sheltered
his family in his misfortunes after the battle of Baksar, and had
forborne to strike when he was unable to resist. It was therefore
infamous to design their ruin,—a design which he now framed and
accomplished with the aid of the English, who sold the liberties of
this brave people to him for L.400,000. At the same time, Mr
Hastings made over to Shuja’a, for L.500,000, the districts of Alla¬
habad and Karha, which belonged to the emperor, and had been
solemnly assigned to him by the British themselves in return for an
important service. The treaty was concluded in the end of 1773;
and on the 17th of April 1774, Colonel Champion, with an Englioh
brigade accompanying the Oudh army, entered Rohilkhand. On
the morning of the 23d a decisive battle was fought, in which the
Rohillas were utterly broken, and their general, Hafiz Rahmat
was slain.
After this dishonourable success, Shuja a gave still stronger
proofs of his callousness to generous sentiments in the cruel severity
with which he treated the conquered Rohillas. It must be re¬
membered, however, that, as a Shi'ah dealing with Sunnis, he had
a religious incentive to rigour, similar to that which steeled the
heart of the English Mary against her Protestant subjects, and
made Philip II. deluge the Netherlands with blood. This fact
has been wholly lost sight of by the English historians. It must be
added that Shah ’Alam had given his sanction to the conquest;
that the English supported Shuja’a in all his proceedings; and that,
as a mere question of policy, it was certainly for his interest to
crush, and if possible extirpate, such warlike and dangerous neigh¬
bours’as the Afghans, who have given their name to Rohilkhand.
He was yet busy with the arrangement of the conquered province,
when a disease with which he was afflicted broke out so virulently
that he was compelled to retire to Faizabad, where he died in
January 1775, aged forty-six. He had received from his father a
considerable principality, surrounded by implacable and powerful
enemies; he left to his son an extensive and flourishing kingdom,
secure from all aggression. Whatever his private character, he
must be regarded as one of the ablest and most successful princes
that have ruled in Hindustan. He was succeeded by Mirza Ar-
nani, his eldest legitimate son, who assumed the title of Asafu d-
Daulah, and who removed the royal residence to Lakhnau, then
a mere village.2 The Bengal Council, in opposition to the opinion
of Mr Hastings, shamelessly seized this opportunity to extort im¬
mense sums from the young nuwab; and, to use the words of Mr Mill,
“while they exacted all, and far more than had been covenanted by
Shuja’a, from his son, declared their own engagements to be void by
Shuja’a’s death.” They compelled Asaf.to raise the pay of the brigade
which they had lent to his father, and which was no longer required
in Oudh, to L.330,000 a year, and annexed territory bringing an-
nuallyL.230,000. The firstobjectof thenewnuwabwastoobtainfrom
the emperor the office of vazir, which had been held by his father.
This he secured in 1776, by sending at an opportune time 5000
men and some guns to the emperor’s assistance.. But this was the
only gleam of sunshine during his reign, the history of which is
that of a continual struggle with the exorbitant demands of the
English. They drew from Oudh enormous sums, to supply which
the wretched kingdom was parcelled out to farmers of revenue, who,
as they grew powerful by draining the country of its wealth, gra¬
dually shook off their allegiance to the nuwab, and defied his au¬
thority. In addition to the brigade which, by the treaty of 1' aiza-
bad, had been quartered on Shuja’a, a second, called the temporary
brigade, was added in 1777, and several detached corps were froin
time to time imposed on the unfortunate Asaf, at an expense of
L.120,000 a year more. Besides the Resident, who, by an agree¬
ment between Shuja’a and Mr Hastings, had been located in Oudh,
another Company’s agent was now added ; and the expense of their
establishments, and of the pensions, allowances, and gifts to various
Company’s officers, grew to that height, that no revenue, however
elastic, could bear.2 In 1779 the unfortunate nuwab petitioned for the
removal of the troops quartered upon him, stating that they were
“not only quite useless to his government, but, moreover, the
cause of much loss, both in the revenues and customs, and that the
detached bodies of troops, under their European officers, brought
nothing but confusion into the affairs of his government, being en¬
tirely their own masters.” But the exigencies of the governor-
general were such that he was determined to force a supply of
money from Oudh, in defiance of all reason and justice The alleged
debt to the English now amounted to L.1,400,000, and the salaries
of the nuwab’s own servants, and even of the members of the
royal family, were deeply in arrears. Of the way in which this ruin
had been caused a single specimen will suffice Colonel Hannay *
a Company’s officer greatly in debt, was foisted into the nuwab s
service in 1778, as farmer of Bahraich and Gorakhpur, and in
1781 had realized a fortune of L.300,000 ! On the 19th September
1781 Mr Hastings signed a new treaty with the nuwab at Chunar,
by which he was relieved of the burdens which had been so unjustly
imposed upon him, on condition of his plundering his grandmother,
the1 Bahu Bigam, and his mother, of all their wealth, and sending
it over to the English. This resulted in the famous spoliation of
the Bigams, which formed the subject of the eloquent denunciations
of Sheridan and Burke. A brief resume of the question will be
found in the pages of Mill and Wilson, the former of whom cen¬
sures the conduct of Hastings in the strongest terms, while the
latter inclines to defend him, but indirectly admits that the spolia-
Oude.
1 Mill, vol. iii., p. 590.
2 Sleeman, vol. i., p. 137.
3 Mill, vol. iv., p. 420.
4 Ibid., vol. iv., pp. 429-459.
22 0 U
Oude. tion of the royal ladies was a thing wholly at variance with the
i - > “ easy temper” of the nuwab, and that he was driven to it by the
insatiable demands of the English. For his part in the transaction,
Mr Hastings accepted—that is, extorted—a. douceur of L.100,000.
The next step was to despoil Faiz’ullah Khan, a Rohilla chief who
had been suffered to remain in Rohilkhand by Shuja’u’d-Daulah,
and who had brought his territory into the most flourishing state.
It would, however, be impossible to condense into a short space the
financial transactions of the English government with ’Asafu’d-
Daulah. Suffice it to say, that from 1777 to 1786 the nuwab was
compelled to pay the Company L.840,000 per annum, instead of
L.330,000, which had been forced from him by the iniquitous
treaty of 1775, and L.360,000 extorted by the still more ini¬
quitous treaty of 1781. In addition to this, his country had been
plundered by the gigantic frauds, briberies, and extortions of
the Company’s officers, as a sample of which may be taken the
expenses of Major Palmer, the agent of Hastings, which alone were
L.112,950,—L.22,800 being that gentleman’s moderate annual
salary.1 Sir J. Macpherson and Lord Cornwallis alleviated this
frightful oppression to some extent, but they only pruned and did
not extirpate the evil; and in March 1797 Sir John Shore com¬
menced new exactions, and imposed on the wretched nuwab the
expense of two additional regiments of cavalry—one European, the
other native. A few months after, Asafu’d-Daulah expired, leav¬
ing an impoverished country, a bankrupt treasury, and a dissatis¬
fied people. He was a mild, easy, and somewhat indolent and
sensual prince ; but no abilities or virtues could have protected him
against the relentless tyranny of the English government. He
himself admitted that he had been rendered reckless and desperate
by its insatiable demands. Mirza ’AH, the reputed son of Asaf,
known to English writers as Vazir ’AH, was now raised to the throne,
and was publicly acknowledged by the English government. There
was, however, a powerful faction against him ; and Sir J. Shore
hearing that he was a youth of impracticable temper, visited
Lakhnau, and received proffers of vast sums if he would set him
aside. “ A large pecuniary sacrifice,” says the governor-general,
“ was promised as a compensation for my acquiescence. Accord¬
ingly, on the 21st of January 1798, the nuwab was deposed, and
Sa’adat ’AH II., brother of Asafu’d-Daulah was raised to the
throne on payment of L.120,000 in ready money, and on condition
of raising the annual subsidy to the English to L.760,000, and pay¬
ing all the expenses of the English armies in Oudh when exceeding
13,000 men. He further ceded the fortress of Allahabad ; and agreed
to employ no Europeans, except Company’s officers, in his service,
nor permit them to settle in his dominions ; to hold no communi¬
cation with any foreign state ; and to settle L.15,000 a year on
the deposed Vazir ’AH. The latter having been deprived of
a kingdom on evidence upon which, to use the words of the
historian Mill, “ a court of English law would not have decided
against him a question of a few pounds,”2 was removed to
Banaras. In 1799 it was resolved, in order to prevent any in¬
trigues in his favour, to convey him to Calcutta; an intention
which he bitterly resented. On the 14th of January in that
year, he called on the Resident at Banaras, Mr Cherry, to com¬
plain; and on being chidden, rose from his chair and struck at him
with his sword. His attendants immediately despatched the Resi¬
dent and two other gentlemen ; but on the arrival of a party of
horse, took to flight. Having thus made his escape, Vazir ’AH
was soon joined by several thousand men, and maintained himself
in rebellion for some time. He was at last traitorously given up
to the English by a Rajput chief, and carried to Calcutta, where
he died a prisoner in Fort-William in 1817.
Sa’adat’Ali II. is represented by Sleeman at his first accession as
a careless, jovial prince, fond of the chase and. the glass. He was,
nevertheless, so deeply impressed with the miserable condition of
Oudh, and the impossibility of satisfying the demands of the Eng¬
lish, that he atone time contemplated the abdication of his throne.
Lord Wellesley, the then governor-general, eagerly grasped at this
proposal, and used every stratagem and menace to secure the
whole kingdom for the Company, but finding that Sa adat had no
intention of trafficking away the birthright of his sons, and would
not resign except in their favour, he compelled him to cede the
D E.
richer half of his territories, including Etawah, Karha, Farruk- Oude.
habad, and the whole of Rohilkhand, ’Azimgarh, Gorakhpur, Alla-
habad, and many other districts, producing in all L.1,334,730
annually. The nuwab was further bound to dismiss all his regular
troops, save five battalions of infantry, 2000 cavalry, and 300
artillerymen ; the English government undertaking to defend the
kingdom against all foreign aggression, and to coerce all rebellious
subjects. Of foreign aggression there never was the least proba¬
bility ; but when called upon to reduce rebellious chiefs, the
English refused, or yielded a grudging compliance,3 and in the
succeeding reigns altogether refused to observe this condition of
the treaty. The treaty was signed on the 14th of November 1801,
and from that hour Sa’adat ’AH became a changed man. He gave
up all the moderate pleasures to which he had been accustomed,
and devoted himself heart and soul to the management of his king¬
dom. For the remaining fourteen years of his life few princes in
ancient or modern times have displayed such self-denial and such
attention to the business of their government as Sa’adat. During
his “ salutary rule”4 * a great part of Oudh is described as “ a mag¬
nificent garden.”6 By his prudence and economy he so reduced
his expenditure within his income, that on his death, on the 12th of
July 1824, he left fourteen millions sterling in a treasury which he
found empty when he entered upon the government in 1797. .He
was a man of great general ability ; had mixed much in the society
of British officers in different parts of India; had been well trained
to habits of business; understood thoroughly the character, insti¬
tutions, and requirements of his people; and, above all, was a
sound judge of the relative merits and capacities of the men from
whom he had selected his officers, and a vigilant supervisor of
their actions. He had a thorough knowledge of the rights and
duties of his officers and subjects, and a strong will to secure the
one and enforce the other.6 Yet this was the man that Lord
Wellesley would have put aside as worthless and incapable.^
Sa’adat ’AH II. was succeeded by his second son, styled Ghaziu’d-
Din Haidar. Shamsu’d-Daulah, the eldest son7 of Sa’adat, died
before his father, and left a son ; but he, according to the Muham¬
madan law, -was excluded from the succession by his father’s death
in his grandfather’s lifetime. Ghaziu’d-Din was young and in pos¬
session of vast wealth : he gave himself up to pleasure, and neglected
the government. He was, besides, unfortunate in his selection of
a minister—Agha Mir, who was utterly dishonest, though a man of
abilities. The young nuwab, immediately on his accession, gave to
the minister L.500,000 to be expended in public works and charity.
This Agha Mir retained for himself, and forged letters to show
that he had expended it as desired. Another million was bor¬
rowed by Lord Moira for the expenses of the Nepal war. The
Resident, Major Baillie, was instructed to apply for the money, and
“to make it appear as a voluntary offer on the part of the nuwab. ®
In March 1815 the Resident was instructed to apply for a second
million, which he did in so disrespectful a manner that the nuwab,
although he surrendered the money, insisted on his removal, and
to this the governor-general assented; and on the 1st of May 1816
granted to the nuwab, in discharge for the millions just lent, an
unproductive marshy forest called the Tarai, just taken from Nepal.
This region became the sanctuary for all the rebels and banditti in
Eastern Oudh, and there they built their strongholds. But money
was not the only thing supplied by the nuwab to the English. In
addition to the vast sums just mentioned, he mounted a whole
regiment of English cavalry at his own expense, and supplied
various necessaries towards the wars the Company were carrying on.
In return for these services, and to sow jealousy between the courts
of Delhi and Lakhnau, Lord Moira encouraged the nuwab to as¬
sume the title of King. Accordingly, in 1817, Ghaziu d-Din for
the first time coined money in his own name, and assumed the title
of King in the year following. At the end of 1825, another “ per¬
petual loan” of a million was borrowed from the king by the
Company, the interest of which was to be paid to the minister,
Agha Mir, who, by a gross fraud, had obtained the king’s consent.
Next year another loan of half a million was obtained for, as it
was said, twx> years. On the 20th of October 1827 Ghaziu’d-Din
died, having expended, or rather given to the English, four
millions of the fourteen bequeathed to him by his father. “ He
1 Mill, vol. v., p. 13, note. • f e
2 Ibid., p. 54. Wilson attempts to justify Sir J. Shore, and says many impartial witnesses were consulted; but, in the nature ot
things, there could have been no impartial witnesses at Lakhnau, and the judge himself, Sir J. Shore, was an interested party, lor ms
government gained enormous sums by his decision. Moreover, the inquiry was private ; and, if made at all, should have een ma e e
fore the public acknowledgment by the English of Vazir ’AH’s legitimacy. There is no dispute that ’Asafu’d-Daulah acknowledged
Vazir ’AH as his son; and the troops and people were so much in his favour that there was a partial insurrection when he fled -f3-
naras. Wilson alleges that Sa’adat had then become unpopular by his parsimony; but this is refuted by Sleeman, who. says a
Sa’adat did not commence his economical reforms till 1801. 3 Sleeman, vol. i., p. 65. 4 Ibid., vol. i., p. o.
6 Ibid., pp. 54, 273; vol. ii., p. 79. Sleeman, vol. ii., p. 190.
7 Vide Sleeman, Mill, vol. viii., p. 11, note, seems to be in error here. Mill, vol. viii., p. Ill, note.
Oudinot.
O U D
was an encourager of letters and the arts ; was of a kind and con¬
ciliatory disposition, and afforded a not unfavourable specimen of an
Asiatic prince1;” but his ministers defrauded him of enormous sums,
and as he was prevented by treaty from keeping up sufficient troops
of his own, and the British troops refused to act against refractory
zamindars, that system of baronial aggrandizement commenced un¬
der his reign which has now made Oudh what England was during
the worst period of the wars of the Roses. He was succeeded by
his eldest son Sulaiman Jah, who assumed the title of Nasiru d-
Din Haidar. The treasury was full, and the young king was
anxious to spend his money in the manner best calculated to do
good and please our government;” and Sir W. Sleeman has left it
on record,3 that had the English Resident given good advice, or even
been willing to meet the king’s advances, “ Oudh might have been
covered with useful public works.” But the Residents for a long
period of years made it their business to do nothing, or only in¬
terfered to extort vast sums of money, or to prefer the complaints
of the Company’s sipahis, who were allowed privileges contrary to
all iustice and order. The object of the political officers employed
in Oudh was, in plain words, to bring on such a state of affairs as
should justify the annexation of the province. Nasiru’d-Din, re-
pelled by the Resident, gave himself over to sensual and intempe¬
rate habits, in which he had been encouraged from his early youth
by his adopted mother, the Padshah Bigam, a woman of an ungovern¬
able temper, but over-indulgent to her son. Among his first mea¬
sures, the king attempted to make the fraudulent Agha Mir dis¬
gorge the enormous sums of which he had robbed the state, but
the British government threw their aegis over the traitor, and
permitted him a safe retreat to Cawnpore, where he died in 1832.
Some years before his death he set up a printing-press at Cawnpore,
whence he disseminated attacks upon the Oudh government. His
son took a leading part against the English in the mutiny at the
above station, and held a high office under the infamous Nana
Sahib. Hakim Mahdi, who had been ijarahddr, or farmer, of Mu¬
hammad! (Mahomdee) and Khairabad from 1804 to 1819, and had
made those districts a blooming garden, succeeded Agha Mir4 (after
a brief interval, till February 1829, during which period Fazl ’All
was minister), endeavoured to introduce reforms which would have
restored Oudh to the condition in which it was under Sa’adat ’Ali,
but the king was immersed in sensual pleasures, and surrounded
by vile courtiers and still viler Europeans, whose interest it was
to prevent reform.6 Hakim Mahdi was silenced, and even dismissed
after two years’ tenure of office,6 and was succeeded by an imbecile
old man, Roshanu’d-Daulah,7 who was thwarted in everything by
the king’s unworthy favourites. Nasiru’d-Din died, it is said by
poison, on the night of the 7 th of July 1837, and was succeeded by
his uncle, Nasiru’d-Daulah, who assumed the title of Muhammad
’Ali Shah. He was the third son of Sa’adat ’Ali II., and, ac¬
cording to Muslim law, became heir to the throne, owing to the
death, during his father’s lifetime, of his elder brother Shamsu’d-
Daulah, whose four sons were thereby excluded from the succes¬
sion. Nasiru’d-Din had left a son, Muna Jan, by a lady named
Afzal Mahal, but bad disowned him in order to gratify his re¬
sentment against the Padshah Bigam, whom, in later years, he de-
O U D
23
tested, and who doted on the boy. The Bigam was not a person to Oughtred.
suffer the rights of her favourite to be set aside without a struggle ;
and when Nasiru’d-Din died, she marched to the palace with
an armed multitude, and caused Muna Jan to be proclaimed king.
The Resident, Colonel Low, however, suppressed the imeute, kill¬
ing and wounding 120 of the Bigam’s followers; and Muna, who
was pronounced by the English government illegitimate,8 was sent
to Chunar. Muhammad ’Ali Shah was a parsimonious and pru¬
dent old man, but in his short reign, till the 16th of May 1842, he
could not restore the treasures wasted by his predecessor, who had
inherited L.10,000,000, and left but L.700,000. He bequeathed,
however, L.788,000 to his second son Amjad ’Ali, who succeeded to
the throne, to the exclusion of Mumtazu’d-Daulah, the son of his
elder brother Asghar ’Ali,—Asghar having died during his father’s
lifetime. Amjad ’Ali9 died on the 13th of February 1847, and left
L.1,358,400, and this, as far as can be ascertained, was expended by
Wajid ’Ali, the ex-king of Oudh, before his deposition, which took
place on the 1st of January 1856. Wajid ’Ali is a good poet and an
accomplished man of letters, but not a man of business, and before
his accession the great barons had become altogether too powerful
to be controlled. The royal revenue declined daily during his
reign ; but on the whole, the condition of Oudh was not deteriorat¬
ing, and the barons drew ample and increasing revenues from their
estates. They maintain to this day 100,000 armed followers, and
have 400 forts of such strength, that one of them (that of Rudha-
mau) has lately successfully defied a whole division of British troops,
and repulsed their attack, with the loss of a general and 120 men.
It was for the English government to have reduced and destroyed
these forts, and to have restored the king’s power, or to have retired
from the country and left him to fight his own battles. The latter
course was the one recommended by Lord Dalhousie, who felt that
by the treaty of 1837, made by the governor-general, Lord Auck¬
land, who had full powers to conclude it, and acknowledged by suc¬
ceeding governors-general, though not by the Court of Directors,
the kings of Oudh could not be deposed for misgovernment. That
treaty provided, that in case of serious internal disorders, the Eng¬
lish should assume the administration in trust for the king, and
restore it to him, or his successors, when matters were adjusted.
In an evil hour, however, in spite of the remonstrances of the
ablest Residents, Sir W. Sleeman and Colonel Low, and the pro¬
tests of two of the most enlightened directors, the home government
resolved on the unjust and impolitic step of annexing Oudh to the
dominions of the Company. The announcement was received with
indignation and astonishment throughout India, and more than one
Indian prince declared publicly in open court, that no native poten¬
tate could now feel himself safe. Fanatical emissaries went abroad
in all directions, calling on the population to rise against the Farin-
gis; and in little more than a year from the annexation the terrible
revolt of the Bengal army broke out. In Oudh the whole popula¬
tion rose against the English as one man, and although Lakhnau
was stormed and taken for the third time on the 19th of March
1858, the whole country remained in arms against the English up
to the time at which this article concludes, in July of the same
year. (See North-Western Provinces.) (e. b. e.)
OUDINOT, Nicolas-Charles, Duke of Reggio and
Marshal of France, was the son of a merchant, and was born
in 1767. He was a soldier from his youth, and at the out¬
break of the Revolution he was appointed to the command of
abattalion. His skill and intrepidity speedily raised him in the
scale of promotion. A successful stand which he made at the
head of the regiment of Picardy against an overwhelming
force of Austrians, gained for him in 1794 the rank of general
of a brigade. His services under Moreau in Germany were
recognised by his being created a general of division in 1799.
Nor was his conduct less notable when, immediately after¬
wards, he was transferred to the army of Italy. Under
Massena he played an important part in the victory of Zu¬
rich ; in the famous defence of Genoa, under Brune, he
distinguished himself at the passage of the Mincio; and
his reward for these services was a sword of honour from
the First Consul. The next important achievements of Ou¬
dinot were performed under the direct command of Napo¬
leon himself. At the capture of Vienna he was the first
to lead his corps into the city; on the memorable day of
Friedland he elicited the commendation of Bonaparte him¬
self; and on the field of Wagram he won a marshal’s baton,
a pension, and the title of Duke of Reggio. 1 he warlike
renown of Oudinot had now reached its climax. Although
he conducted himself bravely in the campaigns of 1812,
1813, and 1814, his cause wanted that success which ren¬
ders great exploits recognisable. On the first abdication
of Napoleon he submitted to the Bouibons, and forsook
for ever the fortunes of his great leader. 1 he remaining
years of his life, though occupied with the discharge of se¬
veral high military offices, were spent in comparative inac¬
tion. His death took place in September 1847.
OUGHTRED, William, an eminent mathematician,
was born at Eton in 1573, and educated in the school there,
whence he was elected to King’s College, Cambridge, of
which he afterwards became fellow. Being admitted to
holy orders, he left the university about the year 1603, and
was presented to the rectory of Aldbury, near Guildford in
3 Vol. ii., p. 413.
6 Sleeman, vol. i., p. 162.
9 Sleeman, vol. ii., p- 180, note.
1 Mill, vol. ix., p. 209 ; and especially for some remarkable examples, Sleeman, vol. ii., p. 79.
3 Vol. ii., pp. 52, 76. 4 Sleeman, vol. i., p. 272. 6 Private Life of an Eastern King.
7 Ibid., p. 156, 8 Sleeman shows that he was legitimate, vol. ii., p. 181, &c.
24
0 U G
Ouse.
Ougiitsch Surrey ; and about tbe year 1628 he was appointed by the
Earl of Arundel to instruct bis son in the mathematics.
He kept a correspondence by letter with some of the most
eminent scholars of his time on mathematical subjects; and
his house was generally full of young gentlemen who came
from all parts to receive his instruction. It is said that,
upon hearing the news of the vote at Westminster for the
restoration of Charles the II., he expired in a sudden trans¬
port of joy, at the age of eighty-eight. He wrote Claris
Mathematica in 1631 ; a Description of the Double Hori¬
zontal Dial in 1633 ; and Opuscula Mathematica in 1676.
(See Biographia Britannica.)
OUGLITSCH, or Uglitsch, a town of European
Russia, government of Jaroslay, on both sides of the Volga,
63 miles W. of Jaroslav. The streets are narrow and irre¬
gular, and the houses ill-built. It has an ancient citadel,
and is partially fortified. The churches are numerous ; and
there are two convents. Weaving and paper-making are
the chief manufactures ; and some trade in corn and
Russian leather is carried on. Ougiitsch is an ancient
town, and was once a place of great importance ; but having
been taken and burnt by the Poles, it has never regained
its former prosperity. Pop. 7483.
OUNDLE, a market-town of England, county of North¬
ampton, stands on the slope of a hill, nearly surrounded by
the Nen, 24 miles N.E. of Northampton, and 78 N. by W.
of London. The three principal streets are straight, well-
paved, and lined with good stone houses. The town-hall
and the parish church are the chief buildings; the latter
being a large edifice in the early English style, with a hex¬
agonal spire 200 feet high. There are several other
churches, three schools, almshouses, and a savings-bank.
In the vicinity is the site of Fotheringhay Castle, of which
one large stone is all that remains. Pop. (1851) 2689.
OURG, or Oorga, a town of Mongolia, on the right
bank of the Tula, 165 miles S.S.E. of Kiachta, and 720
N. W. of Pekin. The houses are generally built of wood ;
and the streets are so narrow as hardly to allow two men
on horseback to pass. There are numerous temples, and
a college for priests, who form a great part of the inhabit¬
ants. Pop. estimated at 7000.
OURO PRETO, formerly called Villa Rica, a town of
Brazil, capital of the province of Minas Geraes, is built on a
tract of uneven ground in the midst of lofty and barren
mountains that abound in gold, 190 miles N.N.W. of Rio
de Janeiro. Although it looks well from a distance, the
streets are narrow, ill-paved, and irregular, and the houses
have no appearance of uniformity. Of its six churches,
one or two are fine buildings; the governor’s palace is a
large and well-built edifice of a square form; and theieaie
also a town-house, barracks, treasury, and theatre.
educational establishments consist of a college, school of
agriculture, and other schools; botanic garden, and public
library. The town has declined very much in consequence
of the gold mines becoming exhausted. These, however,
are still worked by English companies; and an active trade
is carried on with Rio de Janeiro. Pop. 10,000.
OUSE, a river of England, county of York, is formed
by the junction of the Swale and the Ure, which Rnite
near Borough Bridge. It flows through the great plain of
Yorkshire, at first S.E. as far as the town of York,^ which it
passes, and then pursues an irregular course S. and S.E., until
it joins with the Trent to form the estuary of the Humber,
by which it discharges its waters into the German Ocean.
It receives the Nidd, the Wharfe, and the Don, from the
left, and the Derwent from the right. Its whole length is
about 60 miles ; and it is navigable for large vessels up to
York, 45 miles from its mouth.
Ouse, Great, another river of England, rises near
Brackley, Northamptonshire, and flows in a very winding
course, dividing for a short distance the counties of Oxford
OVA
and Buckingham, and flowing in succession through Buck¬
ingham, Bedford, Huntingdon, Cambridge, and Norfolk,
until it falls into the Wash, after a course of 160 miles,
about two-thirds of which is navigable. It is the most
meandering of English rivers, and the one that traverses
the greatest extent of level country. The towns of Buck¬
ingham, Bedford, Huntingdon, and Ely, are on its banks.
Its principal tributaries are the Old Nen, Cam, Little Ouse,
Stoke, and Nar.
Ouse, Little, an affluent of the preceding river, rises
in Suffolk, and flows N.W. till it joins the Great Ouse on
the borders of Cambridge and Norfolk.
OUTLAW, is a term applied to one who flees from
justice, or who wilfully neglects or refuses to appear and
answer for a transgression in obedience to the process of a
competent court. The punishment consequent on such
contumacy is termed outlawry, and consists in an exclusion
from the benefits and protection of the law, thus disquali¬
fying the defendant from maintaining any action real or
personal. From the Conquest until nearly the reign of
Mary, an outlaw might be lawfully killed like a wild beast
by any one who met him. This was especially the case
if he resisted seizure ; “ but when once taken,” says Brac-
ton (iii. c. 14), “ his life and death were in the king’s hands ;
and if any man then killed him, he must answer for it, as in
the case of any other homicide.” Sufficient notice of the
process of the court, and satisfactory evidence of his
disobedience, is essential before a person can be out¬
lawed. As a security for making the defendant aware of
the process of court, three successive writs of capias are
issued against him, and failing his appearance, a writ of
exigent, requiring the sheriff to call him in five successive
courts, is then sued out; and if he does not render himself
up at the fifth call, judgment of outlawry is at once pro¬
nounced against him. At the same time that the exigent is
issued, moreover, it is provided, as an additional security, that
the sheriff shall make three proclamations of the defendant
in notorious places in the county of his residence a month
before the sentence of outlawry. In the case of contu¬
macy on prosecutions for civil actions and inferior crimes,
only one writ of capias is necessary before the exigent is
awarded. OutlawTy entails the forfeiture of the goods and
chattels of the outlaw. It was formerly necessary for the
outlaw to be restored to his law by the crown ; but in mo¬
dern times it is usual for the courts to reverse outlawries
upon motion.
OVADA, a town of the kingdom of Sardinia, division
of Alessandria, stands on the Orba, 9 miles S.W. of Acqui,
and 20 S. of Alessandria. For the most part it is well
built; and contains several churches, convents, schools, and
hospitals, and a theatre. One of the churches is a hand¬
some building. Manufactures of cloth, vermicelli, hard¬
ware, and silk, are carried on ; and there is some trade in
wine and silk. Pop. 6177.
OVAR, a town of Portugal, province of Beira, stands
near the mouth of p. river of the same name, 15 miles N.
of Aveiro, and 22 S. of Oporto. It is well built, but un¬
healthy ; and consists of one long street, well paved and
clean. There is a harbour and a mole. The inhabitants
are engaged in fishing, and carry on some trade. Pop.
10,500.
OVATION (ovatio) was a lesser triumph allowed to
Roman commanders for victories won without the effusion
of much blood, or for defeating a mean and inconsiderable
enemy. The show generally began at tbe Alban Moun¬
tain, whence the general with his retinue made his entry
into the city on foot, with many flutes or pipes sounding in
concert as he passed along, and wearing a garland of myr¬
tle as a token of peace. The term ovation, according to
Servius, is derived from ovis, a sheep, because on this oc¬
casion the conqueror sacrificed a sheep, as in a triumph he
Ouse.
II
Ovation
0 V E
Overall sacrificed a bull. Festus, however, derives it from ovo, “ I
|| exult,” “ I cry O !” while Dionysius maintains it to be a
Overbury, corruption of the Greek bacchanalian evoi. The senate,
^knights, and principal plebeians assisted at the procession,
which concluded at the Capitol, where rams were sacrificed
to Jupiter. The first ovation was granted to Publius Pos-
tumius Tubertus, for his victory over the Sabines in the
253d year of Rome. (Pliny, Hist. Nat. xv. 29.)
OVERALL, John, an English bishop of some celebrity
during his day, was born in 1559. He was elected a scholai
of St John’s College, Cambridge, but afterwards removed to
Trinity, of which he became a fellow. In 1596 he was
made regius professor of divinity,- when he took his degree^
of Doctor, and about the same time was elected master of
Catherine Hall. In 1601 he was promoted to the deanery
of St Paul’s, London, by the recommendation of his patron,
Sir Fulke Greville, and Queen Elizabeth ; and in the be¬
ginning of King James’s reign he was chosen prolocutor of
the lower House of Convocation. In 1612 he w as appointed
one of the first governors of the Charter-House Hospital,
then just founded by Mr Thomas Sutton. In April 1614
he was made bishop of Litchfield and Coventry ; and in
1618 he was translated to Norwich, where he died in May
1619, at the age of about sixty. He w'as buried in that
cathedral, wdiere he lay unnoticed and forgotten till some
years after the restoration of Charles II., when Cosin,
Bishop of Durham, who had been his secretary, erected a
monument, with a Latin inscription in which he is said to
be “ Vir undequaque doctissimus, et omni encomio major.”
Wood observes, that he had the character of being the
best scholastic divine in England ; and Cosin, who perhaps
may be thought to rival him in that sort of learning, calls
himself his scholar, and declares that he derived all his
knowledge from the good bishop. Overall cultivated a
particular friendship with Gerard Vossius and Grotius, and
some of his letters to those learned men are printed in the
Epistolce Prcestantium Virorum. The bishop is known in
England chiefly by his Convocation Book, 1606, Concern¬
ing the Government of God’s Catholic Church and the King¬
doms of the Whole World, 4to, London, 1690 ; reprinted at
Oxford in 1844; in which the author discusses the rights
of civil and ecclesiastical governors. This work was so¬
lemnly approved by the convocations of Canterbury and
York, and was afterwards published by Archbishop Bancroft,
but it led to a stir he did not contemplate. (See Macaulay’s
History of England, vol. iv.)
OVERBURY, Sir Thomas, an English courtier, fa¬
mous for his genius and the tragical history of his life, was
the son of Nicholas Overbury of Boorton-on-the-Hill in
Gloucestershire, and was bom in 1581 at Compton Scor-
fen, the Warwickshire seat of his maternal grandfather.
The early part of his career was one continued course of
success. Having enrolled as a gentleman commoner of
Queen’s College, Oxford^ he distinguished himself in phi¬
losophy and logic, took the degree of Bachelor-of-Arts in
1598, and came out into the world adorned with every scho¬
lar-like accomplishment. On his removal to London for
the purpose of studying law in the Middle Temple, he
found favour with the lord treasurer, Sir Robert Cecil,
and a prospect of court preferment seemed to be opening
up before him. The sudden disappointment of these hopes,
by driving him to travel, was only the means of securing
his ultimate success. He sojourned in different places both
at home and abroad, acquiring foreign languages, inspect¬
ing foreign governments, liberalizing his manners and
opinions, and marking those varied phases of life which he
afterwards described with such fidelity and wit in his book
of Characters. After his return to court, his polished
bearing, polite attainments, and large experience, recom¬
mended him to the friendship of Robert Carr, an acquaint¬
ance to whom he had been introduced shortly before in
VOL. XVII.
O Y E 25
Edinburgh, and who was now the rising favourite of James Overbury.
I. The travelled and accomplished scholar soon became
the bosom confidant and indispensable oracle of the illite¬
rate minion. He dictated his love epistles, supplied him
with opinions and plans of action, took charge of all his se¬
crets, and with absolute sway ruled the will that ruled the
king. The result was, that those who wished to honour
and propitiate the favourite, honoured and propitiated the
favourite’s master. James I. made him a knight in 1608;
the court poets, with Ben Jonson at their head, ascribed to
him every attainment and every virtue under heaven ;
statesmen craved his counsel ; and princes sought his so¬
ciety.
Sir Thomas Overbury had now climbed to the pinnacle
of power, and, like most other successful aspirants, he was
seized with a giddiness which suddenly brought him down
headlong. His imperious pride could not brook the thought
that any one should be a fellow sharer with him in the
affection of Carr, now Viscount Rochester. Therefore,
although his conscience had not prevented him from writing
the letters and sentimental ditties which had won for his
friend the unlawful love of the profligate Countess of Essex,
yet no sooner was it proposed to close this intrigue by mar¬
riage than he took the most decided measures of opposi¬
tion. He exhorted Carr, by all his hopes of continued
prosperity, not to take such a step ; he wrote the famous
poem called The Wife, for the express purpose of showing
him the contrast between a chaste and an immodest spouse ;
and in express terms he denounced the countess as “a
strumpet, and her mother and brother as bawds.” It was
this interference, and especially the epithets of infamy, that
determined his fate. The countess planned a scheme of
deadly vengeance j her infatuated lover Rochester, who
feared the divulging of the secrets intrusted to his confidant,
and her uncle the Earl of Northampton, who aspired to
step into the doomed courtier’s place, became her accom¬
plices ; and it is even said that the king, highly offended at
the arrogant bearing of his minion’s friend, was privy to
the plot. In April 1613, accordingly, Overbury was
offered a foreign ambassadorship; by the advice of Ro¬
chester he was induced to decline it; and on the 21st of
the same month he was apprehended on the charge of dis¬
obeying the king’s commands, and conveyed a close pri¬
soner to the Tower. The victim was now in the clutches
of his murderers, and was destined to expiate his offence
by a death of aggravated and protracted pain. He was
consigned to a dismal dungeon ; his condition was deceit¬
fully kept secret from his friends ; not even a priest was
allowed access to him ; and a ruffian named W eston, who
had been hired expressly on account of his knowledge of
drugs, was appointed to be sole attendant. 1 hen a process
of slow poisoning was commenced. 1 he daily food of the
unconscious prisoner was tainted with deadly powders;
the very water that he drank was poisoned, and inflamed
the ever-burning thirst it was intended to allay ; for three
months and six days his strong constitution continued to be
racked and wasted under the combined action of different
drugs; and on the 15th September 1613, when he had
become a mere skeleton, covered with a mass of sores,
a clyster put an end to his life. The murderers, although
successful at first in concealing their guilt, and although
favoured by certain unaccountable circumstances con¬
nected with the deed, were at length, after the lapse of two
years, overtaken by retribution. They were all tried and
condemned. The four under-assassins, including Weston,
suffered the penalty of the law ; and Carr and his wife, now
the Earl and Countess of Somerset, although pardoned by
the king, were afterwards punished, the former by the loss
of the royal favour, the latter by a most painful and loath¬
some death.
The tragical fate of Sir Thomas Overbury drew atten-
D
26 0 V E
Overflak* tion to his works, which were not published till after his
kee death. His poem of The Wife, though over-elaborated
II and stiff both in thought and in diction, passed through
Overyssel. sixteen editions before 1653, called forth numerous imita-
v “ tors, and is still valuable on account of its discriminating
knowledge of human life, and its profound and high-toned
moral sentiments. His other principal work, the Charac¬
ters, was also admired for the happy and ingenious conceits,
and the graphic delineations, which it occasionally displays
amid its crowd of over-strained witticisms and unnecessary
details. An incomplete edition of Overbury’s productions,
under the title of his Miscellaneous Works, was published
in London in 1632, and was frequently reprinted. The
latest and best edition is that published in the Library of
Old Authors, accompanied with a Life of Overbury by
Rimbault, London, 1856.
OVERFLAKKEE, an island of Holland, in the pro¬
vince of South Holland, formed by two branches of the
Meuse,—the Haringvliet on the N., and the Volkerak on the
—and is bounded on the W. by the North Sea. A part
of the island, called Goedereede, was formerly separated
from Overflakkee by a branch of the river, but this has
been dammed up, and the two islands united. 1 he soil is
fertile, producing wheat, barley, potatoes, &c. Length, 25
miles; greatest breadth, 7 miles. Pop. 17,000.
OVERTON, a parliamentary borough of N. Wales,
county of Flint, stands in the midst of beautiful scenery on
the left bank of the Dee, here crossed by a^ fine stone
bridge, 14 miles S. of Chester, and 21 S.S.E. of Flint.
It is a neat and generally well-built place ; and has a fine
old church, with some yews of great size and beauty in
the churchyard. The people live by agriculture, and no
manufacture or trade is carried on. Overton unites with
Flint and other boroughs in returning a member to Par¬
liament. Pop. (1851) 14/9.
OVERTURE (Fr. Ouverture), a piece of instrumental
music which precedes the opera, the pantomime, the
cantata, &c.; and named Sinfonia by the Italians, ihe
overture originated in France, and received a settled form
from Lulli in particular. The opera overture has now no
settled form, but is moulded according to the fancy of the
composer. In the latter part of the last century overtures
for concert-rooms and theatres were introduced. Among
the composers of these were Stamitz, Abel, Lord e y
(a Scotchman), Vanhall, Haydn, Pleyel. This kind of
overture was, in fact, the early form of the symphony after¬
wards developed by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.
Some writers think that the overture to an opera ought to
consist of a sort of analysis of the opera itself; but the
Spaniard Don Tomas de Yriarte, in his poem LaMusica,
very properly dissents from that opinion, and considers
opera overtures so constructed as
« Diligencia pueril que en vano ostentan;
Porque la imitacion no causa agrado, _ e c \
Si antes non se conoce lo imitado. ’ (Canto iv., § 6.)
(G. F. G.)
OVERYSSEL, a province of Holland, bounded on the
N. by those of Friesland and Drenthe, E. by Hanover and
Rhenish Prussia, S. by the province of Gelderland, and
W. by Gelderland and the Zuider Zee. Length, bom
N.W. to S.E., about 60 miles ; breadth, 27 miles; area,
1282 square miles. It is entirely low and flat, with few
hills and no mountains. The principal river is the Yssel,
which separates it from Gelderland, and falls into the Zuider
Zee below Kampen. The province is also watered by the
Vecht and its tributaries ; but none of these is of any im¬
portance. With the exception of a tract of rich clayey
soil along the Yssel, the surface consists of wet and marshy
ground, or of sandy and barren heaths. There are several
lakes, but not of any size. The climate is damp, and not
very salubrious. Wheat, barley, rye, buckwheat, pulse,
0 V I
potatoes, and fruits, are raised in the more fertile regions ; Ovid,
but the inhabitants depend for their subsistence mainly on
the rearing of cattle and digging of peat. I he pastures are
good, especially in the west; and horses, oxen, and sheep
are bred. Bees are likewise a source of much profit, and
fishing forms a lucrative employment. The chief manu¬
factures are linen, woollen, and cotton fabrics; calico, da¬
mask, paper, &c. Spinning, bleaching, dyeing, and boat¬
building are also carried on. The capital is Zwolle ; and
among the other towns the chief are Deventer and Kampen.
Pop. (1856) 233,723. (See Holland.)
OVIDIUS N ASO, Publius, in some respects the great¬
est poetical genius of Rome, was born at Sulmo, in the
country of the Peligni, on the 20th of March B.C. 43. In
that year Cicero was murdered, and on the very day of
the poet’s birth the consuls Hirtius and Pansa died in the
campaign of Mutina. His father, a member of an old
equestrian family, was only moderately wealthy. At an
early age the poet and his brother Lucius, who was exactly
a year older than he, were sent to Rome to be educated
for the bar. Though placed under the first teachers of
eloquence of that age, Arellius Fuscus and Portius Latro,
the poet never took kindly to the study of oratory. His
tendencies were all to literature, and especially to poetry.
His father, with whom poetry was only a synonyme for
poverty, warned him, but in vain, against his favouiite pur¬
suit. The death of his elder brother Lucius placed him
in circumstances of moderate affluence, and from that time
he was allowed to follow out his tastes pretty much as he
chose. After completing his education, and mastering
the Greek tongue at Athens, he travelled with the poet
Macer in Asia and Sicily. After spending nearly a year in
the latter country, he returned toRome. His delicate health
and indolent temper disqualified him for active life. It does
not appear that he ever practised at the bar. He sat for
a short time as a judge in the court of the 1 riumviri Capitales,
and afterwards of the Centumviri, besides acting occasionally
as a judge. His chief pleasure, however, was in the literary
society of the capital. Among his friends he counted such
men as Bassus, Ponticus, Propertius, and Macer. Virgil
he only saw once. Horace, who was twenty-two years his
senior, he often met. His intimacy with Tibullus was fast
ripening into friendship when that poet was prematurely
cut off. Unlike most of these literary friends, he owed
nothing to the favour of Maecenas. It is a significant fact
that the name of that patron of letters does not occur once
in all the poet’s works. Ovid was three times married.
His first wife proved unworthy of his choice, and was soon
put away. His second was in like manner speedily divorced,
though her chastity was, on the poet’s own admission, be¬
yond dispute. The real culprit in this case was the poet
himself. Falling in with the fashion of the day, a fashion
which accorded only too well with his inclinations, Ovid
devoted himself to his mistress Corinna, and probably to
other women. When about thirty years of age, he espoused
his third wife, a member of the Fabian family. With her
he lived happily till his exile, and by her he had his only
child, his daughter Perilla. This daughter was twice mar¬
ried, and had a child by each husband. Not long after
the birth of the first of these children, Ovid’s father died,
at the age of ninety. His mother survived her husband
only a few months. They had lived to witness their son s
rise and growing fame. They were spared the sight of his
fall and banishment.
Ovid’s life at Rome was on the whole a singularly for¬
tunate and happy one. He had competent means, a house
near the Capitol, a pleasant garden between the Flaminian
and Clodian ways, a farm of some value in the country of
the Peligni, access to the best literary society of Rome,
and the favour of Augustus himself. His growing fame
as a poet was justified by his three books of Amores, his
O V
Ovid. Epistolce Hero'idum, and his Ars Amatona. The last of
these works was published in b.c. 2, the year in which the
elder Julia was sent into exile by her father. He had
also completed, though he had not published, his Metamor¬
phoses and his Fasti. He had submitted these, the. most
valuable and important of his works, to his literary friend.',
and was engaged in giving them the finishing touches, when
he was overtaken by the great calamity ol his life. In the
year a.d. 8, he was banished from Rome. I he place of
his exile was Tomi, or, as he himself calls it, fomis, an old
Milesian colony on the shores of the Black Sea, near one
of the mouths of the Danube. His sentence was a simple
relegatio, and did not involve the loss of citizenship 01
the confiscation of his property. He has himself described
with the most touching pathos (T.rist. i. 3) the last night
he was allowed to spend in Rome, and the pangs with which
he tore himself for ever from his friends and family. The
voyage to Tomi occupied the greater part of a year, and
more than once the poet was in danger of his life from
shipwreck. When at last he reached his destination, it
almost seemed as if death would have been preferable.
Tomi could hardly be said to be within the pale of civiliza¬
tion. The inhabitants were barbarous and ignorant, the
soil barren, and the climate so cold that in winter even the
wine froze. Savage hordes of Getse from the northern
banks of the river sometimes attacked the place, and ren¬
dered life itself insecure. It is hardly to be wondered at
that in his petitions to be recalled, or at least transferred
to some less utterly miserable place of exile, the poet should
use the language of fulsome and even abject flattery to
Augustus. But the emperor was inexorable ; and neither
the poet’s own urgent prayers, nor the interest of his friends,
availed to procure any mitigation of his sentence. He was
left to drag out his remaining years, a prey to anxiety and
despair, perhaps also to remorse. With his new towns¬
men he ingratiated himself by learning their language, and
versifying their local legends and traditions, bo popular
did he make himself among them by these arts, that they
passed a decree exempting him from all taxes. W hile his
health allowed, he spent his time in putting the finishing
touches to his Fasti, and in writing those letters to his wife
and friends at Rome which we now possess in four books,
under the title of Letters from Pontus. To this period of
his life we also owe his Ibis, and the five books of the Tristia.
It is from this last-named work that the events of the poet’s
life are chiefly known. Ovid died at Tomi a.d. 18, in the
sixtieth year of his age and tenth of his exile.
Much has been written, and to little purpose, on the
cause or causes of Ovid’s banishment. The ostensible
ground was the immoral tendency of many of his writings,
especially his Ars Amatoria. But he confesses that this
was a mere pretext, and hints obscurely at some “ error”
as the real cause of his punishment. What this “error”
was, it is useless to conjecture; but we may conclude that
it partook of the nature of a grave moral offence, as, on the
poet’s own admission, it deserved a severer punishment than
even the very severe punishment it received. It was long
a favourite theory with some scholars that the crime in
question was an intrigue with the emperor’s daughter Julia,
the Corinna, as they maintain, of the Amores. A refuta¬
tion of this view, however, is contained in the fact, that
Julia was exiled ten years before her supposed paramour.
A more plausible theory is that which alleges an intrigue
between the poet and the younger Julia, the emperor’s
grand-daughter. It is a strong objection to this view that
Ovid was old enough to be the younger Julia’s father; but
it receives a curious confirmation from the circumstance
that they were both banished in the same year. The idea
that he fell under the displeasure of the imperial family for
his political views, is both at variance with his own state¬
ments, and is not sufficiently supported by historical evi-
[ D. 27
dence. The real cause was no doubt the “ error” to which Ovid,
he himself alludes. What that “ error” was, is, and is likely
ever to be, a mystery.
The longest and most ambitious of Ovid’s works is his
Metamorphoses, in fifteen books. It is the only one of all
his writings in which he does not use the elegiac metre.
The mythologies of Greece and Rome furnished Ovid with
the materials for this work, which comprises every, or nearly
every legend and tradition involving, as the name implies, a
transformation. The component parts are worked into a
harmonious whole with rare skill; while many of the episodes
are unrivalled in Latin literature for vigour of fancy, warmth
of colouring, and simplicity and variety of diction. Next in
importance to the Metamorphoses come the Fasti, in twelve
books, six of which only have survived. This work is a
kind of poetical Roman calendar, in which, beginning with
January, he describes the rites and festivals peculiar to
every day of every month, preserving every old story or
interesting legend attached to each. As much of this work
was drawn from the oral traditions current among the com¬
mon people, and from ancient chronicles extant in his day,
but long since lost, the Fasti form a valuable historical
monument. It is inferior in general effect to the Meta¬
morphoses, but is read with interest for the events it relates,
and with pleasure for the real poetry with which these are
set off. Of his minor works, the Amores and the Ars
Amandi are notable for the deep knowledge of human na¬
ture, and especially of the female heart, which they display.
The general tone of both is indefensibly immoral, and in
many passages they breathe a warmth and even grossness
of passion which nothing can excuse. The effect of such
writings could not but have been dangerous to the morals
of the people, and the danger is enhanced rather than di¬
minished by the transparent veil under which the author
affected to hide his voluptuous pictures. Even his Epistolce
Heroidum, a work still highly popular as a text-book for
schools, is far from being quite free of these vices. In
addition to the works already mentioned, Ovid wrote a tra¬
gedy entitled Medea, which is mentioned in terms of praise
by Tacitus and Quinctilian. It has long since perished.
The memoirs of Ovid are numerous. The most careful
and elaborate, though not the most correct, is that of Mas¬
son, originally published at Amsterdam in 1708, and fre¬
quently reprinted since that date. The most accurate and
reliable, besides the most interesting, is the Life of the
poet in Italian by Rosmini, Milan, 1821. Besides these
there are numerous shorter sketches, of which may be spe¬
cified the two old Latin biographies generally prefixed to
the larger editions of Ovid’s works, and those by Manutius,
Paulus Marsius, and others, which are given collectively
in Burman’s edition.
The editio princeps of Ovid appeared at Bologna in
1471, and at Rome in the same year. Ihe first Aldine
edition was published in 1502. 1 he Elzevir edition ol
Heinsius appeared at Leyden in 1629; and that In usum
Delphini at Lyon in 1689. The best is that of Burman
(see Burman, Peter), Amsterdam, 1727, which has not
been superseded by the later French edition of J. A. Amar
in Le Maire’s Bibliotheca Latina, or by the German one
of J. C. Jahn, Leipsic, 1828. The editions of the separate
works are numerous, and some of them excellent. The
translations of Ovid into the languages of modern Europe
are very numerous. Of these we can only indicate here
a few of the best that have appeared in English. The
most admired is “ Ovid’s Metamorphoses, in fifteen books,
translated by the most eminent hands,” London, 1717.
The “eminent hands” in question were Dryden, Addison,
Congreve, Rowe, Gay, Phillips, Croxall, Sewell, and,
Garth ; the last of whom wrote the preface and saw the work
through the press. This version has been frequently re¬
printed. The earliest English verse translation of the Meta-
28 O Y I
Oviedo, morphosesis that of Arthur Golding, London, 1567. The
first five books of the same work were “ Englished in verse,
mythologized, and represented in figures” by G. Sandys,
Oxford, 1626. A blank-verse translation of the whole
poem was published by Howard in London, 1807. The
Epistles were rendered into English verse by several hands,
—viz., Dryden, Otway, Settle, and others. This transla¬
tion, which has been several times reprinted, appeared
first in London in 1680, with a preface by Dryden. Of
the literal prose translations may be mentioned that by
Clarke, London, 1735; another which appeared in 1748;
and that by H. T. Riley, published in 1851-2, forming 3
vols. of Bohn’s Classical Library.
Ovid has always been highly popular in France; and
the French translations of his various works are very nu¬
merous. A very complete list of these is appended to
the article on Ovid in the Biographie Universelle, by M.
Villenave. (j. C—r..)
OVIEDO, a province at the northern extremity of Spain,
constituting the greater part of the principality of the
Asturias, lying between 42. 57. and 43. 38. N. Lat.,
4. 35. and 7. 4. W. Long. Its natural limits are so marked
as not to have been much disturbed in the various govern¬
mental divisions; and its actual boundaries are,—N., Bay of
Biscay; E., the province of Santander; S., Leon; W.,
Lugo. It is separated from Santander by the River Deva,
and from Lugo by the River Eo. Its greatest length, from
E. to W., is 147 miles ; breadth, from N. to S., about 53;
and its area, 3674 square miles. It has a coast-line of about
148 miles, from Rivadeo on the W., to Santiuste on the E.,
of extremely irregular outline, bristling with headlands, of
which the most prominent are the Cabo de Penas, de Torres,
and San Lorenzo, and indented with creeks and estuaries,
into which numerous streams descend, which being of little
volume, and encountering a stormy sea, deposit dangerous
bars. The chief of these estuaries are those of Navia,
Pravia, Aviles, and Villaviciosa. Little has been done to
improve the naturally bad harbours, of which the principal
are those of Gijon, stretching 2 miles inland, from between
Capes Torres and San Lorenzo ; Ribadesella, with 10 feet
of water on its bar; and Lastres. Jovellanos projected a
harbour in the Bay of El Musel, near Gijon, protected
by Cape Torres. There is no bar; the bottom is firm and
level; and the execution of this project is most important
for the development of the province. The surface of the
country is extremely broken by two chains of mountains
and their offshoots. A branch of the Pyrenees, formerly
known as the Hervaseos, extending in an unbroken line
parallel to the coast from Leitariegos to Penamellera, forms
the south rampart of the province, and sends off innumerable
cordales, which form, at their junction with the main cor¬
dillera, deep and precipitous valleys, but broaden and
diminish as they proceed, cultivated in terraces, or covered
with oak and chestnut forest. The main chain is very
lofty, rising in some parts to more than 10,000 feet, and
presents a series of conical summits, covered with snow
some months in the year, and generally loaded with the
masses of vapour from the Atlantic which they arrest.
Another chain of less elevation stretches from Pravia on
the W., to Penamellera on the E., where it joins the
former; and the comparatively broad spaces between the
cordales and the south declivities of this “ cordillera of the
coast” are the most fertile and delicious valleys of the
Asturias,—traversed by numberless streams, covered with
verdure, and very populous. Next the coast is an isolated
group of mountains, from Buron westward, where offshoots
descend into the sea. The principal rivers are the Nalon,
Narcea, Navia, Pilona, Sella, and Eo. Nalon, which is the
largest, rises in the pass of Tarna, flows N.W. 62 miles,
and falls into the Bay of Biscay at Mures. Especially after
its iunction with the Narcea in Ambas Mestas, its waters
0 V I
abound with fish, salmon, lampreys, trout, and mullet; at Ovieao.
its mouth are valuable salmon-fisheries. Narcea, also a
good fishing stream, and for most of its course rapid, rises
on the borders of Leon, receives the Nioron and the Pi-
guena, and joins the Nalon on its right at Pravia, after a
course of 54 miles. The Navia rises in Lugo, and flows
N.N.E. about 90 miles to the sea at Navia. The Pilona
or Infiesto, from Penamayor, joins the Sella at Las Avnon-
das, and falls into the sea at Ribadesella. The Eo, rising
in Lugo, has a N.E. course of about 50 miles, and joins
the sea at Rivadeo, in a beautiful bay famed for its salmon
and its oysters. Communication with Galicia and Castile
is possible only by the eighteen or twenty difficult passes
of the south cordillera. The Camino Real along the coast
from Santander to Ferrol is also extremely bad, broken, and
impassable in winter, being almost quite unprovided with
bridges; and the roads in the interior, with few exceptions,
are proportionally wretched, seldom pretending to be
anything more than rough bridle-paths.
In regard to geological structure, the province may be
divided into three districts. Of the west part, between the
rivers Eo, Navia, and Narcea, the base is transition or
Cambrian rocks. The principal rocks are slate, trap, and
quartz ; among which are some thin beds of limestone
which bear traces of very ancient exploration, and various
groups of igneous formation—more frequently veins of oxide
and carbonate of iron, and magnetic pyrites, to which class of
Cambrian belongs also the Cabo de Penas. The eastern
part of the province, with the chain of hills from Leitariegos
to Penamellera, and its cordales, is of Silurian formation,
limestone predominating, with occurrence of slate and
quartzy rocks, over which the soil is thin and poor. This
part presents the strikingly picturesque scenery peculiar to
its formation, among the aspects of which may be mentioned
the singular gulfs or subterranean passages of the mountain
streams, and many caves of great extent, as that of Sequeros
in the concejo of Tineo, adorned with beautiful stalactites.
Among the valuable mineral products of this tract are build¬
ing-stones, marbles, lithographic stones, and coloured marls ;
with veins of copper, cobalt, iron, calamine, antimony, argen¬
tiferous galena, and coal of an inferior quality. The centre
of the province is carboniferous, abounding with organic
remains; and its mineral products are coal, gypsum, salt
from various springs, as of Sariego Muerto, and Sariego de
Siero. There are extensive chalk deposits in the coasts of
Gijon, Villaviciosa, and Colunga, and in the central con-
cejos of Llanera, Siero, &c. Deposits of turf in Cudillero,
Artedo, and other points, supply their population with
fue^
Agriculture is very backward, although, in spite of the
unequal surface, the humidity, and the much ground occu¬
pied with sterile rock and sand, this province enjoys a cli¬
mate and soil of rare excellence, as is proved by the variety
and abundance of its products even in its neglected state.
Wheat is not much grown, and the little is partly exported.
An early indigenous variety, called escanda, is used. The
staff of life is maize, made into a kind of bread called
borona. Beans, pease, and potatoes are grown everywhere.
Great quantities of rye and hay are grown in the poorer
tracts. The fruits and legumes are excellent, especially
the stone fruit of Candamo and the limestone tracts. From
Llanes to Aviles, in the coast concejos, and in many dis¬
tricts of the interior, large quantities of apples are grown,
from which cider is made,—the favourite beverage of the
province. It is also exported to the neighbouring pro¬
vinces and to Spanish America. The oak and chestnut
forests supply bark for tanning, charcoal for the iron-works,
and wood for construction. The hazel grows wild plenti¬
fully along the streams, and the nuts are exported to Eng¬
land from Gijon and Villaviciosa. In the small towns the
cherry, fig, plum, pear, walnut, and chestnut are abundant.
O V I I
Oviedo. A loner the whole coast the orange and lemon were grown
when there was an export trade; their occurrence is now
limited to the part between Llanes and Ribadesella. 1 le
growth of wine, general in the Asturias before the sixteenth
century, is now confined to Candamo, Girado, I ineo, and
some of the western districts. Among useful but less cai ed-
for products, are the bilberry (used in dyeing leather), mad¬
der, kermes, hop, and saffron. In the large natural pastures
are reared, by a system of migration, great quantities of
horned cattle, sheep, and goats. The refuse of maize and
acorns support many swine. The horses are small, but
strong, sure, and active. The excessive division of property,
and ignorance of good methods, combine to injure greatly
the agricultural prosperity of the province ; and though the
cultivation, such as it is, has continued to push its way and
reclaim useless ground, this has not always been done with
prudence, and the effect has been in many cases, by
loosening the exposed and precarious soil, to convert good
though rough pasture into utter rock and barrenness. The
wolf^fox, and hare are frequent; but the larger game—the
bear, wild boar, deer, and mountain goat have disappeared,
and are only to be met with in the wildest parts of the S.
cordillera. Partridges, quails, woodcocks, &c., are frequent.
The mineral industry of the province is the most im¬
portant, but more so in prospect than in reality. Jovellanos
was the first to direct public attention to the extent and
value of the coal deposits, and much has been done since his
time, though the want of native enterprise, of good har¬
bours and roads, and the supineness of government, have
been heavy drawbacks. Coal in great abundance and good
quality is found chiefly at Langreo, Tudela, Santofirme,
Mieres, Ferrones, Lieres, Nava, and Torazo. I he quan¬
tity extracted at Langreo in 1847 amounted to 5000 cwts.
daily. At S. Maria del Mar, in Aviles, where are galleries
under the sea-bottom, it is not so good. The whole
amount extracted in 1847 was 473,000 cwts. Other
minerals have been already indicated. Iron is found in
many places, but is not worked to any extent, except in
Castropol. Langreo, which, with iron, has all the neces¬
sary adjuncts of coal, water-power, and tolerable roads, is
not taken advantage of. Copper is found at Po de Cabrales,
Caldueno de Llanes, &c.; cinnabar to some extent at
Mieres. The cobalt of Penamellera, and the argentiferous
lead of San Estevan de Leces, near Ribadesella, have been
abandoned. The ancient tin mines at Salave are deserted.
The principal manufactures are,—utensils of copper at
Aviles ; nails and iron instruments at Boal, La Vegina, Co-
ana, Navia, Castropol, &c.; linens and damasks in Aviles (a
house manufacture of coarse linens and quilts is carried on
in all the rural districts); pottery at Ceceda, Faro, and
Aviles ; common delft at La Pola de Siero. In Oviedo and
Gijon a good deal of beautiful cabinet-work is made with
the walnut, cherry, yew, and other native woods. Fish are
cured for export at Cudillero, Luanco, Candas, and Lastres.
Lard is made at Salas, Pilona, &c.; cheese at Cabrales.
The commerce of the province has been sufficiently indi¬
cated. For internal trade there are fairs at Oviedo on
Assumption Day, All Saints’, and St Matthew’s ; at Gijon
on St Ferdinand’s and St Michael’s ; at Aviles on St Au¬
gustin’s ; at Villaviciosa on St John’s; but they are much
decayed.
The Asturian is strong, enduring, and laborious, of sim¬
ple and primitive habits, and proverbial thrift. Many mi¬
grate yearly to the various provinces of Spain, particularly
the wine-growing, where they become domestic servants,
or engage in shop-keeping, &c., and having acquired a
competence, return to their native hills. The dialect, called
bable, is nearly identical with the ancient Castilian. Jovel-
lanos endeavoured to enrich the literary language with an¬
cient words, which it alone preserves, and to illustrate by
it the progress of the national tongue and the changes of
! D O. 29
national manners. In this secluded region, among this Oviedo,
hardy stock, an infinite number of primitive usages are pre-
served in weddings, games, funerals, and church ceremonies,
of whose antiquity documentary evidence exists in the
charters and municipal laws granted by the native princes,
from Alonso VI. downwards. For a similar reason, the
church architecture of the Asturias—the most ancient in
Spain, perhaps in Europe—is interesting, giving a period of
transition from the Roman to the later pointed Gothic or
Tedesco. It has many points of resemblance with the early
Saxon. Good specimens are the S. Maria de Naranco, the
S. Miguel de Lino, and the S. Julian, at Oviedo.
The province of Oviedo {Asturia Transmontand) was first
properly subdued by Publius Carisius under Augustus. The
names of several towns, various inscriptions, and vestiges of
mines, attest the Roman dominion. It was the last province
in Spain to submit to the Goths. In the eighth century
Pelayo took refuge there after the fatal battle of the Guada-
lete, and the Asturians maintained their independence under v
his descendants throughout the Moorish period. The Astu¬
rias was made a principality in 1388, and the title conferred
by Don Juan I. on his son Enrique, in imitation of the title of
Prince of Wales, when Enrique married Catharine, daugh¬
ter of the Duke of Lancaster. Oviedo suffered much in
the war of independence—the capital being twice plun¬
dered, once by Ney in May 1809, and afterwards by Bonnet.
The Asturians are considered by Spanish writers to have
done miracles in that war; but the only important step
they took was to send the Conde de Toreno for assistance
and money to London. There is a kind ot Boeotian stigma
on the Asturias ; but they have produced many eminent
men, of whom it will be sufficient to mention the name of
Jovellanos, poet and patriot, worthy of a more grateful
country. The province is divided into 15 partidos; and in
1849 had a population of 450,610.
Oviedo, chief town of the preceding, is situated about
14 miles S. of Gijon and the coast, on a slope. About a
mile to the N.W. is the Sierra de Naranco, 1070 feet above
the sea, by which the town is protected from the N. winds,
though the vapours collected by it in the spring and autumn
render the climate extremely humid, and do not conduce to
its salubrity. Most part of the town was burned in 1521,
and the reconstruction, till within some years, has been ir¬
regular. The four main streets are formed by the roads
connecting Gijon and Leon, N. and S., and Santander and
Grado, E. and W., which cross each other in a central
plaza. The streets are clean and well-lighted; the houses
are built with projecting roofs. In the central plaza are the
Casas Consistoriales, with a piazza,—the finest, it is said,
in Spain. There are two prisons: one known as the Real
Castillo—the fortress, with some changes, built by Alonso
III., a.d. 913, on the west in an angle of the walls. It was
partly destroyed with gunpowder by General Bonnet in
1818. The other is called the Carcel Galera. There is a
theatre, capable of containing i 00 spectators. I he uni¬
versity, founded by Philip III. in 1604, after the project ot
Valdes, Archbishop of Seville, is a square building, 180 feet
every way ; the N. gate has two lofty Doric pillars on each
side ; the E. gate is more handsome. These entrances open
on a central court with pillared galleries. The university has
a library, founded in 1764, of 12,000 volumes; a museum
of natural science, particularly mechanics and chemistry;
and various theological and philosophical chairs. There is
a normal school, three other public schools, and 17 private.
The poor-house (Hospicio Provincial) is a large and hand¬
some edifice, of date 1752. In 1837 the three hospitals of
the town were consolidated into a general hospital in the
ex-convent of San Francisco. The present cathedral was
commenced in the fourteenth century, the previous church,
erected in the ninth century, being taken down, and nothing
is now left of it save the Camara Santa. The west front
30
0 V I
OWE
Owen.
Oviedo y has a fine portico of ornamented arches, with two lateral
Valdez towers, of which the completed one rises 200 feet; the un¬
completed tower was surmounted in 1575 with a pyramidal
top. Of the lateral chapels, the most remarkable are the
Cap ill a del Key Casto (Alonso II.), where are the remains
of many successive princes ot the House of Pelayo,
and the Camara Santa, containing in an area the relics
saved by Don Pelayo when he fled to the Asturias. Be¬
sides the cathedral, there are four parish churches and six
convents in Oviedo. The churches remarkable for their
early architectural style have been already mentioned.
Outside the town, on the Gijon road, is a black marble
monument to Jovellanos, re-erected in 1835. I he indus¬
try of the town, and productions of the neighbouring country,
have been indicated in the preceding article. Pop. (1847)
9384.
OVIEDO Y VALDEZ, Gonzalo Fernandez de, an
early historian of the New World, was born at Madrid,of noble
descent, in 1478. He was attached in his boyish years to
the court of Ferdinand and Isabella as one ot the pa.gts
of Prince John, where he received an excellent education.
The discoveries of Columbus had just opened up the New
World to Spanish enterprise; and in 1513 Oviedo was
sent out to San Domingo as a supervisor ot gold smeltings,
where, except occasional visits to Spain and Spanish Ame-
rica, he remained during the rest of his life. In this posi¬
tion he is said to have treated the natives of the island with
great cruelty, so that their gentle and feeble race rapi( y
melted away under the harsh servitude of the gold mines.
In addition to his original appointment, Oviedo held several
important offices under the Spanish government in Hayti.
He had always exhibited a passion for writing ; and the post
of historiographer of the Indies to Charles V. was quite to
his likino-. Besides some inconsiderable chronicles oi t er-
dinand and Isabella, and of Charles V., and a Life of Cai dina
Ximenes, he wrote two works of abiding interest and value :
one was La General y Natural Historia de las Indias
Occidentales, consisting of fifty books, of which twenty-one
w ere published at Seville in 1535, while the rest remain
still in manuscript. Several editions of this History have
been published, of which the latest is that begun in 1 Sol
by the Beal Academia de la Historia, Madrid. It was
translated into French by Poleur in 1556, and into Englisn
by Eden in 1555. This work contains a great mass ot
valuable information, thrown together in a crude, indigested
state, and written in a loose, rambling, moralizing sty e,
sadly provoking to the reader’s patience. It is worthy ot
notice also, that his contemporary, the brave and philan¬
thropic Las Casas, the defender of the American Indians, a
man who had ample means of knowing about the attairs ot
the New World, denounces the History of Oviedo as as
full of lies almost as pages.” The benevolent churchman
and the courtly historian had separate interests, however,
which kept up a constant hostility between them. Las
Casas was doubtless much the nobler man of the two, but
Oviedo was not therefore necessarily a wholesale fabricator.
The other work for which Oviedo is still esteemed among
scholars is Las Quinquagenas, written during the latter
years of the author’s life, and devoted to fond recollections
of his native land, and of the principal characters who had
figured there during his time. It consists of a series o
immethodical dialogues, full of gossip and curious anecdote,
drawn from the memory of a long life. It occupies three
folios of MS. in the National Library of Madrid, but has
never been printed. The author concludes by saying that
it was finished on the 23d May 1556, when he was seventy-
nine years old. He died at Valladolid during the following
year. (See Ticknor’s Hist, of Spanish literature, vol. i.,
p. 514 ; and Prescott’s Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. i., p.
187-)
O WEN, John, the eminent Puritan divine, was the son
of Henry Owen, vicar of Stadham in Oxfordshire, where
he was born some time in the year 1616. His biographers
have traced his lineage backward to one of the five regal
tribes in Wales ; but we shall not here attempt to untwist
the tangled knot of Welsh genealogies. He received his
earlier education in the private academy of Edwaid Sylves¬
ter at Oxford, where the immortal Chilhngworth had also
been a pupil; and at the strangely precocious age of twelve
entered as a student at Queen’s College, having for h,s tutor
Thomas Barlow, who was even then distinguished, and who
subsequently rose to the see of Lincoln. He pursued h.s
studies with an excess of application which would have de¬
stroyed most constitutions, and which left some seeds of
future suffering even in his iron frame ; for he allowed
himself during many years only four hours for sleep, though
the evils of this course were so far counteracted by his in¬
dulging in some of the most robust amusements of his
college, and by the daily practice of music, in which he re¬
ceived lessons from Dr Thomas Wilson, the preceptor in
the same delightful art of Charles I. Many years before
the completion of his studies, Laud had been raised to the
chancellorship of Oxford, and had begun to impose upon
the students many of those rites and ceremonials which the
Reformers had most severely condemned, the penalty of
resistance to his demands being nothing less than expulsion
from the university. All the worldly interests of Owen
pointed to compliance with the innovations of this bigoted
ecclesiastic ; but convinced that very much ot what Laud
imposed was in itself wrong, and that what was in itself in¬
different ought not to be complied with when sought to be
bound upon the conscience as of Divine authority, and thus
finding his way to the true standing-ground of the Puritans,
he refused subjection to the innovations ; and at the early
age of twenty-one left Oxford, self-exiled for conscience
sake. He found a home as chaplain and tutor, first in the
family of Sir Robert Dormer, and subsequently in that of
Lord Lovelace in Berkshire ; but meanwhile the unconsti¬
tutional measures of Charles had driven the Pailiament to
arms, and placed the country in a state in which it vias im¬
possible for any honest man to remain neutral. It found
the nobleman and his tutor on opposite sides; the former
taking part with Charles and royal prerogative, the latter
with "the Parliament and popular rights. The loss of an
honourable and lucrative post was not the only sacrifice
which Owen had now to make at the call of duty; for
about the same time he was disinherited, because of his
opinions, of large estates, by a royalist uncle in Wales.
Dispirited by these losses, he came to London, where sor¬
rows of a deeper source, and having their origin in religious
anxieties, greatly aggravated his sadness. Under the bur¬
den of these heavier griefs, he is described by his biographers
as going on a certain Sabbath to hear the famous Presby¬
terian minister, Edmund Calamy, preach, when a rustic
preacher, whose name he could never afterwards discovei,
to his great disappointment, entered the pulpit, and so met
his difficulties in his discourse as to introduce him into a
state of settled mental peace.
In 1642, Owen gave to the world his first literary pro¬
duction, The Display of Arminianism, which was intended
to stem the current of theology that had become fashionable
under the influence of Laud, and which, like all his other
great compositions, holds its place, after the lapse of two
centuries, as a standard work on the subject on which it
treats. One incidental effect of its publication was to at¬
tract towards him the favourable notice of the committee
for purging the church of scandalous ministers, who, in con¬
sequence, invited him to accept the pastorate of Fordham, a
village overhanging the pleasant valley of the Stour between
Suffolk and Essex. Not long after, he was transferred to
the pastoral care of Coggeshall, an important market-town
in Essex, where he soon found himself surrounded by a
Owen.
o w
Owen, congregation of 2000 people, numbers of whom were at-
tracted by his weighty words from the neighbouring parishes;
and while in this place he adopted views on the subject of
church government which approximated to, though they
never became identical with, the modern Congregational
platform. From the same place emanated one of his
greatest works, on which he owns himself to have expended
much of the thought and toil of seven years, r/ie JJeath of
Death in the Death of Christ. During O wen’s incumbency
in this town, the neighbouring town of Colchester was be¬
sieged by the parliamentary army under General Fairfax ;
and Coggeshall having been the head-quarters of the
general during the ten weeks of the siege, a friendship was
formed between him and Owen which proved one of the
links in the chain that drew him forth soon after into public
life. His solid and enlarging reputation had already led to
his preaching before Parliament; but at length he was un¬
expectedly summoned to preach on the day after the exe¬
cution of Charles ; and the manner in which he performed
this task has been regarded by many as presenting one of
the most vulnerable points in his public life. It is remark¬
able that throughout the entire sermon no reference is made
to the awful tragedy of which he must have been aware that
every mind was full; and this has been denounced as selfish
and cowardly temporizing, and a forgetting of the fearless
fidelity that became his position. But what evidence is
there that he condemned the act of which it is well known
that Milton and many others approved ? And if he even
hesitated in his judgment regarding it, then the silence
which he adopted was his wisest and most honest expedient.
The Discourse on Toleration, which he appended to this
sermon when published, and which he dedicated to Parlia¬
ment, occupied the same ground as the treatise of Locke
on the same subject,—viz., that “ errors in religion are not
punishable by the civil magistrate, with the exception of
such as in their own nature disturb the order of society ”—
did much to confirm the opinions of the religious party of
which he was the head, as well as to shape the sentiments
of the political leaders and patriots of the age. Cromwell
had not yet chanced to meet with the pastor of Coggeshall;
but on an early occasion, when he was once more appointed
to preach before Parliament, the Lord-General and the
chiefs of the army were present; and on the following day,
happening to meet in the garden of Fairfax, proposals were
made by Cromwell to Owen to accompany him on his con¬
templated expedition to Ireland, both as chaplain and in
order to investigate and amend the affairs of the University
of Dublin. It was with little grace that Owen yielded to
the wishes of Cromwell, whose proposals were gradually
assuming more of the shape and tone of commands ; and
with less grace still did his flock consent even to a temporary
separation. But the issue deserved the sacrifice. For the
effect of Owen’s visit was to awaken a deeper interest in
the religious condition of Ireland, to reform the rampant
abuses of the university of Dublin, and to obtain for Trinity
College valuable immunities, which it still enjoys. He had
scarcely been welcomed back from Ireland to Coggeshall,
when a command of Parliament ordered him, along with
Joseph Caryl, to accompany Cromwell, in the cause of the
Commonwealth, to Scotland, and cast him a second time
amid the uncongenial din of sieges and of battlefields. It
has been surmised that Cromwell desired his help in his an¬
ticipated discussions with the Scottish ministers ; and some
have even affirmed that his hand can be distinctly traced in
the letters which Cromwell addressed to the ministers who
had taken refuge in the castle of Edinburgh, which cer¬
tainly abound in “ lumbering sentences with noble mean¬
ings.” Owen was allowed to return to Coggeshall many
months before Cromwell received his “ crowning mercy” at
\\ orcester, but it was only to find himself soon after severed
from its seclusion and quiet activities for ever ; for on the
E N. SI
18th of March 1651, “ the House, taking into consideration Owen,
the worth and usefulness of John Owen, M.A., of Queen’s
College, ordered that he be settled in the deanery of Christ
Church, in the room of Dr Reynolds and on the 9th of
September of the following year, letters from Cromwell no¬
minated him vice-chancellor of the university; and thus he
entered the gates of Oxford to become the head of that
great and ancient seat of learning, from which, ten years
before, he had consented to be exiled for conscience sake.
The elevation of Owen to the vice-chancellorship gave
him the virtual command of the university; and a mind of
no common energy and wisdom was needed to restore it
from the ruined state into which the civil wars had plunged
it. Casting itself with something more even than common
chivalry into the cause of the royalists, it had not only
drained its treasury and melted its plate, but incurred an
overwhelming debt; halls and colleges, empty of students,
had been transformed into barracks and powder-magazines ;
while many of the students who had become soldiers, re¬
turning again to their books, brought back with them the
insubordination and the profligacy which they had learned
in the camp and the field. We do not wonder that the
hand of Owen trembled as he seized the helm of Oxford
at such a period. But his administration was firm, liberal,
and conciliatory. While profligate students were treated
with a rigour which led him in some instances even to in¬
terfere with his own hand, and cast them into “ Bocardo,”
the studious were encouraged, and poor students of merit
admitted to free commons. While the law furnished him
with ample power for disturbing the worship of Episco¬
palians, it was allowed to proceed in peace over against his
own door ; the jealousy of the Presbyterians was disarmed
by his placing some of their most eminent and qualified
men in offices of high honour and emolument; the religious
condition of the students was sought to be improved by the
regular ministrations of himself and Dr Goodwin in St
Marv’s church ; and so great was the change wrought in a
few years in the general condition of Oxford as to evoke
at length the reluctant praise of Clarendon.
But even the government of a university, and the raising
of its affairs from the brink of ruin, were not sufficient to ex¬
haust the resources of Owen’s mind at this period. Several
of his greatest theological treatises, such as his Diatriha de
Divina Justitia; his work on the Perseverance of the
Saints, which extends over more than five hundred folio
pages ; his Vindicice Evangelicce, of almost equal colossal
bulk ; and his practical treatise on the Mortification of Sin in
Believers,—which might have been sufficient of themselves
to absorb and to recompense the energies of a lifetime, bear
date during the period of his vice-chancellorship. And
during the same engrossing period he was consulted and
employed by Cromwell on almost every measure which
contained in it an ecclesiastical element, and had for its
avowed object the promotion of religion in England. We
find him, under the immediate auspices of the Protector,
engaged with divines of other sects in devising measures of
ecclesiastical union and comprehension ; holding a promi¬
nent place in the famous “ Committee of Triers,” for eject¬
ing ministers and schoolmasters of heretical doctrines or
scandalous lives, and giving liberal advice, in the face of
some fanatical and violent opponents, on the admission of
Jews to settle and trade in England. On one part of his
conduct alone at this period has he been severely blamed
by his enemies, while even his friends have in general only
ventured on a timid and hesitating defence. We refer to
his allowing himself to be returned as representative for the
university of'Oxford to the Parliament which was summoned
by Cromwell to meet in 1654, and to his taking his seat in the
face of the representations that he was disqualified as a
clergyman. His zeal for the endangered interests of his
university was no doubt the motive which prompted him
32
OWEN.
Owen.
to assert this doubtful position ; but when he found the
validity of his election so vehemently and plausibly ques¬
tioned, he would have consulted his dignity more had he
declined to sit. His patriotism shone out with true lustre
not long after, when, on the proposal of a majority of Par¬
liament to bestow upon Cromwell the crown and title of
King, he joined with Fleetwood and the majority of the
army in opposing the movement, and even drew up the
petition which is known to have defeated the measure, and
to have constrained Cromwell to decline the perilous honour.
This bold step, which made the Commonwealth his debtor,
so far estranged from him the affection of Cromwell, and
cost him his vice-chancellorship. He resigned the presi¬
dency of Oxford, and yielded up the academic fasces into
the hands of Dr Conant, his Presbyterian successor, with
dignity. Referring to the number of persons that had been
matriculated and graduated during his administration, to
the professors’ salaries that had been recovered, to his suc¬
cessful defence of the rights and privileges of the univer¬
sity, to the visible reformation of manners among its students,
and to the fact that he left its treasury increased tenfold,
“ I seek again,” said he, “ my old labours, my usual watch¬
ings, my interrupted studies.”
The next public movement of importance in which we
discover the presence of Dr Owen, who had been diplo-
mated some time before his administration at Oxford ceased,
is in the conferences of the Savoy Assembly or Synod, in
which a “ Confession” expressive of the faith of the Inde¬
pendents was framed, after the manner of that which had
already been drawn up by the divines at Westminster, and
in which he took the leading part. Except in its sections
on church order, it very closely resembled, not only in
sentiment, but in phraseology, the1 earlier compend, and
served at the time of its compilation both to unite the party
of the Independents in closer confidence among themselves,
and to distinguish them from violent and fanatical sectaiies
who sought to obtain sanction for their extravagances under
a respected name. But before the Savoy conferences were
ended, the great spirit of Cromwell had left the world ; and
his death had taken from the Puritans the best security for
their precarious liberty. It is the work of general history
to describe the resignation and retirement of Richard
Cromwell, the mysterious secrecy and duplicity of Monk,
and the return of Charles to the throne of his ancestors,
without any pledge being obtained for the rights of con¬
science and" for liberty of worship beyond the promise that
“ he would have respect to tender consciences -a pledge
which was intended to be kept only so long as it was unsafe
to violate it. The act which restored the king restored the
laws, both civil and ecclesiastical, to the state in which they
had been at the commencement of the war ; re-established
the hierarchy ; and constituted all classes of Nonconfoi mists
a proscribed class. The years which followed accordingly
exhibit the gradual diminution of the liberties of the Puri¬
tans, and their subjection to a succession of acts winch
left them the alternatives of silence, or conformity, or suirer-
ing. Owen, by this time severed also from the deanery
of Christ Church, became the pastor of a little flock in his
native village of Stadham, hoping in that obscurity to escape
notice without being forced to silence. Informers, however,
armed with powers supplied by the Conventicle and Five
Mile Acts, as well as by the Act of Uniformity, and
prompted by bribes,' drove him even from this narrow
sphere, rendering it only safe for him to whisper truth in
upper chambers, or in midnight assemblies. The breathing
times from persecution which were afforded by the plague
and by the great fire in London were eagerly improved
by Owen and the other Puritan preachers, who reared vast
wooden structures, called tabernacles, in which their long
silent voices were once more heard by wondering and awe¬
struck thousands. The Act of Indulgence by Charles,
however questionable in its motives or in its principles, only
gave back to the Nonconformists what was their right; and, —
taking shelter under its precarious protection, Owen ven¬
tured to form a church in Leadenhall Street, where there
gathered around him many of the heroes of the wars of the
Commonwealth, “ honourable women not a few, and pious
noblemen, such as Lord W harton, who, while they did not
join his church, delighted to wait on his ministry. His
confidential intercourse with these noblemen enabled him
at times to learn the dangers that threatened Nonconformity,
to apprise his suffering brethren in rural districts of coming
evils, and it is even understood afforded him the gratifica¬
tion of helping to release Bunyan from his prison at Bedford.
While the liberty of preaching was thus restrained and fitful,
Owen did noble service at this period with his pen, and
made some of his greatest bequests to posterity. Only once
in his many controversial combats did he retire unquestion¬
ably vanquished from the field. Having rashly called in
question the statements of Walton in his Polyglott, in
reference to the various readings in the original manuscripts
and versions of the Scriptures, and having with equal rash¬
ness ascribed consequences to those statements which they
did not bear, he drew down the exposure of the proud ec¬
clesiastic, who proved by the tone of his answer that he was
not displeased to find an opportunity of laying the leader
and champion of the Puritans in the dust. But he was
more than compensated for his mortification in this instance
by his triumph over Parker in his argument against tolera¬
tion, and in his base attempts to blacken the character of
many of the Nonconformists,—a work in which Owen was
at length joined by Andrew Marvel, in his Rehearsal
Transprosed, which turned the laugh even of Charles and
his court against the truculent defamer, and held him
up to immortal infamy. It would occupy undue space
simply to enumerate all the works of Owen which belong
to this closing period of his life, and which were often born
amid the depression and the darkness of persecution.
Amongst his devotional and practical writings, those on
Communion with God, on Temptation, on Indwelling Sin,
and on Spiritual Mindedness, belong to this period ; among
his controversial works, his discussions on Schism, and his
Animadversions on Fiat Lux ; among his theological
treatises, his Theologoumena, his work on the Holy Spirit,
and his Christologia ; and among his expository composi-
sitions, that on the 130th Psalm, and his Commentary on
the Epistle to the Hebrews,—the gigantic work of a gigantic
mind, which, for exhaustive fulness, exegetical tact, matured
learning, and profound piety which doubles his power as
an interpreter, stands unapproached, except by the colossal
work of the Dutch Vitringa on Isaiah. His latest writings
make it evident that his desires were intensely turned, to¬
wards the close of his life, to two great objects union
among Protestants, and the x-esistance of Popery ; while his
course as an author was sublimely closed by his Meditations
on the Glory of Christ, to the first sheets of which he gave
his finishing touch on the day of his death. That death
came while he yet stood only on the confines of old age.
The calm and the kind hospitalities of Lord Wharton’s
house at Woburn, and the sweet seclusion of Ealing, could
do little to alleviate the asthma and the torturing stone
which were shaking his iron frame to pieces. On the 24th
of August 1683, the anniversary of St Bartholomew’s Day,
the spirit of the great Puritan passed upward from amid the
strife of tongues. Eleven days afterwards, a long and
mournful procession, composed of more than sixty noble¬
men in carriages drawn by six horses each, and of many
others, in mourning-coaches and on horseback, silently fol¬
lowed the mortal remains of Owen along the streets of
London, and deposited them in Bunhill Fields, the Puritan
necropolis.
The popular conceptions that have generally been formed
Owen.
OWE
OWE
33
Owen.
of Owen have considerably differed in more than one re¬
spect from the facts. He was not, as many appear to have
imagined from the magnitude and abstruse nature of some
of his works, a mere recluse who delighted to pore over
dim manuscripts and dusty tomes, but a man of large po¬
pular sympathies, capable of social delights, and with such
commanding appearance and propriety of manners as made
him fit to stand before kings. And those are equally mis¬
taken who conceive of him as a sermon-maker, rathei than
a preacher who is able to inspire and illuminate his words by
the looks and the living voice. He is described even by
adverse contemporaries, such as Anthony Wood, as able
to wind himself almost as he pleased into the affections of
his auditory j ” and we may rest assured that the helmed
heroes of the Commonwealth would not have so often in¬
vited to address them, on their days of highest festival, a
mummy or an automaton. More than any other of the con¬
temporary leaders of the Puritans, Owen was a man of
affairs, and possessed in remarkable combination that clear
apprehension and firm grasp of great principles, that quick
perception of character and discovery of hidden motives in
other men, that knowledge of the times,—when to act, and
when to economize strength,—which go to form the social
leader, and even the great statesman. Baxter, with his im¬
pulsive energy, would have led his friends into difficulties,
or, with his love of dialectics and fine distinctions, would
have reasoned and speculated when he should have acted;
Howe was more formed for meditation than for the rough
details of common life ; Owen was the pilot to whom the
Puritans looked whenever they saw the gathering storm.
As a theological thinker and author he holds his own dis¬
tinctly-defined place among those Titanic intellects with
which his age abounded. Surpassed by Baxter in point
and pathos, by Howe in imagination and in the higher philo¬
sophy,—without the tenderness of Flavel, or the native ele¬
gance of Bates,—he is unrivalled in his power of unfolding
the rich meanings of Scripture, of bringing out the ex¬
haustless treasures from the mine of a text, of disclosing
the harmonies and connections of passages of Scripture ; of
doing the work of a biblical interpreter, one among a thou¬
sand. There is scarcely a great subject in the wide range
of inspired theology on which he has not written a treatise
that has now lived for two centuries ; and his works are to
this hour the armoury to which modern controversialists go
the most readily to equip themselves in the well-tried pano¬
ply of the strong and sturdy Puritan. He was accustomed
to read everything beforehand on the subject on which he
intended to write, especially the writings of opponents ; and
when he sat down himself to write, he exhausted his theme,
leaving to an author that should attempt to follow him not
even the gleanings at the corners of the field.
His style has most hindered his popularity. Many fine
passages might no doubt be extracted from his writings;
but in general his manner of expressing himself is lumbering,
involved, and unmusical, and the golden thoughts but sel¬
dom owe anything to skilful setting. We have elsewhere
compared his motions to those of the elephant—slow and
ungainly, but with a tread that shakes the earth, and with a
resistless force that breaks its way through tangled thickets
and serried ranks of armed men. In his writings he was
pre-eminently the great theologian, and in his practical
counsels the Nestor, of the Puritans. (a. t.)
Owen, John (called in Latin, Ovenus or Audomus),
a writer of Latin epigrams, once very popular all over
Europe, was of Welsh extraction, and was born at Armon
in Caernarvonshire. He was educated under Dr Bilson at
Wykeham’s School, Winchester, and afterwards studied at
New College, Oxford, where he received a fellowship in
1584, and took the degree of Bachelor of Laws in 1590.
(Wood, Ath. Ox., vol. i., col. 471.) Throwing up his fel¬
lowship during the following year, he turned schoolmaster,
VOL. XVII.
and taught successively at Trylegh, near Monmouth, and
at Warwick. He soon became distinguished for his per¬
fect mastery of the Latin language, and for the humour,
felicity, and point of his epigrams. As a writer of Latin
verse he takes rank with Buchanan and Cowley. Those
who, with Dryden, place the epigram “at the bottom of
all poetry,” will not estimate Owen’s poetical genius
very high; yet the continental scholars and wits of the
day used to call him “ the British Martial.” “ In one respect
he was a true poet,” says a biographer; “ namely, he was
always poor.” He was a staunch Protestant besides, and
could not resist the temptation of turning his wit against
Popery occasionally. This practice caused his book to be
placed on the Index Expurgatorius of the Romish Church
in 1654, and what was yet more serious, led a rich old uncle
of the Catholic persuasion, from whom he had “ great ex¬
pectations,” to cut the epigrammatist out of his will. When
the poet died in 1622, his countryman and relative, Bishop
Williams of Lincoln, had him buried at St Paul’s Cathe¬
dral, London, where he erected a monument to his me¬
mory bearing an elegant epitaph in Latin. (See Dugdale’s
Hist, of St Pauls.) Owen’s Epigrammata are divided
into twelve books, of which the first four were published
in 1606, and the rest at four different times. The best edi¬
tions are those printed by Elzevir and by Didot. Transla¬
tions into English, either in whole or in part, have been
made by Vicars, 1619 ; by Peeke, in his Parnassi Puerpe-
rium, 1659; and by Harvey in 1677, which is the most
complete. La Torre, the Spanish epigrammatist, owed
much to Owen,and translated his works into Spanish in 1674.
French translations of the best of Owen’s epigrams have
been published by A. L. Lebrun, 1709, and by Kerivalant,
Owen
1819.
Owen, William, one of the ablest of English portrait-
painters, was the son of a bookseller, and was born at Lud¬
low in Shropshire in 1769. After receiving a good edu¬
cation in his native town, he repaired to London at the age
of seventeen, and began to study under Catton, the acade¬
mician. He sent his first portrait to the Somerset House
exhibition in 1792, at the time when Lawrence, Beechy,
and Hoppner were in their palmiest days. T he easy and
elegant touch, and the clear and strong perception of cha¬
racter which the young artist displayed, soon exacted atten¬
tion. William Pitt sat to him in 1798; and from that
time the merits of Owen in portraiture began to be gene¬
rally recognised. The portraits of the Duchess of Buc-
cleuch, Sir William Scott, Cyril Jackson, the Bishop of
Durham, and the Marquis of Stafford, came to be admired
for their freedom, vigour, and excellent light and shade.
Owen was elected a member of the Royal Academy in 1806.
The Prince of Wales made him his portrait-painter in
1810, and would have knighted him in 1813 had not the
artist declined the honour. Meanwhile Owen had been
rising to an equally high place in another province of his
profession. His fancy sketches, especially that of ‘ Peasants
Restingby the Roadside,” and that of “ The Fortune-teller
and the Lady,” were remarkable for their exquisite delinea¬
tion of ordinary life, and attracted crowds of admirers. To¬
wards the close of his life, however, Owen found no time
to indulge in these sportive exercises ot the pencil, and was
obliged to confine himself to portraiture. In 1818 his pro-
sperity was at its height. The portraits he had painted
amounted to nearly two hundred, and his income had risen
to about L.3000 a year, when an attack of disease shook the
brush from his hand. He continued to linger on in great
debility, till a dose of opium, which he had swallowed by
mistake, put an end to his existence on the 11th February
1825. (Cunningham’s Lives of Painters, &c.)
OXENSTIERNA, Count Axel, a distinguished Swed¬
ish statesman, was born at Fano in Upland in 1583. After
studying at the universities of Rostock, Jena, and Witten-
E
34
Oxford.
0 X F
bercr, and graduating in arts, he visited most of the German
courts, and returned to Sweden in 1602. Accomplished in
scholarship, versed in foreign politics, taking to business
spontaneously and eagerly, far-sighted, faithful, and patriotic,
Oxenstierna now entered upon the career of a statesman
under Charles IX. He conducted an important diplomatic
mission in 1606, became a senator in 1608, and presided
over the regency which governed the country during the
superannuation of the king. His influence rose still higher
on the accession of Gustavus Adolphus in 1611.
chancellorship, the chief office of the state, was conferred
upon him ; he became the able second of his sovereign in
advancing the interests of his native country, and in defend¬
ing the liberties of Europe ; and it was soon proved that he
was not unworthy to consummate by the art of diplomacy
the enterprise which the royal hero had begun by the ait ot
war. His negotiations brought to an advantageous close in
1613 one war with Denmark, and in 1617 another with
Russia. It was, however, in 1632, when Gustavus fe”
Lutzen, that Oxenstierna rose to the height of power, i he
great task of maintaining, in the room of the fallen hero, the
cause of Protestantism, was entrusted to him ; and that task
he performed amid the onset of enemies and the dissen¬
sions of allies, with unwearied vigour and ultimate success.
His authority as chancellor, and as one of the guardians ot
Queen Christina, was exerted in introducing an improved
plan of finance, removing burdens from trade, and patroniz¬
ing learning. He also succeeded in checking the misrule
incident to a minority ; and in 1645 placed an unimpaired
o-overnment in the hands of the young princess. 1 he high
public influence of Oxenstierna declined considerably to¬
wards the close of his life, in consequence of the determined
opposition which he offered to the abdication of Queen
Christina. Although sometimes consulted by Charles
Gustavus, he lived thenceforth in private till his death, in
16()4XFORD, the seat of the university and the capital of
the county of the same name, is situated 53 miles from
London by the road, and 63 by the railway. . The name,
as shown by Domesday the old Saxon chronicle, and the
city arms, is derived from its originally being a ford for oxen.
It stands in a richly-watered valley between the confluence
of the Cherwell and the Isis ; and when seen from the rising
ground near the city, its appearance is singularly beautiful
and impressive, from its panorama of towers and domes,
stately collegiate and public edifices, amid gardens and
waters.
0 X F
In English history Oxford occupies an important position,
second perhaps only to London. Its origin as a place of note is
generally assigned to Alfred ; hut both an earlier and a later date
Ln this have found favour. Before the time of the Conqueror
we hear of it as an abode of the Saxon kings of its having been
thrice destroyed by fire, and of its having suffered severely from
Se ravage,7f the D»n.,. It i, one of the .even fortified town.,
during the Danish invasion, mentioned in the Saxon chronicle.
At the time of Edward the Confessor there were 72J ^habited
houses in Oxford; and at the time of the compilation of Domesday
only 243. The town had resisted William, and this decrease was the
result of his vengeance. The neighbourhood was strongly anti-
Norman ; and Robert D’Oiley, the chieftain to whom this tract of
country was assigned, built a castle on the western si e, o overaw
the surrounding country. Henry I. was frequently ere an a 18
neighbouring park of Woodstock. In the time of ^inS eP
who held here his first gathering after his return from Norman y,
we read of it as a place of great strength; and the town figures
largely in the civil wars of that time. In 1141, after a long siege,
it was taken by Stephen ; Maud made her escape, dressed in white,
over the frozen river, which was covered with snow. Henry II.
visited Oxford, and he gave the city its great charter, assigning to
it all the privileges and liberties of London, besides some extra¬
ordinary privileges. Richard I., who was born here, and for whose
ransom the city raised a large contribution, confirmed these privi¬
leges, and greatly added to them. Simon de Montfort’s celebrated
Mad Parliament of Henry’s rebellious barons was held here, and or¬
dained the famous “ Provisions of Oxford.” The original writ of
the king to the people, directing them to abide by the decisions of the
new council of the nation, has been discovered in the city archives. _
The most striking feature in the history of Oxford is the bitter
hostility that ever prevailed between the town and the university.
Their respective jurisdictions, rights, and privileges constantly
came into collision ; and these feuds, in that rough age, were fre¬
quently attended by most disastrous and fatal results. (See Uni¬
versities, Oxford.) By far the worst of these was John Bere-
ford’s riot in 1355. The colleges and halls were completely sacked
by the mob ; many Ryes were lost, and vast injury was done. _ The
town was placed under an interdict; and the university resigned
its charter; as if insecure of its existence,-an example which was
followed by the town. Both the charters were subsequently re¬
stored, with alterations in favour of the university The latter
part of the fourteenth century is a bright period in the annals of
Oxford. It was the first seat of Protestantism, and Wychffe, the
morning-star of the Reformation. Henry VIII. erected Oxford into
a separate see : it had before been included in the diocese of Lin¬
coln. In 1555, under Queen Mary, Ridley and Latimer suffered
here at the stake, and subsequently Archbishop Cranmer. Queen
Elizabeth visited Oxford, and displayed her erudition by making a
long Latin speech to her learned audience. The plague raged
here with dreadful severity in her reign. As fatal as the plague
was the remarkable jail-fever which happened here in 1577, re¬
specting which Lord Bacon has written. During a trial, several
hundred persons sickened in court, among whom were jurors and
magistrates, the high sheriff and the chief baron. James I. vi¬
sited Oxford frequently ; and the first Parliament of Charles I. was
held here, in consequence of the plague being prevalent in London.
Oxford was greatly distinguished in the parliamentary wars for
its loyalty and constancy to the royal cause When the king
wrote for help from York, the university sent him all their plate
and ready money. In 1642 the city was occupied by the parlia¬
mentary troops; but after the battle of Edgehill the king esta¬
blished his court and camp here. The city was a second time oc¬
cupied by the Parliamentarians, and again by the king. Oxtord.
was one of the last cities that remained loyal to Charles, nor was it
finally surrendered till every hope of saving him was lost.
Oliver Cromwell became the chancellor of the university. A
parliamentary commission expelled some leading loyalists, and set
aside some ceremonies that were opposed to the prevalent Puritanic
spirit. In 1665, the year of the great plague, Parliament assem¬
bled in Oxford. The Parliament of 1681 was also summoned
here, but was dissolved after a few days. James II.’s invasion
of the rights of Magdalen College is closely connected with the
Revolution, and belongs to English history. Oxford gave the title
of Earl to the ancient family of the Veres, which became extinct
in the twentieth earl in 1702 ; and in 1711 the title was revived
in favour of Speaker Harley. . .
Oxford is in the form of an ellipse, and, including its suburbs, is
at least 3 miles in circumference. It has its high steward, recorder,
mayor, sheriff, aldermen, councillors, magistrates ; and returns two
members to Parliament. There is a free reading-room and library,
and public baths and workhouses. The city is rich in various
charities and institutions, among which should be especially men¬
tioned the Ratcliffe Infirmary, and the Ratcliffe or Warneford
Lunatic Asylum. Its civic buildings comprehend the town-hall,
erected in 1753, and the council-chamber, where royal and illus¬
trious visitors are received, adorned with an interesting collection
of portraits. In 1840 a new county-hall and courts were erected,
at a cost of about L.15,000. The castle of Oxford appears, from
some interesting remains, — the crypt, the well-room, and t e
tower, — to have been an ancient Saxon fortress before its oc-
cupation by the Normans. The great ditch is now a mill-stream,
and the castle is the county jail; but great taste and skill have been
exerted to preserve the ancient remains as far as possible.
Anciently the city was strongly walled, and there are many mu¬
ral remains, especially at New College. The principal streets are
wide and regular; the four principal thoroughfares cross each
other in a central situation by Carfax Church. The famous Hig
Street commences with the beautiful bridge over the Cherwell. On
its left are the Botanic Gardens, sloping down to the river, and
adorned with fountains and conservatories. It passes the Magda, en
Tower, one of the finest architectural ornaments of the university,
and extends westwards, lined with numerous collegiate buildings.
The intermingled town edifices add to the picturesque, while the
curvature of the street gradually opens up fresh and striking points
of view. Broad Street runs parallel with the High Street, ^riv¬
ing its name from its vast area. It was here, opposite Balliol Col¬
lege, that Ridley and Latimer suffered. Near the junction of Broad
Street with St Giles, a beautiful Gothic monument has been erected
to their memory—the Martyrs’ Memorial. St Giles is a spacious
street, somewhat irregularly built, with a church at each end, and
a row of trees on each side. Beaumont Street, a fine modern street,
Oxford.
OXFORD.
35
Oxford, branches from St Giles, and fronts Worcester College. In Corn-
y market Street are the buildings of the Union Society, who have re-
v cently erected a large debating-room, ornamented with wall-paint¬
ings by eminent pre-Raphaelite artists, illustrative of the Arthurean
cycle of romance. At the end of Port Meadow—a pasture-ground
belonging to the citizens, of 439 acres—are the ruins of Godstowe
Nunnery, famous as the burial-place of Fair Rosamond.
with its beautiful Norman church, Headington Hill, Shotover Hill,
Bagley Wood, and Nuneham Park, are well known localities in the
neighbourhood of Oxford.
We now proceed to give some account of the more important
public buildings of Oxford, chief among which are the colleges.
(The history, constitution, and statistics of the university and col¬
leges, will be found in the article Univeksities.) We commence
with Christ Church, from its importance and colossal proportions.
Its Norman foundation and earlier buildings date from 1154. Its
origin as a college is due to Wolsey, and it was originally called
Cardinal College. But on his attainder in 1529, all the buildings
and revenues lapsed to the Crown. In 1546 Henry transferred the
new see of Oxford from Osney Abbey to Christ Church, and con¬
stituted it in the mixed form of a cathedral and academic college.
The western frontage of Christ Church is of great extent and mag¬
nificence. It terminated at each end by a projecting turret, and
between the two is the stately gateway, above which rises the
tower containing the great Tom of Oxford, a bell weighing 17,000
lb., originally brought from Osney Abbey. The great quadrangle
occupies a large area, and has a broad terrace on every side. The en¬
trance to the hall is by Wolsey’s ample staircase, above which Bishop
Fell erected a roof of exquisite tracery, supported by the long slender
stem of a single clustered column. The hall is very imposing,
having a lofty oaken roof carved and gilded, armorial bearings
emblazoned round the cornice, and numerous portraits on the walls.
The college chapel, which is the cathedral of the diocese, is of
great antiquity, and has traces of various additions and alterations
in the course of time. It is rich in ancient windows and monu¬
ments, among which is the shrine of St Fridiswide; the choir, of
black and white marble, has a Gothic roof of remarkable beauty.
In 1857 the Dean and Chapter removed the wainscotting, restored
the columns, and threw the choir and nave into one. The effect is
exceedingly good, and there is a large gain of space. The chap¬
ter-house adjoining is an exceedingly remarkable and interesting
room. The library contains a large collection of books, some rare
coins and sculptures, and a splendid collection of chiefly Italian
pictures, the bequest of General Guise. Merton College is interest¬
ing as the earliest instance of the present collegiate system, the
founder being the first who settled the students in a regular abode
and under a fixed discipline. Its chapel, a cathedral-like structure,
is also one of the parish churches. The ante-chapel and the tower
are very noticeable, as also are the library and hall. Exeter Col¬
lege has a long and handsome east frontage, the effect of which
is greatly marred by the narrowness of the street which it partly
lines. Of late years the college has almost been entirely taken
down and rebuilt; some splendid piles of building are in progress,
including a noble chapel. A new and handsome chapel has very
recently been built for Balliol College, a college which has gained
an enviable pre-eminence through the scholastic distinctions obr
tained by its members. New College is one of the most splendid
structures of the university, and the chapel is by far its most
striking feature. In the east end, tier rises above tier of canopied
niches; and the altarpiece is almost unexampled for decorative
richness, including six sacred subjects sculptured in marble by
Westmacott. The ante-chapel is loftily roofed, sustained by two
tall splendid pillars; its great west window is executed from a
design by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The costly crosier of the founder,
which is exhibited, is an object of great interest. Adjoining the
chapel the cloisters inclose a square, at one corner of which rises
an embattled tower.
The venerable buildings of Magdalen College present a low em¬
battled front on the south side to the High Street, and here rises
the noble tower mentioned above. Entering through a fine modern
gateway, designed by Flaxman, and passing through the court
which fronts the President’s spacious lodgings, we pass into the
chief quadrangle, through a second gateway, surmounted by a
very beautiful and remarkable tower. A venerable cloister,
around the interior of which is placed a series of curiously-sculp¬
tured hieroglyphics, surrounds the whole of the spacious quadrangle.
The beautiful chapel was greatly defaced at the times of the
Reformation and Rebellion, but it still ranks as one of the finest
in the university. Each side of the choir has a range of five win¬
dows in claro obscuro ,- underneath the altarpiece is Morales’ cele¬
brated picture of Christ bearing the Cross; the pavement is of
black and white marble ; a screen of great beauty separates from
the ante-chapel. This last has many monuments, and is lighted by
eight fine windows in claro obscuro; the west window has Swartz’s
representation of the Last Judgment. The hall is an extensive and Oxford
handsomely decorated room. The pleasure-grounds of the college
are highly celebrated, consisting of a grove planted with noble
elms, and the Magdalen meadow surrounded by shaded walks.
All’ Souls’ College has a long frontage in the High Street, from
which it is entered by two gateways. It has two quadrangles, the
first erected by the founder, plain and ancient; the second is in
the later English style, and is very striking, though not without
blemishes in an artistic point of view. The chapel and hall
are worthy of great attention ; but the library is perhaps the most
striking feature of the college. It was founded by a bequest
of books and money by Colonel Codrington. There is a large col¬
lection of works and many rare manuscripts; the spacious room is
decorated with busts and vases, and the cases are separated by
Doric and Ionic pilasters of dark green. The library of
Queen’s College is a noble room, taking up the entire western
side of the inner court of the college, and has one of the largest
collections of books in the university.
Among the buildings connected with the university, stands the
Bodleian Library, founded through the munificence of Sir Thomas
Bodley, and opened to the public in 1602. We do not here enter
into any account of the countless treasures belonging to this in¬
valuable library. The picture gallery of the Bodleian has a noble
collection of British historical portraits, besides other paintings,
busts, models, and various valuable curiosities. The library and
gallery occupy a large portion of the quadrangle called the Schools;
in an apartment on the north side are kept the Arundelian
Marbles. The divinity school is a magnificent specimen of later
English architecture; the tall windows, with their slender munnions
and the exquisite tracery of their arches, are very striking; the
roof, moreover, is of great beauty. Northwards of the schools is the
Clarendon printing-house, erected from the profits of the History
of the Rebellion, the copyright of which was presented to the univer¬
sity by the author’s son. It was erected by Sir John Vanbrugh; the
north front has a bold portico with massive Doric pillars; there are
pediments to the four sides of the building, and statues of the nine
Muses on the summit: Lord Clarendon’s statue is over the south
entrance. The Clarendon is now used for other university pur¬
poses, the university having been able from its profits to build a
new printing-house. This is the most complete and largest print¬
ing-house in the world, with the exception of the celebrated one at
Paris. The buildings occupy two acres and a half, and form a
square, with a splendid gateway modelled after the arch of Con¬
stantine at Rome.
The Radcliffe Library was finished by Gibbs in 1749, from
LAO,000 bequeathed by Dr Radcliffe. Situated in the centre of
a square in the middle of the city, its vast dome is seen on every
side to great advantage, and gives Oxford an appearance which
somewhat reminds the traveller of the distant view of Rome. The
building is circular, the ground-floor is unoccupied, and the prin¬
cipal room, which is probably the most beautiful in the university,
is gained by a staircase. It is enriched with casts, busts, and sta¬
tuary, and a valuable collection of works relating to medicine and
natural history. The pavement is of Portland and Bremen stone ;
above the basement are duplicated Corinthian columns, supporting
an enriched entablature, above which is a balustrade ornamented
with urns; between the windows are sculptured foliage, fruit, and
flowers. Kneller’s portrait of the founder is over the principal
6ntrB.nc6«
The Sheldonian theatre was constructed in 1664 by Sir Christo¬
pher Wren, at the expense of L.12,470 to Archbishop Sheldon, who
left an additional L.2000 for its maintenance. It is built after the
theatre of Marcellus at Rome, and can contain nearly 4000 persons.
A new roof was constructed in 1802 with a magnificently-painted
ceiling. It is used for university meetings and occasional concerts ;
in the summer term the commemoration of founders and bene¬
factors is held, when honorary degrees are conferred upon dis¬
tinguished characters. .
The Ashmolean museum, provided for the reception of the cele¬
brated collection made by the Tradescants, presented to the uni¬
versity about 1682 by Elias Ashmole, was erected after a design by
Sir Christopher Wren. There is a valuable collection of coins,
medals, manuscripts, and paintings; an important antiquarian
library left by Dugdale and others; and extensive collections de¬
voted to chemistry, mineralogy, and experimental philosophy.
To provide for their increasing stores, part of which have been
taken in by the Clarendon, and also to extend the study of the
natural sciences, the university a few years back, resolved to
build a new museum. This is now rising in proportions of vast
extent and magnificence in the parks, and bids fair to be one of the
finest ornaments of Oxford.
The Taylor Institute for modern languages is another magnifi¬
cent structure, which has been added to Oxford of late years. It
contains a fine reading-room and library, chiefly of works in mo-
0 X F
dern languages, and a magnificent collection of paintings, draw¬
ings, and statuary. We should also mention the observatory and
music-room. There are numerous churches in Oxford, and the
chief of these may be considered that of St Mary, the university
church. The chancel was built in 1492, the rest of the church in
1498. Both the exterior and interior of this beautiful church are
striking, the splendid tower and spire being special objects of re¬
mark. In the north part of the church is the monumental chapel
of Adam de Broom. The church of St Peter in the east is one of
the most ancient in England, dating back probably to the ninth
century. The chancel is spacious, with a cluster of columns and
a finely ornamented roof. Beneath the chancel is the crypt, still
in good preservation, its arches supported by low ranges of Saxon
pillars. In striking contrast to this is All Saints’ church, built
in the Grecian style after a design by Dean Aldwick, with a pro¬
fusely-ornamented interior.
There are a number of other old churches, and of late years, to
meet the wants of an increasing population, new churches have been
built of great neatness and utility. There are a number of interesting
remains of ancient religious houses in Oxford and its neighbour¬
hood. Dissenters of various sects have their different chapels,
which are neat and spacious. The city has a general air of cheer¬
fulness, cleanliness, and prosperity. The _ university authority
is paramount, extending five miles in every direction. Pop. (lool;
27,843.
OXFORD, Earl of. See Harley.
OXFORDSHIRE, an inland county of England, is
bounded on the S. by the Thames, and, as it follows the
windings of that river, is in shape very irregular. Ihe
breadth near Oxford is only 7 miles, its greatest breadth
in the north is 38 miles, and the extreme length nearly
50 miles. The River Cherwell bounds it on the N., with
the counties of Warwick and Northampton; Buckingham¬
shire is on the E.; and Gloucestershire on the W. It
contains 479,267 acres. . ,
The surface of the county is very varied, from the rich
water meadows of the Thames, to the high, bare chalk nil s.
For a southern county, the climate is certainly cold; dense
fogs often hang heavily over the Chiltern Hills and wood¬
lands, and, according to meteorological returns, there is
considerably more rain in Oxford than in London. Ihe
geological strata of the county confer upon it a directly
agricultural character, being those termed the secondary
series, including also a small portion of the lower bed ot
the tertiary. These scarcely yield any minerals : the vary¬
ing constituents of the strata exhibit alternately clay and
stratified rock and sand. Here there is a numberless
variety of soils which are not capable of a very strict classi¬
fication, and as regards the practical agriculture, we must
chiefly consider superficial accumulations and alluvial de¬
posits. The soil by the Thames is rich black mould; in the
midland districts it is the decomposed stone-brash or lime¬
stone, with sand and loam ; in the north there are the forti e
red soils; and in the Chilterns a sandy loam laid on chalk.
These are the main agricultural divisions.
Owing to this character of the county, there is no par¬
ticular system of agriculture, and the same course is scarcely
pursued in the same parish or on the same farm. An n-
regularity of cropping is unavoidable. Wheat, barley, and
oats are generally cultivated; pease and beans occasiona y.
The turnip, both the common and the Swede, are grown to a
great extent; it is also a practice to sow beans and pease
mixed, chiefly on the lighter lands, and this is called poulse.
Clover, trefoil, and sainfoin are grown to a great extent. n
the banks of the Thames and the Cherwell the best tee mg
lands are found; and in some places the meadows are mown
twice a year. The Thames meadows are subject to fre¬
quent and injurious inundations. There have been as many
as seventeen floods in a year; 6000 acres have been undei
water, and three-fourths of the hay has been known to be
swept away. A good system of artificial drainage is
much wanted; neither are there many water-meadows,
though the soil is well adapted for irrigation. It is by no
means a grazing county, the stock being chiefly kept for
dairy purposes. The county is celebrated for its half-
O X F
breds or Down-Cotswolds, which in process of time has Oxford-
become a distinct breed of sheep, the management of shire,
which is brought to a high state of perfection. The use of
the thrashing-machine has become very common.
Great improvements have taken place in the last twenty
years by the extension of inclosures. The hedging is good,
the ditching very inferior; in the N.E. of the county stone
walls are common. In 1853 an act was passed to disafforest
the wild Wychwood Forest, and to constitute it a parish,
with church, schools, &c. the woods and wastes of Wych¬
wood lie between the Evenlode and the Windrush; quar¬
ries of stone, slate, and one of marble are found beneath
its stone-brash soil; springs of water and clear rills add
great beauty to the wild scenery; the glens and copses are
crowded with deer and game. In Cornbury Park are some
ancient oaks and long avenues of stately beeches ; and the
antiquities connected with the forest are numerous and
interesting. The farm-steadings in the county are ot a
very inferior description, and the farms are for the most
part small. On the Blenheim estate the farming is of a
first-class character. Leases are seldom given ; the ten¬
ant generally holds from year to year, a system which is
a fatal bar to improvement on the part of the tenantry.
Under the colleges, however, families have held land from
generation to generation. One-sixth of the income from
land belongs to the university and other religious bodies;
and the general impression seems to be that they are far
from being well managed.
Oxfordshire is remarkable for its many rivers, the pun-
cipal being the Evenlode, the Windrush, the Cherwell, and
the Isis; the last, when it is joined by the streamlet Thame,
below Dorchester, is called the 1 hames. The river by
Oxford should rightly obtain the name; and indeed it is so
styled in the earlier charters. The banks of the river are
studded by various beautiful country seats; the prospect
is always pleasing and sometimes beautiful, growing, how¬
ever, somewhat bare and tame towards the N. and N.W.
Among the different seats, the famous residence of the
dukes of Marlborough stands pre-eminent; we should also
mention Nuneham-Courtenay, Wroxton Priory, and Stan-
ton-Harcourt. The antiquities of the county are numerous
and interesting: there are several Roman and some very
curious British remains; the Ikenald Street, one of the four
praetorian ways, skirted the base of the Chiltern Hills.
There are some ancient tumuli and encampments in the
neighbourhood of Wychwood Forest; and a considerable
number of Roman coins, and even some old British coins,
have been discovered. In this county, too, are many maiks
and remains of the old warfare between the Danes and
Saxons, chiefly in the way of military entrenchments and
sepulchral mounds. Interesting reminiscences of the civil
wars are everywhere suggested. To the geologist Oxford¬
shire is a very interesting county; its beds afford some
of our national geological characteristics, and abound with
interesting and rare fossils.
We cannot speak highly of the accommodation provided
for the peasantry; and the character of the Oxfordshire
labourer for temperance and intelligence does not stand
high. Some of the roads in the vicinity of Oxford are in
a disgraceful condition. Of late years much has been at¬
tempted in extending education and church accommodation
among the poor, and with favourable effect. The smaller
towns of Oxfordshire are mentioned elsewhere: the more
noteworthy are Banbury, Woodstock, Henley-on-Thames,
Witney, Bampton, Bicester, Burford, Chipping-Norton,
Thame, Watlington. These are the market-towns; the
two first are also boroughs, each returning a member to
Parliament; and the county returns three members, elected
at Oxford. .
The population of the county amounted in 1851 to
170,439; in 1841 it was 163,143 ; while in 1801 it was
Oxide
II
Ozanam.
0 X I
111,977. Thus, while England has more than doubled its
population in the half century, this county, in common
with other midland counties, has only increased 5_, per
cent. It contains 1 city, 11 market-towns, 14 hundreds,
and 278 parishes. It contains a population of 2-8 acres
to a person; throughout England the proportion is 1 9
acres. Oxfordshire contained in 1851, in all, 504 places
of worship, with 110,666 sittings. Of the former, 266 be¬
longed to the Church of England, 116 to Wesleyan Me¬
thodists, 50 to Baptists, 43 to Independents, 12 to Quakers,
and 8 to Roman Catholics. There were in the same year,
591 day-schools, with 23,498 scholars (12,135 male and
11,363 female). Of these schools 247, having 16,574
scholars, were public ; 9, with 613 scholars, being supported
by general or local taxation ; 51, with 3014 scholars, by en¬
dowments ; and 181, with 12,582 scholars, by religious
bodies. Besides these, there were 314 Sunday-schools,
with 19,776 scholars (9573 male and 10,203 female), and
19 evening schools, with 373 scholars. (f. a.)
OXIDE, and OXIDATION. See Chemistry.
OXUS ("fi£os), a great river of Central Asia, called by
the natives on its banks the Amoo, and by Turkish and
Persian writers the Jihon, rises in a lake called Sari-Kol,
about 15,600 ft. above the sea, among the Pamir Mountains
or Tartaric Caucasus, in Badakhshan ; Lat. 37. 48. N.,
Long. 73. 40. E. The river issues from the west end of the
lake, and thence flows N.W. until it falls into the Sea of
Aral. Near its origin the Oxus receives several tributaries
from the Hindoo Koosh ; and during its course there are
many large affluents of which comparatively little is known.
Its whole length is about 1300 miles, and it drains an area
estimated at about 221,256 square miles. The most re¬
markable fact connected with this river is, that the testimony
of antiquity is almost unanimous in representing the Oxus as
flowing into the Caspian. Pomponius Mela is the only
ancient writer whose description of the Oxus agrees with
its modern course ; but his single testimony cannot be con¬
sidered of much value, since both Strabo, who lived but
a short time before him, and Ptolemy, within a century
after, assert that in their time it followed a different course ;
while the former writer informs us that merchandise was
conveyed from the East by this river to the Caspian, and
thence to the Euxine. It is therefore the opinion of most
modern authorities, that the river did formerly discharge
itself into the Caspian ; and some traces of its mouths, it is
thought, have been discovered in the Bay of Balkan. Hum¬
boldt supposes, that down to the time of Alexander the Sea
of Aral and the Caspian formed one great sea ; that by some
violent convulsion, or by the gradual effects of evaporation,
they were separated; and that the Oxus then had two
branches, one flowing to the Caspian, and the other to the
Aral, the former of which has become dried up, so that the
latter only now remains.
OXYGEN. See Chemistry.
OYER and TERMINER (Fr. to hear and determine'),
two words in ancient law French, applied to the commis¬
sion by which authority is granted to certain individuals to
establish a court of criminal judicature for hearing and de¬
termining certain specified offences.
OZANAM, Jacques, a laborious French mathematician,
was of Jewish extraction, and was born at Bouligneux, in
the principality of Dombes, in 1640. His passion for
mathematics was developed at an early age. On the death
of his father, who had designed him for the church, Ozanam
abandoned divinity and took to mathematics, at Lyons.
His removal to Paris soon afterwards was the means of
increasing alike his zeal and his fame. He devoted much
of his time to his pupils, both native and foreign; and
he wrote many valuable mathematical works. The latter
part of the career of Ozanam was clouded with domestic
suffering ; and the war of the Spanish succession deprived
O Z O 37
him of many of his pupils. Yet he preserved his cheerful Ozell
and amiable disposition, until a stroke of apoplexy closed ||
bis career on the 3d April 1717. Ozorkov.
Among a great number of works on theoretical and prac-
tical mathematics, the best known and most esteemed are
the Dictionnaire Mathematique, Paris, 1690, 4to; Cours
de Mathematiques, ibid., 1693, 5 vols. 8vo; Recreations
Mathematiques et Physiques, ibid., 1694, 2 vols. 8vo, im¬
proved by Montucla, Paris, 1778, 4 vols. 8vo, and still further
improved in the English edition of Dr Hutton, London,
1803, 8vo. Ozanam left in manuscript a treatise on the
Analysis of Diophantus, which was in the library of D’Agues-
seau. (See his Eloge by Fontenelle, the Memoires of
Niceron, and the Dictionary of Chauffepie.)
OZELL, John, an industrious translator, was born about
the close of the seventeenth century. At the school of
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and at Christ’s Hospital, he acquired
a knowledge of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. Having en¬
tered an accountant’s office, his leisure hours were devoted
to the cultivation of the literature of France, Spain, and
Italy. He published metrical versions of some of the works
of Moliere, Corneille, Racine, Boileau, and Tassoni; and
prose translations of Fenelon On Learning, The Port-Royal
Logic, Rabelais’ works, Don Quixote, Vertot’s Revolutions
of the Roman Republic, and a Life of Veronica. The
vanity of the translator has preserved his name longer than
the merit of his translations. The conceited author was
exalted to a place among the immortal dunces of Pope ; he
retaliated by inviting the public, in an advertisement in the
Weekly Medley of 1729, lo judge between his genius and
that, of the great poet; Pope replied by inserting the ab¬
surd advertisement into the notes of a succeeding edition of
the Dunciad ; and the translator thus acquired a notoriety,
which still lives. He died in 1743.
OZEROV, Vladislav Alexandrovitch, a celebrated
Russian tragic poet, was born in the government of Tver
in 1770. The early part of his life was spent in the public
service. At the age of six he entered the army as a cadet,
and on retiring from military life he had attained to the
rank of major-general, and received a civil appointment.
Meanwhile he devoted his leisure to the composition of
tragedy; and surpassed all preceding Russian dramatists
in his knowledge of stage effect, in the conception of his
plots, in the pathos of his incidents, and in the warmth
and harmony of his poetical colouring. The Death of
Oleg in 1798, CEdipus not long afterwards, Frugal in 1805,
and Demetrii Donskoi in 1807, were all received with de¬
served applause by the public. Ihe only other tragedy
that the author produced, although he retired from the
public service in 1808, was Polyxena in 1809. During the
rest of his life a settled melancholy seems to have over¬
clouded his mind and chilled his imaginative faculty. He
died in 1816. The complete works of Ozerov, containing,
besides his tragedies, some lyric poems, and accompanied by
a Life, were published by Prince Viazemsky, in 2 vols., St
OZIERI, a town of the island of Sardinia, division of
Sassari, in a valley surrounded by hills on all sides but the
N. 15 miles E.S.E. of Sassari. It is substantially built on
uneven ground; but the streets are narrow and irregular.
Ozieri is the seat of the Bishop of Bisarcio, the town of that
name having long since entirely fallen. It contains a
cathedral, several other churches, a court-house, town-hall,
prison, episcopal college, and several other schools. Woollen
and linen stuffs are manufactured; and some trade is car¬
ried on in these, as well as in horses, cattle, hides, wool,
&c. Pop. 8433. ' '
OZORKOV, a town of the Russian empire, in Poland,
province of Warsaw, stands on the right bank of the Bsura,
75 miles W.S.W. of Warsaw. Considerable manufactures
of cloth are carried on. Pop. 8000.
38
P.
P T> the sixteenth letter of the English alphabet, is a
|| J- } consonant of the labial series, and is formed by a
Pacca. close compression of the anterior part of the lips. As may
be ascertained from inscriptions and coins, the Latin form
of this letter, which we have adopted, originated in shorten¬
ing and bending round the right leg of the Greek II, the
character representative of the hard labial in that language.
(See Alphabet, with Plates XIX. XX. and XXL corre¬
sponding.) P is liable to be converted with all labials, and is
not unfrequently interchangeable with other letters. 1 he
soft labial B is most frequently convertible with this letter,
however, of which we have examples in nearly all languages,
and especially in the German. In addition to the labials
m v,f pf P is likewise occasionally interchangeable with
c, k, or q, with t, and with pt. When P is aspirated or fol¬
lowed by an h, it is equivalent to the Greek <£, and corre¬
sponds in sound with the English/, as in physic, philosophy,
&c. In some words borrowed from the Greek, the letter
P is mute, as in psalm, ptisan, &c. If we may judge from
the line of Ugutio, P stood for 100 among the ancients; for
he says “ P similem cum C numerum monstratur habere.
Baronius, however, is inchned to think that it represente
T. With a dash over it ( P), it stood for 400,000. Among
the Greeks tt' was used for 80, and tt for 80,000; but on in¬
scriptions II stood for 5 (ireVre). Among physicians P stands
for puqil, or the eighth part of a handful; P.dE., partes (Equa¬
tes, ox equal parts of the ingredients; P.P., pulvis pamum,
or Jesuits’ bark in powder; a.o&ppL,preparatus, or prepared.
In music p. stands for piano, or softly; pp., for pia piano, or
more softly; and ppp. for pianissimo, or very softly. In
printing, «. stands for page, and pp. for pages. (For other
abbreviations of P, see the article Abbreviations.)
PACARAIMA, Sierra, a mountain chain of South
America, forming the boundary between Venezuela and
Brazil. It divides the waters of the Orinoco and Lsse-
ouibo on the N., from the Amazon and its affluents on the
S and extends E. and W. for about 200 miles, near the
4th degree of N. Lat. The height of the range towards the
E. does not exceed 1500 feet; but Mount Pacaraima near
the western extremity, is estimated at 2000 feet high.
The geological formation of the mountains is for the most
part granite; and they are in general quite destitute of
wood, forming a boundary between the dense forests on the
N., and the vast grassy savannahs on the S.
PACCA, Bartolomeo, a Roman cardinal and statesman,
was born of a noble family at Benevento in 1756. After
studying in his native town, he repaired to Rome, and
entering the church, was speedily recognised as a candidate
for promotion. From 1786 to 1800 he held the office of
papal nuncio at Cologne and Lisbon m succession ; in 1801
a cardinal’s hat was conferred upon him; and in 1808 Pius
VII. made him his prime minister. The destiny of Pacca
now became intimately connected with that of the supreme
pontiff. He was the pope’s accomplice in drawing up the
bull which excommunicated Napoleon in if » Wa»
consigned for this offence to the dungeon of r enestre e, a
the same time that his master was imprisoned at tontain-
bleau; and he shared in the honours of the pontiff s trium¬
phal return to Rome in 1814. Such a severely-tne
fidelity was rewarded by Pius VII. with ever-increasing
confidence and regard. The cardinal continued to hold in
succession several high civil offices till 1821, when he re¬
tired from public life. The rest of his days were chiefly
devoted to literary pursuits. He died at Rome in 1844.
The Historical Memoirs of Cardinal Pacca have been
translated into English by Sir G. Head, in 2 vols. 8vo.
Pacchia-
rotto
PACCHIAROTTO, Jacopo, one of the most eminent
painters of the Sienese school, was born at Siena in the
latter half of the fifteenth century. His style seems to have PacheC0i
been formed on that of Pietro Perugino, and he must also
have been a careful imitator of Raphael. Until 1535 his
brush was chiefly employed in painting frescoes and altar-
pieces for the churches of his native city. Then being
obliged to escape to France on account of the active part
he had taken in a conspiracy against the Sienese govern¬
ment, he began to assist Rosso. From this period there is
no further trace of him. For a long time the works of
Pacchiarotto were commonly ascribed to Perugino. Now,
however, his name has been rescued from neglect; and
although scarcely known beyond the limits of his native
town, he is praised by critics for his skilful composition, and
for the vivacity and grace of his heads and figures. I he
most famous of his pictures is “ The Visit of St Catherine
to the Body of St Agnes of Montepulciano, in the church
of Santa Caterina in Siena. (Lanzi’s History of Painting.)
PACE (passus, from pando, I extend), the unit of itine¬
rary measure among the Romans, consisting of 5 Roman
feet. The passus, or double step, was distinguished from
the qradus, or single step, in not being the distance from
heel to heel when the feet are at their ordinary extension
in walking, but the distance from the point which the heel
leaves to that in which it is again set down. A thousand
of such paces formed the mille passus, or Roman mile. 1 he
word passus was sometimes applied to the distance formed
by the extension of the arms in the same straight line (the
Greek onW), which accounts for Paucton’s derivation of
the word d passis manihus, instead of d passis pedious.
The Roman “ pace” was equal to about 58T English inches,
or 4-8416 feet. . . , .
PACHECO, Francisco, an eminent Spanish painter
and historian of art, was born at SevHle in 1571. His first
lessons were received from Luis Fernandez ; and from that
time he was a busy and zealous student. He pored over
the history of painting to learn the precepts and artistic
usages of the ancient masters; the stray prints of Raphael
that fell in his way were taken as models; and it became
his custom never to execute a picture before making two or
three studies of the heads and figures. The first engage¬
ments of the young artist were in decorative painting. In
1594 he adorned with figures and heraldic bearings the
banners of the fleets of New Spain and the mainland; and
in 1598 he executed in distemper some of the paintings on
the monument erected on the occasion of the funeral hon¬
ours of Philip II. By this time the peculiar style of Pacheco
was beginning to appear and to be appreciated. His com¬
position, though deficient in spirit and vigour, was simple
and correct; his colouring, in spite of its harshness and
dryness, was never glaringly unnatural; and if among the
various provinces of art which he tried he did not shine in
any, he made a respectable appearance in all. According y,
in the midst of other engagements, he was employed to
paint some incidents from the life of St Raymond for le
convent of Mercy in 1600, and the fable of Daedalus and
Icarus for the palace of the Duke of Alcala m 1603. It
was not long after this that the busiest part of Pacheco s
life began. Opening an academy of painting, he was soon
engrossed with numerous pupils. At the same time he was
expending great labour and patience on his masterpiece,
“ The Last Judgment,” an immense work, which was com¬
pleted in 1612. Nor did his appointment in 1618 to tne
office of inquisitor of art, by giving him new employmen s,
lessen his old. More commissions poured in upon turn
PAG
Pachete than he could execute; and he was hired to paint many
|| portraits, both in oil and crayons. In 1623 Pacheco had
’’achomius. reached the acme of his reputation ; and the latter years ot
his life began to pass by in the midst of peace and pio-
sperity. Having accompanied his pupil and son-in-law
Velasquez to Madrid in that same year, he spent the next
two years in mingling with artists and men of letters, and
enjoying the striking achievements and rising fortunes ot
his young relative. On his return to Seville he resigned
himself to the pleasures and pursuits of literature. His
brush was laid aside; his table was made the rendezvous
for all the intellectual among the citizens; he found a rehned
amusement in the composition of occasional poems ; and in
1649, after several years of congenial labour, he gave to the
world the fruits of his extensive reading and ripe experience
in his most important work, the treatise On the Art of
Painting. His death took place in 1654.
The above-mentioned book of Pacheco, though pedantic
in its style, prolix in its plan, and absurd in many of its
speculations, contains much curious information, and is an
invaluable authority on the history of Spanish art. It has
never been reprinted, and is now exceedingly scarce.
(Stirling’s Artists of Spain.)
PACHETE, a district of British India, presidency of
Bengal, lying between N. Eat. 22. 56. and 23. 54., E.
Long. 85. 46. and 87. 10., is bounded on the N. by the
districts of Ramgurh and Beerbhoom ; E. by that of Ban-
coora; S.by those of Pooralia, Barabhoom, and Singhbhoom;
and W. by that of Chota Nagpore. Length, from N.E. to
S.W., 105 miles; breadth, 95 miles; area, 4792 square
miles. The surface is occupied in many parts by hills of
inconsiderable size, covered with forests and jungles; but
in some places there are plains and valleys of small size,
in which the soil is cultivated, rice being the principal crop
raised. Much of the ground that now lies waste was for¬
merly tilled ; and its present neglected condition arises from
the habit the people have of cultivating the land without in¬
termission as long as it will yield anything, and then letting
it lie fallow for a long time. The rocks of the district belong
mostly to the primitive formation ; and iron and coal are the
principal minerals. The chief rivers are, the Damooda, Soo-
bunreka, and Cossye, with their tributaries. The principal
place in the district is Pachete, which can hardly be con¬
sidered a town. It stands 6 miles from the right bank of
the Damooda, 150 miles N.W. of Calcutta. Pop. (1855)
of the district, along with that of Barabhoom, 772,340.
PACHOMIUS, or Pachumius, the founder of the first
organized monastic community, was born in the 1 hebaid in
292. He was educated in paganism; but the events of
his early manhood began to lead him towards a new reli¬
gious life. At the age of twenty he was impressed into the
military service, and, in company with his fellow-recruits,
was conveyed down the Nile in a transport. During a
halt at Thebes some Christians, paying a kindly visit to the
soldiers, explained to him their religious views and senti¬
ments. He was converted, and forthwith made a vow to
consecrate his days to the service of the true God. Ac¬
cordingly, no sooner had an arduous campaign come to a
close, than, hastening back to his native country, he received
baptism, and began the great work of his career. It now
became the aim of Pachomius to apply the principles which
regulated the life of a single anchorite to the life of an or¬
ganized society ; or, in other words, to seek the salvation of
men by withdrawing them from the depraving habits of the
world, and subjecting them to a system of religious disci¬
pline. Accordingly, Tabenna, an island of the Nile in U pper
Egypt, was selected for the site of the monastery; three
disciples became the germ of the society ; many more began
to join ; and the first specimen of a regular cloister was soon
presented to the world. (See Monachism.) The founder
himself, in the capacity of abbot, continued to govern and
PAG
extend the influence of the rapidly-flourishing institution,
till a pestilence cut him off, about 348. The extant works
which pass under the name of Pachomius, and which con¬
sist of Regulce Monastics, Monita, Prcecepta, and Litercc,
are contained in Galland’s Bibliotheca Patrum, vol. iv.,
1768.
PACIFIC OCEAN, sometimes called the South Sea
(Fr. Ocean-Austral, Mer-du-Sud, or Grand Ocean
Pacifique; Germ. Sudsee, Grosser-Ocean, or Stilles-
Meer), the largest of the great divisions of the water on
the surface of the globe, stretches from the west coast of
America to the east coasts of Asia and Australia, and from
Behring’s Strait on the N. to the Antarctic Circle on the
S. It is separated from the other oceans by distinct boun¬
daries on all sides but in the south, where it is divided
from the Antarctic Ocean by the Antarctic Circle, from the
Atlantic by an imaginary line drawn from Cape Horn to
that circle, and from the Indian Ocean by a similar line,
from South-West Cape in Tasmania to the same circle.
It occupies nearly one-half of the entire surface of the
earth, an area greater than that of all the dry land together;
being estimated at more than 70,000,000 square miles.
Its narrowest portion is in the north, where the continents
of Asia and America, at Behring’s Strait, approach within
forty miles of each other; while further south the two
continents recede to a great distance. Between the ex¬
tremities of the peninsulas of Kamtschatka in Asia and
Alashka in America the distance is more than 1200 miles.
At the northern tropic the breadth of the ocean is about
8500 miles; at the equator it attains its greatest width,
upwards of 10,000; and at the tropic of Capricorn it dimi¬
nishes again to 8200 miles. The outline of the Pacific
differs from that of the other great oceans in nothing more
remarkably than in the absence of those great inland seas
and gulfs, which in many parts of the others extend far
into the heart of the continents. There are, indeed, espe¬
cially along the Asiatic coasts, several portions of this ocean
separated by peninsulas and chains of islands from the vast
central expanse of water; but the Pacific has no inlets to
be compared to the Mediterranean Sea, or Gulf of Mexico
in the Atlantic, nor even to the Red Sea or Persian Gulf
in the Indian Ocean. Throughout the whole of the eastern
boundary of the Pacific the general character of the coast
is high and bold, the lofty chains of the Andes and Rocky
Mountains rising at no great distance from the sea. From
Cape Horn northwards to the borders of Chili there extend
a multitude of small islands, and the coast is indented by a
number of bays and fiords. Farther north these islands
cease, and the indentations, though numerous, are not of
any size, as far as the northern extremity ot South Ame¬
rica. There the Gulf of Panama washes the inside of the
curve formed by the Isthmus of Darien, 30 miles broad,
which here is the only barrier between the Atlantic and
Pacific oceans. Beyond this, the North Ameiican coast
stretches in a north-westerly direction, without any remaik-
able features, as far as the long and narrow Gulf of Cali¬
fornia, the greatest of the inlets on the eastern shore of the
Pacific, formed by the peninsula of the same name, which
stretches southward parallel to the mainland. In the higher
northern latitudes of this coast, as in the higher southern,
the same features are discernible. Vancouver’s Island is
the most southerly of a series of islands similar to those
that fringe the Patagonian coast; and in this region, as in
that, the land is penetrated by numerous arms of the sea.
With the peninsula of Alashka, stretching south-west from
the American continent, a different character makes its ap¬
pearance on the shores of the Pacific. Along the whole of
the Asiatic coast there are ranges of islands, of greater or
less size, which lie at a considerable distance from the
land, and separate large portions of water from the rest of
the ocean. The Aleutian Islands stretch westward from
39
Pacific
Ocean.
40
PAG
PAG
Pacific
Ocean.
Alashka, and terminate not far from Kamtschatka. North
of them lies that portion of the Pacific called the Sea of
Behring, or Kamtschatka Sea. The peninsula of Kamt¬
schatka projects southwards from the Asiatic mainland, and,
along with the Kurile Islands, that stretch to the south-west,
forms the Sea of Okhotsk. The Sea of Japan lies between
the Japan Islands and the continent; and the Yellow Sea is
formed by the peninsula of Corea stretching to the south.
Farther south, the Chinese Sea is, separated from the Pa¬
cific by the island of Formosa and the Philippines; so that
there is hardly any portion of the Asiatic coast that is not
more or less protected from the Pacific by a barrier of
islands. South of the Philippines the ocean washes the
Moluccas and the north-east coasts of Papua, communicating
by many channels with the Indian Ocean. The Solomon
Islands and the New Hebrides inclose between them and
the Australian coast a portion of the Pacific called the
Coral Sea; but the east coast of Australia has not any
remarkable capes or bays. 1 he peculiar nature ol the
western shores of the Pacific seems to be due in a great
measure to volcanic action; since all the chains of islands
from Kamtschatka to New Zealand contain either active
volcanoes, or evident traces of the former existence of such.
Besides the islands already noticed lying near the shores
of the ocean, the Pacific contains an immense number of
others far removed from any continent. A vast extent of
water, however, including the northern, eastein, and soul i-
ern portions of the ocean, an area far exceeding that of the
Atlantic, contains hardly any islands, the only impoitant
group being the Galapagos, which lie directly under t e
equator, 700 miles west of South America. In the central
and western parts of the Pacific the islands are so thickly
scattered, chiefly in groups, that they are sometimes con¬
sidered a separate division of the globe, under the name o
Polynesia. The Ladrone, Caroline, and Sandwich islands
are the principal groups north of the equator; to the south,
where the islands are more numerous, lie the Marquesas,
Society, Navigator’s, and Friendly islands,, besides many
others, singly and in groups. The large islands of New
Zealand lie in the Southern Pacific, S.E. of Australia.
Notwithstanding the vast area of the Pacific, and the extent
of the coasts that it washes, but little of the river water of
the world finds its way into this ocean. The great moun¬
tain range that divides the waters of the American con¬
tinent is so near the shores of the Pacific, that not more
than one-fifth of the area of the continent is watered by
the affluents of this ocean. The only rivers of any size
that enter the ocean from the east are the Rio Colorado,
falling into the Gulf of California, and the Columbia River
in Oregon, falling into the Pacific, to the south of Van¬
couver’s Island. In Asia, there are three large rivers that
fall into the Pacific—the Amoor, in Mongolia and Man-
chooria; and the Yantse-kiang and the Hoang-ho, in China;
but the area watered by these, and by a few smaller streams,
does not exceed one-seventh of the whole of Asia. 1 ieie
are no rivers of any size on the eastern coast of Australia,
as the mountains that divide the waters approach there
within a short distance of the sea. The Pacific, as well as
the other great oceans of the world, is subject to regu ar
winds; and these are less variable in then continuance ant
limits in this ocean than in the Atlantic. I he N. • ra e
wind prevails throughout the ocean between the ti an
twenty-third degrees of north latitude. At different seasons,
however, the northern limit varies from 20. to 27., and tie
southern from 1. to 11. The boundaries of the o. .
trade-wind are also different at different seasons, vaiying
in the N. from 5. N. to 1. S. Lat., and in the S. from 20.
to 25. S. Their mean extent is from the equator to
21. S. Between these two regions of the trade-winds
there is a belt of about five degrees in breadth under the
influence of varying winds and calms, and frequently visited
Pacioli
by violent storms of lightning and rain. For a considerable
distance from the coasts both of the American and also ot
the Asiatic and Australian mainlands the influence ot the
trade-winds is not felt, and the breezes in these parts are
very irregular. The currents of the Pacific have not
the same velocity or regularity as those of the Atlantic.
There are, however, several worthy of notice, though com¬
paratively little has been ascertained respecting them.
South of the 33d or 34th degree of south latitude, a strong
current flows from the S.W., with a velocity varying from
10 to 35 miles a day. Meeting the South American
continent near the island of Chiloe, this stream divides into
two parts, the one running round Cape Horn into the At¬
lantic, and the other, called the Peruvian current, flowing
northwards along the coasts of Chili and Peru. This giea
body of cold water exercises a cooling influence on the
climate of Peru, and extends as far north as Cape Blanco,
where it turns to the west, and joins the great equatorial
current moving from east to west in the southern region
of the trade-winds. A south-western branch of this current
washes the shores of Australia, and circles round between
it and New Zealand. The region of the variable winds
and calms is occupied by a current flowing from west to
east; and the northern region of trade-winds, like the
southern, has one which flows in an opposite direction.
The latter, after being turned towards the north by the
Philippine Islands, washes the coasts of Japan, and flows
partly northward through Behring’s Strait, and partly east¬
ward to America, whence it circles round on its former
course. The calm portions of the ocean in the centre ot
the revolving current in the North Pacific, and of the
smaller one between Australia and New Zealand, form the
principal whaling grounds in the Pacific. I he tides ot t le
Pacific are of small size. The Pacific Ocean was discovered
in 1513 by Vasco Nunez de Balboa, the Spanish governor
of Darien, who crossed the isthmus, and obtained a view of
this vast ocean. In 1521 Magellan entered it by rounding
Cape Horn, and gave it the name ot Pacific, on account ot
the calm weather he enjoyed after entering it, in contrast
with the storms he had previously met with. This name,
though not very appropriate, has continued to be that by
which the ocean is most generally known. I his vast ex¬
panse of water is not only very favourable to the commerce
of the countries adjacent to it, but, by its productive
fisheries, and its numberless islands, rich in many kinds ot
produce, adds in no small degree to the wealth ot the
world, and contributes to the necessities and to the luxuries
of mankind.
PACIOLI, or Pacioltjs, Lucas. See Algebra.
PACTOLUS, a rivulet of Lydia, rises inMount Tnnolus,
and flows in a northerly direction into the Hermus. The
particles of gold which it occasionally brought down in its
mud gave it a celebrity in ancient fable. (See Midas.)
PACUVIUS, Marcus, an old Roman dramatist, was
the nephew of Ennius, and was born at Brundusium about
219 b.c. Repairing to Rome, he soon gained general es¬
teem for his skill both in poetry and painting. One of his
pictures was hung up in the temple of Hercules in the
Forum Boarium at Rome, and many years af terwards elicited
the commendation of the elder Pliny. But the best fruits
of his genius were those tragedies which, for eloquence and
refinement, rivalled all their predecessors on the Latin stage.
Not content with merely translating, as was the custom with
the early Roman dramatists, the plays of the Greeks, he
exercised his own artistic ingenuity upon the borrowed
materials, and even wrote purely original dramas upon the
history of his own nation. The closing years ot the long
life of Pacuvius were spent in the retirement of his native
town. There he was wont to entertain with generous
friendship his successful rival Accius ; and there he died, at
an advanced age, about 129 bc. The fragments of Pacu-
PAD
PAD
41
Padang
II
Padilla.
vius have been printed in Stephen’s Fragmenta Veterorum
Poetarum, Paris, 1564 ; and in Kolhe^ Poetarum Lain Sce-
nicorum Fragmenta, Leipsic, 1834.
PADANG, a town on the west coast of the island of
Sumatra, capital of a Dutch province of the same name ;
S. Lat. 0. 57., E. Long. 100. 20. It is built on a small
river, in a valley bordered by wild and rocky hills, and con¬
sists of several distinct portions. The quarter which is
farthest from the sea is chiefly inhabited by Chinese, w
carry on an active traffic. It is very populous ; and he
river is navigated by many neat boats. Almost all t e
houses in this part of the town contain shops. The quarter
inhabited bv Malays, which lies near the mouth of the river
is poor and wretched, consisting of huts built of bamboos
or the bark of trees. The European quarter is widely scat¬
tered over a plain to the N.W., and contains a few stone
houses but is chiefly built of wood and bamboos. Besides
some small chapels, the principal building in the place is a
laro-e and well-arranged ball-room. Until recently, 1 adang
was a very wretched place, but many new buildings and
improvements have been recently made. It is the seat of
the provincial governor, and of courts of law. In the vici¬
nity there are extensive marshes, and the town has the
reputation of being unhealthy. Pop. 10,000.
PADDINGTON, a parish in the county of Middlesex,
England, forming a suburb of London to the N.W. It
contains many fine streets, squares, and houses, and has
places of worship belonging to the Church of England, the
Baptists, Wesleyans, and other sects. The Great Western
Railway has a large and convenient station here. I he
Paddington Canal communicates on the one hand by the
Regent’s Canal with the Thames, and on the other by the
Grand Junction with the principal canals in England. Pop.
46,305.
PADERBORN, a town of Rhenish Prussia, govern¬
ment of Minden, province of Westphalia, stands at the
source of the Pader, 50 miles S. by W. of Minden. . It
is an ancient town, surrounded by walls, through which
there are five gates; and though pretty well built, it pre¬
sents a gloomy appearance. The cathedral, completed in
1143, is a large building with two handsome portals;
but among the monuments in the interior there are none
of much interest. Of the other churches, that of St Bar¬
tholomew is remarkable for its architecture. There is a
town-hall, a Roman Catholic theological college (occupy¬
ing the place of a former university), several schools, con¬
vents, infirmary, and other establishments. Starch, leather,
tobacco, beer, and brandy are made here ; and there is
some trade. Paderborn was made a bishopric by Charle¬
magne, being thus the oldest see in \'V estphalia. It was
subsequently a member of the Hanseatic League. Pop.
11,028.
PADIHAM, a town of England, county of Lancaster,
on the Calder, 4 miles W. of Burnley, and 15 E. of
Preston. It is small and not very well built; containing
a parish church with an old tower, and places of wor¬
ship for Methodists, Baptists, and Unitarians, as well as
several schools. In the vicinity there are coal mines;
and the manufacture of cotton goods is actively carried
on. Three annual fairs are held here. Pop. 4509.
PADILLA, Juan Lopez de, a famous Spanish patriot,
was the eldest son of the commendator of Castile, and was
born in Toledo towards the close of the fifteenth century.
He grew up a brave, high-souled, and patriotic citizen, and
only waited for an opportunity to play a distinguished part
in the history of his country. This opportunity was soon
brought about by the series of events which followed the
accession of Charles V. to the crown of Spain. The entire
administration during the absence of the king was placed
in the hands of his Flemish favourites. A Flemish cardinal,
Adrian of Utrecht, held the regency; Flemish courtiers
vou. xv 11.
sold the offices of state to the highest bidders ; and Flemish
place-hunters, after a short and lucrative sojourn, carried
the wealth of Spain home to their own country. Incensed
at this system of oppressive misrule, the rich and powerful
cities of Castile laid before Charles, by the hands of their
deputies, a long list of grievances; and finding that their
claims were treated with silent neglect, they took up arms
in vindication of their rights in 1522. It was then that
Juan Lopez de Padilla appeared in the arena of history as
the leader of the citizens of Toledo, and the most zealous
promoter of the cause of the general insurrection. His first
act was to form the deputies of the several towns into an
association under the name of the “ Holy Junta, which
should take charge of the general interests of the people.
Then proceeding at the head of a body of troops to Torde-
sillas, the residence of Joanna, the imbecile grandmother
of the king, he succeeded in gaining admittance into the
town, obtaining an audience of the queen, and exacting
from her a sanction to do whatever should be necessary for
the public welfare. His next enterprise was to strip the
regent of the authority and ensigns of government. He
marched to Tordesillas, the seat of the regency, seized upon
the treasury books, the archives, and the seals of the king¬
dom, and left Adrian in the position of a private individual.
At this juncture, however, the over-arrogant and injudicious
measures of the Junta began to check the successes, and
led to the ruin of Padilla. That body, by inserting among
their plans of reformation a direct attack upon the power
of the nobility, brought upon themselves the armed hostility
of the warlike and chivalrous aristocracy of Spain. Not
content with one indiscretion, they intrusted the defence
and maintenance of their cause to Don Pedro de Giron,
an individual who had no recommendation but his high
birth. The consequence was, that the army of the nobility
was allowed, without opposition, to attack and capture the
important town of Tordesillas, and thus to inflict a deadly
blow' upon the success of the revolution. Again did Pa¬
dilla assume the chief command, and, by the capture of
Torrelobaton and other towns, maintain the cause of the
Junta. But again did the Junta themselves, by granting a
suspension of arms, betray that cause. At the end of the
truce, Padilla found that so many of his soldiers had de¬
parted to their homes that he could not face the advancing
enemy. He retreated towards Toro ; the enemy overtook
him on a piece of disadvantageous ground near Villalar on
the 23d April 1522; and all his desperate measures and
chivalrous valour could not prevent his fatigued and dis¬
heartened recruits from yielding before the dashing charge
of the royalist cavalry. The hopes of the revolutionists were
thus irretrievably ruined. Padilla, resolving not to survive
the frustration of Spanish freedom, fought till the very last;
but he was carried, captive and wounded, frona the held to
brave a public execution. On the next day, after address¬
ing to his wife and his native city respectively, two letters
full of tender devotion and triumphant heroism, he bravely
laid down his life for his country. -
Padilla, Dona Maria Pacheco de, the wife of the pre¬
ceding, proved herself a worthy mate to the leader of the
forces of the “ Holy Junta.” During her husband s life she
rendered a bold and active assistance to his warlike enter¬
prise. On his death, she seized the standard of freedom as
it fell from his lifeless hand ; and although all the other in¬
surgents were cowering in submission before the victorious
royalists, she resolved to make Toledo the last citadel of
liberty, and to defend it against the whole country. The
commanding spirit of the heroine immediately brought into
simultaneous action all the devices that could awaken
sympathy for herself, or interest in behalf of Spain. She
rallied the citizens around her, and kept their enthusiasm
ever burning by constantly calling to their remembrance
the deeds and death of her husband. She gave a sacred
Padilla.
f
42 PAD
Padron character to the contest by using crucifixes instead of co¬
ll lours, aftd employing the revenues of the cathedral to defray
Padua, expenses. She was also continually despatching letters
' *■ ^ and emissaries to implore assistance from the other cities of
Castile, and the French general in Navarre. Thus did
Dona Maria for several months, in the face of a powerful
government, hold the city of Toledo. At length her influ¬
ence, which could not be overcome by external force, began
to be undermined by internal dissension. The troops,
though victorious in several sallies, became hopeless of
ultimate success; the mob grew impatient of the rigours
of a blockade ; the clergy took advantage of this disaffection
to accuse the heroine of using witchcraft; and the. noble
woman was driven out by her ungrateful fellow-citizens.
Yet Dona Maria made a becoming exit off the stage of
history. Retreating into the citadel, she held out for four
months longer ; and not until she had been reduced to the
last extremity did she retire into Portugal to pass the rest
of her life. (Robertson’s Charles V.) ~
PADRON, a town of Spain, province of Coruna, Ga¬
licia, on the Sar, near its confluence with the Ulla, 50 miles
S. of Coruna. It contains a cathedral, a court-house,
schools, and a prison. The body of St James is said to
have landed at Padron, after miraculously sailing from
Joppa in seven days. It was on this account a favourite
resort of pilgrims. Pop. 6108, employed in farming and in
the making of woollen and linen stuffs.
PADSTOW, a town of England, county of Cornwall,
on the estuary of the Camel, 26 miles N. by E. of Fal¬
mouth. It is an old-fashioned fishing-town, and contains an
old Gothic church, a custom-house, and some other public
buildings. Ship-building is the business chiefly carried on.
Corn, slate, and other minerals are exported. Pop. 2224.
PADUA, a province of the Lombardo-Venetian king¬
dom, in the government of Venice, is bounded on the N.
by the province of Treviso, E. by that of Venice, S. by
the Polesine, W. by Verona, and N.W. by Vicenza. It ex¬
tends over 835 English square miles, and is divided into
eio-ht districts, containing 104 communes and 771 villages.
Its population, w'hich in 1834 was 286,800, in 18o7 had
risen to more than 318,000 persons. The land is an ex¬
tensive plain, except on the S.W. side, where the volcanic
group of the Euganean Hills rises. It is chiefly diained
by the Brenta, the Musone, the Bacchiglione, and the
Adige which skirts it on the S.; and has numerous canals,
many of which are for irrigation, and some for navigation.
The fertility of the soil is very great, and agriculture is
well conducted; wine, wheat, maize, rice, oil, great vaiiety
of fruit, sheep, poultry, &c., are copiously produced. Hemp,
flax, and silk are also extensively grown, and afford some
employment to manufacturers, but they are chiefly expot ted
in a raw state. The district of the Euganean Hills has nu¬
merous mineral springs ; those of Abano, only 6 miles fiom
Padua, are much resorted to by invalids.
Padua (the anc. Patavium, Ital. Padova), the capital
of the province of the same name, and one of the most
ancient cities in Italy, is situated on the River Bacchighone,
in 45. 23. 40. N. Eat., and 11. 46. 38. E. Long. It stands
in the midst of a garden-like plain, and is connected with
the Lagunes by the Large Canal, with the River Adige by
the Monselice Canal, and with Venice, Verona, and Milan
by railway.
Legendary tradition attributed the foundation of Pata¬
vium to Antenor, after the fall of Troy:—
“ Antenor potuit, mediis elapsus Achivis,
Illyricos penetrare sinus, atque intima tutus
Regna Liburnorum, et fontes superare Timavi . . .
Hie tamen ille urbem Patavi, sedesque locavit
Teucrorum . ..
. . Nunc placida compostus pace quiescit.”
^Eneid, i. 243.
A large skeleton, grasping a sword in his bony hand,
PAD
found in a marble sarcophagus discovered in 1274, was Padua,
supposed to be that of the Trojan founder. Patavium was V-’*
the capital of the Veneti, and at an early period was so
flourishing that, according to Strabo, it could send an army
of 120,000 men into the field. The Patavians were con¬
stantly at war with, and successfully withstood, the Cisalpine
Gauls; and in 301 B.C. they also defeated Cleonymus the
Lacedaemonian, who had unexpectedly landed at the mouth
of the Medoacus (the modern Brenta), and attacked them.
Patavium fell eventually under the power of Rome, though
it seems to have retained a semblance of independence. At
the time of Strabo it was still the first city in Upper Italy ;
but it was gradually eclipsed by Aquileia and Mediolanum.
Its prosperity came suddenly to an end in 4o2, when it was
taken and destroyed by Attila; and in 601 it was again
taken and burnt to the ground by Agilulf, King of the
Longobards. It rose, however, from its ashes; and in the
tenth century it had already become, as it has continued
ever since, one of the most important cities of Upper ItaL.
In 1164 Padua formed, with Verona, Vicenza, and Tre¬
viso, a league for the protection of their liberties again.>t
Frederic L Barbarossa; in 1167 it joined the great Lom¬
bard League ; and by the peace of Constance in 1183 had
at length its liberties acknowledged. In 1239 Eccelino da
Romano made himself master of it, and after having piac-
tised unheard-of cruelties, in 1256 he was driven out and de¬
feated by a crusade formed against him by most of the towns
of Upper Italy. After a period of stormy independence,
Padua in 1337 fell under the sway of the house of Car¬
rara, who held it till the year 1405, when it was taken by
the republic of Venice, with which, in 1 <97, it passed into
the hands of Austria by the treaty of Campoformido.
The modern city contains upwards of 50,000 inhabitants,
and is the see of a bishop, and the residence of the civil
and criminal courts of first instance of the government of
Venice. It is surrounded with walls and ditches, and de
fended by several bastions ; it has many churches rich in
works of art, many magnificent public buildings and old
palaces, and several fine squares ; but the streets aie gene¬
rally narrow, and most of the houses are supported by long
rows of pointed arches. Its university, one of the oldest
in Italy, enjoyed great celebrity as early as the beginning
of the thirteenth century; and some of the greatest
medical names in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
are among its professors. Galileo was for many years its
professor of mathematics. There are five faculties—theo-
loo-y, law, medicine, philosophy, and mathematics, with 46
professorships, and from 1200 to 1800 students. In conse¬
quence of disturbances that took place on the 9th of Feb-
ruary 1848, the university was closed on the 15th of that
month by the Austrian military authority, and was not re-open¬
ed till 1850. Connected with the university, but at a dis¬
tance from it, is a library of more than 100,000 vols.and 1500
MSS. The Episcopal and Benedictine libraries have more than
50,000 vols. each; and the Capitular library, of which P etrarch
was one of the founders, 10,000 vols. and many MSS. There
are connected with the university a botanical gai den, founded
by the Venetian senate in 1543, and containing some of the
oldest specimens of exotic trees and plants in Europe ; an
astronomical observatory, founded in 1769; four clinical
schools for medicine, surgery, midwifery, and diseases
of the eye; and a veterinary and agricultural college.
The Palazzo della Municipality or town-hall, erected in
the twelfth century, is a vast building upon open arches,
and contains a hall 267 feet long, and 89 in height and
width. The chapel of St Maria delT Arena, erected by
the Scrovegno family, contains the most perfect and genuine
frescoes by Giotto. The church of St Antonio is remark¬
able for the richness and beauty of its internal decorations.
The Prato delle Valle is an irregular open space, in which
are numerous statues of great men, chiefly natives of Padua.
43
PAD
Padula Livy, and Thrasea Paetus, who was put to death by
II Nero, were born at Patavium; and modern Padua has
Paestum. j3een ^ kirth-place of many distinguished philosophers
and literary characters.
PADULA, a town of Naples, province of Principato
Citra, 6 miles S.E. of La Sala. It contains several churches,
and an hospital. Near the town are the remains of the once
famous monastery of St Lorenzo, which was destroyed by
the French. Pop. 9000.
PAD US, a river of ancient Italy. (See Po.)
PACAN (midv, Trcuijwv, and ircuw), a hymn or song ori¬
ginally sung in honour of Apollo, and deriving its name, as
is generally supposed, from Psean, the god of healing, who,
although alluded to in Homer as a distinct deity, was in all
probability identical with Apollo. At all events, the name
and office of healing after Homer’s time were transferred
to Apollo; he was invoked by the cry tfie Ilcudv (iEsch.
sty. 146; Soph. (E'd. Tyr. 154) ; and in the choral chants
sung to his honour the burden was irj or Id Ilaidv (Athe-
naeus, xv., p. 696, &c.) The paean was invariably a loud
and joyous song expressive of hope and confidence. It was
sung after any great deliverance, as a plague (7/. i. 473), or
a battle {II. xxii. 391). The Greek troops occasionally
sung it as a war-song previous to an engagement (Xen.
Anab. i. 8, § 17), which, if we may trust the statement of
the scholiast on Thucydides, i. 50, was sacred to Ares or
Mars ; while that engaged in after the victory was addressed
to Apollo. Other gods, and even mortals, had paeans occa¬
sionally sung to their honour. Thus the Lacedaemonians
sang a paean to Poseidon (Xen. Hell. iv. 7, § 4), and the
Greek army to Zeus (Xen. Anab. iii. 2, § 9). Aratus sang
paeans to the Macedonian Antigonus (Plat. Cleom. 16); a
similar practice was employed at Delphi in honour of the
Macedonian Craterus; and the Rhodians chanted the
triumphant song to the praise of Ptolemaeus I. of Egypt
{Athen. xv., p. 696). (See Muller’s Dorians, and Hist, of
Greek Literature^)
PiEDO-BAPTISTS (from Trats, a child, and /
baptize), those who maintain that baptism should be
administered during infancy. (See Baptism, and Bap¬
tists.)
PASTUM, or Posidonia, an ancient city ofLucania,
was situated near the shore of the Psestanus Sinus {Gulf of
Salerno), about 5 miles S.E. from the mouth of the Silarus
{Sele). The facts of its primitive history are very few. A
colony of Greeks from Sybaris were probably its founders; it
was originally called Posidonia (“ the city of Poseidon or
Neptune”); the magnificent remains of Grecian architecture
that are still seen on its site indicate that it rose under its
first inhabitants to opulence and splendour; and we infer
that it passed, along with the neighbouring colonies, into the
power of the Lucanians, and afterwards into that of the
Romans. Not much greater is the historical importance of
Paestum during the period which followed its subjugation to
Rome. During the second Punic war it had become one
of the Colonies Latince ; in the time of Strabo the stag¬
nation of a rivulet that flowed past the walls had rendered
the inhabitants unhealthy ; during the period between the
fifth and tenth centuries the town is noticed by eccle¬
siastical historians as the seat of a bishopric; and imme¬
diately afterwards it fell into ruin and desolation under
the devastations of the Saracens. It was not until the
eighteenth century that Paestum attained its chief celebrity
on account of its splendid architectural remains. These
stand on a level uninhabited plain by the sea-shore, and
are descried by the mariner from afar as he sails across
t e Gulf of Salerno. 1 he principal structures are two
nexastyle peripteral buildings, which, with the exception
o the temple of Corinth, are considered to be the most
..evere and massive specimens of Doric architecture now
extant. ] he finer and older of the two, which is known
PAG
by the name of the temple of Neptune, is hypaethral or
open to the sky, and occupies a space of 180 feet long jjez
by 80 wide. The other, differently called the temple of Paganini.
Vesta and of Ceres, is 108 feet in length by 48 in breadth, i ^
There is also another edifice which is supposed to have been
a basilica. The remaining vestiges of the city consist of
the ruins of an amphitheatre, many private houses, the
walls and the gates, interspersed occasionally with the
famous Paestan roses, which were celebrated by Ovid,
Virgil, and other Latin poets, and which still, in their
wild state, flower twice a year, and shed a surpassing fra¬
grance. (Swinburne’s Travels into the Two Sicilies in 1777-
78-79-80, in 2 vols. 4to, London, 1783-85 ; and Wilkins’
Magna Grcecia, fob, Cambridge, 1807.)
PAEZ, Pedro, a famous Spanish missionary, was born
at Olmedo in New Castile in 1564. Having entered the
Order of Jesus, he devoted himself to foreign missions, and
repaired to Goa in 1588. His toils and sufferings, how¬
ever, in the cause of proselytism did not commence until,
in the course of a year, he was despatched along with a fellow¬
missionary to Abyssinia. The vessel was boarded by pi¬
rates off the coast of Arabia; he was doomed to hard labour
during a captivity of seven years at Sana, the capital of
Yemen ; the next few years were spent in sojourning at
Diu and Camboya; and it was only in 1603 that he reached
his destination, the Abyssinian town of Massowa. Paez now
set himself to spread Christianity throughout the country.
Within a year he had made himself a proficient in Geez,
the chief of the native dialects; had translated into that
tongue the catechism of Marcos George ; and had by these
means been enabled to instruct in Christianity several. Abys-
sinan children. This vigorous beginning soon led to import¬
ant results. The success of the missionary was quickly
known throughout the country ; he was summoned to preach
before the court, and so effectual was his sermon, that the
king Za-Denghel professed himself a convert, and wrote
to Europe for more missionaries. Even although this last
act led to a civil war, and cost the king his life in 1604, the
influence of Paez continued to increase. The successor to
the throne, Melek-Seghed, recalled him to court, and pre¬
sented him with a piece of ground at Gorgora, for the pur¬
pose of building a convent for his order, and a palace lor
himself. At length the king and the nobility were induced
to abjure paganism and embrace Christianity. The mis¬
sionary was rejoicing at the success of his labours, when he
was seized with a fever, which brought his life to a close in
1612. Paez was the first European who visited the Abai,
the supposed main branch of the Nile, although this honour
was afterwards claimed by Bruce the traveller.
PAGAN, Blaise-Francois Comte de. (See Forti¬
fication, § Rampart or Toivn Fortification^)
PAGANINI, Nicolo, the most distinguished violinist
of his time, was born at Genoa on the 18th of February
1784. His father was a small shopkeeper, and fond of
music. Nicolo’s musical talent manifesting itself in his
infancy, his father resolved that it should receive proper
cultivation ; and therefore placed him under Costa, chief
violinist at Genoa, with whom he studied the violin for six
months with great assiduity. Wlien twelve years old he
performed in public, at Genoa, variations upon the air La
Carmagnola, and was received with rapturous applause.
His father then placed him under Alessandro Rolla, at
Parma, and afterwards under Ghiretti, for instructions in in¬
strumental composition. He laboured incessantly to per¬
fect his violin-playing ; and having accidentally met with
Locatelli’s ninth work, FArte di Nuova Modulazione, de¬
voted himself to the study of that music, full of excessive
difficulties and novel effects. It seems probable that he
was also acquainted with that very extraordinary book,
Hortulus Chelicus, &c., published in 1688 by the German
violinist Walther, who held an office at the electoral court
44
PAG
Paganism of Mayenoe. In Wajthe* book ^
g [| passages in single and double stops » ™10 . the muffled
Paggi- hens, of the nightingale, o g ’ The writer
harp, and of the bagpipe, ^'’^t^^Q^sVwork but wanting
of this article has a ^Py^^f^Tni began his profes-
the last seven pages. In 1801 J » Romefereceived from
sional travels in Italy ; and 1801
thp Pone the Order of the Golden bpur. between
h rl iftOa he studied the guitar for nearly four years. He
“Id Germany tt828>gand gave his first concert at Pam
on^the 9th Mich 1831 and was everywh- heard w,th
rSI="tt.b’.=.f.T5-"€
ThTcredhors o'f the speculators
him, and he was condemned to pay ’ ^ When that
warrant was issued for s,eiz‘ Swag Linp- at Nice, after
been carefully describe heatre fn Frankfort-on-the-
master and directoi o vinlini«t excited much
Maine. His great -P™" nee aLTa nlber of absurd
envy and jealousy, a d h ainsl him, especially in
and atroaous calummes direct o=.es of ^ ambassa.
do” andtnbhe Stionaries in disproof of the accusations
of his enemies, and reduced them to silence. Several spu
Milan, Ricordi; Pans, Paci ^ ibid^ 3 Quatuors
guitare, Op. ’vio oncdle, Op. 4, Milan,
pour violon, alto guitare, e Milan, Ri-
Ricordi; Pans, Richault. 3 Idem, tap , ^ ^
^PAGANISM is a general term applied to all forms of
PAGAINioi b Christianity, Judaism, or
religious worship that d Her rorntyaienj [0 ’he lerm hea.
Mohammedanism.is t^ ^
themsm. Christian writers to designate those
; Christianity became the prevailing religion of
who, after Christian y Roman faith. (Isido-
the towns suH adhaed t These yMpaai.or occu-
rUS’.rif the into which the country people of the
^rwere dnided as e ■ ^e^Tul-
^^m^w^-ontin^ddowm^^'S
times of the Roman empire, we ’bifliiences of civilization
position, excluded from the superi^ and celebrated festi-
known to the towns, and pr >. ^ famous was
vals quite peculiar to themselve . Gradually the term
their annual festival of the Pag ana • heathenish
pagani came to signify those who adhered to heathen
observances, or to the worship of false g° ^ .
PAGGI, Giovanni Battista, an /tahan artist
born at Genoa in 1554. In addition to his passion P
torial art, he attained early to a high cele ntJ “ ^ werg
philosophy, and history. His first lessons in p s
received from Cambiaso ; and he was gradlJf yhi cof,untry
notice in his art, when he was compelled to flee , y
for homicide. He took uP his residence in Florence whe^e
he remained for twenty years, executing pictures g
merit. His works were characterized by dignity and no
PAG
, . y -tb a erace and delicacy which brought Pagnin
““tS hTpTctenstththe”h“ch Am
ihe cloister of “h^e ^XTesTt
^Tl&^io/obS’hTsre^ to Gefin .600,
Pavia. v ^ i rpvive the declining art of his native
and he ^and Rubens had just visited that place, and
l°ft behind them some of their masterpieces, which pro¬
left behind tneni pQfT0.; and led to the production
yoked the competdion ^ ^ > f h Innocents» and
of his best work^ the Slaughter exe.
the two l-'^^^e^ette 0 further his design in reviv-
cuted in 1606. ihe Deu^ , d in l6o7 a USefol com¬
ing Geneose .art> PaS» P f ng painters, entitled
pendmm, designed for the u. ^p. f * This distjn.
JJiffinizione o si a Division leaving behind him
was born at Lucca i rbaldaic Arabic, and par-
Slrif Hi:-4 vulgar LnshLn
of'the ^Scriptures, he pronounced it very inaccurate,^and
undertook to make “ his version was printed at
Under the patronage o Leo X-, of
mmimm.
ment from the Greek, ant was die
“e of lfim a^d his translations
'S tlfwn. ‘ I. rof - ;-^efSs37
by 6 in breadth; aiea, 1 -q tonrlincr sheen and
SaB The’ r»» Sf PagPo had,
idol, or abode of God), is j-„Qtori to the worship of
wWthyrnmigi. M
(often called pagoda) “of2 st„reyed towers,
temples, or taas, as they call them, are loity, s j
gradUh thedsiimmith,eaSchlnstorey ornamented by a projecting
Chines^f structures, w’li be found described undtrNAtu™®.
The pagodas of Benares, Sianb URE § On In-
known. (See JUGGERNATH, and ARCHITECTURE, S
dian Structures.) _ , . rrnld or silver coin
The term pagoda is also applied to a g nrobablv
current in Hh/dustan, value from ^Jy
deriving its name from the images of the gods onain y
» E. ^ “h^ifMenler^
others presents a h^d rockyj t runs a chain of
is little known. Along the westt The
^^^"atterofwhich is exported in
.
PAH
P A I
45
Paine.
Pahlun- large quantities. The rajah of Pahang, though nominally
pore subject to the sovereign of Johore, ^virtually mdepen en .
Population variously estimated from o0,000 to 16,000. The
town of Pahang stands at the mouth of a river of the
same name, 135 miles N.E. of Malacca, /t is ch.efly
built of wood and bamboos, and has 8000 or 10,000 inhabi-
^ PAHLUNPORE, a small state of British India, under
the superintendence of the presidency of Bombay, lies
between N. Lat. 23. 57. and 24. 41., and between E. Lon
71 51 and72.45. It is bounded on the N. by the Rajpoot
principality of'Serohee, E. by KeyraUa and Daunta, S. by
the district of Puttun, and W. by Thurraid; area, 1850
square miles. The north-east part of the country is
occupied with mountains, from which the rivers Bunass,
Surruswuttee, and Numrodakee take their origin, and flow
into the Runn. The reigning family of Pahlunpore is of
Afo-han origin, and received this country from the Emperor
of Delhi towards the end of the seventeenth century. _ 1 his
state being in 1813 in a condition of anarchy and civil war,
the British government interfered to restore older. An ai-
rangement was accordingly made that Futteh Khan, the
rightful heir, should reign under the guardianship, during
his minority, of his uncle, Shumshere Khan. But the latter,
having failed to fulfil his agreement, was in 1817 de¬
prived of his authority; and Futteh Khan finding himself
unable to manage his affairs, a British agent was sent to
superintend the finances, but with no power to interfere,
except by recommendation, with the internal affairs of the
state. No tribute is paid to the British beyond the ex¬
penses of this agent, but L.5000 is paid to the Guicowar.
The average annual revenue is little less than L.30,000;
the expenditure, exclusive of the above tribute, L.20,000.
Pop. 130,000. The town of Pahlunpore stands on the
road between Neemuch and Deessa, 80 miles N. of
Ahmedabad. It is walled, and has some trade and manu¬
factures. Pop. estimated at 30,000.
PAIMBCEUF, a town of France, capital of an arron-
dissement of the same name, in the department of Loire-
Inferieure, stands on the left bank of the Loire, het e 3
miles broad, 24 miles W. of Nantes. The river is lined
with quays; and the town contains dockyards, a custom¬
house, school of navigation, and has a convenient harbour
for the largest vessels, formed by a mole 214 feet long.
The people are employed in ship-building, making bricks,
tiles, canvas, cordage, marine stores, and other articles; as
well as in the fisheries and the coasting trade. Steamers
ply daily to Nantes ; and large vessels generally discharge
their cargoes into lighters here. Pop. (1856) 4135.
PAINE, Thomas, a notorious political and deistical
writer, was the son of a Quaker, and was born at fhetford
in Norfolk in 1737. The early part of his career was marked
by a restless love of vicissitude. A scanty education had
scarcely been received, and his father’s trade of staymaking
had scarcely been learned, when he went out into the
world to seek his fortune. He shifted ceaselessly from
town to town ; divorced one wife after burying another;
and plied, according as necessity compelled him, the various
vocations of staymaker, sailor, exciseman, schoolmaster,
grocer, and tobacconist. In 1774 he was a garret writer
in London; and in the following year he arrived in Phila¬
delphia, a literary adventurer, with a letter of introduction
from Dr Franklin. Paine now began a new era of his
life by appearing upon the field of political controversy as
a defender of the rights of the American colonies. For
engaging in such a contest with spirit and success he was
well qualified both by disposition and training. His wea¬
pons were a rough, ready, and vigorous intellect; a coarse
and merciless wit; a stock of impudence with which he
could out-brave all the claims of propriety ; and a supply of
venomous ill-humour into which he could dip all the darts of
his satire. He begun the attack in January 1775 by publish- Paington.
ing Common Sense, a pamphlet which boldly sounded the |1
note of rebellion, and summoned the colonies to prepare Painswick
for separating themselves from the mother country. The v'—
stirring effect which this work produced, and the unpre¬
cedented popularity which it acquired, fairly involved the
author in the contest. As the great struggle for independ¬
ence proceeded, he found himself called upon, in a series of
papers called The Crisis, to console the Americans for any
check they might have encountered, and to ridicule the Bri¬
tish for any deed they might have done. All these services
were rewarded during the continuation of the war by the
office of clerk to the Committee for Foreign Affairs, and at
the conclusion of hostilities by a donation of 3000 dollars
and an estate near New Rochelle. The peace which fol¬
lowed between America and Great Britain was not the
proper element for a spirit that revelled in revolution and
misrule ; and accordingly, in no long time, Paine had begun
to look towards a new sphere of action. Repairing to Europe
in 1787 with the professed purpose of exhibiting a model
of an iron bridge, he commenced to incite and inflame
the insurrectionary feeling that was secretly growing in
England, and openly venting itself in France. For some
time he continued to pass between the two countries like
a firebrand, carrying the flame of rebellion from the one to
the other. At length, in 1792, his arraignment by the Bri¬
tish government on account of his seditious publication
The Rights of Man, forced him to flee to France, and to
play an active part in the bloody and undiscriminating re¬
volution which was raging there. Barely escaping the
guillotine on one occasion, and suffering imprisonment on
another, he was for several years a member of the French
National Convention. He brought his destructive labours
to a climax in 1794-5 by attempting, in his celebrated book
The Age of Reason, to overthrow Christianity, and intro¬
duce into religion the anarchy and disorder of his political
creed. From this time the influence and happiness of
Paine began simultaneously to decline. During the re¬
mainder of his stay in France he was fast falling into dis¬
repute, and yet he was afraid to set sail for the United
States lest he should be seized by British cruisers. On
his return to America in 1802, the decay of his fortunes
became still more apparent. His profane attacks upon
religion had alienated many of his political friends; his
growing worthlessness cooled the attachment of the few
that were left; and his insolent resistance of all interference,
repelled those strangers who would willingly have done
him service. The wretched old man was thus driven to
throw off all regard for his fellow-men, and consequently
all respect for himself. Thenceforth he lived alone in
lodgings, abandoning himself to sordid sloth, and deaden¬
ing the pangs of his awakening conscience, and the
uneasiness of his diseased body, with the stupor of
intoxication. His miserable condition was terminated
only by his death in June 1809. (Cheetham’s Life of
PCLITIC
PAiNGTON, a town of England, county of Devon,
at the head of Torbay, 6 miles N.N.E. of Dartmouth.
The parish church is an old building, containing a curious
stone pulpit. There are several other places of worship,
schools, and a reading-room. Large quantities of cider are
made in the vicinity. Pop. of parish, 2746.
PAINSWICK, a town of England, county of Glouces¬
ter stands on the southern slope of Sponebed Hill, near
the Slade Water, 6 miles S. of Gloucester. It is irregularly
built, and has an old church, several other places of worship,
schools, and benevolent institutions. A large number of
the inhabitants are employed in the manufacture of woollen
cloth ; and freestone quarries are worked in the vicinity.
Many Roman coins and antiquities have been found in the
neighbourhood. Pop. of parish, 3464.
46
PAINTING.
Painting. Painting is the art of conveying thought by the imitation
^ of things through the medium of form and colour, light and
Definition, shadow. Colour, and light and shadow, can by themselves
do little more than excite sensations of harmony and senti¬
ment, independently of action, passion, or story; but i
founded upon form, thoughts become clear, expressions ot
passion intelligible, and actions, gestures, and motions ot the
human frame defined and decided. Form therefore is t le
basis of painting, sculpture, architecture, and design of every
description. , ,
Any school of painting, therefore, which is established
unon a principle different from this, or which makes the sub¬
ordinate parts of colour, light, and shadow the principal law
of its practice instead of a component part, is in opposition
to the most celebrated schools in the world ; for the most
eminent both in Greece and in Italy, were indebted for their
celebrity and renown to the strict observance of the doctrine
here enunciated. In Greece, the schools of Sicyon, Corinth,
Athens and Rhodes, and in Italy, those of Pisa, Florence,
Rome, and Bologna, were the most important, the most use¬
ful, and the most intellectual; and in all these form consti¬
tuted the great and fundamental law of their practice. But
in Venice, colour took the lead ; it predominated too in Hol¬
land and Flanders ; and it has always reigned, to the sacn-
fice of common sense, in Britain. Yet for sound and phi o-
sophical views of art, as a vehicle of passion orotmoral nation¬
al influence, neither of these schools can be referred to, with
the same conviction or confidence with which all nations can
refer to the former great sources of sense, principle, and
Origin of ^ In what country Painting first originated, is nearly as dif-
painting. ficult to discover, as it is to find a country where it never ex¬
isted at all. Design, the basis of painting, must have begun
with the very first instrument of necessity which man required.
The origin of any art, science, or discovery, is not so much ow¬
ing to the particular accident which happened to the individual
concerned, as to the intellectual adaptation of that individual
to receive impressions of a peculiar nature from the particu¬
lar circumstance which occurred. Thus whether Music was
invented by the man, who, listening to the sound of an anvil,
instantly composed notes ; or whether Painting was disco¬
vered by the lovely girl, who, watching the shadow of her
lover, as he sat silent at the prospect of parting, traced it
upon the wall as a memento of their mutual affection ; whe¬
ther it originated with Philocles in Egypt, or Cleanthes in
Corinth, or long before Egypt or Greece were habitable;
the principle is the same. Without an inherent suscepti¬
bility to the impressions of sound, in preference to all °t er
impressions, in the man, or an inherent susceptibility to the
impressions of form equally intense in the girl, the inte ec-
tual faculties of either would have never been excited to
compose notes, or to define figures. The art originate wi i
the first man who was born with such acute sensibility to the
beauty of form, colour, and light and shadow, as to be im¬
pelled to convey his thoughts by positive imitation.
When the Spaniards landed in South America, the mode
by which the natives conveyed intelligence of their arrival to
king Montezuma was by painting the clothes of the strangers,
their looks, their dress, and their ships. This certainly must
have been the most ancient, because the most simple and ob¬
vious mode in the world of conveying thought, after oral com¬
munication. But independently of all theory, there cannot Painting,
be adoubt of the extreme antiquity of painting. The walls ot
Babylon were painted after nature with different species of
animals, hunting expeditions, and combats. Semiramis was
represented on horseback striking a leopard with a dart, and
her husband Ninus wounding a lion. “ And I went in and
saw, and behold every form of creeping things, and abomi¬
nable beasts, and all the idols of the house of Israel, pour-
tray ed on the wall round about.” (Ezek. viii. 18.) “ She
saw men pourtrayed upon the wall, the images of the Chal¬
deans pourtrayed in vermilion, girded with girdles upon
their loins, exceeding in dyed attire upon their heads, all of
them princes to look at, after the manner of the Babylo¬
nians and Chaldeans” (chap.xxiii. 14, 15.) It is inferred
from a passage of Diodorus Siculus, that these figures were
painted first on the brick before burning, and then vitrified
by fire.1 But before this was done, experience must have
been acquired of the liability to decay of painting upon ex¬
ternal walls ; and considering, too, that great statues were
erected in Babylon, the arts must have existed amongst the
Babylonians long before the period here referred to.
But a great revolution has taken place in our ideas on this Antiquity
subject, from the decyphering of hieroglyphics, and we are of art in
now assured of the extreme antiquity of art, in ages hitherto 10Ilia-
deemed almost entirely fabulous. From Asiatic art we have
been accustomed to turn to that of the Egyptians ; but it is
no longer considered as a matter of speculation that the Ethio¬
pians preceded the latter in knowledge, and that from this
ancient people the Egyptians received gradually a knowledge
of art. The course of civilisation probably descended from
Ethiopia to Egypt; and yet we have evidence of the existence
ofEgyptian painting and sculpture more than eighteen centur¬
ies before Christ, and even then the arts were in the highest
condition that the Egyptian school ever attained. From the
most ancient records of the Jewish and Greek historians,
in which Egyptian and Ethiopian monarchs are mentioned,
and their actions narrated, we can now turn to correspond¬
ing traces of their existence and exploits commemorated up¬
on the durable materials of the temples, tombs, and palaces
which still remain. When therefore it is found that this me¬
thod of interpreting hieroglyphics has proved to be correct,
in all that we know of the Csesars and the Ptolemies, or see
casually alluded to respecting the Pharaohs,we have no right
at all to dispute the truth of the same mode of interpretation
when it indicates a still higher antiquity, though we have not
the means of confirming it by collateral reference. Eighty
miles above Dongola, Lord Prudhoe discovered the remains
of a magnificent city, which he conceives to have been the
capital of Tirhakah mentioned in the Bible ; and amongst
these ruins he observed two nobly executed lions, specimens
of Ethiopian skill. On the shoulders of one is the name of
Amenoph III., who was called Memnon by Greek historians.
The style and execution of these great works are evidence
of the talent of this people.2 It is now certain that as early
as the nineteenth century before Christ, the walls and
temples of Thebes were decorated with paintings and sculp¬
ture, commemorating personal and historical events ; and
certainly in comparing the designs on these temples with
those of a later period, we must conclude that the Egyptian
school of painting never exceeded their merit.3
The conclusion to be drawn is, that at this time the Egyp-
1 Barry’s Lectures,
2 Now in the British Museum.
2 See last vol. of Sculpture (Dilettanti).
PAINTING.
47
Painting, tian priesthood had not interfered with art or artists ; but
'•^“V^'that the painters were left freely to commemorate the great
actions of their employers, to study nature, and to do as they
liked. Many of these actions are delineated in a natural man¬
ner, and there is a great deal of dignity in the figure of the
hero; the sea fights are also well grouped, and there are many
of the Trajan-column figures, and not more gross perspec¬
tive is visible. The colour is a mere illumination, and the
composition as a whole infantine ; but there is proportion,
and not absolute ignorance of the component parts.1 After
this period, artbecame a mere tool in the hands of the priests;
and as the law compelled the son to follow the profession of
his father, it may be supposed that painting degenerated
into the mere fac-simile of prescribed forms of gods, god¬
desses, and men, and that in the time of the Ptolemies it
was little better than an illuminated hieroglyphic.
Character of The Egyptians appear to have done every thing with re-
Egyptian ference to form. Their painting was at best but coloured
design. sculpture. They seem to have been aware of the mortality
of colours, and to have said, “ As colours must go, let us cut
out the designs in stone, so that at least form may remain
in our granite sculpture, and defy every thing but the con¬
vulsion of the earth.” First the designer drew the outline in
red, then the master artist corrected it, then the sculptor cut
it, then the painter coloured it, gods blue, goddesses yel¬
low, men red, and draperies green and black; and such is the
extreme dryness of the climate, that a traveller says, he saw
in Nubia, a bas-relief half cut, with the red outline left for
the rest, and that he wetted his finger and put it up, and
immediately obliterated a part of the red chalk.
The Egyptians would seem to have been a severe people,
as hard as their own granite.2 They had an awful feeling of
respect for the wisdom of their ancestors ; they hated re¬
form ; no physician dared to prescribe a new medicine, and
no painter dared to invent a new thought. Plato says, that
the pictures of his day in Egypt were just the same as from
ages immemorial ;3 and, according to Winkelman, another
cause of their inferiority in painting, was the little estima¬
tion in which painters were held, and their extreme igno¬
rance. Not a single painter of eminence has reached us,
and but one sculptor, viz. Memnon, author of three statues
at the entrance of the great temple at Thebes. In the know¬
ledge of the figure it is impossible they could be great; for
there is proof that they dared not touch the dead body for dis¬
section, and even the embalmers risked their lives from the
hatred of the populace.
Winkelman divides Egyptian design into three periods;
First, from the earliest times to the conquest of Cambyses ;
secondly, from the conquest of Cambyses to the subjugation
of the Persian and the establishment of the Greek dynasty
in Egypt; and, thirdly, from that period to the time of Ha¬
drian.4 When the paintings at Thebes were executed is
not known. But they were upon the walls at the expulsion
of the Shepherd Kings,5 and this was the first period of their
art, and before Moses. The Egyptians never, in either art,
reached the power of making men, as Aristotle said of Po-
lygnotus, better than they were; in other words, they never at¬
tained the true ideal beauty, founded on nature, yet above it.
I heir figures are debased transcripts of what they had about
them, and therefore, so far authentic as to character. The
Egyptian female heads are far from displeasing ; they have a
sleepy voluptuous eye,6 a full and pleasant mouth, high cheek
bones, dark brows, and there is something by no means dis-
agreeable in the silent lazy look of their expression* But the
very want of ideal beauty gives an assurance that the figures Painting,
are Egyptian nature, and that every habit, public, private,
civil and religious, is laid open to us, by the wonderful disco¬
veries of Belzoni and his followers: it is almost as impossible
now for an artist to be incorrect in painting an Egyptian sub¬
ject, as it would be to err in painting a British one. In a tomb
laid open by Belzoni, the characters of the procession were ad¬
mirably distinguished; the Jew, the Egyptian, the Negro, and
the Chaldsean, were as little liable to be confounded as if they
had been before us. In their sculpture, however, there is more
of science than in their painting. Sculpture was practised
by the priesthood, and sculptors were called sacred stone¬
cutters. The great head of Memnon in the British Museum
is beautifully cut, the nose and mouth especially ; and, con¬
sidering its remote antiquity, it is really a great wonder.
Upon the whole, it is impossible to believe that the art
of painting, amongst other nations, owed much to the Egyp¬
tians ; they had no colour, and no light and shadow, but only
some form, some expression, and some character. The groups
of the ruins of Elythia shew a great deal of nature and sim¬
plicity ; the animals are varied, and the cows are lowing and
gamboling ; yet it is after all but childish work, and as the
paintings at Thebes are the best, those of Elythia have not
much to boast of.
Whether the Greeks owe their beginnings to Egypt, is
more than doubtful, from the simple fact of the early Greek
painters using no blue, whilst it was the constant practice
of Egyptian painters to use blue in every thing.7 Athens
was founded by an Egyptian colony, and painters might be
amongst the emigrants, as well as masons and sculptors; yet
in the early state of things, painters were not an article of
necessity, and it is problematical if in this alleged emigration,
there were any persons of that class. The beginning of art
was the same in all nations. They might improve each
other ; but we do not believe that painting was ever origin¬
ally brought into one nation by another, or that there ever
existed any, where it has not always been more or less known
from the remotest period of their history.
After Ethiopian and Egyptian art, that of the Hebrew State of art
people must next be examined. That they .had sculptors amongst
and chasers, is evident; but it is not so certain that paintingthe IIe’
was practised. Though the cunning work of the curtains in Q^er^a ■!
Exodus means tapestry, and for any cunning work of the kind, ernnati0nS.
designs coloured must have been executed; yet there is
no proof in any part of the Bible that painting as an art was
ever practised by them ; and even the designs alluded to
were exclusively applied for the purposes of religion. “ More¬
over, thou shalt make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine
twined linen, with blue, and purple, and scarlet; with cheru¬
bim of cunning work shalt thou make them.” (Exodus xxvi. 1.)
“ And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, See, I have called
by name Bezaleel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe
of Judah ; and I have filled him with the spirit of God, in
wisdom, and in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all
manner of workmanship, to devise cunning works, to work
in gold, and in silver, and in brass, and in cutting of stones,
to set them, and in carving of timber, to work in all manner
of workmanship? (Exod. xxxi. 1—5.) Yet when Solomon
wanted artists, he sent to Tyre, which is presumptive evi¬
dence of a deficiency of skill at Jerusalem. No allusion is
made to the existence of the art of painting amongst the He¬
brews ; yet it is hardly possible to suppose a people working
in stone, and silver, and gold, and timber, designing and
weaving a cunning work of cherubims on curtains and bor-
2 n; 1 e,.{ren(:!1 nafi°nal work on Egypt. 4 Wink. lib. ii. chap. 2.
3 n l ' Xy.V' y‘ 5 See 2d vol. of Ancient Sculpture, (Dilettanti.)
7 Cnl 1”‘ \ • 6 See Description del'Egypte, tom. i. plates.
wfiethp/thftr! ®ays.tliere ]s a remnant of blue on the temple of Theseus; but that may be as applied to architecture. The question is,
«>lor No colon! r ? USGt U in the'r art‘ Pliny says no> and Quintilian confirms him by applying to them the expression simple*
i>0 colour is simplex where pure blue is used.
48
painting.
1
Painting.
Etruscan
art.
Painting, ders for garments, and havmg been so long arno g ^
— Egyptians, to have been ignorant of paint mg nm ^
opinion of one of the greatest llvlI^.a^ painting was not
that the representation of any objec y p S
PeWUh1elchte “toting of the PlKenicians; Petstos
I„S anS cLete. it was tn the earliest
edebrated fo^
from an efephant, though scarcely *°“ ora„ce
garments, and their want of science, are s g ^ rred to
that they have been -er wrlPbe,^^
eL”L" PhSshew'edmore knowledge of the
M^hS^SeS^n-
Hdes’temselves. Who the Etruscans were nobodyknows ,
bn all.agree that they were not abo;igj"eS, and^ns ,s es-
alw^^thdr mL Wmds
hTd,y\l™~S;^eof||«
vet decided where they came from, and who they were, an
[fie consults all whohave written on the subject ftom He¬
rodotus to M. Raoul.Rochette.he IS “ beJk^rove
rthCVh^rUke *! early works of almost all bar-
ris^pStSanSS^s
die gods ot the reruvra , .neor, tionsaU over the world;
and'the baudy-legged
d;j,enctes, sixteen head^h^h, of this myster J ^
them in contact with trreece anu byE ’ evidence that
both nations become apparent, but thlS , other>
points, Heyne ^ '^°d Greek o pZgic art;
gross; the second ef'b'te'l trace^ot Wee^ was»bet(er .
the third had a taint 0t Eoyp G k mythology ; and
the fifth produced “ beau y arf Greekmytho ^
this completes the pe™d Cuma ,550
nized 801 b.c. ; but t Etruscans in contact
B.C. This neighbourhood b^bt *0 Eftuscans
with Greek art, when abou cvilv and the intercourse
Greek colonies were established in i y> , wondered, that
being reciprocal and ^mPle^e’Lons became fascinated and
the more ignorant of the tw0 ® ren(lered Etruscan
inoculated by the superior one, an ,1 ,iouut and
so like Greek art, that it has ever since produced doubt ana
COAcco0rding to Pliny, the arrival of Demaratus with Clean-
thes from Corinth, first brought art into Etruria about 650
b r • vet he says, there were beautiful pictures at Ardea
B.G., yet, ne y , were older than Kome, and Rome was
Lanuvium, ^ ^ that before Rome was built,
casting of metal, sculpture, and painting existed in Etnina
anterior to any connection of the Etruscans with Greece ,
according to Winkelman the Etruscans were advanccdi
art before the Greeks, and it was a tradition of the remote
thnt Duedalus living from Minos settled m Etruria and
first’ sowed the seeds of design. When Etruria beca™6 ,a
Roman province, Marcus Flavins PlaccusbesmgedV^
nium, the etymological meaning of which is, The
bAnir;r Tn r«« ~.
monument of suWonnding nations, there .s no fi™g them
antiouitv. It is clear, however, that painting flourished in
jtaly before it did in Greece ; such at least is the opinion
of Tiraboschi.5 Pliny says nothing about it before the 18th
Olympiad in Greece, wh/reas in the 16th there were paint¬
ings in the above towns in Italy, and works too shewing
m-eat refinement; which the Romans admired m their days
of splendour, and which their emperors wished to remove,
surrounded as they were by the finest productions of Grecian
t Their civil and religious rites not being the same as
Ae EjymLTand there "being no traces of embalmmg rt
may thence be concluded that they were not of Egyptian
0r,An hopes of discovering any of their pamtmgs, any impor-
tant work which should give us evidence of their talents in
S" were given up, till in 1760 Paccaudi ^covered a^-
ouinia, tombs decorated with designs; andin 1837 tac simues
of Sural decorations of other tombs were exhibited in Lon¬
don with the monumental statues themselves, and in pa s
were Extremely beautiful in taste, design, expression, and
dranerv rThe extremities were correctly and sweetly drawn;
She expression and character of the head, which were
Sv interesting, would not have disgraced any period of
Gre'ek or Italia6; design, though they wonU not have ho-
noured the finest. It is impossible to judge ot the colour
of the Etruscan school from these specimens, or from the
vases called Etruscan. Fresco, stucco, or distemper are adap -
ed neither for depth nor for tone; oil or encaustic is the on y
vehicle fit for harmony, and oil or encaustic was never prac¬
ticed bv them. With respect to the painted vases called
St cnL because they are found in Etruria, we might just
as well assert, if one discovered in the middle of Yorkshire,
a mass of china, that it must be of English manufacture be¬
cause it was found in Yorkshire. Alter the Greeks had
settled in the south, their vases might be and no doubt were
an article of commerce ; of course they were imitated, but
surely the design andorigin are wholly Grecian, whatever the
Etruscans might after long intercourse do in the way of imita¬
tion The principles of designand proj^rtioti in these beauti¬
ful productions, are the same as in the %est works of Gree
sculpture with an occasional but triflinganation. Raftaelle
himself could not have exceeded the purity of form expressed
, i- :n drapery or figure. In the finest vases the artists
seem to have been perfect masters of the figure, and to have
zone right round with the stylus, till the contour of the part
g comnletelv expressed. Nor is there any thing wonder-
fl in this considering the manner in which Greek artists
and manufacturers began, proceeded, and concluded their
studies. According to Plato, a perfect mastery of the forms
3 See Heyne’s Notes on Winkelman, vol. i.
1 B.C. 1556. / See ?°”dS*to it for more extensive information on the Etruscans.
£ This is a most able article, and the reader is referre
f Storia della Letteratura Italiana.
PAINTING 49
Painting, of man and animal was the basis of all instruction in de-
^We have thus brought down the history of the art to a
period, when our information, though imperfect, is more cer¬
tain ; but we can never sufficiently estimate the loss of all
the ancient treatises on art, though we ought to be very
grateful for what we possess in Plato and Aristotle, Pliny
and Quintilian, and other ancient writers, Greek and Ro¬
man, down to the middle ages, and till the subject was taken
up by Vasari and Lanzi.1 The continued existence of this
glorious art, can always be proved, more or less subject of
course, like everything human, to those alternations of splen¬
dour and calamity, triumph and misfortune, which are the
lot of every thing here below.
Greek The superiority of the Greeks in art is always attributed
school of to the secondary causes of climate and government, forget-
art- ting the one important requisite, without which the influence
of the most genial climate, or the patronage of the most per¬
fect government could avail little ; we mean natural and in¬
herent genius. If the Athenians, the Rhodians, the Corin¬
thians, and the Sicyonians owed their excellence in art to
the climate, why did not the same climate produce equal per¬
fection in the Spartans and Arcadians ? If climate be the
secret, why are not all people under the same latitude equally
gifted and equally refined? Climate may be more or less
favourable to intellectual development, but is never the
cause of its existence. Government may elicit genius by
iostering and reward, but can never create it. All the la¬
mentation about the climate of England, Scotland, or Flan¬
ders, did not prevent Hogarth’s appearance in the first,
Wilkie’s in the second, or Rubens’ in the last of these coun¬
tries ; nor could all the beauty of climate in Greece or Italy,
ever have made Mengs a Raffaelle, or David the Titian of
modern times. It would be absurd to deny altogether the in¬
fluence of climate in the extremes. It is not impossible but
that genius might melt to indolence under the line, or freeze
to apathy within the arctic circle; but even genius there
would assert its superiority in something or in some way.
What we contend for is, that Winkelman’s theory of limit¬
ing the gifts of God, intellectual or corporeal, to latitude or
longitude, is not borne out by facts, the great test of all theo¬
retical principles.
The Greeks were idolaters, and their love of beauty was
a principle of their religion. The more beautiful a face or
form could be rendered in painting or sculpture, the better
chance had the artist of the blessing of the gods here, and
their immortal rewards hereafter. As beauty was so much
prized by this highly-endowed people, those who were gifted
with it became ambitious of making it known to great ar¬
tists, and by them to the world. Artists fixed the fame of
beauty in man or woman, and even children who gave pro¬
mise of being beautiful were allowed to contest for a prize,
and the child who won it had a statue erected to him. Many
people were complimented by being named from the beauty
of any particular part, and Winkelman quotes an instance,
where one was called XapiTo^Xec^apos,that is, “having eye¬
lids where the graces sat.” There were games instituted near
the River Alphaeus, where prizes were adjudged to the most
beautiful; and the Lacedaemonian women in their bed-rooms
kept continually before their eyes the finest statues. Still, this
admiration of beauty was but a secondary cause ; for though
the Lacedaemonians showed this love of beauty, they did
not produce great artists. The Greeks had a strong sen¬
sibility to beauty and an intense acuteness of understand-
ing. Every artist was a philosopher, and every philosopher
relished art, and understood it. The artists began by the
study of geometry and of form ; they analyzed the peculiari¬
ties of the form of man, by contrasting it with that of the
brutes, and they settled the principles of beauty in that form Painting,
and figure. The philosophers recommended to all classes
the study of art, as a refined mode of elevating their percep¬
tion of beauty ; and the government seconded the recom¬
mendation of the philosophers. The priests found the reli¬
gious feeling rendered more acute by painting and sculpture;
and the authorities discovered, that the emotions of patriotism
were doubled by the commemoration of great national events,
in temples and in public halls. Now, add climate as adapt¬
ed for such productions and their preservation, and genius,
the gift of God, as the first cause, and no one surely need
wonder that all these causes mutually acting on each other
produced the miracles of perfection in art which the world
has gazed at ever since with an incredulous and bewilder¬
ed astonishment.
The passion for the beautiful in poetry, painting, music,
and nature, led them to abhor the bloody amusements of
the Romans. To contest for glory by pictures, poems, or
music, to race for the prize of swiftness, or wrestle for the
crown of strength, were the innocent and delightful objects
of their Olympic games ; and during those noble comme¬
morations, war ceased, and all Greece assembled in happi¬
ness and joy. Even the harsh Spartans signed a truce of
fifty days with the Messenians, that they might keep a fete
in honour of Hyacinthus. The greatest men disdained not.
these contests. Plato appeared amongst the wrestlers at Co¬
rinth, and Pythagoras carried off the prize at Elis. What
must have been the effect of all this upon a people of strong
susceptibilities and of high natural genius ?
Consider the respect which must have been paid to great
artists, when such a man as Socrates pronounced them the
only wise men. Aisop took the greatest pleasure in loung¬
ing in their painting-rooms; Marcus Aurelius took lessons
in philosophy from an artist, and always said that the latter
first taught him to distinguish the true from the false ; and
when Paulus iEmilius sent to the Athenians for one of their
ablest philosophers to educate his children, they selected Me-
trodorus the painter, and, let it be remembered, that amongst
the children placed under his care, was one of the Scipios.
What must have been the effect on the rising youth of Greece
when the Amphictyonic council decreed that Polygnotus,
their greatest monumental painter, should be maintained
at the public expense wherever he went, as a mark of the na¬
tional admiration for his greatest work, the Hall at Delphi.
The glory and the fortune of a great painter did not de¬
pend, as now, upon the caprice of individuals; he was the
property of the nation ; he was employed by countries and
by cities; and his rewards were considered as a just portion of
the national expenditure. The educated and the high-born
were brought up with a conviction of the propriety and jus¬
tice of this principle ; and when they became members of
the government, considered this as useful a method of pub¬
lic expenditure, as squandering thousands on matters merely
diplomatic, or in vain shows, mummings, and pageants. And
such will yet be the system of our own country, when the
people become fully instructed, and are made sensible of
the moral and commercial influence of painting.
When we reflect upon the money spent in England by
the government, and the consequences which so often attend
that expenditure, and when we find in Greece the different
results of the same interference on the part of the state, and
that the works there produced have been canons of beauty
to the world ever since; it is natural to inquire, what was
the system by means of which genius was so successfully re¬
warded ? The secondary causes must have been, the com¬
petence of the tribunals to which poets, painters, musicians,
sculptors, historians, wrestlers, boxers, and philosophers with
such confidence appealed. It must have been the taste and
* See a beautiful passage De Legibus, lib. ii. p. 669..
might soon be made out.
VOL. XVII.
-If every scholar would mark and transcribe every passage relating to art, a code
G
50
painting.
Painting, knowledge of the members which composed the judgment
' boards, and their sincere conviction ofthe importance ot their
office. One has only to sift for a moment the nature ot their
greatest tribunal, that ofthe Olympian games ; one has only
to reflect on the deep feeling, the solemn sincerity, the awtu
piety of their conviction, that what they had to do involvcc
the future prospects of the rising youth of Greece, and that
on their moral honesty depended the glory of their country,
and that of its painters, sculptors, architects, philosophers,
iioets, and heroes. Before proceeding to detail the rise
and progress of Greek art, and Greek artists, as the paint¬
ing of every nation is connected with its civil, religious, and
scientific insti'utions (though more must always depend on
brated every five years, that is, they were celebrated on the Painting.
fifth year after the fourth had passed; and Sir Isaac Newton is v'—'
of opinion that they were originally instituted in celebration
of victories. Why the Olympic games had always the pre¬
ference, there is no knowing; but the grand statue of Jupiter
at Elis, must no doubt have had considerable influence.
The privilege of presiding at the Olympic games was at¬
tended with such dignity and power, that the Eleans who
had been in possession of it from the earliest times, were
more than once obliged to maintain their right by force ot
arms. After various disputes about the number of presidents
or hellenadicks, they remained at the original number often;
and Pausanias says, that for ten months preceding t e
ami calieu irom Uiem,   
pulous attention, they did every thing to qualify themselves
for being deservedly the judges of all Greece; to which
end they were patiently instructed by officers ca.led guar¬
dians ofthe laws, and they attended every day in the gym¬
nasium, upon the preparatory exercises of all those who were
admitted as candidates, and who entered their names also
ten months before, and exercised during apart, not the whole,
of this time, in preparing themselves for the combat. Being
exposed to the severest scrutiny, the judges had by these
means frequent opportunities of trying the skill of the com¬
batants, and also of exercising their own judgment; and both
prepared themselves for the praise or censure ot an awtul
scientific insti'utions (though more musta ways epe they jweit together in a house appointed for them,
amlaiUed from them^ hellanodiceum. By the most eetu-
a rapid examination ofthe principles which guidec tie e
cision of one of their most important tribunals, composed
of the greatest men the world has seen, ought to form a por¬
tion of every history of the art. ,, TT • i
Olympic Aristotle in his Politics,1 as quoted by Mr Hamilton in his
tribunal, pamphlet on the Houses of Parliament, observes .
taught ypa^ara ox literature, gymnastics, and music, and
many rr)v ypcxfnKrjv, or the art of design, as being a un ^ Y
useful for the purposes of life, but mainly because it enables
us to appreciate the merits of distinguished artists, and car¬
ries us to the contemplation of real beauty ; as letteis, iv uc
are the elements of calculation, terminate in the contempla- could only
«ion of truth.” A people thus educated to Z most exact impartiality on the part ofthe
basis of beauty in art, and to believe that the ; judges,Ldthe mostsincere and earnest efforts forsuperionty
when they became judges of genius, involved t e J e ^ ^ c etitors> in addition, the judges swore
intellectual taste and repute, and who gave ^' solemn oath before the statue of Jupiter, upon their finish-
in the presence of kings, philosophers, and P^^ere^ fffhe examination, to act according to the strictest equity
little likely to be biassed by unjust pieddection a » precautions against human frailty, liberty of
nature could be ; though, of course, in the to the senate at Elis was allowed to any one who felt
Nero and the emperors, great abuses tookP - hu_ a™rjeved. The judges had also the power of excommumcat-
Marathonian period, ever partiahty was ban in ia|whole nations! Once an Athenian found guilty of corrup-
man honours, it was banished from the 01>mp g ’ » „ , ^ refused to pay. The Athenians sanc-
those immortal days of glory and patriotism At tins extia- Jjon was fined,^ndje were exduded from all the
ordinary assemblage, kings enter ed tie i , ^ deci_ games, till they repented and paid the penalty. When the La-
spected the judgment, or if they refused to ab y cedsemonians were impertinent, other nations took up arms,
sion of a just tribunal, they were exclu ) fi what was and compelled them to submission. Such power hada wonder-
paid the fine and acknowledged their error. And what was andcompeiiea tne ^ Greece< 1
the result? The highest honours were obtaine in ticse con u ^ time approached, the candidates were rigorously
tests, because every one gifted m art; P^^ofile-crown no examined as to their virtuous descent, and their own moral
sical strength, knew that if he deseived • of life . and when they passed in public review dow n the sta-
partiality, no nephew of the judges sis e , £ y b diu^ a herald demanded with a loud voice, “ Is there any
the judge’s wife, would deprive him f klaSfldaUe'ns^^yc^. ^ho can accUse this man of any crime ? is he a rob¬
ing did his best, and if that ^tailed, he had a co g slave? is he wicked or in any way de-
scious conviction that he had been honourab y, an ione j, ed?„ Themistocles once stood up at the ceremony
and nobly beaten by a better. It is astomsl &, 1 b- d t Hiero, king of Syracuse, because he was a
tire confidence exist between judge and competitor, to what and oDjecreu ^ A ^ ^ ^ r . and
a de-ree this confidence affects both ; what a spring it gives
to mind and body, and how honestly every thing is done:
And if confidence be, from repeated experience, withhe d,
it is wonderful how half the faculties of the mind, and the
powers ofthe body and soul, sink under the impression. Na¬
poleon used to say, “ that if the moral feeling ot an army was
ta favour of a campaign, it was equalto 40 000 men II m -
ti/rant, a name odious to the democracies of Greece ; and
there could not be a stronger evidence of their utter de¬
testation of the name, than refusing to admit a king to con¬
tend because he was a tyrant; thus placing him upon a level
with a slave, who could not by law be admitted. The can¬
didates having passed in public review with honour, were
then sworn, that they had done all which was required by
. it was equal to 40,0UU men.ate^1 m<> ^ . &nd m’arch^
ral confidence be lost in such cases, disgu g 1 ’ connexi0ns, and families, who encouraged them to do their
apathy, indifference, and failure are the resu . d appealed to the gods to smile on their exertions,
In order to understand the Greek character drotougWy, best, anoajv for ^ flgh8 And being thus thought wor.
the system of excitement that was worked on, ^ ^ contest, even defeat was considered by them as
rials that were used to rouse the energies of comp i ’ qn evidence of their honour. The olive crowns and palm
conduce to the understanding of the secondary cause 2 b , were placed before their eyes on beautiful tripods,
perfection, if the nature of the Olympic games be exa • cite their utmost exertions, and when victorious it was
They are universally acknowledged to have subsiste ounCed by proclamation ; they were crowned by the he-
the rise of chronological dates and records; and the i ec ‘ , d tben led a]on„ preceded by trumpets, their names
the Olvmpic conquerors after their restoration, is the > sh0uted aloud throughout the vast assembly ; and on
the Olympic conquerors after their restoration,
known chronological date. Pausanias says they were cele
1 Lib. viii. c. 31.
2 See West’s Pindar.
PAIN
Painting, their return to their native city, they entered through a
breach in the wall, drawn in a chariot. And such was the
high feeling engendered by these judicious excitements, that
even Alexander himself was refused permission to contend,
because he was a barbarian, nor was he allowed until he had
proved his ancient descent at Argolis.1 “ In the republic
of the fine arts,” says the catalogue to the designs for a Na¬
tional Gallery, “ competition is the great source of excel¬
lence ; but so to frame institutions, and invite competition
as to secure all the attainable talent, and so to form a tribu¬
nal as to derive all benefit for the public, and to do justice
to the competitor, have been matters of great difficulty in
all ages and all countries.”
The whole history of ancient art shews the estimation in
which the unsophisticated judgment of the public was held.
Aristotle2 says, “ The multitude is the surest judge of the
productions of art;” “ If you do not get the applause of the
public,” says some one else, “what celebrity can you attain?”
and Cicero 3makes the public the supreme judge. Thus then,
no one ought to wonder at the perfection of Greek genius in
every thing, stimulated as it was by these secondary causes,
and the one acting upon the other, in a climate adapted in
every way for comfort, for health, and for convenience. The
Greeks were men like ourselves, not larger as their arms prove,
and not handsomer, for there exist as fine forms in either
sex, in Great Britain, as ever graced the atelier of Zeuxis ;
indeed Cicero complains of the plainness of the Athenians.
When genius and secondary causes unite, as they sometimes
do, then such men as Pericles and Alexander, and Polyg-
notus, Zeuxis, and Apelles, are the result; for all the Olym¬
pic games, and Greek tribunals, could never have made Hud¬
son Apelles, nor Caligula the benevolent Howard. “ If any
thing were wanting,” says Flaxman, “ to convince us of the
high estimation painting was held in by the Greeks, the
facts alone, viz. that Plato studied it, and Socrat s was a
sculptor by profession, are enough. But nothing is want¬
ing.”
In ancient painting, we certainly owe more to Pliny than
to any other author; though in point of exquisite tact for hit¬
ting at once the characters of the great geniuses in art, he
is not to be compared to Quintilian. There is more dis¬
crimination in theshort account Quintilian gives ofthepaint-
* ers and sculptors, than in all the delightful connoisseur chit¬
chat for which Pliny must ever be the leading favourite. Yet
certainly his gossip and anecdotes are sometimes underrated
by learned critics ; for in two instances of gossip, about the
partridges and grapes of Zeuxis and Protogenes, and the con¬
test of Apelles and Protogenes very deep principles of Greek
form and Greek imitation may be settled. Painting is said
by Pliny to have existed before the foundation of Rome in
Italy, as illustrated by designs on the walls at Ardea, Lanu-
vium, and Coere. This is always mentioned with a sort of
doubt by antiquarians, who suspect that to the arrival of De-
maratus from Corinth, the father of Tarquin, king of Rome,
Italy owes her first knowledge of painting ; but it has been
shewn that this cannot be so, if pictures were executed in
Italy before Rome was founded. Pliny sneers at the Egyp¬
tians for boasting of the antiquity of their painting ; whereas
the Greeks equally deserve a sneer for believing that they had
invented design.
Tabular Greeks painted tabular pictures on wood, and mu-
and mural ra^ pictures on walls. The materials were either encaustic
pictures; or wax painting, and distemper or glue-painting. In en-
distemper caustic on wood, they painted with a metal point called sty-
tic palatine ^ c^stemPer they painted with brushes, and in encaustic
on walls they also used brushes. Tabular pictures were pre¬
pared with a ground ot wax, and the composition was drawn
in with a stylus or point as we draw upon an etching ground
1 See Notes on West's Pindar-
4 De Republica, iii. c. 7.
* De Oratore, c. 49.
T I N G. 5i
with a needle. At a sale of antiquities in London there was Painting,
a regular Greek tablet with a wax ground, a stylus attach-
ed to it as boys hang slate-pencils to their slates, and a sen¬
tence of Greek actually half-cut. The word ypcufico being
used for painting, design, or writing, makes the instrument
the same in either case. This tablet was like a slate ; the
middle had been planed smooth, and the frame was left
round it. The progress of the Greeks is very interesting,
and shews how the mind gradually advances to the imitation
of reality, and rests impatiently on mere outline, as a repre¬
sentation of nature. After a certain time, the early ar¬
tists, when they had drawn an outline, ventured to colour
it inside with black. This mode of imitation was called
(TKiaypacpia, and the paintings o-Kiaypappara, or skiagrams,
from o-iaa shade, and ypacfra) to draw. Our black profiles
and whole figures seen in shop windows, are the skiagrams
of the ancient Greeks. This was hailed as a great step, and
the painter who could fill up a face or a figure with black
was regarded as a man eminent in art. After a little came
the genius with more extended views, who invented the po-
voypappa or monogram from povos only, and ypa<pa>, to draw ;
that is, to define by line only, an outline without a shade.
Next came the man who had the nerve to try a positive co¬
lour. Pliny has preserved his name, Cleophantus of Corinth;
he ground up a red brick,4 and therefore the Greeks claim¬
ed the invention of colour, although the Chaldaeans had paint¬
ed men red on the walls of Babylon, and so had the Egyp¬
tians on their tombs, nearly a thousand years before them.
This discovery was called povoxpupa, or monochrom, single¬
coloured from povos alone and xPufJLa colour, and this was
their first attempt at imitating flesh.5 Next came the white
ground (the gesso of the Italians and lime and plaster of the
Egyptians) covered with wax. From one colour, naturally
enough came the others; for if brick produced red, earths,
burned or natural, would produce other colours, and poly-
chrom, from ttoXvs many, and colour, was formed.
The art having now discovered its materials, soon ad¬
vanced steadily and gloriously to excellence. “ How long
the brush assisted only the cestrum, and when it super¬
seded it,” says Fuseli,6 “ cannot be ascertained; it cannot
be proved, that it ever entirely superseded it, and there is
every reason to believe they were always combined.” It
has been contested that painting was not known in Homer’s
time, because he speaks not of art; but what would be said
of any man who argued that painting was not known in Mil¬
ton’s time, because he did not speak of it. Homer speaks
ot painting ships, and Milton alludes to “ the painted stoa
but colouring and design must have been known from the
shield of Achilles, and the tapestries of Helen and Andro¬
mache, if the walls of Thebes and those of Babylon had not
settled the question. Troy was taken 1184 before Christ;
but painting flourished in Egypt 1900 years before our era,
that is, 716 years before Troy was taken, and 993 years be¬
fore the era of Homer.
The nature of distemper and encaustic painting amongst
the Greeks involves one or two questions interesting to
artists. Their distemper was our tempera, and consisted
in dissolving colour in water, and mixing it with glue;
and though in Pliny, glue is only mentioned once, and that
in conjunction with (tectores) plasterers, it is evidently
to be inferred from the brushes used in its practice, that
tempera intensely varnished was the general practice of
the tabular painters, and encaustics the exception. On all
encaustic pictures, the Greeks put (evwaucrev) “ burnt in
and what justified them in doing so ? Merely the general
application of fire to melt wax, or a particular mode of prac¬
tice. Was the cestrum or stylus heated, whilst finishing the
work, after the wax had been laid on ? or was any actual
4 Testa, ut ferunt, trita, Plin. lib. xxxv.
5 ^lo)ioxi(>ct>fjt.utrev dictum, ibid*
6 Fuzeli, Lecture first.
PAINTING.
heat applied to amalgamate the colour in the conclusion,
which justified such a term ? or was the wax actually melted
and used whilst boiling ? Pliny says, that there were cer¬
tain colours which would not stand without varnish; and that
after they were laid on walls and dry, they were varnished
with a mixture of warm punic wax and oil. Every Greek
artist had his chafing-dish or Kavr^piov ; and when the var¬
nish was dry, it was heated by fire from the chafing-dish
“ usque ad sudorem,” until it sweated, when it was rubbed
with wax candles, and polished with white napkins. This
method the Greeks called K.av<nsl or the burning mode ; and
why might it not be applied as well to encaustic pictures,
when finished either on wood, copper, walls, or stone, thus
harmonizing and judiciously amalgamating fierce execution
or distinct touches, and authorising the word ivenavaev being
put after the artist’s name ?
All the artists in Europe know well how often they use a
vehicle2 for avarnish, and a varnish fora vehicle in practice;
and hence it is too absurd to doubt for a moment, that any
Greek painter who had once used oil and wax as a varnish,
would not use it as a vehicle at the first opportunity. Pliny
infers, that “ ceris pingere,” to paint with waxes (coloured)
and “ picturam inurere,” to burn in the picture, were the
same methods. “ There were anciently,” he adds, “ two me¬
thods, one cerd, with wax, and another on ivory with a ces-
trum ; then came a third, boiling the wax and painting ships
at once with it, which was a lasting mode, so that neither sea,
wind, nor sun destroyed it.” It appears from another pas¬
sage, that the ships were painted in the same waya as pic¬
tures which were burnt in. “ Waxes are tinted with these
colours for pictures which are burnt in ; a different manner
of painting from that employed on walls, but like that (of
waxes tinted) employed for painting ships.” Were tinted
waxes applied hot ? From this it may be inferred that they
were*
Encaustic painting may be divided into four methods:
1 st, mixing the colours with wax, and thinning them at the
moment of painting with a liquid ; 2d, placing wax in co¬
lours on the ivory, distinctly like mosaic, and uniting them
by working them over with a heated cestrum ; 3d, boiling
the wax and using it hot; and, 4thly, softening the whole
picture after completion, by heating it with a chaffing-dish
or cauterium. Both Pliny and Vitruvius describe this last
method of varnishing ; and it is curious to contrast their re¬
lative descriptions. Pliny is rapid, careless, general, desul¬
tory, as if talking at a party; Vitruvius, accurate, mathe¬
matical, careful, and architectural, as if every word was a
brick, that must be poised and balanced. Pliny says you
must liquefy punic wax with oil,4 and rub it with a candle
and napkins. Vitruvius says, after your wa,ll is dry and
smooth, liquefy punic wax, paulo, a little by fire, then tem¬
per it with oil. In Pliny the paulo is left out, and so is the
fire ; but Vitruvius guides you to the degree, which is every Pain no¬
thing in the practice of the art of painting. The paulo, there-
fore, is invaluable; do not boil, but heat your wax, then hquety
it, then varnish, then when dry heat it with a chaffing-dish
and rub it smooth. To artists this practice is beautiful, and
though oil-painting was supposed to be unknown to the
Greeks, this was very near the point, and if used by Polyg-
notus at Delphi or Thespim, would have justified the term
burnt in, without the use of the cestrum.
It is not settled by Pliny who first discovered encaustic
painting ; it is not known, he says, whether Aristides may
have invented it, or Praxiteles completed it. But there ex¬
isted on the walls encaustic paintings by the old painters
Polygnotus and Nicanor ; Lysippus atiEgina put his name
to his tabular works with evruavaev; Pamphilus the great
master of Pausias, didnot practice it exclusively; and Pausias
was the first in this art. Pausias, Pliny adds, repaired the walls
of Thespise, painted by Polygnotus, but being obliged to use
the brush, failed, because he handled an instrument which he
was not accustomed to. It appears, however, that the walls oi
Thespise were painted in encaustic by Polygnotus, and with
the brush; or Pausias, the greatest encaustic painter,would not
have been employed to repair them, nor would he have gone
out of the way to use the brush, if Polygnotus had used the
cestrum. But Pausias failed, because the brush was not his
instrument; therefore encaustic on walls was not worked with
the cestrum, as it was on tablets, and the burning in on tab¬
lets was not of the same nature as that on walls. I hat the
brush and the cestrum were totally different in practice there
is no doubt; but that there was ever a time when the brush
was not used in painting is absurd; and Pliny is evidently
wrong in saying it was the last method.
It stands to reason that to paint ships was the earliest ne¬
cessity of navigation. The ark was pitched inside and outside
(Gen.vii. 14). Pitch melted is in fact like wax or oil; and
how was it to be equally spread over so vast a surface except
by brushes ? In fact, amongst the Egyptian antiquities im¬
ported of late years, brushes have been abundant. Thus
the Greeks painted on walls, wood, stone, ivory, copper, and
canvas ; on walls it was mural painting, and on either of the
other materials, tabular painting?
There is another question which remains to be settled be- %
fore touching on the great artists and their works : Did the
Greeks paint in fresco ? The belief has been that they did.
Vasari affirms it; but Letronne certainly establishes the sus¬
picion that they did not, except in a few ornamental parts of
architecture, and that stucco was more in practice. In
fresco the colours are placed on wet mortar, and become a
part of it. In stucco the colours do not become a part, and
can be separated. Certain colours are destroyed by con¬
tact with lime, and yet those colours which fresco would
have ruined, are always found on ancient painted walls.
X It is clear that>e was always an important part in an encaustic painting, because Philiscus painted a painter’s room (atelier) with
a little boy blowing ^ the liquid you paint with ; varnish, the liquid you put over the work, when done, to preserve it.
: i-Umur, ^^ ^ tautan.-
• That Reynolds introduced WMI4 SermSf wtether tabular painting waa or was not the principal practice of
6 Not many years ago a dispute raged in F to ayny „reat extent. Letronne says cloth was not used anciently to paint
the ancients, and whether mural painting ^ cioth one hundred and twenty feet high ; hut the madness insinuated does
on, and that Pliny thinks the of a portrait one hundred and twenty feet high in cloth. Why should canvas
not apply to the cloth, or canvas, hut to the X the middie affes ? Is this likely ? As a curious specimen of the blind
he only once used in antiquity and never before o L wrote t0 gim from Athens, that in the temple of Theseus they disco-
violence of party, the friends of one of the c®“bat^ ’ , COntours of the works of Polygnotus cut in on the plaster with the cestrum,
vered by candle-light round the upper part Letronne waf decidedly right as to his theory of paint-
the colours having been picked out by tbe early J"h"S.tla° ’ , hi8 POI)DOnfnt Raoul-Kochette, wrote him in turn that they did not see a
ing on walls. Yet would it be believed, that the friends of his opponent, Kaou^ ^ ^ which were let into the
tingle contour cut m, but that they discovered a sinking in wprp scarcelv ever painted on walls, but nearly always on wood, is
walls, and thus the theory of Raoul-Rochette^viz., that pic ure ^re carcely ever V™ ^ ^ J ^ ^ . for the
right, whilst the former gentlemen assert that there are contours on atest Klory was obtained by easel pictures, he affirms
ancients painted on walls as well as wood ; and though Hmy says th th g yabular pictures, he says pictures on walls
that there were also pictures on walls, because in giving one of his rea*° P tabular pictures. If pictures had not been painted
cannot be saved in case of fire (ex mcendns rapt non possunt), and that he preie I r
on walls as well as on wood, how could he have illustrated his preference ?
PAINTING.
Painting. Letronne says, that there does not exist a well authenticated
evidence of fresco, except as mere ornament in ceilings.
Having thus laid before the reader the different modes
of Greek practice, without which no subsequent account
of their arts or artists would have been intelligible, it is
time to say something of the artists themselves, who practised
these various modes of imitating nature. Of their different
methods, their white grounds descended to them from the
eastern nations, and have come to us through the middle
ages. Some of their colours we use now, and for some we
have substitutes as good. If their principles were as easily
attainable as their colours, we should have very little to de-
S^re> n •r'
Ancient In the earliest state of Greek art, Philocles from Egypt,
Greek art- and Cleanthes from Corinth, were the inventors of outline,
ists. anc[ Ardices from Corinth, and Telephanes from Sicyon, the
first who put it in practice, without any colour. To this
early period may be applied the accusation of iElian,1 that
the artists were obliged to write underneath their wretched
illustrations, “ This is a bull, this is a horse, this is a tree.”
The next were single-colour painters, or monochromatists,
as Hygiomon and others. Now the sexes began to be dis¬
tinguished, when Cimon the Cleonean had energy to attempt
the imitation of every thing. He it was who invented fore¬
shortening, and drawing things at an angle.2 He it was who
had courage to vary the characters and forms of heads, to
make them looking up, looking down, and looking behind; he
articulated his joints, shewed the veins and muscles, and gave
undulation and folds to his draperies. Panaenus, Phidias’s
brother, painted the shield of Minerva at Elis, and also the
battle of Marathon ; and so much had the knowledge of co¬
lour and art advanced, that portraits of the great leaders,
Miltiades, Callimachus, and Cynegyras, on the part of the
Greeks, and of Datis and Artaphernes, on that of the bar¬
barians, were introduced, and known by the spectators. It
was at this period that the glorious contests for victory in
art were begun at Corinth and Delphi; and Panaenus was
conquered by Timagoras of Chalcis, who commemorated his
victory by a poem ; “though I doubt not,’’says Pliny, “ there
is some chronological error.”
The Greek national and monumental painter Polygnotus,
flourished at this period or before it. He seems to have
been really a great man, and to have possessed a mighty soul.
He was born in Thasos, an island in theiEgean Sea ; and his
works seem all to have been national, votive offerings of cities
and his country. He was worthy of the finest period of
Greece, and met his noble patrons by a suitable return ; he
was one of those beings who are born for the time or be¬
yond it, and of whom the time is in want, or for whom it is
not enough advanced. He first clothed lovely women in
light and floating draperies, adorned their beautiful heads
with rich turbans, and thus advanced the art immense¬
ly. In expression of face he ventured to make the mouth
of beauty smile, and thus softened, by shewing the teeth, the
ancient rigidity of his predecessors. He painted gratuitously
the Hall at Delphi, and the Portico at Athens, called UoiklXt],
thus offering a contrast to Micon,who was paid. Such con-
53
duct was immediately judged worthy to be commemorated Painting,
by the highest authority in Greece, the Amphictyonic Coun-
cil, who ordered that Polygnotus should henceforth be main¬
tained at the expense of Greece. Pliny has certainly not
said enough of Polygnotus, whose great work at Delphi, de¬
scribed by Pausanias, proves him to have had colour in a
high degree, imagination in the highest, and all which, accord¬
ing to Aristotle, forms the most important requisite in the
language of painting. His work at Delphi was executed by
order of the Cnidians, who had a treasure there, and had also
built a stadium. Besides this building, they employed Po¬
lygnotus to adorn the great Hall, leaving him the choice of
subjects ; and as Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, was mur¬
dered and had a tomb near the spot, these subjects related
to the Trojan war.
It is supposed that because Pausanias describes one thing
as above another, composition was little known, and that there
were several subjects in one plane. But any one might de¬
scribe the Cartoons at Hampton Court in the same way,
and make a reader, who had never seen them, believe that
one figure was above another, and several subjects too.
Might not one say, “ Above Pythagoras in Raffaelle’s School
of Athens, is Alcibiades listening to Socrates but because
they are above one another, that is no proof that they do
not retire. Aristotle settles his high rank better than Pliny
or Quintilian. “Polygnotus,”says he, “made men betterthan
they are, Pauson worse than they are, and Dionysius the
same as they are.”3 Polygnotus, therefore, expressed the
leading points of the species man, and cleared the acciden¬
tal from the superfluous. Cimabue did not do this, nor Mas-
saccio, nor Giotto ; but Raffaelle and Michel Angelo did ;
and when this is done, in painting or sculpture, the com¬
ponent parts of art must be equally advanced. Besides, when
did Polygnotus flourish? Between the 84th and 90th Olym¬
piad. The Parthenon must have been built; the beauties
of Phidias’s immortal hand must have been executed, such
as we see them in the Theseus, Ilyssus, metopes and frieze
of the Elgin marbles. And could any painter be a Goth in
composition, when such knowledge of the art is visible in
these perfect wonders ? Polygnotus put the names to many
of his figures ; Annibale Caracci put “ genus unde Latinum”
to Venus and Anchises ; Raffaelle gilded his glories ; but
what argument is that against the genius of either ? The
power of Polygnotus in painting the daemon Eurynome, with
a skin the colour of a blue-bottle fly, shews the truth of his
imagination, as well as his power of observation and imitation.
Polygnotus was a great genius, worthy of his age; and the
“ simplex color,” applied by Quintilian to his works, only
proves the purity of his taste in using it.4
Simplicity is not barbarism, any more than gorgeous¬
ness is true taste. About the 90th Olympiad the light be¬
gan to dawn and to give promise of a glorious sunrise. Agla-
ophon, Cephissodonus, Phrylus, and Evenor, the father oi
Parrhasius, and preceptor of the greatest painters, appeared.
These were all celebrated in their day; but one of the most
important reformers was Apollodorus the Athenian, who flou¬
rished in the 93d Olympiad. He was the first, according to
1 iElian, lib. x. chap. xii. . . .
2 Catagrapha invenit, hoc est, obliquas imagines et varie formare voltus, respicientesque, suspicientes vel despmientes. Fuseli says
catagrapha means profiles ; but how could he invent profiles when profiles are the characteristics of the earliest art ? At first all art is piofile ;
but Cimon was a reformer. To draw downwards he invented oblique views, and varied the views of the head and face, looking
behind, looking up, and looking down. Fuseli says catagrapha means profile ; but profiles are not oblique representations but sections of
the figure and face, in the same sense as architectural sections, that is, equal halves. The “ obliquse imagines, are angular views, seeing
things at an angle; the passage is directly illustrated by the circumstances, that he made bis heads looking behind, &c.; and how can a head
looking behind be & profile? In some places it may mean so; in Pausanias, xum in radical meaning is downwards, as if the eye looked at
the top of the head to the feet, which foreshortening.
3 Aristotle, Poetics.
4 Hardourn’s Pliny, lib. xii. c. 10, p. 893. Clari Pictores fuisse dicuntur Polygnotus, atque Aglaophon; quorum simplex color tarn sut
studiosus adhuc habet,” etc. Now the simplex color of Polygnotus and Aglaophon was not one colour, like monochroms, but modesty in the
arrangement of the three colours, red, yellow, and black, without blue. How then could the monochrom apply to Polygnotus, whose works
at Thespiae, Delphi, and the Poikile at Athens, were painted in all the variety these three colours could produce, and not confined to owe
colour ’
54
PAINTING.
Ancient
Greek
painters.
Painting. Pliny, who expressed the species; and hewasalso the firstwho
 'did honour to the glory of the pencil. But, after PhahasPa-
ncenus, Micon, and Polygnotus, one is inclined to quest on
whether he was the first who expressed the species. Phidias,
in the opinion of the ancients, was the greatest artist m sculp¬
ture Plato says that Phidias was “ skilled in beauty , but
to be skilful in beauty, argues the power of expressing the
species, and a perfect knowledge of the construction; for
beauty is the last operation, and is based upon the first. How
then Apollodorus could have expressed the species better than
Phidias or Polygnotus, it would perhaps have puzzled P y
to explain. However, let us take what the gods have spared,
and be grateful. “ His, is the adoring priest,” says Phny,
“and Ajax defying the lightning at Pergamus ; nor was a y
tablet worth looking at before.” That may be. 1 ® P "
vious works were monumental, national, or mural, painted
with brushes, and bold in execution. Tabular pamti^ g
may have been a more delicate workmanship, but it is n
to be compared with the true epic, any more than the bigWy*
wrought easel pictures of Raffaelle, are to be compared with
^“Thetoors,” says Pliny, “ that Apollodorus had opened,
Zeuxis boldly marched through, about the 95th Olympia ,
daring every thing the pencil could do, and carrying i
thp1 ereatest dory. Some place him in the 89th Olympiad,
fut fhU is “Sake. Delphilus or Naseas was h s m-
ter. Apollodorus became envious of Zeuxis, because the la
ter improved upon the style he had introduced, and wrote a
lampoon. Zeuxis became very rich, grew very haughty, an
always appeared at the Olympic games m a purple robe,
with his name in gold letters on the border. So high was
his opinion of his own pictures, that, thinking no money could
equal their value, he gave them away. From this feeling
he presented an Alcmena to the Agngentines, and a Pan to
Archelaus; he also painted a Penelope, in which her moral
beauty of character was visible, and an athlete, so much to
his own delight, that he wrote underneath, It is easier to
criticTse thaiftoexecute.” His greatworkswerejup.ter and
all the gods, and Hercules strangling the serpents. He was
censured for large heads and violent markings, but otherwise
he was strictly correct. Pliny varies his history with current
stories, and We can almost get at the principles of Greek art
from them as well as from the account of the art i tself. Cu.rre"
stories and proverbs should never be disregarded ; for, if no
true they may be taken as inventions characteristic of the
mrties or they would never have been believed. The Agn-
Lntines, says Pliny, ordered a picture for a temple of Juno
Lucinia, and theyallowed the painter to select the finest girls
as models. Cicero1 says it was the Crotomates who employed
him- and as Zeuxis always studied nature, the most beautiful
srirls were ordered by government to come to him, and havmg
selected five, he then painted his Helen. Zeuxis made his
sketches in black and white (pVm< etmonockromataex alboj
or of a single colour heightened by white. His contempora¬
ries and rivals were Timanthes, Androcydes, Lupompus and
Parrhasius. The contest of the last with Zeuxis, m which
the one deceived the birds by grapes, and Parrhasius Zeuxis
himself by his curtain, contains the great principle of Greek
art viz. That the most perfect imitation of reality was not
incompatible with the highest style. Antiouaries are d
nosed to laugh at these stories as beneath the dignity ot
belief; but artists knowwell enough, that, so far from being
unworthy of credit, all the stories of Phny and ^han te
more or less to illustrate a principle. Zeuxis painted a boy
and grapes, and the birds flew at the fruit; but his rival ob¬
served that, if the boy had been equal to the grapes, the birds
would have been frightened. Zeuxis was a great painter
and discovered the principles of light and shadow. ^
After Zeuxis came Parrhasius, “liquidis ille coloribus,
who was born at Ephesus,and celebratedfor great excellence. Painting
He first gave correct proportions to painting; airs to tlie^^y~*
head, elegance to the hair, and beauty to the countenance.
Bv the acknowledgment of all artists, the manner m which
he lost the contours of his forms, was exquisite. Many peo¬
ple can execute the parts of which the middle of things is
composed; but few can finish the boundaries of objects as
if the substance was round, and did not end with the con¬
tour which defined it; thus giving one an idea as if some-
thing was concealed, and exciting the imagination to con¬
ceive what the eye did not see. This excellence Xenocra-
tes, and Antigonus, who wrote on painting, conceded to Parr¬
hasius ; and not this excellence alone, but also many others.
The best idea than can be given to the moderns of the
works of Parrhasius, is by referring them to the pictures ot
Corregio, of which this is the great excellence. Parrha¬
sius appears also to have had the same defect; for he sof¬
tened the centres of his figures, and gave them too much
pulpiness for the heroic. There remained, in Pliny s time,
sketches of subjects, and of hands and feet, from which ar¬
tists learned a great deal. He contrived in ^ Picture to
paint the people of Athens, and to give a true idea of their
variable character; humble yet vam-glonous, timid yet
ferocious ;—and all these contrasts he expressed wi h great
power. But Parrhasius disgraced his genius by yielding to
what Johnson calls “ the frigid villany of studied lewdness,
and sacrificed his noble art to pander to the beastly appetites of
the debauched; in fact, Tiberius kept one of his licenU-
ous pictures in his bed-room, namely, that of Me eager a
Atalanta. But whatever may have been the habits ot a
tiquity, and however indecencies may have been connected
with religion, it is clear the greatest men did not approve ot
such prostitution of talent. Aristotle censures the practice,
and warns tutors to guard their pupils from such corruptions.
Timanthes followed, the great painter of the sacrifice of
Iphi°-eniain Aulis. No picture had more reputation for touch¬
ing art and delicacy than this. After exhausting expression
in all the principal agents, the artist covered the face ot the
father, not daring to trust his hand to attempt mutation, and
leaving every spectator to imagine an agony of his cm n. As
Euripides has the same incident, Fuseli thinks the lonou™
being the first inventor is due to 1 imanthes. In the death
of Germanicus, Poussin hid the face of his wife. 1 imanthes
seems to have been ingenious in his inventions ; to give 11
idea of great size to a sleeping Cyclops, he introduced two
satyrs trying to span his thumb. Phny adds, that there was
a head painted byPhim in the Temple of Peace at Rome, and
which was a perfect specimen of art.
Euxenides taught Aristides, the great master of expies-
sion, and Eupompus taught Pamplnlus, who was the master
of Apelles, a name synonymous with perfection in finish, but
not for invention like Zeuxis, monumental commemorations
hkePolygnotus, composition like Amphion, or expression like
Aristide*. No ; Apelles was the deity of tabular pictures,
the greatest glory of the art in Pliny’s mind, but not m the
minds of those who see beyond the range of a dimng-par-
lour. Eupompus painted a victor with a palm branch in Ins
hand ; and such was his influence in Greece, that he was al¬
lowed to divide painting into three schools, ’V1Z-t*16 l0™an’
Sicyonian, and Athenian. Pamphilus was a Macedonian,
who combined literature with painting and made it a prin¬
ciple of tuition, that no man could be great in either who
was not a mathematician ; for he denied that without geo¬
metry art could be perfected. He taught nobody under a
talent, which both Apelles and Melanthus paid. So great
was the influence of this distinguished man, that first at bi-
cyon, and afterwards in all Greece, he got it established as
a principle ofeducation, that all clever boys should be taught
on tablets the art of delineating, which is the foundation of
1 De Invent, lib. 2. chap. x»
2 Horace.
PAIN
Fainting, painting. He considered this art as the first that should be
taught in a liberal education. Slaves were prohibited the
exercise of design; which was an absurd law, because in
literature it would have prevented ;Esop or Terence from de¬
veloping their genius. What right have any creatures, who
are obliged to eat and sleep like the meanest slave, to pass a
law to prohibit the exercise of any natural talent, if the Al¬
mighty has not disdained to think one worthy of being so gift¬
ed ? The consequence of this was, that no slave ever dis¬
tinguished himself in the arts.
About the 107th Olympiad, after Echion and Therami-
chus, came tne god of high finish and grace, Apelles. His
style is always the precursor of decay. First came a race
in art, amongst whom invention, expression, form, colour, and
execution, in a series of pictures intended to illustrate a princi¬
ple were enough, provided the principle was expressed. These
were the monumental geniuses. But when the art becomes
national and glorious, the noble and the opulent become am¬
bitious to share the glory with their country; and the art sinks
to the humble office of adorning apartments. As is the de¬
mand, such will be the supply; and the genius of a country is
thus turned from national objects and public commemorations
to private sympathies and domestic pleasures. Atthisperiod
of Greek taste appeared Apelles ; refined, accomplished, de¬
licate, devoting his whole soul to single perfections equally
adapted for a temple or a palace, and patronised equally by
his sovereign and the people. Educated by Pamphilus, he
was grounded to the very foundation, and consequently drew,
as Burke says to Barry, with “ the last degree of perfection.”
Apelles, Aristides, Nichomachus, and Protogenes, were the
most distinguished artists of Alexander’s time.
Apelles wrote copiously on his art, and explained its prin¬
ciples. His treatises were extant in Pliny’s time, and even in
that of Suidas,1 who speaks of them ; and as they were pro¬
bably illustrated with designs, the loss is much to be deplor¬
ed. Beauty was the leading feature of his style, as well as
of that of the greatest painters of the same period. In grace
he defied competition ; and this explains the secret of his tri¬
umph. “ I know when to leave off,” said he, “ which is a
great art; Protogenes does not. Over-working is injurious.”
He was a very generous man, and acknowledged when
others were superior to him ; observing that Amphion2 was
a better composer, and Asclepiadorus more correct in propor¬
tion. Amongst all the stories of Pliny, the most delightful is
that of Apelles and Protogenes, which seems to be an au¬
thentic fact; and even if it were not, it would illustrate the
principles of Grecian art. Protogenes lived at Rhodes and
Apelles sailed to see him. Having landed, he called, and found
the artist “not at home.” Being shewn by an old woman
into his painting-room, he found a tablet with its wax ground
ready for a picture, and taking up a brush, drew an exquisite
line in colour down the tablet. Protogenes having return¬
ed, was shewn what had happened ; and, contemplating the
beauty of the form, he said it must be Apelles, as nobody else
could draw so perfect a work. He then took the brush and
drew another still more refined? saying, if the stranger call
again, shew him this, and say that that is what he is seeking.
Apelles returned, and blushing to see himself outdone, again
took a brush and drew a third, leaving nothing to be exceed¬
ed in refinement, (nullum relinquens amplius subtilitati lo¬
cum.) Protogenes when he saw this immediately sought his
visitor, saying that he could carry the line no further. The
tablet with these lines upon it, was considered by all the
Greek artists as a miracle of drawing. After the death of
Apelles and Protogenes, and the conquest of the Romans, it
was preserved in the palace of the Caesars on the Palatine
hill, w'here it was seen by Pliny containing nothing but three
TING. 55
fleeting lines (tres lineas effugientes) and yet superior to all Painting,
that was to be found in the finest works. Unfortunately it
was burned at the destruction of the palace.
Now comes the question, what were these lines which
could thus speak to artists who had never seen each other,
the common language of a common code of law for design.
“ Secuit lineal does not mean actually to cut the lines in
two, but in the technical idiom of English artists, to strike
a line. It was not the metal cestrum, but the hair brush,
and therefore cut in this sense could not have been meant.
To cut with a brush means to design with an air of power.
Three lines varied in shape would mean nothing, if nothing
was expressed ; but if some known contour of the body was
taken in repose, three variations of its position without al¬
teration would be as much as could be expected in the
contour. Suppose that Apelles drew a line from the clavi¬
cle A to the pubis B of a body in profile, shaping all the parts
as he went correctly like fig. 1. Next, suppose that Proto¬
genes having come in saw the line, and knew that in finely-
formed men, the stomach, from great exercise and temper¬
ate living, becomes small; the contour would curve in at C,
so that that portion of the rectus muscle would retire, as in
many of the Greek statues. He wrould then take the same
contour, draw it again on the wax tablet, and make this vari¬
ation. Again, suppose that Apelles returned and on see¬
ing himself vanquished, took the brush and drew the same
contour, allowing the variation of Protogenes, but remem¬
bering that in powerful men, the pyramidalis D, fig. 3, aris¬
ing from the pubis and going into the rectus, makes another
and the last variation. Then Protogenes returning, and
seeing that nothing more could be done unless the body was
altered in position, he would acknowledge the line to be com¬
pleted.
Fig. 1. Fig. 2. Fig 3
In Conduci’s Five Dialogues, it is stated that Michel An¬
gelo thought it must have been a contour of some part of
the body. Now, this singular contest would be felt by all
artists as one of the greatest utility. It would be wondered
at by connoisseurs, and would illustrate a great principle ;
namely, that a knowledge of construction was the basis of cor¬
rect design and the foundation of all beauty.
It wras the continual practice of this eminent man to do
something every day, whatever happened; and hence the
proverb, “ No day without a line.” If artists were to write
1 About the year 1100 of our era.
2 Junius (Dg Pictura Veteruni) only finds Amphion mentioned twice in ancient authors, and it is hence supposed that Echion would
be a better reading. .
56
PAINTING.
Painting, this over their painting-room doors, it would not be without
* ' advantage. Rubens rose at four, and was in his painting ti
five in the afternoon, with occasional variations. All the
greatest men of antiquity and of modern art, have been the
most diligent and the most industrious. And here is the most
celebrated of the tabular painters of antiquity afraid to let a
day pass without the use of the pencil. Apelles used also to
hide himself behind his works to hear the remarks of the pub¬
lic. This deference to the public voice evinced by sculptors,
painters, and statesmen, is a beautiful proof of the sense am
understanding of the time. Nothing was done in defiance
of public taste, but every thing in conformity to its dictates ;
and though this does and often did lead to great injustice in
political matters, in art the maxim is infallible. _
Apelles of Cous excited envy enough, and notwithstand¬
ing his graceful manners, his tender heart, and his accom
plished mind, when driven by stress of weather into Alexan¬
dria, the courtiers of Ptolemy, hating his superiority, and
fearing his probable fortune, sent him a pretended invitation
to sup with the king. Apelleswent; the king felt astonished
at the liberty, and sending to demand explanation, discovei-
ed the imposition. On inquiring if Apelles knew the person
who had given him the invitation, he immediately sketched Ins
face on the wall, and the king recognised the culprit. Courts,
kings, and people can onlyjudge of results. The infinite num¬
ber of repeated acts, the nulla dies sine linea, the failures, the
recoveries, the musings, the thinkings, that had taken place
with the “ cestrum cum lumine,” they had not witnessed ;
therefore, knowing their utter incapacity to do as Apelles did,
they concluded that he was a wonder, and he of course be¬
came a favourite. As an evidence of that peculiar tact by
which such men are sure to please kings and nobility, namely,
by the power of seizing the most agreeable expression ot any
sitter’s face, however ugly, and rendering his very defects a
cause of elegant concealment; he painted Antigonus, who
had lost one eye, in profile, concealed his defective eye, and
made him as graceful as if he were Alexander. This was
the great secret of his fortunes, as it was that of 1 itian s, V an-
dvke’s and Reynolds’; and though not to be compared m
point of taste or knowledge of the art, this was also the se¬
cret of the popularity of Lawrence, mere portrait painter as
he was, and nothing more. r, • n
Polygnotus, Pausias, Aristides, Timanthes, Zeuxis, Farr-
hasius, Pamphilus, Euphranor, and Timomachus did not so
completely gratify the vanity of their contemporaries, and
were not such personal favourites as Apelles; for there is no
gratitude equal to the gratitude of being successfully painted.
Kings bow to the unknown power of having their momen¬
tary expressions observed, seized, transferred, and fixed for
ages, and whilst colours and canvas last, carried on, for the
admiration of a distant age, when the existing one is past and
forgotten. What can equal the gratitude of a woman to have
her beauty preserved, whilst she is in her bl°om,lbr the ad¬
miration of her children when age has shrivelled her form,
or misfortune destroyed her happiness ? The world may be
elevated, excited, roused, by the commemoration of the gieat
deeds of ancestors or heroes ; but no sympathy is eve^x’
cited, and no personal vanities are ever so happily gratified
by any class of painters, as by the great portrait-painter. 1
degree of imagination required is not of that irresistible kind
which forces him to leave the model before him, using i on y
to realise his own burning conceptions, so that all likeness o
the individual is lost; he requires no more than to retain in
his mind the best expression of the individual before him o
identify it upon canvas. But it must be exactly like, or it is
nothing. After the likeness is completed, the sitter will have
no objection to the highest degree of embellishment. There
the great portrait-painter shews the degree of fancy wanted,
and he thatembellishes most, without losing resemblance, will Painting,
be the most welcomed, as Apelles was, by the world.
To put Apelles in comparison with Polygnotus is out of
the question. Highly-wrought individual figures, little more
than portraits of beautiful nature, cannot rank so high in the
judgment, though they may in the delicate sympathies of
the world. But that single terrific conception of the demon
Eurynome, for which no prototype in nature could be found,
that momentary blush which crimsoned his Cassandra,1 Aris¬
totle’s praise that he made men better than they were, and
Plato’s ranking him with Phidias, settles the question of his
greatness ; and as a portrait expression must be seen before
it can be done, and must be like or it is nothing, there is
an end of the highest quality of human genius, invention.
Indeed, whatever the vanity of the world may be inclined to
feel, the greatest portrait painter is but an inferior artist.
The age of Polygnotus and Phidias was the meridian age
of Greek art; and that of Apelles was the setting glory.
From the latter period it sunk gradually as if nature had been
exhausted by the previous effort. Such ages have never
since been seen ; such perfection had never been realized
before, and never will be again ; for in order to become such
sculptors and painters, men must also become idolaters.
But to return and conclude the notice of Apelles, this court-
favourite of antiquity. Notwithstanding the education ot
Alexander by Aristotle, notwithstanding that rj ypafyucr] was a
portion of his education, Alexander was little more than a glo¬
rious barbarian in art. He talked so absurdly in the painting-
room of Apelles, that the artist was obliged to request that his
majesty would be cautious, lest the boys should laugh as they
ground their colours. Apelles may be considered as the
Titian of Greek art, with the addition of all that vast know¬
ledge of form, which every painte’* and every school was ob¬
liged to master. But the disposition to perfect single figures,
and the acknowledgment that others exceeded him in compo¬
sition, clearly point out the extent of his fertility. Though
Pliny describes many beautiful pictures, his greatest are sin¬
gle figures. His Venus Anadyomene was the most celebrat¬
ed of all his works; but being painted upon wood, it was des¬
troyed by insects in the time of Augustus. He began ano¬
ther, and having completed it as far as the bosom, died; but
although the contours were completed for finishing, nobody
would venture to touch it, such was the extreme veneration
entertained for him. By this description we see the nature
of the Greek process; first, the ground, then the drawing in,
next the impasto preparation, and then the completion part
by part. He had got the picture finished as far as the bosom ;
and therefore to finish highly by degrees was his system. He
was not deficient in expression, for he painted persons dying
with great power. His imitation must have been perfect,
for his painted horses are said to have made real horses neigh;
and his colour must have been exquisite, for he glazed like
the Venetian school. Pliny mentions him as one ot those
who painted with four colours ; but this is a mistake ; for it
was in the age of Polygnotus that blue was not used. From
a passage in Cicero,2 it appears that that age was famous for
“ form and contour;” whereas, according to the same writer,
all things were perfect in the works of Protogenes, Nicho-
machus, Echion, and Apelles.
Pliny is therefore right in saying that pictures which con¬
stituted the opulence of towns, were painted with four colours
only ; but he is not as clear as usual in regard to the period
to which this observation applies. Quintilian, calling the
colour of Polygnotus “ simplex color,” seems to indicate the
absence of blue ; whilst red, yellow, black, and white did not
produce such gorgeous splendour as in the age of Apelles.
Thus Quintilian, as well as Cicero, collaterally proves Pliny
to be in part right. It is extraordinary that Reynolds did not
1 Lucian.
* Brutus, c- 18.
PAINTING.
Fainting, allude to the absence of blue in the enumeration of Pliny.
Great depth, fine tone, simplicity, and modesty, can be ob¬
tained without blue, but never that tremendous magnificence
produced by the contrast of the deep and awful azures of I itian.
Though Polygnotusdid not use blue, his black was made from
vine-stalks and wine-lees,1 which render blackmoreblue than
the ivory black of Apelles, which was discovered by him,
and is used to this hour in Europe. There were several of
the same name, but Apelles Cous distinguishes the great
Apelles, as Aristides Thebanus does the great Aristides.
After this long account of the courtly, accomplished, and
highly-wrought Apelles, there may be something interest¬
ing to allude to Aristides the “ great master of expression,”
as Fuseli calls him. He was the first who painted deep
human emotions, fierce passions, and distressing perturba¬
tions ; but he was hard in colour, says Pliny, and not so har¬
monious as Apelles, probably like Raffaelle, the great Italian
master of expression, in comparison with Titian. His finest
picture was that of a mother dying from a wound which she
had received in the sacking of her native city. Her infant
was trying to reach the nipple with its boneless gums, whilst
the mother, faint and exhausted, appeared struggling to save
it from sucking, lestbloodmight mingle with its nourishment;
a tender and affecting thought. Alexander was so touched
by this picture at Thebes, when the city was taken, that
he sent it to Pella.2
Protogenes was another of the great men of this time.
It is indeed extraordinary to reflect how genius in art and
literature seems always to come in clusters in every coun¬
try. He was born at a small town on the coast of Asia Minor,
subject to the Rhodians ; and he got his living till he was
fifty years old, in great poverty, painting beautiful ornaments
for the prows of ships. He was not a man of fertile inven¬
tion, and spent years over single works, which induced Apel¬
les to say that he never knew when he had finished. His
celebrated work was Talissus, which occupied him seven
years. Titian took eight to paint the Pietro Martyre, and
seven to finish the Last Supper for Charles V. ;3 and yet
in Titian’s works there is no appearance of over diligence.
Pliny says he painted his pictures four times over, so that
if one picture was destroyed another might be ready. No¬
thing shews so completely the exact degree of knowledge
which Pliny had of art as this absurd conclusion from an
admirable practice. Protogenes proceeded with his works
as Titian did, by stages ; and each stage was a separate im-
pasto of colour, which helped the next till completed. Of
this artist the story is told of his flinging his sponge at a
dog’s mouth in a rage, because he had vainly tried to hit
breath coming out of it, and by that accident succeeding;
a circumstance which shews that it was tempera painting,
for a sponge would not have done for wax. Such a habit of
daily application had Protogenes, that when Demetrius be¬
sieged Rhodes, he would not leave his painting-room, but
proceeded daily in his studies amidst the noise of battering
rams and catapultae. The king came often to visit him ;
and that part of the town where he worked was. spared, and
the picture thus finished was said to have been done at the
point of the sword. Protogenes painted the mother of Aris¬
totle ; and the philosopher urged him to execute the battles
of Alexander; but he was not a man of rapid conception or
fertile invention for a series, and could not be moved.
It is curious to reflect, that all the great painters painted
portraits; which proves that they thought it essential to that
truth which was the foundation of their ideal beauty. Indeed,
every great painter should paint a portrait a month ; and
57
if, like the Greeks, he has always nature for his works, he Painting,
never can degenerate into manner.
Of the other painters, Asclepiodorus was celebrated for pro¬
portion ; Nicomachus for rapidity of hand, and Theon for wild
conceptions, “ quas Graeci vocant fyavrcurias.” Pliny places
Theon amongst the herd, whilst Quintilian and iElian place
himamongst the illustrious, where heoughtto be. He paint¬
ed a single warrior dashing forward on the spectators ; and
collecting the public, he kept the picture behind a curtain,
when in the midst of a blast of trumpets, the curtain was
dropped, and the wonderful figure terrified the people. He
also painted Orestes, distracted and insane, and proved him¬
self a great and wild inventor. The three remaining great
men of the fine period, were Pausias, Euphranor, and Timo-
machus. No passage has excited so much discussion as the
well known one in Pliny, where he says, “ nulla gloria artifi-
cum est, nisiqui tabulas^m^re,” as if he meant that the only
glory in art consisted in tabular pictures, “ irivaKes,” on wood,
and that there was but little in monumental and mural efforts.
Pliny, however, does not here contrast the tabular pictures
of Apelles with the mural paintings of Polygnotus, but with
the works of one Ludius, a Roman, a mere ornamental
landscape-painter upon walls, like our Bond Street paper
painters. This was much the fashion in Pliny’s time, which
he laments; and many examples of the same species may
now be seen in Pompeii.
Having thus described the fancies and caprices by which
the art had been degraded, Pliny turns to the highly beau¬
tiful tabular works of Apelles, and observes natui ally enough;
“ This is not the thing ; the glory of art and of artists con¬
sists in the Venus of Apelles, the mother of Aristides, the
lalysus of Protogenes, and not in this mechanical whim,
which is not the glory and the end of painting.” This, per¬
haps, is the explanation which he wnuld give if he were alive
and able to answer us. Is it not unjust then to take up such
groundas M. Raoul-Rochettehas done in France, and Payne
Knight in England, and infer that there was no real glory in
any other mode of painting ? The ancients estimated mural
painting at Delphi, as the Italians do in the Vatican. But
they did not undervalue tabular painting, small pictures, en¬
caustic, landscapes, or humour ; they painted in every style
and they excelled in all.
Pliny now proceeds to the encaustic painters, of whom
Pausias and Euphranor appear to have been the greatest.
Pausias was a master of foreshortening, as we learn from
Pliny’s description of a bull which he painted in front
and projecting beyond the tablet. After Pausias came the
Isthmian Euphranor, who wrote on symmetry and colour,
painted great and small works, and delineated statues and
animals. He said of his Theseus, that “ it was real flesh,
whilst that of Parrhasius had fed on roses.” Ihen came
Nicias who painted women beautifully, understood light and
shadow, and was another pillar of art. Metrodorus was both
a philosopher and a painter ; and when the victorious Paulus
desired Perseus to send him a philosopher to educate his
children, and a painter to arrange his triumph, Metrodorus
was despatched as a person capable of executing both tasks.
Timomachus is the last of this splendid list whom it is neces¬
sary to mention. He died, like Apelles, leaving an important
work unfinished.
Such were the most illustrious men of the three finest (jjory and
periods of Greek painting. The first period of Greek art decline of
was that before Pericles ; the second, or that of Pericles Greek art.
himself, was the finest, the highest, and the purest in paint¬
ing, sculpture, and architecture; the third was the epoch
1 See Pliny, lib. xxxv. The sea in the Venus Anadyomene is quoted as a proof that blue must have been used. But where is there
any blue in Vandervelde ? We do not think that a picture exists with blue in his sea.
8 Raffaelle imitated this in his plague, where a fine youth is putting away an infant from a dying mother’s bosom ; but the utter want
of taste in making the hoy hold his nose for fear of infection, renders the sentiment not pathetic but at once disgusting and ridiculous.
3 See, in Ridolphi, Titian’s letter to the emperor.
VOL. XVII. H
58
Painting.
Effects of
the con¬
quest of
Greece.
PAINTING.
of Alexander, the most refined, but prophetic of the corrup¬
tion which followed ; then came the subjugation of the Ho¬
mans, when the noblest works of the Greeks were seized
as tribute, or matters of right, and Italy was inundated by
the productions of Greek talent.
This influx of foreign productions entirely suttocated
native Italian genius. Greek productions became matters ot
painted the Sistine Chapel, Raffaelle when he entered the Painting.
Vatican, or Phidias when he adorned the Parthenon ; that
supernatural, incomprehensible something, which inspires
hope, “when the whole world seems adverse to desert,” was
gone from the earth like the glory which had blazed in the
temple. All that the savage, splendid, imperial Romans
could do, all the honours and riches they had to confer, were
formed to produce genius, which had sprung up from na¬
tional demand without a single gallery or a single collec¬
tion of any works, except the productions of their native soil.
The most celebrated works were copied and re-copied by
the Greeks in all parts of the Mediterranean. Horace al¬
ludes to this ; and there can be no doubt whatever that the
effect was to render all native attempts of the Romans and
Etruscans no longer available. For not one great artist is
named during the whole period of progressive decay from the
Caesars to Constantine; and the Romans or Latins never pro¬
duced any talent worth consideration till the revival ot art in
Italy, after so many ages, in the fifteenth century. Then, the
same principle operating, and the church and state demand¬
ing art as an assistant, outpoured an abundance of native ta¬
lent, because there was a vent, as there had been before, in
Greece, Egypt, and Chaldaea; and the genius of Rome, b lo-
rence, Pisa, and Venice, vindicated their long suppressed
claims to originality. Amongst the illustrious Romans,
Tulius Caesar seems to have been a magnificent collector ,
hut whether, like Napoleon, he was also a magnificent patron
of the talent of his time is not known. He bought Greek
pictures, and presented them to Roman temples ; but one
work of native art, produced by native patronage, is more
honour both to patron and to artist than a gallery of foreign
pictures be they ever so divine. .
Upon the whole, before tracing art from its decay to its
revival, we cannot but acknowledge as evident, that a period
of dearth in genius has generally succeeded in the world to
one of prolific production. In painting and sculpture, second¬
ary causes, such as the nature of the government, or the circum¬
stances of the two arts being required for political purposes,
may considerably facilitate the development of genius. But
it is not so with the poet. He can give vent to his immortal
thoughts in poverty or wretchedness, independently of the
taste of the times, or the patronage of the state. Milton, in
obscurity and blindness, wrote Paradise Lost; and Savage, in
poverty and wretchedness, composed his Bastard \n the
ed, and Augustus was said “ to have found Rome thatched,
and left it marbled.”
Not Babylon
Nor great Alcairo, such magnificence
Equalled in all their glories, to enshrine
Belus or Serapis2 their gods, or seat
Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove
In wealth and luxury.
Claudius built a superb aqueduct, and Nero burned3 and
rebuilt a golden palace ; but he could not replace the lines
of Apelles and Protogenes, or the miracles of Timanthes
and Aristides, which perished in the conflagration. Galba,
Otho, and Vetellius were hurried through life and empire
too rapidly for art; whilst Vespasian and Titus bewildered
the Romans with their Cyclopean masses. Hadrian, him¬
self an artist, endeavoured to recover art by indiscriminately
encouraging Etruscans, Greeks, and Romans ; “ but such a
medley of principle as their works displayed, says Agm-
court,4 “ hastened the decay of art, and rendered the emper¬
or hopeless of reviving it.” The art thus went floundering
on until Diocletian, with all the gorgeous splendour of an
eastern monarch, mingled together Roman, Greek, and ori¬
ental art, and corrupting all taste led to its extinction. It was
between the reign of Commodus and that of Constantine,
that those causes were generated which undermined the em¬
pire, and brought art, science, and literature into the chasm.
Of forty emperors who, from the second to the fourth cen¬
tury had struggled for the diadem and obtained it, twenty
had been murdered by the army and the people. “ Amsi
says Montesquieu “ comme la grandeur de la republique, fut
fatale au gouvernement republicain, la grandeur de 1 em¬
pire le fut a la vie des empereurs.”* Constantine’s remo¬
val of the seat of empire did not so much begin the destruc¬
tion of art as complete it; for previous causes, domestic and
political, had been preparing the ruin for centuries before.
Agincourt thinks that as far as art is concerned, too much Age of
has been attributed to this removal of the empire. But yet Constan-
the first epoch of what may be called modern art in oppo-™e.
.  • a Artist Ck intrnflnir>Yl of CHirist-
streets, begging bits of paper as he walked, when he had ^ — ^^must date from the introduction of Christ-
more thoughtsthan his mind could contain, and thus, as effec- sition to when the whole moral feelings of
tually preserved them as if he had been br^ Pf / GreJk anq Romans took another turn in painting and sculp-
had sheets of the finest hot-pressed to recei ture< Although Constantine only grafted Christianity on
tions.1 , f ^ Pao-anism and founded more Catholicism than Christianity,
Inferiority After the of Greece, and theremova by meeting and uniting the prejudices of both Pagans and
Jf the Ho artists to Rome, the genius of painting seems to have leR °y S surely if genius could ever be created by
man school, the world. The Roman school of painting and sculp^ Ghnstian8 y yof Cgonstantine, and those of Charle-
is scarcely worth a ^ngle t^ Magnet and Louis XIV. ought to have rivalled those of Pe-
republic the art sunk rapidly. Augustus tried to rev ^ ^ ^ was the rage for splendour in this
but though the pupils and descendan s ° ^ writ_ rei that the quarries of Phrygian marble and of the isle
tto?Apellet EuSal, a^d SpMus, Je all in ex- of Proconnesna, were almost destroyed to fltmish,palaces
istence, and their principles known and acted upon, genius
was nowhere to be found. That divine *Par 'y1 1 s a
tendant whisper, unseen but not unheard, whic ever a
tends the gifted who are born for great objects, w.e^ 1
supported Columbus amidst the storms of the Atlantic, Alex¬
ander as he plunged into Asia, Napoleon as he rushe m o
Italy, Wellington at Waterloo, Michel Angelo when he
for the emperor, his sons, and his ministers. Temples,
palaces, forums, triumphal arches, colossal statues, an hip¬
podrome, and eight public baths were built and adorned at
once ; and in addition, splendid commissions were given to
the painters for pictures of Christ, the Virgin, the prophets,
and the apostles. Rome, Naples, Capua, Antioch, Tyre,
Jerusalem, and even Bethlehem, felt the effects of this mag-
' See Johnson’s Lives of the Poets, art. Savage. llable of Serapis short, whereas it is in reality long, Serapis;
2 In tms beautiful passage, the immortal author has made tue pe y
an error which could scarcely have been expected in one who was a great sc o P ^ ^ ^ pomainSi
3 Tacitus does not seem altogether to believe it. 4 Agmcourt, Histoire de l Art, tom-1- ^
PAINTING.
59
Painting, nificent employment; but what were the results to paint-
Nothing, absolutely nothing, to guide anybody except
the antiquary ; and if any evidence were wanting to show
that the genius and the patron must exist together, or the
result will be nothing, the end of Constantine’s splendour
would abundantly supply it.
The moral character of ancient Greece was gone; the
instinct of public glory was passed; their olive crowns, the
adequate reward of talent on a great principle, were sneered
at; and “ Lucian,” (as the author of the Discours Histor-
ique observes) “ had already ridiculed this tribunal,” which
had listened with rapture to Herodotus, and crowned Action
for a fine picture, and which in its days of Marathonian glory,
had done more than ever was done before or since in rous¬
ing human effort, mental and bodily, to its highest pitch of
excellence. Luxury, indolence, vice, fanaticism, cant, so¬
phistry, intrigue, and imposture, had supplanted the pure as¬
pirations of patriotism and glory. “ The great and the
opulent,” says Pliny and Vitruvius, “ were fonder of gold
and glitter than purity of design or pathos of expression, or
perfection of form; overwhelmed with colours from all the
countries of the earth, with double the advantages of Polyg-
notus, and Zeuxis, and Aristides,” who painted with four
only, “ nulla nobilis pictura est.” Of course, this is al¬
ways the end, when the moral and national importance of
painting is undervalued. When native art is despised, and
spurious foreign productions are preferred; when connois¬
seurs of what is past abound, and connoisseurs of what is
passing exist not; when painting is considered as a bauble
or a bit of furniture, and painters share dignity with upholster¬
ers and gilders, what wonder if “ nulla pictura” is the cry ?
Gold and vermilion being thus introduced upon the walls
of palaces and preferred to beautiful art, in came arabes¬
ques. Claudius had before introduced Indian patterns and
mosaic pictures, which had hitherto been kept for pave¬
ments, till Commodus, for the sake of a new sensation, had
a portrait in his palace of Piscennius Niger,1 painted in
mosaic, which may be considered as the first picture of this
description. When painting was in this staggering condi¬
tion, Justinian gave it a final blow by ordering encaustic
and distemper designs, as vulgar, to be banished from ceil¬
ings and walls, and mosaic, marble, and gold, to be pre¬
ferred. Though mosaic was perhaps one of the means of
preserving art and of introducing it into Italy, yet it should
only be used in pavements, or to preserve the works of great
masters. The anti-pagan zeal of the early Christians is
well known. They used to put ropes round the necks of
Apollos and Venuses to try them publicly, like criminals,
find them guilty, and pound them to dust. But human na¬
ture is always the same. A thousand years afterwards a
similar scene was acted in Scotland by John Knox and the
reformers, nor had England escaped the fury of iconoclasm.
Eusebius2 informs us that in the empire whole towns rose
and destroyed the temples in which they had just worshipped.
The air echoed with the noise of hammers, the crashing of
pediments, the breaking of pillars, and the shouts of a mad¬
dened and frenzied populace. The finest works of Phidias,
Scopas, Polycletus, and Praxiteles, and all that was left of
Polygnotus, Apelles, Zeuxis, or Euphranor, were demolished
or burned, like wretches who had infected religion, and their
ashes were danced on with fanatical exultation. So great in¬
deed had been the destruction, that when Arcadius and
Honorius issued a fresh edict to go on destroying, they
added, as well they might, “ Si qua etiam nunc in templis
fanisque consistent, “ If any pictures or statues are still left.”
During this frenzy was introduced into art, painting with¬
out nature., and after producing a race of monsters down to
Golzius and Spranger, there began the cant of “ nature put- Painting,
ting an artist out.” What Zeuxis did not dare to do, what
Apelles never thought of, what Phidias never permitted to
be mentioned in his school, a parcel of painters brought into
practice by the very mysticism of their impossible theories.
Man was corrupt, being born in sin and vicious in practice ;
to take him as a model therefore when painting holy subjects,
was to act under the influence of Satan. Man was banished,
and so was woman, and nature in every thing ; till at last all
painters painted in one way, and in came manner into the great
art of nature, and like a “ leperous distillment” stained her
garment and poisoned her beauty. Yet the traditional maxims
of the ancient fathers, on beauty and art, give one a very
good idea of what were the maxims of the finer Pagan peri¬
ods. “ Art is nothing but an imitation of nature,” says St.
Athanasius, (Orat. contr. Gent. c. xviii. p. 18.) “Ancient
artists sought to surpass each other by faithful imitation,”
(Arnob. Advers. Gent, lib.vi.fol. 68) “ Nature is the arche¬
type, art the image ; every image has a model, and painters
imitate what they see,” (Theodoret.) “ Imitation is the
merit of painting; be not seduced by an illusion,” (St. Cle¬
ment.) “ When begging the people not to be seduced by
pictures and statues as if they were gods, tell them that pic¬
tures and statues are imitations of nature, and therefore
cannot be gods.” These maxims of the fourth century had
clearly descended from a nobler era. Besides the treatises
of Apelles, Euphranor, and Pamphilus, were all in existence,
and were read by the educated and accomplished ; and we
see how skilfully the fathers of the church tried to save fine
works from destruction, by assuring the people that they
were mere imitations of life, for such was the principle of
artists. Are not these quotations then collateral evidences of
the practice of the Greeks, if we had known nothing of the
girls of Crotona sitting to Zeuxis ?
But Christianity was at first the ruin of art, by making influence
purity of heart every thing, and physical ugliness, or defer- 0f Chnsti-
mity, nothing; by teaching that as all beautiful works of artanity on
were remnants of idolatry, they ought to be destroyed; and the arts,
by inculcating that mankind being corrupt and born in sin,
no Christian painter ought to look at the naked figure whilst
he was painting it. Add to these prejudices, the predilec¬
tion of eastern nations for gold and silver, the preference of
eastern dresses to the simplicity of Greek clothing, the con¬
troversies which took place as to whether our Saviour was
ugly or handsome, and the vehemence with which Pagans
and Christians both entered into them; and no one can won¬
der at the state into which painting declined.
The division of opinion about the person of Christ, and Represen-
the dread of the early Fathers to expose the cross to Pa-tations of
gans, who, familiar with golden-locked Apollos and perfum- Christ,
ed Venuses, could not comprehend that suffering and ma¬
jestic pains were founded upon a higher philosophy, so em¬
barrassed the painters, that to avoid collision they painted
Christ as an allegory thus lingering with their Greek feel¬
ings about the form of beauty and of grace. It must be
interesting to all readers thus to trace the progress of feeling
relating to the head of Christ.3 In the fourth, fifth, and sixth
centuries, beauty and youth still predominated ; and he is
painted youthful and handsome, crushing the lion under
his feet, or as a young shepherd with his flock. With alle¬
gory the beauty of our Saviour ended, whilst the Fathers of
the church, like the priests of Egypt, interfered, and issued
an edict ordering him to be represented in agony on the
cross. But here the order was evaded. The Greeks still
struggled for the beautiful, and as if it were the never-dying
principle of their souls, painted our blessed Saviour dying
upon the cross, but smiling with triumphant glory as if re-
1 Spartian, In Vita Pise. Nig. cap. 6. * Montesq. Decadence des Bomains, 133.
3 St. Augustin declares that in his time no faces of Christ or the Virgin were known, and that no pictures were painted of them be¬
fore the council of Ephesus; yet there are seven reported originals, four of which are by St. Luke’s own hand, now in Rome.
60
Painting-
PAINTING.
Epoch of
Charle¬
magne.
ioicing in his sacrifice. In whatever the Greeks were com-
' pelled to do, beauty seemed still to be the basis of their art.
By degrees, however, the poor descendants of Apelles and
Polygnotus finding no employment except on the conditions
prescribed, the person of Christ became gradually degraded
in art; and at the separation of the Latin church, to pain
him uo-ly, bloody and agonized, was the settled principle ot
representation, and has more or less influenced his represen¬
tation ever since. There seems to be some doubt as to the ex-
tentofthe devastation committed by the Goths. Alaric stayed
but three days in Rome, and Attila had himself painted in one
of his Milan palaces seated on a throne, and receiving the
homage of a Roman emperor.1 Theodoric seems to have
had a very good feeling for art. He laments, in a letter to
Symmachus, the ruins of works of genius, begs their preser¬
vation, and concludes with observing that Rome has still a
population of statues with herds of bronze horses, i he ex¬
pulsion of the Goths and the invasion of the Lombards, again
afflicted the art; but it had found its way into France, and
the churches of Paris, Tours, Bordeaux and Clermont, were
ornamented by native painters. ,11 a
Though the popes had begun to adorn the churches, and
art in the earliest times had been kept alive with consider¬
able talent in the catacombs in Rome ; though Lurope had
been astonished by the splendour of the ecclesiastical patron¬
age of painters ; yet the next great epoch after Constantine
originates in the efforts of the illustrious Charlemagne. lie
formed the plan of renovating art, science and literature; and
he would have accomplished his object, if the genius of the
age had been worthy of the emperor. The ancient practice
of painting churches, kept alive by previous popes, he con¬
firmed by a law ; and agents every year visited the provin¬
ces to see that the lawwas observed. If a royal church was to
be painted, the bishops and abbots were responsible, if, in the
midst of a campaign, an order was issued for a church, one
to paint the walls was included; and no church was con¬
sidered as finished till that was done, the object of the em¬
peror being to obliterate the remembrance of the splendid
altars of the Pagans, by still more magnificent Christian or¬
naments. “ Repair your church,” says the archbishop of
Treves ; “ you know the decision of the emperor.
Two monkish painters of the time are celebrated; and
France and Britain began even at this early period, to take
an interest in the arts. Biscop, abbot of Weremouth, had
broughtpictures from Italy. Charlemagne had invited king
Offra to protect painting, with but little effect; yet though
the walls of English churches were whitewashed, the Lnglisli
began to adorn the ceilings and the windows, and hung ta-
PC In Spain, the Arabians had introduced their art, such as it
could be, under the prohibition of Mohammed ; and minia¬
tures or manuscripts were so eagerly bought all over u-
rope, that the artists in France, Germany and Italy, devoted
themselves to this production; though here again it was
acknowledged by all, that they were beaten by the Greeks.
In spite of all this, the art continued to decay; andatthe se¬
cond Council of Nice the members gave evidence of the state
.0 which monks and bishops had reduced it. ow
painters be blamed?” saythey; “ the painter
Invention and composition belong to the Fathers , t
iiloneisthe painters’.” Inadvertently, too, tie emperor m
jured the art by altering the dress of his cavalry an 00 .
The women as usual followed the example, and having re
linquished the pure taste of the Greeks, dress has in conse
quence become an annual novelty and change. The a a in
and his horse were covered with iron and mail; angles an
straight lines predominated; the naked form was more than
ever concealed, and the artist deprived of his materials.
Though the art suffered at the death of Charlemagne, yet Painting,
it was kept alive by monks and by bishops. At Rome, at
Palermo, and at Milan, religious painters preserved itfrom de- ^
cay ; they sprung up all over Europe, and even St. Uunstan,
Archbishop of Canterbury, is spoken of as a skilful painter
and maker of instruments. , t
It is curious, after all that has been written about oil
painting, and the discovery made by John Van Eyk, to find a
writer of this period called Eraclius, in a treatise on painting,
speaking of oil painting : “ De omnibus coloribus cum oleo
distemperatis.” Another monk wrote a treatise, in which
he says, “ he will tell the world how the Greeks mixed
their colours.” Now, as according to Suidas, the writings of
Apelles and Euphranor, were in existence in the tenth cen¬
tury, and these people lived about that time, there is reason
to believe that they were aware of oil painting having been
practised in ancient Greece, and that subsequent discove¬
ries were but different revivals. . .
Whilst the art feebly struggled on in the west, the court
of Constantine Porphyrogenituswasthe rendezvous of artists,
and in 997 St. Mark was built at Venice by Greeks, in
contrasting Greek with Roman art at this time, the Greek is
still superior. The Greek composition did not want dignity,
whilst in the Roman, all sound principle seemed dead. I he
most ignorant Greeks shewed taste in their draperies, and their
heads have character, and in the arrangement of hair, they
remind one of the Panathenaic procession ; whilst the Ho¬
mans, with their large heads and long limbs, evince a gross
ignorance of beauty. . , ,
b In the tenth century, tapestry for a time superseded
painting; though in Germany, France, Italy and England,
many painters flourished. In England, historical comme¬
morations were in fashion, and the Duchess of Northum¬
berland adorned Ely Cathedral with a series of pictures
illustrating the deeds of her distinguished lord. ^ liei1
William the Conqueror came, he introduced a new style ot
architecture ; but both at York and Canterbury, paintings
then adorned the walls. In 1013, ahead of Christ was exe¬
cuted in mosaic, and is still considered as the wonder of the
middle ages. . . ,
After so many vicissitudes of fortune, painting now began Symptom*
to shew symptoms of revival. Frescos had been executed m 0 reviv
Rome in 498,and in795; and there was a head of Christ paint¬
ed in St. John Lateran, and still to be there seen, which
gave evidence of great feeling. But the grand impulse was
given in the year 1066, when St.Didier sent for Greek artists
to adorn Monte Casino at Subiaco. The example was fol¬
lowed. Pisa, Venice, Amalfi, Genoa, and Milan, ml muni¬
cipal corporations rivalled each other; and when Pisa sent
to Greece to collect as many splendid remains of art as could
be obtained to adorn the dome of the city, Buschetto, a cele¬
brated Greek architect, was engaged to superintend their
embarkation, to accompany them during the voyage, and to
land them safely for the purchasers. Buschetto was received
with so much enthusiasm, that he founded a school of sculp¬
ture, which existed for two hundred years ; and ultimate y
out of this very Greek school, came the great artist Nicolo
Pisano, the head of the Italico-Pisan school. From this
moment art, after having sunk to the lowest barbarism, went
on improving till the taking of Constantinople by Moham¬
med II., an event which scattered the Greeks collected at
that court all over Europe. Hundreds went to Italy as paint¬
ers, sculptors, chasers, and mosaic painters ; and by their
struggles for existence, inoculated Italian artists with some
remnant of their taste for beauty, decayed as it was. Cima-
bue was their pupil, and Giotto was his. The Catholic churcn
wanted artists, and genius again began to shew itself. One
man of genius appeared after another, till Michel Angelo,
1 Suidas.
2 William of Malmesbury.
s Concil. Nic. ii. act. vi. tom. iv. ed. 1714.
♦ Strutt.
PAINTING.
61
Painting. Leonardo, Raffaelle, Titian, and Corregio, were the glorious
results. And though it cannot be denied that the high as¬
pirations of Christianity, by placing every thing human on
its proper level on earth, in comparison with eternal happi¬
ness, had justly prostrated the splendid beauty of Pagan
art, by exposing its idolatrous tendencies ; though the suf¬
ferings, and the agonies of its founder and its martyrs had
revived its pathos with higher objects than mere beauty of
form or face, and saved painting and sculpture from ex¬
tinction ; yet it must be acknowledged, that the beauty of
Christian art has never rivalled the indisputable perfection
of the Pagans. To their enthusiastic overestimate of the
religious value of physical, as emblematic of moral beauty,
is their perfection attributable ; but if it can only be revived
by some similar delusion, the result will in our opinion more
than atone for any thing that seems doubtful or questionable
in the principle.
The most eminent pictures of the middle ages, setting aside
the cemeteries or catacombs, which cannot legitimately be
referred to the middle ages, but to the earliest ages of
Christianity, are to be found in Rome. The greatest works
of the middle ages are the series of Popes, begun in the fifth
century, and continued down to the present time. The next,
which was executed in the year 1011, is the painting of the
church of St. Urbano, where some of the acts of the Apos¬
tles are represented on the walls. Though the mosaics of
St. Mark’s, executed by Greeks, were earlier, and kept art
alive, yet, according to Lanzi, nothing in reality appeared
which gave symptoms of the approach of any thing extraor¬
dinary, till about the thirteenth century ; and this revolu¬
tion of style was entirely owing to sculpture.
Italian The glory of this art belongs partly to the Tuscans, the le-
schools of gitimate descendants of the ancient Etruscans, but most es-
painting— pecially to the Pisans, who first had the courage to burst the
The Tus- y0jce Greek art in its fallen state had imposed upon
Pisano them> and to go at once to the antique ; and this glory be-
1San°‘ longs to Nicolo Pisano, a pupil of the school originally found¬
ed by the Greek Buschetto. There were in Pisa several
ancient sarcophagi, but especially one, containing the body
of Beatrice, mother of the Countess Matilda, with a bas-re¬
lief in good style, which served as the model of Nicolo ; on
this he formed his style, in which there is something of the
antique, especially in his heads and draperies. Many artists
who had not done so before, immediately devoted them¬
selves to sculpture ; and Nicolo Pisano must be considered
as the first Italian, who opened the eyes of his contemporaries
to the true principle of using the antique, that is, keeping
nature in view at the moment of practice. In 1231 he cut
an urn in Bologna, whence he was called “ Nicolo of the
urn;” and he produced two stories of the last judgment at
Orvieto, and another work at Pisa, which convinced the
world that he was born to found an epoch. He executed
other great works, and was really the head of the illustrious
school which produced Orcagna, Donatello, and the famous
Lorenzo Ghiberti, who made the beautiful bronze doors of
which Michel Angelo said, that they were worthy to be the
gates of paradise.
Many other eminent men came from his school. All Italy
was more or less affected by Pisano’s genius; and though a
sculptor, his effect on design was so great, that he must
be considered as having had a material influence on paint¬
ing. Painting remained behind sculpture, and even mo¬
saic ; and Vasari exaggerates the effect of Cimabue’s ap¬
pearance in the year 1240; for Lanzi proves that there were
Pisan painters of talent before that period, and that the
early art does not in the first instance owe so much to the
Florentines as Vasari has asserted. At Assisi there is a
crucifixion by Guinta Pisano, who, according to an inscrip- Painting,
tion, learned his art from the Greeks in 1210. This was be-v'-*“V"w
fore Cimabue ; but Lanzi says that the work is not inferior
to Cimabue, and in drapery, colour, light, and shadow, com¬
position and expression, very like the contemporary Greeks.
Guinta disappeared and died, nobody knows where or how.
Guido di Sienna was another name of this early period. In
the Louvre there were some exquisite heads of angels with
gilt glories, full of beauty and expression, executed by this
artist. Then followed Margaritone, who painted on canvas,
covered with size and plaster for a ground ; which the Egyp¬
tians, Greeks, and Romans, had done long before his time.
During the time that the neighbouring cities had found¬
ed a new style, Florence had no painters ; but when the au¬
thorities called in some Greeks in 1250, it is asserted that
there was a painter called Bartolomeo. Vasari wishes of
course to infer that Cimabue was the first Italian painter
who gave the impulse ; but Lanzi proves the contrary.
Although there is no city we owe so much to as Florence,
yet the Florentines ought not to be allowed to deprive their
old enemies of the honour of having produced earlier pain¬
ters, besides Pisano.
Cimabue, who was both architect and painter, was honour- Cimabue.
ably descended. That he might have been the scholar of
Guinta is probable, because the Italians knew more than the
Greeks of that time; but there is every reason to believe
that he learnt of those Greeks who had been called to Flo¬
rence, and whom, according to Vasari, he stood whole days,
when a boy, watching as they painted in Santa Maria No¬
vella. From this moment indeed may be dated the excite¬
ment which impelled him to become a painter. At As¬
sisi his genius seems to have been put forth with most power.
Lanzi concludes the notice of him by saying, that Cimabue
was the Michel Angelo, and Giotto the Raffaelle of his age.
In the Louvre there were one or two large examples of Vir¬
gins, staring and Gothic, and which the French, still more
Gothic, were absolutely repainting.1 Vigorous in his colour,
and colossal but ill-proportioned in his figures, Cimabue first
gave indications of attempting something new in painting ;
indeed, his watching the Greeks all day is so like an infatu¬
ated youth, that it bears truth on the face of it. Florence
was often in commotion when his works appeared ; and
although he was not actually the oldest painter, he was the
first of that series which ended in Raffaelle. His style was
meagre, his drapery sharp, and his colour a species of illu¬
mination ; but though he had no light and shadow or per¬
spective, he was a great man for his time; and in some of
his heads there are both character and expression.
Men of genius assist to call forth men of genius. In the Giotto,
neighbourhood of Florence, Cimabue accidentally found a
youth tending sheep, and trying to draw one upon a slate.
After some conversation with the boy, finding the youth am¬
bitious to become an artist, he consulted his father, took
him immediately under his own tuition, and advanced him
rapidly. Cimabue was amply repaid for his generous con¬
duct, as the innocent youth was Giotto, afterwards one of
the great men of the time. No man can judge of Giotto s
genius in England, because fragments of single heads or bits
of altar pieces, are no fair criteria of a genius like his. His
series of pictures in the Campo Santo are admirable, if allow¬
ance be made for the taste and simplicity of the age; but there
are many actions and positions of Giotto, as fine as can be con¬
ceived, and which other artists by aggrandising in form, have
rendered models of imitation. He was the friend of Dante,
and painted the portrait of the great poet. He seems to
have been a facetious and amiable man as well as a genius,
and was indisputably the greatest painter till Massaccio. He
1 The writer of this article, who saw a Frenchman solidly repainting a large picture of Cimabue in the private rooms of the Louvre,
where he was admitted by Denon, asked the Frenchman who it was by; “Monsieur,” said he, “ je ne suis pas peintre, je suis restaurateur."
G2
PAINTING.
Painting, went about Italy scattering seeds every where, and when
the Papal See was moved to Avignon, he went with the court.
Giotto was the greatest of the Florentine school. He was
the father of painting, as Boccaccio was the father of liter¬
ature. He was sought for at Ravenna, and at all the great
towns of Italy, and was patronised by all the first families.
He was an object of study and admiration, until the time
of Raffaelle, and that of the Caracci, and is so even at the
present time. There are in Giotto instances of pathos and
expression, which would do honour to any period. Thus
the greater part of the merit belongs to the Florentines, but
not the whole. Giotto died in 1336, when painters had in¬
creased immensely. In 1290, the first society of artists in
Venice was established, under the protection of St. Luke.
They were not academies, but associations of artists, com¬
posed of engravers, painters, sculptors, and orefici. Their
object was to advance design in all arts ; and had they
always continued to act on this honest and simple princip e,
we should not now have had to lament in Europe a race
who are synonymous with every thing weak, mannered, and
absurd in art. „ . ... ,
The next distinguished artist was Buffalmaco. Although
totally independent of Giotto, he was also intima-te v it i
Boccaccio. He was very capricious, and worked only when
he liked, yet he was inferior to no one. He painted the
Crucifixion, Resurrection, Ascension, and Creation of the
World in the Campo Santo ; in fact, the Campo Santo seems
to have been a receptacle for all the distinguished geniuses
as they appeared in that age. In it there are things as fine
in conception as were ever imagined ; and the foundation of
some of Raffaelle’s best compositions in the Vatican may be
there found. Vasari’s life of Buffalmaco is exceedingly en¬
tertaining, as indeed all his lives are.
The Or- The two Orcagnas, Andrea and Bernardo, were the next
cagnas. artists of this early school. Andrea painted the Judgment
and the Inferno, in the Campo Santo. He was full of in¬
vention, but not equal to the Giotto school, though he first
gave evidence of perspective. Lanzi thinks that the art did
not advance so quickly after Giotto’s death as it ought to
have done. Taddeo Gaddi, his best pupil, was to him
what Julio Romano was to Raffaelle. Vasari, who saw his
pictures in good condition, says, that he excelled his master
in fleshiness and colour. Agnolo Gaddi the son of 1 addeo,
was a humble imitator of Giotto and his father, and had as
his pupil Cennino Cennini, whose treatise on the mechanical
preparations of the art is very valuable. Fortunate would
it have been had the treatises of Apelles and Euphranor
also reached \is*
Florentine Pisa now began to decline, and the Florentines took pos-
school. session of that city in 1406. Hated and detested by their
conquerors, the spirit of the citizens sunk into the greatest
depression ; the artists left the city, and the school entirely
decayed. The Florentines now rose in the ascendant.
The Medici began to appear. Cosmo, the father of his
country and the protector of genius, gave fresh energy to
art, science, and public affairs. Lorenzo followed, and their
house became the refuge and resort of all who were cele¬
brated in painting, poetry, sculpture, architecture, and
philosophy. Massaccio, the two Piselh, the two Lippi,
Binozzo, Sandro, and Ghirlandaio, received from the Me¬
dici protection and employment. The pictures 0 t e ime
have perpetual portraits of the Medici. The citizens e
came animated with the same spirit; frescoes covere t e
churches, and smaller works filled the houses. Up sprung,
too, that host of painters, marble-cutters, bronze-casters,
and chasers, by which the principles of design passed from
Pisa to Florence ; and out blazed before the world Dona¬
tello, Brunelleschi, Ghiberti. The most exquisite produc¬
tions of sculpture, marble, and bronze followed. The youth
became inoculated; sound design became the first necessity
of manufacture; and though the finest works of Italy at this
or any period cannot be compared to the finest works of Parting.
Greece, yet a good style of design was established, but un- ’
equal to those refined forms of beauty, so palpable in the merest
fragments of the works of the school of Phidias, which have
all the look of life without any of its vulgarities, all the es¬
sential details, without a single superfluous one. This can¬
not be said of the naked figures of the period in question, or
of any period of Italian art, not even of the art of Michel
Angelo and Raffaelle. There was a want which Greek forms
only supplied ; there was an absence of refinement and a
want of something which the Greeks possessed. Michel An¬
gelo and Raffaelle were educated without system, there
was no school in Italy like the schools of Sicyon and Rhodes,
Athens, and Corinth, where all the hidden secrets of perfect
form were taught, that is, the secret of beauty. Michel An¬
gelo and Raffaelle owed their greatness to their own genius ;
and their art died with them. There has been nothing in
the world like the art of Phidias, except the poetry of Shakes¬
peare. The intellectual powers and perceptive senses of
the Greeks must have been several degrees more refined
than those of all preceding or subsequent nations.
The followers of Giotto had advanced the art from infancy Massaccio.
in colour, composition, and expression ; but in perspective,
and light and shadow, they left it as they found it. Uccello
had given symptoms of perspective, and Massohno da Pam-
cale of light and shadow, until the appearance of Masso di
S. Giovanni, a youth so immersed in study, so utterly ab¬
sorbed in his divine art, that he neglected dress, health, food,
sleep, and seemed only to be conscious of life when he touch¬
ed a pencil. For this entire neglect of the humanities and
comforts of life, the Italians, whose satirical turn is ever ap¬
parent, added accio to Masso {accio affixed to any word ex¬
citing associations of dirt or ugliness), so that Massamo
meant a dirty and neglectful man. Neglectful as he was,
however, he was the immediate precursor of Raffaelle ; ami
all the great subsequent painters studied him. Raffaelle bor¬
rowed from him Paul in Elymas, the Adam and the Eve in
the Loggia, and other entire figures. Like Apollodorus, he
opened the doors; and Raffaelle having passed through,
never forgot his obligations. Ghiberti and Donatello form¬
ed his style ; from Brunaleschi he learnt proportion ; and
though the finest antiques were not known in his time, he
improved himself by study ing suchas were in existence. Ihe
airs of his heads are Raffaellesque, says Mengs ; yet, would
it not be more just to say, that Raffaelle’s heads are iuas-
saciesque ? Raffaelle died the favourite of a court, loved,
lamented, and in competence. Massaccio so excited the
envy of his inferiors, that it is suspected he was poisoned
at the age of twenty-eight, before he had fairly taken his
ground. Surely, then, when Massaccio is praised for what
must have been his own, it is not quite fair to teim his ex¬
cellence, that of a man who came after him, and perhaps
owed it to him. His works are at S. Ambrogio and del
Carmine in Florence, and St. Catherine in Rome. His heads
are full of character, his drapery is beautifully composed, and
his composition is unaffected, but his knowledge of the naked
form is feeble and vulgar. Some of the heads of del Car¬
mine are full of character like Holbein, with the same look
of rigidity in expression ; but he was a true genius, bene-
fitino- by his predecessors, going beyond them, and enabling
those who studied him to carry the art to the highest point
it ever reached in Italy. Pietro Perrugino, Leonardo, Raf¬
faelle, and Michel Angelo, all studied and all were benefit¬
ed by him. In the Palazzo Pitti there is a portrait of a
young man who looks alive. _ , •
After several names of great merit, we reach one who ad-Ghirlandaio
vanced towards the great era ; we mean Domenicho Ghir¬
landaio, the master of Michel Angelo, a circumstance which
alone is a passport to immortality. Fuseli says, that he was
the first Florentine who added truth to composition by truth
of perspective. The abolition of gold fringes in drapery may
PAINTING.
63
Painting, be dated from him; though his historical figures are little
more than portraits well selected. The last important name
of the first epoch of Italian art was that of Luca Signorelli,
who had glimpses of real grandeur. His dome at Orvieto,
where he painted the Last Judgment, has bold fore-shorten¬
ing, with absurdities of an earlier date mixed up in it;
hut Michel Angelo adopted many of his ideas, as well as
Dante’s; and certainly the absurd assertion that he “disdain¬
ed to look abroad for foreign help,”1 is successfully refuted
by this fact.
One can see how gradually art sunk after its decay into
Gothicism ; how gradually it advanced again to nature and
common sense, and from common sense to elevation. Dur¬
ing this first period the approaches to ideal beauty, imperfect
as it was in Italian art, were gradual, and would have been
longer in coming had not the discovery of the Apollo, and
other ancient works, opened the eyes of all the great men
living, and a spring taken place from Perrugino, Ghirlandaio,
and the Bellini, which was soon visible in the works of Itaf-
faelle and Michel Angelo. Leonardo seems not to have been
smitten by the ancients to the same degree as the other two
were. There is less obligation to any nation in him;
and unquestionably few as are left of the effusions of his
genius, they are more original than the Vatican or Sistine
Chapel. What was there in the world to put us in mind of
the Standard struggle or Last Supper of Da Vinci ?
Oil paint- But before proceeding, it may be as well to allude to the
ir'g- question of oil painting. It was long a supposition that Van
Eyk discovered it, and that it was not known before ; where¬
as, it was used in England in 1230, long before the time of
Van Eyk. Cennino Cennini wrote a treatise on the techni¬
cal practice of the Italian painters ; he was a pupil of Ag¬
nolo Gaddi, who was a pupil of Taddeo Gaddi, who was a
pupil of Giotto, who was a pupil of Cimabue, who was a pupil
of the Greeks. There can be no question that from the
mixture of oil with punic wax2 as a varnish, the use of oil
was known to the ancient Greeks, and that it was carried
on to the tenth century, when the monk Theophilus3 wrote
his treatise. He positively describes how to mix the colour
with oil instead of water, and how to boil the oil; and then
we can prove its existence by actual documents in the rolls
of the Exchequer in England (1239), and by the 23d of
Henry III., wherein the king issues an order to “ our trea¬
surer Odo the goldsmith and his son, to be paid 117 shill¬
ings for oil, varnish, and colors bought, and for pictures
made in the chamber of our Queen at Westminster,”4 nearly
two hundred years before Van Eyk. There can be no
doubt that oil painting has never been unknown, even to
the Egyptians; it has been forgotten and revived, but none
of the periods of revivals are entitled to the honour of dis¬
covery. “ Cbaque nation a ses avantages, et ses desavan-
tages, said a Frenchman to us, whilst shrugging his shoul¬
ders as a spout of water from a roof drenched him to the
skin in Paris ; and “ Ogni nazione ha le sue virtu, ha i suoi
vizi,” says Lanzi. Every nation which confesses its vices,
is sure to have justice done to its virtues. There is no Ital¬
ian school, however good, which has not its errors, and none
which has not its excellencies as well as its mistakes.
Florence was distinguished for fresco more than for oil
painting. The Florentine style of design, in its best days,
was always peculiar; the figures were long in proportion,
their feet were small, and so were their knees ; there was
always a look, in Florentine design, as if the muscles of the
body were suffering from a temporary knotted cramp ; they
were, in design, too circular, too elliptical, or too angular,
and never seemed to have hit the exact medium between Painting,
all three, like Phidias. Their colour was not rich, like the
Venetians; their draperies clung too closely to the limb as
if they were wet; they made an ostentatious display of the
limb underneath; in fact their system degenerated into
manner, and beauty seems not to have been a primary ob¬
ject in the Florentine school, any more than in that of their
ancestors the Etruscans. At Fontainebleau, though the
designs of Primaticcio were full of talent, yet they gave a
very good idea of the excess of the Florentine manner.5
The two great luminaries of Florence were Da Vinci and
Michel Angelo. Da Vinci was less of a mannerist than the
other great man. He was, in fact, the link between the
meagreness of the first period of design, and the vulgar
swing of the second.
Leonardo was born in 1452. He was a natural son, and Leonardo
had all the eccentricity, sloth and fire, weakness and energy, da Vinci,
idleness and diligence of that class. A poet, a musician, a
mathematician, an hydraulist, a mechanic, a modeller, and
a painter; he excelled in all. Keen, eager, minute, search¬
ing and indefatigable, handsome in face, beautiful in per¬
son, tall in figure, athletic and skilled in manly exercises, a
graceful dancer, a splendid horseman, and an harmonious
singer; he equally delighted the people, infatuated the
women, and bewitched the sovereign. And yet with all
this vast power, the gift of his Creator, he was so deficient
in concentration of mind, that he seemed to have no power
of collecting its rays sufficiently long to make discoveries
in any thing. He was the scholar of Verocchio, by whom
he wras infected with a lazy love of design in preference to
the vigorous energy of using the brush. He passionately
loved geometry, horses, and soldiers ; and in his horses he
never left nature like Raffaelle, Julio Romano, or Michel
Angelo, but gave them their natural characteristics of fleshy
nostrils and projecting eyes.
His two greatest works are his Last Supper, and his Bat¬
tle of the Standard. The beautiful humility of Christ, the
tender amiability of St. John, the powerful expressions of all
the apostles waving to and fro in their attitudes, as if disturb¬
ed in their feelings, by the remark of Christ, that “ one of
them should betray him,” prove the extent of his genius, and
the depth of his perceptions. But even here, the bane of
his existence, that disposition to experiment, has ruined the
work, more from the consequences of his own preparations,
than either time or damp. Such men are never regarded
as steady lights by posterity; painting was only a portion
of his occupations, and not the end of his life. One quarter
of the lives of such men is spent in experiments ; another
quarter in putting them in practice ; a third in lamenting
their failure ; and the last amidst the bitterest remorse, de¬
voting themselves to their real pursuit, to satisfy the crav¬
ings of conscience and the reproach of the world. What has
Leonardo left us in all his various pursuits to compensate us
for the loss which accrued to painting ? Geometry was as
much a caprice of his extraordinary mind, as any other
science. What has he left us in poetry, which poets could
look up to ? What in mechanics, that Watt could have
founded on ? What in music, that would have benefited
Mozart ? What in hydraulics, that would improve our
shares in canals ? The genius that composed such works
as the Standard and Last Supper, need not to have shrunk
from competition with Michel Angelo, young as he was.
There is no doubt the world is always delighted to pull
down an established artist by pushing up a younger rival
in his face; but if you become irritable, and desert your
’ Reynolds’ note. 2 piiny, Jib. xxxv. Cera punica cum oleo liquefacta.
la 'd .m" C’j 8‘ A'c'Pe .semen lini et exsicca illud in sartagine super ignem sine aqua, &c. Again, “cum hoc oleo tere minium, super
^4 o, a£a'n’ “ iiccipe colores quos impone volvens, texens eos diligenter cum oleo lini.” (De omni Scientia Artis Pinqendi.)
5 R°;- Claus- 23d Henry III. Walpole’s Works, vol. iii. p. 16.
11 81'•ne writer saw the remains. There was a naked youth over one of the gateways, which had all the peculiarities of this schooi.
64
PAINTING.
Painting, country from disgust, men only laugh ; whereas the soun
principle is, Laugh at the world, stay in your country, and
work harder than ever.
The fact is, that such men as Leonardo are great geniuses,
but not the greatest. The evidence of superior genius is
the power of intellectual concentration. Such powers had
Newton, Milton, Bacon, Locke, Watt, Michel Angelo, Na¬
poleon, Raffaelle, Titian, Rubens, Vandyke, and our own
Reynolds. Such men only are examples, and not beacons ,
such men only are blessings to their species. As a speci¬
men of his extraordinary caprice of character, his want ot
perseverance and his notions of the most elaborate mush
were at least equal; he took four years in painting one face,
and then said it was not done. His children are exquisite;
but his women have an air of modesty to conceal meritrici-
ousness, and his oil-works are far from models of excell¬
ence, the over-wrought finish being hard. There is always
in his expressions an air as if they were set in enamel, and
could not relax. The picture, in our national gallery, ot
Christ and the Doctors, is a celebrated work; but why
should Christ, who disputed with the doctors at twelve years
of age, be larger in person and head than the doctors who
are sixty? And why should Christ be like a woman m
men’s clothes, and look out of the picture, and talk with his
fingers to the spectators, instead of being, as he was, a fine
boy of twelve years old, handsome, intellectual and angelic •
We should like to have heard Leonardo’s reasons, if he had
any, for such an apparent absurdity.
In design, and tempera or fresco-painting, Da Vinci was
great; but in oil pictures he is false in taste, petty in exe¬
cution, and unskilful in backgrounds. By his depth ot
light and shade, and also of colour, which gave an impulse
to all Italian art, he had a sense of beauty which greater
steadiness might have brought out to perfection. Butwhen
a man flies off from painting to make a lion, which will walk
by machinery, to meet the king of France who approached
Milan, to stand upon his hind legs without human help, to
* . in _ a  Inc nrms inside
of the day, Michel Angelo had every advantage in early edu-
cation. He came, too, when he was wanted; when ancient
literature and ancient art were breaking through the obscu¬
rity which had overwhelmed them, and the discovery ot
printing was scattering their beauties throughout Europe.
Men’s minds were roused up with wonder and delight at
every fresh discovery. Painting, architecture, poetry, and
science were hailed with a gusto which nothing can account
for but the misery of the ages that had passed.
Michel Angelo, after his day’s study in the gardens which
Lorenzo had opened for the youth of Florence, retired to
the coins, cameos, and fragments of the palace. v\ ith his
acuteness, energy, and perception, it is not wonderful that
he soon perceived the inferiority of the forms of his master,
in comparison with the full beauty of the form, the result
of perfect construction in the antique. He corrected with
his boyish hand the narrow meagreness of Ghirlandaio ; and
announced, thus early, that self-will and vigorous decision,
which enabled him subsequently to accomplish whatever
he undertook. Here was the germ of that mighty power
which placed the Pantheon in the air, as he predicted and
realized in the dome of St. Peter’s. Here was the embryo
fearlessness, that brought him through the vast ceiling ot
the Sistine Chapel in fresco, though when he began it, he
had never painted in fresco before. Michel Angelo was
one of those rare beings who are wanted when they come,
and have opportunities put in their way adequate to deve-
lope the powers with which they are gifted. Julius II. was
as wonderful a man as Michel Angelo ; and they mutual y
inspired each other. What Julius willed, Michel Angelo
was as ready to perform; and what the inspirations ot
Michel Angelo’s genius suggested, the vigorous pope, whose
fine old venerable head a helmet would have suited better
than a tiara, had comprehension to value. They were both
fierce, both self-willed, both proud and haughty, both inde¬
pendent and ungovernable. If Julius wished what Miche
Angelo was in no humour to do, he would not do it; and
® . -i .14   A. ^ in 11'lPS Ol
Painting.
Milan, to stand upon his hind legs without human help, to angeio was^ ^ execute, on sound principles of
open his own belly, and showthe king of France his arm ” ar^what the Iged pontiff did not comprehend, he would do
Michel
Angelo.
it, whatcouldbe expected from his talents, great as they were
Nowhere does his character show itself more conspicuously
than in his treatise on painting ; in fact it is not a treatise,
but a collection of separate disjointed thoughts, like the re¬
cipes of a cookery book. It is very easy to put down your
thoughts as they occur without arrangement; but the dif¬
ficulty is, to collect them for the illustration of a principle
like Fuseli or Reynolds. Every man can put down sepa¬
rate thoughts, but every man has not the power so to ar¬
range them as to throw light upon an art. Leonardo dis¬
sected and drew finely; but there was a meagre common-
model style in his figures, a want of perfect construction, as
if men had never worn clothes. On the whole, this illus¬
trious man cannot be referred to as the head an eP0C^
He was a component part of it, but not like Michel An
gelo or Raffaelle the great engineer. What he did in paint¬
ing made one lament that he had not done more. An ar¬
tist,” says Reynolds in his letter to Barry, “ should bring his
mind to bear on painting, from the moment he rises till e
goes to bed ; and if his mind be calm and undisturbed by
other objects, he will find it quite enough to fill up life, it
it was longer than it is.” , .
No man could be more opposite to Leonar o ian
great successor Michel Angelo, patient, laborious, ^ir u®us
and indefatigable, painter, architect and sculptor , e e a
work in each art that advanced the rankof his country. o
turn to such a character, is a relief and a blessing. In him
the aspiring youth contemplates the result of conduct totally
the reverse of that we have been considering. Solitary,
and highly gifted, despising the subterfuges of society, he
lived alone ; and in addition to his genius he was a great
moral being. Brought up by the liberality of Lorenzo de
Medici, admitted freely to his table with the illustrious men
II iVllCOCl Allgciu w      * 1J
art, what the aged pontiff did not comprehend, he would do
it, in spite of denunciations of banishment, or threats ol
displeasure. They were made for each other, they under¬
stood each other, and they were attached to each other; they
quarrelled, became friends, and quarrelled again. When
will the ceiling be finished?” said Julius, as he trod on the
scaffolding with a stamp that made the boards tremble, al¬
ter climbing to the top, where the great artist lay on his
back on a mattress, hard at work, painting with vigour,
a When I can,” said Michel Angelo, irritated at the inter¬
ruption. “ When thou canst,” thundered out the pope ;
“ Art thou minded to be hanged ?” _
This was the man for Michel Angelo. Conscious of his
acre, conscious that death followed him wherever he went,
he began, proceeded with, and finished all he undertook, as
if he had not an hour to live. By his perpetual watching, he
hurried Michel Angelo through the ceiling of the chapel in
twenty months, a time by no means equal to that which ought
to have been devoted to it. The hurry is visible in the fierce,
rapid execution ; and that which was entirely owing to the
impetuosity of his old patron, has been attributed as a merit
and a principle to the great painter. Such is the infatua¬
tion of praise when a man is really great. Of this astonish¬
ing work, it seems that enough can never be said ; though
language has been exhausted to do it justice. Fuseli was
the first who cleared up the mystery of the composition,
in a style that places the commentator on a level with the
inventor. “ It exhibits,” he says, “ the origin, the progress,
and the final dispensation of theocracy.” But Fuseli’s cha¬
racter of Michel Angelo is overdone. It is an effort to ex¬
press the deepest feelings in the strongest language ; and
in all such efforts the language invariably becomes inflated
and turgid.
PAINTING.
Painting. In comparing this illustrious sovereign of modern de-
^’V'^^sign with Phidias, or the Greeks generally in the naked
figure, he must unquestionably yield to them the palm. Mi¬
chel Angelo often perplexed his limbs with useless anatomy;
it must not be denied, and cannot be refuted, that he did
not always clear the accidental from the superfluous. If
the principle be a sound one, namely, “ that any two parts
of a body bearing comparison must keep a consistency
throughout, similar in essence and similar in development,”
then is Michel Angelo grossly inconsistent; because il the
spine of the ilium in front be covered fully by the muscles
around it, so ought the spine of the scapula behind to be
equally covered. If the former be, and the latter be not,
then the figure is inharmonious and inconsistent, and what
Phidias would never have tolerated. Now the figure of
Michel Angelo’s Christ standing with a cross, has the spine
of the scapula prominent and bony, and all the muscles
shrinking from it, the characteristics of a thin man ; whilst
the spine of the ilium of the same figure in front, is entirely
covered by the muscles around it, the marks of a muscular
and fleshy man. What authority had Michel Angelo in
nature or antiquity for such inconsistency ? These are the
excesses which bring dissection into contempt, and which
induce anatomists to doubt whether the Greeks dissected
or not, because they were never guilty of such absurdities,
and because they had too much self-control to make that
an end of art which was but a means of the perfection of
art. And yet Vasari calls it “ mirabilissima.” This figure
and the Lazarus in Piombo’s, as well as several figures in the
Last Judgment, are justifiable grounds for asserting he was
not equal to the Greeks in the naked figure ; though in the
conception and arrangement of a vast whole to illustrate a
grand principle, he approaches but does not surpass the Par¬
thenon in its glories. In the form he must,not be compared
to the Greeks; gigantic as he is, he was decidedly inferior.
Michel Angelo’slineisbynomeans “uniformlygrandand
his women maybe “ moulds of generation,” but certainly not
of love. His infants may “ teem with the man,” but they
have nothing of the infant. His men may be a “ race of
giants,” but they are brutal in expression, fierce in action,
and distorted in position. It is useless in a rapid and ge¬
neral view of art to go over ground which has been so of¬
ten gone over before; to talk about the prophets and si¬
byls, after three hundred years’ enthusiasm, is worse than
useless. Europe knows the awful grandeur of one or two
of them, looking like beings to whom God has spoken, and
who have never since ceased meditating on the awful voice.
The style of Michel Angelo has been called the style of
the gods; but if majesty without pretension, humility with¬
out feebleness, power without exertion, and an awful pre¬
sence without vulgar assumption, be the characteristics of
a god, what figure of Michel Angelo’s deserves that appel¬
lation ? Is it in the bullying defiance of Moses ? the twist¬
ed tortures of Jonah ? the cramped agonies of the sleep¬
ing Adam ? or the galvanized violence of the ornamental
figures at the tombs ? It must be admitted, that the Pen-
soso-Duca is majestic and silent; but this is an exception,
not an habitual characteristic. “ Michel Angelo’s mind,”
says lleynolds, “ was so original that he disdained to look
abroad for foreign help.” Disdained! Why there is not a
prophet, a sibyl, or a naked figure in the whole chapel
where the torso cannot be traced. And what are the works
of both Michel Angelo and Raffaelle, but improved comple¬
tions of all that their predecessors had done for a thousand
years in barbarism and obscurity ? Shakespeare’s plots are
all borrowed ; Lady Macbeth is not his own ; that hideous
expression “ know Macduff’was from his mother’s womb un¬
timely ripped,” is Hollingshed’s. But what of that ? It is
t le new thoughts he puts into them, which give him claim
to the sympathy of the world. Phidias and Raffaelle have
one great and decided beauty in their works ; their figures,
vol. xvn.
65
whether in action or expression, always look as the uncon- Painting,
scious agents of an impulsion they cannot help. You are
never drawn aside from what they are doing by any ap¬
pearance in them, as if they wished to make you consider
how very grand they were, or how very gracefully they
were moving. They seem impelled by something they can¬
not control; their heads, hands, feet, and bodies imme¬
diately put themselves into positions the best adapted to
execute the intentions wanted; whereas often in Michel
Angelo, and always in his imitators, there is a conscious¬
ness as it were in his arms and limbs, which destroys all
idea, as if his figures were the unconscious agents of an
impulsion they could not help, and which acted by means
of the will on the muscular system.
It is an inherent principle of life never to disturb itself
for grace, or for any other object either in action or repose,
not immediately the natural consequence of the impulsion
which moved the body. Style in design is a result and
not a cause. Whatever object is represented in painting
or sculpture, the intentions of God in its bodily formation
should be ascertained ; the means which God has bestow¬
ed on it to enable it to execute its only will or gratify its
own instincts, should be investigated ; and then the aberra¬
tions produced by time, accident or disease, or other causes,
will be clearly known, so that he who takes upon himself
to represent any object in painting, will be able to distin¬
guish accident from essence, and shew the object in its es¬
sential properties of body as God first created it. The ex¬
ternal form in that body will then be essential, and the re¬
sult of its completion in art will be style in design. There
are certain inherent principles of our common nature to
which all bodies must yield, viz. that compression and ex¬
tension must have different effects, and so must repose and
action. If a great artist represents a figure and makes its
parts the same in either case, he must be ignorant of nature
or above its simplicity. No doubt, the conception of an
idea may be so grand, the beauty of a character may be
so angelic, the pathos of an expression may be so deep,
that errors or inadequacy in the mode of representation
may be overlooked or forgiven ; but in order to bring the
art to the perfection to which the Greeks brought it,
there must be nothing to forgive or to overlook. An idea or
conception being the nobler part of the art, we may, in our
common conviction of human frailty, overlook any inade¬
quacy in the means of imitation ; but the very admission
proves there must be something to be overlooked and some¬
thing which, we have a notion, has not been adequately re¬
presented.
An art the modes of which to convey thoughts, being the
imitation essentially of natural objects, ought surely to have
the imitation perfect, because the imperfection of the means
has always detracted from the impressions of the thought.
Poets are not endured if their grammar is bad, or their lan¬
guage defective ; and why should drawing, form, colour, or
light, shadow, and surface, the grammar of art, be excused
more than the poets’ ?. Because the simplest imitation is at
once recognised as the imitation of the prototype, why
should facility of imitation be any excuse for defect ? Ah,
but it’s the style. Yes, the grand style of Europe
for the last three hundred years ; but was it the grand style
of the Greeks ? Certainly not; their grand style was nature
elevated not violated, with none of her inherent bases of
life altered a hair’s point, none of her essential details
omitted, and none of her essential principles overwhelmed
by useless detail.
When you see an outline like iron, that is the grand style*
When hands were twisted, heads distorted, one leg up, and
the other so far removed from the body, that you may ques¬
tion if it will return, that is the grand style. All this absur¬
dity originated with Michel Angelo ; and though he is not
answerable for the excesses of his admirers, there must be
i
painting.
66
Painting, something erroneous if every imitator has led to such ex
' travagance from Goltzius downwards. Michel Angelo was
a tremendous genius, and his effect on the art was vital; but
he did not like the Greeks suffer the unalterable principles of
life to keep in check his anatomical knowledge. Ibis was
an error, because we can imagine no beings, and no wor t
where malleable matter is not influenced by the common
principles of the solar system, or where any creatures com¬
posed of bones, muscles, tendons, and skin, must not yield
to the laws which God instituted for their government when
he created them.
Thus Michel Angelo often overstepped the modesty ol
truth, and gave a swaggering air to his figures. .Every _
o-ure of his looks as if he was insulted and preparing to re¬
turn a blow. If they sleep they seem as if they would
kick • if they move when they are awake, they seem as it
all their mulcles were cracking. We allude particularly
to the naked figures; Jeremiah and the Duke are exceP“^ ’
but they are only exceptions. Fuseli observed that Mic
Angelovas the salt of art; but it would have been more just
to have-called him the pepper, because very little indeed
will do for a seasoning. In poetry of sentiment the Me -
dici tombs would perhaps have competed wdh PMias
for Michel Angelo being a painter »s well as Phidms, he
combined in his sculpture a knowledge of effect. In selec¬
tion of subject and daring execution of hand, perhaps the
Sistine Chapel might equal the great works ox painting
amongst theancients; but in naked representations * cannot
be compared to it. The Elgin marbles had not ^en enhght-
ened the world. The due subordination of all science to
ture had not then been so exquisitely seen ; the due combi¬
nation of life without meanness, and of abstraction without
losing sight of life, were not so apparent m the great works of
anciaxt art which were found before this period. Had Michel
Angelo seen the Theseus and Ilyssus, Jupiter’s breast and
horse’s head, he would have felt the difference between the
muscular swing of a blacksmith, and a hero naturally born
powerful, without his muscles being distorted by manual
labour ; and that a hero might be elevated and yet simple,
fleshy without fatness, and muscular without being skin¬
ny. Vichel Angelo has been called the Deity of design ,
but he was rather the Devil. One can imagine the con¬
sternation of Phidias and his pupils, if suddenly at Olym¬
pia the galvanized figures of the tombs had bf611 let down
througlAhe roof, whilst they were preparing the Olympian
Jupiter, with his quiet, solemn, steady, thinking, peaceful,
“"Reynolds says he prepared the way for the sweeping out-
r nf TCuhpns • but how many tnousands has he ruinocl.
WluttXsthe excellence of the dist Judgment ? Is
evidence of power in arranging a whole, like Rubens, T
tian, or Tintoretto ? Is there any application of any prin¬
ciple of our nature by the due combination of variety and
repose ? Is it not a mass of separate groups, vulgar in de-
S?n academic in action, and demoniac in expression ? Is
h8e Christ worth, of GoWns ? Surely tt would have d.s-
orared him;ami then what devils! Are l cse.thC
Ss of heaven? they are the legitimate olfsprmg of hell.
“aTILI thTbeings whose glory was obscured n„ e
guished? whose majestic forms f isted\ ^ 'Ltrov-
whose beauty was only disturbed by PaSs1’ , •
ed? who were the same Srand\hero!ClteI ^ ^Zv'from
ever, but scathed by lightning, singed by fire, digy
darkness, lacerated by thunder, their splendour sparkhng
through the horrid obscurity, in which they meditated
venge ? To give them mouths like wolves, ears like asses,
noses like pug-dogs, and tails like monkeys, with ee c li¬
ven and misshapen, was not to represent a fallen ange ,
a deformed monster. Though evil, they were beautiful.
“ Their forms had not yet lost
41/ their original brightness.”
“What matter where, if still I be the same, says Sat,
Could such a sentiment have ever been uttered by the wretch
who is dragging a figure down to the bottomless pit, m a
way delicacy forbids one even to think of, much more to
write or to paint ? Michel Angelo’s demons would not only
torture the damned, but feed upon their bodies.
It is clear, however, that there mas a time when he was
not so exaggerated. The holy Family, in sculpture, brought
by Sir George Beaumont from Italy, is playful, natural, sim-
pfe, and beautiful; it is in fact a divine work. Perhaps the
violence of Julius in hurrying him through the Sistme Cha¬
pel, and the necessity of painting with tremendous exagge¬
ration, on so large a space, got his hand into a fierce power
that it never lost. Painting on grand ceilings « hke talk
ing in large theatres. He never entirely finished any thing ,
he left no grand pupils, like Raffaelle ; he assisted the hu
ble, but never instructed the gifted. The figure of Laza¬
rus in our national picture, especially the hand and thumb
that press the shoulder of the attendant on the left >
certainly by him ; and if it be compared to the timid paint¬
ing of the Christ, the spectator will be convinced of it. in
fine, Michel Angelo was a great genius; but let the students
of Europe be assured that his style has been grossly ovei-
rated; let them banish his works from their eyes, and sub¬
stitute the Theseus and Ilyssus, and the real grand natmal
style of Phidias will soon exclude the satamc Etruscan, and
violent anatomical distortions of Michel Ange o. e may
be and was a giant in art; but Raffaelle was an angel, and
^T^neft Florentine of power was the monk Bartolomeo. 1tetol»»
He studied under Rosselli, and Leonardo aroused and ex¬
cited him ; he was grand in colour, light and shadow, and
execution, surface, and character. In the Louvre there were
works worthy of any hand, any competitor, or any genius. He
had the honour of advancing Raffaelle; he invented the ay
figure, and made the proper use of it; he never put drapery
on it till he had drawn the naked figure first, so that the
naked parts affected the forms of his folds ; he had grea
depth, grandeur, and a certain wildness of air, hed e
finely, and his tones were solemn and elevated. Wilkie
speaks with the highest enthusiasm of his Assumption of the
Virgin. It is impossible not to feel the deepest interest in
Bartolomeo, and not to be astonished that he did not found
a school, and head an epoch. Such things, however, are
never done by the mere influence of talent; the character
of the man is principally though not wholly the cause. He
painted a S. Sebastiano, which was so beautiful, that it be¬
came a favourite of Italian ladies. He was ordered to adorn
the great hall of council at Florence, as Da Vinci and Mi¬
chelangelo had done before ; but as if a fatality attended
that hall, he died without going further than the designs.
This is curious. Da Vinci designed the Standard struggle ;
Michel Angelo the group of soldiers alarmed by the trum¬
pet, and dressing themselves; and now Bartolomeo began
his designs, and died in 1517, without completing them.
Bartolomeo was a great artist. His method was fn st to draw
the naked figure, then clothe it, then paint the whole pic¬
ture in light and shade in oil, and then tone and colour,
guided by the tremendous depth of his first impasto painting.
S Andrea del Sarto is another name enthusiastically over-Andrea del
rated by Vasari. He might be called Andrea senza erron ; Sarto,
but what genius “ senza errori,” ever enchanted the world .
Give us the vigour of Michel Angelo, with all his violence,
the dash of Tintoretto with all his caprice, the colour of
Titian with his want of drawing at first, the sweetness of
Corregio with his namby-pamby men, the composition of
Rubens with his flabby women, the expression ol Raffaelle
with his hardness of effect; but spare us from that poet,
painter, musician, or moral character, who is so perfect that
he must be admired without the gusto of finding fault,
above all, spai e us from the Grandisons of art. Andrea was
PAIN
Painting, one of those to whom talent is more applicable than genius ;
whatever excellence he attained, he would have never at¬
tained to that degree, but for the existence of his superiors.
The greater part of the works attributed to him in England,
are copies by his pupils which he retouched.
Decline of After these great men, it would be useless to detail the
the Floren-decay of the Florentine school; it yielded to the circumstan-
tine school, ces of the time, and the misfortunes of the Medici. The
continual political squabbles turned men’s minds from art as
in ancient Greece ; but the great want of course wras the
want of genius, which no efforts have since been able to
rear. Though the style of the Florentine school was not so
pure as that of the Roman, it led the way in a noble manner,
and kept side by side with it; they benefited each other.
Leonardo gave an impulse to art; and though from the cap¬
rice of his character, he did not complete the impulse he had
given, and was more the cause of greatness in others, than the
man who established his own, yet the art is indebted to this
highly-gifted man, who had an effect on Georgione, Barto¬
lomeo, Raffaelle, and Michel Angelo himself; and gratitude is
due to his genius. This great school was brought to utter
ruin by what Lanzi calls the Cortoneschi, or pupils of Cor¬
tona, where art had degenerated into mechanism, and thought¬
less, endless, and sprawling groups. The descendants of the
Medici breed had more disposition than power to patronise,
till Leopold reigned in 1765. The academy was renovated
in 1785, and once more in 1804 ; but these renovations end
in nothing. The great men were passed without these con¬
ventional distinctions ; the little ones who came after, live
only by their embellishment. Boys are educated to draw
tolerably well, to colour with tolerable harmony, to invent
tolerably insipidly, to become intolerable painters, accom¬
plished academicians, to die, be buried, and decay; and
thus leave room for another race as intolerably imbecile in
art, as their illustrious performers before them. It is quite
absurd to read in Lanzi, always at the end of the epochs of
a school, “ Decadenza dell’ arte, e fondazione deW academia
per avivvarla“ decay of art, and foundation of an academy,
to give it life.” But after a few galvanic twitches it stretches
out its feeble legs, gasps with an expiring quickness, gives
a trembling of its eyelids, which it opens once more, stares
with a fixed look, sighs deeply, and drops its jaw for ever.
Then come the vain efforts to restore circulation, then the de¬
lusive assurances that it is still living; then doctors and
nurses dress up its helpless head with laurel, and put some
abracadabra on its cold breast; but all won’t do for it’s gone
and there is no hope. Such have been the results of the
academies. Genius fled at their foundation, and left them
useless bodies without soul, life, or circulation. The sove¬
reigns of Europe will at last find out that no academies
should go further than schools; and till they do, the end of
art will be forgotten, in a vain contemptible struggle for its
conventional distinctions.
Roman The three leading lights of art as schools, are the Floren-
School. tine, the Roman, and the Venetian. The Par man must in
spite of all the beauty of Corregio, be considered as the be¬
ginning of corruption. The other schools, the Modenese,
the Cremonese, the Ferarrese, Genoese, and the Piedmon¬
tese, are but different branches.
Raffaelle. The glory of Italian art is Raffaelle. Had he been born
in Greece, and qualified by a Greek education, he would have
been as great in painting as Phidias was in sculpture; but
the education of all the Italian artists was imperfect, and
they seemed to be grounding themselves, (even Raffaelle
himself,) on the meagre style of the early painters. The dis¬
covery of ancient statues in some degree opened their eyes,
but they wTere not, like the ancients, gradually prepared for
such perfection, nor was Raffaelle himself ever skilled in
those perfect principles of beauty, as applied to the naked
figure, which distinguished the Greeks. Wonderful, ami¬
able, and gentle creature as he was, the reverse of Michel
TING. 67
Angelo in every way, who proved himself decidedly the in- Painting,
ferior man. In all his endless inventions, a single repetition
of himself, even in the folds of a drapery, is not to be found ;
he was not like Titian, an exquisite colourist, but his colour
is always agreeable, though not distinguished for light and
shade ; and his groups are never obtrusive, though not re¬
markable for aerial perspective. Every object keeps its place;
though no face of his can compete with the beauty of the an¬
cients, his women always enchant; his great power was cha¬
racter and expression, and telling a story by human passions
and actions; in these he was unrivalled in modern art, and
not surpassed by the ancients. His father being a painter,
he was bred up in the art; and his master Perrugino, was a
great man in his way, though somewhat of a Goth. In style,
therefore, Raffaelle lost time with him ; but could he have
gone in early life to such a school as Sicyon, there is no
knowing to what a pitch of perfection he might have carried
the art. His latter excellence is entirely owing to his own
sense, based on the antique ; for most of what he learnt from
Perrugino he had afterwards to unlearn. He entered the
Vatican at twenty-five, and died at thirty-seven. What then
must have been his diligence, his devotion, and his genius.
In any history of painting, at this time of day, to talk of the
subjects of the Vatican, or the Madonnas, so often copied, so
often engraved, so often seen, so often praised, would be tres¬
passing on the temper of the reader. His character, as well
as that of his art, was the very converse of Michel Angelo.
Michel Angelo envied his equals, was kind to his inferiors,
and always insulting to his superiors ; whilst Raffaelle was
kind to all, and the idol of the society in which he moved.
Michel Angelo associated with no men but admirers. The
consequence was that his life was written by his flatterers
Condivi and Vasari, a great portion, perhaps, delicately in¬
sinuated by himself; and, as might be expected, they have
sacrificed Raffaelle to the Dagon of their idolatry. Vasari
insinuated that Raffaelle was greatly indebted to Michel An¬
gelo ; and Reynolds following Vasari and Condivi, goes far¬
ther than either, asserting that Raffaelle owed his existence
to Michel Angelo. Was there ever such gratuitous assump¬
tion ? If it means any thing, it means that but for Michel
Angelo, his genius would never have been developed. Is
such an absurdity worthy of Reynolds’ understanding ? Surely
not, and in fact it can be made clear that Raffaelle did not
owe his existence to Michel Angelo. If he owed any thing
to that great artist, he owed the corruption of his own pure
style. After the Capella Sistina was opened, Raffaelle, bit
like every body else by its heavy, cumbrous, vulgar, broad,
and circular design, immediately tried it; but it did not suit
his beautiful nature any more than it would have suited the
elliptical beauty of the heroic forms of Greece.
What does Reynolds mean when he says, that “ Raffaelle
had more taste and fancy, Michel Angelo more genius and
imagination ?” If genius be nothing more than the ordinary
faculties of men carried to a greater pitch of intensity than
ordinary men possess them, wherein had Michel Angelo
more genius than Raffaelle ? Their geniuses were both
equal; but the road which each took for the exercise of his
genius was different. Raffaelle excelled in expressing the
passions; Michel Angelo in sublimity of character, inde¬
pendently of all passion and emotion. Though the mate¬
rials of Raffaelle’s art are generally borrowed, are they more
so than Michel Angelo’s ? Is not Michel Angelo as much
indebted to Luca Signorelli and the Campo Santo, for Ids
choice of subjects in the Sistine, as Raffaelle is in the Va¬
tican ? This does not invalidate their genius ; whilst their
predecessors were the root, the stem, the leaves, and the
bud, they were the full blown flower. Michel Angelo was
a great genius, and so was Raffaelle; but each owed his
genius to a power totally independent of the other. Their
geniuses were equal, their temperaments different. Raffaelle
was at the mercy of pleasure ; Michel Angelo disdained it:
JL
68
Painting.
PAINTING.
Raffaelle was made for society; Michel Angelo despised it.
' In Raffaelle’s works there is a geniality of soul with which
every man’s and woman’s heart beats in sympathy ; whilst
we have no sympathy with the characters of Michel Angelo
who overwhelms our imaginations, but never touches our
hearts. We are awed by his sibyls, but we could never
think of loving them ; and his demons are surely unworthy
of the fiery solitudes of hell. How could Ariosto say ot
him,
“ Michel, pin che mortel,
Angel divino
and then herd up Raffaelle with Sebastian and inferior men ;
Michel Angelo was perhaps the more moral man of the two,
but not the greater painter.
Vasari and Condivi would never have been allowed to
publish their falsehoods, as Lanzi says, had Raffaelle been
living; but where were Julio Romano, Luca Penni, and
Polidoro, whom Raffaelle had raised from a mason’s boy to
a great painter ? Where were they ? where were his “ dear
pupils ?” “ Let no man,” says Johnson, “ look for influence
beyond his grave.” Vasari asserts that Michel Angelo, in
flying to Florence, when he quarrelled with Pope Julius II.,
left the keysofthe Sistine Chapel, which he was then pamting,
to Bramante, Raffaelle’s uncle, who dishonourably let in Raf¬
faelle ; and that the latter, on seeing the grand design of the
prophets, changed his whole style. This absurdity was
current in Europe for two hundred and fifty years, till Lan¬
zi, with his usual acuteness, opened the eyes of the world.
Would any one believe, that when Michel Angelo fled to
Florence, it was in 1506, years before Raffaelle ever enter¬
ed Rome, and four or five before the chapel was ever be¬
gun or painted? It may be presumed that Raffaelle did
not surreptitiously derive any advantage from works four
years before they were conceived or painted ; and we con¬
ceive that Bramante could not give Raffaelle the keys to
open a door which was never locked, especially as Michel
Angelo did not leave any keys, if ever he left them at all,
till four years after the time Vasari dates as the period.
The prophet Esaias which Vasari says shewed an alteration
of style in consequence of the stolen views of works which
were not in existence, was painted one or two years before
Michel Angelo touched this very chapel. So much for
Vasari’s sacrifice of Raffaelle to the great Dagon of his ido¬
latry ; and so much for Reynolds’ absurd and unthinking
assertion, that “but for Michel Angelo, Raffaelle would never
have existed.” Vasari’s is a delightful book, and all his
principles of art are sound, for they are the result of con¬
versations with the greatest men; he was most intimate
with Michel Angelo, and Titian, and all the great artists
of the day, and constantly in their painting-rooms, at their
tables, and in their society.
In the first years of Raffaelle, his feeling was so com¬
pletely Perrugino’s, that it was almost impossible to distin¬
guish their works ; though there is a difference in feeling,
and that difference is in favour of the pupil. In the Louvre
were three of his early works of cabinet size. 1 he Annun¬
ciation was one of these ; and more grace, innocence, or
sweetness, were never put on canvas. Raftaelle s penci
seemed always to melt when he approached a woman or an
angel. What an age of genius this was, and how nearly all
the great men seemed to come together. Da Vinci was
born in 1452, Bartolomeo in 1469, Michel Angelo in 1474,
Titian in 1480, and Raffaelle in 1483. . .
In a rapid and concise history of art to detail the inferior
names, who gradually by little and little, conduce to the
ultimate expansion of genius, is impossible. A historian of
this description has only time for leading points, or head¬
lands in the voyage ; he has not leisure to dive into every
little cape, bay, and projection, which by degrees, push the
mainland into the ocean. The older painters of the Roman
school will not add much to the interest of the art; and a
fair estimation of Raffaelle and his glorious school, is much Painting,
more likely to benefit the student, and instruct the general
reader. It is not, on the whole, morally just; but many
eminent men become thus swallowed up in the blaze of
their successors. As Shakespeare nearly deadens all feeling
for previous excellence, so does Raffaelle, though Shake¬
speare, Michel Angelo, Raffaelle, and Titian were all in¬
debted to their predecessors.
If Julius was adapted for Michel Angelo, Leo X. was
peculiarly so for Raffaelle; though Mengs says that the hon
ours and indulgences he received from Leo, made him lux¬
urious and idle, and that he was not so industrious as dur¬
ing the short reign of his first patron Julius. Yet his rapid
advance from the first picture he painted in the Vatican, to
the Heliodorus, is extraordinary ; and, as according to Va¬
sari, he sent artists to draw for him in Greece, there is no
doubt that he had a sketch of the pediment of the Parthe¬
non, before it was blown up, and that the Heliodorus is but
a skilful adaptation of the Ilyssus. He was so much over¬
whelmed by employment and honours, that his latter works
in the Vatican were wholly placed in the hands of his pu¬
pils, and carried on with the spirit of a manufactory. He
was then appointed architect to St. Peter s at the death of
St. Gallo, which distracted his thoughts. Incessant appli¬
cation, and incessant thinking of course weakened his deli¬
cate frame, nor did the capricious and harrassing attend¬
ances on such a court increase his strength; added to which
the maddening love of women for one so highly gifted and
so handsome, his own devoted passion for Fornarina, and
the endless demands on his brain, brought him to the grave
at thirty-seven, absolutely borne down, like Byron, by ex¬
citement of every description, nervous, bodily and mental.
This is the way with the world ; they kill a favourite by
kindness, and an offender by cruelty.
In some life of him an attempt was made to prove that
he caught cold by hurrying from his work to the palace at
the Pope’s order, and standing while in a profuse perspiration
in a draught. Butthatis no refutation of the previous causes ;
the question is, what prepared him to be killed by such a
cause ? Incessant work and dissipation ; no painter can do
both. Of course princes must be obeyed at any expense ,
they seem to feel little for their dependants, as if in revenge
for being themselves deprived of so many enjoyments by
ceremony and etiquette. Napoleon used to take great de¬
light in never suffering old German maids of honour with
fifty quarters in their arms to sit in his presence.
His last work, according to Mengs, was his I ransfiguration
in oil, a work deficient in masterly execution, and having a
laboured look of smoothness. In drapery, in character, and
in expression it was fine ; but in the Louvre it looked small.
By the side of Corregio, it seemed hard ; by that of 1 itian,
raw; by that of Tintoretto, tame ; and the Christ’s head was
not equal to Corregio’s at the National Gallery. It was not
an example to hold forth to a young man as faultless. 1 he
Cartoons at Hampton are finer in point of execution alone ;
they are his finest works for all the requisites of art. He ivas
not restrained by designing for tapestry ; his genius was put
forth with a Venetian power of brush ; and there are heads
equal to any, especially the frightened woman’s head in the
Ananias, in these wonderful works.
In beauty he was far inferior to the Greeks; in form he
could not approach them ; in composition he was perfect;
in expression, deep; and in telling a story, without a ri¬
val. Taking into consideration all the great men in modern
art," this young man, not highly educated like Rubens, must
be placed on the throne, till one arises who shall have what
he had not, in addition to his own perfections; and that
vouno- man will probably arise in Britain. He was an ex¬
traordinary creature ; modest, timid, and amiable ; affec¬
tionate to his equals, and gentle to the highly-born, his
premature death gave a shock to Rome, which those only
PAIN
Painting, can estimate, who know the depth of Italian sensibilities.
s^-^^w'But did he die too young? Not at all. He might have
decayed, or he might have become more luxurious and more
neglectful. No man dies too young who dies with all the
sympathies of the world unexhausted about him. The fu¬
ror Raphaelis is the best species of fury that can seize a
young student. He has no manner, no affectation, no vice,
no grand style; all is simple, natural, and unaffected. His
women are creatures of gentleness and love, though none
are perfectly handsome. Perhaps he was more adapted
for the characteristic heads of apostles than the naked forms
of Greece; in fact he was a great Christian painter, and seem¬
ed born to extend the influence of Christianity by his art.
His father being a painter, he began early of course, and
at sixteen, had painted a picture at Gastello, the composition
of which was in advance of the age. At seventeen he
painted another of the Virgin and Child. In the Sacristy, at
Sienna, he assisted Pinturichio with designs ; in 1504, he
went to Florence, where Michel Angelo and Da Vinci were
making a great noise with their cartoons for the hall; he stu¬
died both, and improved his perspective and colour, in con¬
nexion with Bartolomeo. When Bramante, his uncle, who
was architect to the Pope, advised his Holiness to send for
Raffaelle, the pope consented ; and in April 1508, Raffaelle
entered Rome, and was admitted into the Vatican.
From the continual occupations of Raffaelle in his art
from boyhood upwards, he could not have had a classical
education to any great extent. He knew a little Latin, as
all Catholics did; but he was intimate with Bembo, Castig-
lione, Ariosto, and Aretino; and these men must have
helped him in historical or philosophical knowledge, or mo¬
ral allegory, for the completion of his great works. Raffaelle
left a noble school; and as soon as grief for the loss of their
master had subsided, his pupils set about completing the
works he left unfinished. The battle of Constantine was
done by Julio Romano and Perino del Vaga. As Raffaelle
lay in state, the Transfiguration was placed at the head of
his coffin.
Julio Ro- Julio Romano was the most eminent of his pupils. With
mauo. vast poetry of mind, he did things in a style of execution,
which renders him the purest poet in his art. His sun set¬
ting, and moon rising over our heads, in the Palazzo del T,
is nowhere equalled or approached. Though he put forth
his genius at Mantua, he was a Roman in practice, and to
Raffaelle owed the elements of his art. His colour was crude
and his execution harsh ; yet no one can fail to see in his
Polidoro. works, the real poetry of painting. Polidoro was another
great man of the same school. He was originally a mason’s
boy, and used to prepare the walls for fresco ; but he got
interested in seeing the young men at work, tried to draw
himself, and Raffaelle having assisted him, he became an
eminent painter.
It is interesting to reflect on the affection with which
Raffaelle was surrounded. He never went to court without
being attended by fifty gallant artists. Little must he have
made others feel his superiority; and for once a man of genius
seems to have made envy smile. Though there is an in¬
stinct in the world, the moment a man of genius appears, yet
it depends upon himself whether he is received as a blessing
or an annoyance. Mankind will assault the man who at¬
tempts to command by superiority, instead of leading by cour¬
tesy ; but they will hail him let his superiority be what it
may, who seems willing to help his inferiors with kindness,
or supply their want of knowledge, as if they were doing him
a favour to listen. The whole of this is based on goodness
of heart, tender sympathies, and a consciousness without the
appearance of conceit.
Decline of ^he glory seems to have gone from the Eternal City after
the Roman Raffaelle’s death. In 1527, Rome was stormed and taken
school. by foreign soldiers. The savages bivouacked in the Vatican,
and injured the frescoes by their smoking and fires. Se-
TING. 69
bastian del Piombo attempted to repair them after the sol- Painting,
diersweregone ; and Titian, when in Rome, notknowing Se-^^V-^*
bastian, actually asked him who had been spoiling those beau¬
tiful heads ? The art went on sinking rapidly till 1595. Raf¬
faelle had been dead seventy-five years ; Giorgione, eighty-
four ; Corregio, sixty ; Michel Angelo, thirty ; and Titian,
nineteen. When the usual apprehensions of getting on a
lee-shore seized the patrons and the artists, and the usual
signal of distress was hoisted, Muziano, a pupil of Titian,
founded St. Luke’s Academy in order to raise a new batch
of Raffaelles and Corregios, and save the noble vessel. The
only man who since dazzled for a moment, was Michel An¬
gelo Caravaggio. He had great and original talent, though
founded on common nature, without any abstract notion of
form, any conception of beauty of women, or any refi nement in
anything. With a sledge-hammer for a pencil, he seemed
resolved to batter down all opposition; and by fierce ex¬
tremes of light and shade, bearded men, dead Christs, and
Transteverine beggars for apostles, he founded a school, got
a character, and raised a name, which cannot be forgotten
in the art of Europe.
Lanzi seems to class in the Roman school every body
who practised there for the last three hundred years, but
that is not fair. On this principle, all the Flemings, Dutch,
Germans, Russians, Spaniards, and English, may be of the
school, because they studied there ; and Rubens, Vandyke,
Velasquez, the Caracci and their pupils, as well as our Rey¬
nolds, were, on the same principle, of the Roman school.
About the seventeenth century, this eminent school, in spite
of the academy of St. Luke, went on declining. Birth, de¬
struction, and reproduction seems tobe the principle of every
thing physical, but not of moral or mental powers. Lanzi
attributes this decay to any cause but the right one ; namely,
the absence of genius, the great primary cause, and which
no academy can ever supply.
Cortona, Bernini, and Sacchi,were the heroes of this day; Cortona,
and at a later period appeared Carlo Maratta. Raffaelle be- Bernini,
came to him a substitute for nature ; though in 1689, he gave an(* SacchL
sufficient tone to art, to induce Clement XI. to employ him.
But here, as well as elsewhere, genius was wanting. Carlo
was as heavy as the lumbering folds of his own drapery ; and
so insipid are his large pictures, that it is a question whether
they did not generate in Europe a contempt for large scrip¬
ture subjects, which has lasted ever since. However, im¬
becility had not done spawning; and in a faint struggle for
offspring against nature, out came Pompio Battone, and Ra¬
phael Mengs. To complete the farce, academies began to
be founded in France and in the rest of Europe ; and Pom-
peo Battoni, and Raphael Mengs may be looked upon as a
very fair sample of what academies can produce, have pro¬
duced, and will probably produce to the end ot time. Mengs
was every thing but a man of genius. He was a bad painter
and a deep critic ; and his predicting that we had not the
works which the ancients esteemed the most, was verified, in
a most astonishing manner, by the discovery of the Elgin
marbles. The prediction does honour to the sagacity of
Mengs. Thus end two great schools of form, conception,
expression and composition; the I lorentine and the Roman.
But of these the Roman was unquestionably the greater.
We now come to the Venetian, a great school of colour, Venetian
light and shadow, impasto, and execution, completing the school,
imitation of reality; and in summing up the character of
Italian and Greek art, we shall see that these components of
imitation, each of which characterised an Italian school, were
combined in all schools, as a necessary requisite in the per¬
fection of Grecian imitation.
The most ancient work of Venetian art known, is in Ve¬
rona, in the cellar of a monastery, (Santi Nazarioa Celso). It
is inaccessible to the public, but can be seen in the wood-
cuts of Dionisi. In the part which formed the oratorio of the
faithful, has been painted the mystery of redemption ; it is a
70
PAINTING.
Painting, work of 1070, when the Doge Silvo invited Grecian mosaic
painters to adorn St. Mark; men who though rude in art,
could nevertheless paint. Thus commenced the art in V e-
nice, whither, after Constantinople was takenby the V enetians
in 1204, Greek painters and sculptors, as well as orehci, nock¬
ed in crowds. j ™
In the thirteenth century, painters had increased so much,
that a company was formed, like the English constituent
body to which Hogarth belonged, and laws and constitutions
were made. Things were proceeding m this tram when
Giotto, returning from Avignon, painted at V erona and a-
dua. Nothing of his, however, is left in Verona; but at Padua
the remains of his works are still quite fresh in fresco, and
full of grace and vigour. Such was the early beginning ot
this great school, in which it will be seen that Greeks, as
usual! had the first hand. Various names sprung up in this
period, but the Bellinis are the most important. One ot
them was engaged by Mohammed II. and by his talents up¬
held the honour of the Venetian name; another was the
master of Titian and Giorgione, two of the greatest names
of the Venetian school.
Giorgione. Giorgione was a great genius ; and his executmn was en¬
tirely above vulgar prejudices. He saw and seized the lea
ing points of leading objects, and hit them with a touch and
an impasto, of which he had no previous example even in
Leonardo. His breadth and tone were beautiful; and he
first opened the eyes of Titian to the superior value of breadth
and touch, as compared with over-wrought labour and smooth
Titian.
first opened the eyes oi x man m u.c     
and touch, as compared with over-wrought labour and smooth
finish. Giorgione died in the vigour of hishfe, to the greatloss
of the art; forthere is no knowing how much farther hewould
nave carried his principles, or how successfully he would have
disputed the crown with Titian. Lord Carlisle has a small pic¬
ture by this eminent man, of a youth buckling on the ai mour
of a knight, which is exquisite in tone, brilliancy, depth, and
feeling ; and had he not been cut off by the plague, there
is no knowing how far he might have gone. He certainly
first opened Titian’s eyes to the value of breadth, and that
comprehension of mind required to seize the leading cha¬
racteristics of objects by a touch, leaving the atmosphere
to finish at a given distance. After his death, Titian was
without a rival. This great painter began, of course, like all
Venetians, to paint directly from nature, without having pie-
viously dissected or drawn ; nor was he sensible of this error
of the Venetian school, till coming to Rome and seeing the
works of Michel Angelo, Raffaelle, and the antique, he, like
a great genius, set about remedying his deficiency; and
the perfection of this union of form and colour is seen in his
P-reatest work, Pietro Martyre, any attempt to move which
from Venice, the Venetian senate decreed should be punished
with death. This picture occupied him eight years; and
eight years were well spent in such a production. The ter¬
rific gasping energy of the assassin, who has cut down the
monk • the awful prostration of the monk, wounded, and im¬
ploring heaven ; tL flight of his companion, striding away m
terror, with his dark mantle against a blue sky , the tower
W and wavinc- trees, the entrance, as it were, to a dreadful
forest; the embrowned tone of the whole picture, with i s
dark azure and evening sky, thedistant ”oun,ta'"s ^orTof
splendid glory above, contrasting with the gloomy horrors o
the murder ; its perfect, though not refined drawmg,.ttsu-
blime expression, dreadful light and shadow, and exqmst e
colour; Si united, render this the most perfect pcture in
Italian art. Why does not one perfect work entitle a man
to rank as highly as a series of imperfect works, like the
Capella Sistina? The answer is, because there is greater
range of capacity shewn in a series of conceptions to i us
trate a theory, than in the completion of one work alone,
although all the component parts may be perfect; and 1 a -
faelle, and Michel Angelo, will ever rank higher than Titian,
as Polygnotus will rank higher than Protogenes or Apelles.
Prolific thinking, is surely of more value than intensity o
imitation, though intensity of imitation must be added to
realize the idea of a perfect painter. . . , ,
Titian began in the style of his master Bellini, with the
most minute finish ; a capital basis for future practice, it a
man have comprehension to know when to leave it, as ii-
tian did. To shew the young artist that it is never too late
to improve, let him compare the Bacchus^and Ariadne in
our National Gallery, when he could not draw finely, with
the Pietro Martyre when he could. In modern art, he was
the only painter who hit the characteristic of flesh. Lvery
great painter’s flesh is paint; Titian’s had real circulation o
blood under the skin. On comparing the Ganymede, in our
National Gallery, fine as it came from Titian s pencil, with the
Theodosius by Vandyke, which is close to it, as fine a spe¬
cimen of Vandyke’s fire of brush as can be seen, the heavy
leathern look of Vandyke’s colour excited astonishment. In
the flesh of Ganymede, colour, oil, brush, and canvas, were
all entirely forgotten ; it quivered, it moved with the action
of the limbs. In Vandyke, the materials of art are upper¬
most ; you think of them, you wonder at the touch, you to/‘"
get the subject, the expressions as it were scenting of the
painter’s room and the easel. And so you do with all the
Flemings, but never with Titian. T^gh, we e "I16
Titians in England, the Dianabeing at LordEgerton s, and a
head at the Duke of Sutherland’s ; yet it must be confessed,
that the Louvre possesses Titians more perfect, ^specia y
the entombing of Christ. In Josephine s collection at Mal-
maison, there were a Venus and Cupid, as perfect as our
Ganymede, and not injured by restoring, the fatal propensity
of the French. In Titian whenever you see the blues sober
and in harmony, the picture is uninjured; whenever you see
them harsh and too brilliant, they have been rubbed, and
the last tone has been taken off. _ r ,
In colour, he was never equalled; in execution of the brush,
he was quite perfect; and in character and expression of por¬
trait he waslike Reynolds elevated andsubhme; but the dull¬
ness which portrait, if perpetually practised, engenders in
the capacity to idealise and elevate, rendered his conception
of poetical characters defective. Nothing can exceed his
Aretino, his senators, and his popes; nothing can exceed
Sir Joshua’s Lord Heathfield and Mrs. Siddons; but no¬
thing can be meaner than some of Titian s attempts, like
Raffaelle, at high poetical expression, except some of Rey¬
nolds’ heads in the Beaufort. The nerve and beauty ot the
colour in Diana and Acteon are so touching, that one can
almost fancy one hears the water ripple and the leaves wave.
Glazing was the great feature in his tone, as it was m that
of Apelles ; and there is no perfect colour without it.
The first requisite in fine colour is the ground or prepa¬
ration spread over the canvas to receive the colours. It is
either of a nature to absorb the oil, or to resist the absorp¬
tion. If it resist the absorption of the oil out of the colour
put on it, it is an oil-ground ; if it absorb the oil, it is a wa¬
ter-ground. And it has long been an interesting question,
whether the Venetians used an oil-ground or an absorbent
ground; whether, like the Greeks, they worked in tempera,
and varnished out, or whether they judiciously mingled
both oil and tempera together. One would think that Va¬
sari, living as he did with all the great painters, could not
be ignorant of their various methods of practice. In lob/
or 1568, he called on Titian, saw him,stayedwithhim,wasin
his painting-room, and must have talked on art, and per¬
haps dined or supped with him.1 But Vasari distinctly says
in a sort of recipe-introduction to his lives (edition 15b8)
“ that the ground on wood was gesso, plaster of Paris ; that
, r in Tichozri Titian seems to have been a sociable man, and there are extracts from
i All the great painters seemed to prefer supper, hi i icnozzi, ^ ^
Titian’s and Aretino’s letters, alluding to pheasants, and presents o
PAINTING.
Painting, then they mixed three colours, white, yellow, and amber,
and spread them equally over the white ground; and that
after tracing their cartoons, they painted their pictures.” A
more abominable ground never was mixed ; to those who
have an organ of colour it is an absolute emetic; and though
it might have been Vasari’s and the Florentines’ ground,
it never could have been endured by the eye of a Venetian.
u This was the method,” says Vasari, “ for pictures on
wood; but when canvas became the fashion, gesso being
likely to crack in ceiling, they made a ground of flour (fa¬
rina), white lead, and nut-oil, after the canvas had been
smoothed by size.”1
Nowwhen this was published, Titian, Tintoretto, and Paolo
Veronese were alive and all at work; and it is but common
sense to conclude, that had it been false, they would have
contradicted it. Vasari concludes with saying, “ So are paint¬
ed all the great works in St. Mark’s Place, Venice.” In that
place was the Miracle of the Slave, by Tintoretto, afterwards
seen by every body in the Louvre. Lanzi says, that the V ene-
tians preferred canvas, but that at first they painted in tem¬
pera, and then came oil-painting, which the Venetians first
adopted. On the arrival of the Bacchus and Ariadne in
England, a little bit chipped off at the corner showed the
ground underneath to be of the purestwhite. Now, if a white
ground is absorbent, it sucks the oil out of the oil colours,
and becomes the colour of oil. Sir Humphry Davy said to
the author of this article in 1823, that in process of time oils
become varnishes ; and it is not impossible that the white
round of Titian may have been absorbent, and though it
ad sucked out the oil in the course of three hundred years,
it may have recovered its original whiteness. The author’s
experience extends only to thirty years, and in that period
an absorbent ground which sucked out oil has never recovered
its whiteness.
But, if the Venetians painted first in tempera upon the
white ground, and finished in oil, the tempera intervening
between the last painting and the ground would preserve
the ground white ; and as Titian’s method of proceeding
was gradual and progressive in successive layers, like that
of Protogenes, so that each layer became a help to the suc¬
ceeding one, there is no reason to doubt that tempera might
have been the first impasto. In parts of the Pietro Mar-
tyre, there certainly was the crude look of tempera prepa¬
ration, softened by a glaze, especially about the projecting
leg of the assassin. That the basis of Venetian pictures was
a white ground, there can be no doubt; like the intonacos
of Apelles, and the plaster-grounds of the painted mummy-
coffins of Egypt. Tintoretto and Bassano used dark grounds
to save trouble; but they are ruinous. They come through
the thin half-tints of the picture, and render it distinct mas¬
ses of dark and light, like most of the Lombard school.
Many of the works of Paul Veronese, who painted one hun¬
dred years before, were in perfect preservation in the Louvre,
whilst a number of the Lombard pictures were gone. The
white ground was the “ luce de dentro ” of the Italians,
“ the light within.” Upon this beautiful white ground they
placed their colours purely and crudely, and then by spread¬
ing thin transparent tones, took down the rawness, without
losing the force of the tint. This was the practice of the
Greeks, and is also the present practice of the British school.
When Cicognara, the president of the Venetian academy,
was in England, he remarked to the author on the singular
fact, that the British was the only school of colour left in
the world, though our climate was the worst; and such was
the state of Venice some years since, that an English consul
could get nobody to paint the king’s arms for him, and being
the soil of a painter, he was actually obliged to paint them
As an example for the student, Titian is perfect. His
71
execution never attracts by itself alone, but as the vehicle Painting,
of the object it imitates. In colour he is never gaudy,
never black in light and shadow, never forced or affected,
and in drawing, latterly, grand. In composition he was not
so perfect nor so fertile as Raffaelle ; but in the imitation of
flesh, no other artist in the world, except Apelles perhaps,
could rival him. As a painter of portrait and landscape, no
one has surpassed him. He did not grace his senatorial heads
with the beauty of the backgrounds of Reynolds or Van¬
dyke ; but the absence of all gaiety behind the heads, per¬
haps added to the sublimity of their expression. It is cu¬
rious to read in Boschini’s little work, that young Palma,
who had it from old Palma, a pupil of Titian, told him
that Titian very often finished with his thumb. Palma dis¬
tinctly says, that he has seen Titian put on with his thumb
and fingers masses of colour which gave life to a picture.
In a word, neither of the great Italian schools showed
the sense of the ancients. The Romans omitted colour and
imitation from sheer accident; the Venetians drawing and
form ; and Reynolds, without going into the causes of these
mutual deficiencies, laid it down as a principle, that colour
and reality were incompatible with high art; whereas, when
each school found out its deficiency, each endeavoured to
correct its peculiar defect.
The giant of Titian’s school was Tintoretto, who gave Tintoretto,
such early indications of self-will and genius, that Titian,
mean and jealous, turned him out of the house. Raffaelle
would not have done this; he did not turn out Julio Ro¬
mano. But Tintoretto was not to be crushed by the bad
passions of his envious master; and took it very properly as
an evidence of his talent. And what did Titian get by his
paltry meanness ? Nothing but pity. Tintoretto, young as
he was, immediately formed a plan of his own, for combin¬
ing the drawing of Michel Angelo with the colour of Titian.
He devoted the day to the one, and many parts of many nights,
and often whole ones, to the other. In a few years, the result
was the Miracle of the Slave and the Crucifixion. Al though
the execution of Tintoretto looked daring and impudent
by the side of the modest, senatorial dignity of Titian, yet
there was a grand, defined dash about it. The original
sketch of the Miracle of the Slave, formerly in the possession
of Rogers the poet, is a very fine thing. Everybody speaks
of the Crucifixion as a wonderful instance of power. But in
colour it is lurid and awful; in expression, character, and
delicacy of feeling, discordant and offensive. His pictures
seem to be a mass of fore-shortenings, affected twistings,
dashing darks, and splashing lights, with a hundred horse¬
power of execution ; bearded heads, Venetian armour, silks,
satins, angels, horses, architecture, dogs, water, and brawny-
armed and butcher-legged gondoliers, without pathos, pas¬
sion, or refinement. He used to put little models in boxes,
and light them in different holes, for effect. Like all Ita¬
lians, he was accustomed to model and hang up his models
by threads for fore-shortening. His style of form was a
mixture of the pulpiness of the Venetian, and the long, ano-
tomical, bony look of the Florentine school. He cannot be
depended upon for correctness of proportions, but he was
a grand and daring genius ; and his conduct, when oppress¬
ed by Titian, should ever be held up as an example for the
aspiring youth, when trodden upon by his elders.
Whilst Tintoretto was astonishing the Venetians by his Paul Vero-
daring, which made even Titian tremble, Paul Veronese, nese.
the other great contemporary, was mildly pursuing his azure
and beautiful course. Of a nature the reverse of Tintoretto,
and not equal to him in sublimity or terror of conception, he
yet gave equal evidence of being run away with by his brush.
Ceilings, canvas, halls, walls, and palaces, were so many
proofs of his power. His greatest work is at Paris. It is the
Marriage of Cana, a wonderful instance of executive power ;
1 This is Vasari’s account, pp. 51, 52, 53, Firenze, volume i. 1568.
72
PAINTING.
Painting, but here all story, sentiment, and pathos, are buried in the
< v ' noise, bustle, eating, drinking, and fiddling of a Venetia
city feast. Paul Veronese was certainly the most coirup
painter of the time. . r> i
Cannaletti, After these greatmen, the art began to ^eay i And Pa
&£C.
man
After these great men, uie ni l ^ j .
Veronese and Tintoretto gave symptoms of a conventional
mode, which, when taken up by infer,or men, hastened its
ruin. Down to the present age, with the exception of two
or three mannerists, no name occurs worthy of eminence
selection. Cannaletti was a genius in Ins way. Sebastia
Ricci, and Marco Ricci, were much employed in England
to disfigure ceilings and palaces by wholesale, with gods and
goddesses, in subjects ahegoricah poetical, mythological arul
nonsensical, to understand which it required pages of expla¬
nation, and to see which a nine-feet telescope by Dolland.
Montague, Burlington, and Bulstrode houses, are signs o
the infatuation of the English nobility at that time jani-
fatuation, however, which shewed a disposition to employ
ad been ’employed in Italy, and » *0 gen.ua had
been equal to the opportunity, the result would have been
Lombard ^hTnext school of any importance is the Lombard school,
and Par- which comprehends the Mantuan, the Modenese, the Cre-
schoo!. monese and the Milanese. Andrea Mantegnais thehero o
ttaMmituan school, and Vasari says, that his master-pieces are
the tempera designs which we have at Hampton Comt. I hey
Te fine things ; Rubens used them ; and they are a mine of
costume, though the formshave too much the look of the mo¬
del Julio Romano’s great work is at Mantua, yet he must be
considered as a RomL The works of Mantegna we*,, as
Lanzi says, the greatest effort of the last style before Leo¬
nardo da5^ Vinci Introduced a new one, which overturned
the Gothic. After Julio Romano, the art decayed, and
then of course came the old story, “ Una accadem.a per
avvivarla.” This academy has been splendidly kePtJT
by Austria, and, as usual, has not produced a single ma
of ereat genius in three hundred years.
Contiguous to the Modenese school is the Parman ; and
now we come to the most unaccountable and delightful of all
painters, Corregio. When it had been determined to or¬
nament the great cupola of St. John, Corregio, 1‘|'n
avouno- man, was selected to paint it; and, like Raffae e,
hi genius expanded with the opportunity. After Raffael e,
Titian Michel Angelo, Da Vinci, and Bartolomeo, who
would have thought that another style, independent of either^
rndunlike any thing else in theworld, couldhave burst out?
But so it was. ^ Of all the painters that ever lived in the world,
there is no accounting for Corregio. Unlike Greeks, Ro¬
mans and Italians, out he came into the world, in colour,
drawing, 1 ight and shadow, composition, expression, and foi m,
like naturet and unlike every body e se, who ever studied na-
d all Michel Angelo, Raffaelle, Titian, we can tiace ,
we see upon whom they^vyer® graft®d»^vhen^kcy budded^nd
burst forth. But who is Corregio r Nobody is certain
Onefswears he was poor, another that he was we 1 off; ano-
Ser died in consequence of a fever winch he caught
by carrying all his money m copper t),e pnce of a p.c m
another protests it was no such thing. Men
the best and Vasari's mostly without ?"*™ty- . .
There is uncertainty that Ins portra, ■» '" cj'51™® / “
fact there is as much dispute about it as tie jj
peare’s; and here are his beautiful works, N°“e> '“s.
Catherine, his Christ in the Garden, Ins Magdalene, his
nus and Mercury, and his Ercello'mo in the a ion. ' . . ’
the only head of Christ in the world. Tins head of Clmst
ought to be reverenced as the identification o ,
ter, as much as the head of Jupiter by Phidias was in
Pagan world. There is no Christ’s head by Raffaelle which
at all approaches it, either in the Transfiguration or in any
other work ; and the head by Leonardo da Vinci in the ga -
lery cannot be endured after it. Of all painters, he aston-
Corregio.
ishes one the most. If any fault is to be found with him, Painting,
his men have a touch too effeminate. His colour is exqui-^v^
site • his light and shadow are enchanting, but his forms
defective ; his composition is simple and infantine ; his e -
session unimpassioned, but sweetness itself; and when sor¬
row or suffering was to be represented, who ever did it more
tenderlythan Corregio? Let any manwhodoubts this, dwell
for a moment on the gentle suffering, and the feminine yet
manly beauty of the Christ above mentioned. It is the very
ChSwho commanded by submission; without weakne s
beautiful without effeminacy tender; without taint the
nersonification of love. His hands, his shoulders, Ins beard,
his hair, belong to that divine being who vanquished sin,
by yielding to torture. It does not seem painted but as it
we/e spread upon the canvas by an angel s breath. His
men look as innocent as girls ; his women as guileless as in¬
fants; and his infants as if they had just co«je{rom the skies
In the cupola at Parma, the great wonder is the fore
shortening ;Pand in the mouths of the vulgar this is techni-
Sl perfection; whereas there is nothing more P-ely me¬
chanical, nothing in fact you can so easily teach.Ocsine
smile of Corregio’s angels, one touching look of Kaftaelle
apostles, Si°e sentiment0 of the Duke de Lorenzo by Michel
Ano-elo, one crimson tone by Titian, are wmth all the tore
shortening on earth. The greatest ^ their tbre-
relli, Buonarotti, and Corregio, are said to ^ their tore
shortenings ; whereas the greatest excellencies of Buona-
rntti and Corregio are not their fore-shortening at all.
In spite of the perfections of this wonderful man, he
foundeTUit were the decay, “le commencement &
la fin.” His breadth in fresco produced Lanfranco, Co
tona, and Giordano, who covered Italian palaces with t ie
sweepinq brush of our patent chimney-cleansers, begin¬
ning^ fn the morning, finishing it by the evfni«g stand¬
ing on the floor, and disdaining a scaffold, previous study, or
previous thinking ; and others came who bedaubed the pa
faces of Europe with clouds like feather-beds, cornucopias
and Jupiters, till one’s brain aches in thinking of them.
Reynolds was immensely indebted to Corregio ; for Rem¬
brandt and Corregio certainly the bases onus st>le.
One of the most beautiful works in the Lou ‘
Marriao-e of St. Catherine, which when once seen haunts
us in after life in dreams. In a word, Corregio was an
angel that passing this earth in its flight, firoopeditswings
and dropped upon it, to give us a foretaste of the smiles
which welcome a happy spirit in a purer sphere.
W Parmegiano is the next important name in this school, Parmeg.-
who grafted the grace of Corregio on the affectations o
Michel Angelo. His greatest work is in our National
Gallery; the Vision of St. Jerome. The Christ is a beautiful
boy, but affected ; the Virgin is Michel-Angelesque, having
the Glumdalclitch look of his Brobdignagian women
St. John is finely drawn, but not unexceptionable, and the
St. Jerome is sleeping in a position as it he had got into a
cramp in the first part of the vision, and could not &et out
Iffl it was over. It is raw in colour, skinned m construe-
tion, and spoils the composition altogether. His small p c
tures are beautiful but long in proportion. His fingers seem
always to move to music ; and his limbs to be consciou
gracefully they are disposed. He lias often been a fatal
example to the young. Nor is his Moses, whatever Gray
may say of it, an instance of the sublime. 1 he expression
is mean, and the form overdone. Parmcgiano died, like
Raffaelle at the age of thirty-seven, when all t int was ex¬
pected of him had not been realised, and \>ncn, if he had
lived longer, perhaps he would have done worse.
In 1570, the best Corregieschi were grown old or dea , School^
and the school of Parma began to give way to that of Bo-Bol g
lojrna the truly great academical school. This was not an
academy in th/ modern sense of the word ; it was a school,
and nothing but a school, without distinctions, and managed
PAINTING.
73
Painting, by directors ; and it is the only academy which has ever pro -
duced any genius. Dominichino, Guido, and other names
of the second period, came between unrivalled excellence
and approaching destruction, and stopped for a little time
the decay of the art.
Of the Cremona school, there is no great name. In the
Milanese school, Da Vinci seems the hero; he founded
an academy which, according to Lanzi, was the first in Eu¬
rope that reduced art to rules, the works of Leonardo be¬
ing the canon. His great work is in the refectory. But
fifty years afterwards Aramini says that it was spoiled ; in
1642 Scannelli writes, that it was with difficulty made out;
and Barry ultimately saw it destroyed by a restorer. When
Eugene Beauharnois was viceroy of Italy, he drained the
refectory and had it paved with tiles; and it is said in a re¬
port, that the colours began to revive. Da Vinci’s acade¬
my having produced no talent, Maria Theresa founded
another, which, though full of casts of every description, has
nevertheless proved equally unsuccessful.
The Caracci and their pupils were the last crop of genius
which Italy threw up, and though they were second-rate,
they came of the breed of the great who were no more.
The style of Michel Angelo seems to have taken early root
in Bologna, perhaps from his executing in that place the
statue of Julius II. Giotto, in the first instance, excited
emulation by flying about Italy; but he seems to have scat¬
tered everywhere the seeds of art, and Tibaldi, after hav¬
ing studied in Rome, certainly founded this style at Bo¬
logna. The first school formed was by Bagna Cavallo, and
Primaticcio. It failed in 1564; upon which Primaticcio went
to France, and Tibaldi to Spain, and the art was of course
neglected.
The Caracci succeeded them and were extraordinary
men ; but what would they have done if Raffaelle, Michel
Angelo, Titian, and Corregio had never lived? They
saw nature only by the help of their great predecessors.
Whatever the Caracci did had the appearance of labour;
whilst whatever was done by their great predecessors, had
an air as if there was something that no labour could at¬
tain. Ludovico had more feeling than his brothers, and
had the honour of being instructed by Tintoretto. They
were the sons of a tailor, and founded an academy in their
own house. Agostino principally engraved, and Annibale
principally painted ; but they each contributed instruction
to the school in which were formed Dominichino, Guido,
Lanfranco, Guercino, and Albano.
Guido, Gu- The greatest genius of the school was Guido ; but he was
ercino, and envied by the Caracci; and even in this school the vices of
Albano. an academy began to appear. We did not find Raffaelle
sowing discord amongst his pupils by putting one against
the other. Albano was opposed to Guido. Dominichino was
an eminent but heavy genius; and his communion of St. Je¬
rome is a fine thing though dull. There was a vulgar gran¬
deur about Guercino, and an insipidity about Albano. The
great work of Annibale Caracci is the Farnese gallery,
which is excellent in every thing, but nerve and genius. Say
what you will about the Caracci, there is a want in their art,
which affects the pen of him who is attempting to do them
justice. They lived together, did not marry, and were ill
paid and ill-tempered ; like all old bachelors they were dis¬
contented, they did not know why, and fidgety, they did not
know for what; they envied the talents they were desirous
of bringing forward, called the art their “ wife,” and were
never satisfied, living in a perpetual fret of teaching, and paint¬
ing, and complaining. Annibale became dissipated and
led early. It is an extraordinary feature in the moral cha¬
racter ol the Italian artists, that the greater part did not
^ence came the cant “ of the art being their
wi e, with the natural consequence, that girls who had
be^1, m”dels generally ended by being mistresses.
I he Caracci kept up this affectation, they said the art was
VOL. XVIL
their ii cara sposa; and to all the confusion of a bachelor’s Painting,
house, added the slang of a mere painter’s habits. At the
dinner-table, crayon and paper were always at hand to
catch attitudes, actions, and expressions, and groups ; as if
expressions and attitudes could not have been remember¬
ed in the solitude of the study, and kept till wanted with
just as much effect as this vulgar intrusion on the usages of
society. A great artist is always a man of the world; an
inferior one a man of the palette. Raffaelle, Titian, Angelo,
Rubens, and Reynolds, would have passed a twelvemonth
in any society w ithout being discovered to be artists; but
the Caracci would have talked of tone and touching during
the first half-hour. A genteel woman, accidentally travelling
in a coach with three artists who were palette-men, expres¬
sed afterwards her wonder and suspicion as to the state of
their intellects. For after the usual dead silence, one of them
said, with an air of vast profundity: “ How finely the white
sheet in the hedge carries oft' the colour in the sky.” “ And
look at that old woman’s cloak taking up the brick-wall,”
said another. “ Yes,” said the oldest of the set, “ how fine¬
ly it was done yesterday by a red night-cap in a pretty bit
of Sir George.” Johnson used to say, “Sir, we were redu¬
ced to talk of the weather.” But even the weather is prefera¬
ble to this detestable affectation. Though the deepest prin¬
ciple of the ancients was the preservation of beauty in every¬
thing, they never sacrificed beauty to expression, but al¬
ways combined the two ; whereas Guido, by an eternal re¬
petition of the expression of the Niobe in Christs and Vir¬
gins rendered the preservation of beauty at such an expense
insipid. The beauty of the Helen and Paris .was truly ex¬
quisite; but hundreds ofHerodias’s daughters with St. John’s
heads, “ have a look,” as Lord Byron says, “ of bread and
butter.” His grace was the grace of theatres ; his pencil
light, airy, and beautiful, though rather careless than master¬
ly. Dominichino, on the other hand, obedient, slow, and
timid, imitated everybody and fell short of all. But Guer¬
cino was the most original of the school; his finest manner
is his candlelight manner, yet still there is a vulgarity in
his forms.
None of the Caracci or their school, had they been born
at an earlier period, would have advanced the art one iota be¬
yond their predecessors, so entirely dependent were they up¬
on the great who had gone before. “ Such was the state
of art,” says Fuseli, “ when the spirit of machinery destroy¬
ed what was yet left of meaning;” when contrast and
grouping meant composition and thinking, and a mass of
rapid, thoughtless, empty, impudent frescos disgraced the
walls, palaces, and churches of Italy. Pietro of Cortona
and Luca Giordano are the heroes of this inundation of
splashiness; and yet what artists they were ! The decay
which it announced, was the decay of the giant Italian fresco
hand that still struggled to do its duty, whilst the head was
fast approaching imbecility in thought. The meanest pupil
of the meanest machinist would have swept the first-rate
British artist that has ever yet existed into the earth, with
his tiptoes and exhibition-glare.
Thus, with the Caracci and their school, ended the great- Decline of
ness of Italian art; nor has there been one single painter of Italian art.
such genius since, from Andrea Sacchi to Cammucini the
present hero of the Romans. Rubens, Vandyke, and Rem¬
brandt turned it into a new channel in Flanders; Velas¬
quez and Murillo kept it alive in Spain ; Teniers, Ostade,
and Jan Steen preserved it from extinction in Holland ; the
Poussins, Claude, and Salvator, meanwhile revived it in
Italy; whilst the old Gothic masters in Germany, with their
colour, and most of them with great invention but in bad
taste, were an absolute dung-hill of diamonds and pearls,
which everybody has considered himself as having a right
to plunder, not even excepting Raffaelle himself. Whilst
the art was sunk to the lowest depths in Europe, Reynolds
in England broke forth with a brilliancy of colour which
K.
74
PAINTING.
German
school.
Albert
Durer.
Painting, has rendered it no longer a hopeless attempt to rival the
gorgeousness of Venetian splendour. If ever there was a
refutation of Reynolds’ own theory, that « genius was the
child of circumstances,” he was a living one ; in spite ot all
circumstances, in spite of the utter want of all education as
a painter, in spite of all the apathy of the nation, and the
extinction of art in Europe, out he came with a vigour and
beauty which have ever since defied rivalship in portrait and
The Germans are an extraordinary nation, but always
more or less under the influence of a wrong taste. I hen-
early painters are full of thought; and as a proof of what
Raffaelle’s estimation of them must have been, he adopted
almost to the letter, in his famous Spasimo in Spain, Shoen-
e-aer’s magnificent composition of Christ bearing the cross.
The hand leaning on the stone, with the momentary action
of the drapery, is in Shoengaer. The brute pulling Christ, in
an old German dress, Raffaelle has taken and improved ,
and he has also placed the Marys in the fore-ground which
Shoengaer placed in the back-ground; but the whole of
the composition is Shoengaer’s, though Raffaelle of course
has added to it his own perfections.
Albert Diner is considered as the greatest man ot tl e
German school; but there is nothing which he has ever
done that can compete, in expression and composition, with
this fine production of Shoengaer’s. Fuseli says, “Albeit
Durer was a man of great ingenuity, but not of genius. His
proportions of the human figure are on a comprehensive
principle founded on nature, and the result of deep think¬
ing” He had sometimes a glimpse of the sublime, but it
was only a glimpse. The expanded agony of Christ on the
Mount of Olives, and the mystic conception of his figure
of Melancholy, are thoughts of sublimity, though the ex¬
pression of the latter is weakened by the rubbish he ha
thrown about her. His Knight, attended by Death and the
Fiend, is more capricious than terrible ; and his Adam and
Eve are two common models shut up in a rocky dungeon.
« If he approached genius in any part of his art, it was *n co¬
lour ; his colour went beyond his age, and as far excel le
in truth, and breadth, and handling, the oil colour of Raf¬
faelle, as Raffaelle excelled him in every other quality. 1
speak of his easel-pictures; his drapery is broad thoug
much too angular, and rather snapt than folded. Albert
is called the father of the German school, though he nei¬
ther reared scholars nor was imitated by the German artists
of his or the succeeding century. That the exportation
of his works to Italy should have effected a temporary
change in the principles of some Tuscans who had studied
Michel Angelo, as Andrea del Sarto, and Jacopo da P°nt0-
rino, is a feet which proves that minds as well as bodies
may be at certain times subject to epidemic influences.
Lucas von Leyden was the Dutch caricature of Albe
Durer; and ere'long the style of Michel Angelo was
adopted in the same way as by Pelegrino Fibaldi, and be
inePspread by the graver of Giorgio Mantuano, provoked
tlmse caravans of German Dutch, and Flemish stodents,
who, on their return from Italy, introduced at the courts
of Prague and Munich, in Flanders and the Netherlands,
that preposterous manner, that bloated excrescence o
swampy brains, which in the form of man left «^hmg hu¬
man, distorted action and gesture with insane affectatio ,
and dressed the gewgaws of children m colossal shapes, in
the style of Golzius and Spranger. But though content
to feed upon the husks of Tuscan design, they imbibed the
colour of Venice, and spread the elements of tha e*ce
lence which distinguished the succeeding schools o an
ders and of Holland. At this moment out blazed upon
the world that giant of execution and brute violence o
brush, and brilliant colour, and daring composition, Ru¬
bens ; and another mysterious and extraordinary being,
Rembrandt, who seemed born to confound all theory but
Flemish
school.
Von Ley¬
den.
that of innate genius, confirmed it for ever RM>en-S^
riedin the splendour of the rainbow, whilst Rembrandt en-^V"*
joyed only the poetry and solemnity of twilight; when the
evening star glittered, and the sun was down, then was the
h0ThefscholarPofaOtho Venius, Rubens, imbibed from his Rubens,
master an emblematical taste ; he spent eight years m Italy,
hurried back at the death of his mother and painted that
wonder of art the Elevation of the Cross, before he was thirty.
It is the perfection of a fearless hand and daring brush, con¬
scious of its principle ; and though the sweep of Michel An¬
gelo’s contours, applied to butchers’ backs and coal-heavers
legs, rather increased their vulgarity than added to their re¬
finement, yet the dashing power of that astonishing picture,
in spite of its Flemish, pallid, and ugly wretches for women,
renders it the bloom of his powers. Rubens was a man of
such general knowledge, that the Marquis of Spinosa said,
that painting was his least qualification. He was ambassador
to Spain and England, and adorned the banqueting ceiling
at Whitehall, the centre portion forming an amazing picture.
Educated classically, he carried classical feeling into eveiy
thing but his art; and after spouting Virgil with enthusiasm,
he turned to his canvas and painted a ^mish butcher with
bandy legs (if he happened to have such) for Aineas. How
extraordinary it is that, relishing as he (hd, Homer, \irgu,
and Livy, he should give Dutch Helens, Flemish Junes, and
German Diomeds, for classic art. His greatest work is the
Luxembourg Gallery; and for once he hit a sweet female ex¬
pression in the mother of Mary de’ Medicis, after accouch-
ment. One of his finest pieces, the Rape of Proserpine, is
at Blenheim, where the Arethusa, as a water nymph, is put¬
ting up her hand, with her back towards you. That a man
who could occasionally paint with such delicacy, should so
often disgust us with his flabby vulgarity, is not to be ac¬
counted for. He painted portrait finely, landscape sweetly,
and animals with great power, except the lion, whose straig t
shaggy mane he always curled like the ancients, and lost its
noble look. He was a great man, and painted wherever he
went. He was diligent and religious; he rose at foui, heard
mass, and went to his painting-room, where, with little inter¬
mission, he painted till five ; he then rode, and returned to
his friends, many of them the most celebrated men of the
day, who were assembled to meet him at supper ; at eleven
he retired, and again proceeded to work at day-break,
is interesting to contrast this virtuous courseof so great aman,
with the vulgar infidelity which alone distinguishes the most
incompetent in the art; and it is impossible not to conclude,
that those whom God has most endowed with gifts, are the
most sensible of their own imperfections. Rubens was thrice
married, and educated his children highly; one of them
wrote a very learned work, De lato Clavo, which shews re¬
search and learning. . -r
Nowhere did Rubens shine so effectually as in the Lou¬
vre. In all the world, perhaps, there never was such a
splendid opportunity for studying to perfection the princi¬
ples of the great men in the art, as was afforded in the Louvre
in its full glorv ; and injurious as the formation of that col¬
lection had proved to the cities of Italy, yet Napoleon gave a
dignity and an importance to the art, which it has not since
lost, by making the productions of its great men subjects ot
treaty, and receiving them as equivalent to territory or trea¬
sure. There you rushed from the Romans to the Venetians,
from the Flemings to the Spaniards, from Titian to Raffeelle,
from Rembrandt to Rubens, and settled principles in halt
an hour, which it took others months, perhaps years, to ac¬
complish. It cannot be denied, that in force of effect, Ru-
bens bore down all opposition, from his breadth, biightness,
and depth ; and let every painter be assured, that if he keep
these three qualities of effect, the leading qualities in the
imitation of nature, he will defy rivalship in the contest o
exhibition.
PAINTING.
75
Painting.
Rembrandt
Vandyke,
&c.
Teniers,
&c.
Spanish
school.
Rembrandt, with all his magic, painting on too confined
a principle, lost in power, and looked spotty and individual.
Paul Veronese and Tintoretto had not that solidity, which
is the characteristic of Rubens ; Titian seemed above con¬
test, and relying on his native majesty of colour, exhibited
a senatorial repose, which gave to Rubens a look almost of im¬
pertinence ; but still you could not keep your eyes off the
seducer, and even if you turned your back, you kept peeping
over your shoulder. Here all peculiarity suffered. The sil¬
very beauty of Guido looked grey ; the correctness of Raf-
faelle looked hard ; Rembrandt failed most by the bright¬
ness of Rubens, the magic of Corregio, or the sunny splen¬
dour of Titian ; and after wandering about for days, you de¬
cided that he suffered most who had most peculiarity. With
all his grossness, want of beauty, and artificial style, Rubens’
brightness and breadth carried the day, as far as arresting
the eye, and forcing you to look at him, hate as you might
his vulgarity, and his Flemish women, and his Flanders breed
of horses.
Rembrandt van Rhyn, was next to Rubens, in point of
art, and more than equal to him in originality. Whether in
portrait, landscape, or historical pictures large and small, he
was like nobody; as wonderful as any, and sometimes superior
to all. His bistre-drawings are exquisite, his etchings un¬
rivalled ; his colour, light and shadow, and surface, solemn,
deep, and without example ; but in the naked form, male or
female, he was an Esquimaux, His notions of the delicate
form of women, would have frightened an Arctic bear. Let
the reader fancy a Billingsgate fish-woman, descending to a
bath at a moment’s notice, with hideous feet, large knees and
bony legs, a black eye, and a dirty night-cap,—and he will
haveaperfect idea of Rembrandt’s conception of female beau¬
ty. Though his historical pictures are often remarkable for
pathos and expression, his characters are sometimes abso¬
lutely ridiculous. Flis Abrahams are Dutch old clothesmen;
and yet his Jacob’s Dream is sublime beyond expression.
Whatever he painted, he enriched ; his surface was a mass
of genius, and his colour a rainbow, darkened by the gloom
of twilight. In portrait, sometimes, his dignity was equal
to Titian ; but the characters he painted were inferior.
These two wonderful men, each a perfect contrast to the
other, revived art; Rubens on the principles of the Vene¬
tians, and Rembrandt in defiance of all principles. But the
latter sacrificed too much to a peculiarity, and he was punished
for it in the Louvre by the side of others.
Rubens produced Vandyke, Snyders, and Jordaens, and
a whole host of pupils. Vandyke had more elegance, but not
so much imagination ; Jordaens more vulgarity, with equal
power. Snyders was a mere animal painter, and he carried
the touch necessary to execute the hairy skin of an animal,
into every thing he did. Vandyke by his splendid portraits,
certainly generated a love of art in England, which has never
left us, after the destruction of historical painting at the Re¬
formation.
Rembrandt had pupils, who were by no means equal to
himself. David Teniers the elder was a pupil of Rubens.
These two extraordinary men were certainly the founders of
the Dutch school; and the great principles of their works
were carried by David Teniers the younger, Jan Steen,
Ostade, and Cuyp, into smaller and more delicate produc¬
tions. A man of the highest ambition and noblest views in
art can study with the greatest benefit the dead fish and
bunchesof turnips, servantgirlsand drunken boors, for beauty
of handling and effects in art. He who looks down on the
excellencies of the Dutch school, does so from a narrowness
of understanding, and not an enlargement of views ; and if
an historical painter can see nothing to learn in their little
beautiful works, he will not learn much from the greater pro¬
ductions of Titian.
Directly after the Flemish comes the Spanish school, which,
not so vulgar as the former, was equally unideal. The Spani¬
ards painted the people about them for all sorts of subjects Painting,
and all sorts of characters ; and they are only more refined
than the Flemings because the Spaniards are a more culti¬
vated people. The long possession of the Moors prevent¬
ed the Spaniards from advancing as soon as Italy. The great
schools in Spain have been those of Madrid, Seville, and Va¬
lencia. In 1446 Antonio Rincon abandoned the Gothic
of the European artists; in 1475 Gallegos was so like Albert
Diirer, that he is suspected to have been a pupil; in the six¬
teenth century riches flowed in, patronage was liberal, and,
what is most important of all, genius existed in Spain. Be¬
cerra de Baeza, pupil of Michel Angelo, painted in fresco,
at Madrid, Salamanca, and Valladolid; and in theTrinita del
Monte in Rome, there is also a picture of his. Various paint¬
ers follow of course in all the schools, till the coming of the
real hero of Spanish art.
Velasquez was born at Seville in 1599- He became a pupil Velasquez,
of Herrera, and left Seville in 1622, to seek his fortune in the
metropolis; where he succeeded so completely as a portrait
painter, that he got to court, and having become acquainted
with Rubens, often visited his painting-room. Rubens must
have been of the greatest use to him. Velasquez then visited
Italy, but could not bear the Roman school after the Venetian.
In masterly execution and life he surpassed Rubens and Van¬
dyke. Of all the great painters, he seems to have despised the
most the vulgar appetite for what is called/mwA, that is, polish¬
ed smoothness. Every touch from Velasquez is a thought cal¬
culated to express the leading points of the thing intended
to convey it. Masterly beyond description, and delightful
beyond belief, he conveyed the impressions of life as exqui¬
sitely as if his imitation breathed. But so utterly decayed is
the present Spanish school, with its pompous academy, that
Spaniards when asked how they can reconcile their hideous
polish with the freedom of Velasquez, have answered that
Velasquez was always in a hurry.
After Velasquez ranks Murillo, a man of a tenderer genius, Murillo,
but equally alive to life. He has the surface of Corregio and
colour peculiarly his own; and he was what the Italians call
a Naturaliste, indeed, the whole school was of that species.
Like Rembrandt and Rubens, the heroes of history are
always the countrymen of the Spanish painter. The Pro¬
digal Son is one of the finest works in the Duke of Suther¬
land’s collection; it is beautiful in execution, light and sha¬
dow, and colour, but Spanish in character and expression.
They never got beyond their model or their country ; and
this may in a great measure be owing to their masters hav¬
ing been Venetians, though Tibaldi and Torrigiano had visited
Spain. Murillo was an exquisite painter, and if he had been
soundly educatedlike the Greeks, would have beenas refined
in character and form as he is now in colour and handling.
He first got an insight into painting from Moya, a pupil of
Vandyke. Having sold his pictures to hawkers for what
they would bring, he saved money and went to Madrid,
and, with the frankness of genius, at once introduced him¬
self to Velasquez, who received him like another Raffaelle.
After three years of continued kindness, he returned to Se¬
ville, founded an Academy, and for his great work of St. An
tony at Padua, he received ten thousand reals. It is said
that he covered more canvas than any body else; but after the
acres of Rubens in the Louvre, that assertion is questionable.
Velasquez and Murillo, of course, came like the rest, before
academies. One now exists in Madrid, and no genius has
appeared since its institution. It is quite ridiculous to see
the same results all over the world ; and it is still more ri¬
diculous, to find the kings of Europe still continuing to found
and embellish these useless establishments.
In France, throughout all the middle ages, the art of de- pren^
sign was never extinct, either in mosaic, glass, tapestry, fresco, schooL
miniature, or tempera. Though the learned author of the
“ Discours Historique” says, that the French were the first
who presumed to personify the Almighty in the form of
PAINTING.
man: yet nothing worth remembering occurred till the death
of Leonardo, in the arms of Francis L in 1518, and the em-
^ • .• • T'l  _J riol A hna t.P.
ot JLeonarao, in me arms m x ~ ’ ", *i,u
ployment of Primaticcio, Rosso, and Nicolo del Abbate.
Jean Cousin in 1462, and Vouet in 1582, were the first
French painters of any importance m this latter period, bi-
mon Vouet, the younger, was the master of Re Sueur, Le
Brun, Mignard, and Dufresnoy ; he lived in 1600, and the
best period of French art was from that time until 1665, the
beginning of the reign of Louis XIV. They, as usual, foun -
ed an academy, ten years before Poussin s death; and Coy
pel, Jouvenet, and Rigaud, were the produce of the mstitu
tion ; whilst Poussin, Le Sueur, and LeBrun, had flourished
and obtained their reputation before it was founded. Van
Loo and Boucher succeeded Jouvenet and Rigaud, and gave
additional evidence of the utter incompetence ol the aca¬
demic system. About 1770, flourished Greuze, who began
to evince a better taste, and was persecuted by the Ro>a
Academy for his independence, till the Revolution of 1790
put an end for the time to all imposture. Down went the Roy¬
al Academy in an instant; and all the conventional distinc¬
tions in art, which are generally the cloak of jmbecihty, were
fluttered off in the whirlwind. The people, long prevented
from seeing fine works in the great galleries, now broke into
these galleries with brutal exultation. Bloody and dread u
asTere the consequences of the first burst of the French
Revolution, one of its most beneficial effects consisted in
throwing open all matters of art and science to the people.
Naigeon, the conservator of the Luxembourg, said, £ 18J4>
that^nothing was opened to the people before the Revolu-
ton - and we ourselves in England are now enjoying our
Museums, entirely in consequence of the effect produced upon
Mr. Fox and the English, who visited Pans m the year 1802,
and who were astonished at the noble frankness with which
the Louvre was exposed. _ ..
The academy being swallowed up m the whirlpool o po i-
tical revolution, the Institute supplied its place. Napoleon
on becoming first consul, sent immediately for David, who
had been a furious republican during “le te™Ps 4e a J*'
reur a man of great talent, but of abominable taste. Na¬
poleon made him his court-painter, and gave such Prepon¬
derance to his influence, that the detestable style of David
became everywhere but in England the style of European
art. Gros, Prudhom, Guerin, deviated from the rigidity of
David’s style. Prudhom was a man of genius. Hideous as
was the style of David, in fact painted Roman sculpture, it
had some foundation in reason. This was, if possible, to
bring the French back to classical art, after the flutter of
Boucher, and the pomposity of Coypel; but, like all reform-
^The material s^or assisting them are so deficient, that the
greatest artists have arrived at any thing ike ^ ^tatmn
of nature only by the greatest science and skill. It is much
easier to paint abutton and a chair, than ahuman face; there¬
fore the great artists dwelt upon the face with all their dex-
teritv and touched off the button and chair with less an-
xietv’and care. The French used to say, that theirs was
Se lystem of the ancient Greeks, and that it was our pre-
judice to disapprove of it. But before we W done, we
shall show that it was not the system of the "nt Gree ,
and as we pay all due deference to the Italians, Flem b ,
Dutch, Spaniards, and Greeks, and to their own Poussin and
Claude, they have no right to accuse us o preju i
cause we disapprove of David. We do not eny u
talent, because it must have required talent to mislead t
continent of Europe. In art David’s expression was taken
from the theatre, and his actions were borrowed from i
opera house ; his forms were Roman and not Grecian, ant
his colour was hideous enough to produce ophthalmia. I
he and his pictures, with all he ever designed, and all he ever
invented, had not appeared in the world, or having appeared,
had been utterly rooted out of it, the atmosphere would be
purer. He is a plague-spot, a whitened leprosy in painting, Painting,
that haunts the imagination with disgust. This he had the
impudence to say of Rubens. But since the peace, and from
the connection with England, a better school of colour has
sprung up in France ; and La Roche gives evidence of bav¬
in^ in some degree got rid of the furniture look of David,
though it still poisons a French pencil.
Horace Vernet is a distinguished name ; indeed, he may
be called the first light-infantry grenadier of European art.
He paints a head in five minutes, a whole imperial tamily
in ten minutes, and an historical picture in twenty ; and he
paints all three with talent and skill. Though the French
are not yet sound in art, they are the best educated artists
in Europe ; and if the English would combine their own
colour with the careful habits of French early study, and it
each school could supply the deficiencies of the other, they
would make out a very good school between them.
In thus suffering ourselves to be led away to the moder
state of the French school, we have omitted to do justice
to the great men of former times; Poussin, Sebastian, Bour¬
don, and Le Sueur. Poussin is the hero of French art.
His Death of Germanicus is very fine, as a specimen ot His¬
tory ; and his Polyphemus sitting on the top of a mountain,
and playing his pipe, with his back towards you, is a pure
spechnen of the poetic. He studied the ancient Romans so
much, that he became Roman in his faces, drapery, ana
figures; and in his naked forms, the common model is too
apparent. His finest works are in England ; but though dis¬
tinguished for expression, there is always an antique heart¬
lessness, as if copied from the masks of an ancient theatre.
Bourdon’s Return of the Ark is a high proof of his con¬
ception ; and Le Sueur’s St. Bruno is pure in taste, but bad
in colour. The Battles of Alexander by Le Brun show the
latter to have been of the family of machinists. His colour is
bronzed and disagreeable. Le Brun was a court-favourite,
and his Greeks, as well as barbarians, have an air ot the
opera at Versailles. His composition is artificial; and he is
not a fit example for youth. The only man who coloured
with exquisite feelingwas Watteau, whose touch anddehcacy
of tint may be studied with great profit by any artist.
In a word, it is extraordinary that the French as a nation, have
never been right in art. Poussin was the only man who could
have set them right, and they persecuted him so, that he set¬
tled in Rome. Claude Lorraine can hardly belong to them,
and though Louis Philippe employed them by hundreds,
nothing very eminent appears to have proceeded from such
encouragemCans ^ taking higher ground than any other Progress of
nation, and are making rapid advances, part^ularly at Mu-
nich. They have begun again fresco painting ; and the li¬
berality of their king has rendered Munich the most flou¬
rishing city in Europe for arts and artists; but as Canova
said when he was in England, there is very little granJ ^
left in the world. It is extraordinary to reflect on the little
original thinking that is to be found. This was more ap¬
parent in the Louvre than any where else ; and one could
not help being amused at seeing the way in which Rubens,
who, like Michel Angelo, is supposed to have never looked
out of himself, had plundered the old Gothic painters ; the
Fall of the Damned, by an old German, being the complete
basis of the same subject by Rubens. .
When incessant demands are made on the genius ot a
favourite, every aid to thinking is grasped at and ^F0^'
Eaffaelle did this ; so did Rubens ; and even Reynolds used
to have portfolios brought him to look oyer at breakfast, an
select what would help him,saying, “Itwill save me the trou¬
ble of thinking.” This involves averyserious question in art.
The utmost merit that can be allowed is that of skilful adap¬
tation. “ Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit may be said ot
all these; and surely a good thought badly done is justifiab e
food for a superior mind to render it better.
PAIN
Painting. \V e come now to the British School, which, though the
last founded in Europe, is inferior to none in variety of power.
British There is no doubt that the art1 would have advanced in
school. Britain side by side with the continental nations, if we had
continued Catholics ; in fact, we were doing so, when Wick-
liffe’s opposition to the Catholic priests roused up the peo¬
ple to hate and detest every thing connected with their sys¬
tem. Painting of course came under this furious denunci¬
ation, and through successive ages went on till the period
of the Reformation.
Historical 1° Edward the Confessor’s time, there were executed bas-
notices of reliefs as good as any thing done at that time in Europe, and
British art. by no means deficient in grace, though disproportioned, and
unskilful in composition. In one of these there is a king in
bed, and leaning upon his hand; which in an improved style
might be made a fine thing. In Alfred’s reign and before,
York and Canterbury were adorned with pictures and ta¬
pestry ; and in the tenth century, Ethelrida adorned Ely
Cathedral with a series of historical pictures in memory of
her famous husband Birthwood. As this is recorded, says
Strutt, the practice must have existed before ; and that it
continued to exist and be the fashion down to the Edwards
and Henrys, there is good evidence; for in the time of Henry
III. mention is made of the immortal Master Walker’s paint¬
ing in Westminster, the no less renowned John Thornton of
Coventry, painter there, and the east window of York.2 In
the reign of Henry VIII. there was a chartered society of
painters ; and in the seventeenth of Elizabeth it was moved
in the House by Sir G. Moore, “ that a bill to redress cer¬
tain grievances in painting be let sleep, and be referred to
the Lord Mayor, as it concerned a controversy between
painters andplaisterers and Sir Stephen Jones stood up
and desired that the Lord Mayor “ might not be troubled,
and it seemed to go against the painters?
The painters who complained that the plaisterers used their
colours, and took the bread out of their mouths, go on to say,
that in the nineteenth of Edward IV., that is in 1480, there
were orders issued “ for the use of oil and size” and that the
“ painters’ only mixture was of/and size, which the plaisterers
do now usurp and intrude upon.” In their petition they ob¬
serve with the greatest simplicity: “ Workmanship and skill
is the gift of God, and not one in ten proveth a workman,
and that those who cannot attain excellence must live by
the baser part of the science.” They add that “ painting on
cloth is decayed ; that this art is a curious art, and requireth
a good eye, and a stedfast hand, which the infirmity of age de-
cayeth, and then painters go a-begging and then they
conclude the petition to the House by this remarkable pas-
sage. “ These walls thus curiously painted in former ages
the images so perfectly done, do witness our forefather? care
in cherishing this art of painting? “ This bill,” said Sir
TING.
Stephen Jones, “ is very reasonable and fit to pass,” and Painting,
so it did.3 °
The above extract, proves that in Elizabeth’s reign the
historical attempts were alluded to, as belonging to former
ages, viz. from the tenth century downwards; that the House
of Commons praised the wisdom of those times in cherish¬
ing painting ; and that this wisdom the Reformation had ob¬
viously discarded.
In 1538, Henry issued an order against the use of pic¬
tures and statues to impose on the people ; yet pictures are
called “bokes for unlearned people.” In 1542, in his letter
to Cranmer, the king tries to restrain the destruction of pic¬
tures ; but it was too late. In the reign of Edward VI. the Duke
of Somerset fined and imprisoned all those who possessed
pictures of religious subjects. To such excess had the fury
of the people been excited, that the recorder of Salisbury, Mr.
Henry Sherfield, was fined L.500, and imprisoned in the Fleet
for not breaking a painted window in Salisbury Cathedral.
Walpole says that one Bleese was employed at 2s. 6d. a-day
to break windows at Croydon ; and in Charles I.’s reign it
was ordered,4 that all pictures having the second person of
the Trinity should be burnt, and that all pictures having the
Virgin should share the same fate. Cromwell stopped this
barbarity, and it was owing to the self-will of this extraor¬
dinary man that the Cartoons of Raffaelle were bought in
for L.300, at the sale of Charles’s effects.
Thus it is clear the art was stopped by the Reformation.
In St. Stephen’s Chapel, before the alterations made some years
since, there were figures painted on the walls, as excellent
as any figures in the Campo Santo, and perhaps executed
about the same period. In Elizabeth’s reign, as we have
seen, historical art is referred to with sorrow in the House,
as a thing past but which had existed ; and in the same
reign, says Hillier, “ men induced by nature,” to pursue high
art, “ have been made poorer, like the most rare English
drawers of story works? Now, Hillier would not have said
this, if it had not been true that the drawers of story works
were principally natives.
In Henry VII.’s time, Torrigiano, the same youth who had
felled Michel Angelo to the ground in the gardens of Lo¬
renzo and shattered his nose, was in England, and executed
important works. In the time of Henry VIII., commissions
for high art being over, Holbein devoted himself to court
portrait-painting, though in the city he painted some large
pictures. Rubens’ and Vandyke’s visit excited Dobson, a
capital painter of a head; but although Oliver was distin¬
guished as a miniature painter, and although there are de¬
signs at Oxford, by English painters, no one genius seemed
to arise till after Lely and Kneller had succeeded Vandyke.
Cooper was the first English painter employed in foreign
courts as a miniature painter. Thornhill, a man of talent,
in Flnrpnpp in ’t^ seelns ^a.ve h0611 ln an advanced state in England, while it is doubtful whether there was a painter
land -md inn r> r " v-, • , • ^d10111'68 in Florence sent for some Greeks because there was no painter ; yet at that period in Eng-
wpi-p nnintod^ t ’at:°ncal PaintlnS seen[led quite the fashion amongst the upper classes. All the king’s rooms, as well as his chapel,
rvnp+nn fnr " i -H 01 Edward III. in the rolls of the Exchequer, 26th September 1351, there is a charge to “ William of Pad-
vun thp'hp-n'tif vveilty angels to stand in the tabernacles by task-work, at 6s. 8d. for each image, L.6, 13s. 4d.” In 1530, were be-
naintin? TV, U F.Cfures ari<* designs in St. Stephen’s Chapel; and it is curious to see, in all the accounts, the continual allusions to oil-
to assist- tli eairrtS emP'°yed must certainly have been men of distinguished talent, who had the power of ordering inferior artists
his nrinpintdm' • t 16 most celebrated of their number appears to have been Hugh de St. Alban’s, who was appointed by the king as
sheriffs m Pain ef' n0 following document, dated 18th March, 1350, contains his appointment. “ The king to all and singular, the
pointed' our T* d' r/’ 7"cers’ an(* ^’s other lieges, as well within liberties as without, to whom be greeting, Know ye, that we have ap-
Westminsfpr t ^^,an's’ .master °f the painters assigned for the works to be executed in our chapel, at our palace at
it mav sppm’o° V6 aru cJi00se as_many painters and other workmen as may be required for performing those works, in any places where
workmen to J6111’ 6 ,r Wlt]dn liberties or without, in the counties of Kent, Middlesex, Essex, Surrey, and Sussex, and to cause those
command von ml ° 0U1 p„?ce aforesaid. there to remain in our service, at our wages, as long as it may be necessary. And therefore we
Hush mav rpmdJV^c86 and ass1stln£ this Hl,glb and completing what has been stated, as often and in such manner as the said
ward III ArJii f3.1-,1110”’8 West- Pal- P- 170-) The illustrious Hugh seems to have been a designer; for in the books (25 Ed-
2 See Carter’s Etchir^s fo1 0Wins entrv’ “t0 H- de St Albans, ordering or designing the drawings for the painters, one day, Is.”
4 See ^°n80n’s Account of the Acts of Elizabeth, 1632, British Museum.
&ee Journals of the House, 23d July 1645.
A 
PAINTING.
The Aca
demy.
and a member of the House, forms the link between one race
and another; and then sprung up Hogarth, Gainsborough,
Wilson, West, and Barry. As usual, when Reynolds and
Hogarth had for ever rescued Britain from all doubt as to her
genius, without an academy of any description, a royal aca¬
demy was founded to produce more genius, just as had been
done all over Europe; and no man equal to Reynolds and
Hogarth has since appeared. After the academy was found¬
ed at Milan by Leonardo, no genius like his appeared. Alter
that of St. Luke was founded at Rome, Raffaelle and all
being dead, no one came forth. After an academy had been
founded at Parma, Corregio being gone, nobody appeared.
After a national academy was founded at Venice, and roya y
endowed, genius fled. The same thing happened in ber-
rara, Modena, Florence, and Naples ; and also m France,
Spain, and' England. Need further evidence be sought ol
the uselessness of such institutions ? r
In 1711, there existed a school, of which Kneller was the
other eight directors resigned directtv.and the whole twenty- Nmh*
four were made R.A’s. Thus by this limited number were —.
framed the present exclusive law and constitution, and all
the obnoxious regulations passed, which had been checked
by the sense of a constituency ; and thus the art of England
received a blow more fatal than at the Reformation. 1 he
weakness of the nation has been gratified to an excess by
this interested assembly, to the ruin of their taste and judg¬
ment ; high art has gone back, and is going back lurthc
every year, by the struggles of these men to keep up their
monopoly, in defiance of the increasing intelligence of the
people, which they fear, and which will yet be their utter de¬
struction. In this affair Reynolds behaved with great mean¬
ness. He promised to stand by the constituency; yie ded
at the offer of a knighthood; was afterwards justly punished,
by being compelled to resign; and foolishly complained of
ingratitude which he had deserved. . ,
In order that the state of art in Great Britain may be
-i .i • ii i.- ~ nfimnhlpts
pllpr wasthe In order that the state ot art in ““v —
AU   — , . .. Aftpr 1724 rightly understood,this authentic detail, taken from pamphlets
head, whilst Vertue the engraver drew in it. A^r 1724, ^tly^ at the time? especiaily that of Sir Robert Strange,
Sir James Thornhill openedaschool in h‘sow” borne Cove p^ thought necessary; andit will not appear tedious, if
Garden, and so did the Duke of ILchmond at ^hlt,:hab ^ y , consi(iered that, for the sake of the art of our own coun-
Gardens. Sir James proposed to Lord Halifax to fou ^ ^ but • st that particulars should be ascertained. The
royal academy, but without success. At Sir ames > 0f the academy has been pernicious. Imitating the
the school was broken up, and the artists were again e eminent provincial towns have established
without instruction, when, for the purpose of studymg the of schPools . and every year the annual
living model, they hired a room in Greyhound Court, Arun . the metropohg is repeated in the provinces, witn
del Street, andMichael Moses was the conductor of it. ere addition to thatwhichprovedunsaleablein theLon-
they were visited by Hogarth, who was s° ^el p e^ > . d ^ Hogarth opposed such a conclusion, and from the
a union of the whole body took place, and they removed to ^ • "dfcted its effect, which has happened to the very
Peter’s Court, St. Martin’s Lane. The number of membe g _ SP when Re olds began to perceive the truth, he
amounted to a hundred and forty-one, each paying an annual hig error5 and sJid to Sir George Beaumont,
subscription. There was at the time a great deal of happy “ a party was gaining ground which would ruin the
lowship amongst the artists. Reynolds, who was a membe , j ^ IfPthe^etail of every other academy in Europe could
with Hogarth and others, adorned the Foundling Hospital, ' the same intrigues, the same despotism,
and the public were so interested, that the society thoi^ht ^ h injustice, and the same want of principle would be
might venture on a charter, which was obtained, and there J d £ e would n0 ionger wonder
was establishedby lawa government of twenty-four directors at fe Dotto^, d^ced a Raffaeiie.
annually elected, including the president, by the who e b<x y honest and straight forward constituency being thus Reynolds,
and out of it. An united exhibition having begun (the con The honest an<l ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ d d
slant source of irritation, for every mancarmot b^b’^o , henobilit an|the public, and shortly escaped noticealto-
in the best places), squabbles arose; and the directors find g ^ such a man as Hogarth had improved his know-
the benefit of beiig !b.e to hang their own worto and *0^ ^^“Tschools. °The literary splendour with
of their friends in the best situations, intrigued fo P S, nnidc Was surrounded, gave a glory to the Academy
places another year. This was foolishly granted , and every '^Reynolds was^nd d a
subsequent year finding themselves becoming a matchfo arQvind itj ^hich the artists still fancy they see, though it
constituency, they kept their places for eight years, in defia vanishedthe moment he expired. Reynolds was really a great
of law ; so that at last it was found that the men elected to unimpeachable in compo-
preserve order and law, had been the grossest violators of at, g g ^ ^ andghadow> beautiful in character, and
both. With the feelings of independent freemen, the con- ^ ’ rdestP inteSr 0f children and women that ever lived
stituencies resolved to endure this no longer , w , p P ^ k or Italian. His ignorance belonged to the
vent collision, it was agreed to refer the point to the Attor- the frb Uree^^ ^ entirel/his 0wn ; and thoughhe
ney-General, De Grey, both parties pledging themselves to pe d, h b and done injury to taste, by
abide by his decision. De Grey gave it aga^f ^ ^ ^^cere conviction that he was right, yet had he lived to
tors, and these honourable men then refuse P h qqieseus 0r Ilyssus, he would have been equally can-
word. The constituency met, and violently expelled srx^ ^ ^ • he was^ error. Lord Heathfield is a portrait
teen of them ; but before resigning, lese g t|ic tbat need not fear any work of Titian’s for men, and Mrs.
secretly, and fearing exposure, tore out and de Parker, a tender, sweet picture ofa woman, was never equalled
minutes from the 19th November 1764 to the 1 th March or’delicaPy by any work of the Venetian and
1765, and from the 17th of June 1765, to the 21st of Ma scb0ols. Where were children ever so completely
1766. They then went to the king, George III., whom they ^ ^ ^ the Infant Academy ? who surpassed the propriety
persuaded that the chartered body was repub ican, ^ bjg back-grounds as well as their splendour ? His eye,
there was no hope unless a royal academy was oun , rather his organ for colour, was exquisite ; nor is there
the number of members and voters limited to or y. whole of his works a heated and offensive tint. He
king, without inquiry, foolishly yielded to their cunning sug combine essential detail and breadth so beautitully as
gestions, and founded an academy with forty members ; the aid norm    
’ fUa VPqr 1771 bv Dixwell, St. Martin’s Lane, entitled “ On the Conduct
1 See Sir Robert Strange’s pamphlet, and another pubhshe in ) >
of the Royal Academicians,” in the British Museum. pmifirmed bv his pamphlet, “ Concise Vindication,” &c. in British Museum.
2 This was told the author by Sir George ; and has since been j
PAINTING.
79
Painting.
Kugartb.
Gains¬
borough
and Wil¬
son.
I
West,
Titian ; but place one of his finest portraits by the side of
any picture of Titian’s, see them at the proper distance, and
Reynolds would keep his station. Here, however, the praise
must stop. Reynolds could have no more painted Pietro Mar-
tyre than he could have revived the martyr after he was
dead. He was not so great a man as Titian, because he
did not like him remedy his ignorance, when he found it
out at a much earlier age. He was always talking of what
he would do if he began the world again. Sir Joshua loved
society ; he wras the deity of his coterie ; he liked a glass
of wine and a game at whist; and he never lost his temper
because he was successful in the world, but the first time he
was thwarted he got in a passion. Reynolds was a great
genius in painting, but not a great man. He raised English
art from the dust, and gave English artists an aplomb in so¬
ciety which they never had before, and he first reduced the
art to something like system by his discourses ; but not hav¬
ing moral courage to resist the formation of an academy,
which he could have done by his influence and his genius,
lie compromised the art, and wras indirectly the means of
throwing it off its balance, which it will yet take half a cen¬
tury more to remedy, as Hogarth predicted.
As an inventor, Hogarth is by far the greatest of the British
school; although in aim and object, colour, surface, and all
the requisites of a great painter, infinitely below Reynolds.
It would be useless to detail the perfections of a man so ad¬
mired all over the earth, and who will only cease to be a de¬
light with its existence. It is astonishing how hereditary
is the hatred of academies. The painters in revenge for
Hogarth’s opposition, swTore that he was no painter, and swear
so to this hour. The absurdity of this criticism can be prov¬
ed by the Marriage a la Mode, whilst the picture of the hus¬
band and wife after a rout, is as beautifully touched as any in
that class of art can be. He has not the clearness of Teniers,
nor the sharpness of Wilkie ; his touch is blunt, and his co¬
lour deficient in richness ; but you feel not the want whilst
looking at him; and although his expression is often carica¬
ture, yet in the above picture it is perfection. Hogarth un¬
fortunately believedhimselfinfallible ; buthiswretchedbeau-
ty of Drury Lane for Pharaoh’s daughter at the Foundling,
his miserable Sigismunda, and his Paul before Felix, we hope
convinced him of his forte. If he was serious in these pic¬
tures, which we very much doubt, he deserved a strait waist¬
coat and a low diet as the only treatment for his hallucina¬
tion.
Gainsborough was another painter of great genius in
portrait and landscape ; but Wilson was a greater. His touch
and feeling were comprehensive, though too abstracted for
the vulgar, who always like polish and to put up their fingers.
He used to say to Sir George Beaumont, “ When some¬
body is dead somebody’s pictures will sell better.” From
neglect he got into foolish habits of drinking and died
librarian to the academy. A miserable dauber called Lam¬
bert was the fashion, and his character as a landscape pain¬
ter was hit by poor Wilson. He said “ his trees and foliage
were eggs and spinach, and nothing moreyet Lambert
got hundreds when Wilson could hardly get shillings. But
where are now the immortal Lambert’s works ? Making
fire-screens for garrets, whilst “ somebody’s pictures” adorn
the houses of the great. Gainsborough was a great por¬
trait painter and ran Reynolds hard. West’s Wolf and La
Hogue are the triumphs of his talent; but his great sacred
subjects are inferior works. The writer of this observed to
Canova in England, “ Au moins, il compose bien. ” “ Mon¬
sieur,” replied the Italian, “ilne compose pas; il met des figures
en groupe.” He was a skilful machinist; and though there are
bits of colour in his small works, rich and harmonious, his
portraits are detestable, his handling unfeeling, his drawing
meagre and common. He was deeply versed in nothing,
though possessing great acquired knowledge of his art with¬
out being an educated man. With respect to his being the
greatest man since the Caracci. with Rembrandt, Rubens, Painting.
Vandyke, and Dominichino, Guido, and Guercino since, or
a little after, the idea is ridiculous and absurd. The king
hated Reynolds on account of his devotion to Burke and
Fox, and puffed West from sheer irritability. The king said
to Hopner, “ Why does Reynolds paint his trees red and
yellow ? who ever saw trees that colour ?” Hopner, who
said what he pleased, replied, “ Then your majesty never
saw trees in autumn.”
Romney, a second-rate man, had great patronage, whilst Barry.
Barry, a man of great grasp of mind, had none whatever.
Barryjoined the Academy to oblige Reynolds, against his own
convictions; was soon at issue writh its selfish monopoly; op¬
posed it; urged the propriety of devoting a portion of its timds
to establish a school of colour; exasperated the intriguers by
his fearless attacks; and was expelled of course as an ob¬
noxious man, the king having been persuaded to sanction it,
under the deadly hint that Barry was a radical. Barry was
the protege of Burke, and his Adelphi pictures, shewing the
progress of society, though deficient in drawing, colour, and
delicacy of touch, were the first work in England on the
comprehensive principle of the ancients. Having neglect¬
ed Burke’s repeated entreaties to dissect, he suffered the con¬
sequence. His forms at the Adelphi are such as can be got
by general drawings from the antique, but there is no refined
knowledge of construction in them.
As a man of genius, however, Barry is not to be compared Fuseli,
to Henry Fuseli, the friendof Reynolds and Lavater, andone
of the most distinguished and accomplished men of his time.
Fuseli was undoubtedly the greatest genius of that day.
His Milton gallery shewed a range of imagination equal to
the poet’s; his Satan bridging Chaos, his Uriel watching
Satan, his Shepherd’s Dream, his Fairies from Shakespeare,
and his Ghost in Hamlet, announce him as having conceiv¬
ed, like Theon, cpavrao-ias, and as being the greatest inventor
in art since Julio Romano. But in the modes of conveying
his thoughts by form, colour, light, and shadow, and above
all, nature, he was a monster in design; his women are all
strumpets, and his men all banditti, with the action of gal¬
vanized frogs, the dress of mountebanks, and the hue of pes¬
tilential putridity. No man had the power like Fuzeli of
rousing the dormant spirit of youth ; and there issued from
his inspirations a nucleus of painters, who have been the firm¬
est supporters of the British school.
But Fuseli, as a painter, must be a warning to all. Had
he taken the trouble to convey his thoughts like the great
masters, his pictures would have risen as time advanced;
yet as time advances, his pictures, from having no hold on
our feelings like the simplicity of nature, must sink. His
conceptions however poetical, are not enough to satisfy the
mind in an art, the elements of which are laid in lovely
nature ; and great as his genius was in fancy and concep¬
tion, inventor as he was in art of fairies and ghosts, he will
never be an object to imitate, but always to avoid by young
men, who are more likely to lay hold of his defects than his
beauties. The finest conception of a ghost that was ever
painted, was the Ghost in Hamlet on the battlements. There
it quivered with martial stride, pointing to aplace of meeting
with Hamlet; and round its vizored head was a halo of light
that looked sulphureous, and made one feel as if one actu¬
ally smelt hell, burning, cindery, and suffocating. The
dim moon glittered behind; the sea roared in the distance,
as if agitated by the presence of a supernatural spirit; and
the ghost looked at Hamlet, with eyes that glared like the
light in the eyes of a lion, which is savagely growling over
his bloody food. But still it was a German ghost, and not the
ghost of Shakespeare. There was nothing in it to touch
human sympathies combined with the infernal; there was
nothing at all of “ his sable, silvered beard,” or his coun¬
tenance more “ in sorrow than in anger;” it was a fierce,
demoniacal, armed fiend reeking from hell, who had not
80
PAINTING.
OU . r iai;Ar nnd was killed. This ill-fated artist was in every respect Painting.
Painting, yet expiated “ the crimes done in his days ofnature, to qua _ y , fhisfather>
him for heaven. His next finest works were the two airYF * Never were there four men so essentially different as West,
tures in the Shakespeare gallery, some diving into harebels, Flaxman, and Stothard. Fuseli was undoubtedly
somesailing in Bottom’s shoe; but beautiful as they were, ’ f h } st capacity and the most acquiredknow-
deedthe ordy fairies ever painted, still your heart longed for na- en!inent artist in the second rank ;
ture in colour, form, action, and expression. Such an union had Stothard were purer designers than either;
the Greeks, and no art in the world will be per B and Reynoids were before all the others. In Barry s
appears again. These pictures are evidences of tJie hlS Adeiphi there is a grasp of mind, as Johnson said; yet as a
conception of the fanciful and supernaturah ^ His Lazar Adelph^ ^ in{>iorlto an. Though Fuseli had more
House is an evidence of his power of pathos ; his U i fmagination and conception than Reynolds, though West
Satan of the poetical; his Puck putting on a gir , t things tog-ether with more facility, and Flaxman and
humorous and mischievous. But when Fuzeh attemp g thddid ^hat Reynolds could not do ; yet as a sound,
the domestic, as in the illustrations of Cowper, his to^l w^it StotM ^ ^ in which a]1 the others were de-
of nature stares one in the face, like the eye ficient Reynolds must be considered the head of the Bn-
ghosts. Never were the conseqiiences of f dainmg Ae inter and handler of his brush,
daily life before your eyes, or of affecting to be above it, so ^ ^ notPbe omitted, nor Northcote his imitator andQpie,
fatally developed as in this series of design ; though^ com- ^ both 0f them men of talent. Opie, a man of Northcote,
paring with him another eminent artist, name y, S othard, contempo ^ Comwaq t on 0n Wilkie,
who, in sweetness and innocence, was ^decided supe , PNorthcote was six years with Reynolds ; and his
Fuzeli surpassed him in elevation and reach of m - Arthur and Hubert, and Children in the Tower, are fair
pictures of Stothard, who painted equally well without life of his talents. He was a malicious man, and
before him, there is not the same extravaga c , Y P d . . hig greatest protector, Reynolds, and Dr.
is almost equal want ofnature in another way. Flaxman tned J d^ced him by allowing Hazhtt to print
Stothard, and Fuzeli, are the three leg^ima e designer of Conversations. There never was a deeper
our school, and yet not one of them was perfect master for mali;gnant defamation. Northcote always said
^^faxman’s designs from the Hiad and the ^ S TaX"^ " ^ «enj and
are his finest works; and when first they aPPea^d m It. y, th blame to the 0ther. Reynolds was succeeded by
they were denied to be the invention of an Englishman, as s t d th; contammg on y
it was supposed to be impossible that any Englishman could West, and the art sunK .  Q Lnh,a broke forth,
, •  -.Tot nt* cnmo of these desisrns it
Flaxman.
West, and tne art smm tuc
Sir Joshua’s humble imitators, when a genius broke forth,
David Wilkie, who rendered our domestic school, the hr.t
in Europe; and the feeling for art has been rapidly advan¬
cing amongst the people ever since. This many circum-
^Inconsequence of the perpetual complaints fl'ora. *®
Btoihard.
have an imagination. But yet of some of these designs it
really may be said, “ II n’y a qu’un pas du sublime au n-
dicufe.” It is extremely difficult to say whether tliey are
in the highest degree sublime or extremely absurd. In all
attfmpts to express the passions, you will perceive extra¬
vagance; but in comparing him with Cano\a, in t us par o bf)dv of artists, the government giumcu. a   — . -
the art, Canova must yield the palm as much as Flaxman ^ ca^e of the superiority of Fran^^
was inferior in the perfection of working up a sing e a ^ . d ign as well as the condition of high art, and
beautiful figure. Though this eminent man ^Iks pom- ^the gac^sations the Royal Academy
pously of Greek form and anatomical knowledge, he in . Never in the world were the consequences
ality knew very little of either; and though t|ierei®agr^ of a monopoiy on the perceptions of respectable men so
deal of useful matter of fact in his lectures, yet on the w iudicrouslvPdeveloped. The president and body first denied
they display a wretched poverty of thinking. 1 , riebt 0f tbe House of Commons to examine them at all;
of Anatomy for students is not deep enoug on P „n >inri when the persuasions of their friends showed them their
tion of muscle, bone, and tendon, and can help * young m d [! e before the committee presented a scene
a very little way to correct notions. value «f Fu.eh s ^ tten in the history of English, pa nting,
and Opie’s lectures m comparison with Flaxmans or Ba^ ^ esti0ns of finance, they proved satisfactorily the
ry’s is evident; and the superiority o y ’ honour of their transactions ; but on all questions of ait more
cept Fuseli in his lecture on Greek art, needs not t ^ roved against them than ever had been suspected.^
dwelt on. . .. ,, 0n„dl tn nil Theresignationof Reynolds, and the expulsion of Barry; the
stothard, as an inventor m composition, was^equaU Jl, Th of of Joney to the art on the Waterloo mo-
but as a painter, certainly m .* _ , d-d t d nument, in consequence of their not replying to Lord Cas-
not paint; he had no identity of imitation, he did n ^ ^ comnd1ttee . their refusal to let the artists also
could not tell a story by human pa , ts of tbe supp0rt their exhibition, and have the same opportunities of
designshowed great ignorance oft ^ • it th t fitPPg tbeir works for the public as at the British Gallery ;
figure. But there was a be.af ^ fife to and, to crown all, their rendering the school of design lately
breathed on every thing he did. He see ^ ^emain. established of no avail to the mechanic, by establishing a law,
have dreamed of an angel, and P h design- that the study of the figure is not necessaryfor his education,
der of his days in trying to endow every fig g though it was proved that-this study at the Lyons academy
ed, with something of t^e sweetness that he^had ®e®^ for mSechanics, was the real cause of their superiority to us;
sleep. Peace to his mild and tende p minutes are such indisputable evidence against their protestations
possible to be in Stothard’s painting-room „ppm- of sincerity, that it has rendered the nobility and the naL°ri
without being influenced by his angelic mm . suspicious of the truth of all the accusations which
ed to us always as if he had been born in the wrong more than s^ p^
net. He had a son whose etchings from our ana In gcot]and tbe art is in a promising condition, and the Scottish ar
are an honour to the country. He fell from a great he g t, school .n purer tagte than the English. Living as
in pursuing his designs from some tomb in a country c >     
    TX ZXZT^biects of Art and Manufacture are both considered; and no
l See Report on Arts and Manufactures. In this Report the imp
one with any pretensions to taste should be without it. t ti see the appendix to this article.
* Por a continuation of the history of Painting down to the present time,
PAINTING.
Painting, the artists do> in the most magnificent city in Europe, sur-
rounded by a country pregnant with historical recollections,
and guidedbytlieirown shrewd understandings, the school in
Edinburgh will, before many years, take a very high rank
in the art. But there is some cause to apprehend that it will
be checked at its most critical period, from the usual cause,
the foundation of the old curse of Europe, an academy.
After having produced Runciman, Raeburn, Wilkie, and
the other eminent men Scotland can boast of in art, they
have been persuaded to found conventional distinctions,
in favour of a select few; and, as elsewhere, the result will be
the same. No Wilkie, no Runciman, no Raeburn will come
from it; for the best men they now possess were eminent be¬
fore it was thought of. The art has no business with any aris¬
tocracy of talent. Conventional distinctions, which are not
hereditary, are laughable and absurd; and distinctions which
are, ought to be reserved for high descent, heroic actions, land¬
ed property, or vast political genius. Such an aristocracy pro¬
duces heart-burnings and injustice ; for it places power in
the hands of men, who are not amenable to justice for tyran¬
ny, and who cannot be reached by law, for calumny or in¬
sinuation. “ Of all hatreds,” said the Edinburgh Review,
“ there are none to equal the hatreds weak men in power
bear to the man of genius without it.” It is a curious evi¬
dence of the sagacity of the Scotch, that whilst the English
portrait painters, since the death of Reynolds, were all plac¬
ing kings and queens on their toes, from sheer ignorance of
perspective, Raeburn, Wilkie, and Gordon have never made
that mistake.
In a word, it is our decided and unprejudiced conviction,
that the genius of the British people, will never have fair
play or be soundly advanced, till the Royal Academy is
removed, or effectually remodelled; and this will be effected
either by the positive interference of the queen or the go¬
vernment, or by the rapidly increasing knowledge of the
people. Ifthe capital and the provinces were freed from the
predominance of those men ; if the honours were abolished
and the constituencies restored; ifthe whole national galler¬
ies were turned into a great school, with branch schools in the
great towns ; if the Cartoons vrere removed to London for
the occasional sight of the people, as they might be inclin¬
ed to drop in; and if a Native Gallery were arranged for the
best productions to be purchased as they appeared, and
the House of Lords adorned with a series of grand works
referring to the British constitution ; then would the go¬
vernment do a real good to taste, refined pleasures, and design
for manufactures, such as would entitle them to the ever¬
lasting gratitude of the nation.
On the other hand, if all the ancient boroughs of the
land have been obliged to bend to the call for reform; if
the crown itself hasbeen obliged to yield up the oldHouse of
Commons; if the salaries of our great officers of state have
been cut down without complaint; if pensions bestowed
equally for merit or for vice, are to be rigorously sifted ; if
the queen herself has been obliged to permit her expendi¬
ture to be questioned ; are a set of men without a lease of
their House, or charter for their existence, without any one
legal claim to be considered as a constitutional body—are
they alone to brave the Commons and the Lords, are they
alone to defy and deny reformation, taking their stand upon
their utter insignificance ? If so, it will be an anomaly in
the character of the British Legislature, which, in after times,
will .only be remembered as a proof of imbecility and folly,
if not of something still worse than either.
General We have now gone through the great leading schools of
eductions. Italy, France, Germany, Flanders, Holland, Spain, and Bri¬
tain, and we have taken those names only, which may be
considered as leading an epoch ; so that, in such a system,
many eminent men must of necessity have been omitted.
rom the Petersburg, Copenhagen, Berlin, or Stockholm aca¬
demies, no great genius except Thor waldsen has yet appeared.
VOL. XVII.
81
Was Italian art equal to Greek art? Certainly not. In Painting,
the finest Italian there is a want of beauty in form and face,v,^V^^
which Greek art could only supply. Poussin said, that Raf-
faelle was an angel in comparison with the moderns, but in
comparison with the ancients he was an ass. Though this is
vulgar, it is in our opinion true. The ancients combined
the Venetian and Roman schools; they considered form,
colour, light and shadow, surface, expression, and execu¬
tion's allequally component parts of imitation, and all neces¬
sary to perfect that imitation which was to be employed as an
instrument to convey thought. They combined the draw¬
ing and the colouring of the two great Italian schools; as
these illustrious schools tried to do when they found out
their error, in pursuing one at the expense of the other.
Reynolds, from the defective practice of each school, laid
it down that colour was incompatible with high art; and he
also laid it down that the ancients could not be great paint¬
ers in a whole, though they might be in a solo, from the pic¬
tures on the walls of Pompeii. We do not wonder at any
man so concluding before the Elgin marbles arrived ; but
we do marvel at Reynolds taking the works in the private
roomsofaprovincialRoman city asjustifiable grounds on which
to estimate the extent of genius in Greek art at its finest
period, five hundred years before. But after all, what are the
pictures of Pompeii ? Very probably the designs in Pom¬
peii would rank about as high in ancient art, as the designs of
our paper-stainers in Bond Street would in British art.
The pictures at Pompeii are no more criteria of what the
art of Apelles and Polygnotus really was, than any sculpture
dug up there would be a criterion of what the art of Phi¬
dias was. Reynolds undervalues contemporary praise ; but
Quintilian, Cicero, Horace, Juvenal, Strabo, Polybius, and
Pausanias, Valerius Maximus, iEiian, and Pliny, were not
contemporary ; and, therefore, the praises of Aristotle or of
Plato who were, justify the enthusiasm of those who were
not.
Since the works of Phidias arrived in England, we have
positive evidence that the Greeks knew the great principles
of composition and grouping, as applied to painting; because
the metopes are instances of arrangement of line, that will
do exactly in a picture, if the Laocoon had not shown it be¬
fore. Having now seen the Elgin marbles, which the Greeks
estimated as their finest work, and having found all the enthu¬
siasm of the ancients more than borne out, have we not a jus¬
tifiable ground to argue from what we do see in one art,
that what we do not see in another was equally excellent ?
Will any man, after seeing the Theseus and Ilyssus, doubt
that the ivory Minerva and Olympian Jupiter were equally,
if not more beautiful ? Why should the ancient critics have
faith placed in all their decisions except those on painting ?
Why should they lose their perspicacity of understanding
only when they talked of this art? After Aristotle and
Plato had admired the Minerva inside the Parthenon and
the sculpture outside, they might admire the pictures ; and
nobody will deny them the power of making comparisons.
Had the Elgin marbles and the old antique never been seen,
would not the same sophistry have been put forth to question
the merit of their sculpture as well as to deny that of their
painting ? “ Nothing can be more perfect than Phidias,”
says Cicero. “You cannot praise him enough,” exclaims Pliny.
“ He made gods better than men,” says Quintilian. “ He
was skilful in beauty,” says Plato. You believe all this,
because you cannot contradict it; but the moment Quin¬
tilian says, “ Zeuxis discovered light and shade ; Parrhasius
was exquisite for subtlety of line ; Apelles for grace ; Theon
for poetical conceptions ((pavrao-ias); Pamphilus for ma¬
thematical principle ; Polygnotus for simplicity of epic ar¬
rangement in colour and form; Protogenes for finish —when
Pliny commends Aristides for expression, and Amphion for
composition, and speaks of the grand assemblage of the gods
by Zeuxis, as well as the single figures of Apeiles, Reynolds
L
82
Painting.
PAINTING
replies, “ Admiration often proceeds from ignorance of higher
’ excellence, I willnot believe contemporaneous praise. We
answer, that admiration oftener proceeds from knowledge
of superior excellence; that the most enthusiastic admir¬
ers of Greek painting were not contemporary; and that
Reynolds’ conclusions against Greek art are founded upon
data which are altogether erroneous.
Taking the Elgin marbles as a standard, we cannot but
suppose that the finest great works of Greek art had t ie
finest drawing, the most wonderful knowledge of form, the
finest grouping, and the finest expression. To tftis may
be added, colour from Pliny, light and shadow from CAum
n TT"’a. nrno*. nWPiLini
snective to a much greater extent than, in consequence of Painting,
some bad landscape discovered in Herculaneum has been
supposed ”* That they foreshortened is clear, from rimy s
description of a bull coming out of a picture frontways.
The inferences to be drawn from all this, are, first, from
Plutarch and Horace, that the Greeks had execution like
Titian and Vandyke ; secondly, from Pliny, that they mus
have had fine colour (lib. xxxv.) ; thirdly, from Quintilian,
that the principles of light and shadow were understood (lib.
xii 'f • fourthly, from Vitruvius (lib.vn.), that they had suffi¬
cient perspective to make objects recede and advance; and
fifthly from the Elgin marbles, executed by and in the school
_ v ’ , ° L +V.O+ Viarl pvnrpssmn.
be added, colour from Pliny, light and shadow from Quin- Weston,
tilian; perspective from Vitruvnis; fore-shortening, dvv e i g ^ ’composition. If the three most important can be
on the leading points, like Vandyke, and touching o ’-T tiieJ can and colour, light and shadow, and exe-
inferior parts from Plutarch; and, what was never suspect- F^^ore than Stored; what right has aneminentEn-
ed, execution with the brush from Horace, on the leading cu ’ . grossly deficient as a painter of high
principles of the Venetians. The French used to affirm, g^h Portralt could not be great in extensive com-
that David’s principle was the same as that of the Greeks, art, to asse ’ they ’nted walls of a provincial city gave
namely, obtruding on the attention all the superior pwts, an P®S1 ^ of such excellence in their private houses ? for-
neglecting the inferior ones. In Plutarch s life of Alexan no e executed fivehundred years after the
der, at the very beginning, lie desfrI'>esIras of Greek perfection, when Greece was a Roman pro-
plan of writing his ^ ^Xwho when he! cities had been sacked, and her art was talk-
dwell^oiTthtf face, SgSe alou, Z remLing parts ”' ed of as a wonder that had passed away.
His meaning is, that he would, like painters, dwe upon e i iple laid down for high art has been, that the Conclusion
leading points in the history of great men and hghtly touch Ihe principle a 5 and that
off tKferior parts. Could he have made such an aftusion a^e-^ ; whereaSj the true
for the general reader, if this had not been the practice o 1 nc that both styl J address the mind through
the great Greek painters ? Again, Hoiace says Ppp but J different ways ; the lower walk making the
of poetry,
Ut pictura poesis erit; quae si propius stes,
Te capiat magis ; quaedam si longius abstes.
That is, some pictures are painted for a close, others for a
distant inspection. The former, of course, are wrought up;
but in the latter, the leading points are seized by a touch,
_ . > ’1 Ao tn mprp bandlintr of
?rCeye, but in different ways; the lower walk making the
imitation of the actual substance the great object of plea-
sure only; and the higher walk making imitation the means
of conveying a beautiful thought, a fine expression, or a
grand form with greater power. The imitation though more
abstracted must not be less real or effective. Sir Joshua
Reynolds affirmed, that the look of truth which fine colour,
J , 1 /UcH.ar.toft thp pve from
the atmosphere to unfte.
noldshasquotedPliny’s description ofglazmg,that is, spreadmg ^ a motLon, and the sublimity of a
a thin transparent tint over the crude colours to > g conception, will be increased in proportion to the look of
into harmony, which was the practice o ^ ‘ reau^j in the objects; and the practice of all the great
Another passage completes the conviction . AJeetus e 7 .terSj Jnd of Raffaelle and Titian in their latter
splendor, alius hie quam lumen, quern quia inter 1 oc P Transfiguration, and Pietro Martyre), proves
vimbram esset, appellaverunt tonon” (Lib. xxxv. c. 5.) works (tne ira g    YpI Rev-
T  ~ H ✓'./-l omlDW flnv* fllftpTP]
umbram esset, appenavciunb v—.
“ Now was added splendor, a different thing from light, an
which splendor, because it was between light and dark,
was called toner To the mind of an artist this is exquisite
in distinction; first, the colours on the tablet were fresh,
unmixed, and raw; then was spread over a transparent gla t
to take off the crudeness ; then this crudeness being reduced,
  fWn. hut. different
that they had come to the same conclusions. Yet Rey¬
nolds, with his usual sagacious policy, appears to waver lest
he should be wrong. “ There is no reason, says he, why
the great painters might not have availed themselves with
caution and selection of many excellencies in the Venetian,
Flemish, and Dutch schools ; there are some not in con-
unmixeci, anu raw , men j . t i Plomi^Ii and JJutcn scnoois 5 inert; ait; ouinc nnt/ m
to take off the crudeness ; then this crudeness being re ’ tradirtio’n t0 any style, a happy disposition of light and shade,
it was called splendor, glowing, rich, and deep, breadth in masses of colour, the union of these with their
2.x and white : and this splendor tne Dreaoui in    nf hm
LTS which is cold and white ; and this splendor the
Greeks called tone, as both the Venetians and the Brmh
denominate it. But the circumstance of tone being the cha
racteristic of any school, is proof of an age for colour.
As to their perspective, let any man consult Vitruvius,
(lib vii.j. Agatharcus composed a treatise on the subject,
andfrom this hint, Democritus and Anaxa^raS,r?tea°Dn^
snective explaining in what manner we should, in appea
ances^agreeable ^nature, from a emtoo/nomt make the
lines to correspond with the eye and *e irec , f
breadth in masses of colour, the union of these with their
grounds, and the harmony arising from a due mixture of hot
and cold tints, with many other excellencies which would
surely not counteract the grand style.” And then he con¬
cludes that “ a subdued attention to these excellencies must
be added to complete a perfect painter.” This is all that
is contended for. So far from these excellencies being in¬
compatible with grandeur of style, they are essential to it, they
are the elements and the basis of it, they cannot be left out,
or if they are, the style is deficient, absurd, and not founded
lines to correspond with the eye anu me uuce^*. - natur^ Tbere js not the least doubt that the Greek
visual rays, and render the scene a true representation g considered the power of imitating natural objects
buildings, that those objects which are drawn on a perpe i ^ u bt and shadoWj as necessary and requisite
dicular plane, may appear some retiring from the eye, :n preparatory study as drawing or composition ; and the
some advancing towards it. From a passage m t a , 0.riatest painters in the grand style in ancient Greece, were
clear, that the Greeks carried the illusions of theatrical per- greatest painie a 
r avdkauBavovciv, eXavisra ran' \outu>v pepoiv (ppovTi^ovrts.
1    a>(T7rep ohv 61 fcoypa^oi ras opoLOTTjras ano tov TTpo , AAESIANAP02.
* Theatre of the Greeks, p. 262, 3d edition, Cambridge-
PAINTING.
I Painting, just as capable of imitating still life as the possessors of it
83
It may, therefore, be fairly deduced, that the Greeks
possessed all parts of the art, and none particularly to the
exclusion of others; that, therefore, all parts of the art, in
due subordination, may be considered as essential to an
artist of the highest walk, as also in the more humble
department; and that the system of Reynolds, which
excludes identity and power of reality from judicious imita¬
tion of the objects painted, combining colour and light
and shadow, as well as expression and form, is false, and
should be exploded from all systems where art is considered
as a matter of importance to the dignity or glory of a
nation. (b. r. h.)
iupple-
nental re¬
narks.
Since the foregoing article was written not more than
twelve years have passed, but in that short space the art of
painting has undergone such changes in theory and prac¬
tice that many opinions then unhesitatingly proclaimed, and
received without a doubt, if propounded now, would be
thought ridiculous; for, while it may be confidently
stated as an admitted fact, that modern art in this country
is at present much more generally appreciated, and receives
far higher encouragement than it ever did at any former
time, it is equally true that this favourable state of matters
has arisen under a system founded on principles in many re¬
spects directly opposed to those that not many years ago
were generally laid down as indisputable. In place, then,
of altering the foregoing article by striking out or modify¬
ing such statements as were based on notions formerly
held regarding art, but which are now untenable accord¬
ing to those now entertained, it has been thought a pre¬
ferable course to endeavour to point out some of these
changes, and to show how they have operated; and so, to
some extent, the soundness of the opinions given in the first
portion of this article will be tested by an examination of the
practical results of the art of painting at the present day.
Within these few years several questions that agitated
the British school from its commencement have received a
trial, and to a considerable extent may be considered as
settled. Art, therefore, having greater freedom of action,
has assimilated itself more to natural tastes, and opened re¬
sources of pleasure and enjoyment that at one time, from
notions now deemed false and pedantic, were not thought
to be within its proper province. The invention and rapid
development of photography within this period has also
operated powerfully in the settlement of these questions.
The following were the chief points so long and so ve¬
hemently put forward:—-1. It was maintained that art
would never reach a high position in this country till it was
patronized by the church and the state; that our art was
crushed by the Reformation ; that pictures were excluded
from churches by bigotry and ignorance, for as they tended
greatly to excite devotional feeling, they might be benefi-
cially employed in religious services; that the old masters
of Italy, Germany, and Spain were always engaged on
Scripture subjects; and that the British school of art
never would rival or approach the schools these great
painters founded till its artists received similar employment.
2. It was pointed out that little or nothing was done pub¬
licly for the encouragement of art; and it was said that
ie only way in which this could be carried out was by
government ordering the execution of large works illus¬
trating the history of the country, such works to be placed
'Iifa,ac]es national buildings, to which access should be
o 01 ,e t0 the public. 3. Fine-art academies, of which the
oya cademy is the exemplar, were strongly condemned.
? opponents of academies declaimed loudly against
in tli °, 168 a^ln§ and receiving grants from government
e s ape of money or accommodation for their schools
and exhibitions. “ Are they not,” they said, “ close corpo- Painting,
rations for accumulating funds with which they pension aged ^ v-» ^
members or the families of deceased members ? while
in their exhibitions they appropriate the chief places, favour¬
ably to display their own works, and give only inferior situa¬
tions to the works of artists who have not had the good
fortune to have been elected into their body. Academies
and exhibitions ought to be put down.”
As before stated, all these questions may now be con¬
sidered as in a great measure set at rest. At the present
day paintings for churches used by Protestants are rarely
commissioned; and though the decoration of churches en¬
grosses much attention, painting, except in the limited and
conventional mode as applied to glass for windows, is never
resorted to; the unsatisfactory result of the efforts lately
made by government to encourage art by competitions for
frescoes and historical paintings has set at rest the point of
government patronage of art; and academies and exhibitions
never were so popular and flourishing as they are at present.
Glancing hurriedly over the pages of the history of the Govern-
British school from its commencement, one cannot fail to merit pa-
notice how much the founders deemed it an almost in- ^onage of
controvertible principle, that encouragement of art by the hlgh art'
church or by government was necessary for the growth
of a national school in Britain. Sir Joshua Reynolds spent
much valuable time in inculcating this principle and in try¬
ing to prove it practically. Barry devoted his whole life to
what has been styled high art; and from his time till
within a few years of the present period, this has formed
the theme of numerous writers on art, and has guided
the practice of various British artists, the chief among
whom were Benjamin West, Stothard, Hilton, and Haydon.
The last of these saw accorded in some measure what
they, and he himself, the most eloquent and energetic of
them all, had so long contended for,—namely, a trial (with
reference to the Houses of Parliament) given by the
government to their cherished notions, that church or
state employment was the only true patronage for art;
and he, the only remaining representative of these opinions,
was at last borne down by bitter disappointment at finding
that the benefits to art so long and so confidently predicted
were not realised by that trial.
It is manifest that the result of this trial has been bene¬
ficial to art. The slavish adherence to rules and precedents
founded on what has been done in former ages, without
consideration of the important fact, that the wants and tbe
enjoyments of the people of these past ages were very dif¬
ferent from those of the public now, has been abandoned ;
and art now flows for the use of the public in its natural
course, unobstructed by those impediments to the vigour
and originality of a national school.
No doubt it was natural that at the foundation of a new
school the rules and precedents of celebrated schools in
former times should be greatly relied on ; childhood re¬
quires support, and youth needs guidance and restraint. And
this accounts for what is often noted as extraordinary con-
ductonthepart of Reynolds,—namely, his having constantly
impressed on artists tbe necessity of attending to the rules
of the old painters, and having held up the style of the
Caracci, and of Ludovico in particular, as a safe model for the
artist to study. He formed this notion from the considera¬
tion that the style of the Caracci was based on rules and
precedents ; and therefore he reckoned their works as well
fitted to exemplify what he reverenced. It has been most
unjustly alleged that Sir Joshua strongly urged his brother
artists and his pupils to follow out historical painting on a
grand scale, or on what were called high-art principles, not
from his having any faith in those notions himself, but from
the unworthy motive of diverting their attention from the
field of portrait-painting, where he gathered riches and
84
PAINTING.
Painting, fame. This is absurd; he is entitled to full credit for the
sincerity of his opinions. As a member ot a school at that
time in Us infancy, when lecturing and theorizing on art, he
was to a great extent trammelled by being obliged to refer
to the maxims and examples of ancient schoo s; for it was
by reference to the works produced in them that he was to
direct theoretically the members and pupils of the using
sdiool. In this respect he was not able, or had not confi¬
dence enough, to go much beyond the opinions of his day.
And we cannot doubt his sincerity; because he misspent
much valuable time in trying to put these very theories into
practice in the form of large historical compositions and alle¬
gorical figures,—for example, those executed for the windows
of New College, Oxford and he freely offered still fu thei
to waste his talents, and paint a Scripture subject to be placed
in St Paul’s. As a writer or lecturer on art, Sn Joshua was
no doubt the first in his time ; but his theories were just the
theories adopted generally by the world at that F («’
clearly and elegantly given forth, and mixed here and there
with such opinions bearing on the practice of ar as on y an
able artist could enunciate. But it was by his pictures
that lie gained a name for himself, and contributed so greatly
to the fkiry of the English school. The opinions in his
time Inclined to a certain style of art as alone worthy of no¬
tice ; he was carried along by these notions to the extent,
not only of theorizing on them, but of wastmg time m pm -
Using them ; but his genius, as it were, in spite of himselt,
carried him beyond what, walking by rule and measure, he
thought the proper line, and he executed works winch,
though then little esteemed in comparison with what were
called his historical compositions, are those on which I s
fame now chiefly rests. What the public now prize ai e Ins
portraits —admirable embodiments of distinguished men and
Tovely women,-and his simple and natural representations
of the freshness and purity of chddhood. His labonous
efforts to emulate the Caracci in depicting the Death ol
Dido” or the “ Continence of Scipio,” attract but hu e
sympathy now; and, as property, would be valued far lowei
thanPhis portraits of Lord Heathfield or Nelly O Br.en, 01
his “ Gi/with a Mousetrap,” “ Strawberry Girl, or Shep¬
herd Boy.” It is recorded that the former works cost him
many months of toil and trouble ; that the latter were hit
off with little effort. The same rules that hampered bu
could not restrain the genius of Reynolds, operated how¬
ever very differently on men like Barry and otheis, who
were gifted with considerable talent, but not genius to give
tffmm courage to step out of what they looked on as the circle
of "tablished art. Barry was arc^nt and hadlugh asp,
rations and much determination and se f-will. H.s friends,
and he himself, mistook these for the elernents of ^reat^p
th^mo^t Vaivourabfe wrw,1”must be pronounced to
executed in'* countries ^^fmmier^ perimls bV^ainters who
lions are chiefly to be 'distinguished by qu»l‘»es
not cared for, and elicited no sympathy th* ^
public in Barry’s time. T he dilettanti a,ld of
art of the period vehemently maintained ^ , s j^ol
working as the old masters worked ; and the „ j* ’
being then but recently instituted, and most of the art,sU,
of the time having been indoctrinated with ie ,
could not at once cast them off. Indeed, men like 1 - .
and Gainsborough, and even Hogarth, with all u& o ^
ality, could not entirely free themselves from such m uen , >
but their genius eventually, by the works they ex ecu e ,
carried them beyond every such bias. Since then e
English school has been getting gradually out of tne»
trammels, and assimilating itself more and more to t ie
tastes and feelings of the times. Wilkie, Turner, Raeburn,
Bonington, Constable, Etty, and many others and their Painting,
successors, the artists of our own time, are producing, and
have produced, works of such importance that the artists of
the British school, in place of looking on the works of the
old masters as unapproachable examples, can shovv works,
some rivalling those of the old masters in many of their best
qualities, and others executed in successful opposition to rules
and principles formerly considered as beyond dispute.
It is remarked in Cunninghams Lives of the British
Painters, that Reynolds “ had amassed a fortune, and ob¬
tained high fame in abiding by the lucrative branch of the
profession, whilst he (Barry) had perched upon the un¬
productive bough of historical composition and had not
been rewarded with bread” But it is needless to occupy
more time in showing that Reynolds, when he talked
learnedly on high art, did so honestly and sincerely, from
convictions formed in his mind by education and imbibing
the opinions of those with whom he came in contact, and not
for the purpose of leading Barry away from that road a on
which he himself was impelled by his genius, m spite o
all conventional theories. What had he to fear ,n compe¬
tition with Barry ? In his own proper walk he ranks with
the greatest artists the world has produced. Among t le
chefs cfouvre in the Manchester Exhibition by Titian,
Rubens, Vandyck, and Velasquez, were there any superior
to Sir Joshua’s “ Nelly 0‘Bnen ?” In h»s day pool Barry,
perched on his “unproductive bough, doubtless looked
down with great contempt on such works as Sir Joshua s
“ Nelly O’Brien” or “ Robinetta,” and consoled himselt
with the reflection, that posterity would do j^tice to his
claims, and confirm the plaudits of the scanty knot of dilet¬
tanti admirers who gazed up at him. And all the paintei s
since Barry’s time who have perched on the same bong i
have experienced similar treatment, varied merely m de-
ffree. West had a larger number of admirers than Bany*
Lon., these was George IV., who commissioned him
to execute various works; and the artist acquired con¬
siderable riches and a certain temporary populan y, but
this barely lasted his lifetime. His works are held in htlle
estimation now. Some of Fuseli's fanciful compositions,
when transmitted through the medium of engraving at¬
tracted for a time a degree of notoriety. Stothard s fame
will rest entirely on his designs and small compositions
Etty can scarcely be classed among those who maintained
the claims of high art; his fame rests on other grounds,
namelv, his having most powerfully aided in increasing t e
strength of the English school in an art element that has
always entered largely into it; and his works now rank with
those of the greatest colourists. Haydon may tuily be
considered the man who, by his paintings and especially
by his writings and lectures on art, made the chief elicits
to uphold those notions as to art, and government patron¬
age of art, which led to the trial and settlement of the ques¬
tion. There can be no doubt that his energetic appeals
had great influence. The extraordinary facilities afforded
bv the erection of so vast and magnificent a pile as W est-
minster Palace and the Houses of Parliament were taken
advantage of by government, and a fair trial was given to
the artists of the country. But though there was no lack
of talent displayed, the results have not justified expecta¬
tions It is now seen that all that government will do, or
can ever be reasonably expected to do, must weigh as no¬
thin^ in comparison with the encouragement annually
CTiven bv the public, which is patronage of the healthiest
kind, and rapidly increasing year by year; that painting
on walls does not suit the style of the buildings in this
country, being often at variance with those notions ot
comfort and convenience which prevail in our arrange¬
ments; that fresco-paintings encounter great risk of damage,
from their surface affording so slight a resistance to any¬
thing coming it contact with it—those on the walls of the
PAINTING.
85
Painting, arcades of the public gardens at Munich, for instance, re-
v ^ quire so often to be patched up with tempera colours,
that, though only executed about twenty years ago, they
can scarcely be called fresco-paintings now. Besides,
paintings are objects which bear great value ; and in a
mercantile community like ours, when money is invested
in that way, facilities for disposing of such property are ne¬
cessary. Few would think of laying out ten or twenty
thousand pounds on pictures attached immoveably to the
walls of a mansion, while many invest such sums in pictures
that are portable; and these investments are often very
profitable, while the capital employed may speedily be real¬
ized by sale or transfer. The chief arguments in favour
of large pictures fbr public buildings were drawn from the
example of foreign states, particularly France. But public
taste in this country does not run in a channel similar to
that in which it flows in France. With us art is to a great
extent domesticated; in France it is government, on whom
the people rely for many of their enjoyments, that has
generally made use of its services. But now, even in France
private employment is preferred by the principal artists to
government patronage ; they find that they are better remu¬
nerated by private purchasers or by publishers than by go¬
vernment. Artists like Vernet, Scheffer, Delacroix, and
others, now see that their works of moderate size are eagerly
sought after; and it is a great loss to them, not only in
money, but in fame, to engage on large government works.
Although great numbers go to look at their pictures in
public buildings, those executed for private individuals are
seen by many more, for they are exhibited all over the world.
That the remuneration is greater for pictures of moderate
dimensions is proved every day : for example, at the sale of
the Duchess of Orleans’ collection of modern works of art,
a cabinet picture by Delaroche, about feet by 2 feet,
brought L.2300,— more than double the sum paid to him
for two years’ labour on cartoons for pictures for the church
of the Madeline. Government patronage, too, often in¬
volves elements distasteful to a high-minded man con¬
scious of the position his talents entitle him to. For in¬
stance, when Delaroche was labouring in Rome at his
cartoons for the Madeline, by court influence another
painter was associated with him in painting this church,
although there had been an understanding that the whole
work was confided to Deiaroche. Indignant at such treat¬
ment, he threw up the commission, and returned the money
that had been advanced to him when he was engaged on
the cartoons. Thus was the labour of two years of a man
of high talent entirely lost. In that time he might have
executed several works of great importance, which, exhibited
in various countries, and circulated by engraving, would
have yielded him money and reputation, besides spreading
the taste for art. Even in France it seems likely that art
will soon rely very little on government support.
The notions of Haydon and others, that the future of art
in England depends on government employment for artists,
and that if pictures are painted for private patrons only,
they will sink to the level of mere decoration, will be as¬
sented to when it is admitted that no artist can be a great
painter who does not paint subjects from Scripture, heathen
mythology, or Greek and Roman history—the figures either
nude or in conventional drapery, and at least 7 feet in height;
and that the only competent tribunal for deciding on works
of art is a committee, the members of which are selected on
account of their rank, official status, or reputed dilettantism.
Academies ^ cry against academies, and against exhibitions, which
and exhi- are the chief features and supports of academies, has, of
bitions. course, in a great measure gone down with the one that
was simultaneously raised.—namely, government patronage
and high art. Can anything better be devised than the open
arena of an exhibition, on which every artist competes be¬
fore, and is judged by, the public ? No doubt, it may be
said, this would be all very well if every one had the Painting,
same chance; but some works are hung where they are
seen to great advantage, while others are so placed that
they cannot be fairly appreciated. But really, is there any
human institution that is perfect? Every work cannot be put
in an equally good place, and some sort of classification is
necessary. Of course, the best works should have the best
places; but difference of opinion may arise here. The
works of artists who have attained a reputation will natu¬
rally first be attended to; that is but fair. These artists,
in their early days, were obliged to struggle for their posi¬
tion. But is it not evident, that, to the rising artist the
opportunity of having his works in a public exhibition is
an advantage of the highest kind; while to the more ad¬
vanced artist it must operate as a spur to continued exer¬
tion. If the works of the former evince improvement, they
will gradually make way ; if those of the latter become less
attractive, they must give place. In exhibitions public opi¬
nion is a ruling element. In one of his lectures Haydon
gave a graphic account of a meeting in Wilkie’s apartment on
the morning of the day on which the exhibition of the Royal
Academy was opened. On the previous day, at the private
view, Wilkie’s picture of the “ Village Politicians” had been
very much noticed; large offers were made for it; and a
most favourable criticism had appeared in the newspapers.
Haydon had seen the criticism, and had rushed to Wilkie’s
to inform him of his success. The road to fame and for¬
tune was now opened to the hitherto unknown artist; and
how? By means of the exhibition. Wilkie’s picture had
been commissioned by a noble patron ; when nearly finished,
it had been shown to this patron, but he had demurred
to the price. If there had been no exhibition to which
Wilkie could send his picture, he probably would have
been obliged to have lowered his price; at all events, he
would only have been paid grudgingly the very low sum
he asked ; and though he had been fully commissioned to go
on continually at similar prices, he would barely have made
enough to maintain himself in the small lodging he then
occupied. But by the exhibition he was enabled to bring
his productions before the public, contrasted with the works
of established artists who were handsomely remunerated
for their pictures; and by this comparison the high quali¬
ties of Wilkie’s picture were fairly estimated, and a much
higher value put on and offered for it than he had ven¬
tured even to think of. In opposition to all Haydon’s objec¬
tions to academies and exhibitions, could any argument
stronger be brought forward than the simple narrative of
the above anecdote ? In truth, it is by our annual exhibitions
of modern works that art is maintained in force in this
country; for they are in every way calculated to lead to
the best of all results—originality, variety, and adaptation
to the feelings and requirements of the age.
But though it cannot be denied that art is in a prosperous
condition, and that this state of matters has arisen just at a
time when public exhibitions and academies are more en¬
couraged than they ever were; yet by some people academies
and exhibitions of modern art are opposed and decried. It is
not very likely that these institutions will be at all damaged
by such assaults; they will probably be benefited by them.
Their strength and importance will thus be made still more
evident; and by those who conduct them reforms and im¬
provements will be adopted to make assurance doubly sure.
Haydon, and objectors of his class and time, denounced aca¬
demies and exhibitions because they interfered with their
favourite plan of government patronage ; but when it came to
be seen that government commissions were as nothing com¬
pared with what was expended on art by the public, these
objections fell to the ground. They also opposed the Royal
Academy for reasons of a personal kind. They felt sore
that they were not elected members of that body. No
doubt Haydon, John Martin, and some others of that time,
y
86
PAINTING.
CognoS'
cend.
Painting, possessed higher qualities as artists than many who shared
' the honours and privileges of academicians, yet, on le
other hand, there were many other members ot the Aca¬
demy, who, as artists, ranked much above Haydon and
Martin, who submitted to the ordeal ot election, and did
not get up a feeling of indignation because they were
not elected on their first application. It is scarcely to be
expected that the academicians, who are the electors, are
never to err in their judgment. Judges and juries some¬
times err ; but, with all its drawbacks, to this mode ot elec¬
tion most of the greatest artists of this country have sub¬
mitted. No better mode has yet been devised,-—at least
none better has been successfully practised; at all events,
it is a preferable mode to that of allowing a competitor to
be the judge of his own claim, which, m plain words, is just
what the objectors demanded.
Objections now-a-days are raised chiefly by cognoscenti,
namely, such as consider themselves, by education and taste,
better qualified than artists to decide on art, and all matters
that bear on it; but the flimsy attacks of such can cause but
slight annoyance. The elements necessary to give a tit e
to be classed as an art-connoisseur in the days ot good old
Sir George Beaumont seem to have been various and im¬
portant. He painted landscapes, he had formed a collec¬
tion of ancient pictures, and he commissioned modern
works. But now-a-days the title of connoisseur is assumed
on very slight qualifications. There are few amateur
nainters now. The uselessness of such an occupation is
demonstrated by photography, for since that discovery,
no sketchy or conventional mode will be tolerated as a repre-
"entation of nature. If a man is to pamt, he must devote
his life to it. An hour snatched from business or pleasure for
such a purpose is just so much time thrown away. Hence
many who have that sort of liking for art that impels them
to dabble in it,—pushed aside by the photographer, have no
vent for their tastes and feelings but in criticising artists anc
telling them how to paint. And as a glance at some of the
continental collections, and a few months residence m Rome,
are thought undoubted qualifications, this class of connois¬
seurs is large, and supplies most of the objectors to modern
art and modern exhibitions. Again, touching the title to
connoisseurship on the ground of possessing a collection ot
ancient pictures, the acquisition of genuine woiks of cele¬
brated painters of former schools is within the reach of ,
When such occur for sale, they are purchased for public
galleries, and nations compete for them. A exceedmg
L.20,000 was lately given for one specimen of Mur
the Louvre, and more than L.13,000 for a work by Vero¬
nese (a purchase that has received the full approval of the
public) for the National Gallery of London. 1 he ridiculous
notion that possesses some people of a chance of puichasing
at sales Correggios, Rubenses, &c., of marvellous value, at
marvellously small prices,-in truth, a species of gambling,
^-Ts fast going out; and the facility with which picture-
dealers can supply the most extensive demands for work*
of the old masters has led purchasers, by making a very
simple calculation with reference to the average ages of
painters, the time necessary to paint a pic lire and die
number of works ascribed to every artist of t0 a
at the conclusion that not one in,a hun^red“ Lectures
stances, perhaps, not one in a thous^d-^f the pictures
ascribed to old painters could have been executed by them.
Hence, in these times of practical men and measures, the
possessor of a collection of the old masters is not, without
considerable scrutiny and hesitation, admitted to ran as a
connoisseur. , ,
,, .. .. The patronage that Sir George Beaumont and ot
of aTbv°n kindred spirits bestowed upon British art, though high y
the pubhe. honourable to them, was very different from that now ac¬
corded by our merchant princes. In the early days ot an
in this country our artists scarcely knew their own powers.
If they ventured to compose works in any way differing Painting
from those of the old masters, they were not only ac-
cused of heresy, but took guilt to themselves. Sir Joshua
Reynolds held up Ludovico Caracci as a model, though he
himself was a much superior painter Wilson constantly
referred to Claud ; and before he died the name of Vandyck
was amono' the last words Gainsborough uttered. At
the beo-inning of the century this feeling still prevailed.
Patronao-e of modern art was only hesitatingly given,
and occasionally the patron accompanied the commission
with directions how to execute the work required by him.
It is recorded that Sir George Beaumont deemed no land¬
scape completed till a brown tree, in the manner of the
ancients, was introduced, and could scarcely preserve his
equanimity when Constable bluntly questioned the sound¬
ness of the maxim. Now, however, the extent and value
of the various collections ot modern art in London and the
other emporiums of manufacture and merchandise is quite
marvellous. The collections of Wells ot Readleaf; Barnard;
Arden ; Bicknell; Ditton of London ; Miller of Preston ,
Edenof Leatham; Newsham, Preston; Fairbairn, Hull; Ash¬
ton, Manchester; Naylor, Houldsworth,and J. Miller,Liver¬
pool ; Gillot, Birmingham ; Houldsworth and Denmstoun,
Glasgow; Graham, Lancefield ; Wilson, Banknock; Cand,
Greenock are all very important, several of them of immense
value And these and similar collections for the most part
have been formed, not with the view of qualifying then-pos¬
sessors to be ranked as connoisseurs,—though certainly the
frequent exercise of judgment must lead to knowledge,
but on the sound principle of making art the mean* of im¬
parting to themselves and their friends pleasure of a highly
intellectual kind ; while from the exerc,Se of those large
but keen views that enter so much into the mercantile cha¬
racter, the sums invested on art-property are in most cases
at any time capable of being turned to good account, Tbus
the great vigour displayed by art in this country and the
enormous patronage bestowed on it by the public within
these few years, must be set down to the circumstance of
its being now admitted by artists, and the public generally,
to be a settled principle, that in a community socially and
politically constituted like ours, art cannot and ought not
to depend for encouragement on government Pa^0"a^*
Freed from the notions of government employment that ob¬
structed so many of our painters some years ago, the artis
can now give his whole attention to produce a work that
will interest the public, from its attracting sympathy by
touching the feelings, or by recalling and illustrating past
events of importance, or by perpetuating momentous oc¬
currences of the times, or by placing before the eye scene*
of beauty or grandeur ; and when this is done he knows hi*
efforts will not pass unnoticed, for in the exhibitions now
opened in all our large cities, his productions, if up to a
certain standard, will be admitted and brought before an
assemblage eager to find out works evincing talent and
by praising and purchasing them, to reward the ai lists y
whom they are executed. . cn n.
What is called the pre-Raphaelite movement is one of Pre-^
the results of the change in the notions of our artists r I
gar ding the study of the old masters and high art, though it
must be admitted that the invention and development ot the
science of photography greatly aided it.
The question so frequently put,—namely, What is it tha
distinguishes the style of art called pre-Raphaehtism from
other styles of art?—is answered in so many different ways
that it is manifest the ideas of most people regarding it
are quite undefined. Some say that it is a style of art mo¬
delled on that of the artists who painted before the period
nf Raohael in whose time the classic element which shoitly
before S been superinduced on the Gothic had entirely
superseded it; that though by this, art gained many high
qualities, it lost several of greater importance, particulai ly truth
? A I
iello. and simplicity; and that pre-Raphaelitism aims at return-
ing to the purity and simplicity of the style of these old
painters. Others allege that it is an attempt to represent
nature as truly and faithfully as the means employed will
allow, neither omitting, nor adding, nor changing anything.
But the explanation oftenest given is, that it means a style
of painting involving great labour and careful and minute
execution, or what, technically speaking, is ca\\ed finish.
Now, though in each of these attempts to define what
pre-Raphaelitism is, some of the elements that enter into it
are pointed out, yet by none of them is a complete explana¬
tion given of it, while a combination of all these defini¬
tions would involve contradiction. For instance, the very
name the followers of this style have adopted implies an as¬
similation to the style of the art. before Raphael’s time; but
though in the works of many of these old painters we find
several high qualities, a very close resemblance to na¬
ture assuredly is not one of them. We no doubt see that
an effort is made to attain it, and that may be pointed at
as a sufficient motive; but again, these old painters knew
nothing of breadth, and not much of light and shadow ; and
pre-Raphaelites constantly aim at these qualities (particu¬
larly the latter) in their works. Then, as to its being
merely a faithful representation of what the artist sees,
that would be putting his work on a level with one produced
by machinery; this notion is evidently based on exag¬
gerated ideas raised by too much reliance on photography,
P A l 87
which, though extremely useful, is only an auxiliary to Paisley,
art. While to make minute finish the distinguishing fea- v
ture of pre-Raphaelitism would be assigning to it bv no
means a high position ; and, indeed, in the works of several
painters we find many of the faults which pre-Raphaelites
strongly censure united to very high finish.
But, indeed, pre-Raphaelite art has even already under¬
gone modification ; and what has lately drawn forth bitter
ridicule from some, and inflated praise from others, is rather
an excrescence on a style which is entitled to high praise
as one of the many vigorous efforts by which British art,
emancipated from the notions and prejudices that so long
have clogged it, has established its claim to originality
and power.
On reviewing the state of painting in Great Britain,
it may be truly said that our artists, freed from conven¬
tional rules, having cast aside vain notions of government
patronage, and aided by those appliances (photography
chiefly) that science has put within their reach, now study
nature with the greatest earnestness and success. And the
numerous opportunities afforded by exhibitions, of bringing
their efforts before the public, rapidly improving in taste
and in ability to appreciate and reward art,—has led to such
results, that many of the works of the British school, even
in our own day, will compete successfully with those of the
most celebrated ancient schools that have conferred honour
on the countries where they flourished. (w. B. j.)
PAISIELLO,1 Giovanni, a very distinguished Italian
musician, was born at Taranto, in the Neapolitan States, on
the 9th of May 1741. His aptitude for music having been
early remarked, he was admitted, in May 1754, as a pupil
of the Conservatory of St Onofrio at Naples. There he
received lessons from Durante, and afterwards from Co-
tunni and Abos. In 1759 he obtained the place of assist¬
ant master. He finished his studies in 1763, and the fame
of an intermezzo which he then composed, obtained for
him an immediate engagement to write two operas for
Bologna. The success of these was so great that his re¬
putation at once spread through all Italy. In 1777 he was,
at the same moment, offered engagements at Vienna, at
London, and at St Petersburg. In June 1777 his opera
Dal finto al vero was represented at Naples ; and on the
25th of July following he set out for Russia. He resided
eight years at St Petersburg, where he received a large
salary, and composed some of his finest works; among
others, his opera II Barbiere di Seviglia. On his way
back to Italy, he stopped at Vienna, and composed there
twelve symphonies for a large orchestra, and the opera-
buffa 11 Re Teodoro, which contains a septuor that became
celebrated throughout Europe. During his stay at St Pe¬
tersburg, Paisiello had made some changes in his style of
composition; and at Rome, in 1785, when he brought out
his opera UAmor ingegnoso, he found that his countrymen
loudly disapproved of these changes. He then settled at
Naples, where he had no rival, Guglielmi and Cimarosa
being absent. For the next thirteen years he composed
for the Neapolitan theatres, and produced, during that
time, some of his best operas. Ferdinand IV. appointed
im his chapel-master, with a salary of twelve hundred
Aica.ts per annum. In 1788 the King of Prussia invited
aisiello to visit Berlin; but this invitation was declined,
as well as a second one to St Petersburg, and a first one
o London. In 1797 General Bonaparte opened to com¬
petitors the composition of a funeral march in honour of
eneral Hoche. Paisiello and Cherubini each sent a
marc i, and Bonaparte, very unjustly, decided in favour of
Paisiello. In consequence of the revolution at Naples in
1799, and of his own political tergiversation, Paisiello lost
his royal appointments for two years. Soon after their
being restored, Bonaparte, then First Consul, requested
the King of Naples to send Paisiello to Paris, in order to
direct the consular chapel; and he was accordingly sent
thither in September 1802. His treatment by Bonaparte
was munificent, while Cherubini was quite neglected.
(See the article Cherubini.) The opera of Proserpine,
composed by Paisiello in 1803, was ill received by the
Parisians; and this check, and his failing imagination, in¬
duced him to request leave to retire, under pretext of his
wife’s ill health. Bonaparte unwillingly granted the re¬
quest, and Paisiello returned to Naples and to his former
service. Afterwards, under Joseph Bonaparte and Murat,
Paisiello retained his appointments until a new revolution
reduced him to indigence. He died on the 5th of June,
1816, aged seventy-five years. He was a member of the
French Institute, and of the Royal Society of Arts and
Sciences at Naples, and was president of the directors of
the new Neapolitan Conservatory of Music. It appears
that he was excessively jealous of all musical rivals, and
that he used unworthy means of intrigue to injure Gug¬
lielmi and Cimarosa, and also Rossini, when the latter
began his brilliant career. The charm of Paisiello’s style
consists in sweet and graceful melody, and great simplicity
of structure. His compositions were very numerous. He
himself believed them to amount to two hundred. In
published lists of his works we find ninety operas and four
cantatas ; an oratorio {La Passione), and eighteen masses,
requiems, &c.; eighteen instrumental quartets; two volumes
of harpsichord sonatas, &c. ; six pianoforte concertos;
funeral march for General Hoche; a collection of figured
basses for the study of accompaniment. (g. f. g.)
PAISLEY, the principal town of Renfrewshire, Scotland,
is finely situated on the banks of the White Cart, about 3
miles S. of the River Clyde. The ancient and principal
part of the town occupies the summit and slopes of a beau¬
tiful declivity, the eastern base of which is washed by the
Dr Burney, in his Tour and History, Signor Perotti, in his Dissertazione, and some other writers, spell the name “ Paesiello.’
88
PAISLEY.
Paisley, river, which divides the burgh into two parts, that on the
east side being styled the New Town, from its more recent
erection. Paisley is generally considered as the ancient
Vanduara of Ptolemy, and as having been a Roman town
or station during the presence of these invaders in the
northern part of Scotland. As late as the beginning of the
last century, considerable vestiges remained of a Roman
camp on the western side of the hill on which Paisley is
built; but these have long since been obliterated by the
progressive extension and improvement of the town. 1 he
latitude of Paisley is 55. 51. N., and the longitude 4. 26.
W. The climate is temperate, but humid. In former times
infectious diseases were of rather frequent occurrence.
In 1645 a pestilence committed great ravages in this place ;
and in 1765 dysentery prevailed to an alarming extent.
In 1771 pleurisy carried off numbers of the inhabitants;
and virulent influenza has visited it at various times.
ley, however, has never been considered unhealthy; and
the registrar-general’s returns for the years 1855, 1856, and
1857, show, that in regard to mortality it occupies a medium
position among the large towns of Scotland. During
years the rate of mortality in Paisley has not been so high
as in Greenock or Glasgow; it has been very nearly the
same as in Dundee, and it has been higher than in Aber¬
deen or Edinburgh.
Whether the Roman town or station called V anduara was
a place of any size or importance is unknown. A cloud over¬
hangs the history of Paisley till about the year 1163, when
WaFter, the first Stewart, founded a monastery on the east¬
ern bank of the Cart, opposite to what is now termed the
Old Town of Paisley. At this period there does not appear
to have been a village or hamlet, however small, in exist¬
ence ; but the protection which the monastery afforded in
those rude times, and the multitude of pilgrims, travellers,
and persons of distinction who frequented it, gradually in¬
duced a population to assemble in its vicinity ; and a village
of some extent made its appearance on the western bank
of the river, and began slowly to clamber up the gentle
slope of the hill on that side. In 1220 the monastery was
elevated to the dignity of an abbey, and many valuable
privileges wrere subsequently conferred upon it by the Pope,
and bv its founder and successive patrons. Its jurisdiction
and revenues were very extensive, extending to, and being
derived from, localities at a great distance ; its abbots were
commonly men of the highest family connections, and ap¬
pear frequently as prominent actors on the stage of Scottish
civil and ecclesiastical history. After the Reformation, the
revenues and privileges of this ecclesiastical establishment
were bestowed upon Lord Claud Hamilton, and have since
become the property, though greatly reduced, of the noble
family of Abercorn. A considerable part of the ancient
abbey still remains, and is in excellent preservation. Ihe
skeleton of a beautiful window, 35 feet in height by 18 in
breadth, almost the only fragment of the more ancient part
of the building, has been much admired for its size, light¬
ness, and fine proportions. The external architecture o
the remaining portion is perhaps scarcely equal to that ot
some other ecclesiastical edifices in Scotland; but the ap¬
pearance of the nave, which is occupied as a parish church,
is grand and striking in no ordinary degree; and some ew
fragmentary remains of the old monastery exhibit hne spe¬
cimens of the purest Gothic. Before the accession o t e
Stuart family to the throne of Scotland, their burying-place
was in the abbey; and even after that event two of its
members were interred there, viz., the queen ot Robeit 11.,
in 1387, and Robert III., in 1406. The tomb of Marjory
Bruce, daughter of Robert I., is still to be seen in the
famous sounding aisle, now occupied as a burial-vault by
the Abercorn family.
Notwithstanding the wealth and manufacturing import¬
ance of Paisley, it is only a burgh of barony ; but its privi¬
leges are so very considerable as almost to equal those of Paisley.
a royal burgh. Previously to 1770 the burgh had a voice v  
in the election of a member of Parliament for the county.
Now, bv the Scottish Reform Act, Paisley sends a member
to represent it in Parliament. The constituency in 18o7
was 1349. Formerly the government of the town was vested
in a provost, three bailies, and seventeen councillors; but
by the Scottish Burgh Reform Act there are now a provost,
four bailies, a treasurer, and ten councillors.
In 1553 John Hamilton, the last abbot, conveyed by
a deed the revenues and privileges of the abbacy to Lord
Claud Hamilton, then a child of ten years of age. He was
afterwards deprived of the latter on account of ms adher¬
ence to the fortunes of Queen Mary; but in 1591^ they
were restored, with the title of Lord Paisley. In 1653 the
second Earl of Abercorn disposed of his interest in the
abbacy to the Dundonald family; and in 1658 the magis¬
trates and council purchased this superiority. Since that
time Paislev has held directly of the crown. In 1857 the
real annuafrent of all the property within the burgh was
L.99,628.  
The topography of Paisley and its vicinity is not vel7
remarkable. Previously to the year 1736 the whole of
this district was included in one parish, known by the name
of the parish of Paisley ; but since that time the burgh has
been divided into three parishes—the High, the Middle, and
the Low. The Abbey parish now comprehends the New
Town, which, with a trifling exception, is separated from
the burgh by the River Cart, and the populous villages ot
Johnstone, Elderslie, Thorn, Quarrelton, Nitshill, Hurlet,
and Dovecot Hall, with the country districts. io the
north, and affording a noble view from the eminence on
which Old Paisley is chiefly built, extends the great plain
of the lower valley of the Clyde, anciently called Strath-
qryffe. On the south the Gleniffer, or Paisley
distant about 3 miles, swell gently up to the height of 760
feet above the surface of the Cart. J he soil is of a mixed
character, but in many places rich and fertile. From the
heights just mentioned descend a variety of minor streams,
of great utility to the agriculturist and manufacturer, and
adding to the richness and beauty ot the scenery. Ihe
surface of the country in the neighbourhood, with the ex¬
ception of that to the north, which is flat, is agreeably
diversified, and broken into gentle swells and soft declivities,
which, with the mixture of gentlemen’s seats, farm-houses,
bleaching-fields, and other public works, confers a pic¬
turesque and animated character upon the entire vicinage.
Valuable minerals abound in the parish, such as coal, lime¬
stone of the coal formation, and ironstone. In the strath
to the north-west of the town, extending towards Linwood,
valuable blackband ironstone has recently been discovered
and is now being extensively worked by Messrs Meiry and
Cunningham, and others. A great mining population is
rapidly collecting in that district. There are also very ex¬
tensive coal-pits wrought in the neighbourhood, chiefly at
Johnstone ; and in that vicinity, and at Hurlet, the chemi¬
cal works of the Messrs Wilson and others are on a very
large scale. Very fine freestone is also obtained in the
neighbourhood. . .
As it is chiefly, however, to its being one of the principal
manufacturing stations in the kingdom that Paisley owes
its celebrity, we shall now present a brief sketch of the
history, progressive improvement and increase, and present
extent of its principal manufactv.res. There is no certain
account as to the precise period when the art of weaving
was introduced. It appears, however, that the manufacture
of linen was carried on to a considerable extent during the
last century. Shortly after the Union the spirit of manu¬
facturing enterprise sprang up in the west of Scotland, and
Paisley was not slow in availing itself of the general im¬
pulse. Craufurd, describing the state of Paisley in 1710,
PAISLEY.
89
Paisley, observes :—“ That which renders this place considerable is
i a-v—> its trade of linen and muslin, where there is a great weekly
sale in its markets of those sorts of cloth, many ol the in¬
habitants being chiefly employed in that sort of manufac¬
tory” From 1744 *to 1784 the linen manufacture in¬
creased in amount from L. 18,886, los. lOd. to no less than
L. 184,385, 16s. 6£d. About the year 1722 the manufac¬
ture of linen thread was introduced into Paislej, and cai-
ried on to a large extent. For several years it reached the
amount of L. 100,000 annually. Cotton thread, having
superseded that made from linen yarn, is manufactured to
a very considerable extent, and forms one of the principal
manufactures of the place. Besides the establishment of
the Messrs Coats, which is said to be the most extensive,
the most valuable, and the most magnificent of the kind in
the world, there are now about ten others, some of which
are very extensive. The value of the thread annually
manufactured in Paisley at the beginning of the present
century was estimated at L.60,000. It is now about
L.400,000. In 1760 silk gauze began to be manufactured
in Paisley; and in a short time the skill and ability with
which this manufacture was prosecuted caused its aban¬
donment by the manufacturers of Spittalfields, the original
seat of the silk manufacture in Great Britain. 1 his ma¬
nufacture flourished extensively until near the close of the
last century. From 1772 there existed also a considerable
manufacture of ribbons and other articles in silk. In 1744
the value of the manufactures of Paisley was L.579,185,
and in 1769 it amounted to L.660,385. In 1744 only 867
looms were employed in the weaving of linen; and forty
years afterwards no fewer than 5000 looms were engaged
in the manufacture of silk, the produce of which amounted
to L.350,000.
Towards the end of last century the making of silk goods
declined rapidly ; but a new species of manufacture sprang
up, which has since been carried to a much greater extent.
The manufacture of shawls, of cotton, silk, and fancy
woollen fabrics, has now become the staple trade of Paisley.
In little more than forty years after its introduction (in
1834) this manufacture produced about a million sterling;
and since then it has increased considerably.
Previously to the present century fine shawls had been
manufactured in this country chiefly at Norwich and Stock-
port in England, where they were made in imitation of the
rich India shawls. The latter, from their high price, were
beyond the reach of all but a few' wealthy individuals, when
the manufacturing skill and enterprise of Paisley embarked
in the manufacture, and, by successive inventions and im¬
provements in the loom, and in the kind and quality of the
materials, prosecuted for a long series of years, succeeded
in realizing a nearly perfect imitation of those oriental
fabrics in colours, texture, and design, and at a mere frac¬
tion of the cost. Besides the extraordinary cheapness,
the variety of new and beautiful fabrics and designs which
have been introduced into the shawl manufacture have
largely contributed to its extent and success. The manu¬
facture of shawls is almost wholly confined to Paisley ; but
a considerable proportion of these find their way to the
Glasgow markets for home and foreign sale. The kinds
produced are various in quality and cost, and there is a
great variety in the styles and fabrics. Some are wholly
made of silk, but these are not now much in demand;
others of silk and cotton, and a great many of Persian and
fancy wools mixed with both or either. Thibet cloth
shawls, a very rich and fanciful fabric; Chenille shawls, a
beautiful imitation of silk velvet; Canton crape shawls;
and various other and newer kinds, of every possible variety
in size, texture, pattern, and price, are produced from the
looms of Paisley, with a rapidity and abundance which,
whilst it tends occasionally to overload the market, affords
satisfactory evidence of the manufacturing skill and re-
YOL. XVII.
sources of Paisley. The present annual amount of the Paisley,
trade and manufactures of Paisley has been roughly cal- v''—
culated at nearly two millions sterling. To give anything
like a view of the various inventions and improvements in
the art of weaving, by means of which Paisley has attained
its present eminence as a chief seat of the silk and cotton
manufactures in Scotland, would swell this article beyond
all due bounds. The hasty sketch which we have supplied
affords some general data to the reader, who may consult,
if he wishes for more minute information, Wilson’s Survey
of Renfrewshire; Craufurd’s Description of the Shire of
Renfrew, with Robertson’s continuation; and the New
Statistical Account of Scotland. The spinning of cotton
yarn is also extensively carried on by Paisley manufacturers
in the town and parish, but there are no data to be relied
on for ascertaining its annual amount. Bleaching and dye¬
ing, as might be expected, are prosecuted to a very con¬
siderable extent. Soap-making is a trade of some antiquity
and importance ; and malting, the distillation of raw spirits,
and silk-throwing, have also a considerable capital embarked
in them. Owing to the frequent and severe depressions
that have recently occurred in connection with the weaving
trade of Paisley, a considerable number of those formerly
engaged in that line have transferred their industry to other
employments. By this means some branches of business,
formerly existing in the town, have been very much ex¬
tended, and others entirely new have been introduced.
Among the branches thus increased or introduced, the
principal are the thread manufacture already mentioned,
shawl-printing, soap-making, iron-founding, engineering,
and iron ship-building.
Thursday is the market-day in Paisley, and there are
four fairs annually, which last three days each. The races
at St James’ Day Fair were long well known in the west
of Scotland, and attracted great numbers from the sur¬
rounding districts. For many years they were much fre¬
quented by the sporting world ; but after the close of the
races, on the last day of the sport in August 1857, a serious
and disgraceful riot occurred on the course. A number of
the inhabitants memorialized the burgh trustees, and the
provost and magistrates, against the continuance of the
races. After several meetings, the burgh trustees and the
town council agreed to discontinue the races. I he grounds,
including the course, were let for agricultural purposes;
and the Paisley race-course, one of the best in the king¬
dom, is now a ploughed field.
Paisley is abundantly supplied with the means of exter¬
nal communication. The Glasgow and Greenock, and the
Glasgow and South-Western railways, both pass through
it. There is a railway to the Clyde near Renfrew; and
although the Glasgow, Paisley, and Johnstone Canal has
ceased to carry passengers, it is still available, and largely
used, for the conveyance of goods.
The yearly returns of the post-office show the growing
nrosperitv of Paisley. In 1 (20 the amount was only L.28,
13s.; 1769, L.223, 3s. 8d.; 1809, L.2814, 17s. 4d.; 1834,
L.3194. Since the introduction of the penny postage, the
delivery of letters from the Paisley post-office has risen to
about 676,000 in a year. In the money-order department
there are about 14,000 transactions in a year.
The river Cart is navigable to Paisley for vessels of from
60 to 80 tons burthen. The river dues in 1835 amounted
to L.260, and at the present time they are about L.600.
Paisley is well supplied with the means of religious in¬
struction. There are 8 congregations in connection with
the Church of Scotland, 6 with the Free Church, 6 with
the United Presbyterian Church, and about 16 of various
other denominations. There is, therefore, on an average,
one congregation for every 1350 of the burghal population.
The number of scholars attending the different sabbath
schools in Paisley during the year 1857 amounted to 6614.
M
90 P A I
Paisley. The grammar school of Paisley was established by King
v . y James VI. Tlie charter of erection is dated ^ at Halie-
rude House,” 3d January 1576, but the oldest date on the
tablet in front of the building is 1586. Besides the gram¬
mar school, there are three other burgh schools, and a
number of private or adventure schools. Within the last
few years large sums have become available for the educa¬
tion of the poor. The late John Neilson bequeathed a sum
for this purpose, which is supposed to have accumulated to
about L.30,000. He died in 1839; and the school was opened
in 1852. Other sums of smaller amount have been be¬
queathed for similar purposes. At present, active prepara¬
tions are being made for opening an institution for reclaiming
youthful offenders. The late Miss Kibble, some years ago, be¬
queathed for that purpose a sum now amounting to L.10,000,
The Educational Association supports several schools which
supply education to a great number of pupils at a very cheap
rate; and the Ragged School furnishes a home and educa¬
tion to the houseless and the destitute. Hutcheson’s Cha¬
rity, though possessed of very scanty means, gives gra¬
tuitous education to a large number of children; the Ge¬
neral Session educates gratuitously 100 pupils; and seveial
of the congregations support schools in which education is
given either gratuitously or at nominal fees, in some cases
as low as one penny a week. In addition to all this, the
Committee of Privy Council on Education have at different
times granted considerable sums to assist in building school-
houses ; and large sums are annually received from the
same source to supplement teachers’ salaries, and to pay for
pupil teachers for the education of the poor. The amount
received in Paisley in 1857 for these purposes, together
with the sum required for reducing the price of school¬
books, could scarcely be less than L.1000. In future years
this sum will be very considerably increased.
The town is well lighted with gas, and there is an
abundant supply of excellent water, collected from the
neighbouring heights in two large reservoirs, from which it
is conveyed into the town by gravitation. The assessment
for the poor in the three town parishes for the year ending
May 1858 was L.5200; and in the Abbey parish for the
same year the assessment was L.5000.
There are few public buildings of importance in Paisley.
Besides the Abbev, may be mentioned St George’s parish
church, the Free High church, the Episcopal church, and
also the Oakshaw Street and Abbey Close United Presby¬
terian churches. The coiinty buildings are of considerable
extent and elegance, in the castellated style ; and the news¬
room at the Cross is also a handsome building. J he John
Neilson Institution is in itself a very fine building, and
occupying, as it does, by far the best situation in Paisley,
it appears to great advantage. There are three bridges
over the Cart, connecting the Old and the New 1 own of
Paisley, but none of them is remarkable. The most im¬
portant public charity in Paisley is the infirmary, supported
by voluntary subscriptions.
The civil history of Paisley affords little to interest or
deserve the attention of the general reader. Its ecclesiasr
tical history is curious and interesting, but supplies few
points sufficiently salient and compact to be entered |tpon
in so brief a sketch. The famous “ Black Book of Pa,s"
ley,” which was long supposed to have been a history of
Paisley and its monastery, has been ascertained to be the
Scotichronicon of Fordun, a monk of the fourteenth cen¬
tury. The inhabitants of Paisley early embraced the doc¬
trines of the Reformation, notwithstanding the naturally
adverse influences of the great monastic establishment; and
displayed their attachment to these on various occasions
during the civil wars and prelatical persecutions of the
seventeenth century. In 1715 and 1745 they showed equal
zeal for the House of Brunswick ; and the burgh had to pay
a fine of L.500 to the Young Chevalier at the latter period,
PAL
as a composition for its anti-Jacobite predilections. The Pajou
magistrates afterwards memorialized government for com- ||
pensation, but they never obtained it. In 1597 the queen Pafaeologua
of James VI. honoured the inhabitants with a visit to their
town, when it would appear that the royal entertainment
fell so heavy on the burgh funds, that in 1617, when her
royal consort also visited it, the civic dignitaries prudently
forbore so costly a welcome, but in lieu thereof employed
“ a prettie boy, a son of a Sir James Semple of Beltrees,”
to make him' a speech, which was judiciously spiced for
James’s royal ear.
In 1695 the population of the town of Paisley, exclusively
of the Abbey parish, where there were then very few houses,
was only 2200. In 1755, sixty years after, it amounted in
the town and Abbey parish to 6799; and in 1781 to
11,100 in the town alone, the population of the Abbey
parish not being given in the register. In 1791 the total
population was 24,592; 1801, 31,179; 1811, 36,722 ;
1821,47,003; 1831, 57,466; 1841,60,487 ; 1851,60,332.
In 1851 the population of the parliamentary burgh was
48,026 ; and in 1858 the same was estimated at 48,302.
PAJOU, Augustin, an eminent French sculptor, was
born at Paris in 1730, and studied in the workshop of
Lemoine. His talents and facile skill were soon recognised,
and his career of distinction began early. At the age of
eighteen he gained the French Academy’s grand prize for
sculpture, and the attendant privilege of being sent to Rome
to complete his studies. On his return at the end of twelve
years, he immediately assumed a high place in his profession.
He was elected forthwith a member, and in 1767 a pro¬
fessor, of the Academy. Louis XVI. also employed him to
adorn with sculptures the faqade of the Palais Royal, and
to execute statues of Pascal, iurenne, Bossuet, Buffon, and
Descartes. From these and his numerous other works
Pajou had realized a handsome competency; but the Revolu¬
tion deprived him of it, and left him for the rest of his days
in comparative poverty. His death took place in 1809.J
PAK P ATT AN, or the Pure Town, a town of India, in
the Punjab, stands on a mound 40 feet high, in the midst
of a plain, 5 miles W. of the Ravee, and 98 S.S.M. of La¬
hore. It derives its name from having been long the resi¬
dence of a famous Mohammedan saint, whose tomb, a plain
edifice in a depression below the general level of the town,
is much frequented by pilgrims, both Hindu and Moham¬
medan. Pak Pattan is believed to be the site of the co¬
lossal altars erected by Alexander the Gieat to maik the
limits of his conquests.
PAKS, a town of Hungary, county of Tolna, stands on
the right bank of the Danube, 62 miles S. of Buda. The
inhabitants are chiefly employed in the culture of the vine,
and in sturgeon-fishing. There are two churches and a
synagogue, a cattle market, and it has some ti ade in corn.
Pop.n(f846) 7310. ,
PALAEOGRAPHY (TraXato?, ancient, and ypa^xo, 1
write), is that branch of knowledge which has to do with
the interpretation of ancient inscriptions and documents.
(See Archaeology, Diplomatics, Hieroglyphics, and
Egypt. For an account of the catalogues of manuscripts
in the British Museum and elsewhere, see Libraries.)
PALaEOLOGUS, the name of an illustrious Byzantine
family, first mentioned in history in the eleventh century,
from which period it played an important part in the affairs
of the empire till its downfall. The family of Palseologus
occupied the throne of Constantinople without interruption
from 1260 to 1453, when that city was taken by the lurks.
(See Constantinopolitan History. A full account of
this powerful house will be found in the Familice Byzan-
tince of Ducange, pp. 230-348 ; and a stemma of the family
is (fiven under “Palaologen,” in Ersch and Gruber’s Lncy-
clopadie; also in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman
Biography and Mythology.)
91-
PALEONTOLOGY1
Introduc- Is the science which treats of the evidences of organic
tion. beings in the earth’s strata; evidences mainly consisting ot
V—petrified or fossil remains of plants and animals belonging
Definition, to species that are mostly extinct.
Applica- The endeavour to interpret such evidences has led to com-
tion to parisons of the forms and structures of existing plants and
compara- animals, which have greatly and rapidly advanced the science
tive ana- comparative anatomy, especially as applied to the animal
torny’ kingdom, and herein more especially to the hard and en¬
during parts of the animal frame, such as corals, shells,
crusts, scales, bones, and teeth.
physio- In applying the results of these comparisons to the re-
logy, storation of extinct species, physiology has benefited by
the study of the relations of structure to function requisite
to obtain an idea of the food and habits of such species. It
has thus been enriched by the well-defined law of “ corre¬
lation of structures.”
zoology, Zoology has gained an immense accession of subjects
through the determination of the nature and affinities of
extinct animals, and its best aims have been proportionally
advanced. Much further and truer insight has been gained
into the natural arrangement and subdivision of the classes
of animals since palaeontology expanded our survey of
them. Thus a few hard-scaled fishes,—Polypterus, Lepi-
dosteus, e.g.,—which represent a subordinate group of the
herring family (Clupeidce), in the second edition of Cuvier’s
Reqne Animal, have been found to be the remnants of an
almost extinct order, equivalent to the whole Malacopterygii
of that naturalist; and the Ruminantia, which Cuvier
deemed to be a very natural and well-defined order, has
since become known to be a peculiarly modified subdivi¬
sion of a wider and more natural group of hoofed quadru¬
peds, the Artiodactyla.
homology, The knowledge of the type or fundamental pattern of
certain systems of organs, e.g., the framework of the Verte-
brata and the teeth of the Mammalia, has been much
advanced by the more frequent and closer adherence to
such type discovered in extinct animals, and thus the
highest aim of the zoologist has been greatly promoted by
palaeontology.
geology, But no collateral science has profited so much by palae¬
ontology as that which teaches the structure and mode of
formation of the earth’s crust, with the relative position, time,
and order of formation of its constituent stratified and unstra¬
tified parts. Geology has left her old hand-maiden minera¬
logy, to rest almost wholly upon the broad shoulders of her
young and vigorous offspring, the science of organic remains,
geography, By this science the law of the geographical distribution
of animals, as deduced from existing species, is shown to
have been in force during periods of time long antecedent
to human history, or to any evidence of human existence ;
and yet, in relation to the whole known period of life-
phenomena upon this planet, to have been a comparatively
recent result of geological forces determining the present
configuration and position of continents. In this relation,
palaeontology throws light upon a most interesting branch
of geographical science, that, viz., which relates to former
configurations of the earth’s surface, and to other disposi¬
tions of land and sea than prevail at the present day.
and philo- Finally, palaeontology has yielded the most important
sophy. facts to the highest range of knowledge to which the hu¬
man intellect aspires. It teaches that the globe allotted to
man has revolved in its orbit through a period of time so
vast that the mind, in the endeavour to realize it, is strained
by an effort like that by which it strives to conceive the space Introduc-
dividing the solar system from the most distant nebulae. tlon-
Palaeontology has shown that, from the inconceivably re-
mote period of the deposition of the Cambrian rocks, the
earth has been vivified by the sun’s light and heat, has
been fertilized by refreshing showers, and washed by tidal
waves; that the ocean not only moved in orderly oscil¬
lations regulated, as now, by sun and moon, but was rip¬
pled and agitated by winds and storms ; that the atmo¬
sphere, besides these movements, was healthily influenced
by clouds and vapours, rising, condensing, and falling in
ceaseless circulation. With these conditions of life, palae¬
ontology demonstrates that life has been enjoyed during
the same countless thousands of years ; and that with life,
from the beginning, there has been death. The earliest
testimony of the living thing, whether coral, crust, or shell,
in the oldest fossiliferous rock, is at the same time proof
that it died. At no period does it appear that the gift of
life has been monopolized by contemporary individuals
through a stagnant sameness of untold time, but it has
been handed down from generation to generation, and suc¬
cessively enjoyed by the countless thousands that consti¬
tute the species. Palaeontology further teaches, that not
only the individual, but the species perishes; that as death
is balanced by generation, so extinction has been conco¬
mitant with the creative power which has continued to
provide a succession of species ; and furthermore, that, as
regards the various forms of life which this planet has sup¬
ported, there has been “ an advance and progress in the
main.” Thus we learn, that the creative force has not
deserted the earth during any of the epochs of geological
time that have succeeded to the first manifestation of such
force; and that, in respect to no one class of animals, has
the operation of creative force been limited to one geologi¬
cal epoch ; and perhaps the most important and signifi¬
cant result of palaeontological research has been the esta¬
blishment of the axiom of the continuous operation of the
ordained becoming of living things.
In entering upon the present survey of the evidences of
organic beings in the earth’s crust, it is proposed to com¬
mence with the lowest or most simple forms, and, as the
subject of fossil plants has been ably dealt with under the
head Palaeontological Botany, in vol. v., p. 232, to
treat chiefly of the remains of the animal kingdom.
A reference to the subjoined “ Table ot Strata” (fig. 1)
will indicate the relative position of the geological forma¬
tions cited. The numerals opposite the right hand give the
approximative depth or vertical thickness of the strata.
Oro-anisms, or living things, are those which possess such Definition
an internal cellular or cellulo-vascular structure as can ?f orSan'
receive fluid matter from without, alter its nature, and addlsms,
it to the alterative structure. Such fluid matter is called
“ nutritive,” and the actions which make it so are called
“ assimilation” and “ intus-susception.” These actions are
called “ vital,” because, as long as they are continued, the of animals,
“organism” is said “to live.” When the organism can
also move, receive the nutritive matter by a mouth into a
stomach, inhale oxygen and exhale carbonic acid, develop
tissues the proximate principles of which are quaternary
compounds of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, it of plants,
is called an “ animal.” When the organism is rooted, has
no mouth or stomach, exhales oxygen, has tissues composed
of “ cellulose” or of binary or ternary compounds, it is
I From Trcx.Xa.io}, ancient, ovra., beings, Xoyo}, a discourse.
92
Introduc¬
tion.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Table of Strata and Order of Appearance of Animal, Life upon the Earth, called a “ plant.
Fig. 1.
MOLLUSCA Cephalopoda
Gasteropoda
Brachiopoda
/ /V V E RnT E B RAT A
Crustacea fyc.
Annelids fyc.
Zoophytes $c
20,000
    ” But the two divisions Protozoa.
of organisms called “plants” and “animals”
are specialized members of the great na-
tural group of living things ; and there are
numerous organisms, mostly of minute
size and retaining the form of nucleated
cells, which manifest the common organic
characters, but without the distinctive
superadditions of true plants or animals.
Such organisms are called “ Protozoa,”
and include the sponges or Amorphozoa,
the Foraminifera or Rhizopods, the Po-
lycystinece, the Diatomacece, Desmidice,
and most of the so-called Polygastria ot
Ehrenberg, or infusorial animalcules ot
older authors.
PROTOZOA.
Class L—AMORPHOZOA.
Fossil sponges take an important place
among the organic remains of the former
world, not only on account of their great
variety of form and structure, but still
more because of the extraordinary abun¬
dance of individuals in certain strata. In
England they specially characterize the
chalk formation,—extensive beds of silici-
fied sponges occur in the upper greensand,
and in some beds of the oolite and car¬
boniferous limestone. In Germany a
member of the Oxford oolite is called the
“ spongitenkalk,” from its numerous fossils
of the present class.
Existing sponges are divided into
flinty, and limy, or “ceratose,” “silicious,”
and “ calcareous,” according to the sub¬
stance of their hard sustaining parts, which
parts are commonly in the shape of fine
needles, or spicula, of very varied forms,
but in many species of sufficient con¬
stancy to characterize such species. The
soft organic substance is for the most part
structureless and diffluent; it is uncon-
tractile and impassive. The larger orifices
on the surface of a sponge are termed “os-
cula,” and are those out of which the cur¬
rents of water flow : these enter by more
numerous and minute “ pores.”
The calcareous sponges abound in the
oolitic and cretaceous strata, attaining their
maximum of development in the chalk;
they are now almost extinct, or are repre¬
sented by other families with calcareous
spicula. The horny sponges appear to be
more abundant now than in the ancient
seas, but their remains are only recognis¬
able in those instances where they were
charged with silicious spicula.
M. D’Orbigny enumerates 36 genera
and 427 spepies of fossil sponges ; and this
is probably only a small proportion of the
actual number in museums, as the difficulty
of determining the limits of the species is
very great, and many remain undescribed.
Palaospongia and Acanthospongia oc¬
cur in the lower Silurian ; and Stromato-
pora, with its concentrically laminated
masses, attains a large size in the Wen-
lock limestone. Steganodictyum, Sparsi-
spongia, and species of Scyphia, are found
PALAEONTOLOGY.
93
Protozoa, in the Devonian; and Bothroconis, Mamillopora, and
' Tragos, in the Permian or magnesian limestone. Several
9-
10.
Amorphozoa ; Rhizopoda.
Siphonia pyriformis, Goldf.; Greensand, Blackdown,
Guettardia Thiolati, D’Arch.; U. Chalk, Biarritz.
Ventriculites radiatus, Mant,; XI, Chalk, Sussex,
Manon osculiferum, Phil.; U, Chalk, Yorkshire.
Fusulina cylindrica, Fisch.; Carboniferous, Russia.
Flabellina rugosa, D’Orb. ; Chalk, Europe.
Lituola nautiioidea, Lam.; Chalk, Europe.
Nummulites nummularia, Brug.; Eocene, Old World.
Orhitoides media, D’Arch.; U. Chalk, France.
Ovulites margaritula, Lam.; Chalk, Europe.
genera are common to the trias and oolites; and several
more are peculiar to the latter strata. The Oxfordian
sponges belong chiefly to the genera Eudea, Hippalimus,
Cribrispongia, Stellispongia, and Cupulispongia. Their
fibrous skeleton appears to have been entirely calcareous,
and often very solid ; their form is cup-shaped, or mammil-
lated, or incrusting; and many have a sieve-like appear¬
ance, from the regular distribution of the excurrent orifices
{os.cula) over their surface.
The greensand of Faringdon in Berkshire is a stratum
prolific in sponges, chiefly cup-shaped and calcareous, of the
genera Scyphia and Chenendopora; or mammillated, like
Cnemidium and Verticillopora. The Kentish rag is full of
sponges, which are most apparent on the water-worn sides
of fissures. Some beds are so full of silicious spicula as to
irritate the hands of the quarrymen working those beds.
The greensand of Blackdown is famous for the number and
perfect preservation of its pear-shaped Siphonice i);
whilst those of Warminster are ornamented with three or
more lobes. The latter locality is the richest in England
for large cup-shaped and branching sponges (Polypothecia),
which are all silicified. The sponges, chiefly Siphonice, of
the upper greensand of Farnham are infiltrated with phos¬
phate of lime, and have been used in agriculture.
The sponges of the chalk belong to several distinct fami¬
lies. Choanites resembles the Siphonia> but is sessile, and
exhibits in section, or in weathered specimens, a spiral tube
winding round the central cavity. It is the commonest
sponge in the Brighton brooch-pebbles. Others are irregu¬
larly cup-shaped and calcareous ; and many of the Wilt¬
shire flints have a nucleus of branching sponge (& cla-
vellatd). The chalk flints, arranged in regular layers, or
built up in columns of “ Paramoudrse,” all contain traces of
sponge structure, and their origin is in some measure con¬
nected with the periodic growth of large crops of sponges.
Frequently the crust or outer surface only of the sponge
has been silicified, while the centre has decayed, leaving
a botryoidal or stalactitic cavity. The cup-shaped sponges
are almost always more or less enveloped with flint, which
invests the stem and lines the interior, leaving the rim
exposed. The sponges of the Yorkshire chalk are of a dif¬
ferent character: some are elongated and radiciform, others
horizontally expanded, but they contain comparatively little
silica ; while those belonging to the genus Manon (fig. 2, q)* Protozoa,
having prominent “ oscula,” are superficially silicified, and
will bear immersion and cleaning with hydrochloric acid.
The largest group of chalk sponges, typified by Ventricu¬
lites (fig. 2, 3), have the form of a cup or funnel, slender or
expanded, or folded into star-like shape {Guettardia, fig. 2,
i), with processes from the angles to give them firmer attach¬
ment. Some have a tortuous or labyrinthic outline, and
others are branched or compound, like Brachiolites. Cu¬
rious sections of these may be obtained from specimens
enveloped with flint or pyrites. The burrowing-sponge,
Cliona, is commonly found in shells of the tertiaries and
chalk. The great cretaceous Exogyrce of the United States
are frequently mined by them ; and flint casts of Belemnites
and Inoeerami are often covered by their ramifying cells
and fibres. Thin sections of chalk flints, when polished
and examined with the microscope, sometimes exhibit
minute spherical bodies (Spiniferites) covered with radiat¬
ing and multicuspid spines. From their close resemblance
to the little fresh-water organism Xanthidium, they long
bore that name ; but they are certainly marine bodies, and
probably the spores of sponges.
Class II.—FORAMINIFERA.
The organisms of this class are small, and for the most
part of microscopic minuteness,—of a simple gelatinous
structure, protected by a shell. They grow by successive
gemmation from a primordial segment, sometimes in a
straight line, more commonly in a spiral curve; and each
segment so developed has its own shelly envelope. As,
however, they are organically connected, the whole seems
to form a chambered” or “ polythalamous” shell. The
last-formed segment is usually distinguished by very long,
slender, pellucid, colourless, contractile filaments, like root¬
lets ; whence the name “ Rhizopods,” sometimes given to
the class. But both the outer wall and the septa of the
compound shell are perforated by minute apertures, through
which either connecting or projecting filaments of the soft
organic tissue pass; whence the name Faraminifera. The
several segments or jelly-filled chambers are essentially
repetitions of each other; and there is no proof that the
inner and earlier segments derive their nourishment from
the outer and last-formed one. A Foraminifer may there¬
fore be regarded either as a series of individuals, organi¬
cally united, or as a single aggregate being, compounded
according to the law of vegetative repetition.
The minute, chambered shells of Rhizopods enter largely
into the composition of all the sedimentary strata, and are
so abundant in many common and familiar materials, like
the chalk, as to justify the expression of Buffon, that the
very dust had been alive. The deep-sea soundings of the
Atlantic Telegraph Company have shown that the bed of
that great ocean, at a depth approaching, or even exceed¬
ing, two miles, is composed of little else than the calcareous
shells of a Globigerina and a few other Rhizopods, with
the silicious shields of the allied Polycy&tine<B. The com¬
position of the chalk is extremely similar: when the finer
portion, amounting to half or even less, has been washed
away, the remaining sediment consists almost entirely of
foraminated shells, some perfect, others in various stages of
disintegration. They have also been found in other marine
formations which are soft enough to be washed, down to
the Lower Silurian ; and in the hard limestones and marbles
they can be detected in polished sections, and thin slices
laid on glass. The greater part of these shells are micro¬
scopic, but some of the large extinct Foraminifera, called,
from resembling a piece of money, Nummulites, are two
inches in diameter. The generic divisions in use for these
shells were mostly invented by M. D’Orbigny,but on artifi¬
cial grounds,—viz., exclusively upon the plan of growth, or
94
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Protozoa, mode of increase in the number of chambers. The struc-
ture and anamorphoses of these complex atoms have been
recently investigated by Messrs Williamson and Carpenter,
and especially by Mr W. K. Parker. Six hundred and fifty-
seven fossil species, belonging to seventy-three genera, are
described,—commencing in the palaeozoic age, increasing
in number and variety with each successive stratum, and
attaining their maximum in the present seas. Most of these
genera, and even some of the species, pass through many
formations ; indeed, if correctly observed, they are the oldest
known living organisms. Dentalina communis, Orbito-
lites complanatus, Rosalina italica, and Rotalina globu-
losa, all living species, are said to be found in the chalk;
Rotalina umbilicata ranges to the gault; and Webbina
rugosa is common to the upper lias, the chalk, and pre¬
sent sea. It has, however, been observed that fossil Rhi-
zopods, set free by the disintegration of rocks, are mingled
with the recent shells on every beach ; and Mr M‘Andrew
has obtained them in this condition from great depths of the
mid-channel.
The earliest important form is the Fusulina (fig. 2, 5),
which forms layers many inches, or even feet, in thickness
in the carboniferous limestone of Russia. The recent
genera Dentalina and Textularia are found in the mag¬
nesian limestone ; Nodosaria, Cristellaria, and Rotalia, in
the lias. Flabellina (fig. 2, 6) is peculiar to the chalk ;
Orbitoides (fig. 2, 9) to the chalk and tertiary series ; Ovu-
lites (fig. 2, 10) is peculiar to the eocene tertiaries; Oper-
culina, Orbitolites, and Alveolina appear first in the ter¬
tiary, and are still living. The Lituola (fig. 2, 7) occurs
in the chalk and in chalk flints, and has been described as a
species of “ Spirolinite.” Many of the cretaceous Forami-
nifera contain a brown colouring matter, which remains
after the shell has been dissolved with weak acid, and has
been regarded as the remains of the animal substance which
once filled all the cells.
The “ calcaire grossier,” which is employed at Paris as a
building-stone, contains Foraminifera in such abundance
that one may say the capital of France is almost constructed
of those minute and complex shells.
But it is in the middle eocene, or “ nummulitic period,”
that the Rhizopods attained their greatest size, and played
their most important part. Wherever limestones or cal¬
careous sands of this period are met with, these Foraminifera
abound, and literally form strata which in the aggregate
become mountain masses. These “ nummulitic limestones”
are found in Southern Europe, in Northern Africa, and in
India ; they also occur in Jamaica. The commonest form
is the Nummulite (fig. 2, 8), which occurs in the building-
stone of the Great Pyramid. These Nummulites were evi¬
dently sedentary ; and in the large thin species, one side is
moulded to the inequalities of the sea-bed on which it grew.
Polycystinece.— I he tertiary marls of Barbadoes afibided
to Ehrenberg an extensive series of novel and extraordinary
microscopic organisms, composed of silica, but foraminated
like the shells of the Rhizopods. The same forms, and
others similar to them, have been met with in the deep-sea
mud of the Gulf of the Erebus and T error, and more re¬
cently in the mud of the Atlantic soundings. I hey are
quite distinct in form and character from most of the
silicious-shielded Diatomacece, but some of them resemble
the Coscinodiscus and Actinocyclus. No less than 282 forms,
grouped in 44 provisional genera, have been described.
Class III.—INFUSORIA.
{Polygastria, Ehrenberg.)
Numerous genera and multitudes of so-called species o1
free and locomotive microscopic organisms, which, because
they do not present the distinctive characters of plants or
animals, have been by turns referred to one or other
kingdom, possess shells of flint, and consequently enter Protozoa,
largely into the domain of fossil evidences of former life.
The silicious shells of these infusory organisms present
under the microscope the most definite as well as beautiful
characters of form and sculpture, which are as recognisable
and distinctive as those of the calcareous shells of Mollusca.
The plates of the incomparable works and memoirs of
Ehrenberg abound with exact figures of the delicate
sheaths, shells, and shields of the loricated Infusoria of
past and present seras of life, the deposits of which, by
reason of their pure, flinty, atomic constitution, were known
in the arts long before science had detected their nature
and vital origin. In 1836 portions of the stone called
“ tripoli ” or “ polierschiefer” (polishing-slate of lapidaries)
were microscopically examined by Ehrenberg, who dis¬
covered it to be wholly composed of the silicious shells of
Infusoria, and chiefly of an extinct species called Gaillon-
ella distans. At Bilin in Bohemia there is a single stra¬
tum of polierschiefer, not less than 14 feet thick, forming
the upper layer of a hill, in every cubic inch of which there
are forty-one thousand millions of the above-named organic
unit. This mineral likewise contains shells of Navicula,
Bacillaria, Actinocyclus, and other silicious organisms.
The lower part of the stratum consists of the shells com-
pacted together without any visible cement; in the upper
masses the shells are cemented together, and filled by
amorphous silicious matter formed out of dissolved shells.
At Egea in Bohemia there is a stratum of 2 miles in length,
and averaging 28 feet in thickness, of which the uppermost
10 feet, are composed wholly of the silicious shells of Infu¬
soria, including the beautiful Campylodiscus; the remain¬
ing 18 feet consist of the shells mixed with a pulverulent
substance. Corresponding deposits of the silicious cases of
Infusoria have since been discovered in many other parts of
the world, some including fresh-water species, others ma¬
rine species of Infusoria.
The conditions of such depositions will be readily under¬
stood by examining the sedimentary deposits of bogs and
stagnant or slow-flowing sheets of water. In warm lati¬
tudes and seasons, such water swarms with infusorial life,
and the indestructible cases of the loricated kinds are
found in great quantities in the sedimentary deposits. Be¬
neath peat bogs they have been found to form strata of
many feet in thickness, and co-extensive with the turbary,
forming a silicious marl of pure whiteness. A quantity of
pulverulent matter is deposited upon the shores of the lake
near Uranea in Sweden, which, from its extreme fineness,
resembles flour: this has long been known to the poorer in¬
habitants under the name of “berg-mehl,”or mountain-meal,
and is used by them, mixed up with flour, as an article ot
food. It consists in great part of silicious shells ot Infusoria,
with a little organic matter. With regard to the source of
fossil infusorial remains in sea-water, the following evidence
is given in the United. States Coast Survey, 1856:—
Soundings of the gulf-stream near Key Siscayne, Florida,
varying in depths from 147 fathoms to 205 fathoms, give
a light greenish-grey mud composed chiefly of Foraminifers,
Diatoms, Polycistins, and Geolites, in a profusion only sur¬
passed by the fossil polycistinous strata of Barbadoes. The
Foraminifers compose the largest part of these muds, in¬
cluding lextularia Americana, Marginula Rachei, and
other forms, particularly many species of the Plicatilia of
Ehrenberg, which had been supposed to live only in shal¬
lower haunts. The silicious shells of Diatoms abound
in the residue, after the calcareous Foraminifers have been
dissolved by acid. The inorganic portion of the soundings
is chiefly quartz sand, and its proportion is quite small.
Such manifestations of life, with its mineral results, have
been detected from the earliest sedimentary deposits to the
present time ; but as regards the Infusoria, they are given
on the grandest scale in formations of the tertiary age.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
95
Animalia. The town of Richmond in Virginia, United States, is
\a»v-w' built on barren silicious strata of marine origin and tertiary
age. The strata are 20 feet in thickness, composed chiefly
of infusorial flint-shells, including the well-known and beau¬
tiful microscopic objects, Actinocyclus and Coscinodiscus.
Most of the infusorial formations, as the polishing-slates
at Cassel, Planitz, and Bilin, are astounding monuments of
the operation of microscopic organisms at former periods of
the history of this planet. The minute size, elementary
structure, tenacity of life, and marvellous reproductive
power of the Infusoria have enabled them to survive as
species those destroying causes .which have exterminated
contemporaneous higher forms of organism. Species of Ba-
cillaria still exist which were in being at the period of the
deposition of the chalk. Existing species of
have been detected as low down as the oolite. The dis¬
covery by Ehrenberg of more than twenty species of sili-
cious-shelled Infusoria, fossil, in the chalk and chalk-marls,
which are identical in species with some now living in the
bed of the Baltic, is an instructive addition to the obscure
history of the introduction of species of living things in this
planet, and must add greatly to the interest of the infuso¬
rial class in the eyes of the geologist and philosopher.
“ For these organisms,” writes Ehrenberg, “ constitute a
chain which, though in the individual link it be microsco¬
pic, yet in the mass is a mighty one, connecting the life-
phenomena of distant ages of the earth, and proving that
the dawn of the organic nature co-existent with us reaches
further back in the history of the earth than had hitherto
been suspected.” “ The microscopic organisms are very
inferior in individual energy to lions and elephants, but in
their united influences they are far more important than
all these animals.” If it be ever permitted to man to pe¬
netrate the mystery which enshrouds the origin of organic
force in the wide-spread mud-beds of fresh and salt waters,
it will be by experiment and observation on the atoms
which manifest the simplest conditions of life.
ANIMALIA.
INYERTEBRATA,
fOSSIL INYERTEBRATA.
Remains of invertebrate animals occur in strata of every
age, from the partially metamorphic and crystalline rocks
of the Cambrian system to the deposits formed by the floods
of the last winter, and the tides of yesterday. They are
found in every country, from the highest latitude attained
by Arctic voyagers to the extremities of the southern conti¬
nents, and at the greatest elevation hitherto climbed in the
Andes or Himalaya. If some classes,—e.g., Tunicata, Aca-
lephce,—seem not to be represented in stratified deposits,
they are such as, either from the soluble and perishable
tissues composing the entire frame, could not be expected
to be fossilized under any conceivable circumstances; or
from the same cause, are only not so recognisable at one
of their metagenetic phases. Evidence of compound Hydro-
zoa,—i.e., of the polypes which Ellis called “ Corallines,”
—and especially of the genus Campanularia, would show
that the acalephal type and grade of organization had been
manifested at the period of the formation of the strata con¬
taining such fossil Polypi. With the above seeming ex¬
ceptions, every class of invertebrate animal is represented
by fossil remains.
They consist of corals and shells, of the petrified skeletons
of star-fishes and sea-urchins, of the hard coverings of crabs
and insects, of the tracks and shelly habitations of worms,
and of impressions of surfaces, and casts of cavities of or¬
ganisms, retained, after these have perished, by the matrix.
The condition in which invertebrate fossils occur depends Radiata.
on the nature of the matrix and other accidental circum-
stances ; for while some are scarcely altered in composition,
or even in colour, others are silicified or infiltrated with
carbonate of lime, Some may be cleared by the action of
acid or exposure to the weather, and some require the
chisel of the mason or the mill of the lapidary for the pro¬
per exhibition of their structure.
Multitudes of recent species are fossilized in the newer
tertiaries whose history can be made out perfectly from
living specimens; but the number of these diminishes gra¬
dually in each older stratum, while the proportion of extinct
forms is ever on the increase. No living species more
highly organized than a Rhizopod is found in the secondary
rocks. Recent genera extend further back in time; in¬
deed a few may be recognised in strata of palaeozoic age,
shedding a light on the probable affinities and conditions
of their associates. Many of the smaller groups of genera,
called families, disappear in the secondary, and still more
in the palaeozoic period, and are to a limited extent replaced
by groups which no longer exist. But, as to the larger
groups of Protozoa and true invertebrate anipials, it may
be affirmed that every known fossil belongs to some one
or other of the existing classes, and that the organic re¬
mains of the most ancient fossiliferous strata do not indi¬
cate or suggest that any earlier and different group of
beings remains to be discovered, or has been irretrievably
lost, in the universal metamorphism of the oldest rocks.
Province I.—RADIATA.1 *
Sub-Province POLYPI.
A polype is a small soft-bodied aquatic animal which
generally presents a soft cylindrical oval or oblong body,
with an aperture at one of its extremities, which is sur¬
rounded by a crown of radiating filaments or tentacles.”
This aperture leads to the digestive cavity, wflfich, in most
Polypes, is without intestine or vent. A very large propor¬
tion of these animals has organs of support, called “ poly¬
paries’3 or corals, of various forms and substance, but for
the most part consisting of carbonate of lime; and, as a
general rule, locomotion is lost with the development of
the polypary, which usually attaches the polype to some
foreign body. The organization of the soft tissues is in
general simple; the faculties of the Polypes are very limited;
and the vital phenomena, save those of irritability and con¬
tractility, are inconspicuous. Nevertheless, the influence
of the combined powers of somq of the species, in adding
to and modifying the crust of the earth, is neither slight
nor of limited extent.
Class I.—HYDROZQA.
—Polypary, when present, flexible, external i for the
most part developing qells for the polypes according to
regular patterns.
Family I.—Graptolitid^:.
To this class may probably belong the organic remains
called “ Graptolites,” which are exclusively and character¬
istically Silurian fossils. A certain knowledge of their affi¬
nities would require examination of the soft parts ; and the
family has long been extinct. Indications of the flexible
consistency of the polypary, and M. Barrande’s statement
of the existence of a cylindrical canal in its axis, which he
conjectures to have contained the common connecting tis¬
sue of the polypes, have weighed with the writer in placing
the Graptolites provisionally in the present class Polypi.
The axis of the polypary is sometimes straight (fig. 3, 3),
1 For the characteristic organization of the provinces, classes, orders, and families of Invertebrata, reference may be made to the
Writer’s Lectures on Invertebrata, 8vo, Longmans, 1855.
FALCON
sometimes spiral (fig. 3, 6). The ordinary form, as given by
the Graptolites priodon (fig. 3, 3), is serrated on one side
only, and is found abundantly in the Cambrian or older
Silurian beds of Scotland and Wales ; it occurs also in
the Ludlow rocks. The double Graptolites {Diplograpsus,
fig. 3, 5, and Didymograpsus, fig. 3, 4) are Cambrian forms.
Rastrites (fig. 3, 6) had the polypes only in one side, and
they are less crowded: it characterizes Barrande’s division
E of the lower Silurian beds of Bohemia, and has not yet
been found in Britain. The Graptolites occur in argilla¬
ceous strata, especially in the mud-stones of Wales^ and
Cumberland, and in the alum-slates of Sweden. These
beds remind one of the mud bottoms in which the Virgu-
laria and other long aud slender graptolite forms ot “ Pen-
natulidae” flourish in forest-like crowds. The primeval
Graptolite may have presented a more generalized polype
structure than is now met with in the specially differen¬
tiated Sertularians and sea-pens.
Fig. 3.
Hydrozoa ; Anthozoa ; Bryozoa.
1. Protovirgularia dichotoma, M‘C.5 Silurian, Dumfries.
2. Oldhamia antiqua, Forbes^ Cambrian, Wicklow.
3. Graptolites priodon, Brim.; Silurian, Britain.
4. Didymograpsus Murchisoni, Beck 5 L. Silurian, Wales.
5. Diplograpsus folium, His.; X. Silurian, Britain.
6. Rastrites peregrinus, Barr ; Silurian, Bohemia.
h, Coenites juniperinus, Eichw.; U. Silurian, Dudley.
8. Ptilodictya lanceolata, Lonsd.; U. Silurian, Tortworth.
9. Archimedipora Archimedea, Lesuer.; Carboniferous, Kentucky.
10. Ptilopora pluma, M‘C. ; Carboniferous, Ireland.
11. Fenestrella membranacea, Ph.; Carfconi/mms, Britain.
Class IL—ANTHOZOA.
In this class of Polypes the tentacles are hollow, and,
in most, with pectinated margins. The polypary is usually
internal, and forms the bodies more properly called “ corals
and “ madrepores.” „ . „
Asteroida.—Great doubt attaches to some of the fossils
referred to this class of Polypi. The terms “ Gorgonia” and
“ Alcyonium” have been applied to objects not well under¬
stood, and usually proving to be Bryozoa and sponges. I he
lower Silurian fossil called Pyritonema consists of a fasci¬
culus of silicious fibres, and has been supposed to be re¬
lated to the glass zoophyte (Hyalonema). ihe miocene
deposits of Piedmont contain a species of the Mediterranean
genus Coralliurn, an A ntipathes, and an Isis (or Isisina,
D’Orb.), which is also found in Malta. The London clay
contains one coral (Graphularia\ referred to the Pennatu-
lidce, and two Gorgonidce {Mopsea and Websteria).
Anthozoa or Actinoida. — The lamelliferous or stony
corals are (next to the Testaced) the largest and most im¬
portant class of invertebrate fossils. They attained a great
development in the earliest seas, and were perhaps more
widely diffused and individually abundant in the Silurian
age than at any subsequent period. “ Reef-building” corals
are now confined to warm seas, and are wanting even on
great tracts of tropical coast. The Oculina is the only large
coral now found in the north. But in palaeozoic times the
T 0 L 0 G Y.
representatives of the modern Astraeas and Caryophyllias Radiata.
extended as far northward as Arctic voyagers have pene-
trafed ; and at a much later period they formed reefs of con¬
siderable thickness and extent in the area of the coralline
oolite. The Silurian limestone of Wenlock Edge is itself
a coral reef thirty miles in length; and the Plymouth lime¬
stone and carboniferous limestone have frequently the aspect
of coral-banks skirting the older regions of Cambrian slate
and Devonian “killas.” The structure of coral-banks may
be studied in the lofty limestone cliffs of Cheddar, and in
the wave-worn shores of Lough Erne, as well as in the up-
heaved coral islands of the southern seas. In the fields
about Steeple-Ashton, every stone turned up by the plough
is a coral; and our inland quarries and chalk-pits afford to
the palaeontologist materials for the study of a class almost
wholly wanting on the present sea-shores of Europe. The
history of the British fossil corals, as given by Milne Ed¬
wards and Haime in the Transactions of the Palceontogra-
phical Society, exhibits, equally with that of the fossil
shells by other authors, a transition from a state very dif¬
ferent from that which now subsists in our part of the woild,
and a gradual approximation to the present order of things.
In the palaeozoic strata the corals belong chiefly to two
extinct orders; those of the secondary period more re¬
semble living corals of warmer climates than ours; and the
few tertiary genera and species resemble those of Southern
Europe and our own coast.
The distinction between one large group of the palaeozoic
Anthozoa [Cyathophyllidce) and more modern corals con¬
sists in the quadripartite character of their plaited cups or
stars, whereas the lamellae (or septa) of the other families
are developed in multiples of 6. A remarkable exception
exists in the Holocystis (fig. 5, 8), an Astrea-like coral with
quadripartite stars, which is found in the lower gieensand.
The old-rock corals are also remarkable for the manner in
which they are partitioned off by horizontal “ tabulae” (fig.
4, 3), like the septa of the Nautilus and Spondylus. This
character obtains not only in the Cyathophyllidcs, but also in
the Milleporidce, Favositidce, and other palaeozoic families. Of
the 129 Silurian corals, 121 belong to the tabulated divisions.
Fig. 4.
Palasozoic Corals (Anthozoa).
1. Amplexus Sowerbyi, Ph. ; Carboniferous, Ireland.
2. Cyathophyllum turbinatum, Lin. ; U. Silurian, Wenloc .
3. Cyathophyllum subturbinatum (section); U. Silurian, Wenlock.
4. Cystiphyllum Siluriense, Lonsd.; U. Silurian, Wenlock.
3. Zaphrentis Phillipsi, M. Edw.; Carboniferous, Somerset.
6. Lithodendron irregulare, Ph.; Carboniferous, Europe.
7. Lithostrotion striatum, Plem.; Carboniferous, Europe.
8. Acervularia luxurians, Eich.; U. Silurian, Europe.
9. Heliolites interstincta, Wahl.; [7. Silurian, Europe.
10. Syringopora ramulosa, Goldf.; Carboniferous, Europe.
XX. Halysites catenulatus, L.; Silurian, Northern Regions.
12. Favosites Gothlandica, Lam.; Silurian, North.
The Devonian system contains about 150 described
corals, the carboniferous limestone 76, and the magnesian
limestone only 5 or 6. The commonest forms of simple,
turbinated corals are Cyathophyllum (fig. 4, 2 and 3),
PAL^EON
Radiata. which exhibits four slight fossulce in its cup, and is often
s r v—> supported by root-like processes. In Zaphrentis (fig. 4, 5)
there is but one deep fossula. Amplexus (fig. 4, 1) is a cha¬
racteristic carboniferous fossil, nearly cylindrical, and often
so straight and regular in its growth as to have been ori¬
ginally described as a chambered shell. The radiating
septa are very slight, and the horizontal partitions simple,
flat, and almost as regular as the septa of the Orthocerns.
In the Silurian Cystiphyllum (fig. 4, 4) the lamellae are also
evanescent; but the tabula are represented by numerous
vesicular plates. The corals of these genera are not always
solitary, or merely in groups; some species oiCyaihophyllum
constantly form compound masses, with cups rendered poly¬
gonal by contact, like C. regium of the Bristol limestone.
The allied genus Acervularia (fig. 4, 8) resembles an As-
trcea, and exhibits in a remarkable manner the multiplica¬
tion of its corallites by calicular gemmation. The genus
Lithoslrotion (fig. 4, 7) of the carboniferous limestone is also
compact and astrseiform, but the new corallites are produced
by lateral gemmation. Corals with the same structure,
but not compact, are known by the name Lithodendron
(fig.4,6). The “chain-coral” {Halysites, fig. 4, 1 i)and Syrin-
gopora (fig. 4, 10) resemble at first sight the recent asteroid
Tubiporida: in Halysites the radiating septa are quite
rudimentary; and in Syringopora the tabulae are funnel-
shaped, forming a central axis to each tube. The Favo-
sitidce (fig. 4, 12) are mostly very regular both as to their
polygonal shape and transverse tabulae; the cells of adja¬
cent corallites are connected by pores, either in the sides
or angles of the walls; the septa are rudimentary. In the
genus Chcetetes the tubes are always slender, and much
elongated, and their walls imperforate. Michelinia re¬
sembles the fruit of the Nelumbium ; it has vesicular
tabulae and root-like processes to its basal plate. Helio-
lites (fig. 4, 9), of which many species are found in the
Silurian and Devonian limestones, is related to the recent
Milleporas. The radiating septa are distinct, and the
tabulae regular; the interspaces between the stars are
filled up with fine and regular tubes. One genus of
Fungidce [Palceocyclus) occurs in the upper Silurian.
Fig. 5.
Secondary and Tertiary Corals (Anthozoa').
X. Turbinolia sulcata, Lam.; M. Eocene, Europe.
2. Diploctenium lunatum, Brug.; Chalk, France.
3. Micrabacia coronula, Goldf.; U. Greensand, Europe.
4. Aspidiscus cristatus, Lam.; Cretaceous(?), Algeria.
5. Cyclolites elliptica, Lam. ; L. Chalk, France.
6. Parasmilia centralis, Mant.; U. Chalk, England.
7. Pachygyra labyrintbica, Mich.; L. Chalk, France.
o. Holocystis elegans, Lonsd.; L. Greensand, Isle of Wight.
9. Montlivaltia caryophyllata, Lam.; Great Oolite, France.
10. Stylina De la Bechei, M. Edw.; Corallian, Wilts.
XI. Thecosmilia annularis, Flem.; Corallian, Wilts.
The British secondary corals are not very numerous; for
although specimens abound in the coral-rag districts, only
14 species are found in that formation. Altogether, 65
species are found in the English oolites, and 22 in
the chalk and greensands. These are mostly Astraidce,
VOL. XVII.
T 0 L O G Y. 97
or related to Fungia. Three common forms in the Radiata.
oolites are Montlivaltia (fig. 5, 9), Stylina (fig. 5, 10),
and Thecosmilia (fig. 5, 11). The English cretaceous
strata afford the Holocystis (fig. 5, 8), which is the most
recent coral with quadripartite septa; Trochocyathus and
Parasmilia (fig. 5, 6), resembling the recent Cyathina ;
and the little “Fungia” coronula (fig. 5, 3), described in
two genera of distinct orders {Micrabacia and Stephano-
phyllid) in the Monograph of the Palaeontographical Society.
The lower chalk of France and Germany contains many
other corals, especially Cyclolites (fig. 5, 5), Pachygyra,
(fig. 5, 7), and Diploctenium (fig. o, 2). The Aspidiscus
(fig. 5, 4) w'as sent by Dr Shaw from Algeria.
The English eocene strata contain 25 corals, all extinct,
and belonging to 15 genera. These include an Astrcea
{Litharcea Websteri), which grows on the water-worn flint
pebbles; a Balanophyllia, similar to the existing coral;
a Dendrophyllia, which is the oldest member of the genus;
an Oculina; and 8 species of the genus Turbinolia (fig.
5, 1). The corals of the English pliocene are mostly
Bryozoa; only four true corals have been found in the
coralline crag, belonging to the genera Sphenotrochus,
Flabellum, Cryptangia, and Balanophyllia, all reputed
extinct, although the first is very closely related to the
living Sphenotrochus Macandreivi.
The total number of fossil corals enumerated by M.
D’Orbigny in the Prodrome de Paleontologie amounts to
1135, grouped under 216 genera. But notwithstanding
all the labour which has been bestowed on this branch of
palaeontology by Goldfuss, Michelin, Lonsdale, and Milne
Edwards, species are continually discovered or brought
home from abroad which are altogether new, and cannot
be placed in any of the constituted genera.
Class III.—BRYOZOA.
Char.—Tentacles of the polype hollow, with ciliated mar¬
gins; alimentary canal with stomach, intestine, and anus;
polypary, when present, external, horny, and calcareous.
The metamorphoses which the Bryozoa undergo are
like those of the lower Polypi; the emhryo developed from
the ovum is an oval, discoid, or subdepressed body, with a
general or partial ciliated surface, by which it enjoys a
brief locomotive life after its liberation from the parent.
The Bryozoa are allied to the compound Ascidia; hut not
one of the ascidian Molluscoids quits the ovum as a gemmule
swimming by means of cilia; and no Bryozoon quits the
ovum in the guise of a Cercarian or tadpole, to swim abroad
by the alternate inflexions of a caudal appendage. In a
progressive and continuous series of teachings, by pen or
word of mouth, the place of an osculant or transitional
group is governed by convenience, by considerations of
how best to teach by comparison and easy gradation. The
real merits of the man who would make scientific capital
by changing the position of such group, and by imputing
error or ignorance to the author from whom he may differ
in this respect, are easily weighed and soon understood.
The Bryozoa, whether regarded as the highest organized
Polypes, or as the lowest organized Mollusca, or as an
intermediate type, are treated of in systematic palaeonto¬
logy in the position here assigned to them. The practical
palaeontologist finds himself compelled to arrange and study
the fossil Bryozoa with the corals, if only on account
of the difficulty he in many cases experiences of determin¬
ing to which class of Polypi his specimens belong. M.
D’Orbigny, who has devoted much attention to this class,
enumerates 544 fossil species, distributed in 73 genera.
This number must be very far below the real one, since
the Bryozoa of the chalk, which alone have been careiully
examined, amount to 213 species; while only two species
are known from the trias, none at all from the lias, and
N
98 PAL,EONr.
Radiata. only five from the upper oolites, so rich in corals and
■V"*-'' sponges. In the Cours Elementaire, the fossil Bryozoa
are stated to amount to 1676.
Of the 19 or 20 palaeozoic genera, none extend
into the secondary strata; but of the 18 oolitic genera,
Entalophora and Defrancia range onwards to the ter-
tiaries; and Alecto, Idmenea, and Eschara still sur¬
vive. The oldest known fossil, Oldhamia (fig. 3, 2), is
supposed to be a Bryozoon. The most common palaeo¬
zoic form is Fenestrdla (fig. 3, n), resembling the recent
“ lace-coralthere are 35 species, ranging from the lower
Silurian to the Permian. One of its modifications resembles
a feather (Ptilopora, fig. 3, 10), and is found in the car¬
boniferous limestone. Another, more remarkable, has a
spiral axis (Archimedipora, fig. 3, 9), and occurs in the
same formation in Kentucky. One of the oldest genera is
Ptilodictya (fig. 3, 8), of which 7 species are found
in the lower Silurian formations. The slabs of Silurian
limestone obtained at Dudley are covered with myriads of
small and delicate fossils, including many Bryozoa. Some
of these are spread like a film over other fossils, and have
been doubtfully referred to the modern genera Discopora
and Berenicea; others, with slender branches, and erect
or creeping, are called Milleporas, Heteroporas, and Escha-
rinas. The genus Comites (fig. 3, 7) perhaps belongs
here. The magnesian limestone contains several large
“lace-corals” of the genera. Fenestrella, Synocladia, and
Phyllophora; and two branching species of Thamniscus
and Acanthocladia. The oolites afford many small in-
crusting species related to Diastopora, and branching
forms like Terebellaria and Chrysaora. In the chalk,
the Escharas are most numerous, and Lunulites and Cu-
pularia first appear. Some thin beds of the lower chalk
are almost composed of Bryozoa, mingled with horami-
nifera. The coralline crag of Suffolk takes its name from
the great abundance of Bryozoa it contains, among which
Eschara, Cellepora, Fascicularia, Theonoa, Hornera,
Idmonea, Flustra, and Tubulipora are the most important.
Class IV.—ECHINODERMATA.
(Star-Fishes, Sea- Urchins.)
Char.—Marine ; commonly free, repent animals, with the
integument in most perforated by erectile tubular ten¬
tacles, hardened by a reticulate deposit of calcareous
salts, and in many armed with spines.
The fossil Radiata present a mine of comparatively un¬
exhausted richness to the palaeontologist. More difficult of
study than shells, and less uniformly present in all strata,
the enduring remains of Echinodermata and corals are un¬
surpassed in beauty of form and structure, and in the value
of the evidence they afford.
The present summary of the extinct forms of Echino¬
dermata will commence with
Order 1.—Crinoidea.
Char.—Body with ramified rays, supported temporarily or
permanently on a jointed calcareous stem ; alimentary
canal, with mouth and vent, both, as in Bryozoa, ap¬
proximated.
The “ stone-lilies,” or crinoid star-fishes, formed a nu¬
merous and important group in the palaeozoic seas, where
they obtained their maximum number and variety. M.
D’Orbigny describes 31 palaeozoic genera, 2 triassic, 10
oolitic, and 4 cretaceous—of which latter 3 (Pentacrinus,
Bourgueticrinus, and Comatuld) are found in the tertiaries
and modern seas. The Crinoidea differ from the other
O L O G Y.
Fig. 6.
Crinoidea ; Blastoidea ; Cystoidea.
1. Sphoeronites aurantium, Wahl.; L. Silurian, Sweden.
2. Pseudocrinus bifasciatus, Pearce; C7. Silurian, Dudley.
3. Pentremites florealis, Say ; Carboniferous, Ohio.
а. Crotalocrinus rugosus, Mill.; U» Silurian, Dudley.
c. Poteriocrinus (joint of column); Carboniferous9 Yorkshire.
б. Encrinus entrocha; L, Muschelkalk, Germany.
7. Apiocrinus Parkinsoni, Mill.; Bradford Clay.
8. Pentacrinus basaltiformis, Mill.; Lias, Lyme.
9. Marsupites ornatus, Mill.; Chalk, Sussex.
base. Nearly all the genera, except Covfiatulci and Mur*
supites (fig. 6, 9), appear to have been attached either by
the expanded base of the column, as in Apiocrinus, or by
jointed processes, as in Bourgueticrinus. In many instances
the lower part of the column throws out innumerable loot-
]ike side-arms, which strengthen and support it. The
column is comparatively short in Apiocrinus Parhinsom,
and extremely elongated in Pentacrinus Hiemeri. It is
round in nearly all the palaeozoic Crinoids ; and when five¬
sided, the articular surfaces of the joints are simply radiated,
as in the rest. These joints are perforated in the centre,
and when detached, are the “ St Cuthbert s beads of story
(fig. 6, 5).1 In Platycrinus the stem is compressed, and the
articular surfaces are elliptical. In the genus Pentacrinus,
which commences in the lias, the sculpturing of the arti¬
culations is more complex (fig. 6, 8), but it is quite simple
in the other modern genera. The body of the Crinoid is
composed of polygonal plates forming a cup, which is
covered by a canopy of smaller plates. The mouth is often
proboscidiform ; the anal orifice is near it. The five arms
which crown the cup are sometimes nearly simple, but
feathered with slender, jointed fingers; in other geneia
they divide again and again, dichotomously; and in two
remarkable Silurian forms, Anthocrinus and Crotalocrinus
(fig. 6, 4), these subdivisions are extremely numerous, and
the successive ossicles are articulated to each other latei-
ally, forming web-like expansions, similar in appealance to
the coral Fenestrella (fig. 3, 11.) Other remarkable Silu¬
rian Crinoids belong to the genera Glyptocrinus, Eucalyp-
tocrinus, Geocrinus (the “ Dudley Encrinite ), and Caryo-
crinus. Several are common to the Silurian and Devonian,
as Melocrinus, Cyathocrinus, and Rhodocrinus; the two
last, and Poteriocrinus, extend into the carboniferous foi-
mations. Cupressocrinus and some others are peculiarly
Devonian ; Platycrinus, common to Devonian and coal
formations; and many genera (including the “ nave Encri¬
nite,”—Actinocrinus, Gilbertsocrinus, and Woodocrinus),
are proper to the carboniferous limestone. I he famous
“ lily Encrinite ” (Encrinus entrocha, fig. 6, 6) is charac¬
teristic of the middle trias, or “ muschel-kalk ;” the “ clove
Encrinite” (Eugeniacrinus, fig. 7, 9) abounds in the Ox-
1 Casts, in chert, of the canal which passes down the crinoidal column are called “ screw-stones; and those limestones which abou
in columns and detached joints are called “ entrochal marbles.”
FALCON
Radiata. fordian oolites of Germany ; Apiocrmus, Millericrinus, and
. several forms related to Comatula,—e.g., Pterocoma and
Saccosoma,—are also peculiarly oolitic. 1 he “ tortoise
Encrinite” {Marsupites, fig. 6, 9) is found only in the chalk,
along with Bourgueticrinus (fig. 7, 10); and the bodies
of Comatulce, which, when they have lost their arms and
claspers, are called “Glenotremites.” (Fig. 7, 7, upper
surface with sockets of the five arms; 8 under surface,
showing articulations of claspers, and the scar of the larval
stem.)
Order 2.—Cystoidea.
This order was established by Von Buch for a small
group of palaeozoic Echinoderms formerly included with
the Crinoidea. They have a globular body covered
with close-fitting polygonal plates attached by a simple,
jointed stem. The mouth is minute, and opposite to
the stalk ; close to it is the small anal opening; and a
little more distant the generative orifice, covered by a
pyramid of five or six little valves. Some of the genera,
like Pseudocrinus (fig. 6, 2), have two or four tentaculifer-
ous arms, bent down over the body and lodged in grooves,
to which they are anchylosed. Others, like the Sphceronites
(fig. 6, 1), have only obscure indications of tentacles
situated close to the mouth. In Pseudocrinus and some
other genera two or three pairs of lamellated organs, called
pectinated rhombs, are placed on the contiguous margins of
certain body-plates. They are supposed not to penetrate
the interior, and no office has been conjecturally assigned
to them; but Professor Forbes suggested that they might
represent the “ epaulettes ” of the larval Echinidce, to
which group he supposed the Cystidean bore the same re¬
lation as the Crinoids hold to the star-fishes. There are 9
genera, of which 8 are found in the British strata—4 in
the upper and 4 in the lower Silurian.
Order 3.—Blastoidea.
A separate order has been proposed for another small
group of palaeozoic fossils typified by Pentremites (fig. 6,
3). The body is globular or elliptical, and supported on a
small, jointed stalk, with radiated articular surfaces and
irregular side-arms. It is composed of solid polygonal
plates, with a minute oral orifice at the summit surrounded
by five other openings, four of which are double and ova¬
rian, the fifth rather larger and anal. There are five peta-
loid ambulacra of variable length, converging to the mouth,
furrowed down the centre, and striated across. According
to the observations of Dr Ferdinand Rcemer, these supported
numerous slender, jointed tentacula, indicated by the rows
of marginal pores. One species is found in the upper Silu¬
rian, 6 in the Devonian, and 24 in the carboniferous, which
has received the name of “ pentremite limestone ” in the
United States, on account of the abundance of these fossils
it contains.
Order 4.— AsteROIDEA.
(Sea-Stars, Brittle Stars.)
Char.—Body radiate ; integument hardened by calcareous
pieces, and more or less armed with spines ; no dental
apparatus.
Asteriadce and Ophiuridce.—Fossil star-fishes, though
less common, have a wider range than their allies the fossil
urchins, being found amongst the earliest organic forms.
P alee aster, Protaster (fig. 7, 6), and Lepidaster (fig. 7, 3),
are Silurian star-fishes, presenting many anomalies, and
scarcely referable to any existing families. Tropidaster,
Pleuraster, Aspidura, Ophiurella, and Amphiura are
oolitic genera; Ophiodermea, Luidia, and Astropecten
range from the lias to the present seas; Stellaster and
T 0 L O G Y. 99
Fig. 7.
Galeritidee ; Asteriadce ; Crinoidea.
I. Pygaster semisuleatus, Ph.; Inf. Oolite, Cheltenham.
2 Ananchytes ovatus, Lam.; U. Chalk, Europe.
3. Galerites albogalerus, Lam. ; U. Chalk, Kent.
4. Scutella subrotunda; Miocene, Malta.
5. Lepidaster Grayi, Forbes ; U. Silurian, Dudley.
6. Protaster Miltoni, Salter; L. Ludlow rock, Salop.
7. Comatula (Glenotremites), upper surface of body.
8. Comatula (lower surface) ; Chalk, Sussex.
9. Eugeniacrinus quinquedactylus, Schl.; Oxfordian, Wurtemberg.
10. Bourgueticrinus ellipticus, Mill.; CAaifc, Kent.
Astrogonium, Oreaster, and Goniodiscus are both cretace¬
ous and living.
Order 5.—Echinoidea.
(Sea-urchins.)
Char.—Body spheroid or discoid, incased in a crust of in¬
flexibly-joined calcareous plates, and armed with spines ;
dental system complex, arranged so as to resemble a
“ lantern.”
The Echinoidea appear first in the carboniferous lime¬
stone, and attain their maximum in the cretaceous strata.
In all secondary and more modern Echinidce, the shell is
composed of five double rows of ambulacral plates, and five
inter-ambulacral; but in the Palcechinus (fig. 8, 1), of the
carboniferous limestone there are six rows of inter-ambu¬
lacral plates, and in Perischodomus five. Only detached
plates of Archceocidaris (fig. 8, 2) have been seen, and
Fig. 8.
Echinidce; Spatangidce.
j. Palsechinus sphserieus, Scouler ; Carboniferous, Ireland.
2. Archseocidaris ITrii, Flem.; Carboniferous, Ireland.
3. Cidaris glandifera, Goldf. (spine) 5 Jura, Mount Carmel.
4. Hemicidaris intermedia, Flem.; Corallian, Caine.
5. Salenia petalifera, Desm.; U. Greensand, Wilts.
6. Disaster ringens, Ag.; Inferior Oolite, Dorset.
n. Hemipneustes Greenovii, Forbes; U. Greensand, Blackdown.
8. Catopygus carinatus, Goldf.; V. Greensand, Wilts.
these, by their six-sided form, seem also to have been ar¬
ranged in more than double series. Normal Echinidse, of
the existing genus Cidaris, abound in the upper trias.
100
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Radiata. Some of the secondary species of Cidaris have the ambula-
cral pores widely separated (= Rhabdocidaris) ; in others
the rows of pores are doubled ( = Diplocidans). The
genus Hemicidaris (fig. 8, 4), distinguished by the large
spine-bearing tubercles on the lower part of the ambulacra,
ranges from the trias to the chalk-marl. Diademce, with
smooth, solid spines ( = Hemidiadema), appear in the lias,
and continue to the chalk, where the modern type, with
annulated, hollow spines, appears. Echinopsis also occurs
in the lias ; and Acrosalenia, a genus characteristic of the
oolites, and distinguished from Salenia by its perforated
tubercles. Acrocidaris and Heliocidaris, with Glypticus,
and several other sub-genera of Echinus, are also peculiar
to the oolites. Salenia (fig. 8, 5), with its ornamental disk,
is characteristically cretaceous. Arbacia&nd Temnopleurus
appear first in the eocene. The CassidulidcE commence
in the oolites, with Pygaster (fig. 7, 1) and Holectypus,
and abound in the cretaceous system. Galentes (fig. 7, 3)j
Discoidea, Pyrina, and Cassidulus are peculiar to the chalk.
The Clypeastridce are represented in the oolites by numer¬
ous species of Echinolampas and Nucleolites (or Clypeus) ;
the latter genus attains a large size. The sub-genus Cato-
pygus (fig. 8, 8) is peculiar to the cretaceous series. Cono-
clypeus occurs in the chalk and tertiaries. Clypeaster
flourished most in the miocene age ; many large species are
found in the south of Europe, Madeira, and the West
Indies. Numerous genera, remarkable for their flattened
form, and popularly known as “ cake-urchins,’ are pe¬
culiar to the tertiaries and existing seas. Lenita and
Scutellina are eocene; Scutella (fig. 7, 4) miocene.
Mellita and Echinarachnius are both fossil and recent.
The heart-shaped urchins (Spatangidai), are only remotely
represented in the oolites by Disaster (fig. 8, 6); they are
numerous in the chalk, to which Micraster, Hemipneustes
(fig. 8, 7), Archiacia, Holaster, and Ananchytes (fig. 7, 2),
are peculiar. Hemiaster is cretaceous and tertiary. Spa-
tangus, Eupatagus, Erissus, Amphidotus, and Schizaster
are tertiary and recent forms.
The shell of the Echinodermata has the same intimate
structure in all the orders and families, and in every pait of
the skeleton, whether “ test,” or “ spine,” or “ tooth.” The
smallest plates resemble bits of perforated card-board, and
the largest and most solid are formed of a repetition of
similar laminae. In a few membranous structures, minute
s picul a, curved, bi-hamate, or anchor-shaped, are met with.
They are always composed of carbonate of lime ; but owing
to their porosity, fossil examples are commonly impregnated
with earth, or pyrites, or silica, and form bad subjects for
microscopic investigation. Without, however, losing their
oroanic structure, the fossil Echinoderms exhibit a cleavage
like that of calcareous spar, by which the smallest ossicle of
star-fish or Crinoid may be recognised: this peculiarity is
most strikingly obvious in the great spines oi the Cidans^
(fi<>-. 8, 3), or the enlarged column of the “ pear Encrinite
(fi*. 6,’ 7). Examples of the latter may be seen which had
been crushed when recent, and before the sparry structure
was superinduced.
the anchor of a Synapta from a still older formation,—the Articulata.
upper oolite of Bavaria.1 Microscopic observers will doubt- v-^
less meet with many such detached plates and spines
when searching for Pol ycystineae and other Rhizopods in
the oolitic and cretaceous strata j but it is scarcely pro¬
bable that the order has dated far back in time.
Order 6.—Holothurioidea.
{Sea-Cucumbers, Trepang.)
Char.—Body vermiform; integument flexible, with scat¬
tered reticulate calcareous corpuscles, or beset with sma
anchor-shaped spicula.
The Holothurioid order presents scarcely any examples
likely to be met with in a fossil state, except the genus
Psolus, of whose imbricated shield a fragment has been
found by Mr Richmond in the northern drift of Bute.
Count Munster has figured the microscopic plates, appa¬
rently of a Ilolothuria, from the chalk of Warminster ; and
Province II.—ARTICULATA.
In the great division of invertebrate animals called Arti¬
culata the brain is in the form of a ring encircling the
gullet. A double ganglion above the tube supplies the
chief organs of sense. The ganglions below the tube are
connected with two chords which extend along the ventral
surface of the abdomen, and are in most species united at
certain distances by double ganglions, which are connected
with the nerves supplying the body segments and their
appendages. The body presents a corresponding symme¬
trical form. The skeleton is external, and consists of arti¬
culated segments of a more or less annular form. The arti¬
culated limbs, in the species possessing them, have a like
condition of the hard parts, in the form of a sheath which
incloses the muscles. The jaws, when present, are lateral,
and move from side to side.
The worm, the lobster, the scorpion, and the beetle ex¬
emplify this province.
The articulate division of the animal kingdom, most uni¬
versally distributed and numerically abundant at the pre¬
sent day, is least perfectly represented amongst the relics
of the former world. Their chitinous integuments, often
hardened with earthy salts, are quite as capable of preser¬
vation as the shells of the Alollusca, and remains of them
are met with in all aqueous deposits 5 but that manifold,
complex organization, which in the recent state fits them so
admirably for generic and specific comparisons, is fatal to
their entire preservation, and the fossil examples are often
so fragmentary as to admit of little more than the deter¬
mination of their class and family.
The most ancient fossiliferous rocks bear imprints which
have been regarded as the tracks and burrows of marine
worms. With these are found Crustacea of the lowest divi¬
sion, and of a group which is wholly extinct. A little later
appear the Phyllopods, Copepods, and other existing orders
of Entomostraca. Only a few obscure forms, doubtfully re¬
ferred to the higher division Malacostraca, have been found
in the carboniferous and Permian systems. Ihesecondaiy
strata contain abundant remains of Isopods, and of lobsters
and hermit-crabs. True crabs {Erachyurd) abound in the
oldest tertiaries. Air-breathing insects and Arachnida^ex-
isted even in the palaeozoic age ; the “ sombre shades of
the carboniferous forests were not “ uncheered by the hum
of insects nor were the insects blind, like those which
now inhabit the vast caverns of Kentucky and Carniola.
The Articulata which come latest are the Cirripedes,
whose lowest family appears in the lias; while the Ealanidce
are only found in the tertiaries.
The number of fossil Articulata catalogued and described
forms but a very small proportion of those which have pro¬
bably existed. Bronn enumerates 1551 fossil insects: 131
Arachnida, 894 Crustacea, and 292 Anellida. Darwin de¬
scribes 69 fossil Cirripedes, 12 of which are living species.
Class I.—ANELLIDA.
( Worms, Tube-Worms, Nereids.)
Char.—Body soft, symmetrical, vermiform, annulated, with
suckers, or setae, or setigerous tube-feet; blood of a red
colour in most.
1 Beitrage, heft 6, 18-13.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
101
Articulata. The peculiar markings on the surface of the old Cam-
y ^—> brian slate rocks, conjectured to afford the earliest indica¬
tions of the existence of marine worms, are not without
suspicion as to their origin. The so-called “ Nereites bear
considerable resemblance to other equally ancient impres¬
sions which have been described as Zoophytes, under the
name of Protovirgularia (fig. 3, i). No such doubt at¬
taches to the worm-tracks which abound in the thin-bedded
sandy strata of the forest-marble; and the “ Cololites of
the lithographic limestone are most probably the castings of
worms. Long calcareous tubes occur in the upper Silurian
and carboniferous strata, which have received the name of
Serpulites. The Microconchus of the carboniferous period
is now regarded as an Anellide 5 and in all the later foima-
tions, tubicolar Anellides, especially of the genera Serpula,
Spirorbis, and Vennilia abound. Some of these, although
attached and gregarious, are so regular in their growth as
to have been usually called Vermeti, but are now placed
in the genus Vermicularict. Spiroglyphus, and some other
shell-excavators, are indicated in the tertiaries. Amongst
the problematic fossils of the palaeozoic strata, two are sup¬
posed to be anellidous,—viz., the Tentaculiles (fig. 10, 7)?
which was apparently free, and almost always regular in its
growth, so as more to resemble one of the gregarious Ptero-
pods; and the Cornulite (fig. 10, 8), which is attached
when young, singly or in groups, to Silurian shells and
corals : the structure of its shell is vesicular, and the cavity
resembles a series of inverted cones. The unattached and
gregarious Ditrupa appears in the upper chalk, and abounds
in the London clay and crag.
Class II.—CIRRIPEDJA.
{Barnacles, Acorn-Shells.)
Char.—Body chitinous or chitino-testaceous, Subarticu¬
lated, mostly symmetrical, with aborted antennae and
eyes ; thorax attached to the sternal surface of the
carapace, with six pairs of multiarticulate, biramous, seti-
gerous limbs; metamorphosis resulting in a permanent
parasitic attachment of the fully-developed female to
some foreign body.
The fossil Cirripedes belong chiefly to the sessile division,
and consist of the ordinary forms of the still-existing Bala-
nid(B. They are rare in the eocene tertiary, but more
abundant afterwards. The Balanus porcatus attains a
great size in the shelly beds of northern drift; its large
basal plate, when detached, is a puzzling fossil, and has
caused some mistakes. A Coronula has been found in
the middle division of the crag which has afforded so many
cetaceous bones. Remains of pedunculated Cirripedes
occur in older deposits, but are mostly scarce and frag¬
mentary. A species of Pollicipes is found adhering to
drift-wood, perforated by bivalves, in the lias; another
occurs in the Oxford clay, attached in groups to drift¬
wood, and the shells of Ammonites, which probably floated
in the sea after death. The chalk affords many species of
Pollicipes and Scalpellum, a species of the anomalous genus
Verruca, and the only extinct genus of Cirripedes—Loricula
(fig. 10, 6). This remarkable fossil is found attached to
Ammonites, and exhibits only one side in any of the exam¬
ples hitherto found. In this unsymmetrical development and
the imbrication of its valves it more resembles Verruca than
any other Cirriped. “During the deposition of the great
cretaceous system, the Lepadidce arrived at their culminant
point: there were then three genera, and at least thirty-
two species;” whereas at the present day the Philippine
Archipelago, which is the richest marine province, affords
but five species.
Class III.—CRUSTACEA.
Char.—Body articulated, with articulated limbs ; head with
antennae; branchial respiratory organs ; sexes distinct;
metamorphosis in most, in none resulting in fixed indi¬
viduals.
Articulata.
Sub-Class 1.—ENTOMOSTRACA.
Char.—Body with more or fewer segments than fourteen ;
integument chitinous, forming in some a bivalve shell;
eyes sessile.
Small bivalve entomostracous Crustacea are found in
all strata, and attain their maximum size in the older rocks.
Minute Ostracoda, related to the recent Cypris (fig. 10, 5),
swarm in the laminated fresh-water clays of the Wealden ;
Fig. 9.
Palaeozoic Entomostraca.
1. Leperditia Baltica, Wahl.; U. Silurian, Gothland.
2. Entomoconchus Scouleri, M‘C.; Carboniferous, Ireland.
3. Beyriehia complicata, Salter; L. Silurian, Wales.
4. Dithyrocaris Scouleri, M‘C.: Carboniferous, Ireland.
3. Pterygotus Anglicus, Ag.; Old Red Sandstone, Ludlow.
6. Bellinurus bellulus, Kdnig.; Carboniferous, Coalbrookdale.
7. Illaenus Davisii, Salter; L. Silurian, Bala.
[ 8. Phacops caudatus, Brun.; U. Silurian, Dudley.
9, Calymene Blumenbachii, Br.; U. Silurian, Dudley.
10. Trinucleus ornatus, Sternb.; L. Silurian, Britain.
11. Agnostus trinodus, Salter ; L. Silurian, Britain.
whilst the marine Cytheridce assist with their multitudinous
atoms in building up the chalk. Amongst the Phyllopods,
the gregarious Estheria covers the slabs of Wealden and
of Keuper with crowds of bivalve shells which have been
commonly mistaken for Cyclades and PosidonomycB. The
globose Entomoconchus (fig. 9, 2) is found in the carboni¬
ferous limestone ; Leperditia (fig. 9, 1) in the Silurian locks
of the north ; and Beyrichia (fig-9, 3), which is character¬
istically Silurian, may be distinguished from the young
forms of Trilobites by the unsymmetrical shape of its sepa¬
rated valves. Other palaeozoic Phyllopods {Ceratiocaris
and Hymenocaris) related to the recent JSebaha, and
having a conspicuous tail, occur in the upper and lower
Silurian strata ; the genus Leptocheles (M‘C.) was founded
on the tail-spines of these Crustacea. Dithyrocaris (fig.
9 4) which resembles the recent Apus vn. the horizontal
compression of its carapace, is found in the carboniferous
limestone. The lower coal measures also contain in their
nodules of clay-ironstone frequent examples of Bellinurus
(fio-. 9, 6), a small Pcecilopod, differing from the recent
king-crab {Limulus) in the moveable condition of the body-
seo-ments. But the most extraordinary of the palaeozoic
Crustacea are the Eurypterus, Himantopterus, and Ptery¬
gotus (fig. 9, 51), from the upper Silurian and old red
sandstone, of which some far surpassed the largest living
lobster or king-crab in size. They have been considered
an extinct family, related to the Limuli; or as the repre-
1 This figure (by Mr Salter), as well as several others, are taken from the Siluria of Sir R. Murchison, P.G.S.
102 P A L iE O N
Articulata. sentatives of the larval condition of the stalk-eyed Mala-
costraca. But the following structures show an affinity to
the Ostracoda. Their carapace is comparatively small, with
compound eyes on the antero-lateral margins ; the body
segments are eleven or twelve in number, without append¬
ages, and terminated by a pointed or bilobed tail. Euryp-
terus has eight feet; the others have three pairs of limbs,
—viz., the chelate antennae, the foot-jaws, and the natatory
feet, with their fin-like palettes, which spring from the
under side of their cephalo-thorax. The surface of the
body and limbs often presents a peculiar imbricated sculp¬
ture, which caused them at one time to be regarded as
fishes by Agassiz. The Ptcrygotus problematicus is sup¬
posed to have attained a length of seven feet, and some of
the others were a yard long. Crustacea of this magnitude
may have formed tracks on the sea-bed, like those on the
Potsdam sandstone of America, called “Protichnites,” sub¬
sequently to be described.
The great family of Trilobites is entirely confined to the
palaeozoic age ; none are found even in the upper coal
measures or Permian system. Above 400 species have
been described, and grouped in 50 genera. Of these, 46
are Silurian, 22 Devonian, and 4 carboniferous. Accord¬
ing to Bronn, 13 genera are peculiarly lower Silurian, 3
upper Silurian, 1 Devonian, and 3 carboniferous.
Order Trilobites.
Char.—Trunk segments trilobed; sessile compound eyes
in most; limbs aborted.
The skeleton of the Trilobite consists of the cephalic
shield, a variable number of trunk-rings or segments, and
the pygidium or tail composed of a number of joints more
or less anchylosed. In some species a labrum (or “ hypo-
stome”) has been discovered, but no indications of anten-
nse or limbs have ever been detected; still there can be no
doubt they enjoyed such locomotive power as even the
limpet and chiton exhibit when requisite. Variations in
the length of the cephalic and caudal spines {e.g.,\K\Asaphus
caudatus and longi-caudatus), and in the prominence of the
head-lobes, have been considered indications of difference
of sex. One of the oldest and simplest forms is the minute
Agnostus (fig. 9, n); it is usually found in little shoals,
with only the cephalic shield preserved, as if it were the
larval form of some large Trilobite. According to the ob¬
servations of M. Barrande, the Sao passes through twenty
stages of growth, being first a simple disc, and ultimately
having seventeen free thoracic segments and two caudal
joints; the additional segments are developed between the
thorax and abdomen. The Trinucleus (fig. 9, io) with its
ornamental border, and Illcenus (fig. 9, 7), in which the
trilobation is less conspicuous than in most genera, are
characteristic of the lower Silurian strata. Two others
from the Wenlock limestone have long been celebrated,—
viz., Calymene (fig. 9, 9), or the “Dudley Trilobite” so
compactly rolled up 5 and Asaphus (or Phacopsj caudatus
(fig. 9, 8), in which the lenses of the large eyes are fre¬
quently well preserved, and visible without a glass. Each
eye has at least 400 facets, and in the great Asaphus
tyrannus each is computed to have 6000. In one species
{Asaphus Koivalewskii) the eyes are supported on pedun¬
cles. The largest Trilobite is Asaphus gigas; some of the
fragments indicate a creature eighteen inches long.
Sub-Class 2.—MALACOSTRACA.
Char.—Body divided into thorax and abdomen, with seven
segments in each.
The Isopods are represented in the upper oolite by
Archceoniscus Brodicei, which is gregarious, in large num¬
bers in the slabs of Purbeck limestone; and in the Per¬
mian system by the Prosoponiscus (or Palceocrangon).
T O L O G Y.
The problematic Pygocephalus, and the “ Apus duhius” Articulata.
both from the carboniferous strata, are doubtfully referred '
to the Stomapoda, and, with the exception of the Gito-
crangon of Richter, are the oldest of the known stalk-eyed
Decapods.
Macrourous Crustacea are of constant occurrence
Fig. 10.
Crustacea ; Anellida.
1. Dromilites Lamarckii, Desm.; London Clay, Sheppy.
2. Notopocorystes Stokesii, Mant.; Gault, Folkestone.
3. Eryon arctiformis, Schl.; Oxfordian, Solenhofen.
4. Megaehirus locusta, Germar. ; Oxfordian, Solenhofen.
3. Cypridea tuberculata, Shy.; Weald, Sussex.
6. Loricula pulchella, G. B. Sby.: L. Chalk, Sussex.
y. Tentaculites ornatus, J. Sby.; U. Silurian, Dudley.
8. Cornulites serpularius, Schl.; U. Silurian, Dudley.
throughout the oolites and cretaceous strata. One of the
most remarkable forms, Eryon (fig. 10, 3), is found in the
lias (with the closely-allied Tropifer send Coleid) and in the
Oxford clay. The small lobsters of the genus Glyphea, in
the oolites, and Meyeria, in the Speeton clay and green¬
sand, are commonly the nucleus of hard nodules of phos¬
phate of lime. The larger species of the chalk form the
genus Enoploclytia. The Oxfordian oolite of Solenhofen,
with its finely-laminated lithographic slates, opens like a
book filled with compressed and wonderfully-preserved
shrimps and lobsters. One of them, remarkable for its
long and slender arms [Megachirus, fig. 10, 4) is also found
in the Oxford clay of Wiltshire. One of the most remark¬
able repositaries of fossil Crustacea is the Isle of Sheppy,
where the “ London clay” has afforded countless examples
of the higher organized division, including 9 Brachyura, 3
Anomura, and 5 macrourous species. The island of Hainan,
on the coast of China, abounds with fossil crabs of the
genus Macropthalma, which are sold in the drug-market
of Shanghae. Others are found in the miocene of Malta,
and of Perim Island in the Red Sea. The reputed in¬
stances of secondary Brachyura are open to doubt; in
England we have only the little Etyus Martini (or Reussia)
from the gault, for the Podopilumnus (M‘C.) is probably
from some foreign tertiary deposit. Pairs of chelate claws
occur in the upper chalk which are referred to a hermit-
crab {Mesostylus Faujasii). Small Crustaceans, resem¬
bling in form the living Corystes, abound in the gault (fig.
10, 2), but they are known to be anomourous by the small
size and dorsal position of the posterior legs, and by the
little plates intercalated between the last joints of the tail, as
seen also in \heDromilites (fig. 10, 1) from the London clay.
Class IV.—INSECTA.
Char.—Body chitinous, articulated, with articulated and
uncinated limbs; head provided with jointed antennae;
respiratory system tracheal.
The fossil insects hitherto examined have afforded
no new types or forms of unusual interest. The oldest
known, those from the lower coal measures, resemble
the Curculionidce and Blattidce or Locustidce of the pre-
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mollusca. sent day. The lias limestones have afforded a greater
—' variety to the persevering skill of Mr Brodie: species of
the genera JBerosus, Elater, Gyrinus, Laccophilus, and
Melolontha, and undetermined genera of the families
Carabidce, Buprestidce, Chrysomelidce, and Telephoridce ;
Panorpa-like insects of the genus Orthophlebia; dragon¬
flies, Nepadce and Cimicidce, Cicada, and the dipterous
genus Asilus. Next in age is the insect depositary of the
Stonesfield slate, which affords the large wing-covers of
Buprestis Bucklandi, species of Prionus and Coccinella,
and the great neuropteran Hemerobioides. 1 he Purbeck
limestone has supplied, in addition, species of Cerylon and
Colymbetes, Cyphon, Ilelophorus, and Limnius; and exam¬
ples of Stapht/linidcc, Cantharidce, Harpalidce, Bydro-
philidce, and 'Tenebrionida?, Libellula and Phryganea,
Acheta and Blatta, Aphis, Cercopis, and other Homoptera,
and ten dipterous genera. In the newer pliocene fresh¬
water formations the recent Copris lunaris has been de¬
tected, and the elytra of Donacia and Harpalus. The
principal foreign sources of fossil insects have been the
lithographic slates of Solenhofen, and the tertiary deposits
of Aix in Provence, and QBningen, near Constance, on the
Rhine. Remains of species of Tinea and Sphinx are said
to have been found in the lower Jura, and of a diurnal
Lepidopteran in the Molasse. Numerous examples of in¬
sects in true amber have been obtained, and much more
abundantly in “ gum animi,” a more modem fossil resin.
These are all unknown to entomologists, and are probably
extinct, since no department of recent natural history has
been so closely worked, although the fossil insects have
been comparatively neglected. It has been suggested by
Mr Westwood that the lias insects have a sub-alpine
character, and may have been brought down by torrents
from some higher region. But no attempt has been made
to show whether these or any other group of fossil insects
most nearly resemble those of any particular zoological
province of the present day.
Much has been said of the “ indusial limestone” of Au¬
vergne, supposed to be built up of the fossilized cases of
caddis-worms (Phryganeidce) ; but the only entomologist
who has visited the country and examined the formation
entertains doubts of the correctness of this interpretation.
Of the Myriapoda, 17 fossil species have been found,
commencing in the oolitic system. And of the Arachnida,
131 species are catalogued ; the earliest and most interest¬
ing of these is the fossil scorpion (Cyclopthalmus senior)
of the Bohemian coal measures (figured in Buckland’s
Bridgewater Treatise). Fossil spiders are found in the
Solenhofen slates and in the tertiary marls of Aix.
Province III—MOLLUSCA.1 2
Remains of the Testacea, or shell-bearing molluscous
animals, are the most common of all fossils, and afford the
most complete series of “ medals,” or characteristic signs
for the identification of strata. The duration of types and
species, as a general rule, is inversely proportional to rank
and intelligence. The most highly organized fossils have
the smallest range, and mark with greatest exactitude
the age of the deposit from whence they have been de¬
rived. But the evidence afforded by shells, if less precise,
is more easily and constantly obtained, and holds good
over larger tracts of country.
Class L—BRACHIOPODA.
The lamp-shells (Brachiopoda), more than any other
group, have suffered with the lapse of time. Of 1300
103
known species, only 75 are living; and of the 34 genera, Mollusca.
the larger part (21) are extinct. The number of generic
forms is greatest in the Devonian period and least in the
upper oolites, after which a second set of new types gra¬
dually appears. The preponderance of fossil Brachiopoda
is contrasted with the scarcity of the recent shells even more
strongly by the abundance of individuals than by the num¬
ber of species ; for the living shells mostly inhabit deep
water and rocky situations inaccessible to the dredger, and
are seldom obtained in large numbers.
The genus Terebratula, as now restricted to shells with
a short internal loop, musters above 100 fossil species, ot
which only one survives (jT. vitrea), an inhabitant of the
Lusitanian province.
The Waldheimias, or Terebratulce, with long loops, are
widely distributed in our present seas, although only 9 in
number, being found on the coast of Spitzbergen and La¬
brador, at Cape Horn, and most abundantly in New South
Wales and New Zealand: there are 60 fossil species dat¬
ing from the trias. The Terebratellce commenced in the
lias, and occur in small numbers throughout the creta¬
ceous and tertiary periods, and are the only lamp-shells
which attain their climax in recent seas. Five species ol
Argiope occur in the greensand, chalk, and tertiaries. The
allied genus Thecidium is represented by one species in
the carboniferous and one in the triassic system, becomes
comparatively common in the secondary period, and
dwindles again to a single species in the newer tertiary;
this species survives within still narrower limits in the Me¬
diterranean sea. The sub-genus Terebratulina is repre¬
sented by 20 species in the secondary and tertiary forma¬
tions. T. striata of the chalk is so like the recent T. ca¬
put serpentis as to be with difficulty distinguished from it.
Several extinct sub-genera occur in the cretaceous strata,
of which the most remarkable are Trigonosemus (fig.
11, i) and Lyra, shaped like a violin. The genus Strin-
Fig. 11.
Brachiopoda.
1. Trigonosemus Palissyi, Woodw.; U. Cretaceous, Ciply.
2. Stringocephalus Burtini, Defr. 5 /Devonian, Eifel.
3. Spirifera striata ; Carboniferous, Britain.
4. Cyrtia trapezoidalis; U. Silurian, Dudley.
5. Athyris Roissyi, Ler.; Carboniferous, Ireland.
6. Uncites gryphus, Schl.; Devonian, Belgium.
fj* Atrypa reticularis, L.$ U. Silurian, Malvern.
8. Pentamerus Isevis; Caradoc S., Salop.
gocephalus (fig. 11, 2) is peculiar to the Devonian strata,
and has a large internal loop, and a very prominent car¬
dinal process, forked at the end, and fitting over the central
plate of the opposite valve.
The shell of Terebratula and some of its allies {Argiope,
Thecidium, Cyrtia, and Spiriferina) is dotted with minute
quincuncial perforations, sometimes visible to the naked eye,
as in T. lima, but usually requiring a lens of low power.3
■ i
1 For the characters of this province and of its classes, see article Mollusca.
2 They are smallest in T. carnea, which Dr Carpenter has figured by mistake for T. lima in the Trans, of the Palccontographical Soc.
104
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mollusca. The lamp-shells with sharp beaks and plaited valves
have been separated from the TerebratulcB under the name
Rhynchonella (Fisch.) 1 heir shells do not exhibit the
punctate structure under a magnifying-glass, and they have
no internal skeleton to support their arms, which in the
recent species are coiled up spirally, and directed towards
the concavity of the smaller valve, like the spires of the
extinct Atrypa (fig. 11, 7)- Of the 3 living species of
Rhynchonella, one is found throughout the Arctic seas, a
second in New Zealand, and the third at the Feejees (.).
The fossil species exceed 250, and are found in all parts
of the world; those from the palaeozoic strata may prove
distinct from the rest, since the permian species are known
to be provided with large internal processes {Camaropho-
ria, King). Casts of these shells are frequently impressed
with the narrow and angular pallio-vascular impressions.
The extinct genus Atrypa differs from Rhynchonella solely
in having calcareous spires, which are preserved in many
instances, and may be cleared to some extent by the
application of acid. The foramen is separated from the
hinge-line by a deltidium; and the interior of the valve
is marked by ovarian and vascular spaces exactly as in
Rhynchonella. The lower Silurian rock contains another
genus, Porambonites (Pander), as yet imperfectly under¬
stood, but having the valves marked externally by im¬
pressed dots, which are not perforations. The genus Pen-
tamerusaccuvs, in all the strata below the carboniferous lime¬
stone, and is remarkable for its great internal partitions,
causing the shell to split readily across the middle; and
giving rise to deep incisions in those casts of the interior
which are so common in the Caradoc sandstone (fig. 11, 8).
The extinct family Spiriferidce are characterized by the
possession of internal calcareous spires extending from the
centre of the shell outwards (fig. 11, 3). 1 hese spires, like
the shell itself, are frequently silicified, and may be dis¬
engaged from the matrix by the action of acid. At other
times’ the shell is imbedded in soft marl, removeable by
careful washing, so as to show the calcareous lamina of the
spire fringed with hair-like processes, formerly the support
of cirri. In the genus Spirifera, the shell has a long straight
hinge-line, and the flattened area of the larger valve has a
deltoid bvssal notch.1 The typical species are character¬
istic of the palaeozoic strata, and have a shell-structure
like Rhynchonella. The liassic species {Spiriferina,
D’Orb.), have punctate shells, and the byssal opening is
closed (at least in the adult) by a thin arched plate or
“ pseudo-deltidium.” In the sub-genus Cyrtia (fig. 11, 4),
the hinge-area is ultimately as long as it is wide, and the
deltidium is perforated in the centre by a byssal tube ;
some of the species have a punctate shell. The genus
Athyris (Dalman), not always easily distinguished from
Terebratula, has usually a smooth and rounded shell, orna¬
mented with concentric lamellae or wing-like expansions
(fig. 11, 3); the beak is truncated by around foramen ; the
hinge-area is obsolete; and the spires are as in ISpirifera,
with the addition of some further complications near the
hinge. There are 25 species, mostly from the Devonian
and carboniferous rocks. The species of Retzia (King)
are still more like plaited Terebratulcc, but have lateial
spires ; they range from the Silurian strata to the trias*
Uncites gryphus (fig. 11, 6), a peculiar Devonian fossil, has
a prominent beak, perforated in the young shell by a
minute apical foramen; the hinge-area is filled up by a
deeply concave deltidium, on each side of which (but only
in some specimens) there is a lateral pouch formed by an
inflection of the margin of both valves.
The family Orthidce consists of shells with a straight
hinge-line, bordered by a flat, narrow area, with a central
notch in each valve; the ventral valve is furnished with Mollusca.
articulating hinge-teeth, and the dorsal valve has short s'—/
processes for the support of the oral arms, which appear
to have been horizontally spiral (as in Atrypa). Between
the oral processes there is a central projection for the at¬
tachment of the cardinal muscles. Internal moulds of the
Orthis (fig. 12, 1) exhibit on the ventral side the single
attachment of the adductor muscles in the centre, and on
Fig. 12.
Brachiopoda.
1. Orthis hysterita, L. (cast); Devonian, Rhine.
2. Davidsonia Verneuili, Bouch.; Devonian, Eifel.
?. Strophomena rhomboidalis, Wahl; V- Silurian, Dudley.
A. Producta semireticulata, Martin ; Carboniferous, Derbyshire.
e. Chonetes striatella, Dalm.; U. Ludlow rock, Herefordshire.
6. Calceola sandalina, Lam.; Devonian, Eifel.
7. Oholus Apollinis, Eichw.; L. Silurian, Northern Europe.
8. Siphonotreta unguiculata, Echw.; U. Silurian, Britain.
each side of it the cardinal muscles ; these are surrounded
by the punctate ovarian spaces and impressions of the
lar<re pallial sinuses. The genus Orthis includes 100
species, ranging upwards to the Permian, but it is most
abundant in the Silurian rocks. Some of the lower Silu¬
rian species have a round foramen in the “ pseudo-delti-
dium,” and are called Orthisince (D’Orb.) Other species
in the upper palaeozoic rocks have the beak twisted or
deformed, probably owing to the attachment of the shell
when young (= Streptorhynchus, King). In Stropho¬
mena, Rafin ( = Lepteena, Dalm.), there is a minute byssal
foramen when young, of which no trace exists in the adult;
and the deltoid notch is also closed, except the space re¬
quired to receive the divided cardinal process of the dorsal
valve. The oral processes appear to be shifted to the
centre of the valve. The shell, when young, is plano-con¬
vex, but when it has attained a certain size the valves are
bent over to one side or the other, and more or less sud¬
denly. The pallial impressions are the same as in Orthis.
The genus Davidsonia, peculiar to the Devonian lime¬
stones, resembles an Orthis attached, like Thecidium, by
the ventral valve to corals, and sometimes taking the maik-
intrs of the body on which it grows, like the oyster and
Anomice. The pallial impressions are like those of Orthis,
and the form of the spiral arms is indicated by prominences
which almost fill up the interior of the shell in aged ex¬
amples. Some indications have been obtained of slender
calcareous spires for the support of the arms in this genus ;
and also in Koninchia, a small shell from the trias of St
Cassian, in which there are always spiral grooves in the
interior of the valves crossed by the impressions of the
^ The anomalous fossil called Calceola sandalina (Lam.)
is also peculiar to the Devonian limestones. In shape it re¬
sembles Cyrtia, but has no hinge, and neither foramen
nor internal processes, except a row of small projections
^ L of his meaning, become constantly used for the
1 The term deltidium, applied by Von Buch to this foramen, has, by misco p
plates which partially close it.
PALEONTOLOGY.
105
Mollusca. along the hinge-line, and two small lateral groups of ridges
in the smaller valve. The interior is punctato-striate, but
has no recognisable muscular markings.
The Productidce are altogether palaeozoic fossils, and
most abundant in the carboniferous limestones. Their
valves are concavo-convex, the hinge-line straight, and the
interior marked with distinct impressions of the muscles for
opening and closing the valves, and simple vascular spaces.
There are 60 species of Producta found in the upper pa¬
laeozoic rocks, and having a very wide range in North and
South America, and from Spitzbergen to Thibet and Tas¬
mania. Some of them are extremely variable in form ;
many are armed with long tubular spines, and others com¬
pletely clothed with short, hair-like processes; they have
no hinge-teeth, and the hinge-area is extremely narrow,
except in the sub-genus Aulosteges of the Russian zech-
stein. Producta proboscidea has its convex valve prolonged
into a tube, as if for the constant supply of respiratory cur¬
rents. The Permian genus Strophalosia has its valves
articulated by hinge-teeth, and covered with long and slen¬
der hollow spines; the shell is attached when young by the
umbo of the large valve. Chonetes is distinguished from
Producta by a row of spines along the hinge-margin of the
convex valve ; it also has a narrow hinge-area with a covered
notch, and small hinge-teeth. There are 25 species in the
Silurian and carboniferous, usually of small size, and finely
striated.
Crania is one of the oldest living types, ranging up¬
wards from the lower Silurian. One of the earliest species
appears to have been unattached, and another to have had
hinge-teeth. Crania Ignabergensis, of the chalk of Swe¬
den, has the valves externally alike, being attached only
when very young. The internal markings of C. antiqua,
and other fossil species, are remarkably grotesque. Lower
valves of this genus and Thecidium are not uncommon, at¬
tached to the tests of sea-urchins, in the chalk; but upper
valves are scarce, either detached or in situ.
The Discinidce are also ancient fossils, few in number,
but appearing in every period. Some of the palaeozoic
Discince {—Orbiculoidea, D’Orb.) cannot be generically
distinguished from the recent species by any characters with
which we are as yet acquainted; but others ( = Trematis,
Sharpe) are ornamented with quincuncial punctures, and the
casts exhibit indications of diverging internal plates, which
imply very considerable difference in the organization of the
animal. The genus Siphonotreta(YernenW), peculiar to the
Silurian formations, is covered with moniliform tubular spines.
Lingula, which has given its name to the older fossili-
ferous rock, is another form occurring unchanged in strata of
every period. Only 34 species are known, and none of
them are very common. The latest British Lingula is
found in the coralline crag (older pliocene) of Suffolk : the
nearest living species is as far off' as the Philippines. L.
Davisii, of the “lingula flags” in North Wales, has a
pedicle groove in the ventral valve, by which the posterior
adductor (or cardinal muscle) must have been divided into
two elements, as in the genus Obolus ; externally it has all
the appearance of an ordinary existing shell. Obolus,
Eichw. (= Ungula, Pander) is so abundant in the lower
Silurian sandstones of Sweden and Russia as to have given
its name to the “ obolite grit.” In England it occurs only
in the upper Silurian of Dudley. The shell is horny in
texture, and often stained blue, like the Lingula, by the
presence of phosphate of iron. In shape it is regularly
oval, and differs from Lingula in the character of the in¬
ternal muscular impressions.
Class II.—LAMELLIBRANCHIATA.
(Bivalve Shells.)
More than a third part of the known fossil shells are or-
YOL. XVII.
dinary bivalves (Conchifera, Dh.) They amount to nearly
6000, while the recent species scarcely exceed half that
number. Nevertheless, it is a group which attains its maxi¬
mum in the present seas. The genera are seven times
more numerous in the newer tertiary than in the oldest
geological system ; and the number of species found in the
entire Silurian series is less than 100, while the chalk con¬
tains 500, and the miocene 800. Out of 150 genera, 35
have become extinct, besides numerous sub-genera. The
families Cyprinidce, Astartidce, and Anatinidce have passed
their maximum ; the Trigoniadce are nearly extinct; and
the Hippuritidce have no living representatives.
The monomyary bivalves, and others with an open mantle,
attain a degree of importance at an early period ; and with
them some of the burrowing families (Myacidce and Ana¬
tinidce) ; while the highest organized siphonated shells (e.g.,
Veneridce and Tellinidce), unknown in the older rocks, are
most abundant now.
The family Ostreidce, distinguished from the Pectens and
Anomice by resting on the left valve, contains two fossil
forms. Of these, Exogyra resembles an oyster with spiral
umbones, directed backwards, or to the left hand ; it is an
attached shell, characteristic of the cretaceous strata. The
genus Gryphcea (fig. 14, i) abounds in the oolites, and is
Mollusca.
Fig. 13.
Paleeozoic Bivalves.
1. Aviculopecten, sp.; Carboniferous, Belgium.
2. Posidonomya Becheri; Carboniferous, Hesse.
3. Ambonychia vetusta, Sby.; Carboniferous, Belgium.
4. Myalina Goldfussi, Dkr. ; Carboniferous, Vise.
5. Ctenodonta cuneata, Hall; L. Silurian, Canada.
6. Lyrodesma plana, Conrad; L. Silurian, Hudson River.
H. Axinus obseurus, Sby.; Magnesian limestone, Durham.
8. Conocardium armatum, Ph.; Carboniferous, Tournay.
9. Pleurophorus costatus, T. Br.; Magnesian limestone, Durham.
10. Grammysia cingulata, His.; Ludlow rocks, Kendal.
IX. Edmondia, sp.; Carboniferous, Belgium.
gregarious, but unattached, the umbo of the larger valve
being curved inwards like a claw. A single occurs
in the carboniferous limestone, after which the species be¬
come abundant, and are with difficulty distinguishable from
the smooth and plaited, or “ cocks-comb,” oyster of the
present day.
Several curious modifications of Anomia and Placuna
have been obtained in a fossil state. Limanomia (Bouchard)
has ears like Lima, and is attached to shells and corals of
the Devonian age. Placunopsis (M. and L.), found in the
oolites, has a transverse ligamental groove, which, like the
umbo of the upper valve, is some way within the margin of
the shell. And Carolia (Cantr.), a tertiary form of Pla¬
cuna, has a byssal plug passing through a foramen like that
of Anomia when young, but closed in the adult.
Fossil Pectinidce are very numerous. Some of them in
the carboniferous limestone (e.g., P. Sowerbyi) cannot be
distinguished generically from the living Pectens, and re¬
tain diverging bands of colour. But the greater part of
O
*
106
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mollusca. these old species are somewhat aviculoid in form (fig. 13, i),
and their hinge-area is grooved with cartilage-turrows like
those of Area. The most beautiful forms occur in the
Fig, 14.
Secondary Bivalves.
1. Gryphsea arcuata,Lam.; Lias, Charmouth.
2. Pecten (Neithea) quinquecostata, Sby.; Chalk, Sussex.
3. Pulvinites Adansoni, Defr. (internal mould); CoraUian, Rochelle.
A. Gervillia anceps, Dh.; L. Greensand, Isle of Wight.
e. Inoceramus sulcatus, Park.; Gawit, Folkestone.
6. Cucullsea (Macrodon) Hirsonensis, D’Arch,; Great Oolite, Mm-
chinhampton.
n. Isoarca cordiformis, Schloth.; Corallian, Nattheim.
8. Myophoria decussata, Hunt.; Trias, S. Cassian.
chalk and greensand, and resemble the recent scallop
(Janira, Schum.) in the inequality of their valves, but are
further characterized by the possession of articulating hinge-
teeth like Spondylus. These constitute the genus Neithea
(fio*. 14, 2). Plicatulce exist in the trias and oolites, along
with shells referred dubiously to Hinnites and Spondylus.
True Hinnites (a sub-genus of Pecten) are characteristic
of the miocene. Spondyli appear in the greensand and
chalk. Some of them (like the so-called “ Plagiostoma
spinosum') are unattached; others resemble the recent
deep-water £. Gussonii, and have been called “Dianchorse.”
The inner layer, including the hinge of these shells, is sel¬
dom preserved. Lima duplicata^ and some other oolitic
species, have two ranges of little hinge-teeth, but not like
those ot the recent species of Limcea. The large and
smooth or striated Limas of the oolites have been called
Plagiostoma, a name originally given by Llhwyd.
The pearl-oysters (Aviculidce) are also very abundant
fossils: but owing to the frequent repetition of similar
forms, it is difficult to determine the genera with any de¬
gree of certainty by the aid of external characters alone.
The Silurian species mostly belong to the genus Pterinea
(Goldfuss), and are broadly winged, and have the hinge-
area striated lengthwise, and a few diverging hinge-teeth.
Amboncychia (Hall) resembles Inoceramus, and ranges from
the Silurian to the carboniferous strata (fig. 13,3). lhe
Silurian genus Cardiola is ridged like a cockle; and
Posidonomya, which is found in all the palaeozoic rocks, is
very thin and concentrically furrowed (fig. 13, 2). Many
other genera have been proposed whose characters are even
more imperfectly understood. Monotis (^Salinarius), one
of the common shells of the trias, has no anterior ear.
Pteroperna (Lycett), an oolitic form, has a winged shell,
with numerous small anterior teeth and long posterior
laminae. The genus Gervillia (fig. 14, 4), ranging from
the carboniferous limestone to the chalk, consists ot elon¬
gated shells, with several cartilage-pits in the ligamental
area. Bakewellia, found in the Permian, has an anterior
muscular impression like Area. The recent genus Perna
commenced in the lias or preceding formation, and exhibits
great variety of shape. Pulvinites Adansonii (fig. 14, 3)
appears to have been a Perna with a byssal foramen like
Anomia ; and Inoceramus (fig. 14, 5), characteristic of the Mollu sea.
cretaceous strata and oolites, differs from Perna chiefly in
form the larger valve being sometimes completely invo¬
lute and resembling a Nautilus. The genus Pinna, which
appears to belong to this family, although provided with two
adductor muscles, occurs fossil in the Devonian and all
subsequent strata. Some of the oolitic species, distinguished
by the name Trichites, are inequivalve and irregular, and
attain a thickness of more than an inch, resembling mineral
masses of fibrous carbonate of lime.
Amongst the Mytilidce are many Silurian species dis¬
tinguished by their large, round, anterior muscular scar
(Modiolopsisl Hall), and others which have a straight hinge¬
line and plaited valves {Orthonotus, Conrad). Myalina lias
the cartilage-groove repeated (fig. 13,4), and is found in the
upper palaeozoic rocks. Sometimes the anterior adductor
is supported on a shelf, as in the recent Septifera and
Dreissenia. True Mytili and Modiolce abound in the
oolitic strata. Dreissenia, now confined to the rivers of
the Aralo-Caspian region, or only naturalized in Western
Europe, was represented by many species, and some of
large size, in the eocene of Hampshire and miocene of
Vienna.
Fossil Arcadcc are far more numerous than the recent
shells, and mostly belong to the division Cuculleza, of
which a single species survives in the Coral Sea. The pa-
Igeozoic Arks have anterior teeth like Area, and posterior
teeth like Cucullcea, and differ from both in the reduction
of the hinge-area to a narrow tract corresponding with the
posterior half only in the recent shells. The casts of Ark-
like shells in the Silurian rocks are further distinguished
by a deep furrow behind the front muscular impression.
These constitute the genus Ctenodonta (Salter), which has
hinge-teeth like Nucula, and a prominent external liga¬
ment (fig. 13, 3). Some of the oolitic Arks, with a byssal
sinus, and the posterior teeth very long and parallel, form
a sub-genus called Macrodon (fig. 14, 6). Others, with
prominent umbones, teeth like Nucula, and a striated liga¬
mental area, form the genus Isoarca of Munster (fig. 14. 7).
Above 200 species of Nucula and Leda are known only as
fossils, and range through all the rock systems. The pa¬
laeozoic species are anomalous in form, and when better
understood, will certainly be considered distinct as genera.
Yoldia is a newer tertiary form characteristic of high
northern latitudes; and Solenella occurs fossil in Patagonia
and New Zealand. The problematic genus Solemya is
supposed to have existed in the carboniferous period.
Pectunculi appear first in the cretaceous strata, being less
ancient than Limopsis, which occurs in the Bath oolite.
A member of the latter genus found in the Belgian eocene
has the ligamental area entirely behind the cartilage-pit,
and is called Nucunella by D’Orbigny. The “ Stalagmium”
of Conrad (= Myopara, Lea) is identical with Crenella
(T. Br.), a sub-genus of Modiola, found in the cretaceous
and tertiary strata.
The Trigoniadce are represented in the lower Silurian
strata by Lyrodesma (fig. 13, 6), a shell with several
radiating hinge-teeth, striated transversely; and in the
upper palaeozoics by Axinus (fig. 13, 7) and several other
imperfectly-known genera. The trias contains true Tri-
gonice associated with the genus Myophoria (fig. 14, 8),
which has the umbones turned forwards, and a posterior
hinge-tooth. The only member of this family which has
yet been found in tertiary strata is the little genus Verti-
cordia (Wood) of the crag. No Trigonice have been met
with, although 100 species are known in the secondary
rocks, and two are still living on the coasts of South Aus¬
tralia.
Fresh-water mussels (t/momc&e), of large size and various
form, occur in the Wealden formation, and are not gene-
rically distinguishable from recent shells ; but those of the
PALEONTOLOGY.
107
Mollusca. coal measures and older rocks are extremely problematic,
i and may even belong to marine genera.
Of the genus Chama there is one species in the upper
greensand and chalk of England, and another in the Lon¬
don clay. Elsewhere they are more abundant, amounting
to thirty species. Closely allied to Chama is the Diceras
(Lam.), of which the remarkable casts attracted attention
at an early period (fig. 14, i). They are found in the
coral rag of France and Germany, and resemble tbe horns
of some animal. The shell is attached by the umbo of
either valve, indifferently, like some of the recent Chamas.
The posterior adductor muscle is.supported on a prominent
ridge (as in Pachydesma, Megalodon, and the recent Car-
dilia), which causes a spiral furrow in each horn of the
cast. The shells which succeed Diceras, in the lower
cretaceous strata, have the right valve usually much
smaller than the left, and in one instance (fig. 14, 2) it is
like the operculum of a spiral univalve. The only British
species of this group is Pequienia Lonsdalii, found in the
ironsand of Bowood. In France, and also in Texas,
another form occurs, with the attached valve simple and
conical, like a Hippurite. The ligamental groove is straight,
and the umbo of the free valve marginal.
These shells are so intimately allied to the Hippuritidce,
that Pequienia has been frequently included with them in
the apocryphal order “ Rudista.” The members of the
Hippurite group are attached and gregarious, like oysters,
often occurring in great numbers, and filling large tracts of
rock. Their valves are different in structure and sculp¬
turing, and are articulated by two prominent teeth above
and one below; the cartilage is internal, but there is a
conspicuous ligamental furrow outside. There are nearly
100 species characteristic of the cretaceous strata, and
especially of the lower chalk, or “ hippurite limestone.”
Only one species {Radiolites Mortoni) is found in Eng¬
land ; the rest are from the West Indies, Southern Europe,
Algeria, and the East. The form which approaches nearest
to Chama is the little genus Caprotina (fig. 15, 7), whose
upper valve has a marginal umbo, but is in other respects
like a miniature Radiolite. Caprina (D’Orb.) has the
free valve perforated by canals which open in the inner
margin, and in Caprinella the outer lamina of both valves
possesses this structure. One valve is sometimes spiral
(fig. 15, 6), and partitioned off internally by numerous septa,
Fig. 15.
Secondary Bivalves.
1. Diceras arietinum, Lam.; Corallian, France.
2. Requienia ammonia; Neocomian, S. France.
3- Monopleura trilobata, D’Orb.; Neocomian, Orgon.
4. Hippurites Toucasiana, D’Orb.; L. Chalk, France.
5. Radiolites angeiodes, Lam.; L. Chalk, Gosau.
6. Caprinella Boissyi, D’Orb.; L. Chalk, Valley of Alcantara.
7. Caprotina semistriata, D’Orb.; U. Greensand, Le Mans.
like the water-Spondylus, but so regularly as to resemble
the chambered shell of a Nautilus. In the Radiolite (fig.
I'-h 5)> both valves are conical, and the umbo of the free
valve (marginal in the very young shell) becomes central
in the adult. The structure of the hinge is modified by
the absence of any spirality in the valves, but is essentially
the same as in Caprotina and Diceras; the prominent
teeth of the upper valve support curved plates for the
attachment of the adductor muscles, which become con¬
tinually more undercut in the course of their growth. In
Hippurites, the anterior muscular plate projects horizontally,
the posterior vertically, like a third tooth, for which it has
been mistaken. In this genus there are two longitudinal
inflexions of the outer shell-wall beside the ligamental
furrow, one corresponding to the posterior muscular plate,
the other (or third) apparently a siphonal inflexion like that
in Trigonia and Leda (fig. 15, 4).
The cockle-shells {Cardiadee'), as they have a world-wide
distribution now, had a corresponding range in time, and
are found in all strata from the Silurian upwards. The
commonest fossil type of Cardium is ribbed concentrically
on the sides, and radiately on the posterior slope, a style
of ornament almost unique amongst the 200 recent species.
The Caspian cockles, distinguished by a sinus in the pallial
line, appear to have inhabited the Aralo-Caspian region
almost from the middle tertiary period; the hinge-teeth
are reduced to one [Monodacna) or two [Didacnd) in each
valve, and are sometimes quite wanting even in the young
shell (Adacna, Eichw.) Lithocardium aviculare (fig. 16,
7) is a characteristic shell of the Paris basin, and appears
to have spun a byssus, like the fry of some recent cockles;
it also resembles the oriental Tridacna, of which a species
is found in the miocene of Poland. The genus Conocar-
dium (fig. 13, 8) of the upper Silurian and carboniferous
systems is remarkable for the prismatic cellular structure ot
its shell, and the truncation of the posterior (?) side of the
valves, which are furnished in some species with a slender
siphonal process.
ThelLucinidce, allied to the cockles in their hinge-struc¬
ture, are also plentiful in the fossil state, and have as wide
a range. They are usually recognisable, even when in the
condition of internal casts, by their circular form and the
oblique ridge on their disk. Casts of Lucina also exhibit
the peculiar narrow outline of the anterior adductor detached
from the pallial line. Cryptodon, Diplodonta, Kellia, and
Pythina are found in the eocene tertiary. Corbis, under
the sub-generic form of Sphcera, commences in the trias ;
another modification, found in the oolites and chalk {Uni-
cardium, D’Orb.), is edentulous; and Tancredia (Lycett),
a compressed triangular shell, with a dentition like Corbis,
is frequent in the lias and oolite.
The fresh-water Cycladidce are represented in the
Wealden and eocene by many species of Cyrena, mostly
of small size. The recent Corbicula fluminalis of eastern
rivers is a common fossil of the pliocene tertiary in Eng¬
land and Sicily.
The Cyprinidce and Astartidce are more abundant as
fossil shells, and had a wider range of old than at the pre¬
sent day. Nearly 100 species of Cyprina have been
catalogued, commencing in the trias; the dentition of the
older species is, however, somewhat peculiar. 1 he Isocar-
dice are almost as numerous, and have the same range, but
many of the fossil Isocardia-looking shells are really related
to the Anatinidce. A yet higher antiquity has been assigned
to Cypricardia, a genus now very scarce and difficult to
obtain, on account of its habit. The palaeozoic Pleuro-
phorus (fig. 13, 9) is distinguished by the prominent ridge
behind the anterior muscular impression ; and Megalodon
(J. Sby.), by the plate supporting the posterior adductor.
This genus is represented in the oolites by Pachyrisma
(fig. 16, t), and in the tertiaries and modern seas by Car-
dilia.
The genus Astarte, now limited to a dozen species in
the North Atlantic and Arctic seas, has an almost world¬
wide geological distribution, and counts 200 species in
Mollusca.
108
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mollusca, D’Orbigny’s catalogue, commencing with the lias period.
Crassatella, now almost a southern form, is common in the
cretaceous and tertiary strata of Europe. Closely allied
to Astarte is the extinct genus Opis (fig. 16, 3), of which
there are 42 species in the secondary series; and Car-
dinia (fig. 16, 2), characteristic of the lias and oolites.
Secondary and Tertiary Bivalves.
1. Pachyrisma septiferum. Bur.; Corallian, Meuse.
2. Cardinia hybrida, Sby.; Lias, Gloucester.
3. Opis tumulatus, Mill.; Inf. Oolite, Bayeux.
4. Tancredia seeariformis, Dkr.; Lias, Saxony.
5. Sowerbya crassa, D’Orb.; Oxfordian, Ardennes.
6. Goniomya scripta, Sby.; Kelloway rock, Wilts.
7. Lithocardium aviculare, Lam.; Eocene, Paris.
6. Grateloupiairregularis, Bart,; Miocene, Bordeaux.
9, Teredina personata, Lam.; Eocene, Bogua.
The so-called Unios of the coal measures (Anthracosia,
Kinti) are probably members of this group. One hundred
species of Cardita (including Venericardia) are found in
the secondary and tertiary strata; of the 50 recent forms,
one only is Arctic, and this occurs in the glacial deposits
of England. The allied genus Myoconcha is characteristic
of the older secondary rocks, and Hippopodium of the
lias.
The VeneridoB are pre-eminently characteristic of the
tertiary and present period. Some obscure species of Venus
are found in the oolites: Cytherea occur in the green¬
sands ; Artemis, Trigona, Lucinopsis, Venerupis, and
Tapes appear in the middle tertiary ; Petricola in the
eocene. The only extinct form is Grateloupia (fig. 16, 8),
which differs but little from Trigona.
The Mactras and Tellens are also comparatively modern
groups; most of the supposed oolitic species belong to
Lucinidce, except Sowerbya (fig. 16, 3), which has a pal-
lial sinus, and is found in the oolites of Malton and Portland.
Psammobice and Mesodesmce occur in the greensand;
Donax and Syndosmya in the eocene; Gastrana- and
Lutraria in the miocene. Lutraria rugosa, still living
on the coast of Portugal, is fossil in the raised beaches of
SUThe oldest forms of razor-fish {Solenidce) are those with
the transverse internal rib (^Solecurtus), which occur in the
neocomian, whilst true Solens and Glycimeris appear fiist
in the eocene strata. 1 he genus Mya, as now restr icted to
the species resembling M. arenaria, are only met with in
the newer tertiary. Corbula ranges upwards from the
lower oolites ; Necera appears in the upper greensand; and
Thetis ( = Poromya, Forbes) in the neocomian.
Above 100 species of Panopcea (a genus essentially like
Mya) have been obtained from oolitic and tertiary strata in
all parts of the world. They are with difficulty distinguished
from those equally numerous forms of Anatinidw which
have been associated with Pholadomya on account of the
tenuity of their finely-granulated valves; they constitute
the genus Myacites (Bronn), and occur in all the palaeo¬
zoic and secondary rocks ; some of the oolitic and cretace¬
ous species are distinguished by V-shaped furrows (fig. 16,
6). Still more numerous are the fossil forms of Pholadomya, '
which range upwards from the lias, but are reduced to a
single species now living in the Caribbean seas. Shells
with the umbones fissured like Anatina also occur in the
oolites. Pandora first appears in the older tertiary. Amongst
the extinct genera referred to this family are the Silurian
Grammysia (fig. 13,10), with valves folded transversely; the
carboniferous Edmondia (fig. 13, ti), with large oblique
cartilage plates ; and Cardiornorpha, shaped like Tsocardia',
and the oolitic Ceromya (Ag.), which also resembles the
heart-cockle in form. Cercomya is an oolitic Anatina,
with the posterior end of the valves much attenuated.
The genus Gastrochcena appears in the lower oolites;
and casts of its burrows are frequently preserved after the
decomposition of the coral in which they were made.
Clavagella dates from the upper greensand, and Aspergil¬
lum from the miocene. Saxicava is found in the newer ter¬
tiary and raised beaches of Northern Europe; and the
great species commonly called “ Panopced!, Norwegica is
a characteristic fossil of the newer pliocene of Britain and
Greenland.
The Pholades and ship-worms appear first in the oolitic
strata. Forms resembling the recent Martesia striata have
been discovered in fossil wood of the lias and Speeton
clay. Jouannetia (Desm.) wras first known as a miocene
fossil; and Pholas occurs in the older tertiary. Extinct
species of Teredo are found in the silicified wood of the
greensand of Blackdown and in the fossil palm-fruits of Bra¬
bant and Sheppy. The drift-wood of the London clay is
usually perforated by the ship-worm, and also by an ex¬
tinct form {Teredina, fig. 16, 9), which resembles Martesia
in possessing an umbonal shield : when adult, it not only
closes the anterior pedal opening, but also cements its
valves to the shelly lining of its,burrow, like an Aspergillum.
Specimens have been obtained in which the whole interior
of the valves and tube had been excessively thickened to¬
wards the close of life by successive layers of shell.
Molluscs.
Class III.—GASTEROPODA.
Fossil univalves—the remains of spiral and limpet-like
shells—are not wanting in any but the very oldest fossili-
ferous rocks (“lingula flags”). From the lower Silurian,
where less than 100 species, referable to scarcely more than
10 genera, are found, they increase in number and variety
slowly and regularly up to the newer tertiaries, which have
afforded ten times as many genera and twenty times as many
species. The total number of fossil marine univalves is less
than 6000; the recent exceed 8000; and although w^e may
expect to discover more new fossil species than recent, yet
it is evident the group of univalves has only now attained
its maximum development.
Between the extinct and living air-breathers the numeri¬
cal discrepancy is still greater. About 300 land-snails, and
half as many fresh-water Pulmonifera, are enumerated
in the fossil catalogues ; but the greater part of these are
recent species, and the whole bears no proportion to the
number of living land-snails, which exceed 4000. That
many more have formerly existed is indicated by the fact,
that the fossil land-snails of the older tertiaries of Europe
are entirely different from their living successors, and
most nearly represented at the present time in the West
Indies and Brazil. The generic forms peculiar to oceanic
islands (remains of old continents) are more numerous than
those of the mainlands, as if this order had once been more
important. But the circumstances favourable to their pe¬
trifaction must have been of such rare occurrence as to
preclude the probability of attaining more than the scantiest
information concerning them.
From the large and proportional number of living Gas-
PALAEONTOLOGY.
109
Mollusca. teropods, and the great amount of information which has
been obtained of late years respecting their structure and
habits, it might be expected that the affinities of the fossil
univalves would be easily worked out, and their indications
fully interpreted. Such, however, is not the case. Uni¬
valve shells present no internal markings, easily accessible
Fig. 17.
Palaeozoic Univalves.
1. Loxonema Lefeburei, Lev. : Carboniferous, Tournay.
2. Macrochilus Schlotheimi, D’Arch.; Devonian, Eifel.
3. Scoliostoma expansilabrum, Sdgr.; Devonian, Nassau.
4. Euomphalus sculptus, Sby.; Wenlock Limestone, May Hill.
5. Murchisonia angulata, Ph.; Devonian, Eifel.
0. Porcellia Puzosi, Lev.: Carboniferous, Tournay.
7. Bellerophon bi-carinatus, Lev.: Carboniferous, Tournay.
8. Tubina armata, Barr.; U. Silurian, Bohemia.
9. Maclurea Peachii, Salter; L. Silurian, Sutherland.
10. Conularia quadrisulcata, Sby.; Carboniferous, Lanark.
like those of bivalves, and exhibiting the essential charac¬
ters of the soft parts; and their external forms are often
so overlaid with ornament, and disguised by mimetic cha¬
racters, as to mislead upon a first examination. Shells of
any family may be limpet-shaped, or turreted, or discoidal,
plain or ornamented. It is more desirable to ascertain
whether they have been nacreous or porcellanous ; whether
the apex (or nucleus) presents any peculiarities; and if
operculated, whether the operculum was few-whirled or
multispiral.
The earlier describers of fossil univalves unhesitatingly
recognised many familiar recent genera, even in the older
rocks. But their “ Melanias ” were marine shells ; the
supposed Bucdnum had ' no notch ; the Solaria were
pearly; the Neritas assumed, when adult, the irregular
aperture of Pileopsis ; the Naticas had non-spiral opercula;
and the Maclurea was figured upside down.
The more closely palaeozoic univalves are examined, so
much the more do they appear to differ from ordinary re¬
cent types ; and the search for allied forms has to be con¬
ducted amongst the rare and minute and least understood
of recent shells.
Nucleobranchiata.—Those fossil univalves, which in their
symmetry resemble the Nautilus, but are unfurnished with
air-chambers, have been compared to the recent Hetero-
poda (or Nucleobranchiata, Bl.), and especially to that di¬
vision typified by the tiny Atlanta, in which the animal
can withdraw itself completely into its shell, and close the
aperture with an operculum. The Porcellia, charac¬
teristic of the carboniferous age, has a discoidal shell, with
a spiral nucleus projecting, as in Atlanta, from the right
side ; the whirls are exposed, and marked with a narrow
band along the back, ending in a deep slit (fig. 17, 6). An¬
other genus {Bellerophoii) resembles the recent Oxygyrus
in its more globose form, with a similar narrow umbilicus
on either side (fig. 17, 7) ; sometimes the shell is thin and
the aperture expanded, like a trumpet, whilst other species
are globular and solid ; the former may have been tenanted
by large animals living at the surface of the open sea, the
latter seem to have been more adapted to protect their
owners crawling over the bottom, for it can scarcely be Mollusca.
insisted that all were necessarily floaters on account of their
organization. The species of Bellerophon are numerous in
all the palaeozoic rocks, and some of the smaller kinds ap¬
pear to have been gregarious : those with disconnected
whirls have been called Cyrtolites (Conrad.) The Bellero-
phina of D’Orbigny (fig. 18, 11) is a minute shell found in
the gault. The other division (Firolidce) consists of Mol-
lusks in which the shell is wanting or rudimentary, and
small compared with the bulk of the animal. A single
species of the genus Carinaria has been found in the
middle tertiary of Turin.
Strombidce. — The Strombs, with their massive shells,
nevertheless, resemble the fragile Heteropods in some re¬
spects. They have the same lingual dentition, and the same
carnivorous habits; and though living on the sea-bed, they
rather leap than glide, having a narrow sole and a deeply-
divided operculigerous lobe. Characteristic of the warmer
zones of existing seas, they are only found fossilized in the
newer tertiary strata of countries south of Britain ; but
there is a group of little shells related to the recent S.
fissurellus in the older tertiaries of London, Paris, and
America, to which Agassiz has given the name Rimella.
The allied genus of scorpion-shells {Pterocera), now pe¬
culiar to eastern seas, has been described as occurring fossil
in the secondary strata of Europe ; but the extinct species
appear to be more nearly related to Aporrhais. This
genus, now confined to the western shores of Europe, occurs
in all the tertiaries, and is represented in the secondary
rocks by many remarkable forms. Some have been sepa¬
rated under the name Alaria ; and to this group the so-
called Pterocera Bentleyi may perhaps be referred (fig. 18,
a). Rostellaria and Serapis (or Terebellum), now peculiar
to the Red or eastern seas, are conspicuous fossils of the
European eocene, at which time their range extended to
America. Some of the ancient Rostellarias have the outer
lip enormously expanded, as in the R. ampla (Hippocrena)
of the London clay. In the oolites and chalk there are
slender fusiform shells {Spinigera, D’Orb., fig. 18, i)
with spines on the sides of the whirls, as in some recent
Ranellce.
Muricidce.—The great family of whelks, by far the most
Fig. 18.
Secondary Univalves.
1. Spinigera, sp.; Oxford Clay, Chippenham.
2. Alaria Bentleyi, M. and L.; Great Oolite, Collyweston.
3. Purpurina Morrisii, Buy., Great Oolite ; Minchinharr.pton.
4. Nerinaja Bruntrutana, Thurm.; Corallian, Poland.
5. Crossostoma Pratti, M. and L.; Great Oolite, Minchinhampton.
6. Trochotoma conuloides, Desl ; Great Oolite, Minchinhampton.
7. Neritoma bisinnata, Buv.; Oxfordian, Ardennes.
8. Pileolus plicatus, Sby.; Great Oolite, AnclifF.
9. Cinulia incrassata, J. Sby.; U. Greensand, Blackdovvn.
10. Acteonina concava, Desl.; Lias, Normandy.
11. Bellerophina minuta, Sby.; Gault, Folkestone.
important group of living sea-shells, is scarcely of higher
antiquity than the eocene tertiary. The Purpurina of the
oolites (fig. 18, 3), and Columbellina of the chalk, are
110 P A L O N
Mollusca. extinct genera somewhat resembling Purpura and Colum-
bella. But since the so-called “ cones” of the oolites have
proved to beTornatellre, it may not be unreasonable to dis¬
trust these other presumed affinities. The huge uni¬
valve of the chalk, which Sowerby called a Dolium, has
been described as a Pterocera by D’Orbigny. In the
tertiaries siphonated univalves abound, and are mostly re¬
ferable with certainty to recent genera. The only marked
change consists in the comparative abundance of some
scarce existing forms, and the absence or rarity of many
now most conspicuous. Moreover, the geographical dis¬
tribution of the genera has undergone a great change since
the close of the eocene period. This change is most no¬
ticeable in the cold-temperate zone, and is evidently the
result of altered climate. The northern seas must ever
have been inclement, and the tropical seas always tropical;
but the latitude of England being most liable to vicissitudes
of climate, might be expected to show the greatest variety,
and the most complete and rapid alterations of organic
Fig. 19.
Tertiary Univalves.
1. Nautilus (Aturia) zic-zac, Sby. ; Eocene, Britain.
2. Nautilus zic-zac, front view of a septum.
3. Conorbis dormitor, Sol.; Eocene, Britain.
4. Borsonia lineata, T. Edw.; M. Eocene, Hants.
5. Volutilithes luctator, Sol.; Eocene, Britain.
6. Natica (Deshayesia) cochlearia, Bror.gn. ; Eocene, N. Italy.
7. ' Turritella (Proto) cathedralis, Brongn. ; Miocene, Bordeaux,
8! Nerita (Yelates) perversa, Gm.; Eocene, France.
9. Helix (Lychnus) Matheroni, Req.; Eocene, S. France,
jo. Ferussina tricarinata, M. Br. ; Miocene, Hockheim.
11. Volvaria bulloides, Lam.; Eocene, Grignon.
12. Vaginella depressa. Bast.; Miocene, Bordeaux.
life. In the London clay are found many species of Cla-
vella, Typhis, Mitra, Pseudoliva, Oliva, and Ancillaria ;
and some extinct forms {^Lciostovna and Strcpsidurd) le-
lated to Fusus. The middle tertiary, wanting in England,
but largely developed in Central and Southern Europe, also
contains many genera belonging now to warmer latitudes,
and many species still living in the south. In the newer
tertiaries of Europe these southern forms disappear, and
are gradually replaced by others of an opposite charac¬
ter (Trophon, Neptunia, and Trichotropis), now inhabiting
the Arctic and boreal coasts. The entire number of fossil
Muricidce amounts to 1000, or about half as many as the
recent. The older tertiaries of England also contain species
of Triton, Cassidaria, Cancellaria, and Pyrula, shells (now
foreign to our seas), which have formerly been included in
this family. As regards bulk, there are no fossil species of
Fusus, Triton, and Cassis (or Strombus and I oluta) to com¬
pare with those of the present day.
Conidce.—The Cones and Pleurotomas appear first in
the chalk, and are abundant in the eocene, accompanied
by an intermediate form {Conorbis, fig. 19, 3), and another
extinct sub-genus {Borsonia, fig. 19, 4), in which the column
is plaited, as in Mitra. The genus Terebra is commoner
in the miocene.
Volutidce.—The Volutes also appear as cretaceous fossils
T 0 L o G Y.
in Europe and Southern India ; they are very abundant in Mollusca.
the London clay, and one occurs in the English crag. The
ancient species are mostly distinguished by their spires
being acute, as in Mitra (fig. 19, 5), a peculiarity only
found in one very rare living (?) species, dredged from a
bed of dead shells in 132 fathoms water (792 feet) off the
Cape. The crag Volute resembles the Magellanic form.
Cymba olla, the only living European Volute, is a fossil in
the pliocene of Majorca.
Cyprceidce.—The Cowries form another group of sub¬
tropical shells once common in the temperate zone. Seve¬
ral large species are found in the London clay, most nearly
related to the southern Cyprovula; whilst the crag contains
only members of the sub-genus Trivia, one of which still
lives on our coast.
The round-mouthed shells {Holostomata), whether ani¬
mal-feeders or vegetarians, make a conspicuous figure
amongst the fossils of an earlier period than that in which
the last group began to flourish. The carnivorous Naticidee
and Pyramidellidce are represented in the palaeozoic strata
by Naticopsis, Loxonema (fig* 17, 1), and Macrochilus
(fig. 17, 2). The violet-snail {lanthina), so unlike any other
existing shell-fish, seems related to the Silurian Scalites,
Raphistoma, and Holopea. Shells like Scalaria and So¬
larium occur in the trias and oolites associated with Chem-
nitzice (?) of extraordinary size, and species of Eulima and
Niso. These families of shells and the Cerithiadce are
more abundant fossil than recent, the known numbers being
1500 extinct and 900 living forms. Solaria, with discon¬
nected whirls and pyramidal opercula {Bifrontia, Dh.),
are common in the eocene tertiary, and a single living
species {B. zanclcea) has been discovered by M‘Andrew.
Amongst the tertiary Naticas are many with an oblique
aperture and peculiar perforation {Globulus, J. Sby., =
pullina, Bl.), and others with prominences] on the pillar
{Deshayesia, fig. 19, 6.) The Nerinceas of the oolites are re¬
markable for the spiral ridges (like the “ worm” of a screw)
winding round their interior, and giving rise to the variety
of singular patterns seen in sections (fig. 18, 4). A simi¬
lar structure exists in the recent “ telescope-shell” (7m?-
bralia). The fresh-water univalves of the Wealden and
older tertiaries differ but little from their recent congeners
of the genera Paludina, Potamides, Melania, and Mela-
nopsis. Fossil Turritellce are of doubtful occurrence before
the tertiary ; the Silurian species have the peristome com¬
plete {Holopella, M‘C.); another form {Proto, fig. 19, 7)
is characteristic of the miocene.
The bonnet-limpets {Calyptrceidd) are common in the
old rocks, which also contain a few species of Chiton and
shells like Dentalium. Fossil Trochidce are very numerous,
but hitherto many Litorinidce have doubtless been included
with them. Perhaps no true Turbo is known from strata be¬
fore the cretaceous. The Euomphali (fig. 17, 4)) which cha¬
racterize the older rocks, have multispiral calcareous oper¬
cula, like the recent Cyclostrema {= Adeorbis). 1 he genus
Maclurea (fig. 17, 9), which has been regarded as a “ left-
handed” Euomphalus, is probably very different; it has a
thick shelly operculum, sinistrally spiral, and furnished with
an internal process, as the Nerites are; the spire is sunk and
concealed, whilst the whirls are exposed on the flattened un-
der-side; it occurs in the older Silurian rocks of Scotland and
North America. One common feature of the palaeozoic
spiral shells is their tendency to become irregular towards the
conclusion of their growth ; in Serpularia {l^hanerotinus,
Sby.), the whirls are all disunited; in Scoliostoma (fig. 17,
3) and Catantostoma the aperture is expanded. Some
small oolitic shells have a thickened peristome {Crosso-
stoma, fi". 18, 3), like the recent Lietia, which commences
in the older tertiary. A large proportion of the trochi-
form fossil shells have their whirls, whether round or angu¬
lar, marked by a peculiar band, terminating in a deep slit
PAL JEON
Mollusca. at the aperture ; most of these were solid nacreous shells
v y—> belonging to the genus Pleurotomaria, of which but a single
species survives; others in their slenderness resemble Tur-
ritellce, and have been named Murchisonia (fig. 17, 5)-
The carboniferous shell called Pohjtremana has a row of
holes in place of a slit; and the Silurian Tubina (fig. 17, 8)
has three rows of tubular spines. The Cirrus of the infe¬
rior oolite is a reversed shell with one row of similar orna¬
ments; and Trochotoma (fig. 18, 6) has a perforation near
the margin of the aperture, which is carried onward as the
shell grows. Scissurella, which is always diminutive and
not pearly, makes its first appearance only in the newer
tertiary. Haliotis occurs in the miocene of Malta. The
JSeritidcB appear in the oolites: besides true Nerites, there
are Neritomce (fig. 18, 7), with a channeled outer lip: Pi-
leolus, which is perfectly limpet-like above (fig. 18, 8); and
Neritopsis, with its angular columellar notch most distinctly
marked. Key-hole limpets {Fissurellidce) occur as early
as the carboniferous period, but are very scarce at first,
and never become numerous. The oolitic Rimula is a
minute shell supposed to be related to a very rare living
species. Ordinary limpets (Patellidce) of unequivocal
form are found in the Bath oolite, but are afterwards less
plentiful, and almost disappear from the tertiaries; M.
D’Orbigny regarded them as generically distinct, but em¬
ployed for them a name {Helcion, Mont.) synonymous with
Patella.
Pulmonifera.—The existence of air-breathing snails in
the palaeozoic rocks is indicated only by the somewhat pro¬
blematic Vendropupa, discovered by Sir C. Lyell in a coal
tree of Nova Scotia. The Purbeck limestone contains a
modern-looking Physa; and other species of extraordinary
size are found in the older tertiary of France, and also in
Central India, where the genus does not exist at the pre¬
sent day. The fresh-water eocene of the Isle of Wight
and Paris has afforded many species of Limncea and Pla-
norbis; a Glandina rivalling in size the G. truncata of
South Carolina; a Cyclostoma, with a sculptured opercu¬
lum like the Cyclotus Jamaice?isis; and an elongated
species of the section Megalomastoma, which is now living
in both East and West Indies. At Hordle has been found
the little Helix labyrinthicus, still living in Texas ; and in
the south of France occur representatives of the Brazilian
genera Megaspira and Anastoma (fig. 19, 9). In the
miocene is found another genus {Ferussina, fig. 19, 10)
resembling the lamp-snail, but supposed to be operculated.
The Pulmonifera of the English pliocene are in a few in¬
stances extinct, at least in England ; nearly all are still
living here, but more or less abundant now than they were
in the times of the mastodon and elephant. The extinct
land-snails of the Atlantic islands Madeira and Porto
Santo are associated with remains of many recent species
occurring in numbers which have relatively altered, telling
the same tale of gradual changes, affecting some species
prejudicially, but favourable to the increase of others. The
fossil land-snails of St Helena were supposed by Mr Dar¬
win to have become finally extinct only in the last century,
owing to the destruction of the native woods by the instru¬
mentality of goats and swine.
Tectibranchiata.—The families typified by Tornatella,
Pingicula, and Bulla played a more important part in the
secondary and tertiary periods, but their affinities have
been seldom understood. The cone-like Acteonina ap¬
peared in the carboniferous rocks, and attained a remark¬
able development in the lias (fig. 18, 10). They were
succeeded by the Acteonellce, with a plaited columella, in
the cretaceous strata; and by Volvaria (fig. 19, ti) in the
eocene. The diminutive Ringiculce of our seas were pre¬
ceded by large species of the same genus in the tertiaries,
and by Cinulia (fig. 18, 9), Globiconcha, and Tylostoma,
in the cretaceous strata. The genus Varigera has varices
T O L 0 G Y. ill
recurring twice in each whirl, like Eulima; and Ptero- Mollusca.
donta is winged like Strombus.
Pteropoda.—The fragile shells of Hyalea and Cleodora
are found in the newer tertiary of Italy, with Vaginella
(fig. 19, 12), a form allied to Cuvieria. But the occur¬
rence of Pteropoda in the older rocks is attended with con¬
siderable obscurity. The shells called Theca are slender
and conical; Pterotheca has a wing-like expansion ; and
Conularia (fig. 17, 10) is a four-sided sheath, with the
apex partitioned off, as in the recent Cuvieria. If really
pteropodous, these shells are the giants of the order.
Class IY.—CEPHALOPODA.
Order 1.—Tetkabranchiata.
(Nautiloid Cephalapoda.)
Of the lower group of Cephalopods, possessing cham¬
bered shells similar to the pearly Nautili, there are 1400
extinct species, belonging to above 30 genera, while 5 or 6
species alone exist in modern seas. These fossils resemble
the Nautilus, and differ from the dibranchiate Spirula
in the structure of their shell, which is composed of two
layers, the outer porcellanous, the inner pearly; whereas
the Spirula—an internal shell—is entirely nacreous. They
also agree with the Nautilus in the relative capacity ot
their last chamber, which seems obviously large enough
to contain the whole animal. Moreover, it appears, from
the position of the siphuncle and the form of the aperture,
that these shells were revolutely spiral, or coiled over the
back of the animal, and not involute like the Spirula. No
traces of fossil sepia or horny claws have been found asso¬
ciated with them, nor any indications of dense muscular
tissue, even in the same matrix which has preserved so
completely the mummy cuttle-fish. By their form and
size they were ill adapted for rapid locomotion, and must
have depended for safety on the shelter afforded by their
solid shell. The discoidal Ammonites attained a diameter
approaching 3 feet, and the straight-shelled Orthocerata
were sometimes not less than 6 fleet in length. These
latter must have lived habitually in a position nearly ver¬
tical ; whilst the discoidal genera would creep over the
sea-bed with their air-chambers above them, like a snail-
shell reversed. The Ammonites appear to have been pro¬
vided with an operculum, more secure than the “hood” of
the Nautilus, but, like it, composed of two elements united
by a straight suture. These opercula, frequently mistaken
for bivalve shells, have a porous structure altogether pecu¬
liar, and are frequently sculptured on their outer convex
surface ; whilst their concavity exhibits only lines of growth
(fig. 21, 7.) Special forms are associated, in all localities,
with particular species of ammonite; and their size is
adapted exactly to the specimens in which they are found.
Calcareous mandibles occur in all the secondary strata,
but not (hitherto) in such numbers or circumstances as to
imply that they belonged to any other genus beside the
true Nautilus. They are of two forms : those correspond¬
ing to the upper mandible (fig. 21, 8) have been called
Rhyncholites {Palceoteuthis and Rynchoteuthis of D’Orb-
igny) ; whilst the lower mandibles constitute the “genus”
Gonchorhynchus of De Blainville (fig. 21, 9). The arms of
the extinct Tetrabranchs may have been organized like
those of the Nautilus, but were probably less numerous in
the genera with slender shells, and in those early forms
with a small many-lobed aperture. The length of the
body-chamber is greatest when its diameter is least; and
the prominent spines which ornament the exterior are par¬
titioned off internally by a nacreous lamina, indicating con¬
siderable motion of the animal in its shell. When the
outer shell of the fossil is removed by decomposition or
the hammer, the margins of the internal septa (or parti-
112
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mollusca. t;ons Gf the air-chambers) are exposed,
lines are called sutures.
The chambered shells may be divided into two principal
grovios: those with simple sutures, like the recent Nauti¬
lus; and the Ammonitidae, in which the margins of the septa
are .obed and foliaceous. In the former the siphuncle is
central or internal (i.e., at the margin next the spire); in
tfie latter it is external {i.e., at the back ot the shell, but
ventral as regards the animal). There are, however, Nau¬
tili with lobed sutures {Aturia, Bronn, fig. 19, i); and some
with an external siphuncle {Cryptoceras, D’Orb.) And on
the other hand, the sutures of the Ammonite are at first
very slightly lobed, and become progressively more com¬
plex ; so that specimens of the same species have been re¬
ferred to three genera—Goniatites, Ceratites, and Ammon¬
ites—according to their age.
With the exception of Goniatites, the Ammonitidce are
peculiar to, and co-extensive with, the secondary strata;
while the Nautilidce, with the exception of Nautilus and
Aturia, are confined to the palaeozoic rocks. But the
so-called palaeozoic Nautilidce exhibit peculiarities suggest¬
ing very wide differences. It has been proposed to asso¬
ciate the greater part of them with the Orthocerata as a
distinct family, but at present the data are defective. Like
the Ammonitidce, their shells assume almost every conceiv¬
able form and curvature, and the genera founded on these
characters are very ill defined.
The simplest form of Orthoceras is like a Nautilus un¬
rolled ; and Lituites (fig. 20, 2) is the same with the apex
spiral. Some of the carboniferous Nautili have a square
back, and the whirls either compact or open in the centre
(fio-. 20, 1); whilst the last chamber is more or less disunited.
The species with the whirls quite disunited constitute
the genus Trigonoceras, M4C. { — Nautiloceras, D Oib.)
The Silurian genus Trochoceras, Barr, is a spiral Nautilus.
Clymenia, a characteristic Devonian fossil, has angular
sutures and an internal siphuncle ; it may perhaps be coiled
up ventrally like the Spirula. The tertiary shell called
Nautilus zic-zac {Aturia, Br., fig. 19, 1, 2), which is so
widely distributed in Europe, America, and India, has a
siphuncle nearly marginal when young, but gradually be¬
coming more central in the adult: it has no special relation
to Clymenia.
Those species of Orthocerata in which the aperture is
contracted form the genus Apioceras, Fischer { = Poterio-
ceras, M‘C.), or when also curved, the Oncoceras of Hall,
in Barrande’s genus Ascoceras (fig. 20, 9) the shell is
flask-shaped, the chambered and siphunculated apex being
apparently deciduous; the aperture is contracted, and the
air-chambers occupy only the dorsal half of the shell. In
Phraqmoceras (fig. 20, 7), the shell is slightly curved to the
ventral side, and the aperture is remarkably contracted,
the opening for the respiratory funnel being nearly distinct
from the cephalic aperture. In Cyrtoceras the curvature
is dorsal. „ , ,
In some other members of this family the siphuncle at¬
tains a remarkable size or extraordinary complexity.
In Camaroceras (fig. 20, 4), the siphuncle is latera ,
quite simple, and equal to half the diameter of the she .
Casts of these great siphuncles were called “ Hyohtes by
Eichwald ; they frequently contain small shells of Ortho¬
ceras, Bellerophon, and other genera. In some species
the siphuncle is strengthened internally by repeated layers
of shell, or partitioned off by a succession of funnel-shaped
diaphragms; these constitute the genus Endoceras of Hall.
The same author has given the name Piscosorus to a fos¬
sil which is evidently the siphuncle of some very delicate
and perishable chambered shell (fig. 20, 6). In those
Orthocerata with siphuncles most nearly resembling the
These marmnal Discosorus they diminish rapidly towards the last chamber. Mollusca.
Perhaps the most remarkable fossil of this group is the
Fig. 20.
Nautiloceras Omalii, De Kon.; Carboniferous, Belgium.
Xituites (Bragnius), U. Silurian, Sweden.
Section of Clymenia, showing internal siphuncle ; Devonian. Petherwm
Section of Camaroceras duplex, Wahl.; L. Silurian, Russia.
Siphuncle of Huronia Bigsbyi, Stokes; with outline of shell, and septa.
Siphuncle of Discosorus, Hall; U. Silurian, Lake Huron.
Phragmoceras ventricosum, Shy.; L. Ludlow rock, Herefordshire.
Gyroceras Eifeliense, D’Arch.; Devonian, Prussia.
Ascoceras Bohemicum, Barr.; U. Silurian, Prague.
Goniatites, Henslowi, Shy. ; Carboniferous, Asturias.
Huronia (fig. 20, 5), found in the upper Silurian limestone
of Drummond Island. Siphuncles 6 feet in length and
inch in diameter, were seen by Dr Bigsby in the cliffs ;
they are silicified, and stand out in bold relief from the
matrix, but are unaccompanied by any vestige of the shell,
except in one or two instances, where the septa are faintly
indicated by coloured lines. They are sometimes over¬
grown with coral, and were evidently so durable as to remain
on the sea-bed long after the shell itself had decayed. The
joints of the siphuncle are swollen at the upper part, and
the interior is filled with an irregularly-radiated structure,
apparently produced by the plaiting and calcification of the
lining membrane. This structure also exists and is very
regular in the siphuncle of the Devonian Orthoceras trigon-
ale, and in the shells referred to Gyroceras by D’Orbigny
(fig. 20, 8); also in Actinoceras, a sub-genus of Ortho¬
ceras, discovered by Dr Bigsby, and described by Stokes
{Geol. Trans., vol. i., 1825). The plication of this in¬
terior structure takes place in segments corresponding to
the septa, and meeting in the centres of the siphuncular
beads, leaving spaces or foramina for the passage of blood¬
vessels to the lining membrane of the air-chambers.1 The
vascularity of the latter is well shown in the impression of
septa on the fine mudstones of the Ludlow rock, often mis¬
taken for Spongaria, which they somewhat resemble.
Towards the conclusion of its growth the air-chambers
of the Orthoceras frequently become shallower, and the
siphuncle diminishes in size. 1 hese indications of changed
or diminished energies are accompanied by a diminution or
disappearance of the internal radiated structure in the last
part of the siphuncle.
In Orthoceras bisiphonatum {Tretoceras, Salter) the
body-chamber is prolonged in the form of a marginal lobe,
simulating a second siphuncle.
The genus Bactrites of Sandberger also resembles an
Orthoceras with single-lobed sutures.
Ammonitidce.—In the second division or family of cham¬
bered shells—those with lobed sutures and a marginal si¬
phuncle—we find a similar series of forms,—straight, spiral,
and discoidal, but more varied and more highly ornamented.
One large genus {Goniatites, fig. 20, to) is found in
the Devonian, carboniferous, and triassic strata, and per¬
manently resembles the youngest form of the Ammonites,
1 In the carboniferous species of Actinoceras {e.g., A. giganteum), these foramina form a cross on the ventral side of the siphuncle.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
113
Mollusca.
having the sutures lobed but not foliated. They seldom ex¬
ceed 6 inches in diameter, and are usually very much smaller.
Fig. 21.
1. Ceratites nodosus; MuschelkalJc, Bavaria.
2. Ammonites Duncani (spinosus, Sby.) ; Oxford Clay, Wilts.
3. Turrilites.
4. Baculites.
5. Hamites.
6. Ancyloceras.
7. Trigonellites.
8. (Rhyncholites hirundo), upper mandible of Nautilus arietis, Rein.,
Muschelkalh.
9. Lower mandible (Conchorynchus avirostris.)
The whirls are most frequently concealed to some extent,
and often marked by cross furrows or “ periodic mouths.”
The Ceratites are distinguished by having the lobes of
the sutures serrated, while the intervening “ saddles” (or
curves directed towards the aperture) are simple. They
are found in the trias of Europe, Thibet, and South Ame¬
rica; and again very rarely in the cretaceous strata of
France and Syria,—a circumstance quite anomalous in the
history of the geological distribution of life. Many Am¬
monites, perhaps all, are like Ceratites when young.
The species of Ammonite exceed 500; and their range
is co-extensive with that of the secondary rocks. They are
found throughout Europe, and at the Cape, in Kamtschatka,
Thibet, and S. India. They are absent from a large area of
the United States, but are found in the cretaceous strata
of New Jersey, Missouri, and the West Indian Islands ; also
in Chile and Bogota. The sections into which, for the sake
of convenience, this extremely natural group has been
broken up, are very ill defined, and have no pretension to
be considered sub-generic. The group (called Cassiani)
characterizing the triassic period, is remarkable for many-
lobed and elaborately-foliated sutures,—a circumstance more
important, because it is the oldest group, and associated
with Ceratites and the last-surviving Goniatites and Ortho-
cerata. They abound in the “alpine limestone” of St
Cassian, and Hallstatt in Austria. A second group
(Arietes), having the back keeled, with a furrow on each
side of the keel, as in the great Ammonites called Buck-
landi and Coneybearei, mark the lias period; they are
less plentiful in the oolites, and are represented in the
greensands by the “ Cristati,” which are keeled, but not fur¬
rowed, and develop a “ beak,” or process, from the keel when
adult. The “ Arietes” pass by many intermediate forms
into the “ Falciferi” (e.g., A. serpentinus'), also characteristic
of the upper lias, and these are represented by a few quoit¬
shaped species (Disci), with sharp backs, in the oolites.
Ammonites with serrated keels (Amalthei), exemplified
by A. spinatus and margaritatus, abound in the middle and
upper lias, and again in the oolites (e.g., A. cordatus and ex-
cavatus). They are succeeded by the “ Ilothomagenses” in
the chalk,—thick Ammonites with a line of tubercles in the
place of the keel.
Ammonites with channelled backs (CW/«Wo£?) are repre¬
sented in the lias (A. anguliferus), inferior oolites (A.
Parkinsoni), and middle oolite (A. anceps), and in the
VOL. XVII.
cretaceous strata by numerous species (e.g., A. serratus, Mollusca.
lautus, and falcatus), remarkable for their elegance.
Of the species with backs more or less squared, armatus
and capricornus occur in the lias, athleta and perarmatus
in the Oxfordian. But the oolitic forms which have the
back square, and ornamented with two rows of spines when
young, like Goweri, Duncani (fig. 21, 2), and Jason, be¬
come rounded and unarmed in their old age.
Round-backed Ammonites abound in the lias and oolites.
The snake-like Annulatus, the spine-bearing coronatus,
and fimbriatus with its ornamental fringes, have been re¬
garded as types of small groups. A more important division
(ligata) is distinguished by nearly smooth whirls, constric¬
tions recurring at regular intervals. These are seen in A. ta-
tricus, and others related to Heterophyllus ; in many neoco-
mian Ammonites, and in A. planulatus of the lower chalk.
These constrictions, often accompanied by a prominent
rib, undoubtedly indicate periods of rest, when the Am¬
monite ceased for awhile to grow. rI hey may be traced
in species belonging to other groups, as well, e.g., in biplex
and triplicatus, as in the ligati; but most frequently all
indications are obliterated by subsequent growth. It has
been a question whether the lateral processes of Ammonites
Duncani (fig. 21, 2), are formed and removed periodically,
or whether they are peculiar to the adults, and mark the
close of their outward growth. The first conclusion is
more probable from analogy ; and they are commonly found
with small and apparently young shells, but not (any more
than the- lateral spines of the living Argonaut) in those of
adult size and condition.
It was remarked by the elder Sowerby that Ammonites
were most beautiful when of middle growth, the ornamental
characters being less developed in the young, and lost in
the adult. The ribs and spines, and even the keel or fur¬
row of the back disappear, in many instances, from the
body-whirl of the full-grown shell.
Varieties of form, such as marked the palaeozoic Nauti-
lidce, are met with in the Ammonitidce, chiefly towards the
close of their reign. The Baculite (fig. 21, 4), with its
straight shell, is characteristic of the upper chalk ; and the
Turrilite, which is spiral, and usually a left-handed spiral,
abounds in the lowest beds of the same formation. In
Hamites the shell is straight, returning upon itself after a
certain space, and forming a simple or complex hook. In
Ptychoceras these limbs of the hook-like shell are in close
contact. The Toxoceras is curved like a bow; in Cno-
ceras the discoidal whirls are separate ; and in Scaphites
(including Ancyloceras) the shell, at first compact like an
Ammonite, or open-whirled like Crioceras, lengthens out
finally, and returns upon itself like the crozier of the Hamite.
Helicoceras, again, connects the last with the Furrilite by
its elevated spire terminating in a prolonged crozier.
Of these forms, Ancyloceras alone is found in the oolites ;
all the rest are cretaceous; and most abound in the alpine
districts of the south of France.
Ordtr 2.—Dibranchiata.
(Cuttle-fishes.)
Of the two great divisions of cephalopodous Mollusca,
that which is represented at the present day by the pearly
Nautilus was developed in the greatest profusion and variety
in the palaeozoic and secondary periods; whilst the more
active and intelligent cuttle-fishes and squids have not
been (certainly) found in rocks older than the lias, and
scarcely above 100 are found in the whole secondary and
tertiary series, while twice as many have been obtained
in existing seas.
The Sepiadce are represented in the middle and upper
oolites by the genus Coccoteuthis (fig. 22, 6), whose strong
and granulated bone is furnished with broader lateral ex¬
pansions than the recent cuttle-fishes. In the older ter-
p
114
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mollusca. tiaries of London and Paris, many species of Sepia appear
to have existed, but only the solid mucro (fig. 22, 5 ) the
shell is usually preserved. In the miocene tertiary of
Malta, a diminutive cuttle-bone is not rare; and at Turin
a remarkable form (Spirulirostra, fig. 22, 7) has been dis¬
covered, in which the apex is provided with a chambered
and siphonated cavity like the shell of the Spirula. Two
other genera, Beloptera (fig. 22, 8) and Belemnoris, very
imperfectly known by rare and fragmentary examples, occur
in the eocene tertiary.
Remains of the Calamaries (Loligidce) are often found
in the fine-grained and laminated argillaceous limestones of
the lias and Oxford clays, as at Lyme Regis, and Boll of
Solenhofen. Some of these are slender, like the pens of the
recent Omonastrephes, and furnished with a small conical
appendix, as in that genus; whilst others are broad, and
pointed at each end (Beloteuthis). The most common
form has the shaft wide and longer than the wings, and is
truncated posteriorly. It has a nacreous lining, and is
usually accompanied by a large and well-preserved ink-bag
(fig. 22, 4). These were called Belemtiosepia by Agassiz
and Buckland, who supposed them to belong to the same
animal with the Belemnite. They have also been called
Loligo-sepice and Loliginites; but the name Geoteuthis,
given by Count Munster, appears least objectionable. One
species (Mastigoph or vs latijicum) is of frequent occurrence
in the Oxford clay near Chippenham, which retains not
only the horny {chitinous) pen and ink-bag, but also the
muscular slieve, the rhombic terminal fins, and at least the
bases of the arms, with the minute hooks, and traces of the
mandibles. Horny claws, like those of the uncinated Ca-
lamary (Onychoteuthis), have been observed arranged in
double series in the lias of Watchett, and they sometimes
occur in great numbers in the coprolitic remains of the
Enaliosauri. The most remarkable examples of this kind
are preserved in the lithographic limestones of Solenhofen,
and show that the extinct Calamary had ten nearly equal
arms, the tentacles, in their retracted condition, being un-
distinguishable from the rest—each furnished with 20 to
30 pairs of formidable hooks. What further evidence was
Fig. 22.
1. Belemnites Oweni; Oxford Clay, Chippenham, p. Phragmocone
exposed by the removal of the fibrous guard from one side; s,
septum, showing the marginal siphuncle.
2. Acanthoteuthis antiquus (Cunnington); Oxford CUy, Chippenham;
dorsal aspect.
3. Conoteuthis Dupinii; Qault, Tolkestone.
4. Geoteuthis.
5. Sepia.
6. Coccoteuthis.
7. Spirulirostra.
8. Beloptera anomala.
needed respecting the nature of this creature has been
supplied by the Chippenham fossils, which in all probabi¬
lity are identical in genus, if not in species, with the Anca-
thoteuthis, described by Munster. One of these extraor- Mollusca.
dinary fossils—the mummy of a cuttle-fish more ancient
than the chalk formation and the upper oolites—is repre¬
sented in fig. 22, 2, reduced to one-sixth from the original in
the British Museum. Nine of the arms are preserved, the
sclerotic plates of the eyes, the bases of the large lateral
fins, the small ink-bag, and the conical shell. This shell,
which is chambered internally, like the phragmocone of the
Belemnite (fig. 22, x), has an outer sheath of fibrous struc¬
ture, one-fourth of an inch thick at the apex, and furnished
with two converging ridges on its dorsal side; the external
surface, however, is horny (or chitinous), like the pen of the
Calamary. These chambered shells occur in great numbers,
and are so like the phragmocones of the associated Belem¬
nites, both in structure and proportions, that it is difficult to
avoid believing they are in some way related; but hitherto
they have only been noticed in the laminated Oxford clay of
Wilts and the equivalent lithographic shales of Solenhofen.
The Belemnite, on the other hand, is found in all the
oolitic and cretaceous strata, from the lowest lias to the
upper chalk. In its ordinary imperfect state, it is a cylin¬
der pointed at one end, and truncated or excavated by a
funnel-shaped cavity {alveolus) at the other, and has a
radiating fibrous structure, with less distinct concentric
laminae of growth. But even this “ guard,” which corre¬
sponds simply7 to the mucro of the cuttle-bone, exhibits such
remarkable modifications of form, that nearly 100 species
have been founded upon no higher evidence. In some
Belemnites of half an inch diameter, the guard is scarcely
an inch longer than the phragmocone, whilst in others it
attains a length of ten inches, and is tubular, as in B. acua-
rius. Some are fusiform, others laterally compressed;
some have a longitudinal groove extending from the apex
along the upper or under side, and in others the apex is
furrowed laterally as well. The Belemnites of the chalk
have been called Belemnitellce (D’Orb.), because they have
a slit in the ventral side of the alveolar border of the guard;
their external surface also exhibits more distinct traces of
vascular impressions.
Specimens of Belemnite have been discovered in which
the guard had been broken during the lifetime of the
animal; but the broken portions being held together by
the investing organized integuments, had been re-united
by the deposition of new layers of the fibrous structure
peculiar to the guard. Several examples of Belemnites,
with the apex injured and healed during life, are preserved
in the British Museum. In all perfect Belemnites, the
alveolus is occupied by a phragmocone, with tender nacreous
walls and septa, and terminating in a minute globular apex,
and perforated by a ventral siphuncle (fig. 22, 1). The
last chamber is rarely preserved, and appears to have
thinned off into a mere horny sheath, with sometimes two
pearly bands like knife-blades on the dorsal side. It must
have been sufficiently capacious to contain all the viscera.
The ink-bag has been very rarely found, and is even
smaller than in the last genus, as if in relation to the more
greatly developed shell.
The Conoteuthis (fig. 22, 3) of the Gault has an oblique
phragmacone, with a very thin shell, and seems to have
been attached to a slender style, like the funnel-shaped
appendix of the gladius in the recent sagittated Calamary.
Mr Dana has described, under the name Helicerus
Fugiensis, a belemnitoid fossil from the “ slate” rock of
Cape Horn. It is half an inch in diameter, has a thick
fibrous guard, and the slender phragmacone terminates in
a fusiform spiral nucleus.1
Subjoined is a table of the extinct genera of the mollus¬
cous province:—
For the drawings and most of tha fact, relating to invertebrate fossils, the writer is indebted to his eaperienced colleague in charge
of that department of the British Museum, Mr S. P. Woodward, F.G.S.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
115
Vertebrata. Brachiopoda.—Trigonosemus, Lyra, Magas, Rhynchora,
Zellania, Stringocephalus, Meganteris; Spirif'era,
Cyrtia, Suessia, Athyris, Merista, Retzia, Uncites ; Ca-
marophoria, Porambonites, Pentaraerus, Atrypa, Ano-
plotheca ; Orthis, Orthisina, Strophomena, Koninckia,
Davidsonia, Calceola; Producta, Chonetes, Aulos-
teges, Strophalosia; Trematis, Siphonotreta, Obolus.
Conchifera.—Gryphaea, Exogyra, Limanomia, Carolia,
Placunopsis, Neithea, Eligmus; Pteroperna, Aucella,
Ambonychia, Cardiola, Eurydesma, Pterinea, Monotis,
Posidonomya, Aviculopecten, Gervillia, Streblopteria,
Pulvinites, Inoceramus, Trichites; Megalina, Or-
thonotus, Modiolopsis, Hoplomytilns; Macrodon,
Isoarca, Bakewellia, Nuculina, Nucinella, Cucullella,
Ctenodonta; Myophoria, Axinus, Lyrodesma; Di-
ceras, Monopleura, Requienia; Hippurites, Radio-
lites, Caprinella, Caprina, Caprotina; Lithocardium,
Conocardiura, Corbicella, Sphaera, Unicardium, Tan-
credia, Volupia; Pleurophorus, Myoconcha, Anthra-
cosia, Megalodon, Pachydomus, Pachyrisma, Cleobis,
Maeonia, Opis, Cardinia, Hippopodium, Megaloma;
Grateloupia, Sowerbya, Quenstedtia, Goniophora, Re-
donia; Cercomya, Myacites, Goniomya, Grammyria,
Ceromya, Cardiomorpha, Edmondia, Ribeiria.
Gasteropoda.—Bellerophon, Porcellia, Cyrtolites, Eccu-
liomphalus; Rimella, Hippocrena, Alaria, Spinigera,
Amberlya; Leiostomus, Strepsidura, Purpurina, Co-
lumbellina, Borsonia, Conorbis; Euspira, Naticopsis,
Globulus, Deshayesia, Loxonema, Macrochilus;
Diastoma, Nerinaea, Brachytrema, Ceritella, Vicarya,
Scoliostoma, Proto, Holopella, Catantostoma, Nati-
cella; Platyceras, Metoptoma, Hypodema, Deslon-
champsia; Euomphalus, Ophileta, Phanerotinus, Ser-
pularia, Discohelix, Platystoma, Crossostoma, Pleuro-
tomaria, Murchisonia, Polytremaria, Cirrus, Trocho-
toma, Platyschisma, Scalites, Rhaphistoma, Holopea,
Maclurea; Neritoma, Velates, Pileolus; Helmin-
thochiton; Lychnus, Dendropupa, Ferussina; Cy-
lindrites, Acteonina, Acteonella, Cinulia, Globiconcha,
Varigera, Tylostoma, Pterodonta, Volvaria, Chilos-
toma; Vaginella, Theca, Pterotheca, Canularia.
Cephalopoda.—Aturia, Discites, Nautiloceras, Trigono-
ceras, Temnochilus, Lituites, Trocholites, Trochoceras,
Clymenia; Orthoceras, Camaroceras, Huronia, Ac-
tinoceras, Discosorus, Gonioceras, Tretoceras, Apio-
ceras, Gomphoceras, Phragmoceras, Cyrtoceras, Gy-
roceras, Ascoceras; Goniatites, Bactrites, Ceratites,
Ammonites, Crioceras, Toxiceras, Ancyloceras, Sca-
phites, Helicoceras, Turrilites, Hamites, Ptychoceras,
Baculites; Teudopsis, Beloteuthis, Geoteuthis, Lep-
toteuthis, Belemnites, Acanthoteuthis, Helicerus, Co-
noteuthis, Coccoteuthis, Belosepia, Spirulirostra, Be-
loptera, Belemnosis.
Province IY.—YERTEBRATA.
There is an enormous series of subaqueous sediment, ori¬
ginally composed of mud, sand, or pebbles, the successive
bottoms of a former sea, derived from pre-existing rocks,
which has not undergone any change from heat, and in
which no trace of organic life has yet been detected. These
non-fossiliferous, non-crystalline, sedimentary beds form, in
all countries where they have yet been examined, the base-
rocks on which the Cambrian or oldest Silurian strata rest.
Whether they be significative of ocean abysses never
reached by the remains of coeval living beings, or whether
tlley truly indicate the period antecedent to the beginning
of life on this planet, are questions of the deepest signifi¬
cance, and demanding much farther observation before they
can be authoritatively answered.
It has been shown that every type of invertebrate animal Vertebrata.
is represented in the superimposed stratified deposits called
Cambrian and lower Silurian.
An important work,1 embodying the labours of the ac¬
complished naturalist and acute observer, Dr Christian H.
Pander, has recently been published by the Russian govern¬
ment, descriptive of the fossil fishes of the Silurian for¬
mations of that empire. Of some hundred fossils described
and beautifully figured in this work, and referred to different
genera and species of fishes, from lower Silurian rocks, the
writer, after the closest comparison and consideration of the
evidence, is disposed to regard only those referred by Pan¬
der to the genera Ctenognathus, Cordylodus, and Gna-
thodus, as having any probable claims to vertebrate rank;
and to this admission must be appended the remark, that
the parts referred to jaws and teeth may be but remains of
the dentated claws of Crustacea. With regard to the
fossils called “ Conodonts,” on which the main part of M.
Pander’s evidence of lower Silurian fishes rests, the follow¬
ing remarks, penned after microscopic examination of speci¬
mens kindly submitted to the writer by Sir Roderick Mur¬
chison, are applicable to them.
Minute, glistening, slender, conical bodies, hollow at the
base, pointed at the end, more or less bent, with sharp oppo¬
site margins, might well be lingual teeth of Gastropods, aceta¬
bular booklets of Cephalopods,or teeth of cartilaginous fishes.
Against the latter determination is the minute size of the
“ Conodont” bodies. Their basal cavity doubtless contained
a formative pulp, but the proof that the product of such
pulp was “ dentine” is wanting : the observed structure of
the booklet presents concentric conical lamellae of a dense
structureless substance, containing minute nuclei or cells.
In some specimens the base is abruptly produced and
divided from the body of the booklet by a constriction,—
a form unknown in the teeth of any fishes, but pre¬
sented by certain lingual teeth of Gastropods,—e.g., the
lateral teeth of Spardla. In other Conodonts the elon¬
gated base is denticulate or serrate, as in the lateral teeth
of Buccinum and Chrgsodomus. It is improbable, how¬
ever, that they belong to any conchiferous toothed Mollusk,
the shells of such being wanting in the deposit where the
Conodonts are most abundant.
The more minute booklets have a yellowish, transparent,
horny appearance ; the larger, perhaps older ones, present a
harder whitish appearance. Their analysis by Pander
yielded “ carbonate of lime,” carbonic acid being evolved by
application of dilute nitric acid, and oxalic acid producing
an obvious precipitate. Some English analysts have be¬
lieved that the Conodonts yielded a trace of phosphate of
lime.
The detached condition of the booklets, and the integrity
of the thin border of the basal pulp-cavity, indicate that they
have not been broken away from any of those kinds of
attachment to a bone which the minute villiform teeth of
osseous fishes would show signs of. The Conodonts have
been supported upon a soft substance, such as the skin of
a Mollusk or worm, the mucous membrane of a mouth, or
throat, or the covering of a proboscis; but to select the
teeth of cyclostomous or plagiostomous fishes as the ex¬
clusive illustration of the above condition, is to take a partial
and limited view of the subject.
In comparing the Conodonts with the teeth of fishes, they
present, as Dr Pander recognises, most resemblance with
the conical, pointed, horny teeth ofMyxinoids and Lampreys
in that class : and the absence of any other hard part in the
strata containing the Conodonts tallies with the condition
of the cyclostomatous skeleton ; but not more than it does
with the like soft condition of annelidous worms and naked
Mollusks. But the teeth of all known Cyclostomes are
Monographie der Fossilen Fische (Untenilurische Fische, Conodonten, &C.), 4to, Petersburgh, 1856.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
116
Vertebrata. much less slender and are less varied in form than in the
Conodonts. Certain lingual plates of Myxinoids are serrate,
Plagios- but not with a main denticle of much greater length,—such
tomes. as shown in the form of the Conodont called Machctirodus
by Pander. Most cyclostomous teeth are simple, thick
cones, with a subcircular base ; and every known tooth of
a cyclostomous fish is much larger than any of the forms
of Conodon, which rarely equal half a line in length. I his
minuteness of size, with the peculiarities of form, supports
a reference of the Conodonts rather to some soft invertebrate
genus. Certain parts of small Crustacea,—e.g., the pygidium
or tail of some minute Entomostraca,—resemble in shape
the more simple Conodonts; but when we perceive that
these bodies occur in thousands, detached, with entire
bases, and that any part of the carapace, or shell of an
Entomostracan or other Crustacean, has been rarely de¬
tected in the lower Silurian Conodont beds, it is highly
improbable that they can have belonged to an organism
protected by a substance as susceptible ot preservation as
their own substance. Much more likely is it that the body
to which the minute booklets were attached was as soluble
and perishable as the soft pulp upon which the Conodont
was sheathed. The writer finds no form of spine, denticle,
or booklet in any Echinoderm, and especially in any soft-
bodied one, to match the Conodonts; and concludes that
they have most analogy with the spines, or booklets, or
denticles of naked Mollusks or Annelides. The formal
publication of these minute ambiguous bodies of the oldest
fossiliferous rocks, as evidences of fishes, is much to be
deprecated.
Order I.—PLAGIOSTOMI.
(Sharks, Rays.)
Char.—Endo-skeleton cartilaginous or partially ossified;
exo-skeleton placoid ; gills fixed with five or more gill-
apertures ; no swim-bladder; scapular arch detached
from the head ; ventrals abdominal; intestine with spiral
i, valve.1
The earliest good evidence which has been obtained of
a vertebrate animal in the earth’s crust is a spine, of the
nature of the dorsal spine of the dog-fish (Acanthias), and
of the dorsal spines of the extinct Acanthodii. It occurs
in the most recent deposits of the Silurian period, in the
formation called “ Ludlow rock.” Its discovery is due
to Murchison ;2 3 its determination to Agassiz, who assigns it to
a o-enus of plagiostomous cartilaginous fishes called Onchus.
The Onchus spines from the Ludlow bone-beds are com¬
pressed, slightly curved, less than two inches in length, with
no trace at their base of the joint characteristic of the dor¬
sal spines of the “ sheat-fishes ” (Ganoids of the family Sdu-
ridce) or “ file-fishes ” {Balistidre). The sides of the spine
are finely grooved lengthwise, with rounded ribs between
the grooves. They are referred to two species—Onchus
Murchisoni, and O. semistriatus. Sir P. Egerton has
lately figured another species from the argillaceous beds
near Ludlow, which is more curved, and is armed along
the posterior edge; the longitudinal ribs are fine and numer¬
ous, but are constricted at intervals, as in the genus Ueua-
canthus, and become subtuberculate at the base. He deems
them significant of a distinct genus of shark-like fishes.
With the dorsal spines of Onchus are found petrified
portions of skin, tubercular and prickly, like the shagreen of
shark’s skin, and referred to a genus called Sphagodus;
also coprolitic bodies of phosphate and carbonate ot lime,
including recognisable parts of the small Mollusks and Cn- Vertebrata.
noids which inhabited the sea-bottom in company with
the Onchus-fish. No vertebrae, or other parts of the endo-
skeleton of a fish, have been discovered, unless the fragments
of a calcified bar, with tooth-like processes, called Plectrodus,
be truly jaws with teeth. They resemble, however, parts
of the pincer-claws of Crustaceans, as well as of the jaws
and teeth of fishes, and do not indicate that class so satisfac¬
torily as the Onchus spines and Sphagodus shagreen. Yet
the denticles are confluent with an outer ridge of the bone,
according to the “ pleurodont” type, and consist of separated
large teeth, with minute serial teeth in the interspaces ;
and the large teeth are grooved longitudinally.4
If the Plectrodonts be jaws with anchylosed teeth, they
belong to an order distinct from the Plagiostomi. If they
should belong to any of the fishes indicated by the dorsal
spines and shagreen skin, a combination of characters would
be exemplified not known in other formations or in any
existing fishes. . .
No detached teeth unequivocally referable to a plagi¬
ostomous genus, nor any true ganoid scale of a fish,
have yet been found in the formations that have revealed
these earliest known evidences ot vertebrate animals. What,
then, it may be asked, were the conditions under which so
immense an extent, as well as amount, of sediment was
deposited,—including chambered Cephalopods, Gastropods,
Lamellibranchs, Brachiopods, various and large trilobitic
Crustaceans, with Crinoids, Polypes, and Protozoa,—-that
precluded the preservation of the fossilizable parts of fishes,
if that class of vertebrate animals had existed in numbers,
and under the variety of forms, comparable to those that
people the ocean at the present day ? Bonitos now pur¬
sue flying-fishes through the upper regions of an ocean as
deep as any known part of the Silurian seas of which the
deposits afford an idea of greatest depth. If fishes of cog¬
nate habits with the present deep-sea fishes, under what¬
ever difference of form such Silurian fishes may have been
manifested, had really existed, we might reasonably expect
to find the remains of some of the countless generations that
succeeded each other during that vast and indefinite period
sufficing for the gradual deposition of sedimentary beds of
thousands of feet in depth or vertical thickness.
The evidences of plagiostomous fishes afforded by fossil
spines will be here pursued. In most of the existing cartilagin¬
ous fishes of this order the defensive spine which stands erect
in front of the dorsal fin is smooth ; such is the case in the
dog-fishes (Spinacidce) in which each dorsal fin is fronted
with a spine. In the Port-Jackson sharks (Cestraaontidce)
the spine in front of each dorsal is bony, and is armed
its hinder or concave border wfith bent spines. The fin is
connected with this border, and its movements are regu¬
lated by the elevation or depression of the spine during the
peculiar rotatory action of the body of the shark. I his
action of the spine in raising and depressing the fin re¬
sembles, Dr Buckland has remarked, that ot the moveable
or jointed mast, raising and lowering backwards the sail of
a barge. But their more obvious use, in the small Plagi-
ostomes possessing such spines, is as defensive weapons
against the larger and stronger voracious fishes.
Certain bony fishes are similarly armed, c.g., sticklebacks
(Gasterostei), sheat-fishes (Siluridce), trigger-fishes (Ba¬
tistes), and some species of snipe-fishes (PistularidcB). In
the latter family the Centriscus humerosus (fig. 23) shows a
dorsal spine, denticulated behind, as in the Cestracionts, but
the base of the spine in bony fishes is peculiarly modified for
1 For an explanation of the technical term, in these characters, see the article Ichthyology, especially of the scales, vol. xii., p. 216.
2 Silurian System, ch. xlv., p. 606. , * i u MQC=!r.a Nnrwrtod and Dale Owen to the Silurian formation, a
3 In a formation in Indiana, United States of America referred by M®ss™ Pterichthys has been discovered, and called Macro-
badiy-preserved fossil considered as an Ichthyolite, and referred to a f £ March 1857, p. 288,’ pL x„ figs. 2-4.
pitalichthys raphudolabis. (bilhman s Joitrna/, 1846, p. 367.; nge u,
Vertebrata.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
nr
articulation with another bone. In the Plagiostomes the
base of the spine is hollow, becomes thin and smooth when
the body of the spine is sculptured, and is in the recent
fish implanted in the flesh.
The following genera of plagiostomous fishes have been
Fig. 23.
Centriscus humerosus.
founded on the fossil spines, or “ ichthyodorulites,” which
have been discovered in the “ Devonian,” or “ Old Red
Sandstone series.” Onchus (represented by O. semistriatus,
O. heterogyrus\ Dimer acanthus^ Haplacanthus, Narcodes,
Naulas, Byssacanthus, Cosmacanthus, Homacanthus (fig.
24), Ctenacanthm, Pty acanthus, Climatius, Parexus,
Odontacanthus, and Pleuracanthus.
The genus Homacanthus is founded on small compressed
spines, with fine recurved teeth on the back edge, ^
and longitudinal striae on the sides. Specimens
of Homacanthus arcuatus (fig. 24) have been
found in Devonian formations near St Petersburg.
The carboniferous series of formations includes
the mountain limestone, millstone grit, and the
coal measures (see fig. 1). In this series the
genus Onchus is still represented by the O. sul-
catus, O. rectus, and O. subulatus; and the genus
Homacanthus, by H. macrodus and H. rnicro-
dus, from the carboniferous limestone of Armagh. .
Ptyacanthus, Ctenacanthus, and Pleuracanthus J.
are also forms common to the Devonian and car- Fig. 24.
boniferous periods. The spine of the latter genus Homacan-
is denticulated along both margins, a structure thus ar-
which is presented, in existing Plagiostomes, cuatus.
only by species of the ray family: Pleuracan- (Devoman,
thus, therefore, as Agassiz concludes, may offer Ku!>sia )
the earliest example of the flat form of cartilaginous fish,
which is represented by the sting-rays {Trigon, Myliobates)
in the present seas. The ichthyodorulite
{ichthys, a fish; dora, a spear; lithos, a stone)
here selected to illustrate this fossil, is a por¬
tion of the spine of the Pleuracanthus levis-
simus (fig. 25), from the carboniferous beds
near Dudley. The other plagiostomous ge¬
nera based upon fossil spines from the coal
formations are,— Oracanthus, Gyracanthus,
Nemacanthus, Cosmacanthus, Leptacanthus,
Homacanthus, Trystichius, Asteropterychius,
Physonemus, Sphenacanthus, Platyacanthus,
Dipriacanthus, Erismacanthus, Orthacan-
thus, Cladacanthus, Lepracanthus.
Immediately above the coal-measures lie a . n
variable series of sands and clays of different * oa ’ u c^‘
colours, including the coal plants : above this, a marl-slate
in thin layers, containing scanty evidences of fishes ; but
these are more abundant and instructive in the superin¬
cumbent magnesian limestone, in which formation near
Belfast ichthyodorulites of the genus Gyropristis (Ag.),
have been found. Above this are the penean red sand¬
stones, in which, at Westoe, have been found fossil spines
closely allied to, if not identical with, the Gyracanthus for-
Fig. 25.
Pleuracanthus
levissimus.
mosus (Ag.) The foregoing formations constitute the
uppermost of the palaeozoic series called “ Permian,” from
the Russian province in which these strata are most exten¬
sively developed. Their relative position is known by the term
“ magnesian limestone” in the “ Table of Strata,” fig. 1.
The superimposed strata, marked “ new red sandstone,”
includes also a varied series of red and white sands, marls,
and conglomerates, forming collectively the system called
“ triassic.” The ichthyodorulites of this system are refer¬
able to the genera Nemacanthus, Leiacanthus, and Hybo-
dus. In the “ lias,” which is the oldest or lowest of the
great “ oolitic” system, the dorsal spines of the genus Hy-
bodus (fig. 26), are the largest and most abundant; this
genus, however, is represented by detached teeth in the
keuper and muschelkalk members of the
“ trias.” The lias formations give evidence
that the dorsal spines and fins of Hybodus
were two in number; and the genus is
shown, both by the structure of the spine and
the form of the teeth, to have had its nearest
affinities with the Cestracion amongst existing
Plagiostomes. Hybodus continued to be re¬
presented by successive and varying specific
forms up to, and including, the cretaceous
period. Hybodus is therefore a genus of
cartilaginous fishes eminently characteristic of
the secondary or mezozoic period in palaeon¬
tology, and ranges through every formation
of that period. The specimen selected for
the illustration of the dorsal spine of Hybodus
is that of the H. subcarinatus, from the
Wealden of Tilgate Forest.
Large fossil spines, longitudinally grooved,
have been found associated with the teeth of
the extinct cestraciont genus of the chalk
called Ptychodus.
In the tertiary formations, the fossil spines
present for the most part the generic charac¬
ters of those of existing Plagiostomes,—e.g.,
Spinax, Trigon, and Myliobates; but one
form, found in the eocene beds near Paris, is
the type of the extinct genus Aulacanthus of
Agassiz.
The teeth of the plagiostomous fishes,—viz.,
sharks {Squalidce), rays (Raiidce), and Ces-
tracionts, are described in the article Odon¬
tology (vol. xvi., pp. 422-424). From the
account and figures there given, it will be
seen that the teeth are very numerous, and
that, being attached only by ligament to the membrane of
the mouth, they must soon fall off in the decomposition of
the dead fish, become scattered abroad by the movements
of the body through the action of the waters, and sink into
the sediment.
Family I.—Cestraciontid^:.
{Port-Jackson Shark.)
The existing genus which has thrown most light upon
the fossil teeth which have thus become imbedded in the
oceanic deposits of the palaeozoic and mezozoic periods, is
the Cestracion, now restricted to the Australian and Chi¬
nese seas, where it is represented by two or three species,
and suggests the idea of a form verging towards extinction.
It formerly flourished under a great number of varied
generic or family modifications, represented by species,
some of which attained dimensions far exceeding the
largest known living Cestracions. The dentition of these
fishes is adapted to the prehension and mastication of crus-
taceous and testaceous animals; they are of a harmless, timid
character ; and have the before-described denticulate dor¬
sal spines given to them as defensive weapons. Figure
Fig. 26.
Hybodus sub-
carinatus.
(Wealden.)
118
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Vertebrata. 27 gives a side view of the upper and lower jaws of the
“ Port-Jackson shark,”
showing the oblique dis¬
position of the large
crushing teeth, which
cover like a pavement
the working borders of
the mouth. Figure 28,
p. 424, article Odon¬
tology, gives a view of
the crowns of the teeth
of the upper jaw of the
same species. From
their mode of attach- Fig. 27.
ment, these teeth would Cestracion Philippi (recent),
become detached from the jaws of the dead fish, and dis¬
persed in the way above described ; and it is by such de¬
tached fossil teeth that we first get dental evidence of the
Cestraciont family in former periods of the earth’s history.
The teeth of the Hybodonts are conical, but broader and
less sharp than those of true sharks. The enamel is strongly
marked by longitudinal grooves and folds. ®ne cone 15
larger than the rest, and called the “ principal; the others
are secondary. In one genus (Cladodus, Ag.), the second¬
ary cones go on enlarging as they recede from the “ Prin"
cipaland teeth of this genus, referred by Eichwald to
the Hybodus longiconus, have been discovered in the old
red sandstone in the vicinity of Petersburg.
In the Orodus, the cones are more compressed, trenchant,
and distinct from the body of the tooth than in Hybodus ;
but they present a principal
and secondary cones. Fig. 28
is a tooth of the Orodus cinc-
tus (Ag.), from the carbonife¬
rous beds near Bristol. The
O. porosus and O. compres-
sus are from deposits of simi-
character and dark colour, has suggested to the quarrymen Vertebrata.
the name of “ fossil leeches.” The older fossilists re-
garded these teeth as petrified Vermes; but the structure,
as shown by the microscope, is closely similar to that of the
teeth of Cestracion.1 Portions of the jaw of the Acrodus
have been discovered which show that these teeth were
arranged, as in Cestracion, in oblique rows, with at least
seven teeth in each row. Acrodus lateralis is a muschel-
kalk fossil, A. hirudo a Wealden, and A. transversus a
cretaceous fossil. No tooth referable to the genus has been
found in any tertiary stratum.
The genus Ptychodus is founded on teeth usually of
large size, and of a more or less square form (fig. 31).
The crown is deeper than the root, which is obtuse and
truncate. The enamelled summit of the crown is granu¬
late at the margin, and raised in the
middle into an obtuse eminence, dis¬
posed in large transverse, parallel,
sometimes wavy and rather sharp
ridges. With teeth of this form are
sometimes found others of smaller
size, with more convex rounded
crowns, doubtless forming the ex¬
tremes of the multiserial pavement
which, as in modern sharks and rays,
covered the broad jaws of the Ptycho-
donts. Large dorsal spines have been
found so associated with the above-
described teeth as to indicate the
affinity of the Ptychodus to the Ces¬
traciont family of sharks. All the
specimens and species referable to
lar age near Armagh.
Fig. 29.
Cochliodus contortus, Ag.
(Carboniferous.)
Fig. 30.
Acrodus nobilis (tooth).
(Lias.)
Ptychodus latissimus.
(Chalk.)
this genus have been found in the cretaceous strata.
Fig. 28.
Orodus cinctus (tooth).
(Carboniferous.)
If fig. 29 be compared with fig. 28, p. 424, yol. xvi., it
would seem as if the several teeth of each oblique row in
Cestracion had been welded into a
single dental mass in Cochliodus,
the proportions and direction of
the rows being closely analogous.
Whether in Cochliodus there
were any small anterior prehen¬
sile teeth, is hypothetical; the
large crushing dental plates must
have been admirably adapted to
crack and bruise the shells of Mol¬
luscs and Crustaceans. The Cochliodus contortus (Ag.)
(fig. 29) has been found in the carboniferous formations
near Bristol and Armagh, aud the genus is peculiar to that
geological period.
Teeth referable to the genus Hybodus occur in all the
secondary rocks from the trias to
the chalk inclusive.
A form of tooth which more
closely resembles the crush¬
ing-teeth of Cestracion, is that
on which the genus Acrodus is
founded, and which also ranges
from triassic strata to the upper
chalk of Maestricht. The species
here selected (fig. 30) is the Acro¬
dus nobilis, from the lias of Lyme
Regis. The upper figure shows
the grinding surface, which, from
its finely and transversely striated
Family II.—Squalid^:.
{Sharks.)
The well-marked, saw-shaped tooth (fig. 32), so closely
resembles the lower jaw-teeth of the sharks, called “gri-
sets” by the French {Notidanus, Cuv.), as to be referred
to that genus by Agassiz. Such teeth nevertheless occur
in strata of oolitic age {Notidanus Munsteri, Ag., fig. 32).
Other species,—e. g., N.pectinatus—ssxz found in the chalk
of Kent; and N.serratissimus, in the eocene clay at Sheppy.
The tooth (fig. 33) on which Agassiz has founded the
genus Corax indicates, by its close resemblance to those
of Carcharias, its relationship with the true sharks {Squa-
lidce). Most of the species of Corax, including C.falcatus,
are cretaceous; a few are tertiary : all are extinct.
Fig. 32. ' Fig. 33. " *l Fig. 34.
Notidanus Munsteri. Corax falcatus. Galeocerdo aduncus.
(Upper Oolite.) (Chalk.) (Miocene.)
Another form of shark’s tooth, deeply notched at one
margin, and with the rest of the border finely denticulate,
resembles more that of the “ Topes” or gray sharks (Ga-
leus, Cuv.), and is referred by Agassiz to the genus Galeo¬
cerdo. The species are found in both the cretaceous and
tertiary formations; Galeocerdo aduncus (fig. 34) is from the
miocene of Europe and America. In the same tertiary series
are found the teeth of the Hemipristis serra, Ag. (fig. 35).
Odontaspis (Ag.), presents atbrm of tooth most like that
in the blue sharks {Lamnd) of the present seas. Species
of Odontaspis occur in the cretaceous and tertiary beds.
The O. Hopei (fig. 36) is from the London clay of Sheppy.
It indicates a destructive and formidable species of shark.
See Owen’ Odontography vol. L p. 54, pis. 14 and 15,
PALEONTOLOGY. 119
Thus we obtain evidence of fishes of the plagiostomous Vertebrata.
order in the marine deposits of every for¬
mation from the upper Silurian beds to
the present period. But none of the
palaeozoic fossils are referable to any ex¬
isting genus. A few only of the mezozoic
Plagiostomes, and those chiefly from the
chalk are so determinable. Most of the
secondary Plagiostomes belong or are allied
to a family {Cestraciontidce), now nearly
extinct; the evidence of the generic forms
ol Plagiostomes characteristic of the pre¬
sent time become common only in the
tertiary periods. No fossil species is the (Dermal spines.)
same with any existing one.
Order II.—HOLOCEPHALI.
(Chimceroid Fishes.')
Char. — Jaws bony, traversed and encased by dental
plates; endo-skeleton cartilaginous; exo-skeleton as
placoid granules; most of the fins with a strong spine
for the first ray; ventrals abdominal; gills laminated,
attached by their margins ; a single external gill
aperture.
' Fig. 41. '
liaia clavata.
Vertebrata. With these fossil teeth of sharks are found, though
v sparingly, in both the cretaceous and tertiary beds, petrified
bodies of vertebrae, showing by their extreme shortness
in comparison with their breadth, by their bi-concavity,
Fig. 35.
Hemipristis
serra.
(Miocene.)
and the fissures
upper figure of
Fig. 37.
Side View and Back View of the
Body of a Vertebra of a Shark,
Lamna or Odontaspis.
(London clay, Sheppy.)
on the external surface (as shown on the
cut 37), that they belonged to a shark
Fig. 36.
Odontaspis
Hopei.
(Eocene.)
closely allied to the Porbeagle, {Lamna, Cuv.)
Family III.—Raiid.e.
{Rays.)
Fossil evidences of this peculiar family ot cartilaginous
fishes have been discovered in oolitic,
cretaceous, and tertiary formations,
and consist of defensive spines, der¬
mal tubercles, and teeth, but chiefly
the latter. The most peculiar and
distinctive modifications of the dental
system, presented by the eagle-rays
{Myliobatida^dse unequivocally shown
by fossils of the tertiary formations, and
have not been found in earlier strata.
The form, structure, and arrange- Fig. 38.
ment of the dental plates of the exist- My Violates toliapicus.
ing Myliobates are described and (Eocene, Sheppy.)
illustrated in the article Odontology, p.423, figs. 26 and 27.
To this genus, as now restricted, certain fossils from
the London clay of Sheppy {Myliobates toliapicus, Ag., fig.
38) belong.
In Zygobates (fig. 39), the middle series of teeth is less
broad; and a still narrower series is
interposed between it and the small
lateral teeth. Existing rays show¬
ing this modification are found in
Brazilian seas; fossil teeth of this
genus, e.g., Zygobates Woodwardi,
Ag. (fig. 39), occur in the tertiary
crag (probably miocene) of Norfolk,
and in the miocene mollasse of
Switzerland.
When the teeth form broad transverse undivided plates,
as in fig. 40, they characterize
the genus MZtobates. Fossils of
this genus occur in the English
eocenes and the Swiss mollasse.
In the “ crag” of Norfolk and
Suffolk, and in marine pliocene
beds, fossils have been found which
closely resemble the osseous and
spinigerous plates that beset the
skin of the ray, thence called
“ thornback” (fig. 41), and which
indicate the existence of a species
allied to the Raw clavata.
Fig. 39.
Zygobates Woodwardi.
(Miocene.)
Fig. 40.
Mdtobates subarcuatus.
(Eocene, Bracklesham.)
To judge from the paucity of existing representatives ot
this order of cartilaginous fishes, it would seem, like the
Cestracionts, to be verging towards extinction. One genus
(Chimckra, Linn.) is founded on a single known species of
the northern seas called “ king of the herrings” {Chi-
mcera monstrosa)’, another genus {Callorhynchus of Gro-
novius) is represented by two known species in the Austra¬
lian and Chinese seas. The only parts of chimaeroid fishes
likely to be fossilized are the jaws and spines. The bony
and dental substances are so combined in the more or less
beak-shaped jaws, that they characterize the order, and are
never found separate. It is chiefly on such fossil man¬
dibles, and portions of them, that the evidence of the Holo-
cephali in former geological periods rests. These singular
fishes ranged, under different generic and specific modifica¬
tions, from the bottom of the oolitic series to the present
period.
Genus Ischiodon, Egerton.—Of this genus, 1. John-
soni is ifom the lias of Dorsetshire; /. Egertoni from the
Kimmeridge of Shotover; and I. Townshendi, a magni¬
ficent species, from the Portland stone. 1 wo species
(/. Agassizii and I. brevirostris) are from the cretaceous
beds ; at which period the genus appears to have per¬
ished.
Genus Ganodus, Egerton (including Ganodus and Psit-
tacodus of Agassiz).—This genus is exclusively represented
by species from the oolitic slate of Stonesfield, c. <7., G.
Eucklandi, G. Colei, G. Owenii.
Genus Edaphodus, Egerton (including Edaphodon and
Passalodon of Buckland).—The large E. Sedgwickii is
from the greensand near Cambridge; the still larger E.
gigas from the chalk of Kent and Sussex. The ichthyo-
dorulite called Psittacodus Mantelli by Agassiz may be
the dorsal spine of this species. Three species, including
the E. Bucklandi, are found in the eocene of Bagshot and
Bracklesham; and one species {E. helveticus) is from the
mollasse of Switzerland.
The genus Elasmodus, Egerton, is exclusively repre¬
sented by species,—e.g., E. Hunteri, from the London clay
of Sheppy.
Order III.—GANOIDEI.
Char.—Endo-skeleton in some osseous, in some cartilagi¬
nous, in some partly osseous and partly cartilaginous ;
exo-skeleton formed by enamelled bones; fins usually
with the first ray a strong spine.
120
PALAEONTOLOGY.
V ertebrata.
Sub-Order 1.—PLACOGANOIDEI.
(Placodermes,1 Pander.)
Char.—Endo-skeleton cartilaginous, or retaining the noto¬
chord ; head and more or less of the trunk protected by
large ganoid, often reticulated, plates; heterocercal.
The last term signifies a form and structure of tail illus¬
trated by fig. 42, and to be seen in the sharks, dog-fishes,
half of the trunk are defended by ganoid plates,—i. e., plates Vertebrata.
composed of a hard bone coated with enamel ; those of the
trunk forming a buckler composed of a back-plate (fig. 43)
and breast-plate (fig. 44), articulated together at the sides.
The rest of the trunk was defended by small ganoid scales,
flexible, like scale-armour, and bore a small dorsal fin (fig.
43, d), and a terminal heterocercal fin, very rarely displayed
2
Fig. 42.
Heterocercal Tail (Lepidosteus osseus).
and sturgeons of the present day: it results from a pro¬
longation of the vertebral column into the upper lobe dn,
producing an unsymmetrical form of the caudal fin, which
is contrasted with the symmetrical form of the same fin
presented by most fishes of the present day, and illustrated
by the skeleton of the perch, in art. Ichthyology, fig. 10,
p.* 208, vol. xii., in which the vertebral column terminates
at the middle of the base of the caudal fin. There are a few
exceptional intermediate forms and structures of this fin.
The fossil remains of the singular fishes of the extinct
order Placoganoidei were first discovered about 1813, in
formations of the “old red” or Devonian age in Russia,
and are preserved in museums at St Petersburg and Dorpat.
The relation of these specimens to the class of fishes was
first announced by Professor Asmuss,2 and shortly after, the
generic names Asterolepis and Bothriolepis were invented
by Professor Eichwald,3 to express certain modifications of
the external surface of portions of the ganoid plates, sub¬
sequently recognised as constituting the buckler of the
fore-part of the extinct fishes. In September 1840 Mr
Hugh Miller submitted to the geological section of the
British Association, at Glasgow, the first discovered speci¬
mens affording a recognisable idea of the form of one of
these “old red” fishes, and for this form Professor Agassiz
assigned the generic name Plerichthys (pteron, a wing,
ichthys, a fish). Although, therefore, the term Asterolepis
had been attached to a fragment of the cuirass of this fish a
few months previously, yet, as no recognisable generic cha¬
racters were associated with such name, and as Asterolepis
has been applied also to another genus,—the Heterostius of
Asmuss,—the example of British palaeontologists will be
here followed, in retaining the name Pterichthys for the
genus. “ Of all the organisms of the system,” wrote the
lamented Hugh Miller in his work on the Old Red Sand¬
stone, “ one of the most extraordinary, and the one in
which Lamarck would have most delighted, is the Pter-
ichthys, or winged fish, an ichthyolite which the writer
had the pleasure of introducing to the acquaintance of
geologists nearly three years ago (1840), but which he first
laid open to the light about seven years earlier” (1833).
Genus Pterichthys (fig. 43).—The head and the anterior
Fig. 43.
Pterichthys Milleri, dorsal surface (Devonian), after Pander.
in fossil specimens. The pectoral spines, c, are formed of
ganoid material, like the buckler. The armour of the head,
or helmet, appears to have been articulated by a moveable
joint to the trunk-buckler. One of the few existing
ganoid fishes {Lepidosteus) is remarkable for the degree
in which the head moves upon the trunk. The compo¬
nent dermal plates of the helmet correspond in some
measure with the position of the cranial bones in osseous
fishes, but not sufficiently to sanction the application to them
of corresponding names. They are indicated by figures
in the cut 43: 2 is the front terminal or rostral plate;
it is followed in the median line by four other plates
in the following order :—4, premedian; 6, median; 8,
postmediaw, 10, nuchal; 3 *s the marginal, and 7 the
1 This term is used by other German writers as the equivalent of the Placoidei of Agassiz, which answers to the Plagiostomi of
Cuvier. 2 Bulletin Scient.par VAcad. Imp. des Sciences de St Petersburg, 1840, t. vi„ p. 220.^
3 Ibid., t. vii., p. 78, communicated March 13th, 1840. Dr Fleming had recognized certain fossil scales as those of fishes in the ‘ Old
lied” of Fifeshire, in 1827.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
121
IjHsisSHSSBiS
Vertebrata. vostmarginnl; 5 is the prelateral, and 9 the postlateral.
✓ The dorsal shield
of the trunk-cui¬
rass is composed
of two mid-plates
and two on each
side. 12 is the
“ dorsomedian,” 14
the post-dorsome-
dian; it is the
dorsolateral,13 the
post - dorsolateral.
The ventral shield
(fig. 44) consists of
one mid-plate and
three or four side-
plates : 15 is the
pre - ventrolateral,
19 the ventrolate¬
ral, 21 the post-
ventrolateral; the
small supplement¬
ary plate marked
17 is sometimes
confluent with 19;
16 is the ventro-
rnedian plate ; its
margins are bevel¬
led off and over¬
lapped by the late¬
ral plates.
In the first-
formed imperfect l
specimens of Pter-
ichthys, the ventral
shield was deemed
the dorsal one. Sir
P. Egerton has the
4-1.
Pterichthys ; Plastron or Ventral Shield.
(Devonian), after Pander.
merit of having first discerned its true position.
The pectoral spines are long and slender, and consist of
two principal segments, both defended by finely tube'cu-Vertebrata.
lated ganoid plates, like those of the head and trunk. From '
their form, they would seem to have served to aid the fish
in shuffling along the sandy bottom or bed, if left dry at
low-water. The fins attached to the flexible part of the
body indicate a certain power of swimming, though not
with any great rapidity. The jaws are small, and possess
confluent denticles.
The type-species is the Pterichthys Milleri; others
have been based upon proportions of the cuirass, of the pec¬
torals, and the tail; all are from the “ old red,” and the
great majority have been found in the Devonian strata of
Ross-shire, Caithness, and other Scotch localities.
Genus Cephalaspis {kephale, head, as pis, buckler).—In
this genus the posterior angles of the shield-shaped helmet
are produced backwards in a pointed form, giving to the
head the form of a “ saddler’s knife in other respects the
genus closely resembles Pterichthys.
Mr D. Page has recently acquired specimens of Cepha¬
laspis from Lanarkshire tile-stones, forming the base of the
Devonian svstem, which show a dorsal fin, pectoral fins, and
a large heterocercal fin, besides a well-marked capsule of
the eye-ball.
Genus Coccosteus (hokkos, berry, osteon, bone).—If a he¬
terocercal fin were added in outline to the restoration of the
fish of this genus, given in fig 45, a correct idea would be
given of the “old red” fish, which, in the progress of its
reconstruction, has suggested so many strange notions of its
nature and affinities.
The helmet and cuirass are firmly united, and there is
no trace of the jointed appendages, like pectoral fins, which
characterize Pterchthys. The unprotected part of the
trunk shows an ossification of the neural and haemal spines,
and of their appendages, the rays of a “ dorsal ” and “ anal”
fin; and by the analogy of Cephalaspis, the tail was most
probably terminated by an unequal-lobed fin. 1 he lower
jaw is composed of two rami, loosely connected at the sym¬
physis ; so that, when displaced, as in fig. 46, 24, and as
commonly in crushed fossil specimens, they gave the notion
of the fish being provided with laterally-working jaws, like
Fig. 45.
Coccosteus decipiens (Old Red Sandstone), after Pander.
those of the lobster. But, in reality, the jaw worked ver¬
tically upon a fixed upper jaw; both jaws being provided
with from ten to twelve teeth on each side, anchylosed to
the bone ; each ramus of the jaw consisting of a premandi-
bular (figs. 45 and 46, 24) and a postmandibular (fig. 45,
18) element.
An under-view of the cephalothoracic buckler of Coccos¬
teus, according to Dr Pander’s restoration, is given in fig.
46, showing the sutures of most of the cephalic plates, and
the external surface of the plates of the plastron. 9, Ros¬
tral plate; 7, premedian; median ; 8, prelateral ; 6,
lateral; 16, postmandibular ; 24, premandibular ; 15, pre-
ventromedian ; behind the lozenge-shaped ventromedian,
and on each side, are (22) the pre-ventrolateral and
VOL. XVII.
(22) the post-ventrolateral. The same figures mark the
above plates in the side view (fig. 45), with the addition of
(12) the dorsomedian and (14) the post-dorsomedian.
The blank space between the neural (w) and hmmal (A) spines
of the fossil endo-skeleton indicates the position of the soft
“ notochord” (c), which has been dissolved away. The cylin¬
drical gelatinous body, so called,—in Latin chorda dorsalis,
—pre-exists to the formation of the bony bodies of the ver¬
tebrae in all vertebrate animals; and the development of
those bodies seems never to have gone beyond this em¬
bryonal phase in any palaeozoic fish ; such fishes are ac¬
cordingly termed “ notochordal,” retaining the notochord.
There are but two genera of existing fishes which mani¬
fest, when full grown, such a structure, associated with
Q
Vertebrata. ossified peripheral elements of the vertebrae, viz., the Pro-
topterus of certain rivers of Africa,1 and the Lepidosiren of
certain rivers of South America. Those fishes alone would,
Fig. 46.
Cephalothoracic Buckler, ventral aspect, Coccosteus decipiens
(Devonian).
if fossilized, present the appearance of the vertebral column
shown in fig. 45, and which characterizes all the oolitic
fossil ganoid fishes (see figs. 54 and 55). It is a strong
illustration of a principle of “ progression,’ this persistence
in palaeozic and most mezozoic fishes of an embryonic ver¬
tebral character, transitory in nearly all existing fishes.
The external “ ganoid ” surface of the buckler plates of
Coccosteus is ornamented with small hemispherical tubercles ;
whence the generic name, signifying “ berry-bone. The
similarity of this ornamentation to that of the plates of the
buckler in some Tortoises, led to the belief, when the coccos-
teal plates were first found, of their being evidence of the
chelonian genus Trionyx in Devonian beds. Passing notions
also got into print of the crustaceous affinities of Coccosteus;
whence the trivial name of the type-species decipiens, or
the “ deceiving ” Coccosteus.
Strange as seem the forms and structure of the placo-
ganoid fishes of the “old red” period, there are not want¬
ing existing species which throw much truer light on their
nature than any existing Chelonia or Crustacea. The sin¬
gular little family of “ trunk-fishes” ( Ostracionidm) shows Vertebrata.
species in which the body is inclosed in a more or less
quadrangular cuirass, composed of suturally-articulated ga¬
noid plates, which are usually tuberculated on the external
surface, and with the angles prolonged into spines in some
species, like those of the helmet of Cephalaspis. The cau¬
dal part of the trunk protrudes from the back opening of
the cuirass, as in Coccosteus and Pterichthys, and ossifica¬
tion of the endo-skeleton is incomplete. The species of this
family are for the most part natives of seas of tropical or
warm temperate latitudes.
In another family of existing fishes, called “ Siluroids,”
there are species in which the broad cranial bones, connate
with dermal ossifications, form a helmet to the head, whilst
one or two dermal spine-bearing bones combine to form
the part called “ buckler” by Cuvier.2 In the genus Doras,
the lateral line is armed with bony ganoid plates; and in
Callichthys, these biserial plates are developed so as to in¬
case the whole body. But generally, as in Pimelodus, the
hinder muscular part of the trunk is undefended, as in
Coccosteus. The ganoid plates of the head and back
shields are fretted with rows or ridges of confluent tubercles,
radiating from the centre to the circumference of the plate,
whilst the inner surface is smooth, as in Coccosteus (fig. 46);
and, moreover, the dorsal plate in existing Siluroids sends
down a median ridge from its inner surface, like that from
the “ dorso-median” plate in Coccosteus. The point ot
resemblance to be mainly noticed, however, is the contrast
furnished by the powerful armature of the head and back
with the unprotected nakedness of the posterior portions ot
the creature—a point specially noticeable in Toccosteus,
and apparent also, though in a lesser degree, in some of the
other genera of the old red, such as the Pterichthyes and
Asterolepides. “ From the snout of the Coccosteus down to
the posterior termination of the dorsal plate the creature
was cased in strong armour, the plates of which remain as
freshly preserved in the ancient rocks of the country as
those of the Pimelodi of the Ganges on the shelves of the
Elgin museum; but from the pointed termination ot the
plate immediately over the dorsal fin to the tail, comprising
more than one-half the entire length of the animal, all
seems to have been exposed, without the protection of even
a scale; and there survives in the better specimens only
the internal skeleton of the fish and the ray-bones of the
fins. It was armed, like a French dragoon, with a strong
helmet and a short cuirass; and so we find its remains in
the state in which those of some of the soldiers ot Napo¬
leon’s old guard, that had been committed unstripped to
the earth, may be dug up in the future on the fatal field ot
Borodino, or along the banks of the Dwina or the Wap.
The cuirass lies still attached to the helmet, but we only
find the naked skeleton attached to the cuirass. The
Pterichthys to its strong helmet and cuirass added a poste¬
rior armature of comparatively feeble scales, as if, while its
upper parts were shielded with plate-armour, a lighter
covering of ring or scale armour sufficed for the less vital
parts beneath. In the Asterolepis the arrangement was
somewhat similar, save that the plated cuirass was wanting.
It was a strongly-helmed warrior in slight scale-armour;
for the disproportion between the strength of the plated
head-piece and that of the scaly coat was still greater than
in the Pterichthys. The occipital star-covered plates are,
in some of the larger specimens, fully three-quarters of an
inch in thickness, whereas the thickness of the delicately-
fretted scales rarely exceeds a line.
“ Why this disproportion between the strength of the ar¬
mature in different parts of the same fish should have ob¬
tained, as in Pterichthys and Asterolepis, or why, while one
portion of the animal was strongly armed, another portion
1 See Lmnoean Transactions, vol. xviii. ; and Proceedings of the Linncean Society, April 2, 1839. Histoire des Poi sons, tom. xii.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
123
Vertebrata. should have been left, as in Coccosteus, wholly exposed,
cannot of course be determined by the mere geologist.
His rocks present him with but the fact of the dispropor¬
tion, without accounting for it. But the natural history of
existing fish, in which, as in the Pimelodi, there may be
detected a similar peculiarity of armature, may perhaps
throw some light on the mystery. In Hamilton’s Fishes
of the Ganges, the habitats of the various Indian species of
Pimelodi, whether brackish estuaries, ponds, or rivers, are
described, but not their characteristic instincts. Of the
Silurus, however, a genus of the same great family, I read
elsewhere that some of the species, such as the Silurus
Glanis, being unwieldy in their motions, do not pursue
their prey, which consists of small fishes, but lie concealed
among the mud, and seize on the chance stragglers that
come in their way. And of the Pimelodus gulio, a little
strongly-helmed fish with a naked body, I was informed
by Mr Duff, on the authority of the gentleman who had
presented the specimens to the Museum, that it burrowed
in the holes of muddy banks, from which it shot out its
armed head, and arrested, as they passed, the minute
animals on which it preyed. The animal world is full of
such compensatory defences; there is a half-suit of
armour given to shield half the body, and a wise in¬
stinct to protect the rest. Now it seems not improbable
that the half-armed Coccosteus, a heavy fish, indifferently
furnished with fins, may have burrowed, like the recent
Silurus Glanis or Pimelodus gulio, in a thick mud, of the
existence of which in vast quantity, during the times of
the old red sandstone, the dark Caithness flagstones, the
foetid breccia of Strathpeffer, and the gray stratified clays of
Cromarty, Moray, and Banff' unequivocally testify; and
that it may have thus not only succeeded in capturing
many of its light-winged contemporaries, which it would
have vainly pursued in open sea, but may have been
enabled also to present to its enemies, when assailed in its
turn, only its armed portions, and to protect its unarmed
parts in its burrow.”3
Sub-Order 2.—LEPIDOGANOIDEI.
Family I.—Diptekid^:.
This family includes a few heterocercal fishes with a
double anal as well as dorsal fin. The head is large and
flattened; the teeth subequal; the scales perforated by
small foramina; the notochord persistent.
In the genus Dipterus (fig. 47), the two dorsals, d\,d2,
are opposite the two anals, a\, a2x the ventrals, v, are in
Fig. 47.
THpterus macrolepidotus (Devonian).
advance of the first anal and first dorsal. The Dipterus
macrolepidotus is characterized by the large size of its
scales. Its remains are found in the old red sandstone
of many localities of Scotland and England.
In the allied genus Diplopterus the vertical fins are
opposite, but the dorsals are wider apart, and the teeth are
larger and fewer. Four species have been recognised in
the “ old red” of Gamrie, Orkney, and Lethenbar, Ross-
shire. Two species occur in the carboniferous series.
In the genus Osteolepis the vertical fins are alternate in
position, the first dorsal being near the middle of the back.
All the species of this genus are from the “ old red.”.
Family II.—Acanthodii.
Vertebrata.
The species of this family are characterized by their very
small scales : they are heterocercal and notochordal. There
is a strong spine in front of each fin. The head is large ;
the orbits approximate ; the mouth wide, and opening ob¬
liquely upwards, so that they have somewhat the aspect of
the Vranoscopi. The principal genera are from the old
red sandstone, and are as follows —Cheiracanthus, with
a single dorsal situated in front of the anal; Cheirolepis,
in which the dorsal is situated behind the anal; and Dip-
lacanthus (fig. 48), in which there are two dorsals.
The Diplacanthus striatus is found in the “ old red” of
Cromarty. In fig. 48, as in the other figures, p is the pec¬
toral fin, d the dorsal, v the ventral, a the anal, and c the
Fig. 48.
Diplacanthus striatus.
caudal. In this species the upper lobe of the caudal is
much prolonged. The fin-spines in the Acanthodii were,
like those of the recent dog-fish (Spinax), simply imbedded
in the flesh, with their base, as it were, unfinished, not
provided, as in the Siluroids and other modern bony fishes,
with a joint-structure. Some species of Acanthodii existed
in the seas of the carboniferous period.
Family III.—Ccelachanthi.
The species of this family are characterized by the hol¬
lowness of the rays or spines ; whence the name. The
caudal fin has a peculiar structure, the vertebral column
being continued into and beyond its middle part, support¬
ing a kind of slender appendage between the two normal
lobes. The species of the genus are most abundant in the
Devonian and carboniferous formations; but some occur in
oolitic and even cretaceous beds; but all became extinct
before the tertiary epoch.
Glyptolepis had a heterocercal tail, with rounded scales,
smooth externally, and with radiating compartments inter¬
nally. The G. microlepidotus, of which a magnified view
of some scales is given in fig. 49, occurs in the old red
sandstone of Scotland and England.
Family IV.—Holoptychiid^:.
The type-genera of this family were first recognised and
characterized by the fossil scales,
under the name Holoptychius (Ag.),
and by the fossil teeth, under the
nameRhizodus (Ow.) They include
species which have left their remains
in the “ old red ” and the coal mea¬
sures. They are nearly allied to the
Ccelacanthians, having, like them, but
partially ossified bones and spines,
the interior of which retained their
primitive gristly state, and appear
hollow in the fossils. The head was
defended by large externally sculp¬
tured and tuberculate ganoid plates.
Theteeth consist of twokinds,—small
Fig. 49.
Qlyptolepis microlepi¬
dotus (Devonian).
Hugh Miller, Rambles of a Geologist, p.\288.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
124
Vertebrati serial teeth, and large laniary teeth,—at long intervals;
^ both kinds showing the “ labyrinthic ” structure at their
base, which is anchylosed to the jaw-bone. Large tossil
teeth, with the more complex “ dendritic ” disposition or the
tissues, characterize a genus (Dendrodus), most probab y o
the Holoptychian family. , c ,
The generic term Rhizodus is now retained tor the
Holoptychians of the coal measures
which have more robust and obtuse serial
teeth, and longer, sharper, and more slender
laniaries, exemplified by the R. Hibberti?
Species of true Holoptychius,—e. g., H.
giganteus (Ag.), H. nobilissimus (Ag.),
occur in the old red sandstone. A most „ Tr , ,
noble specimen of the latter species, 2 feet Sea _e o
6 inches in length, discovered in the om i etl (Devonian),
^ nat. size.
Fig. 50.
sandstone at Clashbinnie, near Perth, is
now in the palaeontological series ot the . ,
British Museum. It is chiefly remarkable for the size and
bold sculpturing of the ganoid scales (fig. 50).
“ The amount of design exhibited in the scales ot some
of the more ancient Ganoids,—design obvious enough to be
clearly read,—is very extraordinary. A single scale ot
Holoptychius nobilissimus, fast locked up m its red san
stone rocks, laid by, as it were, for ever, will be seen, if we
but set ourselves to unravel its texture, to form such an
instance of nice adaptation of means to an end as might o
itself be sufficient to confound the atheist. Let me attempt
placing one of these scales before the reader in its character
as a flat counter of bone, of a nearly circular form, an inch
and a half in diameter, and an eighth part of an inch in
thickness; and then ask him to bethink himself of the vari¬
ous means by which he would impart to it the greatest pos¬
sible degree of strength. The human skull consists ot two
tables of solid bone, an inner and an outer, with a spongy
cellular substance interposed between them, termed the
diploe ; and such is the effect of this arrangement that the
blow which would fracture a continuous wall ot bone lias
its force broken by the spongy intermediate layer and
merely injures the outer table, leaving not unfrequently the
inner one, which more especially protects the brain, wholly
unharmed. Now, such also was the arrangement in the
scale of the Holoptychius nobilissimus. It consisted of its
two well-marked tables of solid bone, corresponding in then-
dermal character, the outer to the cuticle, the inner to the
true skin, and the intermediate cellular layer to the rete
mucosum ; but bearing an unmistakeable analogy also, as a
mechanical contrivance, to the two plates and the diploe oi
the human skull. To the strengthening principle of the
two tables, however, there were two other principles added
Cromwell, when commissioning for a new h‘s. °
one being, as he expresses it, “ ill set ordered his friend
to send him a “fluted pot?-i.e., a helmet ridged and fur¬
rowed on the surface, and suited to break, by its protuber¬
ant lines, the force of a blow, so that the vibrations of the
troke would reach the body of the metal deadened and
flat. Now, the outer table of the scale of the Holoptychius
was a “ fluted pot.” The alternate ridges and furrows which
ornamented its surface served a purpose exactly similar with
that of the flutes and fillets of Cromwell’s helmet. I he
inner table was strengthened on a different but not ess
effective principle. Now, the inner table of t le sea e o
the Holoptychius was composed on this principle, of vai ious
layers or coats, arranged the one over the other, so t lat
the fibres of each lay at right angles with the fibres of the
others in immediate contact with it. In the inner table o
one scale I reckon nine of these alternating, variously-dis¬
posed layers ; so that any application of violence, which, in
the lath-splitter,would run lengthwise along the grain of four Vertebrata.
of them, would be checked by the cross grain in five. In
other words, the line of the tear in five of the layers was
ranged at right angles with the line of the tear in four.
There were thus in a single scale, in order to secure the
greatest possible amount of strength, and who can say
what other purposes may have been secured besides .
three distinct principles embodied, the principle of the two
tables and diploe of the human skull, the principle of those
of the variously-arranged coats of the human stomach, and
the principle of Oliver Cromwell’s “ fluted pot.” There
have been elaborate treatises written on those ornate floor¬
ing-tiles of the classical and middle ages, that are occasion¬
ally du" up by the antiquary amid monastic ruins, or on
the site's of old Roman stations ; but did any of them ever
tell a story half so instructive or so strange as that told by
the incalculably more ancient ganoid tiles of the palaeozoic
and secondary period ? ”4 „ „ , ,
Such are some of the forms and structures ot fishes that
swam in the seas from which were deposited the sediment
that has hardened into the “ old red sandstones of Great
Britain, Russia, and other parts of the world. And in this
process of consolidation the carcases of the fishes entombed
in the primaeval mud have had their share. For, just as a
plaster-cast boiled in oil derives greater density and dura¬
bility from that addition, so the oily and other azotized and
ammoniacal principles of the decomposing fish operated
upon the immediately surrounding sand so as to make it
harder and more compact than the sediment not reached by
the animal principles. Accordingly it has happened that in
the course of the upheaval and disturbance of old red
strata, parts of it, broken up and exposed to the action ot
torrents, have been reduced to detritus, and washed away,
with the exception of certain nodules, generally of a flat¬
tened elliptic form, which are harder than the surrounding
sandstone. Such nodules form the bed of many a moun¬
tain stream in “ old red sandstone’ districts of Scotland^ it
one of these nodules be cleft by a smart and well-applied
stroke of the hammer, the cause of its superior density wil
be seen in a more or less perfect specimen of the fossilized
remains of some animal, most commonly a fish.
But the placoganoid and ganoid, heterocercal and noto¬
chordal, fishes of the Devonian epoch existed in such vast
shoals in certain favourable inlets, that the whole mass of the
sedimentary deposits has been affected by the decomposing
remains of successive generations of those fishes. The De¬
vonian flagstones of Caithness are an instance. They owe
their peculiar and valuable qualities of density, tenacity,
and durability wholly to the dead fishes that rotted in theii
primitive constituent mud. In no other part of the world,
perhaps, can the builder set a large flagstone on its edge
with assurance of its holding long together in that position.
A great proportion of the county of Caithness formed,
before its upheaval, the bottom of what may truly be termed
piscina mirabilis.” Yet there are minds, one at least,
who, cognisant of the wonderful structures of the extinct
Devonian fishes—of the evidence of design and adaptation
in their structures—of the altered nature of the sediment
surrounding them, and its dependence on the admixture
of the decomposing and dissolved soft parts of the old fish
—would deliberately reject the conclusions which healthy
human reason must, as its Creator has constituted it, draw
from such evidences of His operations. There are now in¬
dividuals, one at least, who prefer to try to make it be be¬
lieved that God had recently, and at once, called into being
all these phenomena ; that the fossil bones, scales, and teeth,
had never served their purpose,—had never been recent,—■
were never truly developed, but created fossil; that the
1 See art. Odontology, vol. xvi., p. 412, fig. 12.
4 llu"h Miller, Rambles of a Geologist, p. 284.
2 Ibid., p. 413, fig. 14.
3 Owen’s Odontography, vol. ii., p. 75, pis. 35 and 36.
6 See Omphalos, by P. H. Gosse, 8vo, 1858.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
125
Vertebrata.creatures they simulate never actually existed; that the
superior hardness of the inclosing matrix was equally due
to primary creation, not to any secondary cause; that the
geological evidences of superposition, successive stratifica¬
tion, and upheaval were, equally with the palaeontological
evidences, an elaborate design to deceive and not instruct!
Surely, on such hypothesis, the workmanship must be that
of the father of lies, not of the Author of I ruth, and the
imaginer of such hypothesis must be a Manichean at heart.
The sub-order of Placoganoids, so richly represented in
the Devonian epoch, disappears in the carboniferous one;
the Ganoids, with rhomboid scales, increase in number.
These are characteristically represented by the genus
Palceoniscus, species of which range throughout the cai-
boniferous and Permian beds. Palceoniscus (fig. 51) is cha¬
racterized by the heterocercal tail and moderate-sized fins,
the dorsal, D, being single, and opposite the interval between
the anal, ^4, and ventral, F, fins: each fin has an anterior spine.
/j
Fig. 51.
Palceoniscus (Permian).
The fore-part of the head is obtuse; the jaws armed with
numerous small close-set teeth, or en brosse. The ganoid
scales are rhomboidal: in the Palceonisci, from the coal
formations at Burdie House, near Edinburgh, their outer
surface is striate and punctate; e.g., in P. ornatissimus, P.
striatus; but in the Palceonisci of other British localities,
and of the continental and American coal formations, the
scales are smooth ; e.g., in P. fultus, from North America,
P. Duvernoyi and P. minutus, from the coal beds of Mun¬
ster-Appel. In the Palceonisci from the Permian copper
schales and zechstein, the scales are striate or punctate.
The Palceoniscus Freieslebeni is the most common, and was
the first recognised species of the genus.
Amblypterus, with a geological range like that of Palceo¬
niscus, differs in its shorter and deeper tail, and larger
body-fins, which are devoid of anterior spines. In fig. 52
a indicates the outer surface
of parts of two series of the
rhomboidal ganoid scales;
and b the inner surface of
two scales, showing the ridge
produced at one end into a
projecting peg, which fits
into a notch of the next
scale, in the way that tiles
are pegged together in the
roof of a house. The species
affording the above is the
Amblypterus striatus from the coal-formations at New-
haven.
Several species of Amblypterus have left their remains
in the muschelkalk, at which triassic period the genus
seems to have passed away.
Magnificent species of heterocercal rhomb-scaled Ganoids,
with large dispersed laniary teeth like those of Holopty-
chius, sometimes of a size rivalling those of great Saurians,
for which they have been mistaken, have left their remains
in the coal strata at Carluke, near Glasgow, and other locali¬
ties, and constitute the genus Megalichthys of Agassiz. The
Fig. 52.
Scales of Amblypterus striatus
(Carboniferous).
head is defended by strong ganoid plates, of a beautiful Vertebrata.
polish ; the trunk-scales are usually granulate exteriorly.
The sub-order Pycnodontes is represented in the carbon¬
iferous strata by the heterocercal genus Platysomus (fig.
53), and by the species P. parvulus, which has been found
in that formation at Leeds; but most of the pycnodont
fishes belong to the mezozoic period.
Pygopterus, Acrolepis, Eurynotus, Elomichtbys, Plectro-
lepis, Graptolepis, Orognathus, Pododus, Acanthodes, and
Diplopterus are carboniferous genera of Ganoids, with
rhomboid scales. Ccdacanthus, Isodus, Phyllolepis, Hop-
lopygus, *Uronemus, Colonodus, Centrodus, Asterolepis,
Psammosteus, and Osteoplax, are genera of Ganoids with
rounded scales, represented by species in carboniferous
strata.
Of the above-named genera, Acrolepis, Pygopterus,
Palceoniscus, Platysomus, and Ccdacanthus, continue to
be represented in Permian beds; in which also are found
species of the ganoid genera Dorypterus, Holacanthodus,
and Globulodus, if the teeth on which the latter is based be
not those of Platysomus.
The formations of the mezozoic or secondary periods
give evidence of the full development of the ganoid order.
In the lowest or “ triassic ” division this order is still repre¬
sented by heterocercal and notochordal species belonging
to some of the genera of the Permian period, as, e.g., Ccel-
acanthus, Amblypterus, and Palceoniscus. The genus
Plucodus, a supposed pycnodont fish of the muschelkalk, has
been shown to be a conchivorous Saurian.1 In the oolitic
division the heterocercal Ganoids are almost completely
superseded by homocercal genera, which now, for the first
time, appear on the stage of life; but the ossification of
the endo-skeleton is still incomplete. In the cretaceous
series the Teleostian, or well-ossified bony fishes, are nu¬
merous ; and here also first are seen fishes with the
flexible “ cycloid ” or “ ctenoid ” scales, and of genera
which continue to be represented by living species.
Of 33 genera of fishes' in the lias, 4 only were repre¬
sented in older strata, while the rest extend into the upper
oolitic beds. Of these, 19 genera are Ganoids with rhom¬
boid scales, and two [Leptolepis and Gyrosteus) have
rounded scales. The sub-order Sturionii, represented by
the sturgeons of the present seas, makes its first appearance
in the lias, under the generic form of Chondrosteus, which
has recently received a full description and illustration in a
memoir communicated by Sir P. Egerton to the Royal
Society of London.2 In this it is shown “that Chondrosteus,
though essentially sturionian, yet evidences a transitional
form between the sturgeons and more typical Ganoids;
that its food was similar to that of the existing members of
the family, but that it was procured in a tranquil sea, rather
than in the tumultuous waters frequented by sturgeons at
the present time.”
1 Owen, in Phil. Trans. 1858, p. 169.
2 Proceedings of the Royal Society, April 20, 1858.
126
Vertebrata.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Sub-Order 3.—PYCNODONTES.
The name of this group of ganoid fishes refers to the
form of the greater proportion of the teeth, especially^those
attached to the palate and hind alveolar part of the lower
jaw : the few anterior teeth are small and sub-prehensile ;
but the whole dentition bespeaks fishes adapted to feed on
small testaceous and crustaceous animals.
The Pycnodonts were for the most part deep-bodied
fishes, symmetrically compressed from side to side. rI hey
were notochordal; a few of the earlier forms (Plati/somus,
e.g., fig. 53) were heterocercal, but the majority of the sub¬
orders were homocercal.
In the lias, most beautiful fossil fishes of this group
are found, which were referred by Bronn to the genus
Tetragonolepis, and by Agassiz to the lepidoid sub-order.
Sir P. Egerton has, however, shown that the dentition is
truly “ pycnodont,” having a very close resemblance to that
ot Microdon, but with the masticatory apparatus smaller in
proportion to the size of the fish. 1 he scales, moreover,
instead of being articulated by interlocking pegs and sockets,
as in fig. 52, are joined in a peculiar way, which Sir P.
Egerton describes as follows:—“ Each scale bears upon its
inner anterior margin a thick solid bony rib, extending
upwards beyond the margin of the scale, and sliced off
obliquely above and below, on opposite sides, for forming
splices with the corresponding processes of the adjoining
scales. These splices are so closely adjusted, that without
a magnifying power, or an accidental dislocation, they are
not perceptible. When in situ, and seen internally, these
continuous lines decussate with the true vertebral apo¬
physes, and cause the regular lozenge-shaped pattern so
characteristic of the pycnodont family.”1
The Pycnodonts so characterized are further distinguished
from the closely-resembling lepidoid genus Dapedius, by
having the small anterior teeth conical and single-pointed,
instead of being bifurcate ; and although this character is
subject to occasional variations, nevertheless, on taking a
comprehensive view of all the dapedioid species, it seems
to have been sufficiently constant to warrant the continu¬
ance of the separation of the group into the unicuspid and
bicuspid species. And Sir P. Egerton has accordingly pro¬
posed to apply the generic terms JEchmodus (from alxgv, a
point, and oSovs, a tooth),2 for the unicuspid and pycno-
codont species, formerly termed Tetrugonolepis, and to
continue the name Dapedius for the bicuspid and unequi¬
vocally lepidoid homocercal deep-bodied Ganoids, many
beautiful species of which are found in the lias.
order is characterized by the large size of the round flat Vertebrata.
crowned teeth, which cover the broad jaws as by a pave- ^
ment of from three to five rows ;3 at the fore-part of the
jaws are two or more trenchant incisive teeth both above
and below.
The oblique inner processes of the scales, and which in
some species appear as distinct dermal ossicles decussating
the neural spines, are limited in Pycnodus to the space
between the occiput and the dorsal fin (fig. 54).
This species of Pycnodus abound in the oolitic forma¬
tions above the lias: the one figured (P. rhombus) is
from a calcareous deposit, so charged with animal remains
as to be foetid, at Torre d’Orlando, near Naples. Species
of Pycnodus (P. cretaceous, e.g.) occur in the chalk of
Kent; and one species (P. toliapicus) has left its remains
in the eocene clay of Sheppy. Some teeth from German
miocene have been referred to this genus; but at this
period, if not at the earlier tertiary one, Pycnodus became
extinct.
Sub-Order 4.—LEPIDOSTEID^fE, Muller.
Char.—Ganoids with rhomboid scales and conical teeth ; a
single dorsal.
Family I.—Sauroidei, Agassiz.
Char.—Some of the teeth much larger than the rest, and
laniariform.
Genus Caturus.—In this genus the jaws are armed with
close-set, large, conical teeth; the scales are delicate ; all
the species are homocercal and notochordal (fig. 55). The
Fig. 54.
Pycnodus rhombus (Upper Oolites).
Genus Pycnodus (fig. 54).—The type-genus of this sub-
Caturus furcatus (Oolite, Solenhofen).
dorsal, d, is opposite the ventral, v, all the fins are of
moderate size. One species of Calurus (C. Bucklandi) is
from the lias; but the majority, like C. furcatus, are from the
lithographic slates of Solenhofen. The most recent known
species ((7. similis) is from the chalk of Kent.
P achy cor mus, Saurostonius, Sauropsis, Thryssonotus, and
Eugnathus, are among the well-marked genera of the
Sauroid family. It is represented at the present day by
the North American genus Lepidosteus; but in this fish
not only is the notochord converted into bony vertebral
bodies, but these are united by ball-and-socket joints.
Sub-Order 5.—CYCLOGANOIDEI.
Family I.—Leptolefid^:.
The Ganoids of this family are homocercal, and have
rounded scales. In the type-genus (Leptolepis, fig. 56), the
scales are extremely thin, yet a fine layer of ganoin may
be discovered in them. The teeth are minute and en
brosse, with two of larger size in front of the mouth. It
has not been determined whether the notochord is ossified;
but traces of distinct vertebral bodies appear to the writer
to be discernible in some specimens. Species of Leptolepis
range from the lias to the calcareous slates of Eichstadt.
1 Proceedings of the Geological Society, May 1853, p. 276. for their microscopic
3 For the disposition of these teeth on the palate, see Owen’s Odontography, vol. i., pi. 34, figs. 1 and 2, and lor their microscop
structure, ibid., p. 71, pi. 33.
2 Ibid., p. 273.
1 See art. Ichthyology, pp. 299-232.
Vertebrata. They are very common in the lithographic slates of Solen- chiefly met with in the tertiary ichthyolite beds of Monte Vertebrata-
hofen and Pappenheim. Bolca; but some (e.g., the Smerdis minutus, fig. 60) are
Fig. 57.
Macropoma
Mantelli.
(Chalk.)
Fig. 56.
Leptolepis sprattiformis (Oolite, Solenhofen).
Genus Macropoma.—Fine specimens of homocercal
ganoid fishes, with rounded scales, sculptured externally,
as in fig. 57, have been discovered in the
chalk formations of Kent and Sussex. They
have been referred by Agassiz to the genus
called Macropoma, significative of the large
size of the gill-cover, and to the ccelacanthal
family ; but traces of vertebral bodies are ap¬
parent in some specimens. Casts of the “ in¬
terior” of the alimentary canal, showing impres¬
sions of a broad spiral valve, are preserved in
certain specimens in the British Museum. One
species (M. Egertoni) is from the Speeton clay ; the other
(Tf. Mantelli) from the chalk.
In the tertiary division the ganoid order rapidly dimin¬
ishes, and its place is taken by fishes with better ossified in¬
ternal skeletons, and with thinner, more flexible, and usually
soluble scales. The gills are supported on bony arches,
and are protected by branchiostegal rays, and by an oper¬
culum or gill-cover. The aortic bulb is provided with but
two valves ; and the optic nerves decussate. For this group,
including the majority of existing fishes, and of those which
made their appearance during the tertiary period, Muller
proposed the name “ Teleostei,” which almost corresponds
with the “ osseous fishes” of Cuvier. After the full and
accurate illustration of this great group in the article Ich-
thyolo&y, little is required to be added by way of illustra-
tration from extinct species.
Fig. 59.
Semiophotus velicans (Monte Bolca).
from eocene deposits in France. In all the species the
first suborbital or lacrymal bone is stongly dentate, as is
Order IV.—ACANTHOPTERI.
Sub-Order 1.—CTENOIDEI.
Char.—Endo-skeleton ossified; exo-skeleton as ctenoid
scales (fig. 58); fins with one or more of the first rays
unjointed or inflexible spines; ventrals in most be¬
neath or in advance of the pectorals; swim-bladder
without air-duct.
Of this order may be given two genera, both of which
are now extinct. One {Semiophorus) be-
longs to the chetodont family;1 the other
{Smerdis) to the Percoids.2
The genus Semiophorus, Ag. (fig. 59),
is represented exclusively by extinct spe-
cies peculiar to the tertiary deposits at
Monte Bolca. It is characterized by the p- ro
extreme height or prolongation of the an- lg‘
terior part of the dorsal fin, D, and for Sc!lle of Ferca
the correlative elongation of the slender (Recent).
pointed ventral fins. I he anal fin, A, is much shorter
than the dorsal. Owing to the soluble nature of the scales,
and to the well-ossified skeleton, the fossils of this, as of
most other tertiary fishes, are exemplified by the vertebral
column and skull more than by the skin.
Sub-Order 2.—CYCLOIDEI.
Genus Smerdis.— The species composing this genus are
of small size, and are wholly extinct; they likewise are
Fig. 60.
Smerdis minutus (Gypsum of Provence),
also the preoperculum; but this has no spine at the
angle. The operculum terminates behind
by a rounded prominence. There are
two dorsals. The scales are minute, but
are occasionally preserved. Those of Smer¬
dis minutus present, under a magnifier, the
structure shown in fig. 61.
In the article Ichthyology, figures are
given of the two kinds of existing sword¬
fish {Xiphias, fig. 112 ; and Histiophorus,
fig. 113); in the former the sword-like pio. gi
prolongation of the confluent premaxillaries Scales'of Smerdis
is flattened, in the latter it is rounded. (mag.,
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Fossil remains of a rounded rapier¬
like sword, but much longer and more
slender than in the existing Histiophorus,
have been found in the eocene clay at
Sheppy and Bracklesham. They are
referred to an extinct genus ot the
xiphioid family by Agassiz, called Cce-
lorhynchus, or “ hollowbeak.” I he
most perfect specimen hitherto found
is figured in fig. 62, of half the natural
size. It forms part of the instructive
collection of Captain Le Hon at Brussels.
The upper transverse section shows the
single cavity at the middle of the ros¬
trum; and the lower section shows the
double or divided cavity near its base.
article Fossil Ichthyology. Since that was written, it Vertebrata,
has been determined that the “ schists of Glaris” and of
Monte Bolca,” belong to the eocene tertiary period.
Order V.—ANACANTHIN1.
Char.—Endo-skeleton ossified ; exo-ske¬
leton in some as cycloid, in others as
ctenoid scales ; fins supported by flexi¬
ble or jointed rays; ventrals beneath
the pectorals, or none; swim-bladder
without air-duct.
Family.—Pleuronectida:.
(Flat-Fishes.)
In this family the symmetrical form is
lost, and both eyes are on one side of the
head. Species of still existing genera of
this much-modified family have been
found in tertiary deposits. The little
turbot (Rhombus minimus, e.g., fig. 63)
occurs in the tertiary deposits of Monte
Bolca. An equally extinct species of
sole (Solea antiqud) has been found in
tertiary marls near Ulm.
Fossil fishes of the cod, mullet, carp,
salmon, and herring genera, are found in
the tertiary formations, but are distinct
from all known species.
The Ganoids are reduced to the ge¬
nera Lepidosteus and Acipenser, but may
have been represented by the palates
with crushing teeth, to which the names
Pisodus1 and Phyllodus1 have been
given. With respect to the fishes of the
tertiary period, “ they are so nearly re¬
lated,” says Agassiz, “ to existing forms,
that it is' often difficult, considering the
enormous number (above 8000) of liv¬
ing species, and the imperfect state of
preservation of the fossils, to determine
exactly their specific relations. In ge¬
neral I may say that I have not yet
found a single species which was perfectly
identical with any marine existing fish,
except the little species Mallotus villo-
sus, which is found in the nodules of
clay of unknown geological age in Green¬
land.”
For a list of the genera and species of
fossil fishes known at the date of publi¬
cation, reference may be made to the
Fig. 62.
Fig. 63.
Rhombus minimus (Monte Bolca).
We cannot, from present knowledge, assign to any past
period of the earth’s history a characteristic derived from
a fuller and more varied development of the entire class
of fishes than has since been manifested, nor predicate of
the present state of the class that it has degenerated in re¬
gard either to the number, bulk, powers, or range of mo¬
difications of the piscine type. A retrospect of the genetic
history of fishes imparts an idea rather of mutation than of
development, to which the class has been subject in the
course of geological time. Certain groups, now on the
wane, have existed in plenary development, as, e.g., the
ganoid order in the mezozoic period, and the cestraciont
form of Plagiostomes in both palaeozoic and mezozoic
times.
As to the variety of the forms of fishes, seeing that the
earth yields no evidence of Ctenoids or Cycloids3 anterior
to the cretaceous epoch, yet still retains living representa¬
tives of both Ganoids and Placoids, the present would ap¬
pear to be the culminating period in the development of
fishes, in respect of the number of ordinal forms or mo¬
difications of the class. It represents, however, rather a
period of mutation of the piscine character, depending
upon the progressive assumption of a more special piscine
type, and progressive departure from a more general ver¬
tebrate type. The Scomberoids, as fishes, are at the head
of the piscine modification of the vertebrate type. And
as the retention of general vertebrate characters implies
closer affinity with the proximate cold-blooded class, so a
higher character of organization may be predicated of the
palaeozoic Placoids and Ganoids than of the Ctenoids and
Cycloids forming the great bulk of the class at the present
day. The comparative anatomist dissecting a Shark, a
Polypterus, or a Lepidosteus, would point to the structures
of the brain, heart, generative organs, and in the last two
genera to the air-bladder, as being of a higher or a more
reptilian character than the corresponding parts would
present in most other fishes. But the palaeontologist would
point to the persistent notochord, and to the heterocer-
cal tail in palaeozoic and many mezozoic fishes, as evidence
of an “ arrest of development,” or of a retention of em¬
bryonic characters in those primaeval fishes.
No class of animals is more valuable in its application
to the great point now mooted by the Uniformitarians
and Progressionists of the present day than that of fishes ;
for they are exempt from the attack of the Uniformitarian
Rapier-like Cce- 
lorhynchus rec¬
tus, % nat. size j
(Eocene).
See Owen’s Odontography, p. 138, pi. 47, fig. 3.
See for the explanation of these terms in the system
vol. xii.
2 Ibid., p. 139, pi. 47, figs. 1 and 2-
of Agassiz the article Fossil Ichthyology, Ency. Brit.,
PALAEONTOLOGY.
129
Ichnology. on the score of the defect of negative evidence, to which
V v—^ attack conclusions from the known genetic history of air-
breathing animals are open. Many creatures living on
land may never be carried out to sea; but marine de¬
posits may be expected to yield adequate evidence lor
general conclusions as to the character of the verte¬
brate animals that swarmed in the seas precipitating such
deposits.
One other conclusion may be drawn from a general retro¬
spect of the mutations in the forms of the fishes at different
epochs of the earth’s history,—viz., that those species, such
as the nutritious cod, the savoury herring, the rich-flavoured
salmon, and the succulent turbot, have greatly predomi¬
nated at the period immediately preceding and accompany¬
ing the advent of man ; and that they have superseded
species which, to judge by the bony Garpikes (Lepidosteus),
were much less fitted to afford mankind a sapid and whole¬
some food.
covery; and the writer’s opinion, written on the inspection of Ichnology.
that drawing in October 1851, was to the effect that it was
a true saurian reptile. The fossil itself was subsequently
transmitted to London, and submitted to different palaeon¬
tological authorities. To the present writer was kindly
accorded the opportunities of having the requisite drawings
made for the illustration of the fossil in his History of Bri¬
tish Fossil Reptiles; the results of a minute and careful
comparison of the impression were briefly given in the
Literary Gazette of December 20; and the name Lepto-
pleuron, significative of its most conspicuous lacertian cha¬
racter, was proposed for it. Other palaeontologists regarded
the fossil as a batrachian reptile,3 and Dr Mantell assigned
to it the name of Telerpeton; but all concurred that it be¬
longed to an air-breathing vertebrate animal. The fol¬
lowing is the summary of the grounds on which the writer’s
conclusions as to the higher affinities of the little Elgin
reptile, in its class, were based:—
ICHNOLOGY.1
In entering upon the genetic history of the class of
reptiles, we have to inquire, as in that of fishes, in what
period of the earth’s history the class was introduced, and
under what forms; at what period it attained its plenary
development, in regard to the size, grade of structure,
number and diversities of its representatives; and the rela¬
tions which the existing members of the class bear to its
past condition. Fifteen years ago, the oldest known rep¬
tilian remains were those of the so-called “ 1 huringian
Monitor,” from the Permian copper-slates of Germany.
Five years ago, the batrachian Apateon, or Archegosaurus
of the Bavarian coal-field, represented the known com¬
mencement of reptilian existence. In October 1851 the
following notice appeared in the Elgin Courant for the
10th of that month :—
“ Geological Discovery. — A fossil has been obtained
from the old red sandstone at Spynie, near Elgin, which
serves to establish the fact that air-breathing Verte-
brata of the order Sauria existed during the deposition
of the Devonian system of rocks, which hitherto had
only been surmised from the discovery of impressions
of foot-prints on the surface of the strata. This fossil, or
rather impression, was brought to a gentleman in Elgin, who
now possesses it, by a quarryman, who with praiseworthy
care preserved the fragments, without tampering with the
impression to any injurious extent, so that its character is
unmistakeable. It presents the figure of a reptile about
four inches in length, showing the head containing frag¬
ments of conical teeth, part of the neck, the back-bone and
ribs, the pelvic bones and hind legs, with part of the tail
(the rest of the tail, which seems to have been long, being
still unexposed). The appearance of this small specimen
is very striking,—the animal matter in its decomposition
having stained the matrix to a dark ochre, while the rest
of the stone is a pale gray, almost white. No doubt this
interesting relic will receive a more scientific description
than we can pretend to give, but we cannot resist the im¬
pulse to announce the occurrence in this district of an object
so well calculated to forward the investigations of geolo¬
gists.”2
An accurate drawing of this fossil was transmitted to the
writer by its possessor, Mr Patrick Duff of Elgin, together
with the newspaper containing his announcement of the dis-
<< Vertebrate air-breathing Life in the Old Red Sandstone.
“ Our readers may recollect that the geological world was startled
by the announcement, in the Elgin Courant of October 10th, of the
discovery of a fossil reptile in the ‘ old red’ at Spynie, near Elgin.
The specimen has been submitted to the examination of Professor
Owen, from whom we have received the following notice of its
nature and affinities :—
“ Royal College of Surgeons, Bee. 15, 1851.
“ Mr Duff, the proprietor of the very remarkable fossil recently
discovered in a sandstone of the Devonian system of rocks at Elgin,
transmitted me a drawing of it, with the request that I would un¬
dertake its examination; to which having gladly acceded, the spe¬
cimen itself was brought to me by a friend of Mr Duff’s. It is the
impression, in two pieces of a gray variety of the old red sandstone,
of a long and slender four-footed vertebrate animal, four inches and
a half in length, clearly belonging, by the form, proportions, and
positions of the scapular and pelvic arches, and their appended
limbs, to the reptilian class. The osseous substance has disappeared ;
the cavities in the sandstone which contained it remain, stained by
a deposit of an ochreous tint. The impressions are so well defined
as clearly to show that there were twenty-six vertebrae between the
skull and sacrum, two sacral vertebrae, and thirteen caudal verte¬
brae, before the tail disappears by dipping into an unexposed part
of the matrix. Impressions of twenty-one pairs of ribs are pre¬
served, all very slender, short where they commence near the head,
but rapidly gaining length as they are placed further back. The
cervical and anterior ribs are expanded, but not bifurcate, at their
vertebral end; all the ribs articulate close to the bodies of the ver¬
tebrae. In the crocodilian reptiles the anterior ribs are bifurcate,
and the posterior ones, with a simple head, articulate with long
diapophyses. The distinctive characters of the batrachian skeleton
are the double occipital condyle ; ribs wanting, or very short and
subequal; a single sacral vertebra, and rib-shaped ilium. The
first character cannot be determined, the occipital articulation
not being preserved in the fossil. Instead of the second cha¬
racter, the fossil shows ribs of varied length, and most of them
much longer than in the salamanders, newts, or any known 13a-
trachian. ° With regard to the third character, the impression in
the matrix clearly shows two sacral vertebrae and a short subquad-
rate pelvis.
“ Both the humerus and the femur show the lacertian sigmoid
shape, and near equality of length, which distinguish thein alike
from the crocodilian and batrachian orders; they are likewise, as
in lizards, relatively longer than in the newts and salamanders.
Near the imperfect impression of the head may be seen the hollow
bases of some large, slightly-compressed, conical teeth, which also
tell for the saurian and against the batrachian nature of this an¬
cient reptile. I propose to call it Leptopleuron lacertinum.* Many
particulars of minor import, bearing upon the more immediate
affinities of this most rare and interesting fossil, have been noted,
and will be given, with the figures, in my History of British Fossil
Reptiles, for which work Mr Duff has kindly consented to place the
a footstep, and y.oyt>f. Elgin Courant, Oct. 10, 18ol.
3 The following notice of this determination of the fossil will be found in the Athenceum of Dec. 13, in the title of a paper to be read
at the ensuing meeting of the Geological Society :—■“ Notice of the occurrence of tossil I) oot-Tracks, and the Remains of a llatrachian
Reptile, in the Old Red Sandstone of Morayshire, by Capt. Brickenden and Dr Mantell.”
4 Aswro;, slender, wXivgov, rib; for this compound we have the authority of Poikilopleuron, already applied to an extinct genus of
Saurians.
YOL. XVII. * R
PALAEONTOLOGY.
130
Ichnology. specimen at my disposal. In the meanwhile, I beg to offer the
- r “ j above precis of the main characters of the fossil.
^ ~ “ Richard Owen.”
Admitting the saurian affinities of the Leptopleuron, it
may have been, like the little Amblyrhynchus of the Gallo-
pagos Islands, a lizard of marine habits. As no part of the
osseous texture is preserved, and the impressions of the
vertebrae are only those of the neural arches, we cannot be
assured that the bodies of the vertebrae may not have been un¬
ossified, and in the same embryonal stage as in some reptiles,
next to be noticed, from the coal formations. It is most
probable, however, that the Leptopleuron was more nearly
allied to the thecodont than to the labyrinthodont Reptilia.
Very recently the remains of a true saurian reptile, pro¬
tected by pitted bony plates like those of crocodiles, but
with a broad coracoid like that of Cetiosaurus or Polypty-
chodon, have been discovered in the same formation and
locality.1 The matrix is a fine-grained whitish sandstone,
with a cement of carbonate of lime. It belongs, according
to Sedgwick and Murchison, to the uppermost beds of the
“ old red” or Devonian system. As yet, however, no
characteristic Devonian or old red fossils of any class
have been discovered associated with the foregoing evi¬
dences of reptiles, which, according to the determination of
strata by characteristic fossils, would belong to the second¬
ary or mezozoic period. In the same sandstone, in the
quarry at Cummingstone, near Elgin, a continuous series
of thirty-four impressions have been observed by Captain
Binkendon, and attributed by him to the foot-prints of a
quadruped. The impressions are in pairs, forming two
parallel rows, the hind one being one inch in diameter, and
larger than the fore one in the proportion of three to four.
The stride of the animal, on this hypothesis, must have
been about four inches.
There are several circumstances under which impressions
made on a part of the earth’s surface, soft enough to admit
them, may be preserved after the impressing body has
perished. When a shell sinks into sand or mud, which in
course of time becomes hardened into stone, and when the
shell is removed by any solvent that may have filtered
through the matrix, its place may become occupied by crys¬
talline or other mineral matter, and the evidence of the
shell be thus preserved by a cast, for which the cavity made
by the shell has served as a mould. If the shell has sunk
with its animal within it, the plastic matrix may enter the
dwelling-chamber as far as the retracted soft parts will
permit; and as these slowly melt away, their place may
become occupied by crystallized deposits of any silicious,
calcareous, or other crystallizable matter that may have
been held in solution by water percolating the matrix, and
such crystalline deposit may receive and retain some colour
from the soft parts of which it thus becomes a cast.
Evidences of soft-bodied animals, such as Actinice and
Medusce, and of the excremental droppings of higher ani¬
mals, have been thus preserved. Fossil remains, as they
are called, of soft plants, such as sea-weeds, reeds, cala-
mites, and the like, are usually casts in matrix made natu¬
rally after the plant itself has wholly perished.
Even where the impressing force or body has been re¬
moved directly' or shortly after it has made the pressure,
evidence of it may be preserved. The hailstone, the ripple
wave, the rain-drop, even the wind that bore it along and
drove it slanting on the sand, have been registered in casts
of the cavities which they originally made on the soft sea-
beach ; and the evidence of these and other meteoric actions,
so written on imperishable stone, have come down to us
from times incalculably remote. Every form of animal life Ichnology.
that, writhing, crawling, walking, running, hopping, or leap-
ing, could leave a track, depression, or foot-print, behind it,
might thereby leave similar lasting evidence of its existence,
and also to some extent of its nature.
The interpretation of such evidences of ancient life has
much exercised the sagacity of naturalists since Dr Duncan,
in 1828, first inferred the existence of tortoises at the period
of the deposition of certain sandstones in Dumfriesshire,
from the impressions left on those sandstones, and the casts
afterwards formed in those impressions. The faculty of in¬
terpreting has been still more racked by similar evidences
of more extraordinary foot-prints, probably of large batra-
chian reptiles, first noticed in 1834 at Hildberghausen in
Saxony, in sandstones of the same geological age as those
in Scotland.
The vast number and variety of such impressions, due
either to physical or meteoric forces, to dead organic bodies,
parts or products, or to the transitory actions of living
beings, have at length raised up a distinct branch of palae¬
ontological research, to which the term “ Ichnology ” has
been given.
In this class of evidences the impressions called “ prot-
ichnites”2 (fig. 64), left upon the “Potsdam sandstones”
of the older Silurian age in Canada, are the most ancient;
but the foot-prints of birds surpass all others in regard to
their number, distinctness, and variety of sorts.
But how, it may be asked, are such foot-prints preserved?
A common mode may be witnessed daily on those shores
where the tide runs high, and the sea-bottom is well adapted
to receive and retain the impressions made upon it at low-
water.
Dr Gould of Boston, U.S., first called the attention of
naturalists to this interesting operation on the shores of the
Bay of Fundy, where the tide is said to rise in some places
70 feet in height. The particles deposited by that immense
tidal wave are derived from the destruction of previously
existing rocks, and consist of silicious (flinty) and mica¬
ceous (talcky) particles, cemented together by calcareous
(limy) or argillaceous (clayey) paste, containing salts of
soda, especially the muriate (common salt), and coloured
with various shades of the oxide of iron, of which the red
oxide predominates. The perfection of the surface for
receiving and retaining an impression depends much upon
the micaceous element. Vast are the numbers of wading
and sea birds that course to and fro over the extensive tract
of plastic red surface left dry by the far retreat of the tide
in the Bay of Fundy. During the period that elapses be¬
tween one spring tide and the next, the highest part of the
tidal deposit is exposed long enough to receive and retain
many impressions; even during the hours of hot sunshine,
to which, in the summer months, this so-trodden tract is
left exposed, the layer last deposited becomes baked hard
and dry, and before the returning tidal wave, turbid with
the same comminuted materials of a second stratum, has
power to break up the preceding one, the impressions left on
that stratum have received the deposit. A cast is thus taken
of the mould previously made, and the sediment superim¬
posed by each succeeding tide, tends more and more surely
to fix it in its place. Then, let ages pass away, and the
petrifying influences consolidate the sand layers into a
fissile rock: it will split in the way it was formed, and the
cleavage will expose the old moulds on one surface and the
casts on the other.
Another condition for fixing the impressions on a sandy
shore is the following:—When an extensive level tract is
1 They were submitted by Sir R. Murchison to the writer’s examination at the meeting of the British Association at Leeds, September
24, 1858 : similar fossils had previously been assigned to the class of fishes, by the name Steganolepis.
2 See Owen, “ Description of the Impressions and Foot-prints of the Protichnites from the Potsdam Sandstone of Canada, Quarterly
Journal of the Geological Society, 1852, p. 214. . 3 bogan, ibid., p. 2.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Ichnology. left dry by the retreating tide, as at the estuary of the
small rivers entering the Bay of Morecombe, on the Lan¬
cashire coast, those rivers occasionally overflow the sands
at low-water, and deposit in the foot-prints made previous
to such overflow the fine mud which sudden heavy rains
have brought down from the surrounding hills. Again,
those sudden “ freshets,” as they are locally called, some¬
times as quickly subside, and the thin layer of argillaceous
mud is left dry on the sand before the returning tide.
Such layer of mud readily receives and retains the foot¬
prints of the many birds that course over the flat expanse;
and as the tide returns, it deposits in such foot-prints
a layer of the fine sand which the rising waters hold in
suspension.
The best-defined foot-prints in the new red sandstone
quarries at Stourton, on the Cheshire coast, are found where
strata of sandstone are separated by a thin layer of argil¬
laceous stone, which, when exposed, soon breaks up and
crumbles away. This layer has, how’ever, received the im¬
pressions when it was plastic, and the superincumbent de¬
posit of sandstone retains those impressions in relief upon
its under surface. The observations which have just been
recorded, of the circumstances that produce an interposition
of a thin layer of claystone between thicker beds of sand¬
stone, and which circumstances the writer has witnessed in
the Bay of Morecombe, explain the formation and the pre¬
servation of the best “ ichnites” of the labyrinthodont and
other reptiles in the new red sandstone of Stourton.
There is a third condition under which impressions, and
casts of impressions, on a sandy beach may be preserved.
On a dry windy day clouds of fine sand are drifted along
the surface exposed at low-water, are spread lightly over
all its little inequalities, and fill up every impression that
may have been made on it since it was left bare by the
retreating waves. On the return of the tide, the fine sand
filling the impressions is moistened, and more wet fine sand
is added to it; and a cast is thus fixed in the moulds, to be
more and more firmly fixed by each deposition from suc¬
cessive tidal waves.
Thus may be witnessed the actual conditions and the
circumstances daily occurring that tend to preserve foot¬
prints and other impressions made on the sea-shore, and
which have operated in past time to similarly preserve the
impressions then made on tracts alternately exposed and
covered by the tidal wave. The merit of having first dis¬
cerned the nature and cause of the numerous small hemi¬
spheric pits and tubercular casts in relief on the surface of
certain sandstone slabs, is due to John Cunningham, Esq.,
F.G.S., architect, of Liverpool.1 Since that light was
thrown on their nature, they have been recognised under
various modifications, as impressions of soft rain, of the
big-dropped thunder-shower, of rain driven obliquely by
the gale, and making impressions with the side of the cup
highest opposite the point whence the wind blew, of frozen
rain or hail, &c. Whenever a stratum is proved to be a
“ sedimentary” one,—i. e., to be due to the precipitation of
its constituent particles from water, in which they had been
previously suspended,—we have evidence of some expanse
of water,—proof, in fact, of the existence of that element,
with all its properties of condensation by cold, and expan¬
sion and vaporization by heat and exposure. Evaporation
makes the raw material of rain. No wonder, then, that
impressions of rain-drops should be seen on the oldest
sedimentary rocks. Conditions are co-ordinated in meteoric
as in organic phenomena; one being given, the rest may
be deduced.
ihe oldest rocks in which rain-drop impressions have
been observed are those of the Cambrian age at Longmynd,
131
Wales, described and figured by Mr Salter.2 Many of the Ichnology.
micaceous flags of the same formation are covered with i y
ripple, or current marks. They show borings of worms,
and a trace of a trilobite (Palceopyge) nearly allied to the
fiikelocephalus—the oldest known trilobite of America
(Lower Silurian or Cambrian at St Croix, Minnesota).
It is in “ Potsdam sandstones” of the same geological
antiquity that the impressions have been discovered which
the writer has interpreted to be those of a large entomos-
traceous Crustacean, in evidence of which the following
sample, applicable to a single species, may be given, in
illustration of the ichnologist’s mode of work.
Protichnites septem-notatus (fig. 64).
The subject so named consists of a series of well-defined impres¬
sions, continued in regular succession along an extent of 4 feet;
and traceable, with an inferior degree of definition, along a further
extent of upwards of 2 feet.
Fig. 64.
Protichnites 7-notatus (Cambrian).
In the extent of 4 feet there are thirty successive groups of foot¬
prints on each side of a median furrow, which is alternately deep
and shallow along pretty regular spaces of about 2£ inches in
extent. The number of prints is not the same in each group;
where they are best marked, as in fig. 64, 1 L, we see 3 prints in
one group, a, a', a", 2 prints in the next, h, h', and 2 in the third,
c, c', which is followed by a repetition of the group of 3 prints,
a, a', a”, making the numbers in the three successive groups 3, 2, 2;
the three groups of impressions being recognisably repeated in
succession along the whole series of tracks on both sides of the
median groove.
The principal foot-prints are disposed in pairs, placed with dif¬
ferent degrees of obliquity, in each of the three groups, towards
the median track ; the innermost print in the second, B, and third,
C, pairs, which are best marked, being usually rather more than
half the size of the outer print, b' and c'.
The two foot-prints of the same pair are a little further apart
from each other, in the three succeeding pairs, as at a', a", b, b',
c, c', especially in the second and third groups of each set; the two
forming the pair a', a!' again approximating in the next series, and
the pairs 6, b' and c, c' diverging in the same direction and degree ;
and this alternate approximation and divergence is repeated
throughout the entire series of the present tracks.
But what strikes the ichnologist, heretofore conversant chiefly
with the foot-prints of bipeds or quadrupeds, is the occurrence in
1 Communicated by Dr Buckland to the meeting of the British Association at Newcastle, 1838; and subsequently by Mr Cunningham
to the Geol. Soc. (Proc. of the Geol. Soc., vol. iii., 1839, p. 99.) 2 Quar. Jour, of the Geol. Soc., vol. xii., 1856, p. 250, pi. iv., fig. 4.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
132
Ichnology. the present series of the third impression a, which complicates the
most approximated pair A, being placed in front and a little to
the inner side of the hindmost impression, a', of that pair. The
superadded impression a, is about the same size as the innermost
in each pair, the average diameter of that impression being 5 lines.
Taking this view of the impressions, it appears that whilst the
innermost in each pair, a', b, c, are of equal size, the outermost,
a", b', o', 1 L, progressively increase in size, from the most approxi¬
mated to the most divergent of the three pairs; that of the first,
a", being narrow in proportion to its length, that of the second, b ,
as broad as long, and the outermost, c', c", of the third pair being
oblong, but larger than that in the first pair. In some places
where the most approximated pair of impressions, a', a", are deeply
marked, they are complicated by a fourth shallow and very small
pit, a1", 2 L, midway between the third, a, and the outermost, a7,
of the pair of impressions.
There are no clear or unequivocal marks of toes or nails on any
of the impressions which form the lateral pairs or triplets. Their
margins are not sharply defined, but are rounded off, and sink
gradually to the deepest part, which is a little behind the middle
of the depression. There is a slight variation in the form and
depth of the answerable impressions, but not such as to prevent
their correspondence being readily appreciable through the whole
of the extent here described; that is to say, the innermost of each
of the three pairs here described as first, A, second, B, and third,
C, may be identified with the corresponding innermost impression
on the opposite side, and with the same impression of the same pair
in the three preceding and the three succeeding pairs.
The impressions selected for fig. 64 clearly demonstrate that the
animal, progressing in an undulating course, made at each action
of its locomotive members, answering to the single step of the biped
and the double step of the quadruped, not fewer than, in Protich-
niUs 7-notatus, fourteen impressions, seven on the right and seven
on the left; and in Protichnites 8-notatus, sixteen impressions, eight
on the right and eight on the left; these seven and eight impres¬
sions respectively being arranged in three groups,—viz., in Protich¬
nites 7-notatus, three, two, and two; in Protichnites 8-notatus, three,
two, and three,— the groups being re-impressed, in successive series,
so similarly and so regularly as to admit of no doubt that they were
made by repeated applications of the same impressing instruments,
capable of being moved so far in advance as to clear the previous im¬
pressions and make a series of new ones at the same distance from
them as the sets of impressions in the series are from each other.
What then was the nature of these instruments ? To this three replies
may be given, or hypotheses suggested:—They were made either,
first, as in the case of quadrupedal impressions, each by his own
limb, which would give seven and eight pairs of limbs to the two
species respectively ; or, secondly, certain pairs of the limbs were
bifurcate, as in some insects and crustaceans, another pair or pairs
being trifurcate at their extremities; and each group of impressions
was made by a single so subdivided limb, in which case we have
evidence of a remarkably broad and short, and, as regards ambula¬
tory legs, hexapod creature; or, thirdly, three pairs of limbs were
bifurcate, and the supplementary pits were made by small super-
added limbs, as in some crustaceans ; or, fourthly, a single broad fin-
like member, divided at its impressing border into seven or into
eight obtuse points, so arranged as to leave the definite pattern de¬
scribed, must have made the series of three groups by successive
applications to the sand.
The latter hypothesis appears to be the least probable,—first, as
being most remote from any known analogy ; and, secondly, because
there are occasional varieties in the groups of foot-prints which
would hardly accord with impressions left by one definitely sub¬
divided instrument or member. Thus in the group of impressions
marked 1 L in fig. 64, the outer impression, c7, is single, but in the
preceding set it is divided ; whilst the impressions a, a', are con¬
fluent in that set, and are separate in 1 L. The same variety oc¬
curs in the outer pair, c7, c77, in Protichnites 8-notatus..
Yet, with respect to the hypothesis that each impression was made
by its own independent limb, there is much difficulty in conceiving
how seven or eight pairs of jointed limbs could be aggregated in so
short a space of the sides of one animal. So that the most probable
hypothesis is, that the creatures which have left these tracks and
impressions on the most ancient of known sea-shores belonged to an
articulate and probably crustaceous genus, either with three pairs
of limbs employed in locomotion, and severally divided to accord
with the number of prints in each of the three groups, or bifurcated
merely, the supplementary and usually smaller impressions being
made by a small and simple fourth, or fourth and fifth pair of ex¬
tremities.
The great entomostraceous king-crab (Limulus), which has the
small anterior pair of limbs near the middle line, and the next four Reptilia.
lateral pairs of limbs bifurcate at the free extremity, the last pair
of lateral limbs with four lamelliform appendages, and a long and
slender hard tail, comes the nearest to my idea of the kind of ani¬
mal which has left the impressions on the Potsdam sandstone.
The shape of the pits, so clearly shown in the ice-rubbed slabs,
impressed by Protichnites 8-notatus, accords best with the hard, sub-
obtuse, and subangular terminations of a crustaceous ambulatory
limb, such as may be seen in the blunted legs of a large Palinurus or
Birgus ; and it is evident that the animal of the Potsdam sandstone
moved directly forwards after the manner of the Macroura and
Xiphosura, and not sideways, like the brachyurous Crustaceans.
The appearances in the slab impressed by the Protichnites multi-
notatus favour the view of the median track having been formed by
a caudal appendage, rather than by a prominent part of the under
surface of the trunk.
The imagination is baffled in the attempt to realize the extent of
time past since the period when the creatures were in being that
moved upon the sandy shores of that most ancient Silurian sea , and
we know that, with the exception of the microscopic forms of life,
all the actual species of animals came into being at a period geolo¬
gically very recent in comparison with the Silurian epoch.
The deviations from the living exemplars of animal types usually
become greater as we descend into the depths of time past: of this
the Archegosaur and Ichthyosaur are instances in the reptilian class,
and the Pterichihys and Coccosteus in that of fishes. If the verte¬
brate type has undergone such inconceivable modifications during
the Secondary and Devonian periods, what may not have been the
modifications of the articulate type during a period probably more
remote from the secondary period than this is from the present
time. In all probability no living form of animal bears such a re¬
semblance to that which the Potsdam foot-prints indicate as to
afford an exact illustration of the shape and number of the instru¬
ments, and of the mode of locomotion, of the Silurian Protichnites.
Since the foregoing interpretation of the Silurian Ichnites of
North America was published, similar impressions have been ob¬
served in rocks of the like high antiquity in Scotland, as at Binks,
Eskdale, which have received the name of Protichnites Scoticus.1
Class I.—REPTILIA.
Sub-Class 1.—AMPHIBIA.
(Batrachia.)
Genus Batrachopus [Batrachopus primrevus, King.)—
In 1844 the scientific world was startled with the an¬
nouncement by Dr King of Greensburg, Pennsylvania, of
the fact that he had discovered unquestionable fossil foot¬
marks of reptiles in the sandstone of the coal measuies, in
Westmoreland county, near that town. No reptilian foot¬
prints or saurian remains had previously been found lower
in the series than the new red sandstone. Dr King states
the impressions to be u near 800 feet beneath the topmost
stratum of the coal formation.”
Sir C. Lyell, in Silliman’s Journal, July 1846, describes
his visit to Greensburg, where he examined these foot¬
marks, and sustained Dr King’s observation and description
of them. He considered them to be allied to the labyrin-
thodont foot-prints which have been referred to the genus
Cheirotherium. He says,—“ I hey consist, as before stated,
of the tracks of a large reptilian quadruped, in a sandstone
in the middle of the carboniferous series, a fact full of
novelty and interest; for here in Pennsylvania, for the first
time, we meet with evidence of the existence of air-breath¬
ing quadrupeds capable of roaming in those forests where
the Sigillaria, Lepidodendron, Caulopteris, Calamites, ferns,
and other plants flourished.”
These foot-marks were first observed standing out in relief from
the lower surface of slabs of sandstone resting on thin layers of fine
unctuous clay, which also exhibited the cracks due to shrinking and
drying. Now these cracks, where they traversed the foot-prints,
had produced distortion in them, for the mud must have been soft
when the animal walked over it and left the impressions ; whereas,
when it afterwards dried up and shrunk, it would be too hard to
receive such indentations, and could only affect them in the way of
subsequent dislocation.
i Harkness and Salter “ On the Lowest Rocks of Eskdale,” Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, vol. xn., pp. 238, 243, fig. 2.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
133
Reptilia -^° ^ess ^an twenty-three footsteps, the greater part so arranged
^ / as to imply that they were made successively by the same animal,
^ ^ were observed by Dr King in the same quarry.
Everywhere there was a double row of tracks, and in each row
they occur in pairs, each pair consisting of a hind and fore foot,
and each being at nearly equal distances from the next pair. The
hind foot-print is about one-third larger than the fore foot-print:
it has five toes, but the front one only four; some of them exhibit
a stunted rudiment of the innermost toe or “ pollex/’ which is the
undeveloped one. The outermost toe in the hind foot-print is
shorter and rather thicker than the rest, and stands out like a
thumb on the wrong side of the hand.
With this general resemblance to the foot-prints of Labyrintho-
don, from the new red sandstones of Europe, there are well-marked
distinctions. In the first place, the right and left series of impres¬
sions are wider apart, indicative of a broader-bodied animal. The
front print in Batrachopus has only four well-developed toes in¬
stead of five, as in Labyrinthodon ; it is also proportionably larger,
—the fore foot in Labyrinthodon being less than half the size of
the hind foot. The distance between the fore and hind print of
each pair, and of one such pair from the next on the same side, is
nearly the same in Batrachopus and Labyrinthodon.
Genus Saukopus, Rogers.—Very similar foot-prints were dis¬
covered and described by Mr Isaac Lea in a formation of red shales,
at the base of the coal measures at Pottsville, 78 miles N.E. of
Philadelphia. These are of older date than the preceding, inas¬
much as a thickness of 1700 feet of strata intervenes between the
foot-prints at Greensfield and these older Pottsville impressions.
Professor H. D. Rogers, in 1851, announced his discovery in the
same red shales, between the Devonian and carboniferous series, of
three species of four-footed animals, which he deems to have been
rather saurian than batrachian, seeing that each foot was five¬
toed ; one species, the largest of the three, presented a diameter
for each foot-print of about two inches, and showed the fore and
hind feet to be nearly equal in dimensions. It exhibits a length of
stride of about 9 inches, and a breadth between the right and left
footsteps of nearly 4 inches. The impressions of the hind feet are
but little in the rear of the fore feet. With these foot-marks were
associated shrinkage cracks, such as are caused by the sun’s heat
upon mud, and rain-drop pittings, with the signs of the trickling of
water on a wet beach,—all confirming the conclusions derived irom
the foot-prints, that the quadrupeds belonged to air-breathers, and
not to a class of animals living in and breathing water.
Order I.—Ganocephala.
Genus Apateon, Von M.; Archegosaurus,1 Goldf.—
Certain Ibssils, discovered in the sphserosideritic clay-slate
forming the upper member of the Bavarian coal measures; Reptilia
and also in splitting spheroidal concretions from the coal-
field of Saarsbruck, near Treves, had been referred to the
class of fishes (Pygopterus Lucius, Agassiz). But a speci¬
men from the Brandschieter of Miinster-Appel presented
characters which were recognised by Dr Gergens to be
those of a salamandroid reptile.2 Dr Gergens placed his
“salamander” in the hands of H. von Meyer for description,
who communicated the result of his examination in a later
number of the under-cited journal.3 In this notice the
author states that the salamander affinities of the fossil in
question, for which he proposes the name of Apateon
pedestris, “are by no means demonstrated.”4 “Its head
might be that of a fish as well as that of a lizard, or of a
Batrachian.” “ There is no trace of bones or limbs.” M. von
Meyer concludes by stating that, in order to test the hypo¬
thesis of the Apateon being a fossil fish, he has sent to
Agassiz a drawing with a description of it.
Three years later, better preserved and more instructive
specimens of the problematical fossil were obtained by
Professor von Dechen irom the Bavarian coal-fields, and
were submitted to the examination of Professor Goldfuss
of Bonn : he published a quarto Memoir on them, with good
figures, referring them to a saurian genus which he calls
Archegosaurus, or primaeval lizard, deeming it to be a
transitional type between the fish-like Batrachia and the
lizards and crocodiles.5 6
The estimable author, on the occasion of publishing the
above Memoir, transmitted to the writer excellent casts of
the originals therein described and figured. These casts
were presented to the museum of the Royal College of Sur¬
geons, and were described by him in his Catalogue of the
Fossil Reptiles, 4to, 1850. The conclusions which the
writer formed thereupon as to the position and affinities of
the Archegosaurus in the reptilian class were communi¬
cated in the Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society,
vol. iv., 1848. One of the specimens appeared to present
evidence of persistent branchial arches. The osseous struc¬
ture of the skull, especially of the orbits, through the com¬
pleted zygomatic arches, indicated an affinity to the Laby-
rinthodonts; but the vertebrae and numerous very short
Fig. 65.
Apateon or Archegosaurus (Carboniferous).
ribs, with the indications of stunted swimming limbs, im¬
pressed the writer with the conviction of the near alliance
of the Archegosaurus with the Proteus and other perenni-
branchiate reptiles.
This conclusion of the affinity of Archegosaurus to existing types
of the reptilian class is confirmed by subsequently-discovered speci¬
mens, some of which have been acquired by the British Museum,
others have been described and figured by H. von Meyer in his Palas-
ontographica (Bd. vi., 2to Lief. 1857) ; more especially by his disco¬
very of the embryonal condition of the vertebral column,—i.e., of
the persistence of the notochord, and the restriction of ossification
to the arches and peripheral vertebral elements. In this structure
.the old carboniferous reptile resembled the existing Lepidosiren,
1 Asras-saiv, a cheat; beginning, craves, lizard.
2 Mainz, Oktober 1843. “ In dem Brandschiefer von Miinstermappel in Rhein-Baiern babe ich in vorigen Jabre einen Salamander auf-
gefunden. Gehbrt dieser Schiefer der Kohlen-formation ? in diesem falle ware der Fund auch in anderen Hinsicht interessant. (Leon¬
hard und Bronn, Neues Jahrbuch fur Mineralogie, &c., 1844, p. 49.) _ 3 Ibid*, 1844, p. 336.
4 “ Ob das—Apateon pedestris—ein Salamander-artiges Geschbpf war, est keinesweg ausgemacht. (Ibid.)
fi “ Archegosaurus, Fossile-Saurier aus dem Stein kohlengebirge die den Uebergang der Ichthyoden zu den Lacerten und Krokodilen
bilden,” p. 3. (Beitrage zur vorweltlichen Fauna des Steinkohlengebirges, 4to, 1847.)
6 Reptilien aus der Steinkohlen Formation in Deutchland, Sechster Band, p. 61.
134
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Reptilia. and affords farther ground for regarding that remarkable existing
V _ t animal as one which obliterates the line of demarcation between
the fishes and the reptiles.
Coincident with this non-ossified state of the basis of the verte¬
bral bodies of the trunk (fig. 65, «), is the absence of the ossified
occipital condyles which characterizes the skull in better developed
Batrachia. The fore part of the notochord has extended into the
basi-sphenoid region, and its capsule has connected it by ligament
to the broad flat ossifications of expansions of the same capsule,
forming the basi-occipital or basi-sphenoid plate. In fig. 60 are
represented the chief modifications of the vertebrae, as shown in
the neck, thorax, abdomen, sacrum, and tail. The vertebrae of the
trunk in the fully-developed full-sized animal present the follow¬
ing stage of ossification :—•
The neurapophyses (fig. 65, w) coalesce at top to form the arch
from the summit of which was developed a compressed, sub-quad¬
rate, moderately high spine, with the truncate or slightly convex
summit expanded in the fore and aft direction so as to touch the
contiguous spines in the back; the spines are distinct in the tail.
The sides of the base of the neural arch are thickened and ex¬
tended outwards into diapophyses, having a convex articular sur¬
face for the attachment of the rib, pi; the fore-part is slightly pro¬
duced at each angle into a zygapophysis looking upwards and a
little forward; the hinder part was much produced backwards,
supporting two thirds of the neural spine, and each angle deve¬
loped into a zygapophysis, with a surface of opposite aspects to the
anterior one. In the capsule of the notochord three bony plates
were developed, one on the ventral surface, and one on each side,
at or near the back part of the diapophysis. These bony plates
may be termed cortical parts of the centrum, in the same sense in
which that term is applied to the element which is called “ body of
the atlas ” in man and Mammalia, and “ sub-vertebral wedge-bone”
at the fore part of the neck in Enaliosauria.
As such neural or inferior cortical elements co-exist with seem¬
ingly complete centrums in the Ichthyosaurus, thus affording ground
for deeming them essentially distinct from a true centrum, the
term “ hypopophysis ” has been proposed for such independent
inferior ossifications in and from the notochordal capsule; and by
that term may be signified the sub-notochordal plates in Archego•
saurus, which co-exist with proper hsemapophyses (h) in the tail.
In the trunk they are flat, subquadrate, oblong bodies, with the
angles rounded off; in the tail they bend upwards by the exten¬
sion of the ossification from the under to the side parts of the noto¬
chordal capsule; sometimes touching the lateral cortical plates.
These serve to strengthen the notochord and support the interver¬
tebral nerve in its outward passage. The ribs (pi) are short, almost
straight, expanded and flattened at the ends, round and slender at
the middle. They are developed throughout the trunk and along
part of the tail, co-existing there with the hasmal arches, as in the
Menopome.1 The haemal arches (h), which are at first open at
their base, become closed by extension of ossification inwards
from each produced angle, converting the notch into a foramen.
This forms a wide oval, the apex being produced into a long
spine ; but towards the end of the tail the spine becomes shortened,
and the haemal arch reduced to a mere flattened ring.
The size of the canal for the protection of the caudal blood-ves¬
sels indicates the powerful muscular actions of that part, as the
produced spines from both neural and haemal arches bespeak the
provision made for muscular attachments, and the vertical develop¬
ment of the caudal swimming organ.
The skull of the Archegosaurus appears to have retained much of
its primary cartilage internally, and ossification to have been chiefly
active at the surface; where, as in the combined dermo-neural ossi¬
fications of the skull in the sturgeons and salamandroid fishes, e.g.
Polypterus, Amia, Lepidosteus, these ossifications have started from
centres more numerous than those of the true vertebral system in
the skull of saurian reptiles. This gives the character of the pre¬
sent extinct order of Batrachia.
The skull is much flattened or depressed, triangular, with rounded
angles, and the front one more or less produced according to the
species; and in some species according to the age of the indivi¬
dual. The base is concave; the sides nearly straight, or slightly
concave. The basi-occipital appears to have retained its primordial
soft, unossified state.
Of the ex-occipitals, in a distinctly ossified state, no clear view has
yet been had. The super-occipital (fig. 65, 4) is represented, as in
the salamandroid fishes, by a pair of flat bones, more probably de¬
veloped in the epicranial membrane and integument than in the
cartilaginous protocranium.
The pair of bones external to these, and forming the prominent
angles of the occipital region, represent the “ par-occipitals.”
The lower peripheral surface of the basi-sphenoidal cartilage is Reptilia.
ossified with a concave border towards the notochord behind, to the .
capsule of which it seems to have been attached. The ali-sphenoids
were doubtless cartilaginous, and the protocranium there unaltered,
as it was apparently in the ex-occipital region.
The peripheral ossifications above representing the “ parietal ”
(7), form a pair of oblong flat bones, with the “ foramen parietal ”
in the mid-suture. External to these, and wedged between them,
the super- and par-occipitals, are the pair of bones answering to the
“ mastoids ” (8). They give attachment externally and below to the
tympanic (28), and to a subsidiary bony plate, holding the position
of that development of the mastoid which roofs over the temporal
fossa in the Chelonia: it may be termed “ supra-squamosal ” (the bone
between 8 and 27 in fig. 65). The frontal bones (11), divided by a
mid-suture, like the parietals, increase in length, and are continued
far in advance of the orbits. The bone (12) which occupies the
position of the post-frontal in Chelonia is ossified from two centres,
one articulating with the mastoid (8), the other, which is external
to it, with the supra-squamosal. This other bone may be termed the
“ post-orbital,” as proposed by Von Meyer. The post-frontal ex¬
tends forward above the orbit to meet the pre-frontal, separating
the frontal (11) from the orbit, as in the sturgeon (Acipenser), Polyp¬
terus, and Lepidosteus, and also in some Chelones.
The pre-frontal extends far forward, terminating in a point be¬
tween the nasal (15) and lacrymal. The nasals (15), divided by the
median suture, extend to the external nostrils, their prolongation
varying with the species and age of the individual.
Thus far the ossification of the superficies of the skull of Archego¬
saurus closely conforms to that of the salamandroid ganoid fishes above
cited; and the homologous bones are determinable without doubt.
The lacrymal bone obviously answers to the front large subor¬
bital scale-bone in fishes; its large size and forward extension in
Archegosaurus is a mark of that affinity.
The upper jaw consists of pre-maxillary (22), maxillary (21), and
palatine bones. The pre-maxillaries are divided by a median suture,
as in Lepidosteus and Crocodilus, and are short bones, the breadth
exceeding the length in A. latirostris, and also in the young of
A. Decheni ; but in the old animal opposite proportions prevail.
In A. Decheni each pre-maxillary contains eight teeth ; in A. la¬
tirostris not less than eleven. The maxillary (21) which extends
from the pre-maxillary to beneath and beyond the orbit, presents
a great length, varied according to species and age; it is of small
vertical extent, and terminates in a point, which reaches the tym¬
panic. Anteriorly it unites with the pre-maxillary, and enters
into the formation of the back boundary of the nostril; mesially
it unites above with the lacrymal and suborbital, and below forms
the outer boundary of the choanal aperture, joining the vomer an¬
teriorly, and the palatine posteriorly. The palatine is a long nar¬
row bone, rather expanded at both extremities; it forms anteriorly
the hinder border of the choanal aperture, and mesially through¬
out a great part of its extent the outer boundary of the great pala¬
tal vacuity. It supports a row of teeth, of which one or two at the
fore part are of large size.
Between the orbit and the maxillary extends an oblong flat bone
(26), forming the lower or outer border of the orbit, uniting with
the pre-frontal and lacrymal anteriorly, with the maxillary below,
and with the tympanic(9) and another bone behind. In this position,
and in its connections, it agrees with the malar of the crocodile, and
also with the suborbital bone or bones of fishes. The latter are
unequivocally muco-dermal bones, and may not be the homologues
of the endo-skeletal malar bone of saurians, birds, and mammals.
To which of the bones, therefore, suborbital or malar, the one in
question of the Archegosaurus answers, may be doubtful. The
writer inclines to view it as a dermal ossification, and to conclude
that, as in the higher BMrachia, the true malar and the zygomatic
arch are not developed. Admitting the doubt on this point, the
bone (26) maybe termed the “suborbital.”
With regard to the next bone (27), the same question, whether it
answers to the squamosal in the crocodile, or whether it is a der¬
mal ossification, applies.
If a homology with a determinate endo-skeletal bone in the
crocodile and higher vertebrates were to be predicated, it would be
as the “ squamosal.” Essentially it indicates the tendency to ex¬
cessive dermal ossification of the skull, like that which extends into
the superficial temporal fascia from the squamosal and mastoid in
the Chelonia; this separate ossification in Archegosaurus roofs over
the temporal fossa. It appears like a posterior repetition of the
supernumerary surface-bones called post-orbital and paramastoid,
and, like them, corresponds in position with the posterior suborbital
scale-bones in Amia and Lepidosteus.
The hinder angles of the skull are formed by the tympanic; in
1 “ Principal Forms of the Skeleton,” Orr’s Circle of the Sciences, p. 187, fig. 11.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
135
Keptilia. y°uno individuals the tympanic does not extend backward beyond
the par-occipital, but as age advances it projects further backward.
It appears to abut internally against the pterygoid.
The two rami of the mandible were loosely united at a short
symphysis, not exceeding the breadth or depth of the jaw at that
point; the depth gradually augments to near the articular end,
but never exceeds a sixth, and is usually only an eighth of the
length of the jaw, no definite coronoid process being developed;
the upper and lower borders are nearly straight as far as the deep¬
est part. The lower border behind this part rises rather abruptly
to an angle, which is just below the articular pit. The angular
element (30) presents a convexity answering to the point of ossifi¬
cation whence some faint ridges radiate upon its outer surface. The
dentary (32), if it does not form the articular surface, begins very
near it, and each ramus appears to be composed of these two bones.
The dentary develops the coronoid rising. Neither articular nor
splenial element has been clearly demonstrated. If an articular
element has existed, it has been very small.
From fishes the lower jaw of Archegosaurus differs in the great
length or forward extension of the angular piece (30) ; but it re¬
sembles the piscine type in the simplicity of its composition. The
angular piece is, however, longer in the Ganoids,— e.g., Amia, Polyp-
terus, Lepidosteus,—than in other fishes; and in Lepidosiren its pro¬
portions are almost those of the Archegosaurus. It offers similar
proportions to those in Archegosaurus, in the mandible of the
Axolotl and Proteus (fig. 65).
The teeth have the simple conical pointed shape. They are im¬
planted in the premaxillary, maxillary, mandibular, and vomerine
bone, and in a single row in each.
In the short premaxillaries there are from 8 (A. Decheni) to 12
(A. latiroslri); they are rather larger than the maxillary teeth.
These follow in an unbroken series to beneath and beyond the orbit,
and are about 30 in number; but their interspaces are such as
would lodge double that number in the same extent of alveolar
border.
The vomerine teeth are in a single row, parallel with and near to
the maxillary row ; one or two behind the choane are much larger
than the rest, which resemble the maxillary teeth in size. The
mandibular teeth extend backward to the coronoid rising, and de¬
crease in size, the front ones being the largest.
Each tooth is implanted by a simple base in a shallow cup-shaped
socket, with a slightly raised border, to which the circumference of
the tooth becomes anchylosed. The tooth is loosened by absorption
and shed to make way for a successor. These are developed on
the inner, hind, and fore part of the base of the old tooth.
The teeth are usually shed alternately. They consist of osteo-
dentine, dentine, and cement. The first substance occupies the
centre ; the last covers the superficies of the tooth, but is introduced
into its substance by many concentric folds, extending along the
basal half. These folds are indicated by fine longitudinal, straight
strias along that half of the crown. The section of the tooth at
that part (see fig. 65, tooth-section) gives the same structure which
is shown by a like section of a tooth of the Lepidosteus oxyurusA
The same principle of dental composition is exemplified in the
teeth of most of the ganoid fishes of the carboniferous and Devonian
systems, and is carried out to a great and beautiful degree of com¬
plication in the “old red” Dendrodonts.
The repetition of the same principle of dental structure in one
of the earliest genera of Reptilia, associated with the defect of ossi¬
fication of the endo-skeleton and the excess of ossification in the
exo-skeleton of the head and nape, decisively illustrate the true
affinities and low position in the reptilian class of the so-called
Archegosauri.
Resting upon and protected by the throat-plate in the middle
line, there is a longish slender bone, which must belong to the
median series of the hyoid system, either basi- or uro-hyal; it is
most probably homologous with the uro-hyal of Amphiuma and
other Perennibranchiates.
That two pairs of longish slender bones projected outward and
backward from the median series, is shown by more than one spe¬
cimen of Archegosaurus (vol. xii., fig. 10). The anterior pair is the
longest; these are situated as if they had been attached, one to
each side of the broad “ throat-plate,” which may have represented
a basi-hyal. The anterior pair are homologous with the corre¬
sponding longer pair of appendages to the broad basi-hyal of
Amphiuma, and are cerato-hyals. The shorter posterior pair answer
to the branchi-hyals in Amphiuma and other Perennibranchs.
There is no such pair in the hyoidean arch of any known Saurian.
Just external to the ends of the above lateral elements of the
hyoid apparatus feeble traces of arched series of bony nuclei were
detected by Goldfuss, and interpreted by him as remains of par- Reptilia.
tially ossified branchial arches. In this determination the writer ^
agrees with Goldfuss. In all those specimens possessing them they
present the outline of two or three arches in dots, or slightly curved
series of dots or points. In the small relative size of these indica¬
tions of branchial arches, the Archegosaurus agrees with the
Amphiuma.
No doubt, in the fully-grown Archegosaurus, the lungs would be
equal to the performance of the required amount of respiration;
but the retention of such traces of the embryonal water-breathing
system in the adult leads to the inference that the animal must
have affected a watery medium of existence for as great a propor¬
tion of its time as is observed to be the case in the existing peren-
nibranchiate reptiles ; in which, notwithstanding the degree of de¬
velopment of the lungs, the great proportion of the respiratory
functions seems to be performed by the gills.
The additional marks of affinity to fishes which the Archegosaurus
presents in its persistent notochord, its cartilaginous basi-occipital,
its dermal ossifications on the head, and its minute body-scales (fig.
65, scales), remove it further from the saurian reptiles, and ex¬
hibit it more strongly in the light of an osculant form between
the Batrachians and the Ganoids.
Throat-Plates.—The under surface of the body between the head
and trunk, is defended by broad bony plates, three in number. One
is median and symmetrical, of an elongate lozenge shape, with the
angles rounded off; slightly convex externally, a little produced
along the middle of the anterior half into something like a low
^wcm'-keel. The outer surface is sculptured by radiating furrows,
except at so much of the marginal part as is overlapped by the
lateral pieces, and by the scapular arch. The lateral throat-plates
are attached to the anterior half of the sides of the median one, are
shaped like beetles’ elytra, and converge forwards. Their centre
of ossification is towards their outer and hack part, from which the
external ridges and grooves radiate towards the inner border.
Von Meyer2 compares these dermal shields to the ento- and epi-
sternal elements of the plastron of Ohelonia; their truer homology
seems to the writer to be with the median and lateral large
throat-plates or scales of Megalichthys and Sudis gigas. The ento-
sternal element is the only endo-skeletal piece uncombined with a
dermal ossification in most Chelonia. The epi-sternal, like the
hyo- and hypo-sternals, appear to be abdominal ribs, with super-
added dermal ossifications in Chelonia.
The scapulae (51) are instructively exhibited in the very young
specimen of the Archegosaurus figured in t. xiv., fig. 4, of Von
Meyer’s treatise. The coracoids being doubtless wholly cartila¬
ginous at that stage, are not discernible in the specimen referred
to. The upper slender end of the scapula is opposite the side of
the vertebral column, about the fifth neurapophysis from the head,
and it curves gently downward and forward, expanding at its
humeral end.
This expansion is more sudden in the fully-developed animal,
giving the bone the shape of a rudder, and the direction of the
scapula is changed. At least in the specimens (the great majority)
in which the skeleton is seen from above, the slender dorsal end of
the scapula is seen overlying, or near the hinder border of, the
lateral throat-plate, and it extends outward and backward to its
expanded humeral end.
The coracoids (52) are a pair of flat reniform plates, with the
convex border turned forward, the concave one backward; they
seem to have overlapped the smooth margins of the posterior half
of the median throat-plate. It is most probable that, as in Amphi¬
uma, a portion of the broad coracoid remained in the cartilaginous
state, and that the full reniform plate answers to the ossified part
of that coracoid which it resembles in shape and relative position.
The position of the slender scapulae, styliform and rib-like, as in
the Perennibranchiates, is instructively shown in t. xviii., figs. I
and 2, of M. von Meyer’s treatise. The coracoids, as in Amphiuma,
form the chief part of the articular cavity for the humerus.
The perennibranchiate affinities of Archegosaurus are shown as
clearly by the scapular as by the hyoidean arch. The fore-limb
does not exceed half the length of the head. The humerus (53) is
a short thick bone, slightly constricted at the middle, expanded and
rounded at both ends, the proximal one being the largest. For
some time the bone is hollow and open at each end; when ossifica¬
tion finally closes the terminal apertures, it shows that the ends
were connected to the coracoid and to the fore arm by interposed
ligamentous matter,-—not, as in true Saurians, by a synovial joint.
Of the two bones of the fore arm the ulna is a little longer and
larger than the radius (54). Both bones present the simplest pri¬
mitive form, gently constricted in the middle, with the proximal
2 ^ypian’ American Journal of the Natural Sciences, Oct. 1843.
“ Die kehlbrust platten konnte man der unpaarigen Platte und dem ersten Platten-paar im Bauchpanzer der Schildkrbter ver-
gleichen.” {Op. e«., p. 100.)
136 P A L JE 0 N
Re) tilia. ends a little concave, the distal ones a little convex. The space
V- —/ between the antibrachium and the metacarpus plainly bespeaks
the mass of cartilage representing, as in Amphiuma, the carpal
segment (56) in Archegosaurus. No trace of a carpal bone is found
save in the largest and oldest examples, in which five or six small
roundish ossicles are aggregated near the ulnar side of the carpus.
Four digits are present; and considering the pollex to be, as usual,
wanting, the second digit, answering to the medius of pentadactyle
feet, is the largest, and includes at least four phalanges (58); these,
with the metacarpals (57)) are long, slender, terminally expanded,
and truncate. They obviously supported a longish, narrow, pointed
paddle. The outermost or little finger was the shortest, and has
the shortest metacarpal and first phalanx.
It is true that in Mystriosaurus the fore limbs are relatively as
short as in Archegosaurus; and the oolitic crocodile recalls the arrest
of development of the same limbs in the marsupial Potoroos ; but
in Archegosaurus, not only is the small size of the fore limbs, but
also their type of structure, especially that of their scapular arch,
closely in accordance with that in the Perennihranchiata, as shown
in the tridactyle fore limb of the Proteus anguinus, of which a figure
is added to that of the Archegosaurus in fig. 65.
The ilium (62), like the scapula, is expanded at its articular or
femoral end. It is less long and slender ; one border is straight, the
other concave, by the expansion toward that border of the femoral
end. Two shorter bones on each side complete the pelvis below. One
is of a simple form, straight, thicker in proportion to its length than
in the ilium : it may be ischium.
The other bone is shown, with its fellow, in t. xiii., fig. 6, and
xviii., figs. 8 and 9, of Von Meyer’s treatise. That author com¬
pares the pair of bones to the Aptychus in shape ; they may be the
pubic bones. On this hypothesis, they are restored to their true
position at 64 (pubis) in fig. 65. The femur (65) is slightly ex¬
panded, and truncate at both ends; it is not longer than the ilium.
The tibia (66) and fibula are separate bones, like those of the
fore arm ; the margins, which are turned toward each other, are
most concave. They are rather more than half the length of the
femur.
The foot-bones are separated by a fibro-cartilaginous tarsal mass
4 (68) from those of the leg. The form of the phalanges, expanded
and truncate at both ends, bespeaks their simple ligamentous joints,
and that they supported; like the fore limb, a fin or limb adapted
simply for swimming. The argument for the saurian affinities of
Archegosaurus, based by V. Meyer on the short fore-limbs of Mys¬
triosaurus, already invalidated by the difference of structure, is
controverted by the fact, that the hind limbs of Archegosaurus, like
those of the Perennibranchs, are not only as simple in structure,
but also as short, as the fore limbs.
In 1852 Sir Charles Lyell and Mr Dawson, in the course
of their investigations of the coal strata of Nova Scotia,
remarkable for the erect fossil trees in certain parts, dis¬
covered in the hollow of the trunk of one of these trees
{Sigillaria, 2 feet in diameter), which was wholly converted
into coal, some small bones, which Professor Wyman of
Boston surmised to have belonged to a batrachian reptile.
By the professor’s advice they were brought to England
and submitted to the writer, who has described and figured
them1 as batrachian, under the name Dendrerpeton Aca-
dianurn, and with close affinities, from the plicated stiucture
of the teeth, the sculpturing of some broad cranial plates,
and the structure and proportions of certain limb-bones, to
the genus Apateon or Archegosaurus.
Genus Raniceps.—In about the centre of the great car¬
boniferous basin of Ohio, United States, at the mouth of
the 44 yellow creek,” is a seam of coal 8 feet in thickness,
the lower four inches of which is 44 cannel coal. In this
has been found the skull, part of the vertebral column,
scapular arch, and fore limbs of a reptile referred by Pro¬
fessor Wyman2 to the batrachian sub-class, under the name
of Raniceps. Two closely-allied fossils, also referred to
Batrachia, have been found in the same formation and
locality.
Order II.—Labrinthodontia.
f Genus Baphetes, Ow.
Baphetes planiceps.—In January 1854 the writer com-
1 Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, vol. ix., 1853.
T O L O G Y.
municated to the Geological Society of London a description Reptilia.
of part of a fossil cranium of an animal, from the Pictou coal,
Nova Scotia, measuring 7 inches across the orbit. From the
characters then specified, the fossil was determined to be the
fore part of the skull of a sauroid Batrachian of the extinct
family of the Labyrinthodonts. It agreed with them in the
number, size, and disposition of the teeth ; in the propor¬
tions and mode of connection of the premaxillaries, maxil-
laries, nasals, prefrontals and frontals ; and in the resultant
peculiarly broad and depressed character of the skull. The
traces of the nostrils were less definite and satisfactory than
the remains of the orbits ; but the latter were decisive
against a piscine nature. The fossil also presents the same
well-marked external sculpturing as in the Labyrinthodonts ;
and amongst the genera that have been established in that
family, the form of the end of the muzzle, or upper jaw, in
the Pictou coal specimen, best accorded with that in the
Capitosaurus and Metopias of Von Meyer and Burmeister.
But the orbits had been evidently larger and of a diffeient
form than in the reptiles so called ; and, for the convenience
of distinction and reference, the writer proposed to name
the fossil Baphetes planiceps (/Utttw, I dip or dive), in re-
ference to the depth of its position and the shape of its head.
Being thus introduced at the carboniferous period to the
labyrinthodont order, which attained its full development in
the triassic period, we shall proceed to notice the more de¬
cisive evidences and typical illustrations of that extinct order
of Batrachia.
The name of this suh-class is from the Greek word batrachos,
signifying a frog; and it is represented in the present animal-
population of England by a few diminutive species of frogs, toads,
and newts, or water-salamanders. But, at the period of the deposi¬
tion of the new red sandstone, in the present counties of Warwick
and Cheshire, the shores of the ancient sea, which were then formed
by that sandy deposit, were trodden by reptiles having the essential
bony characters of the Batrachia, but combining these with other
bony characters of crocodiles, lizards, and ganoid fishes ; and ex¬
hibiting all under a bulk which, as made manifest by the fossils and
foot-prints, rivalled that of the largest crocodiles of the present
day The form of the largest Labyrinthodonts, if we may judge by
the great breadth and flatness of the skull, must, however, have
more resembled that of the toad or land-salamander.
The Batrachians have no fixed type of external form like the
higher orders of* reptiles, but some, as the broad and flat-bodied
toads and frogs, most resemble the Chelonians, especially the soft-
skinned mud-tortoises {Trionyx)'; other Batrachians, as the CcbcUicb,
resemble Ophidians; a third group, as the newts and salamanders,
represent the Lacertians; and among the perennibranchiate rep-
tiles there are species (Siren) which combine with external gills t e
mutilated condition of the apodal fishes.
Thus it will be perceived that, even if the entire skeleton of one
of the new red sandstone Batrachians had been obtained, there is no
fixed or characteristic general outward form in the batrachian
order whereby its affinity to that group could have been deter¬
mined. The common characters by which the Batrachians, so diver¬
sified in other respects, are naturally associated into one group or
sub-class of reptiles, besides being taken from the condition of the
circulating and generative systems, and other perishable parts, are,
however, fortunately as strongly manifested in modifications of the
skeleton, and principally in the skull. This is joined to the atlas
by the medium of two tubercles, developed exclusively from the ex-
occipitals; the bony palate is formed chiefly by two broad and flat
bones, called “ vomerine” by Cuvier, and generally supporting
teeth. It is only in the Batrachians among reptiles that examples
are found of two or more rows of teeth on the same bone, especially
on the lower jaw (Goeciliae, Sirenes). With regard to vertebral
characters, no such absolute batrachian modifications can be ad¬
duced as those above cited from the anatomy of the cranium. Some
Batrachians, as is well known, have the vertebrae united by ball-and-
socket joints, as in most recent reptiles ; others by biconcave joints,
as in a few recent and most extinct Saurians. Some species have
ribs, others want those appendages; the possession of ribs, there¬
fore, even if longer than those of the Ccecilico, by a fossil reptile
combining all the essential batrachian characters of the skull, would
not be sufficient ground for pronouncing such reptile to be a Saurian.
- American Journal of Science and Arts, March 1857.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
137
Reptilia.
Much less could its saurian nature be pronounced from the circum¬
stance of its possessing large conical striated teeth,—as the ordinary
characters of size, form, number, and even presence or absence of
teeth, varies much in existing Batrachians, the location of teeth on
the vomerine bones being the only dental character in which they
differ from all other orders of reptiles.
The writer’s first acquaintance with the remarkable fossils under
consideration was founded on the examination, in 1840, of portions
of teeth from the new red sandstone of Coton End quarry, Warwick¬
shire. The external characters of these teeth corresponded with
those which had previously been discovered by Professor Jaeger in
the German Keuper formation in Wirtemberg, and on which the ge¬
nus Mastodonsaurus had
been founded (fig. 66;.
The results of a mi¬
croscopic examination of
the teeth of the Masto¬
donsaurus from the Ger¬
man Keuper, and of
those from the new red
sandstone of Warwick¬
shire, have been detailed
in the art. Odontology
(vol. xvi.,p. 412). They
proved that the teeth
from both localities pos¬
sessed in common a very
remarkable and compli¬
cated structure (fig.
67), to the principle
of which,—viz., the con¬
vergence of numerous
inflected folds of the
external layer of cement
towards the pulp cavity,
a very slight approach
was made in the fang of
the tooth of the Ichthyo¬
saurus, and that a closer
approximation to the la-
byrinthic structure in
question was made by
the teeth of several spe¬
cies of fishes, and by
those of Archegosaurus,
while the teeth of exist¬
ing Batrachians were
simple like those of most
Saurians.
Thus, inasmuch as the
extinct animals in ques¬
tion manifested in the
intimate structure of
Fig. 66.
their teeth an affinity to q jne tooth of the Labyrinthodon Jagaeri
fishes- V' T (nat. size),
pected that, if they actu- ^ '
ally belonged to the class of reptiles, the rest of their structure would
manifest the characters of the lowest order,—viz., the Batrackia, the
existing members of which pass, though not by the dental character
alluded to, yet by so many other remarkable degradations of struc¬
ture, towards fishes. Now it has happened that, in the same forma¬
tion in Wirtemberg from which the labyrinthic teeth of the so-called
Mastodonsaurus had been derived, a fragment of the posterior por¬
tion of the skull has been obtained, showing the development of a
separate condyle on each ex-occipital bone; whence Professor Jaeger,
recognising the identity of this structure with the batrachian cha¬
racter above mentioned, founded upon the fossil a new genus of Ba-
trachia which he called “ Salamandraides giganteus.” Subsequent
discoveries, however, satisfied the professor that the bi-condylous
fragment of skull, representing the genus Salamandr aides, belonged
to the same reptile as the teeth on which he had founded the genus
Mastodonsaurus. The following fossils, from the new red sand¬
stone of Warwickshire, gave additional proof of the batrachian
nature of the genus to which those fossils belong, with the esta¬
blishment of five distinct species, one of which is most probably
identical with the Mastodonsaurus salamandro'ides of Professor
Jaeger. In reference to the generic denomination Mastodonsaurus,
it unavoidably recalls the idea of the mammalian genus Mastodon,
or else a mammilloid form of tooth, whereas all the teeth of the
reptile so called are originally, and most of them are permanently,
of a cuspidate and not of a mammilloid form; secondly, because
the second element of the word, saurus, indicates the genus to be¬
long to the saurian and not to the batrachian order of reptiles.
For these reasons, the writer has proposed to designate the genus in
VOL. XVII.
,
Fig- 67.
Transverse section of a tooth of the Labyrinthodon (magn.)
The specimens from British localities are referable to five species,
—viz., 1. Labyrinthodon salamandroides ; 2. L. leptognathus ; 3. L.
pachygnathus ; 4. L. ventricosus ; and 5. L. scutulatus) and we shall
here briefly notice the characters exhibited by the bones assignable
to the second, third, and fifth species.
Labyrinthodon leptognathus.— The remains of this species consist
of fragments of the upper and lower jaws, two vertebrae, and a
sternum. They were found in the new red sandstone quarries at
Coton End, near Warwick.
A dorsal vertebra from Coton End presents further evidence of
the batrachian nature of the Labyrinthodon. It has concave arti¬
cular cavities at the extremities of the body,—a condition now
known among existing reptiles only in the Geckos, and in the
lower or perennibranchiate division of Batrachians. It is a com¬
mon structure in extinct Saurians, but the depth of the vertebral
articular cavities in the Labyrinthodon exceeds that in the amphi-
celian Crocodilians and in most Plesiosaurs. The body of the ver¬
tebra is elongate and sub-compressed, with a smooth but not re¬
gularly curved lateral surface, terminating below in a slightly-pro¬
duced, longitudinal, median ridge; and it exhibits the same excep¬
tional condition in the reptilian class as do the vertebrae of existing
Batrachians, in having the superior arch or neurapophysis anchy-
losed with the centrum. From each side of the base of the neural
arch a thick and strong transverse process extends obliquely out¬
wards and upwards.
A symmetrical bone, resembling the episternum of the Ichthyo¬
saurus was associated with the preceding remains. It consists of a
stem or middle, which gradually thickens to the upper end, where
cross pieces are given off at right angles to the stem, and support
on each a pretty deep and wide groove indicating strongly the
presence of clavicles, and thus pointing out another distinction from
crocodiles, in which clavicles are wanting. Most Batrachians possess
these bones.
The modifications of the jaws, and more especially those of the bony
palate of the Labyrinthodon leptognathus, prove the fossil to have
been essentially Batrachian, but with affinities to the higher Sauria,
leading, in the form of skull and the sculpturing of the cranial
bones, to the crocodilian group, in the collocation of the larger
fangs at the anterior extremities of the jaws to the Plesiosaurus, and
in one part of the dental structure, in the form of the episternum,
and the bi-concave vertebrae, to the Ichthyosaurus. Another marked
peculiarity in this fossil is the anchylosis of the base of the teeth
to distinct and shallow sockets, by which it is made to resemble the
Sphyraena and certain other fishes. From the absence of any trace
of excavation at the inner side of the base of the functional teeth,
or of alveoli of reserve for the successional teeth, it maybe con¬
cluded that the teeth were reproduced, as in the lower Batrachians
and in many fishes, in the soft mucous membrane which covered the
alveolar margin, and that they subsequently became fixed to the
bone by anchylosis, as in the pike and Lophius. This anatomical
fact militates strongly against the idea that the Labyrinthodon is a
Saurian.
S
PALAEONTOLOGY.
138
Reptilia. Labyrinthodon pachygnathus.—The remains of this species, which
y , ^ , y have been obtained, consist of portions of the lower and upper
jaws, an anterior frontal bone, a fractured humerus, an ilium with
a great part of the acetabulum, the head of a femur, and two un¬
gual phalanges. A portion, nine and a half inches long, of aright
ramus of a lower jaw, in addition to the characters common to it
and the fragment of the lower jaw of the L. leptognathus, in the
structure of the angular and dentary pieces, shows that the outer
wall of the alveolar process is not higher than the inner, as in frogs
and toads, the salamanders and menopome, in all of which the base
of the teeth is anchylosed to the inner side of an external alveolar
plate. The smaller serial teeth are about forty in number, and
gradually diminish in size as they approach both ends, but chiefly
so towards the anterior part of the jaw. The sockets are close
together, and the alternate ones are empty. The great laniary teeth
were apparently three in each symphysis, and the length of the
largest is considered to have been one and a half inch. The base
of each tooth is anchylosed to the bottom of its socket, as in scom-
beroid and sauroid fishes ; but the Labyrinthodon possesses a still
more ichthyic character in the continuation, preserved in this speci¬
men, of a row of small teeth anterior and external to the two or
three larger tusks. The premaxillary hone presents the same
peculiar modification as in the higher organized Batrachia, the
palatal process of the premaxillary extending beyond the outer
plate both externally and, though in a less degree, internally, where
it forms part of the boundary of the anterior palatal foramen,
whence the outer plate rises in the form of a compressed process
from a longitudinal tract in the upper part of the palatal process ;
it is here broken off near its margin, and the fractured surface
gives the breadth of the base of the outer plate, stamping the fossil
with a Batrachian character conspicuous above all the saurian
modifications by which the essential nature of the fossil appears at
first sight to be masked.
In the pre-frontal bone there are indications of crocodilian struc¬
ture. Its superior surface is slightly convex and pitted with ir¬
regular impressions ; and from its posterior and outer part it sends
downwards a broad and slightly concave process, which appears to
be the anterior boundary of the orbit. This process presents near
its upper margin a deep pit, from which a groove is continued for¬
wards; and in the corresponding orbital plate of the crocodile there
is a similar but smaller foramen.
From these remains of the cranium of the L. pachygnathus, it
is evident that the facial or maxillary part of the skull was formed
in the main after the crocodilian type, but with well-marked ba¬
trachian modifications in the premaxillary and inferior maxillary
bones. The most important fact which they show is, that this sau¬
roid Batrachian had subterminal nostrils, leading to a wide and
shallow nasal cavity, separated by a broad and almost continuous
palatal flooring from the cavity of the mouth ; indicating, with
their horizontal position, that their posterior apertures were placed
far behind the anterior or external nostrils: whereas in the air-
breathing Batrachia the nasal meatus is short and vertical, and the
internal apertures pierce the anterior part of the palate. It may
he inferred, therefore, that the apparatus for breathing by inspira¬
tion must have been present in the Labyrinthodon as in the croco¬
dile ; and hence still further, that the skeleton of the Labyrinthodon
will he found to be provided with well-developed costal ribs, and
not, as in most of the existing Batrachians, with merely rudiment¬
ary styles. Since the essential condition of this defective state of
the ribs of Batrachians is well known to he their fish-like mode of
generation and necessary distension of the abdomen, it is probable
that the generative economy of these fossil reptiles, in which the
more complete ribs would prevent the excessive enlargement of
the ovaria and oviducts, may have been similar to that of saurian
reptiles.
A fragment of a vertebra of L. pachygnathus presents analo¬
gous characters to the vertebra of the L. leptognathus previously
noticed.
Of the few bones of the extremities which have come under the
writer’s inspection, one presents all the characteristics of the cor¬
responding part of the humerus of a toad or frog, viz., the convex,
somewhat transversely extended articular end, the internal longitu¬
dinal depression, and the well-developed deltoid ridge. The length
of the fragment is two inches, and the breadth is thirteen lines.
The ridges are moderately thick and compact, with a central medul¬
lary cavity. In its structure, as well as in its general form, the
present bone agrees with the batrachian, and differs from the cro¬
codilian type.
In the right ilium, about 6 inches in length, and in the aceta¬
bulum, there is a combination of crocodilian and batrachian cha¬
racters. The acetabular cavity is bounded on its upper part by a
produced and sharp ridge, as in the frog, and not emarginate at its
anterior part, as in the crocodile.
As the fragment of the ilium was discovered in the same block
as the two fragments of the cranium and the portion of the lower Reptilia.
jaws, it is probable that they may have belonged to the same ani-
mal; and if so, as the portions of the head correspond in size with
those of the head of a crocodile six or seven feet in length, but the
acetabular cavity with that of a crocodile 25 feet in length, then
the hinder extremities of the Labyrinthodon must have been of dis¬
proportionate magnitude compared with those of existing Saurians,
but of approximate magnitude with some of the living anourous
Batrachians. That such a reptile, of a size equal to that of the
species whose remains have just been described, existed at the period
of the formation of the new red sandstone, is abundantly mani¬
fested by the remains of those singular impressions to which the
term Cheirotherium has been applied. Other impressions, as those
of the Cheirotherium Hercules, correspond in size with the remains
of the Labyrinthodon salamandraides, which have been discovered
at Guy’s Cliff. The head of a femur from the same quarry in which
the ilium was found is shown to correspond in size with the arti¬
cular cavity of the acetabulum. The two toe-bones, or terminal
phalanges, resemble those of Batrachians in presenting no trace of
a nail, and from their size they may be referred to the hind feet of
the L. pachygnathus.
An entire skull of the largest species discovered in the new red
sandstones of Wurtemberg ; a lower jaw of the same species found
in the same formation in Warwickshire ; some vertebras, and a few
fragments of bones of the limbs, have served, with the indications
of size and shape of the trunk of the animal yielded by the series
of consecutive foot-prints, as the basis of the restoration of the
Labyrinthodon salamandraides, at the Crystal Palace. It is to
be understood, however, that, with the exception of the head, the
form of the animal is necessarily more or less conjectural.
Labyrinthodon scutulatus.—The remains to which this specific
designation has been applied compose a closely and irregularly
aggregated group of bones imbedded in sandstone, and manifestly
belonging to the same skeleton; they consist of four vertebrae,
portions of ribs, a huments, a femur, two tibiae, one end of a large
flat bone, and several small osseous dermal scutae. The mass was
discovered in the new red sandstone at Leamington, and was trans¬
mitted to the writer in the summer of 1840.
The vertebrae present bi-concave articular surfaces similar to
those of the other species. In two of them the surfaces slope in a
parallel direction obliquely from the axis of the vertebrae, as in the
dorsal vertebrae of the frog, indicating a habitual inflexion of the
spine, analogous to that in the humped back of the frog. The
neurapophyses are anchylosed to the vertebral body. The spinous
process rises from the whole length of the middle line of the neur-
apophysial arch, and its chief peculiarity is the expansion of its
elongated summit into a horizontally-flattened plate, sculptured
irregularly on the upper surface. A similar flattening of the sum¬
mit of the elongated spine is exhibited in the large atlas of the toad.
The body of the vertebra agrees with that of the L. leptognathus.
The humerus is an inch long, regularly convex at the proximal ex¬
tremity, and expanded at both extremities, but contracted in the
middle. A portion of a somewhat shorter and flatter bone is bent
at a subacute angle with the distal extremity, and resembles most
nearly the anchylosed radius and ulna of the Batrachia.
The femur wants both the extremities; its shaft is subtrihedral
and slightly bent, and its walls are thin and compact, including a
large medullary cavity. The tibiae are as long, but thicker and
stronger than the femur. They had lost their articular extremi¬
ties, but exhibited that remarkable compression of their distal por¬
tion which characterizes the corresponding bone in the Batrachia ;
they likewise have the longitudinal impression along the middle
of the flattened surface. Were more of the skeleton of the above-
defined species of Labyrinthodon known, they might present differ¬
ences of subgeneric value. Such differences in the forms and pro¬
portions of the skull, and in the form and relative position of the
orbits, of specimens that have been discovered subsequently in the
triassic sandstones of Germany, have been so interpreted.
In the Labyrinthodon (Mastodonsaurus) Jaegeri—the largest of
the species—the skull is triangular, the two condyles projecting
from the middle of the base; the sides are straight, and converge
to the obtuse apex. The orbits are oval, narrow est anteriorly, and
are situated nearly midway between the fore and back part of the
skull. The nostrils are very small, and are as wide apart as the
orbits.
Labyrinthodon (Trematosaurus') Braunii, Von Meyer.—The name
Trematosaurus was given by Braun to a labyrinthodont reptile, in
reference to the parietal foramen, at that time deemed to be pecu¬
liar to it, but now known to be common to all the family. The
genus was founded on an unusually perfect skull discovered in the
richly fossiliferous bunter-sandstein of Bernburg. It is about one
foot long, and, relatively to its basal breadth, it is longer and nar¬
rower than in L. Jagaeri, the sides converging at a more acute angle.
The orbits are elliptical, situated in the middle of the skull, and
P A L iE 0 N
Reptilla. wider ajiart than in L. Jagaeri ; the nostrils are relatively nearer
> ^ j together, their interspace being only half that in the L. Jagaeri.
Labyrinthodon (Metopius1) diagnosticus, H. von M.—In this species
the skull is broader in proportion to its length than in the fore¬
going ;the sides are convex as they converge to the obtuse muzzle.
The orbits are small, of a wide elliptical form, situated in the
anterior third of the skull; they are twice as wide apart as are
the nostrils. The parietal foramen is near the occipital ridge. The
remains of this species are from the upper beds of the keuper
standstone in Wirtemberg.
The Labyrinthodon (Capitosaurus) arenaceus, Munster, is distin¬
guished by a much broader and almost truncate muzzle. The orbits
are elliptic, and situated almost wholly in the hinder third of the
cranium ; their interspace is the same-as that between the nostrils,
which are relatively as large as in L. Braunii.
The name Zygosaurus appears to have been applied with better
grounds, by Eichwald, to a labyrinthodont reptile from the Per¬
mian cupriferous beds at Orenburg. It has the parabolic skull of
L. Jagaeri and L. diagnosticus; the orbits large, and divided by an
interval less than their own diameter. The temporal fossae are
relatively larger, and bounded by stronger zygomatic arches, and
seem not to have been roofed over by bone. The dentition is
strictly labyrinthodont.
Odontosaurus Voltzii is a genus and species founded by Von Meyer
on a portion of a lower jaw, containing fifty teeth lodged in rather
a deep groove, but apparently presenting the labyrinthic structure.
The specimen is from the hunter sandstone of Soultz-les-Bains.
Xestorrhytias Perrini.—By this name M. von Meyer would indicate
certain flat cranial bones, sculptured like those of Labyrinthodon,
but with a peculiarly polished ganoid-like surface, from the muschel-
kalk of Luneville.
In all the foregoing forms of Labyrinthodonts, repre¬
sented by complete crania, with the exception perhaps of
Zygosaurus, the supplemental osseous plates roofing over
the temporal fossae are present, as in Archegosaurus, viz.,
the “post-orbital” and the “ super-squamosal” bones. In
all of them the occipital condyles are distinct, forming a
pair; and in all the vomer is divided and bears teeth. The
structure and disposition of the entire dental system is
strictly labyrinthodont.
The relation of these remarkable reptiles to the saurian
order has been advocated to be one of close and true affi¬
nity, chiefly on the character of the extent of ossification of
the skull, and of the outward sculpturing of the cranial bones.
But the true nature of some of these bones appears to have
been overlooked, and the glance of research for analogous
structures has been too exclusively upward. If directed
downward from the Labyrinthodonts to the Archegosauri
and certain ganoid fishes, it suggests other conclusions.
The conformity of pattern in the dermal, semidermal, or
neurodermal bones of the outwardly well-ossified skull of
Polypterus, Lepidosteus, Sturio, and other salamandroid-
ganoid fishes, with well-developed lung-like air-bladders,
and of the same skull-bones in the Archegosaurus and the
Labyrinthodonts; the persistence of the notochord {chorda
dorsalis) in Archegosaurus, as in Sturio ; the persistence
of the notochord and branchial arches in Archegosaurus,
as in Lepidosiren ; the absence of occipital condyle or con¬
dyles in Archegosaurus, as in Lepidosiren; the presence
of labyrinthic teeth in Archegosaurus, as in Lepidosteus
and Labyrinthodon ; the large median and lateral throat-
plates in Archegosaurus, as in Megalichthys, and in the
modern Arapaima and Lepidosleus;—all these characters
point to one great natural group, peculiar for the extensive
gradations of development, linking and blending together
fishes and reptiles within the limits of such group. The
salamandroid (or so-called “sauroid”) Ganoids—Lepidos¬
teus Polypterus—are the most piscine, the true Laby¬
rinthodonts are the most reptilian, of the group. The
Lepidosiren anti Archegosaurus are intermediate gradations,
one having more of the piscine, the other more of the rep¬
tilian characters. The Archegosaurus conducts the march
of development from the fish proper to the labyrinthodont
T O L O G Y. 139
type ; the Lepidosiren conducts it to the perennibranchiate Reptilia.
batrachian type. Both illustrate the artificiality of the sup-
posed class distinction between fishes and reptiles, and the
naturality of the “ Haemacrymes,” or cold-blooded Verte-
brata, as the one natural and truly definite group. There
is nothing in the known structure of the so-named
saurus or Mastodonsaurus that truly indicates a belonging
to the saurian or crocodilian order of reptiles. The ex¬
terior ossifications of the skull and the canine-shaped laby¬
rinthic teeth are both examples of the salamandroid modi¬
fication of the ganoid type of fishes.
The small proportion of the fore limb of the Mystrio-
saurus in nowise illustrates this alleged saurian affinity; for
though it be as short as in Archegosaurus, it is as perfectly
constructed as in the crocodile, whereas the short fore limb
of Archegosaurus is constructed after the simple type of
that of the Proteus Siren. But the futility of this argu¬
ment of the sauroid affinities is made manifest by the pro¬
portions of the hind limb o\: Archegosaurus. As in Proteus
and Amphiuma, it is as stunted as the fore limb; whereas
in Mystriosaurus, as in other Teleosaurians, the hind limbs
are relatively larger and stronger than in the existing cro¬
codiles. M. von Meyer leaves the hind limb out of sight in
his advocacy of the saurian nature of the so-called Arche¬
gosaurus. One regrets that Von Meyer’s original name
Apateon, though proposed to express his scepticism of the
alleged nature of the fossil submitted to him in 1844 by Dr
Gergens, was not retained by Professor Goldfuss. It is
still more to be regretted that a compound name should
in any case be adopted or constructed, where the proof of
the affinity it may be meant to indicate is not perfect.
Archegosaurus, like Mastodonsaurus, will become at length
mere arbitrary terms ; but until then, they wall really recall
or express little more than the mistaken views of the in¬
ventors of those names in respect of the true affinities of
the remarkable extinct piscine reptiles to which they have
been applied.
Fig. 68 gives a reduced view of a portion of new red
sandstone, with three pairs of foot-prints in relief.
Consecutive impressions of such prints have been traced
for many steps in succession in quarries of that formation
in Warwickshire, Cheshire, and also in Lancashire, more
especially at a quarry of a whitish quartzose sandstone at
Storton Hill, a few miles from Liverpool. The foot-marks
are partly concave and partly in relief; the former are seen
upon the upper surface of the sandstone slabs, but those in
relief are only upon the lower surfaces, being in fact natural
casts, formed on the subjacent foot-prints as in moulds.
The impressions of the hind foot are generally 8 inches
in length and 5 inches in width; near each large footstep,
and at a regular distance—about an inch and a half—be¬
fore it, a smaller print of the fore foot, 4 inches long and
3 inches wide, occurs. The footsteps follow each other
in pairs, each pair in the same line, at intervals of about
14 inches from pair to pair. The large as well as the
small steps show the thumb-like toe alternately on the right
and left side, each step making a print of five toes.
Foot-prints of corresponding form, but of smaller size,
have been discovered in the quarry at Storton Hill, im¬
printed on five thin beds of clay, lying one upon another
in the same quarry, and separated by beds of sandstone.
From the lower surface of the sandstone layers the solid
casts of each impression project in high relief, and afford
models of the feet, toes, and claws of the animals which
trod on the clay.
Similar foot-prints were first observed in Saxony, at the
village of Hessburg, near Hillburghausen, in several quarries
of a gray quartzose sandstone, alternating with beds of red
sandstone, and of the same geological age as the sandstones
1 This generic term has been applied to another fossil by Eichwald.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
140
Reptilia. of England that had been trodden by the same strange
animal. The German geo¬
logist who first described
them proposed the name
of Cheivotherium {cheir, the
hand, therion, beast) for
the great unknown animal
that had left the foot-prints,
in consequence of the re¬
semblance, both of the fore
and hind feet, to the impres¬
sion of a human hand ; and
Dr Kaup conjectured that
the animal might be a large
species of the opossum
kind. The discovery, how¬
ever, of fossil skulls, jaws,
teeth, and a few other bones,
in the sandstones exhibiting
the foot-prints in question,
has rendered it more pro¬
bable that both the foot¬
prints and the fossils are
evidences of the same kind
of huge extinct batrachian
reptiles.
All the labyrinthodont
remains from the Warwick
and Leamington sandstones
agree in their essentially
batrachian nature with those
from the German keuper,
and other new red or tri-
assic strata. The impres¬
sions of the Cheir other ium
resemble those of the foot¬
prints of a Batrachian ; but
are not identical with those
of any known Batrachian
or other reptile. They show
a papillose integument like
that on the sole of certain
Geckos, and which may be
another mark of sauroid de¬
parture from the modern
batrachian type. In the
attempt to solve the diffi¬
cult problem of the nature
of the animal which has im¬
pressed the new red sand¬
stone with the cheirothe-
rian foot-prints, we cannot
overlook the fact, that we
have in the Lahyrinthodons
also batrachian reptiles, dif¬
fering as remarkably from
all known Batraehia, and
from all other reptiles in Fig. 68.
the structure of their teeth ; Foot-prints of Labyrinthodon
both the footsteps and the (Cheirotherium).
fossils are, moreover, pecu¬
liar to the new red sandstone ; the different size of the
foot-prints referred to different species of Cheirotheria cor¬
respond with the different §ize of ascertained species of
Labyrinthodon; and the present facts best support the
hypothesis, that the foot-prints called “ cheirotherian,” are
those of labyrinthodont reptiles.
Sub-class 2.—SAURIA. Reptilia.
Order I.—Thecodontia.
Genus Protorosaurus, Von Meyer.
Sp. Protorosaurus Speneri, Von M.— The first fossil Sau¬
rian on record is that which records the circumstance by its
generic name, and honours its describer by the specific one.
The slab of “copper-slate” from the Permian beds of
Eisenach in Thuringia, displaying, either in fossils or im¬
pressions, the skull, vertebral column, and bones of the
fore foot of the reptile in question, was figured and described
by Spener, a physician at Berlin, in 1710.1 * The ori¬
ginal specimen is now in the museum of the Royal Col¬
lege of Surgeons, London. It was obtained from a copper-
mine near Eisenach, at a depth of 100 feet from the
surface.
A second specimen, showing the two fore limbs, a hind
limb, and part of the trunk, was described by Link in 1718.J
Cuvier gives copies of portions of two other specimens in
his Ossemens Fossiles.3
The healthy, honest mind of Spener is shown by the
conclusions which he formed from the state of preservation
of his specimen—“omnia, enim, minutissima etiam apo¬
physes, spinse,” &c.,—and from its association with equally
well-preserved remains of fishes, and even of the delicate
leaves of plants, against the notions of those fossils merely
simulating, and never having been, the living organisms
which they represented—notions which were then advo¬
cated under the sounding phrase of “ plastic force,” as they
have lately been under that of “ prochronism.” Spener’s
only doubt was, whether the reptile had been a crocodile or
a lizard ; but he inclined to the former view, on account of
the proportions of the head to the trunk. He then enters
upon speculations as to how a crocodile could have come
into Germany; and shows the usual effect of a mind biassed
by a hypothetical diluvial catastrophe, not demonstrated by
observation and inductive research, and to the extent of
such bias benumbed in the exercise of the faculty for the
acquisition of natural truth.
The seven cervical vertebrae are proportionally larger than
in any known recent or fossil terrestrial or aquatic Saurian ;
they resemble in this respect the cervical vertebrae of
Pterodactyles ; the tail is long, and its vertebrae differ from
those of all other known reptiles, recent or fossil, in having
the spinous processes bifurcate, diverging in the direction
of the axis of the body.4
The muscular power of the neck is indicated by traces of
bone tendons. The dorsal vertebrae exceed eighteen in
number, and have higher spines than in the modern Moni¬
tors ; the dorsal ribs are long, and longitudinally impressed.
The hind limb is much longer than the fore limb, and the
leg is longer, in proportion to the thigh and foot, than in the
Monitors. The teeth are sharp-pointed, slender ; there ap¬
pear to be at least twenty in both upper and lower jaws in
Spener’s specimen.
The writer concludes, from the length and strength of
the tail and the peculiar provision for muscular attachments
in that part, and from the proportions of the hind limbs,
that the Protorosaurus was of aquatic habits, and that the
strength of its neck and head, and the sharpness of its teeth,
enabled it to seize and overcome the struggles of the active
fishes of the waters which deposited the old Thuringian
copper-slates.
Genus Thecodontosaurus.
Sp. Thecodontosaurus antiquus.—In 1836 certain reptilian
remains from the “ dolomitic conglomerate” at Redland,
near Bristol, were described by Messrs Riley and Stutch-
i Miscellanea Berolinensia, 4to, i., p. 99, figs. 24 and 25. 2 Acta Eruditorum, 1718, p. 188, pi. ii.
3 Ed. 8vo, 1836, pi. ccxxxvii., figs. 1 and 2. 55 m * • a
4 A character first pointed out in the writer’s “ Report on British Fossil Reptiles, Trans, of Brit. Assoc., 1841, p. 155.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Reptilia. bury.1 The matrix has been referred to the Permian period ;
^   it is now thought by some good observers to be not older
than the triassic.
The teeth in these reptilian fossils are lodged in distinct sockets
in Thecodontosaurus ; they are arranged in a close-set series, slightly
decreasing in size towards the posterior part of the jaw ; each ramus
of the lower jaw contained twenty-one teeth. These are conical,
rather slender, compressed and acutely pointed, with an anterior
and posterior tinely-serrated edge, the serratures being directed
towards the apex of the tooth, the outer surface is more convex
than the inner one ; the apex is slightly recurved ; the base of the
crown contracts a little to form the fang, which is subcylindrical.
Genus Pal.eosaukus, Riley and Stutchbury.—In the same forma¬
tion as contained the jaw and teeth of the Thecodontosaurus two other
teeth were separately discovered, differing from the preceding and
from each other ; the crown of one of these teeth measuring 9 lines
in length and 5 lines in breadth. It is compressed, pointed with
opposite trenchant and serrated margins, but its breadth as com¬
pared with its length is so much greater than in the Thecodonto-
saurus, that upon it has been founded the genus Palasosaurus, and
it is distinguished by the specific name of platyodon, from the se¬
cond tooth, which is referred to the same genus under the name of
Palasosaurus cylindrodon. The portion of the tooth of the Palceosaurus
cylindrodon which has been preserved shows that the crown is
subcompressed and traversed by two opposite finely-serrated
ridges, as in the Thecodontosaurus ; its length is 5 lines, its breadth
at the base 2 lines.
The vertebrae associated with the two kinds of teeth above de¬
scribed are biconcave, with the middle of the body more con¬
stricted, and terminal articular cavities rather deeper than in
Teleosaurus; but they are chiefly remarkable for the depth of the
spinal canal at the middle of each vertebra, where it sinks into the
substance of the centrum ; thus the canal is wider, vertically, at the
middle than at the two ends of the vertebra : an analogous struc¬
ture, but less marked, obtains in the dorsal vertebrae of the Rhyn-
chosaurus from the new red sandstone of Shropshire.
Besides deviating from existing lizards in the thecodont denti¬
tion and biconcave vertebrae, the Saurians of the dolomitic conglo¬
merate also differ in having some of their ribs articulated by a
head and tubercle to two surfaces of the vertebra, as at the anterior
part of the chest in crocodiles and Dinosaurs. The shaft of the rib
was traversed, as in the Protorosaur and Rhynchosaur, by a deep
longitudinal groove. Some fragmentary bones indicate obscurely
that the pectoral arch deviated from the crocodilian, and approached
the lacertian or enaliosaurian type, in the presence of a clavicle
and in the breadth and complicated form of the coracoid. The
humerus appears to have been little more than half the length of
the femur, and to have been, like that of the Rhynchosaurus, un¬
usually expanded at the two extremities. The femur is chiefly re¬
markable for a third process or trochanter, just above the middle
of the shaft, which shows a medullary cavity. The distal condyles
are flattened, the outer one being the larger ; there is a deep de¬
pression between them posteriorly, and a very light one anteriorly.
The tibia, fibula, and metatarsal bones manifest, like the femur,
the fitness of the Saurians for progression on land. The ungual
phalanges are sub-compressed, curved downwards, pointed, and
impressed on each side with the usual curved canal.
The general conclusions which may be drawn from the know¬
ledge at present possessed of the osteology of the Thecodontosaurus
and Palceosaurus are, in their thecodont type of dentition, bicon¬
cave vertebrae, double-jointed ribs, and proportionate size of the
bones of the extremities, they are allied to the Teleosaurus ; but that
they combine a dinosaurian femur, a lacertian form of tooth, and
structure of the pectoral and probably pelvic arch with these croco¬
dilian characters, having distinctive modifications, as the monili-
form spinal canal, in which, however, the almost contemporary
Rhynchosaur participates. It would be interesting to ascertain
whether the caudal vertebra? are characterized, as in the Thurin-
gian Protorosaur, by double diverging spinous processes.
Genus Belodon, Yon Meyer.
Sp. Belodon PUeningeri.—The reptile from the upper
white keuper sandstone of Wirtemberg, described by Plien-
inger,2 agrees in its essential characters so closely with the
141
thecodont Saurians of the Bristol conglomerate as to add Reptilia.
to the probability of both belonging to the same lower v*—
mezozoic period.
Three vertebrae are modified to afford adequate attach¬
ment to the iliac bones in Belodon, and this additional evi¬
dence of affinity to Dmosauria may have characterized also
the English Thecodonts.
Genus Cladyodon, Ow.
Sp. Cladgodon Lloydii.—In the Memoir on the Triassic
Red Sandstones of Warwick, by Murchison and Strickland,
published in 1840, in the 2d series of the Geological
Transactions, vol. v., a tooth, which is an extremely rare
fossil in those English formations, was figured in pi. xxviii.,
fig- 6-
Having had the opportunity of studying the original spe¬
cimen and fragments of some others of seemingly the same
species from the new red sandstones of Warwick and Leam¬
ington, the writer recognised the affinity of the reptile with
those teeth to the thecodont reptiles of the Bristol conglo¬
merate, and indicated what appeared a generic modification
of form by the term Cladyodon?
The writer has subsequently received other specimens of the
teeth characterizing this genus, which may be described as being
two-edged, sub-compressed ; the sides more or less convex; the
edges more or less sharp, and frequently finely serrate; the crown
slightly bent sideways, the inner side towards the mouth-cavity.
The teeth are sometimes lancet-shaped, through convergence of the
edges towards point; sometimes through one edge being convex and
the other concave, the crown is slightly curved or sickle-shaped;
sometimes through use, the point is blunted. The enamel is very
thin, smooth, showing under the lens a slight longitudinal striation,
forming wrinkles. The dentine is disposed in concentric layers;
is not labyrinthic: the base of tooth shows a conical pulp-cavity.
These teeth indicate a Saurian about 12 feet in length.
The writer cannot discern any generic, or even good specific dis¬
tinctions, between the teeth from the Warwickshire keuper, on
which in 1840 he founded the genus Cladyodon, and those from
the Wirtemberg keuper, on which M. von Meyer in 1844 founded
the genus Belodon, Both are nearly allied to Palceosaurus.
Genus Bathygnathus, Leidy.
Sp. Bathygnathus borealis, Leidy.—Allied to the Cla¬
dyodon and Belodon by the shape of the teeth is the Sau¬
rian from the new red sandstone of Prince Edward’s Island,
North America, the generic and specific characters of which
have been deduced by Dr Leidy 4 from a portion of lower
jaw, containing seven teeth, but with interspaces from which
others have been lost. The depth of the dentary bone is
5 inches; a peculiarity which suggested the generic name
(bathus, deep, gnathos, jaw). The precise mode of im¬
plantation of the teeth is not described.
The fossil was discovered at a depth of 21 feet from the
surface, in a red sandstone supposed to be of the same age
as that of Connecticut, so remarkable for the various and
singular foot-marks, referable, some to reptiles, and others
to large birds.
Order II.—Cryptodontia.
Genus Rhynchosacrus, Ow.
Sp. Rhynchosaurus articeps, Ow.5—The fossils in which
the above order, genus, and species of reptile have been
based are from the new red sandstone (trias) of Shrop¬
shire. They occur at the Grinsill quarries, near Shrews¬
bury, in a fine-grained sandstone, and also in a coarse burr-
sandstone ; in the latter the writer found imbedded some
vertebrae, portions of the lower jaw, a nearly entire skull,
4 Geological Transactions, 2d series, vol. v., p. 344.
2 Wiirtemb. naturf. Jahreshefte, viii., Jahro-. 1857, p. 389. Jaeger’s Phytosaurus appears to have been founded on casts of the sockets
of the teeth of Belodon.
3 Reports of the British Association, “ Brit. Fossil Reptiles,” 1841, p. 155. (See fuller descriptions, with figures, in Odontography,
pi. 62, A, fig. 4, a, b.)
^ Journal of the Academy of Sciences, Philadelphia, vol. ii., p. 327, pi. xxxiii.
Transactions of the Cambridge Philosophical Society, vol. vii., part iii., 1842, p. 355, pi. 5 and 6.
142
P A L iE O N T 0 L O G Y.
Reptilia. fragments of the pelvis and of two femora: in the fine-
grained sandstone, vertebrae, ribs, and some bones of the
scapular and pelvic arches are imbedded. The bones pre¬
sent a very brittle and compact texture ; the exposed sur¬
face is usually smooth, or very finely striated, and of a light
blue colour. The sandstones containing these bones occa¬
sionally exhibit impressions of footsteps which resemble
those figured in the Memoir by Messrs Murchison and
Strickland (Geol. Trans., 2d series, vol. v., pi. xxviii. fig. 1),
but dilfer in the more distinct marks of the claws, the less
distinct impression of a web, the more diminutive size of
the innermost toe, and an impression corresponding with
the hinder part of the foot, which reminds one of a hind
toe pointing backwards, and which, like the hind toe of
some birds, only touched the ground with its point. The
foot-prints are likewise more equal in size, and likewise in
their intervals, than those figured by Messrs Murchison and
Strickland : they measure from the extremity of the outer¬
most or fifth toe to that of the innermost or first rudimental
toe, about one inch and a half. They are the only foot¬
prints that have as yet been detected in the new red sand¬
stone quarries at Grinsill. As the fossil bones have always
been found nearly in the same bed as that impressed by the
footsteps above described, they probably belong to the same
animal.
Vertebra}.—Both articular surfaces of the centrum are concave,
and are deeper than in the biconcave vertebrae of the extinct
Crocodilians ; the texture of the centrum is compact throughout.
The neural arch is anchylosed with the centrum, without trace
of suture, as in most lizards : it immediately expands and sends
outwards from each angle of its base a broad triangular process
with a flat articular surface ; the two anterior sufaces look directly
upwards, the posterior ones downwards; the latter are continued
backwards beyond the posterior extremity of the centrum; the
tubercle for the simple articulation of the rib is situated imme¬
diately beneath the anterior oblique process. So far the vertebrae
of the Rhynchosaurus, always excepting their biconcave structure,
resemble the vertebrae of most recent lizards. In the modification
next to be noticed, they show one of the vertebral characters of the
Dinosauria. A broad obtuse ridge rises from the upper convex
surface of the posterior articular process and arches forwards along
the neural arch above the anterior articular process, and gradually
subsides anterior to its base : the upper part of this arched angular
ridge forms, with that of the opposite side, a platform, from the
middle line of which the spinous process is developed. Nothing of
this kind is present in existing lizards ; the sides of the neural arch
immediately converge from the articular processes to the base of
the spine, -without the intervention of an angular ridge formed by
the sides of a raised platform. The base of the spinous process is
broadest behind, and commences there by two roots or ridges, one
from the upper and back part of each posterior articular process.
The anterior margin of the spinous process is thin and trenchant;
the height of the spine does not exceed the antero-posterior diame¬
ter of its base ; it is obliquely rounded otf. The spinal canal sinks
into the middle part of the centrum and rises to the base of the
spine, so that its vertical diameter is twice as great at the middle
as at the two extremities : this modification resembles in a certain
degree that of the vertebrae of the Palwosaurus from the Bristol
conglomerate.
The skull presents the form of a four-sided pyramid, compressed
laterally, and with the upper facet arching down in a graceful
curve to the apex, which is formed by the termination of the
muzzle. The very narrow cranium, wide temporal fossae on each
side, bounded posteriorly by the parietal and the mastoid bones,
and laterally by strong compressed zygomata; the long tympanic
pedicle, descending freely and vertically from the point of union
of the posterior transverse and zygomatic arches, and terminating
in a convex pulley for the articular concavity of the lower jaw;
the large and complete orbits, and the short, compressed, and bent
down maxillae, all combine to prove the fossil to belong to the
lacertian division of the saurian order. The mode of articulation
of the skull with the spine cannot be determined in the present
specimen, but the lateral compression and the depth of the skull,
the great vertical breadth of the superior maxillary bone, the small
relative size of the temporal spaces, the vertical breadth of the
low'er jaw, prove that it does not belong to a reptile of the batra-
chian order. The shortness of the muzzle, and its compressed form,
equally remove it from the Orocodilians. No Chelonian has the
tympanic pedicle so long, so narrow, or so freely suspended to the
posterior and lateral angles of the cranium.
The general aspect of the skull differs, however, from that of ex¬
isting Lacertians, and resembles that of a bird or turtle, which
resemblance is increased by the apparent absence of teeth. The
pre-maxillary bones, moreover, are double, as in crocodiles and
Chelonians, but, with this exception, all the essential characters of
the structure of the skull are those of the lizard.
The rami of the lower jaw are remarkable, as in Bathygnathus, for
their great depth, but not the least trace of a tooth is discernible in
the alveolar border of the dentary element.
The cranium has been preserved with the mouth in the naturally
closed state, and the upper and lower jaws in close contact. In
this state we must suppose that they were originally buried in the
sandy matrix which afterwards hardened around them ; and since
lizards, owing to the unlimited reproduction of their teeth, do not
become edentulous by age, we must conclude that the state in which
the Rhynchosaurus was buried, with its lower jaw in undisturbed
articulation with the head, accorded with its natural condition,
while living, so far as the less perishable hard parts of its masti¬
catory organs were concerned. Nevertheless, since a view of the
inner side of the alveolar border of the jaws has not been obtained,
we cannot be quite assured of the actual edentulous character of
this very singular Saurian. The indications of a dental system are
much more obscure in the Rhynchosaurus than in any existing Lacer¬
tian ; the dentations of the upper jaw are absolutely feebler than in
the chameleon, and no trace of them can be detected in the lower
jaw, where they are strongest in the chameleon. The absence of
the coronoid process in the Rhynchosaurus^v/bich is conspicuously
developed in all existing lizards, corresponds with the unarmed
condition of the jaw, and the resemblance of the Rhynchosaurus in
this respect to the Chelys ferox, would seem to indicate that the
correspondence extended to the toothless condition of the jaws. The
resemblance of the mouth to the compressed beak of certain sea-
Reptilia,
birds, the bending down of the curved and elongated pre-maxil-
laries, so as to be opposed to the deep symphysial extremity of the
lower jaw, are further indications that the ancient Rhynchosaur may
have had its jaws encased by a bony sheath, as in birds and turtles.
There are few genera of extinct reptiles of which it is more de¬
sirable to obtain the means of determining the precise modifications
of the locomotive extremities than the Rhynchosaurus. The fortu¬
nate preservation of the skull has brought to light modifications of
the lacertine structure leading towards Chelonia and birds which
before were unknown; the vertebrae likewise exhibit very inter¬
esting deviations from the lacertian type. The entire reconstruc¬
tion of the skeleton of the Rhynchosaurus may be ultimately accom¬
plished, if due interest be taken in the collection and preservation
of the fossils of the Grinsill quarries.
Genus Oudenodon, Bain.
Sp. Oudenodon Bainii.—The fossils on which the
above genus and species are founded are from a bluish
argillo-ferruginous limestone in South Africa, and form
part of a collection transmitted to the British Museum
by A. G. Bain, Esq.
One portion of the fossil skull includes all that part in advance
of the temporal fossae ; the fore part of the temporal ridges, at the
upper and back part of this fragment, curve as they diverge from
each other to the back part of the orbit. The upper interorbital
part of the cranium is nearly flat, with the orbital margins slightly
raised, and terminating anteriorly in a low antorbital prominence;
the least breadth of the interorbital space is 1 inch. A slight de¬
pression divides the antorbital from the supranasal tuberosities.
The nasal bones form an almost flat rhomboid surface, from the
contracted fore part of which the broad premaxillary part of the
upper jaw inclines downward and forward at an open angle.
This part is traversed by a low obtuse median ridge, and termi¬
nates below in a trenchant edentulous border.
The nostrils are small, oval, and separated from each other by
the broad junction of the ascending branch of the premaxillary
with them.
The maxillary bone presents the chief peculiarity, being tra¬
versed obliquely by a strong angular ridge, commencing a little
anterior to the orbit, and terminating at the alveolar border, not
far from the maxillo-premaxillary suture. The alveolar border
gently curves to this termination, and shows no trace of a tooth or
alveolus.
The compound structure of the lower jaw is shown at the frac¬
tured back part, where an upper (surangular ?) element, thick and
rounded above, is received into an outer and lower element, thin
above, and thick and bent below, forming a groove for the recep¬
tion of the upper element. On the outer side of the jaw, about the
middle of the part preserved, there is a longitudinal depression or^
PALAEONTOLOGY. 143
narrow vacuity, above which there is a low ridge. The symphysis
is thick, long, and bent up in the form of a beak, terminating by
an edentulous sub-trenchant border; its fore and outer part is tra¬
versed by a low median ridge.
The length of this portion of the skull is 6 inches ; its breadth
across the maxillary ridges is 2 inches 10 lines; the extent of the
symphysis of the lower jaw is 2 inches 6 lines. Besides the evi¬
dence from the two nostrils, which removes the Oudenodon, like
the Rhynchosaurus, from the chelonian order, Mr Bain, in a letter
announcing the discovery of the fossils in South Africa, mentions
the association of other bones with skulls, which gives additional
proof of the saurian nature of the edentulous reptiles. He
writes A— “ There were many skulls entirely without teeth, which
we at first thought had belonged to Chelonians or turtles; but
afterwards, finding that the animals had distinct narrow ribs, which
Chelonians have not, we put them down also for something new,
and named them “ Oudenodons,” or toothless animals.
Order III.—Dicynodontia.
Genus Dicynodon, Ovv.—In 1844 Mr Andrew G.
Bain, who had been employed in the construction of mili¬
tary roads in the colony of the Cape of Good Hope, dis¬
covered, in the tract of country extending northwards from
the county of Albany, about 450 miles east of Cape Town,
several nodules or lumps of a kind of sandstone, which,
when broken, displayed in most instances evidences of fos¬
sil bones, and usually of a skull with two large projecting
teeth. Accordingly these evidences of ancient animal
life in South Africa were first notified to English geologists
by Mr Bain under the name of “ Bidentals and the spe¬
cimens transmitted by him were submitted to the writer
for examination. The results of the comparisons there¬
upon instituted went to show that there had formerly ex¬
isted in South Africa, and from geological evidence, pro¬
bably, in a great lake or inland sea, since converted into
dry land, a race of reptilian animals presenting in the con¬
struction of their skull characters of the crocodile, the tor¬
toise, and the lizard, coupled with the presence of a pair of
huge sharp-pointed tusks, growing downwards, one from
each side of the upper jaw, like the tusks of the mamma¬
lian morse or walrus. No other kind of teeth were de¬
veloped in these singular animals: the lower jaw was
armed, as in the tortoise, by a trenchant sheath of horn,
some bones of the back, or vertebrae, by the hollowness of
the co-adapted articular surfaces, indicate these reptiles to
have been good swimmers, and probably to have habi¬
tually existed in water; but the construction of the bony
passages of the nostrils proves that they must have come
to the surface to breathe air.
Some extinct plants allied to the Lepidodendron, with
other fossils, render it probable that the sandstones con¬
taining the dicynodont reptiles were of the same geologi¬
cal age as those that have revealed the remains of the
Rhynchosaurs and Labyrinthodonts in Europe.
The generic name Dicynodon is from the Greek words
signifying “ two tusks or canine teeth.” Three species of
this genus have been demonstrated from the fossils trans¬
mitted by Mr Bain.
Sp. Dicynodon lacerticeps, Ow.2—This species is founded on a
skull 6 inches in length, of which a reduced figure is given in cut
69, in which O shows the canine tusks.
Sp. Dicynodon testudiceps, Ow.—In this species the skull, and
the facial part more particularly, is shorter than in D. lacerticeps.
Sp.. Dicynodon strigiceps, Ow.—The shortening of the jaws and
blunting of the muzzle are carried to an extreme in this species, in
which the nostrils are situated almost beneath the orbits.
Sp. Dicynodon tigriceps, Ow.3—In this species the length of the
skull is 20 inches, its breadth across the widest part of the zygo¬
matic arches being 18 inches. It differs from the D. lacerticeps not
only in size, but in the relatively larger capacity of the temporal
fossae, and smaller size of the orbits. These cavities in D. lacerti¬
ceps occupy the middle third of the skull, but in D. tigriceps are Reptilia.
Fig. 69.
Skull and Tusks of Dicynodon lacerticeps.
in D. lacerticeps begins to slope or curve down from a line parallel
with the back part of the orbits, but in D. tigriceps it does not
begin to bend down until in advance of the orbits.
The vertebrae are bi-concave. The sacrum includes four or five
vertebrae, which coalesce with unusually broad iliac bones. Some
of the limb bones show a remarkable expansion of the distal end.
The complete restoration of these most extraordinary bi-dental rep¬
tiles would be an extremely welcome addition to palaeontology.
No evidence of the genus has yet been met with out of South
Africa. The English Rhynchosaurus seems, of all known European
fossil reptiles, the most nearly akin to Oudenodon and Dicynodon.
Order IV.—Enaliosauria.4
The creatures called Enaliosauria or sea-lizards were vertebrate
animals, or had back-bones, breathed the air like land-quadrupeds,
but were “ cold-blooded,” or of a low temperature, like crocodiles
and other reptiles. The proof that the Enaliosaurs respired atmo¬
spheric air immediately, and did not breathe water by means of
gills like fishes, is afforded by the absence of the bony framework
of the gill apparatus, and by the presence, position, and structure
of the air-passages leading from the nostrils to the mouth, and also
by the bony mechanism of the capacious chest or thoracic-abdomi¬
nal cavity; all of which characters have been demonstrated by
their fossil skeletons. With these characters the sea-lizards com¬
bined the presence of two pairs of limbs shaped like fins, and
adapted for swimming.
The group of reptiles so termed includes all those which have
any part of the thoracic-abdominal cavity encompassed by move-
able ribs. The first character distinguishes them from the Batra-
chia and Chelonia with fin-shaped limbs.
The Enaliosauria, however, do not form a strictly natural group,
being based upon a single character relating to medium of life
and locomotion. It is probable that the labyrinthodont reptiles
may have had their limbs in structure and shape as paddles; but
more important modifications of structure would keep them apart,
like the lower Batrachia and the Chelonia, from the more lizard¬
like reptiles called Enaliosauria.
In this group there are two divisions,—one characterized by
having five digits in the fin, the other by having more than that
typical number. The pentadactyle division may be subdivided
into those in which the ilio-pubic arch is attached to a sacrum and
those on which it is freely suspended or not so attached. The po¬
ly dactyle division presents a general type of structure more con¬
formable with that of which the Archegosaurs and Labyrintho¬
donts manifest two phases of development, and in which the ascent
from the gano-salamandroid fishes reaches its culminating point
in Ichthyosaurus.
Sub-order 1.—Sacropterygia.
Genus Nothosaurus, Munster.
Sp. Nothosaurus mirabilis, Munster.— In fig. 70 is given an ana¬
lysis of the chief characters as yet ascertained of the species which
may be regarded as the type of its family; by comparing this
diagram with that of the Archegosaurus (fig. 65), the advance in
the organization of the aquatic reptiles will be readily traced and
understood.
The skull is no longer defended by a continuous covering of
sculptured plate-bones; the vacuities behind the orbits for the
temporal muscles are large and widely open. These vacuities are
fenced externally by two long and slender horizontal bony bars;
2 The Eastern Province Monthly Magazine, Graham’s Town, September 1856.
Trans. Geological Society, 2d series, vol. vii. (dis, two, kunodos, canine-teeth).
3 Trans. Geol. Soc., 2d series, vol. vii., p. 233. 4 From
From 6v, in, uks, the sea, mru^os, a lizard.
144
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Reptilia. the upper one is formed by the mastoid (fig. 70, 8) and the post-
fontal (12); the lower one by the malar (27), and squamosal (28);
the latter answering to the true zygomatic arch in Mammals. The
squamosal abuts by its hinder expanded end against the almost
vertical tympanic pedicle, which gives attachment to the lower
jaw. This shows the reptilian compound structure : 29 marks the
surangular element, 30 the angular one, 32 the dentary. In the
side-view of the skull in fig. 70, 22 is the premaxillary, 21 the
maxillary, 15 the nasal—the cavity below being the nostril,
10 the prefontal—between which and 21 is the lacrymal, 11 the
frontal above the orbit. The premaxillary teeth and correspond¬
ing premandibular ones are unusually long, strong, and sharp;
there are two similar teeth in each maxillary; the remaining
serial teeth are smaller, but equally acute. There are no teeth on
the palate.
The almost entire and undisturbed vertebral column, from the
muschelkalk of Bayreuth, figured by Von Meyer in pi. 23 of his
work on muschelkalk Saurians, and attributed by him to Notho-
saurus mirabilis, gives the earliest indication of.that modification
of the trunk-bones which reaches its maximum in the Plesiosaurus
(fig. 72), in which it was first detected by the sagacity of Cony-
Twenty of the anterior vertebrae of this series, in Nothosaurus,
which begins with the atlas, have the whole or part of the rib-pit
situated on the centrum, as in the first vertebra in fig. 70; the
pit is wholly there on fourteen vertebrae; it begins to ascend upon
the neural arch in the fifteenth, as in the second vertebrae, given in
fig. 70, and is wholly placed there on the twenty-first vertebra.
°According, therefore, to the characters by which the writer has
proposed 1 2 to distinguish the cervical from the dorsal vertebrae,
Nothosaurus has twenty of the former. In the specimen referred
to, nineteen consecutive vertebrae show the rib-pit supported
Keptilia.
wholly on an outstanding diapophysis from the neural arch, as in
the third vertebra in fig. 70 ; these are to be reckoned therefore
as dorsal vertebrae. In the cervical vertebrae the rib-pit is large,
vertically reniform, not divided by a groove ; its circumference
slightly projects in Nothosaurus.
There is no clear evidence of any of the cervical ribs being ter¬
minally expanded and hatchet-shaped, as in Plesiosaurus ; those of
the back are vertically longer than in Plesiosaurus, and more convex.
In the sacral vertebrae, fourth in fig. 70, the rib-pits again begin
to sink upon the centrum. _
There are two distinct sacral. vertebrae in Nothosaurus. I hey
are known by their long, straight, terminally-bent, and convergent
pleurapophyses, the first of which overlaps a little the second. To
the convergent ends of these riblets, the ilium (fig. 70, 62, pi)
was doubtless ligamentously affixed. In the first caudal vertebra
the par- and di-apophyses stand out much farther than in the
sacrum ; but rapidly shorten in the second and third caudals. The
compound process in each supports a short stiliform straight rib-
let, as in the fifth figured vertebra (fig. 70); the anterior and suc¬
ceeding caudals support haemal arches and spines, after the dis¬
appearance of the pleurapophyses. The hamaal arch disappears in
about the eighth vertebra from the end, and finally the neural
arch. The terminal centrums are subelongate and subcom¬
pressed. Both Nothosaurus and Pistosaurus had abdominal ribs,
of which the median piece (fig. 70, hs) was subsymmetrical, the
two rays diverging at a very open angle, and terminating in a
point or a fork ; the side-pieces (p) seem not to have been so nume¬
rous as in Plesiosaurus. _ ,. ,
The scapula (fig. 70, 51) is a short and strong bone, its blade
appearing as a short and narrow sub-compressed process extending
from the subq uadi ate, thick and expanded end which affords the
articular surfaces for the coracoid, clavicle, and humerus.
The clavicle, which is an exogenous process in Plesiosaurus, is
here united by a strong oblique suture to the scapula. It expands
into, or sends off from its outer part, a broad, fiat, obtuse process,
near the suture ; then contracts and bends inwards to the epister-
num, to which it is articulated also by suture. ± a l
The coracoid (fig. 70, 52) sends forward a broad and short flat¬
tened process, separated by a narrow notch from the scapular part
of its head ; it then contracts and soon expands into a broad, flat,
sub-triangular plate, the broad and straight border of which arti¬
culates with that of the opposite coracoid.
A wide unossified interval separates the coracoid from the epi-
sternum ; their ossification in the direction of this interval gives the
peculiar longitudinal or fore-and-aft extent to the coracoids of the
Plesiosaur, in which these bones unite with the episternum. .
The pelvic arch presents a closer correspondence with that in the
Plesiosaurus (fig. 72).
The ischium (fig. 70, 63), contracting beyond its articular head,
there expands into a flat subtriangular plate.
The pubis (fig. 70, 64) is a subcircular flat bone, with a notch
near the articular end.
The bones of the limbs, although evidently those of fins or paddle¬
shaped extremities, are better developed than in Plesiosaurus, and
more resemble the corresponding bones in the turtle (Chelones).
The tuberosities or processes for muscular attachment near the head
of the humerus (omitted in the diagram) are better marked, espe¬
cially that on the concave side of the shaft; the distal end is
thicker and less expanded. The whole bone is more curved than
in any Plesiosauri. The femur (fig. 70, 65) is relatively7 longer and
less expanded at its distal end. The bones of the fore arm, like
those of the leg (fig. 70, 66 and 67), are longer than in Plesiosau¬
rus. The articular surfaces present the foramina with raised bor¬
ders, which characterize those in Plesiosauri, and which indicate
the fibro-cartilaginous nature of the joints.
There is a ligamentous or unossified space at the back part of
both carpus and tarsus (fig. 70, 68).
At present there is evidence of but four digits in both the fore
and hind paddles of Nothosaurus ; the metapodial and phalangeal
bones are of the elongate flattened simple form, characteristic of
supports of a tegumentary fin. One species of Aothosaurus (N.
Schimperi, Von. M.) is from the lower division of the trias, called
“gres bizarre” of Soulz-les-Bains; the other representatives of
the genus (N. giganteus, N. venustus, N. Munsteri, N. Andriani, N.
angustifros, and N. mirabilis), are from the muschelkalk of Bay¬
reuth and Luneville.
Genus Pistosaurus, Von Meyer.
Sp. Pistosaurus longoeous.—In this genus the facial part of the
skull contracts abruptly in front of the orbits ; so that, view ed from
above, it resembles a long-necked bottle; the orbits are situated
in the posterior half of the skull, and the nostrils are lateral. 1 rom
the muschelkalk of Bayreuth.
Genus Conchiosaurus, Von Meyer.
Sp. Conchiosaurus clavatus.—The facial part of the skull is less
prolonged than in Pistosaurus, and the nostrils are terminal. The
teeth are tw'elve in number on each side, are subequal, with widish
intervals with py7riform crown. Prom the muschelkalk atLaineck,
near Bayreuth.
Genus SiMOSAURUS,3 Von Meyer.
Sp. Simosaurus Gaillardoti.—The fossils, chiefly cranial, on which
this genus is founded, occur in the dolomitic muschelkalk near
Ludwigsberg, and in the muschelkalk of Luneville. The skull
presents the large temporal fossae, the divided nostrils, and the
<>-eneral depressed form and composition of that of Nothosaurus and
Pistosaurus, But its facial part is much shorter; the muzzle is
neither prolonged nor terminally expanded, but forms the obtuse
1 Trans. Geol. Soc., vol. vi., 1822, and vol. i., 2d series, p. 381, 1824.
3 snub-nosed, fiat-nose.
2 Report of British Fossil Reptiles, 1839, pp. 50, 58.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
145
Reptilia. enc* °f t*le short depressed face, of which the premaxillary part is
the narrowest. The nostrils, consequently, although distant from
the orbits by half the diameter of the latter, are yet nearer the
fore end of the skull than in the above-cited macrotrachelian
genera. The nostrils are relatively nearer to each other, the in¬
tervening bony tract due to the premaxillaries chiefly being, rela¬
tively to the breadth of the skull, much narrower in Simosaurus
than in Notho- or Pisto-saurus.
The profile of the skull rises from the internasal to the inter¬
orbital regions much more than in the Nothosaur, and the depths
of the skull, behind the orbit, is greater in proportion to its length.
The post-frontals are most clearly produced backwards, along the
upper border of the zygoma to the mastoids. The malars are co¬
extended, and connected with the post-frontals, but terminate
freely and obtusely a little beyond the' co-prolonged hind part of
the maxillary, without being met by or joining a squamosal.
Most complete and extensive is the ossification of the roof of
the mouth in this genus. The pterygoids are expanded into one
broad unbroken imperforate flat expanse of bone, from about one-
third of the distance from the snout to the occipital condyle; they
are united by a median suture, and underlap the whole of the
sphenoid. The teeth, compared with JVothosaurus, are few and
large, and are subequal, save one or two at the fore and hind ex
tremity of the series. The crown expands a little above the fang,
is conical, sub-bifurcate, and impressed by a few coarse longitudinal
ridges; some are obtuse, others acute; but all are shorter and
thicker than in Notho- or Pisto-saurus.
The vertebrae have flat or very slightly concave articular sur¬
faces on the body; the neural arch articulates therewith by
suture. In these characters, and in their general proportions, they
resemble those of Notho- and Plesiosaurus. It is significant of
some difference in respect of the arrangement of the vertebras in
the same column, that although specimens from the tail, and from
different parts of the back, have been obtained, no cervical verte¬
bra with any probability belonging to this genus has yet been
found. The caudal centrum presents two well-defined, rather pro¬
minent, hypapophyses for the haemal arch. The coracoid in the
contraction of the body reminded Cuvier of that of the Ichthyo¬
saurus, but its expanded median part was differently shaped. The
pubis, like that of the Plesiosaurus, resembles to a certain degree
the pubis in Chelonia. The few bones of the limbs which have
been found still more resemble, as do those of Pistosaurus, the cor¬
responding bones of marine Chelonia.
Accordingly, there have been entered in palaeontological cata¬
logues an Ichthyosaurus Lunevillensis (De la Beche), a Plesiosaurus
Lunevillensis (Munster), and a Chelonia Lunevillensis (Gray and
Keferstein) ; but all these are parts of one and the same genus of
Enaliosaurian, the “ Saurien des environs de Lunfjville” of Cuvier,
the “ Simosaurus” of II. von Meyer.
Genus Placodus.—The cranial structure in this genus of musch-
elkalk reptile is closely similar to that in Simosaurus, but its pro¬
portions are different; it is as broad as long; the greatest breadth
being behind, whence the sides converge to an obtuse muzzle ; the
entire figure viewed from above being that of a right-angled tri¬
angle, with the corners rounded off. The temporal fossae are the
widest, and zygomatic arches the strongest, in the whole class Rep¬
tilia ; the lower jaw presents a like excessive development of the
coronoid processes. These developments, for great size and power
of action of the biting and grinding muscles, relate to a most
extraordinary form and size of the teeth, which resemble paving-
stones, and were evidently adapted to crack and bru.ise shells and
crusts of marine Invertebrata.
The teeth of the upper jaw consist of an external or maxillary
series, and an internal or palatal series. The maxillary series are
supported in a marginal row of alveoli by the premaxillary and
maxillary bones ; the palatal series are implanted in the palatine
and pterygoid bones. The maxillo-premaxillary teeth are five in
number on each side, two implanted in the premaxillary, and three
in the maxillary. The premaxillary teeth are subequal, smaller
than the maxillary teeth; their crowns are subhemispheric in P.
laticeps, but in P. Andriani they present bfent, pointed, prehensile
character. In P. laticeps the first maxillary tooth has a full oval
crown, 4J lines by 4 in diameter ; the second measures lines by
4J lines in diameter ; the third is subcircular, 8 lines in diameter,
on the right side. The palatal series begins on the inner side of
this tooth, and consists of two teeth on each side. The first tooth
has a full elliptical crown, 10 lines by 8 ; the second tooth, de¬
veloped in the broad pterygoid bone, presents a full oval shape, 1
inch 9 lines by 1 inch 3 lines in diameter. In Placodus gigas and
P. Andriani the palatal teeth, three in number on each side, are all
of large size, slightly increasing from before backwards; they are
situated close together, forming on each side a series a little curved
with the convexity outwards, and the interspace between the two
series is very narrow. The first tooth is triangular, the second and
VOL. XVII.
third are quadrangular; each with the angles rounded, and the Rentilia
transverse diameter exceeding the fore and aft or longitudinal one. ^
The maxillary teeth are much smaller than the palatal ones, have
a rounded or subquadrate crown, are four in number, and of
subequal dimensions. The premaxillary teeth, three in number on
each side, are more remote and distinct from the maxillary teeth
than in Placodus rostratus and P. laticeps ; their crowns are more
elongated and conical than in P. laticeps ; the prehensile power of
the prolonged premaxillary part of the jaw being obviously greater
in Placodus gigas than in P. laticeps or P. rostratus. The size of
the last tooth in P. laticeps surpasses that of any of the teeth in
the previously discovered species. In proportion to the entire
skull, it is the largest grinding tooth in the animal kingdom, the
elephant itself not excepted.
All these teeth are implanted by short simple bases in distinct
hollow sockets, subject to the same law of displacement and succes¬
sion as in other reptiles. By some it may be deemed requisite to se¬
parate generically the Placodi with two teeth from those with three
teeth in each palatal series; but the Placodus rostratus offers a
transitional condition in the small relative size of the first two
palatal teeth, and in the rounded form of all the teeth, from the P.
Andriani to the P. laticeps.
We cannot contemplate the extreme and peculiar modification of
form of the teeth in the genus Placodus without a recognition of
their adaptation to the pounding and crushing of hard substances,
and a suspicion that the association of the fossils with shell-clad
Mollusks in such multitudes as to have suggested special denomi¬
nations to the strata containing Placodus (e.g., muschelkalk, tere-
bratulitenkalk, &c.), is indicative of the class whence the Placodi
derived their chief subsistence.
No doubt the most numerous examples of similarly-shaped teeth
for a like purpose are afforded by the class of fishes, as, e.g., by the
extinct Pycnodonts, and by the wolf-fish (Anarrhichas lupus) and
the Cestracion of the existing seas. But the reptilian class is not
without its instances at the present day of teeth shaped like paving-
stones, of which certain Australian lizards exhibit this pecu¬
liarity in so marked a degree that the generic name Cyclodus
has been invented to express that peculiarity. Amongst extinct
reptiles, also, a species of lizard from the tertiary deposits of
the Limagne in Prance presents round obtuse teeth, of which
the last, in the lower jaw, is suddenly and considerably larger
than the rest.
Nothosaurus, Simosaurus, and Pistosaurus present the same evi¬
dences of lacertian affinities in the division of the nostrils by the
median extension of the premaxillary backwards to the nasals, the
same thecodont dentition, and the same circumscription of the
orbits and temporal fossae as in Placodus : there is also a general
family likeness in the upward aspect of these apertures, accompany¬
ing an extreme depression of the skull. The muzzle, though varying
greatly in length in these genera, presents the same obtuseness;
and the alveolar border of the jaws the same smooth outward con¬
vexity which we observe in the Placodus. The peculiar confluence
of the elements of the upper and lower zygomatic arches,—i.e., of
post-frontal and malar,—-forming the broad wall of bone behind the
orbit, is continued still further backwards in the Simosaurus. In
Pistosaurus the elongated post-frontal, malar, and squamosal are
united together in one deep zygomatic arch, which has the mastoid
and tympanic for its hinder abutment.
It is remarkable that hitherto no vertebrae or other bones of the
trunk or limbs have been found so associated with the teeth of
Placodus, as to have suggested their belonging to the same species.
Usually, after the indication of a reptile by detached teeth, the
next step in its reconstruction is based upon detached vertebrae.
The twelve or more evidences of Placodus, afforded by bone as well
as tooth, are all portions of the skull.
It is possible that some of the singularly modified vertebrae from
the muschelkalk, next to be described, may belong to the Placodus ;
and the same surmise suggests itself in reference to some of the
limb-bones from the muschelkalk that cannot be assigned to other
known saurian genera.
The obvious adaptation of the dentition of Placodus to the crush¬
ing of very hard kinds of food, its close analogy to the dentition
of certain fishes known to subsist by breaking the shells of whelks
and other shell-clad Mollusks, and the characteristic abundance of
fossil shells in the strata to which the remains of Placodus are pe¬
culiar, concur in producing the belief that the species of this genus
were reptiles frequenting the sea-shore, and probably good swim¬
mers. But as at present we have got no further than the head and
teeth in the reconstruction of this mezozoic form of molluscivorous
reptile, the present notice will conclude with a remark suggested
by the disposition and form of the teeth. In all the species, under
the rather wide range of specific varieties of the dentition, there
are two rows of the crushing teeth in the upper jaw, and only one
row in the lower jaw, on each side of the mouth ; and the lower
T
j
146
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Reptilia. row plays upon both upper rows, with its strongest (middle) line of
^ r ■> force directed against their interspace. Thus the crushing force
below presses upon a part between the two planes or points of re¬
sistance above, on the same principle on which we break a stick
across the knee ; only here the fulcrum is at the intermediate point,
the moving powers at the two parts grasped by the hands. It is
obvious that a portion of shell pressed between two opposite flat
surfaces might resist the strongest bite, but subjected to alternate
points of pressure its fracture would be facilitated.1
Genus Tanystroph.eus.
Sp. Tanystrophceus compicuus, H. von. Meyer.— Certain long,
Fig. 71.
Tanystrophoeus (Trias).
slender, hollow bones, from the German muschelkalk strata,
were referred by Count Munster to the class Reptilia, under
the name of Macroscelosaurus, under the impression that they
were bones of the limbs. H. von Meyer subsequently, in more
perfect specimens, observing that each slightly expanded extre¬
mity of the long bone was terminated by a symmetrical oval con¬
cave articular surface, surmounted by a pair of symmetrical lateral
incurved plates, resembling confluent neurapophyses, with articu¬
lar surfaces, and with their sometimes confluent bases arching over
a neural canal (as in the left-hand figure in cut 71), recognised
their vertebral character ; and, adopting the determination of their
reptilian nature, but repudiating the idea of their being limb-
bones, he discarded Munster’s name, and substituted for it that of
Tanystrophceus,2 indicative of their peculiar proportions asvertebrae.
Although the articular ends are for the most part symmetrical,
the long intervening body is not so. It is subcompressed, usually
broader and flatter below than above; sometimes more flattened
on one side^than on the other, giving an irregular, vertically oval,
or triangular cross section. A low median ridge is not uncommon
on the lower surface towards the ends of the vertebra ; and similar
less regular ridges project from the sides of the otherwise smooth
outer surface. The centrum is excavated by a canal, resembling a
medullary one, but more probably filled, in the recent state, as in
the long caudal style of the frog, with unossified cartilage. The
walls of this cavity are compact, and in thickness about one-sixth
of the diameter of the bone. The terminal neural arches support
each a low median ridge or rudimental spine, which soon sub¬
sides. The trace of neural canal in like manner disappears, or is
continued by two distinct slender canals which traverse for a cer¬
tain extent the substance of the thicker upper wall of the cavity of
the vertebral body. A single large vascular canal opens on the
wider surface midway between the two ends of the body. There
is no trace of transverse processes, rib-surfaces, or haemapophyses ;
this, and the absence of the continuous neural canal, indicate these
singular vertebrae to belong to the tail. From the long caudo-
vertebral style of anourous Batrachia the vertebrae of Tanystro¬
phceus differ in having distinct articular surfaces at both ends.
The difference of shape and size in the few that have been found
also indicates that there were more than two such vertebrae in the
tail of the extraordinary animal to which they have belonged.
Caudal vertebrae of the normal proportions and structure, from
muschelkalk of the same localities with Tanystrophceus have been
referred to Nothosaurus. It is possible, however, that one or other
of the remarkable genera—Simosaurus, Placodus, e.g.—may have pos¬
sessed the peculiar structure in the tail, or some part of it, which
the tanystrophaean vertebrae indicate. The first four vertebrae of the
neck or trunk of the Fistularia tahaccaria are those which most re¬
semble in their proportions the vertebrae above described; but none of
the fistularian vertebrae have the articular concavity, and the zyga-
pophyses, at both ends ; the first presents them at the fore end, and
the last at the hind end, and the modifications of both these finished
articular ends pretty closely correspond with those of Tanystro¬
phceus ; but the second and third vertebrae of Fistularia are united
with the first and fourth by sutural surfaces with deeply-inter¬
locking pointed processes.
Genus Sphenosaurus.
Sp. Sphenosaurus Sternbergii, Von M.—The fossil vertebrae on
which this genus is founded are imbedded in a sandstone, most Reptilia.
like the hunter, from Bohemia or the south of Germany. Of the . f
twenty-three vertebrae so preserved in nearly their natural position, _Y ~
and with their under surface exposed, five belong to the tail, the
rest to the trunk. Of these, two are sacral, two lumbar, the rest are
dorsal or thoracic, with long and slender ribs connected with them.
The neural arch appears to have been suturally united to the
centrum with large zygapophyses. The articular end of the centrum
is vertical to its axis; both are slightly concave. Between each
centrum is a transversely oval, depressed ossicle, homologous with
the cervical wedge-bones or hypapophyses in Enaliosaurs. This
is the chief peculiarity in Sphenosaurus, and recalls a character in
the vertebral column of Archegosaurus.
Genus Plesiosaurus.—The discovery of this genus forms one of
the most important additions that geology has made to comparative
anatomy. Baron Cuvier deemed the structure of the Plesiosaur “ to
have been the most singular, and its characters the most anomalous
that had been discovered amid the ruins of a former world.” “To the
head of a lizard it united the teeth of a crocodile, a neck of enormous
length, resembling the body of a serpent, a trunk and tail having
the proportions of an ordinary quadruped, the ribs of a chameleon,
and the paddles of a whale.” “ Such,” writes Dr Buckland, “ are
the strange combinations of form and structure in the Plesiosaurus,
a genus, the remains of which, after interment for thousands of
years amidst the wreck of millions of extinct inhabitants of the
ancient earth, are at length recalled to light by the researches of
the geologist, and submitted to our examination, in nearly as per¬
fect a state as the bones of species that are now existing upon the
earth.”
The first remains of this animal were discovered in the lias of
Lyme Regis about the year 1822, and formed the subject of the
paper by the Rev. Mr Conybeare (afterwards dean of Llan-
daff), and Mr (afterwards Sir Henry) De la Beche, in which
the genus was established, and named Plesiosaurus (“ approxi¬
mate to the Saurians”), from the Greek words, plesios and sauros,
signifying “ near ” or “ allied to,” and “ lizard,” because the
authors saw that it was more nearly allied to the lizard than
was the Ichthyosaurus from the same formation.
The entire and undisturbed skeletons of several individuals, of
different species, have since been discovered, fully confirming the
sagacious restorations by the original discoverers of the Plesiosaurus.
Vertebral Column.—The vertebral bodies have their terminal
articular surfaces either flat or slightly concave, or with the
middle of such cavity a little convex. In general the bodies pre¬
sent two pits and holes at their under part. The cervical vertebrae
consist of centrum, neural arch, and pleurapophyses. The latter
are wanting in the first vertebra; but both this and the second
have the hypapophyses.
The cervical ribs are short, and expand at their free end, so as to
have suggested the term “hatchet-bones” to their first discoverers.
They articulate by a simple head to a shallow pit, which is rarely
supported on a process, from the side of the centrum ; but is com¬
monly bisected by a longitudinal groove, a rudimental indication of
the upper and lower processes which sustain the cervical ribs in
Crocodilia.
The body of the atlas articulates with a large hypapophysis
below, with the neurapophysis above, with the body of the axis
behind, and with part of the occipital condyle in front; all the ar¬
ticulations save the last become, in Plesiosaurus pachyomus, and pro¬
bably with age in other species, obliterated by anchylosis. The
hypapophysis forms the lower two-thirds, the neurapophysis con¬
tributes the upper and lateral parts, and the centrum forms the
middle or bottom of the cup for the occipital condyle. The second
hypapophysis is lodged in the inferior interspace between the
bodies of the atlas and axis ; it becomes anchylosed to these and to
the first hypapophysis. The first pleurapophysis, or rudimental
rib, is developed from the centrum of the axis.
As the cervical vertebrae approach the dorsal, the lower part of
the costal pit becomes smaller, the upper part larger, until it forms
the whole surface, gradually rising from the centrum to the neur¬
apophysis.
The dorsal region is arbitrarily commenced by this vertebra,
in which the costal surface begins to be supported on a diapophy¬
sis, which progressively increases in length in the second and
third dorsal, continues as a transverse process to near the end of
the trunk ; and on the vertebra above or between the iliac bones,
it subsides to the level of the neurapophysis. In the caudal ver¬
tebra the costal surface gradually descends from the neurapophy¬
sis upon the side of the centrum ; it is never divided by the longi¬
tudinal groove which, in most Plesiosauri, indents that surface in
1 Previous to the writer’s Memoir on Placodus in the Philosophical Transactions (1858), all palaeontologists had referred the genus to
the pycnodont order of fishes. 2 From t0 «l°ngate, verto.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
147
Reptilia the cervical vertebrae. The neural arches remain long unanchy-
, , losed with the centrum in all Plesiosauri, and appear to be always
/ distinct in some species. The pleurapophyses gain in length, and
lose in terminal breadth in the hinder cervicals ; and become long
and slender ribs in the dorsal region, curving outwards and down¬
wards so as to encompass the upper two-thirds of the thoracic ab¬
dominal cavity. They decrease in length and curvature as they
approach the tail, where they are reduced to short straight pieces,
as in the neck, but are not terminally expanded ; they cease to be
developed near the end of the tail. The haemapophyses in the abdo¬
minal region are subdivided, and with the haemal spine or median
piece, form a kind of “ plastron” of transversely-extended, slightly-
bent, median and lateral, overlapping, bony bars, occupying the
subabdominal space between the coracoids and pubicals. In the
tail the haemapophyses are short and straight, and remain re-united
both with the centrum above and with each other below. The
haemal spine is not developed in this region. This modification
has been expressed by the statement that there were no chevron-
bones in the Plesiosaur. The tail is much shorter in the Plesio- than
in the Ichthyosaurus.
The skull is depressed ; its length is rather more than thrice its
breadth; but the proportions somewhat vary in different species.
The cranial part, or that behind the orbits, is quadrate; thence it
contracts laterally to near the maxillo-premaxillary suture, where
it continues either parallel or with a slight swelling before round. Reptilia.
ing into the obtuse anterior termination.
The orbits are at or near the middle of the skull, estimating the
length of this by that of the lower jaw, they are in advance of the
middle in Plesiosaurus Hawkinsii. The orbits are rather subtri-
angular than round, being somewhat squared off behind, straight
above, and contracted anteriorly. No trace of sclerotic plates has
yet been discerned in any specimen. The temporal fossas are large
subquadrate apertures. The nostrils, which are a little in advance
of the orbits, are scarcely larger than the parietal foramen. Be¬
neath them, upon the palate, are two similar-sized apertures, pro¬
bably the palatal nostrils.
The lower jaw presents an angular, surangular, splenial, and
dentary element, in each ramus; the dentary elements being con¬
fluent at the expanded symphysis. There is no vacuity between
the angular and surangular or any other element of the jaw. The
coronoid process is developed, as in Placodus, from the surangular,
but rises only a little higher than in crocodiles. The alveoli are
distinct cavities, and there is a groove along the inner border in
both jaws.
When the successional teeth first project in that groove they
give the appearance of a double row of teeth. All the teeth are
sharp-pointed, long and slender, circular in cross section, with fine
longitudinal ridges on the enamel j the anterior teeth are the longest.
Fig. 72.
Plesiosaurus (Lias).
The scapula is a strong triradiate bone, the longest ray being
formed by the acromial or clavicular process which arches forward
and inward to abut against the sternum or epicoracoid.
The proper body of the scapula1 is short and straight, somewhat
flattened ; the thick articular end, which forms the shortest ray, is
subequally divided by the articular surface for the coracoid, and
that for the head of the humerus.
The coracoids are chiefly remarkable for their excessive expan¬
sion in the direction of the axis of the trunk, extending from the
abdominal ribs forward, so as to receive the entosternum, which is
wedged into their anterior interspace. The median borders meet
and unite for an extent determined by their degree of curvature
or convexity, which is always slight.
The coracoids unite anteriorly with the clavicles as well as with
the episternum ; laterally they articulate with the scapula, com¬
bining to form the glenoid cavity for the humerus.
The episternum has the same general form as the median pieces
of the abdominal ribs, being, like those pieces, a modified haemal
spine, only more advanced in position ; the lateral wings or pro¬
longations are broader and flatter; the median process is short; a
longitudinal ridge projects from the middle of the internal surface.
The humerus is a moderately thick and long bone, with a convex
head, sub-cylindrical at its proximal end, becoming flattened and
gradually expanded to its distal end, where it is divided into two
indistinct surfaces for the radius and ulna. The shaft in most spe¬
cies is slightly curved backwards, or the hind border is concave,
whilst the front one is straight. The radius and ulna are about
half the length of the humerus ; the former is straight, the latter
curved or reniform, with the concavity towards the radius 5 both
are flattened ; the radius is a little contracted towards its carpal
end, and in some species is longer than the ulna. The carpus con¬
sists of a double row of flat rounded discs,—the largest at the radial
side of the wrist; the ulnar or hinder side appearing to have con¬
tained more unossified matter. The metacarpals, five in number,
are elongate, slender, slightly expanded at the two ends, flattened,
and sometimes a little bent. The phalanges of the five digits have
a similar form, but are smaller, and progressively decrease in size ;
the expansion of the two ends, which are truncate, makes the sides
or margins concave. The first or radial digit has generally three
phalanges, the second from five to seven, the third eight or nine,
the fourth eight, the fifth five or six phalanges. All are flattened ;
the terminal ones are nailless ; and the whole were obviously in¬
cluded, like the paddle of the porpoise and turtle, in a common
sheath of integument. The pelvic arch consists of a short but strong
and straight narrow moveable ilium, and of a broad and flat
pubis and ischium; the former subquadrate or subcircular, the
latter triangular; the fore-and-aft expanse of both bones nearly
equals that of the coracoids. All concur in the formation of the
hip-joint. The ischium and pubis again unite together near their
mesial borders, leaving a wide elliptic vacuity, or “ foramen ovale”
between this junction and their outer acetabular one. The pelvic
paddle is usually of equal length with the pectoral one, but in P.
niacrocephalus it is longer. The bones closely correspond, in num¬
ber, arrangement, and form, with those of the fore limb. The
femur has the hind margin less concave, and so appears more
straight. The fibula, in its reniform shape, agrees with its homo¬
type the ulna. The tarsal bones are also smallest on the tibial
side. Of existing reptiles, the lizards, and amongst these the old
world Monitors (Varanus, Fitz.), by reason of the cranial vacui¬
ties in front of the orbits, most resemble the Plesiosaur in the
structure of the skull. The division of the nostrils, the vacuities
in the occipital region between the exoccipitals and tympanies, the
parietal foramen, the zygomatic extension of the post-frontal, the
palato-maxillary, and pterygo-sphenoid vacuities in the bony
palate, are all lacertian characters, as contradistinguished from
crocodilian ones.
But the antorbital vacuities between the nasal, pre-frontal, and
maxillary bones are the sole external nostrils in the Plesiosaurs;
the zygomatic arch abuts against the fore part of the tympanic,
and fixes it. A much greater extent of the roof of the mouth is
ossified than in lizards, and the palato-maxillarv and pterygo-sphe¬
noid fissures are reduced to small size. The teeth, finally, are im¬
planted in distinct sockets. That the Plesiosaur had the “ head of
a lizard ’ is an emphatic mode of expressing the amount of resem-
1 This is omitted in most of the published restorations of the Plesiosaurus.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
148
Reptilia. blance in their cranial conformation. The crocodilian affinities,
however, are not confined to the teeth, hut extend to the structure
of the skull itself. _ .
In the simple mode of articulation of the ribs, the lacertian am-
nity is again strongly manifested ; but to this vertebral character
such affinity is limited; all the others exemplify the ordinal dis¬
tinction of the Plesiosaurs from known existing reptiles. The
shape of the joints of the centrums ; the number of vertebrae be¬
tween the head and tail, especially of those of the neck ; the slight
indication of the sacral vertebrae ; the non-confluence of the caudal
haemapophyses with each other, are all “ plesiosauroid.” In the size
and number of abdominal ribs and sternum may perhaps be discerned
a first step in that series of development of the haemapophyses of the
trunk which reaches its maximum in the plastron of the Chelonia.
The connation of the clavicle with the scapula is common to the
Chelonia with the Plesiosauri ; the expansion of the coracoids—
extreme in Plesiosauri—is greater in Chelonia than in Crocodilia,
but is still greater in some Lacerlia. The form and proportions
of the pubis and ischium, as compared with the ilium, in the pel¬
vic arch of the Plesiosauri, find the nearest approach in the pelvis
of marine Chelonia; and no other existing reptile now offers so
near, although it be so remote, a resemblance to the structure of
the paddles of the Plesiosaur. Amongst the many figurative illus¬
trations of the nature of the Plesiosaur in which popular writers
have indulged, that which compares it to a snake threaded
through the trunk of a turtle is the most striking; but the num¬
ber of vertebrse in the Plesiosaur is no true indication of affinity
with the ophidian order of reptiles. _
The reptilian skull from formations underlying the lias, to which
that of Plesiosaurus has the nearest resemblance, is the skull of the
Pistosaurus, from the German muschelkalk.1 The nostrils have a
similar position and diminutive size in Pistosaurus, but are some¬
what more in advance of the orbits, and the premaxillaries enter
into the formation of their boundary : the premaxillary muzzle
and the temporal fossae are also somewhat longer and narrower.
The post-frontals and mastoids more clearly combine with malars
and squamosals in forming the zygomatic arch, which is of greater
depth in Pistosaurus: the parietal foramen is larger: there is no
trace of a median parietal crest. On the palate, besides the \a-
cuities between the pterygoids and presphenoids, and the small
foramina between the palatines, premaxillaries, and maxillanes,
there is in Pistosaurus a single median foramen in advance of the
latter foramina, between the pointed anterior ends of the ptery¬
goids and the premaxillaries. In Nothosaurus the pterygoids ex¬
tend back, underlapping the basi-sphenoid, as far as the basi-occi-
pital, the median suture uniting them being well marked to their
termination; and there is no appearance of vacuities like the
pterygo-sphenoid ones in Plesio- and Pisto-saurus.
The tympanies are relatively longer, and extend farther back in
Pisto- than in Plesiosaurus. There is no trace of lacrymals in Pisto¬
saurus ; and its maxillaries are relatively larger than in Plesiosaurus.
In Pistosaurus there are 18 teeth on each side the upper jaw, includ¬
ing the 5 premaxillary teeth ; in Plesiosaurus there are from 30 to
40° teeth on each side. In Pistosaurus the teeth are relatively
larger and present a more oval transverse section : the anterior
teeth are proportionally larger than the posterior ones than they
are in Plesiosaurus. The disproportion is still greater in Notho¬
saurus, in some species of which the teeth behind the premaxillary
and symphysial terminal expansions of the jaws suddenly become
—e.q., in Nothosaurus mirabilis (fig. 70)-very small, and form a
straight, numerous, and close-set single series along the maxillary
and corresponding part of the mandibular bone.
Both Nothosaurus and Pistosaurus had many neck-vertebrae ; and
the transition from these to the dorsal series was effected, as in
Plesiosaurus, by the ascent of the rib-surface from the centrum to
the neurapophysis ; but the surface, when divided between the two
elements, projected further outwards than in most Plesiosauri.
In both Notho- and Pisto-saurus the pelvic vertebra develops a
combined process (par- and di-apophysis), but of re ative y ar^er,
vertically longer size, standing well out, and from near the fore
part of the side of the vertebra. This process, with the coalesced
riblet, indicates a stronger ilium, and a firmer base of attach
ment of the hind limb to the trunk, than in Plesiosaurus. Both this
structure, and the greater length of the bones of the fore arm an
leg show that the muschelkalk predecessors of the liassic Plesio-
sauri were better organized for occasional progression on dry land.
More than twenty species of Plesiosaurus have been described by, or
are known to, the writer : their remains occur in the oolitic, W eal-
den, and cretaceous formations, ranging from the lias upwards to
the chalk, inclusive. A comparison of remains of various Plesio¬
sauri has led to a conviction, that specific distinctions are accom¬
panied with well-marked differences in the structure and propor¬
tions of answerable vertebrae, but are not shown in small differ- Reptilia.
ences of number in the cervical, dorsal, or caudal vertebrae. k*
When any region of the vertebral column presents an unusual
excess of development in a genus, such region is more liable to vari¬
ation, within certain limits, than in genera where its proportions
are more normal. The differences of the number of cervical and
dorsal vertebrae, ranging between 29 and 31 in the Plesiosaurus
Hawkinsii, e.g.—ns noted in the description of that species in
the writer’s Report on British Fossil Reptiles, 1839, indicate the
range of variety observed in the only species of which, at that time,
the vertebral column of different individuals could be compared.
Genus Pliosaurus, Ow.—M. von Meyer regards the number of
cervical vertebrae and the length of neck as characters of prime
importance in the classification of Reptilia, and founds thereon his
order called Macrotrachelen, in which he includes Simosaurus, Pis¬
tosaurus, and Nothosaurus, with Plesiosaurus. No doubt the number
of vertebrae in the same skeleton bears a certain relation to ordinal
groups : the Ophidia find a common character therein ; yet it is not
their essential character, for the snake-like form, dependent on
multiplied vertebrae, characterizes equally certain Batrachians
(Ccecilia) and fishes (Murana). Certain regions of the vertebral
column are the seats of great varieties in the same natural group
of Reptilia. We have long-tailed and short-tailed lizards ; but do
not therefore separate those with numerous caudal vertebrae, as
“ Macroura,” from those with few or more. The extinct Bolich-
saurus of the Kentish chalk, with its proccelian vertebrae, cannot be
ordinarily separated, by reason of its more numerous cervical ver¬
tebrae, from other shorter-necked proccelian lizards. .As little can
we separate the short-necked and big-headed amphiccelian .Plio-
saur from the Macrotrachelians with which it has its most intimate
and true affinities.
There is much reason, indeed, to suspect that some ol the
muschelkalk Saurians, which are as closely allied to Nothosaurus
as Pliosaurus is to Plesiosaurus, may have presented analogous modi¬
fications in the number and proportions of the cervical vertebrae.
It is hardly possible to contemplate the broad and short-snouted
skull of the Simosaurus, with its proportionally large teeth, without
inferring that such a head must have been supported by a shorter
and more powerful neck than that which bore the long and slender
head of the Nothosaurus or Pistosaurus. The like inference is more
strongly impressed upon the mind by the skull of the Placodus,
still shorter and broader than that of Simosaurus, and with vastly
larger teeth, of a shape indicative of their adaptation to crushing
molluscous or crustaceous shells.
Neither the proportions and armature of the skull of Placodus,
nor the mode of obtaining the food indicated by its cranial and
dental characters, permit the supposition that the head was sup¬
ported by other than a comparatively short and strong neck. Yet
the composition of the skull, its proportions, cavities, and other
light-giving anatomical characters, all bespeak the close essential
relationship of Placodus to Simosaurus and other so-called “macro-
trachelian” reptiles of the muschelkalk beds. The writer continues,
therefore, to regard the fin-like modification of the limbs as a better
ordinal character than the number of vertebrse in any particular
region of the spine. But whilst retaining the term Enaliosauna
for the large extinct natatory group of saurian reptiles, the essen¬
tial distinctness of the groups Sauropterygii and Ichyopterygn, ty\n-
fied by the Ichthyosaurus and Plesiosaurus respectively, should be
borne in mind.
Sp. Pliosaurus brachydeirus, Ow.—The generic characters ot
Pliosaurus are given by the teeth and the cervical vertebras. s
compared with those of Plesiosaurus, the teeth are thicker in pro¬
portion to their length, are subtrihedral in transverse section, with
one side flattened, and bounded by lateral prominent ridges from
Fig. 73.
Pliosaurus (Kimmeridgian).
the more convex sides, which are rounded off into each other, ana
alone show the longitudinal ridges of the enamel; these are there
very well defined. The vertebra of the neck, presenting a flat
Yon Meyer, Muschelkalk Saurier,
FALCON
Keptilia. articular surface of the shape shown in outline below the neck in
. y fig. 73, are so compressed from before backward as to resemble the
vertebrae of the Ichthyosaurus, and as many as twelve may be com¬
pressed within the short neck intervening between the skull and
scapular arch, as shown in fig. 73. For the rest, save in the more
massive proportions of the jaws and paddle-bones, the bony frame¬
work of Pliosaurus closely accords with that of Plesiosaurus; and,
as the vertebrae of the trunk resume the plesiosaurian proportions,
they give little indication of the genus of reptile to which they
truly belong, when found detached and apart. Some individuals
of Pliosaurus appear to have attained a bulk of between 30 and 40
feet. The remains of this modified form of Enaliosaur are peculiar
T O L O G Y. 149
to the Oxfordian and Kimmeridgian divisions of the upper oolitic Reptilia.
system. They have been discovered in these beds in Russia [Plio- i ^ t
saurus Worinskii and Spondylosaurus of Fischer), as well as in those
counties of England where the Kimmeridge and Oxford clays have
been deposited.
Sub-order 2.—Ichthyopterygia.
Genus Ichthyosaurus.—The name (from the Greek ichthys, a
fish, and sauros, a lizard) was devised to indicate the closer affinity
of the Ichthyosaur, as compared with the Plesiosaur, to the class
of fishes. The Ichthyosaur (fig. 74) is remarkable for the shortness
Fig. 74.
Ichthyosaurus (Lias).
of the neck and the equality of the width of the back of the head
with the front of the chest, impressing the observer of the fossil
skeleton with a conviction that the ancient animal must have re¬
sembled the whale tribe and the fishes, in the absence of any
intervening constriction or “ neck.”
This close approximation in the Ichthyosaurs to the form of the
most strictly aquatic vertebrate animals of the existing creation,
is accompanied by an important modification of the surfaces form¬
ing the joints of the back-bone, each of which surfaces are hollow,
leading to the inference that they were originally connected to¬
gether by an elastic bag or “ capsule” filled with fluid,—a struc¬
ture which prevails in the class of fishes, in the Labyrinthodonts
and a few extinct aquatic reptiles, in the existing perennibranchiate
Batrachia, but not in any of the whale or porpoise tribe.
With the above modifications of the head, trunk, and limbs, in
relation to swimming, there co-exist corresponding modifications of
the tail. The bones of this part are much more numerous than in
the Plesiosaurs, and the entire tail is consequently longer ; but it
does not show any of those modifications that characterize the bony
support of the tail in fishes. The numerous “ caudal vertebrae” of
the Ichthyosaurus gradually decrease in size to the end of the tail,
where they assume a compressed form, or are flattened from side
to side, and thus the tail, instead of being short and broad as in
fishes, is lengthened out as in crocodiles.
The very frequent occurrence of a fracture of the tail, about one-
fourth of the way from its extremity, in well preserved and entire
fossil skeletons, is owing to that proportion of the end of the tail
having supported a tail fin. The only evidence which the fossil
skeleton of a whale would yield of the powerful horizontal tail-fin
characteristic of the living animal, is the depressed or horizontally-
flattened form of the bones supporting such fin. It is inferred,
therefore, from the corresponding bones of the Ichthyosaurus being
flattened in the vertical direction, or from side to side, that it pos¬
sessed a tegumentary tail fin expanded in the vertical direction.
The shape of a fin composed of such perishable material is of course
conjectural, as is the outline in fig. 74. Thus, in the construction
of the principal swimming organ of the Ichthyosaurus we may trace,
as in other parts of its structure, a combination of mammalian
(beast-like), saurian (lizard-like), and piscine (fish-like) peculiari¬
ties. In the great length and gradual diminution of the tail we
perceive its saurian character ; in the tegumentary nature of the
fin, unsustained by bony fin-rays, its affinity to the same part in
the mammalian whales and porpoises is shown; whilst its vertical
position makes it closely resemble the tail fin of the fish.
The horizontality of the tail fin of the whale tribe is essentially
connected with their necessities as warm-blooded animals breathing
atmospheric air; without this means of displacing a mass of water
in the vertical direction, the head of the whale could not be brought
with the required rapidity to the surface to respire; but the Ich¬
thyosaurs, not being warm-blooded or quick breathers, would not
need to bring their head to the surface so frequently or so rapidly
as the whale ; and moreover a compensation for the want of hori¬
zontality of their tail fin was provided by the addition of a pair of
hind paddles, which are not present in the whale tribe. The ver¬
tical fin was a more efficient organ in the rapid cleaving of the
liquid element, when the Ichthyosaurs were in pursuit of their prey
or escaping from an enemy.
The general form of the cranium of the Ichthyosaurus resembles
that of the ordinary cetaceous dolphin (Delphinus tursio) ; but the
I. tenuirostris rivals the Delphinus gangeticus in the length and
slenderness of the jaws. The essential difference in the sea-reptile
lies in the restricted size of the cerebral cavity, and the vast depth
and breadth of the zygomatic arches, to which the seeming expanse
of the cranium is due; still more in the persistent individuality of
the elements of those cranial bones which have been blended into
single though compound bones in the sea-mammal. The Ichthyo¬
saurus further differs in the great size of the premaxillary and
small size of the maxillary bones, in the lateral aspects of the nos¬
trils, in the immense size of the orbits, and in the large and nume¬
rous sclerotic plates, which latter structures give to the skull of the
Ichthyosaurus its most striking features.
The true affinities of the Ichthyosaur are, however, to be eluci¬
dated by a deeper and more detailed comparison of the structure of
the skull; and few collections now afford richer materials for pur¬
suing and illustrating such comparisons than the palaeontological
series in the British Museum.1 The two supplemental bones of the
skull, which have no homologues in existing Crocodilians, are the
post-orbital and super-squamosal; both, however, are developed in
Archegosaurus and the Labyrinthodonts. The post-orbital is the
homologue of the inferior division of the post-frontal in those La-
certians—e.g., Iguana, Tejus, Ophisaurus, Anguis, in which that
bone is said to be divided. But in Ichthyosaurus the post-orbital
resembles most a dismemberment of the malar. Its thin obtuse
scale-like lower end overlaps and joins by a squamous suture the
hind end of the malar: the post-orbital expands as it ascends to
the middle of the back of the orbit, then gradually contracts to a
point as it curves upward and forward, articulating with the super-
squamosal and post-frontal. The super-squamosal may be in like
manner regarded as a dismemberment of the squamosal; were it
confluent therewith, the resemblance which the bone would present
to the zygomatic and squamosal parts of the mammalian temporal
would be very close; only the squamosal part would be removed
from the inner wall to the outer wall of the temporal fossa. The
super-squamosal, in fact, occupies the position of the temporal
fascia in Mammalia, and should be regarded as a supplemental
eclero-dermal plate, closing the vacuity between the upper and
lower elements of the zygomatic arch, peculiar to certain air-
breathing Ovipara. It is abroad, thin, flat, irregular-shaped plate,
smooth and slightly convex externally, and wedged into the inter¬
spaces between the post-frontal, post-orbital, squamosal, tympanic,
and mastoid.
The principal vacuities or apertures in the bony walls of the
skull of the Ichthyosaurus are the following:—In the posterior
region the “ foramen magnum,” the occipito-parietal vacuities, and
1 The anatomical reader is referred to the writer’s “ Report on British Fossil Reptiles,” Trans. Brit. Assoc. 1839, and to the Annals and
Magazine of Natural History, 1858, p. 388.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
150
lleptilia. the auditory passages; on the upper surface the parietal foramen
t , , and the temporal fossae; on the lateral surfaces the orbits and nos¬
trils, the plane of the aperture in both being vertical; on the infe¬
rior surface the palato-nasal, the pterygo-sphenoid, and the pterygo-
malar vacuities. The occipito-parietal vacuities are larger than in
Crocodilia, smaller than in Lacertilia; they are bounded internally
by the basi-, ex-, and super-occipitals, externally by the parietal
and mastoid. The auditory apertures are bounded by the tympanic
and squamosal. The tympanic takes a greater share in the forma¬
tion of the “ meatus auditorius” in many lizards; in crocodiles it
is restricted to that which it takes in Ichthyosaurus.
The orbit is most remarkable in the Ichthyosaurus, amongst rep¬
tiles, both for its large proportional size and its posterior position;
in the former character it resembles that in the lizards, in the latter
that in the crocodiles. It is formed by the pre- and post-frontals
above, by the lacrymal in front, by the post-orbital behind, and by
the peculiar long and slender malar bar below. In crocodiles and
in most lizards the frontal enters into the formation of the orbits,
and in lizards the maxillary also. The nostril is a longish trian¬
gular aperture, with the narrow base behind ; it is bounded by the
lacrymal, nasal, maxillary, and pre-maxillary. It is proportionally
larger than in the Plesiosaurus, and is distant from the orbit about
half its own long diameter. Like the orbit, the plane of its outlet
is vertical.
The ptery go-palatine vacuities are very long and narrow, broadest
behind, where they are bounded, as in lizards, by the anterior con¬
cavities of the basi-sphenoid, and gradually narrowing to a point
close to the palatine nostrils. These are smaller than in most
lizards, and are circumscribed by the palatines, ecto-pterygoid,
maxillary, and pre-maxillary. The pterygo-malar fissures are the
lower outlets of the temporal fossae ; their sudden posterior breadth,
due to the eraargination of the pterygoid, relates to the passage of
the muscles for attachment to the lower jaw. The parietal foramen
is bounded by both parietals and frontals; its presence is a mark
of labyrinthodont and lacertian affinities; its formation is like that
in Iguana and Rhynchocephalus. The temporal fossae are bounded
above by the parietal internally, by the mastoid and post-frontal
externally; they are of an oval form, with the great end forward.
In their relative size and backward position they are more croco¬
dilian than lacertian.
In the Ichthyosaurus communis there are seventeen sclerotic plates
forming the fore part of the eyeball. In a well-preserved example,
the pupillary or corneal vacuity, as bounded by those plates, is of
a full oval form, l£ inch in long diameter, the length of the plates
(or breadth of the frame) being from 8 to 10 lines. In the same
skull the long diameter of the orbit is 4 inches. The deep posi¬
tion of the sclerotic circle in this cavity showed how they had sunk,
by pressure of the external mud, as the eyeball became collapsed
by escape of the humours in decomposition.
Whenever the antecedent forms an extinct genus of any class
are known, the characters of such genus should be compared with
those of its predecessors rather than with its successors or with
existing forms, in order to gain an insight into its true affinities.
We derive a truer conception of the affinities of the Ichthyosaurus
by comparison with the Labyrinthodonts and other triassic reptiles,
as we do of the Plesiosaurus by comparison with the muschelkalk
Sauropterygia, than of either by comparison with modern Lacertians
and Crocodilians. It is commonly said that the Ichthyo- or the Plesio¬
saurus resembles more the lizards in such and such characters,
and in a less degree the crocodiles, as in such a character. The
truer expression would be that the lizards, which are the predo¬
minating form of Saurians at the present day, have retained more
of the osteological type of the triassic and oolitic reptiles, and that
the crocodiles deviate further from them or exhibit a more modi¬
fied or specialized structure. The posterior position of the nostrils,
the small size and position of the palato-pterygoid foramen, are
marks of affinity to Plesiosaurus, in common with which genus the
cranial structure of the Ichthyosaurus exhibits a majority of lacer-
Uain comparing the jaws of the Ichthyosaurus termirostris with those
of the gangetic Gharrial an equal degree of strength and of alveolar
border for teeth result from two very different proportions in winch
the maxillary and premaxillary bones are combined together to
form the upper jaw. The prolongation of the snout has evidently
no relation to this difference; and we are accordingly led to look
for some other explanation of the disproportionate development of
the premaxillaries in the Ichthyosaurus. It appears to me to give
additional proof of the collective tendency of the affinities of the
Ichthyosaurus to the lacertian type of structure. The backward
or antorbital position of the nostrils, like that in whales, is related
to their marine existence. But in the Lacertians in which the nos¬
trils extend to the fore part of the head, their anterior boundaries
are formed by the premaxillaries: it appears, therefore, to be in
conformity with the lacertian affinities of the Ichthyosaur that the
premaxillaries should still enter in the same relation with the Reptilia.
nostrils, although this involves an extent of anterior development y
proportionate to the length of the jaws, the forward production
of which sharp-toothed instruments fitted them, as in the mo¬
dern dolphins, for the prehension of agile fishes.
That the Ichthyosaurs occasionally sought the shores, crawled on
the strand, and basked in the sunshine, may be inferred from the
bony structure connected with their fore fins, which does not exist
in any porpoise, dolphin, grampus, and whale; and for want of
which, chiefly, those warm-blooded, air-breathing, marine animals
are so helpless when left high and dry on the sands. The struc¬
ture in question in the Ichthyosaur is a strong osseous arch, in¬
verted and spanning across beneath the chest from one shoulder-
joint to the other; and what is most remarkable in the structure
of this “ scapular” arch is, that it closely resembles, in the number,
shape, and disposition of its bones, the same part in the singular
aquatic mammalian quadruped of Australia, called Ornithorynchus,
and Platypus, or duck-mole. The Ichthyosaur, when so visiting
the shore' either for sleep or procreation, would lie or crawl pro¬
strate, or with its belly resting or dragging on the ground.
The most extraordinary feature of the head was the enormous
magnitude of the eye : and from the quantity of light admitted by
the expanded pupil, it must have possessed great powers of vision,
especially in the dusk. It is not uncommon to find in front of the
orbit in fossil skulls, a circular series of petrified thin bony plates,
ranged round a central aperture, where the pupil of the eye was
placed. The eyes of many fishes are defended by a bony covering
consisting of two pieces ; but a compound circle of overlapping
plates is now found only in the eyes of turtles, tortoises, lizards,
and birds. This curious apparatus of bony plates would aid in
protecting the eye-ball from the waves of the sea when the Ichthyo¬
saurus rose to the surface, and from the pressure of the dense
element when it dived to great depths ; and they show, writes Dr
Buckland {Bridgewater Treatise) “ that the enormous eye of which
they formed the front, was an optical instrument of varied and
prodigious power, enabling the Ichthyosaurus to descry its prey at
great or little distances, in the obscurity of night, and in the depths
of the sea.”
Of no extinct species are the materials for a complete and exact
restoration more abundant and satisfactory than of the Ichthyo¬
saurus ; they plainly show that its general external figure must
have been that of a huge predatory abdominal fish, with a longer
tail and a smaller tail-fin; scaleless, moreover, and covered by a
smooth or finely wrinkled skin, analogous to that of the whale
tribe.
The mouth was wide, and the jaws long, and armed with nume¬
rous pointed teeth, indicative of a predatory and carnivorous nature
in all the species; but these differed from one another in regard to
the relative strength of the jaws, and the relative size and length
of the teeth. _
Masses of masticated bones and scales of extinct fishes that lived
in the same seas and at the same period as the Ichthyosaurus, have
been found under the ribs of fossil specimens, in the situation where
the stomach of the animal was placed; smaller, harder, and more
digested masses, containing also fish-bones and scales have been
found, bearing the impression of the structure of the internal sur¬
face of the intestine of the great predatory sea-lizard. One of
these “ Coprolites” is figured beneath the skeleton in fig. 74.
In tracing the evidences of creative power from the earlier to
the later formations of the earth’s crust, remains of the Ichthyosaurus
are first found in the lower lias, and occur more or less abundantly
through all the superincumbent secondary strata up to, and inclu¬
sive of, the chalk formations. They are most numerous in the lias
and oolite, and the largest and most characteristic species have
been found in these formations.
More than thirty species of Ichthyosaurus are known to the
writer, many of which have been described or defined.
Order V.—Dinosatjria.
Char.—Cervical and anterior dorsal vertebrae, with par- and di¬
apophyses, articulating with bifurcate ribs; dorsal vertebrae,
with a neural platform, sacral vertebrae exceeding two in num¬
ber ; body supported on four strong unguiculate limbs.
The well-ossified vertebrae, large and hollow limb-bones, and
tritrochanterian femora of the thecodont reptiles of the Bristol
conglomerate, together with the structure of the sacral vertebrae
in the allied Belodon, indicate the beginning, at the triassic period,
of an order of Reptilia which acquired its full development and
typical characteristics in the oolitic period.
Genus Scelidosaurus, Ow.—By this name is indicated a Saurian
with large and hollow limb-bones, with a femur having the third
inner trochanter, and with metacarpal and phalangial bones,
PALEONTOLOGY.
151
adapted for movement on land. The fossils occur in the lias at
Charmouth, Dorsetshire.
Genus Megalosaurus, Bkld.—The true dinosaurian characters
of this reptile have been established by the discovery of the sacrum,
which consists of five vertebrae, interlocked by the alternating posi¬
tion of neural arch and centrum. The articular surfaces of the free
vertebrae are nearly flat; the neural arch develops a platform which
in the anterior dorsals supports very long and strong spines. The
dental characters are described and figured in the article Odonto¬
logy, vol. xvi., p. 433, fig. 48.
The oldest known beds from which any remains of Megalosaurus
have been obtained are the lower oolites at Selsby Hill, and Chip-
ping-Norton, Gloucestershire. Abundant and characteristic re¬
mains occur in the Stonesfield slate, Oxfordshire. Teeth of the
Megalosaurus have been found in the Cornbrash and Bath oolite ;
both teeth and bones are common in the Wealden strata and Pur-
beck limestone. Some of these fossils indicate a reptile of at least
30 feet in length.
Genus Hyl^OSAURUS, Mtll. —Remains of the Dinosaurian so
called have hitherto been found only in Wealden strata, as at
Tilgate, Bolney, and Battle. The most instructive evidence is
that which was exposed by the quarrymen of the Wealden stone
at Tilgate, and obtained and described by Mantell in 1832. It
consisted of a block of stone measuring 4J feet by 2J feet (fig.
75), and included the following parts of the skeleton in almost
Fig. 75.
Hylceosaurus (Wealden).
natural juxtaposition :—io, Anterior vertebrae, the first sup¬
porting part of the base of the skull; several ribs, 4, 4; some
enormous dermal bony spines, 5, 6, 6, which supported a strong
defensive crest along the back ; two coracoids, 7, 7 ; scapulae, 8, 8 ;
and some detached vertebrae and fragments of bones. The sacrum
was dinosaurian, and included five vertebrae.
The teeth were relatively small, close-set, thecodont in implanta¬
tion, with subcylindrical fang and a subcompressed slightly ex¬
panded and incurved crown, with the borders straight, and con¬
verging to the blunt apex. They indicate rather a mixed or
vegetable diet than a carnivorous one. The skin was defended by
subcircular bony scales. The length of the Hylaeosaur may have
been 25 feet.
Genus Iguanodon, Mtll.— Remains of these large herbivorous
reptiles have been found in Wealden and neocomian (greensand)
strata. Femora, 4 feet in length, showing the third inner tro¬
chanter, have been discovered. The sacrum included five, and in
old animals six vertebrae ; the claw-bones are broad, flat, and ob¬
tuse. There were only three well-developed toes on the hind foot,
and singular large tridactyle impressions, discovered by Beccles
in the Wealden at Hastings have been conjectured to have been
made by the Iguanodon. The characteristic dentition of this genus
is described in the article Odontology, p. 435, figs. 42, 43, and
44. All trace of dinosaurian reptiles disappears in the lower
cretaceous beds.
Order VI.—Pterosauria.
The species of this order of reptiles are extinct, and peculiar to
the mezozoic period. Their chief characteristic is the development
of the pectoral limbs into organs of flight (fig. 76). This is due to
an elongation of the antibrachial bones, and more especially to the
still greater length of the metacarpal and phalangial bones of the
fifth or innermost digit (fig. 76, 5), the last phalanx of which ter¬
minates in a point. The other fingers were of more ordinary
length and size, and terminated by claws. The number of phalanges
is progressive from the first (fig. 76, 1) to the fourth (4), which is
a reptilian character. The whole osseous system is modified in
accordance with the possession of wings; the bones are light, hol¬
low, most of them permeated by air-cells, with thin compact outer
walls. The scapula and coracoid are long and narrow, but strong.
The vertebrae of the neck are few, but large and strong, for the
support of a large head with long jaws, armed with sharp-pointed
teeth. The skull was lightened by large vacuities, of which one
(o, fig. 76) is interposed between the nostril n and the orbit l. The
Reptilia.
vertebrae of the back are small, and grow less to the tail. Those of
the sacrum are few and small, and the pelvis and weak hind limbs
bespeak a creature unable to stand and walk like a bird. The body
must have been dragged along the ground like that of a bat. But
the Pterosauria may have been good swimmers as well as flyers.
The vertebral bodies unite by ball-and-socket joints, the cup being
anterior, and in them we have the earliest manifestation of the
“ proccelian ” type of vertebra. The atlas consists of a discoid cen¬
trum, and of two slender neuropophyses ; the centrum of the axis
is ten times longer than that of the atlas, with which it ultimately
coalesces; it sends off from its under and back part a pair of pro¬
cesses, above which is transversely extended convexity articulating
with the third cervical vertebra. In each vertebra there is a large
pneumatic foramen at the middle of the side. The neural arch is
confluent with the centrum. Dentition thecodont.
Genus Dimorphodon, Ow.
Sp. Dimorphodon macronyx, Bkd.—The Pterodactyles are dis¬
tributed into sub-genera, according to well-marked modifications of
the jaws and teeth. In the oldest known species, from the lias, the
teeth are of two kinds; a few at the fore part of the jaws are long,
large, sharp-pointed, with a full elliptical base; behind them is a
close-set row of short, compressed, very small lancet-shaped-teeth.
In a specimen of Dimorphodon macronyx, from the lower lias of
Lyme Regis, the skull was 8 inches long, and the expanse of
wing about 4 feet. There is no evidence of this species having
had a long tail.
Genus Ramphorhynchds, Von Meyer.—In this genus the fore
part of each jaw is without teeth, and may have been encased by a
horny beak, but behind the edentulous production there are four or
five large and long teeth, followed by several smaller ones. The
tail is long, stiff, and slender.
The Ramphorhynchus longicandus, R. Gemmingi, and R. Munsteri
belong to this genus. All are from the lithographic (middle
oolitic) slates of Bavaria.
Genus Pterodactylus, Cuv.—The jaws are provided with teeth
to their extremities; all the teeth are long, slender, sharp-pointed,
set well apart. The tail is very short.
P. longirostris, Ok.—About 10 inches in length ; from litho¬
graphic slate at Pappenheim. P. crassirostris, Goldf.—About 1
foot long ; same locality (fig. 76.) P. Kochii, Wagn.—8 inches
long ; from the lithographic slates of Kehlheim. P. medius, Mnst.—
10 inches long; from the lithographic slates at Meulenhard. P.
152
Reptilia.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
based upon more or less of the anterior trunk vertebrae being Reptilia.
united by ball-and-socket joints, but having the ball in front, in-
stead of, as in modern crocodiles, behind. Cuvier first pointed out
this peculiarity3 in a Crocodilian from the Oxfordian beds at Hon-
fleur, and the Kimmeridgian at Havre. The writer has described
similar opisthocoelian vertebrae from the great oolite at Chipping
Norton, from the upper lias of Whitby, and, but of much larger
size, from the Wealden formations of Sussex and the Isle of Wight.
These specimens probably belong, as suggested by the writer in
1841,4 to the fore part of the same vertebral column as the vertebrae,
flat at the fore part, and slightly hollow behind, on which he
founded the genus Cetiosaurus. The smaller opisthoccelian vertebrae
described by Cuvier have been referred by Von Meyer to a genus
called Streptospondylus.
In one species from the Wealden, dorsal vertebrae measuring 8
inches across are only 4 inches in length, and caudal vertebrae
nearly 7 inches across are less than 4 inches in length. These
characterize the species called Cetiosaurus brevis.5
Caudal vertebrae measuring 7 inches across and inches in
length, from the lower oolite at Chipping Norton, and the great
oolite at Enstone, represent the species called Cetiosaurus medius.
Caudal vertebrae from the Portland stone at Garsington, Oxford¬
shire, measuring 7 inches 9 lines across and 7 inches in length, are
referred to the Cetiosaurus longus. The latter must have been the
most gigantic whale-like of Crocodilians, unless it were equalled in
bulk by the Polyptychodon of the chalk.
grandis, Cuv.—14 inches long ; from lithographic slates of Solen-
hofen. Two small and probably immature Pterodactyles, showing
the short jaws characteristic of such immaturity, have been entered
as species under the names of P. brevirostris and P. Meyeri. The
latter shows the circle of sclerotic eye-plates.
The fragmentary remains of Pterodactyle from British oolite,—
e.g., Stonesfield slate, usually entered as Pterodactylus Bucklandi,—
indicate a species about the size of a raven.
The evidences of Pterodactyles from the Wealden strata indicate
species about 16 inches in length of body. Those (P. Fittoni, and
P. Sedgwickii, Ow.) from the greensand formation, near Cambridge,
with neck-vertebrae 2 inches long, and humeri measuring 3
inches across the proximal joint, had a probable expanse of wing
of from 18 to 20 feet. The P. Cuvieri, Ow., and P. compressirostris,
Ow., from the chalk of Kent, attained dimensions very little in¬
ferior to those of the greensand Pterodactyles.
More evidence is yet needed for the establishment of the ptero-
saurian genus, on the alleged character of but two phalanges in
the wing-finger, and for which the term “ Ornithopterus” has been
proposed by Von Meyer.
With regard to the range of this remarkable order of flying
reptiles in geological time, the oldest well-known Pterodactyle
is the Dimorphodon macronyx, of the lower lias; but bones of
Pterodactyle have been discovered in the coeval lias of Wirtemberg.
The next in point of age is the Ramphorhynchus Banthensis, from
the “ Posidonomyen-schiefer ” of Banz in Bavaria, answering to
the alum shale of the Whitby lias; then follows the P. Bucklandi
from the Stonesfield oolite. Above this come the first-defined and
numerous species of Pterodactyle from the lithographic slates of
the middle oolitic system in Germany, and from Cirin, on the
Rhone. The Pterodactyles of the Wealden are as yet known to
us by only a few bones and bone fragments. The largest known
species are those from the greensand of Cambridgeshire. Finally,
the Pterodactyles of the middle chalk of Kent, almost as remark¬
able for their great size, constitute the last forms of flying reptile
known in'the history of the crust of this earth.
Order VII.—Crocodilia.
Char.—Teeth in a single row, implanted in distinct sockets, ex¬
ternal nostril single and terminal or sub-terminal. Anterior
trunk vertebrae with par- and di-apophyses, and bifurcate ribs ;
sacral vertebrae two, each supporting its own neural arch. Skin
protected by bony, usually pitted plates.
Sub-order 1.—Amphiccela.1
Crocodiles closely resembling in general form the long and
slender-jawed kind of the Ganges called Gavial, existed from
the time of the deposition of the lower lias.
Their teeth were similarly long, slender, and sharp, adapted for
the prehension of fishes, and their skeleton was modified for more
efficient progress in water by the vertebral surfaces being slightly
concave, by the hind limbs being relatively larger and stronger,
and by the orbits forming no prominent obstruction to progress
through water. From the nature of the deposits containing the
remains of the so-modified crocodiles, they were marine. The fossil
crocodile from the Whitby lias, described and figured in the Philo¬
sophical Transactions, 1758, p. 688, is the type of these amphiccelian
species. They have been grouped under the following generic
heads :—Teleosaurus, Steneosaurus, Mystriosaurus, Macrospondylus,
Massospondylus, to which must be added Pcecilopleuron, Pelago-
saurus, FEolodon, Suchosaurus, Qoniopholis, Polyptychodon.
Species of the above genera range from the lias to the chalk
inclusive.
Suchosaurus of the Wealden is characterized hy the compressed
crown and trenchant margins of the teeth; Qoniopholis, of the Pur-
beck beds, by some of the dermal scales having the same peg-and-
pit interlocking as in the scales of the ganoid fish in fig. 52;
Polyptychodon of the greensand and chalk, by the well-defined
numerous longitudinal ridges of the enamel; from the size of some
of these teeth, this crocodile, like the Pterodactyles of the same
period, appears to have been the largest of its group; it surpassed
all other Amphiccelians in size.
Sub-order 2.—Opisthoccelia.2
The small group of Crocodilia so called is an artificial one,
Sub-order 3.—PROCffiLiA.6
Crocodilians with cup-and-ball vertebrae, like those of living spe¬
cies, first make their appearance in the greensand of North America
(Crocodilus basijissus and C. basitruncatus). In Europe their remains
are first found in the tertiary strata. Such remains from the plastic
clay of Meudon have been referred to C. isorhynchus, C. ccelorhyn-
chus, C. Becquereli. In the calcaire grossier of Argenton and Castel-
naudry have been found the C. Rallinati and C. Dodunii. In the
coeval eocene London clay at Sheppy Island the entire skull and
characteristic parts of the skeleton of C. toliapicus and C. Champ-
soides occur. In the somewhat later eocene beds at Bracklesham
occur the remains of the gavial-like C. Dixoni. In the Hordle beds
have been found the C. Hastingsice, with short and broad jaws; and
also a true alligator (C. Hantoniensis). It is remarkable that forms
of procoelian Crocodilia, now geographically restricted—the gavial
to Asia, and the alligator to America—should have been associated
with true crocodiles, and represented by species which lived, during
nearly the same geological period, in rivers flowing over what now
forms the south coast of England.
Many species of procoelian Crocodilia have been founded on fossils
from miocene and pliocene tertiaries. One of these, of the gavial
sub-genus (C. crassidens'), from the Sewalik tertiary, was of gigantic
dimensions.
Order VIII.—Lacertilia.
Char.—Vertebrae procoelian, with a single transverse process on
each side, and with single-headed ribs; sacral vertebrae not ex¬
ceeding two.
Small vertebrae of this type have been found in the Wealden of
Sussex. They are more abundant, and are associated with other
generic characteristic parts of the species, in the cretaceous strata.
On such evidence have been based the Raphiosaurus subulidens, the
Coniasaurus crassidens, and the Dolichosaurus longicollis. The last-
named species is remarkable for the length and slenderness of its
trunk and neck, indicative of a tendency to the ophidian form. But
the most remarkable and extreme modification of the lacertian type
in the cretaceous period is that manifested by the huge species, of
which a cranium 5 feet long was discovered in the upper chalk
of St Peter’s Mount, near Maestricht, in 1780. The vertebrae are
gently concave in front, and convex behind; there are thirty-four
between the head and the base of the tail: a sacrum seems to have
been wanting. The caudal vertebrae have long neural and haemal
spines, both of which arches coalesce with the centrum, and formed
the basis of a powerful swimming tail. The teeth are anchylosed
to eminences along the alveolar border of the jaw, according to the
acrodont type. There is a row of small teeth on each pterygoid
bone. For this genus of huge marine lizard the name Mosasaurus
has been proposed. Besides the M. Hofmanii of Maestricht, there
1 Amphi, both, koilos, hollow; the vertebra being hollowed at both ends. __ __ .
2 Opisthos, behind, koilos, hollow ; vertebra concave behind, convex in front. 3 Annales du Museum, tom. xii., p. 83, pi. x., xi.
4 “ Report on British Fossil Reptiles,” Trans. Brit. Assoc, for 1841, p. 96. _ _
5 They have since been referred to the dinosaurian order under the name of Pelorosaurus, but without any evidence of the true sacra
characters of that order; the cavities of long bones are common to Crocodilians and Dinosaurs.
6 Pros, front, koilos, hollow ; vertebra with the cup at the fore part and the ball behind.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
153
is a M. Maximiliani, from the cretaceous beds of North America, and
a smaller species, M. gracilis, from the chalk of Sussex. The Leio-
don anceps of the Norfolk chalk was a nearly allied marine Lacer-
tian. Many small terrestrial Lacertians have left their remains in
European tertiary formations.
Order IX.—Ophidia.
[Serpents.')
The earliest evidence of an ophidian reptile has been obtained
from the eocene clay at Sheppy : it consists of vertebrae indicating
a serpent of 12 feet in length, the Pahxophis toliapicus. Still larger,
more numerous, and better preserved vertebrae have been obtained
from the eocene beds at Bracklesham, on which the Palceophis
typhceus and P. porcatus have been founded. These remains indi¬
cate a boa-constrictor-like snake, of about 20 feet in length. Ophi¬
dian vertebrae of much smaller size, from the newer eocene at
Hordwell, support the species called Paleryx rhombifer and P. de-
pressus. Fossil vertebrae from a tertiary formation near Salonica
have been referred to a serpent, probably poisonous, under the
name of Laophis. A species of true viper has been discovered in
the miocene deposits at Sansans, South of France. Three fossil
Ophidians from the (Eningen slate have been referred to Coluber
arenatus, C. Kargii, and C. Owenii.
Eeptilia.
Order X.—Chelonia.
[Tortoises and Turtles.)
Reference has already been made to the impressions in sand¬
stones of triassic age in Dumfriesshire, referred by Dr Duncan to
tortoises. These impressions have been finely illustrated in the
great work by Sir William Jardine on the foot-prints at Corn¬
cockle Muir. The earliest proof of chelonian life which the writer
has obtained has been afforded by the skull of the Chelone planiceps,
from the Portland stone; and by the carapace and plastron of the
extinct and singularly-modified emydian genera Tretosternon and
Pleurosternon1 (fig. 77). In the first genus the plastron retains the
central vacuity; in the second genus an additional pair of bones is
interposed between the hyosternals [hs) and hyposternals [ps). In
the specimen figured (fig. 77), the plastron, and the under surface
Fig. 77.
Pleurosternon emarginatum (Purbeck).
of the marginal pieces (2 to 12) of the carapace, of Pleurosternon
em'xrginatum are shown. This fine Chelonite is now in the British
Museum.
True marine turtles [Chelone Camperi, C. obovata, C. pulchri-
ceps) have left their remains in cretaceous beds. The emydian
Protemys is from the greensand near Maidstone. The eocene ter¬
tiary deposits of Britain yield rich evidences of marine, estuary,
and fresh-water tortoises. More species of true turtle have left
their remains in the London clay at the mouth of the Thames than
are now known to exist in the whole world ; and all the eocene
Chelones are extinct. One of them [C. gigas, Ow.) attained un¬
usual dimensions; the skull, now in the British Museum, measures
upwards of a foot across its back part.2 The estuary genus Trionyx
(soft turtle) is represented by many beautiful species in the upper
eocene at Hordwell; the fresh-water genera Emys and Platemys by
as many species both at Sheppy and Hordwell. In the pliocene
of (Eningen remains of a species of Chelydra have been discovered ;
this generic form is now confined to America. Remains of land-
tortoises [Testudo, Brong.) indicate several extinct species in the
miocene and pliocene formations of continental Europe. Strata of
like age in the Sewalik Hills have revealed the carapace of a tor¬
toise 20 feet in length; it is called by its discoverers, Cautley and
Falconer, Colossochelys atlas. The same locality has also afforded
the interesting evidence of a species of Emys [E. tectum, Gray)
having continued to exist from the (probably miocene) period of
the Sivatherium to the present day.
Order XI.—Batrachia.
It is only in tertiary and post-tertiary strata that extinct species,
referable to still existing genera or families of this order, have
been found. The reptiles with amphibian or batrachian charac¬
ters, of the carboniferous and triassic periods, combined those cha¬
racters with others which gave them distinctions of perhaps ordinal
value ; they illustrated, indeed, rather a retention of more general
cold-blooded vertebrate type, with concomitant piscine and saurian
features, than any near affinity with the more specially modified
reptilian forms to which the name Batrachia is given in zoological
catalogues of existing species.
Of the tailless or “ anourous” Batrachia, toads of extinct species
[Palasophrynos Gessneri and P. dissimilis) have been discovered in
the (Eningen beds ; and frogs, more abundantly, in both miocene
and pliocene deposits of France and Germany. Of the salamander
family, the most noted fossil is that which was referred, when first
di-covered at (Eningen in 1726, to the human species, as Homo
diluvii testis. Cuvier demonstrated its near affinities to the water-
salamander [Menopoma) of the United States : more recently a
living species of salamander has been discovered in Japan which
equals in size the fossil in question—Andrias Scheuzeri.
A retrospect of the foregoing outline of the paleontology of the
class of reptiles shows that, unlike that of fishes, it is now on the
wane; and that the period when Reptilia flourished under the
greatest diversity of forms, with the highest grade of structure,
and of the most colossal size, is the mezozoic. The manifestation
of the more generalized vertebrate structure is illustrated by the
affinities to ganoid fishes shown by the Ganocephala, Labyrintho-
dontia, and Ichthyosauria; by the affinities of the Pterosauria to
birds, and by the approximation of the Dinosauria to Mammals.
It is also shown by the combination of modern crocodilian and la-
certian characters in the Thecodonts and sauropterygianEnaliosaurs.
Even the Chelonia of the Purbeck period illustrate the same prin¬
ciple, by the more typical number of modified haemapophyses, or
abdominal ribs, entering into the composition of their plastron.
The diagram (fig. 78) gives a concise view of the geological rela¬
tions, or distribution in time, of the principal groups of the class
Reptilia. In the column opposite the right hand, the dark mark
shows that the ganocephalous group represented by the Archego-
saurus began, culminated, and ended in the carboniferous period.
The Labyrinthodonts, culminating in the trias, disappear at the
base of the oolitic system. Of the true Batrachia, those retaining
the tail appear to have been at their maximum during the upper
tertiary period, and to have begun to decline after that time;
whilst the tailless genera and species are most numerous and va¬
rious at the present day. The Ophidia resemble the Anoura, com¬
mencing in the older tertiary, and showing their maximum of de¬
velopment at the present day. The true procadian, and especially
the pleurodont lizards, commencing a little earlier in the chalk,
have also gone on increasing in number and variety of forms to
the present day. The acrodont group was represented by Mosa-
saurus, under the maximum of size, during the cretaceous period.
The Thecodonts have but the partial affinity to modern Lacertilia
which the Labyrinthodonts bear to the modern Batrachia. The
great ordinal groups of Enaliosauria, Pterosauria, and Dinosauria,
together with the amphi- and opistho-ccelian crocodiles, passed
1 Monograph of the Fossil Chelonian Reptiles of the Wealden and Purbeck Limestones, 4to, 1853, Pal aeon togra phi cal Societv.
The upper end of the femur from Sheppy, in t. xxix. of Monograph of Fossil Reptilia of the London Clay, Palaeontograi* hical Society
1850, belongs to this species.
YOL. XVII. ..
Reptilia.
154
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Aves.
away ere the tertiary time had dawned. The proccelian crocodiles
culminating in the lower and middle tertiary times are now on
the wane. Perhaps, also, the same might be said of the Chelonia,
in regard to the size of individuals, and number of species of cer¬
tain genera ; but the number of generic and subgeneric forms of
the order now existing, as compared with the known extinct ter¬
tiary forms, is signified by the same expansion of the black mark
as in the case of the lizards, serpents, frogs, and toads.
Aves.
Pliocene.
Miocene.
Eocene.
Cretaceous.
Wealden.
Oolite.
Lias.
Trias.
Permian.
Carboniferous.
Devonian.
Silurian.
Fig. 78.
Class II.—AVES.
Long before any evidence of birds from actual or recognisable
fossil remains is obtained in tracing the progress of life from the
oldest fossiliferous deposits upwards, we meet with indications of
their existence impressed in sandstones of the triassic or liassic
period.
These earliest evidences of the class are by foot-prints in some
former tidal shore, preserved in one or other of the ways explained
in the section “ Ichnology.” The fossil bones of birds have not
been found save in strata of much later date than the impressed
sandstones; and they are much more rare than the remains of
mammals, reptiles, and fishes, in any formations except the most
recent in certain limited localities,—e.g., New Zealand.
Sir C. Lyell has well remarked, that “ the powers of flight pos¬
sessed by most birds would insure them against perishing by nu¬
merous casualties to which quadrupeds are exposed during floods. ’
The same writer further argues, that “ if they chance to be drowned,
or to die when swimming on water, it will scarcely ever happen
that they will be submerged so as to become preserved in sedi¬
mentary deposits.” 1 It is true that the carcase of a floating bird
may not sink where it has died, but be carried far along the
stream : ultimately, however, if not devoured, its bones will sub¬
side when the soft parts have rotted, and both the compactness of
the osseous tissue, and the facts made known by the ornitholites of
the greensand near Cambridge, of the London clay at Sheppy, and
of the Montmartre eocene quarry-stone, show that they can be pre¬
served in the fossil state. The length of time during which the
carcase of a bird may float, doubtless exposes it the more to be
devoured, and so tends to make more scarce the fossil remains of
birds in sedimentary strata.
Certain it is that the major part of the remains of extinct birds
that have as yet been found are those of birds that were deprived
of the power of flight, and were organized to live on land.
The existence of birds at the triassic period in geology, or at the
time of the formation of sandstones which are certainly interme¬
diate between the lias and the coal, is indicated by abundant
evidences of foot-prints impressed upon those sandstones which
extend through a great part of the valley of the Connecticut River,
in Connecticut and Massachusetts, North America.
The foot-prints of birds are peculiar, and more readily distin¬
guishable than those of most other animals. Birds tread on the
toes only; these are articulated to a single metatarsal bone at
right angles equally to it, and they diverge more from each other,
and are less connected with each other, than in other animals, ex¬
cept as regards the web-footed order of birds.
Not more than three toes are directed forward :2 the fourth
when it exists, is directed backward, is shorter, usually rises higher
from the metatarsal, and takes less share in sustaining the super¬
incumbent weight. No two toes of the same foot in any bird have
the same number of joints. There is a constant numerical progres¬
sion in the number of phalanges (toe-joints), from the innermost
to the outermost toe. When the back toe exists, it is the inner¬
most of the four toes, and it has two phalanges, the next has three,
the third or middle of the front toes has four, and the outermost
has five phalanges. When the back toe is wanting, as in some
waders, and most wingless birds, the toes have three, four, and five
phalanges respectively. When the number of toes is reduced to
two, as in the ostrich, their phalanges are respectively four and
five in number; thus showing those toes to answer to the two
outermost toes in tridactyle and tetradactyle birds.
The same numerical progression characterizes the two phalanges
in most lizards from the innermost to the fourth ; but a fifth toe
exists in them which has one phalanx less than the fourth toe. It
is the fifth toe which is wanting in every bird. In some Gallinacea,
one or two (Pavo bicalcaratus) spurs are superadded to the metatar¬
sus ; but this peculiar weapon is not the stunted homologue of a
toe. Dr Deane and Mr Marsh of Greenfield, United States, first
noticed, in 1835, impressions resembling the feet of birds in the
sandstone rocks near that town. Dr Hitchcock, president of
Amherst College, United States, whose attention was called to
these impressions, first made public the fact, and submitted to a
scientific ordeal his interpretations of those impressions as having
been produced by the feet of living birds, and he gave them the
name of Ornithichnites.
It was a startling announcement, and a conclusion that must
have had strong evidence to support it, since one of the kinds of
the tracks had been made by a pair of feet, each leaving a print
20 inches in length. Under the term Ornithichnites giganteus,
however, Dr Hitchcock did not shrink from announcing to the geo¬
logical world the fact of the existence, during the period of the
deposition of the red sandstones of the valley of the Connecticut,
of a bird which must have been at least four times larger than the
ostrich.3 The impressions succeeded each other at regular inter¬
vals ; they were of two .kinds, but differing only as a right and
left foot, and alternating with each other, the left foot a little to
the left, and the right foot a little to the right, of the mid-line be¬
tween the series of tracks. Each foot-print (fig. 79, b and r) ex¬
hibits three toes, diverging as they extend forwards. The distance
between the tips of the inside and outside toes of the same foot was
12 inches. Each toe was terminated by a short strong claw pro¬
jecting from the mid toe a little on the inner side of its axis, from
the other two toes a little on the outer side of theirs. The end
of the metatarsal bone to which those toes were articulated rested
on a two-lobed cushion which sloped upwards behind. The inner
toe (r) showed distinctly two phalangeal divisions, the middle
toe three, the outer toe (6) four. And since, in living birds, the
penultimate and ungual phalanges usually leave only a single
impression, the inference was just, that the toes of this large foot
had been characterized by the same progressively-increasing num¬
ber of phalanges, from the inner to the outer one, as in birds. And,
as in birds also, the toe with the greatest number of joints was not
1 Principles of Geology, ed. 1847, p. 721.
3 American Journal of Science for 1836, vol. xxix., pi. i.
2 Save in the Swift.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
155
Aves. the longest; it measured, e.g., 12J inches, the middle toe from the
y same base-line measured 16 inches, the outer toe 12 inches. Some
of the impressions of this huge tridactylous footstep were so well
preserved as to demonstrate the papillose and striated character of
the integument covering the cushions on the under side of the foot.
Such a structure is very similar to that in the ostrich. The average
extent of stride, as shown by the distance between the impres¬
sions, was between 3 and 4 feet; the same limb was therefore
carried out each step from 6 to 7 feet forward in the ordinary
rate of progression.
These foot-prints, although the largest that have been observed
on the Connecticut sandstones, are the most numerous. The gi¬
gantic Brontozoum, as Principal Hitchcock proposes to term the
species, “ must have been,” he writes, “ the giant rulers of the
. valley. Their gregarious character appears from the fact, that at
some localities we find parallel rows of tracks a few feet distance
from one another.”
The strata of red sandstone, with the above-described impres¬
sions, occupy an area more than 150 miles in length, and from 5 to
10 miles in breadth. “ Having examined this series of rocks in
many places, I feel satisfied that they were formed in shallow
water, and for the most part near the shore ; and that some of the
beds were from time to time raised above the level of the water
and laid dry, while a newer series, composed of similar sediment,
was forming.” “ The tracks have been found in more than twenty
places, scattered through an extent of nearly 80 miles from N. to
S., and they are repeated through a succession of beds attaining at
some points a thickness of more than 1000 feet, which may have
been thousands of years in forming.”1
One of the evidences of birds from the Cambridge greensand,
transmitted to the writer by their discoverer, Mr Barret, is the
lower half of the trifid metatarsal, showing the outer toe-joint
much higher than the other two, and projecting backwards above
the middle joint; it indicates a bird about the size of a woodcock.
In the conglomerate and plastic clay at the base of the eocene
tertiary system at Mendon, near Paris, the leg and thigh bones
(tibia and femur) of a bird (Gastornis Parisiensis) have been dis¬
covered : they indicate a genus now extinct. They belonged to a
species as large as an ostrich, but more robust, and with affinities
to wading and aquatic birds.2 In the eocene clay of Sheppy
fossil remains of birds have been found, indicating a small vulture
(Lithornis vulturinus); also a bird, probably of the king-fisher
family (Halcyornis toliapicus), and a species of the sea-gull family.
In the same formation at Highgate remains of a species of the heron
family have been found.
The fossil bones of birds from the gypsum quarries at Montmar¬
tre were referred or approximated by Cuvier to eleven distinct
species. Good ornitholites have been obtained from the Hordwell
fresh-water deposits. The most ancient example of a passerine
bird is the Protornis Glarisiensis, founded on an almost entire skele¬
ton discovered in the schistose rock of Glaris, referable to the
older division of the eocene tertiary series. This skeleton is about
the size of a lark, and in some respects similar to that bird.
Comparisons of the ornitholites of the eocene tertiaries show
that the following ordinal modifications of the class of birds
were at that period represented, the raptorial, or birds of prey,
by species of the size of our ospreys, buzzards, and smaller falcons,
and most probably also by an owl; the insessorial, or tree-perching
birds, by species seemingly allied to the nuthatch and the lark ;
the scansorials or anisodactyles, by species as large as the cuckoo
and king-fisher; the rasorials, by a species of small quail; the
cursorials, by a species as large as, but with thicker legs than, an
ostrich ; the grallatorial, by a curlew of the size of the ibis, and
by species allied to Scolopax, Tringa, and Pelidna, of the size of our
woodcocks, lapwings, andsanderlings; and the natatorial, by species
allied to the cormorant, but one of them of larger size, though less
than a pelican ; also by a species akin to the divers [Merganser).
The remains of birds become more abundant and varied as we
approach the present time; especially in the miocene strata, so
richly developed in Prance, although wanting in Britain. One of
the most singularly-modified forms of beak is shown by the flamingo.
The fossil skull of a species of this genus (Phoenicopterus) has
been found in the miocene fresh-water deposits of the plateau
of Gergovia, near Clermonte-Ferrand; the entire metatarsal bone
of a species of eagle (Aquila) or osprey (Pandion) in the same de¬
posits at Chaptusal, Allier; and the humerus of a bird allied to
and as large as the albatross, in the molasse coquilliere marine at
Armagne. Remains of a vulture, most probably a Cathartes,
have been found in the miocene lacustrine deposits of Cantal. In- Aves.
dications of all the other orders of birds, save the great Cursores or
Struthionidce, have also been discovered in miocene strata—those
of wading birds being the most numerous. Fossil eggs of birds
occur in miocene deposits in Auvergne; and impressions of fea¬
thers have been discovered in the pliocene calcareous marls at
Montebolca. In pliocene brick-earth deposits in Essex has been
found a fossil metatarsal of a swan, as large as, and not distin¬
guishable from, the existing wild swan ; in the pleistocene clay at
Lawford a fossil' humerus like that of a wild goose. But most of
the ornitholites of this recent tertiary period have been discovered
in ossiferous caverns. They belong to birds closely resembling
the falcon, wood-pigeon, lark, thrush, teal, and a small wader.
The writer has received information of skeletons of birds found
deeply imbedded in stratified clay at Aberdeen and Peterhead.
The most remarkable additions to the present class have been
obtained from the superficial deposits, turbaries, and caves in New
Zealand.3 This island is remarkable for the absence of aboriginal
species of land-mammals, and for the presence of a small bird with
very rudimental wings, and the keelless sternum and loose plu¬
mage of the Struthious order, but of a peculiar genus caMzA Apteryx:
the legs are very robust, and have three front toes and a very small
back toe. Birds resembling the Apteryx in the shape of the ster¬
num and bony structure of the pelvis and hind limbs, some retain¬
ing also the small back toe, others apparently without it, formerly
existed in New Zealand under different specific forms ranging in
height from 3 feet to 10 feet. They have been referred by the
writer to the genera Linornis and Palapteryx. The gigantic
species are interesting as exhibiting birds equal to the formation
of tridactyle impressions as large as those of the Connecticut sand¬
stones called Ornithichnites [Brontozoum) gigas (fig. 79, r, b). In
Fig. 79.
A. Dinornis elephantopus.
B. Leg-bones of Dinornis giganteus.
b, r. Impressions called Ornithichnites.
that cut is given a figure of the leg-bones of Dinornis giganteus, in
which the tibia (t) measures upwards of a yard in length. In the
entire skeleton [A) of another species, the metatarsus is as thick,
but only half as long, as in the D. giganteus; the framework of
the leg is the most massive of any in the class of birds ; the toe-
bones almost rival those of the elephant; whence the name Dinornis
elephantopus, given to this species. Several other species of these
1 Lyell, Manual of Elementary Geology, 8vo, 1855, p. 348.
2 Owen “ On the Affinities of Gastornis Parisiensis” Quarterly Journal of Geological Society, vol. xii., 1856, p. 204.
3 These remains are described in eight memoirs by the writer, published in the third and fourth volumes of the Transactions of the
Zoological Society of London. The description of the first fragment of the bone, indicative of the Dinornis, is in vol. iii., p. 39, pi. 3,
156
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia.
Chemical Composition of Bones.
Mammalia
Ingredients,
Phosphate of lime, with
trace of fluate of lime ...
Carbonate of lime 
Phosphate of magnesia 
Sulphate, carbonate, and 1
chlorate of soda j
Glutin and chondrin 
Oil 
64-39
7-03
0-94
0-92
27-73
0-99
10000
59-63
7-33
1-32
0-69
29-70
1-33
Tortoise. I Cod,
100-00
52-66
12-53
0-82
0-90
31-75
1-34
100-00
57-29
4-90
2-40
1-10
32-31
2-00
100-00
extinct tridactyle wingless birds have been determined—e.g.,
Dinornis ingens, D. struthio'ides, D. rheides, D. dromidides, D. casua-
rinus, D. robustus, D. crassus, D. gerandides, D. curtus. With these
remains have been found bones of a bird the size of a swan, but of
an extinct genus (Aptornis); also those of a large coot (Notornis
Mantelli) which,'founded originally on fossil remains, was after-
wards discovered living in the Middle Island of New Zealand.
Two species of Apteryx, not distinguishable from the existing kinds,
were contemporaries with the gigantic Dinornis, and the writer has
received evidence that the D. elephantopus afforded food to the
natives at probably no very remote period. Some of the smaller
kinds of Dinornis may yet be found living on the Middle Island.
In Madagascar portions of metatarsal bones, indicating a three¬
toed bird as large as, but generically distinct from, the Dinornis
giganteus, have been discovered in alluvial banks of streams; and
with them entire eggs, measuring from 13 to 14 inches in long dia¬
meter. The contents of one of these eggs is computed to equal those
of six ostrich eggs, or of one hundred and forty-eight hen’s eggs.
In the neighbouring island of Mauritius the dodo (Didus ineptus)
has been exterminated by man within the period of two centuries;
and in the islands of Bourbon and Rodriguez the “ solitaire ’ (Pezo-
phaps) has also become extinct. Both these birds had wings too
short for flight.
Class III.—MAMMALIA.
(Warm blooded, Air-breathing, Viviparous Vertebrates.)
Every calcified part of an animal, whether coral, shell, crust,
tooth, or bone, can preserve its form and structure when buried in
the earth during the changes there gradually operated in it, until
every original particle may have been removed and replaced by
some other mineral substance previously dissolved in the water
percolating the bed containing the fossil. A bone, or other part
so altered, is said to be “ petrified.” Not only are all its outward
characters preserved, but even the minutest structure may be, and
in most cases is, demonstrable in the fine sections under the mi¬
croscope.
Fossil bones and teeth have been discovered in every interme¬
diate stage of alteration, from their recent state to that of complete
petrifaction. Recent bones consist of a soft,—commonly called
animal or organic,— basis, hardened by earthy salts, chiefly phos¬
phate of lime.1 Fishes have the smallest proportion, birds the
largest proportion, of the earthy matter in their bones. The soft
part is chiefly a gelatinous substance.
Proportions of Hard and Soft Matter in the Bones of the Vertebrate
Animals.
FISHES.
Salmon. Carp. Cod.
Soft 60-62 40-40 34-30
Hard  39-38 59-60 65-70
100-00 100-00 100-00
REPTILES.
Frog. Snake. Lizard.
Soft 35-50 31-04 46-67
Hard 64-50 6996 53-33
100-00 100-00 100-00
MAMMALS.
Porpoise. Ox. Lion. Man.
Soft 35-90 31-00 27-70 31-03
Hard 64-10 6900 72-30 68-97
100-00 100-00 100-00 100-00
BIRDS.
Goose. Turkey. Hawk.
Soft 32-91 30-49 26-72
Hard 67-09 69’51 73-28
100-00 100-00 100-00
The chemical nature of the hardening particles, and of the soft
basis of bone, is exemplified in the subjoined table, including a
species of each of the four classes of Vertebrata:—
The most common change which bones first undergo is the loss of
more or less of their original soft and soluble basis. This effect of
long interment is readily tested by applying the specimen to the
tongue, when the affinity of the pores of the earthy constituent,
after having lost the gelatine, for fluid is so great, that the speci¬
men adheres to the tongue like a piece of dry chalk. Bones and
teeth in this state quickly absorb a solution of gelatine, and thus
their original tenacity may be restored.2 Petrified fossils need no
such treatment; they are usually harder and more durable than
the original bone itself.
The interpretation of such fossil remains requires a comparison
of them with the corresponding parts of animals now living, or of
previously determined extinct species. In the case of the verte¬
brate animals, such comparison is limited to the osseous and dental
systems. The interpretation of a vertebrate fossil, therefore, pre¬
supposes a knowledge of the various modifications of the skeleton
and teeth of the existing vertebrate animals; and the more exten¬
sive and precise such knowledge may be, the more successful will
be the efforts, and the more exact the conclusions, of the interpreter.
The determination of the remains of quadrupeds is beset, as
Cuvier truly remarks, with more difficulties than that of other
organic fossils. Shells are usually found entire, and with all the
characters by which they may be compared with their analogues
in the museums, or w-ith figures in the illustrated books, of natu¬
ralists. Fishes frequently present their skeleton or their scaly
covering more or less entire, from which may be gathered the
general form of their body, and frequently both the generic and
specific characters which are derived from such internal or external
hard parts. But the entire skeleton of a fossil quadruped is rarely
found, and when it occurs, it gives little or no information as to
the hair, the fur, or the colour of the species. Portions of the
skeleton with the bones dislocated, or scattered pell-mell,—de¬
tached bones and teeth, or their fragments merely,—such are the
conditions in which the petrified remains of the mammalian class
most commonly present themselves in the strata in which they
occur.
Prior to the time of Cuvier but little progress had been made in
the interpretation of such fragmentary remains. The striking
success which attended the application of the great comparative
anatomist’s science to this previously neglected field of study, was
referred by Cuvier to principles in the organization of animal
bodies, which he termed the “ Correlation of Forms and Struc¬
tures,” and the “ Subordination of Organs,”—principles which his
philosophical biographer, M. Fiourens,3 in common with most con¬
temporary philosophers, has regarded as the most effective and
successful instrument in the restoration of extinct animals. They
will be exemplified in the course of the present and concluding
section of the article Palaeontology.
A terminal phalanx modified to fit a hoof may give, as Cuvier
declared, the modifications of all the bones of the fore limb that
relate to the absence of a rotation of the fore leg, and all the mo¬
difications of the jaw and skull that relate to the mastication of
food by broad-crowned complex molars.
But there are certain associated structures for the coincidence of
which the physiological law is unknown. “ I doubt,” writes
Cuvier, “ whether I should have ever divined, if observation had
not taught it me, that the ruminant hoofed beasts should all have
the cloven foot, and be the only beasts with horns on the frontal
bone.” 4 We know as little why horns should be in one or two
pairs on the frontal bone of those Ungulates only which have hoofs
in one or two pairs; whilst in the horned Ungulates with three
1 That this combination of phosphorus and calcium has ever taken place in nature, save under the influences of a living organism,
remains to be proved. . . .v , j r
2 The writer’s experience of this effect led him to suggest the application of a similar process to the long-buried ivory ornaments from
the ruins of Nineveh in the British Museum ; it proved successful.
3 Plage Historique et VAnalyse Raisonnee des Travaux de G. Cuvier, 12mo, Paris, 1841, p. 42.
4 0ssemens Fossiles, 8vo, ed. 1834, tom. i., p. 184.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
157
Mammalia, hoofs, there should be either one horn, or two horns placed one
, ^ i behind the other in the middle line of the skull; or why the Un¬
gulates with one or three hoofs on the hind foot should have three
. trochanters on the femur, whilst those with two or four hoofs on
the hind foot should have only two trochanters.
“ However,” continues Cuvier, “ since these relations are con¬
stant, they must have a sufficing cause; hut as we are ignorant of
it, we must supply the want of the theory by means of observa¬
tion.1 This, if adequately pursued, will serve to establish empiri¬
cal laws almost as sure in their application as rational ones.”
“ That there are secret reasons for all these relations, observation
may convince us independently of general philosophy.” “ The
constancy between such a form of such organ, and such another
form of another organ, is not merely specific, but one of class,
with a corresponding gradation in the development of the two
organs.” 2
“ For example, the dentary system of non-ruminant Ungulates
is generally more perfect than that of the Bisulcates ; inasmuch as
the former have almost always both incisors and canines in the
upper as well as the lower jaw ; the structure of their feet is in
general more complex, inasmuch as they have more digits, or
hoofs less completely enveloping the phalanges, or more bones dis¬
tinct in the metacarpus and metatarsus, or more numerous tarsal
bones ; or a more distinct and better developed fibula ; or a con¬
comitance of all these modifications. It is impossible to assign a
reason for these relations; but, in proof that it is not an affair of
chance, we find that whenever a bisulcate animal shows in its den¬
tition any tendency to approach the non-ruminant Ungulates, it
also manifests a similar tendency in the conformation of its feet.
Thus the camels, which have canines and two or four incisors in
the upper jaw, have an additional bone in the tarsus, resulting
from the scaphoid not being confluent with the cuboid; and the
small hoofs have correspondingly small phalanges. The musk-
deer, which have long upper canines, have the fibula co-extensive
with the tibia, whilst the other ruminants have a mere rudiment of
fibula articulated to the lower end of the tibia.” “ There is then
a constant harmony between two organs to all appearance quite
strangers to each other, and the gradations of their forms corre¬
spond uninterruptedly even in the cases where one can render no
reason for such relations.” “ But in thus availing ourselves of
the method of observation as a supplementary instrument when
theory abandons us, we arrive at astonishing details. The smallest
articular surface (facette) of a bone, the smallest process, pre¬
sent a determinate character relating to the class, to the order, to
the genus, and to the species to which they belong; so that who¬
ever possesses merely the well-preserved extremity of a bone, he
may, with application, aided by a little tact (adresse) in discerning
analogies, and by sufficient comparison, determine all these things
as surely as if he possessed the entire animal.” 3
There have been, of course, instances, and will be, where, for
want of the “ efficacious comparison,” and the “ tact in discern¬
ing likeness,” such results have not rewarded the endeavours of
the palaeontologist ; and these shortcomings, and the mistakes
sometimes made, even by Cuvier himself, have been cast in the
teeth of his disciples, as arguments against the principles by which
they believed themselves guided in their endeavours to complete
the glorious edifice of which their master laid the foundations.
The writer has, therefore, quoted from the well-known “ Prelimi¬
nary Discourse” to Cuvier’s great work on Fossil Remains, with a
view to neutralize the efforts of statements reiterated in apparent
ignorance of the clear and explicit manner in which Cuvier there
defines the limits within which the law of correlation of ani¬
mal structures may be successfully applied, and indicates the in¬
stances in which,—the physiological condition being unknown,
and the coincident structures being understood empirically,—care¬
ful observation and rigorous comparison must supply the place of
the physiologically-understood law.
Those who deny the existence of design in the construction of
any part of an organized body, and who protest against the deduc¬
tion of a purpose from the valves of the veins or the lens of the
eye-ball, repudiate the reasoning which the palaeontologist carries
out from the hoof to the grinder, or from the carnassial molar to
the retractile claw, through the guidance of the principle of a
pre-ordained mutual adaptation of such parts ; but such minds are
not, nor have been, those who have contributed to the real advance- Mammalia,
ment of physiology or palaeontology.
By reference to the “ Table of Strata” (fig. 1), it will be seen that
the earliest evidence of a vertebrate animal is of the cold-blooded
water-breathing class in the upper Silurian period. Next follows
that of a cold-blooded but air-breathing vertebrate, probably from
the upper Devonian, but, under the batrachian grade, certainly in
the carboniferous period. The warm-blooded air-breathing classes
are first indicated, as birds, by foot-marks in a sandstone of pro¬
bably triassic but not older age; and, as Mammals, by fossil teeth
from bone-beds of the upper triassic system in Wirtemberg, and
of the same age near Frome, Somersetshire. Mammalian remains
have also been found in a coal-field in North Carolina, which may
be earlier, but cannot be later, than the lias formation.
Genus Microlvstes.—The mammalian teeth from German and
English trias indicate a very small insectivorous quadruped, to
which the above gel. eric name was given by Professor Plieninger.
The German specimens were discovered in 1847 in a bone breccia
at Diegerloch, about t vo miles from Stuttgardt, the geological rela¬
tions of which are wtll determined as between lias and Keuper
sandstone. The teeth of Microlestes from Frome, submitted to the
writer by the discoverer, Mr Charles Moore, F.G.S., in 1858, are
four in number, two being molars of the upper jaw, each with four
fangs ; one a molar with a n 'rrower crown and two fangs from the
lower jaw ; and the fourth a small, pointed, front tooth. The crowns
of the molars are short vertically in proportion to their breadth ;
the distinct enamel contrasts wi.h the cement-covered fangs ; the
grinding surface shows a wide and shallow depression, surrounded
by small, low, obtuse cusps, three of equal size being on one side, a
larger cusp near one end, and smaller and less regular cusps on the
side opposite the three. The lower molar shows a similar type, but
with the three marginal cusps less equal in size. The crown of the
largest of the upper molars does not exceed one line in its longest
diameter. Amongst existing Mammals, some of the small molars
of the marsupial and insectivorous Myrmecobius of Australia otfer
the nearest resemblance to these fossil teeth; but a still closer one
is presented by the small tubercular molars of the extinct oolitic
Mammal called Plagiaulax (fig. 88, m, 1 and 2).
Genus Dromatherium.—It would appear that the Mammal
from the American triassic or liassic coal-bed (Dromatherium syl-
veslre, Emmons) also found its nearest living analogue in Myrme¬
cobius; for each ramus of the lower jaw contained 10 small molars
in a continuous series, 1 canine, and 3 conical incisors, the latter
being divided by short intervals.
Genus Amphitherium (Thylacotherium, Val.)4—This genus is
Lower Jaw and Teeth of the Amphitherium Prevostii (twice nat. size).
founded upon a few specimens of lower jaw, one ramus of which
(fig. 80) gave the entire dentition of its side,—viz., three small
conical incisors (i), one rather larger canine (c), six premolars, uni¬
cuspid, with a small point at one or both sides of the base (p, 1—6),
and six quinque-cuspid molars (m, 1—6) not departing very far
from the type above-described. The molars, and most of the pre¬
molars, are implanted by two roots. The condyle of the jaw is
convex, and is a little higher than the level of the teeth; the coro-
noid process is broad and high; the angle projects backward, with
a feeble production inward. It is, again, to the marsupial Myr¬
mecobius, amongst living forms, that the present genus is most
nearly allied. The remains of Amphitherium are from the lower
oolitic slates of Stonesfield (fig. 82, stratum 8).
Genus Amphilestes.6—This genus is founded on a ramus of the
lower jaw, from the Stonesfield oolitic slate, showing true molars
of a compressed form, with a large middle cusp and a smaller, but
well-marked, one at the fore and back part of its base; the “ cin-
1 “ Puisque ces rapports sont constants, il faut bien qu’ils aient une cause suffisante ; mais comme nous ne la connoissons pas, nous
devons suppleer au defaut de la theorie par le moyen de 1’observation.” (Tom. cit., p. 184.)
2 “ En effet, quand on forme un tableau de ces rapports, on y remarque non-seulement une Constance specifique, si 1 on peut s’exprimer
ainsi, entre telle forme de tel organe, et telle autre forme d’un organe different; mais 1 on aper^oit aussi une Constance de classe et une
gradation correspondante dans le developpement de ces deux organes, qui montrent, presque aussi bien qu un raisonnement effectif, leur
influence mutuelle.” (Tom. cit., p. 185.) _ 3 Tom. cit., p. 187.
4 For the full description and demonstration of the mammalian nature of this much-discussed fossil, see Owen, History of Brit. Fossil
Mammals, 8vo, p. 29. 5 Owen, Hist. Brit. Foss. Mam., p. 58, fig. 19 (Amphitherium Broderipii).
158
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia, gulum,” or basal ridge, peculiar to mammalian teeth, traverses the
inner ridge of the crown, where it develops three small cusps, one
at the base of the large outer or principal cusp, and the other two
forming the anterior and posterior ends of the crown. This form
of tooth is unknown in existing Mammalia, but is as well adapted
for crushing the cases of coleopterous insects (elytra of which are
found fossil in the same oolitic matrix) as are any of the multi¬
cuspid molars of small opossums, shrews, and hats. The Amphi-
lestes Broderipii was somewhat larger than Amphitherium Prevostii.
Genus Phascolotheritjm.—Although the evidence of the very
slight degree of inflection of the angular process of the lower jaw
of Amphitherium may favour its affinity to the placental Insecti-
vores, yet the range of variety to which that mandibular character
is subject in the different genera of existing Marsupialia warns us
against laying undue stress upon its feeble development in the
extinct genus of the oolitic epoch, and incites us to look with
redoubled interest at whatever other indications of a marsupial
character may be present in the fossil remains of other genera and
species of Mammalia that have been detected in the Stonesfield
slate.
In the specimen of Phascolotherium (fig. 81) presented to the
Fig. 81.
Lower Jaw and Teeth of the Phascolotherium (nat. size in outline),
Lower Oolite.
British Museum by William J. Broderip, Esq., F.R.S., its original
describer,1 which is as perfect in regard to the dentition as the jaw
of the Amphitherium above described, the marsupial characters are
more strongly manifested in the general form of the jaw, and in
the extent and position of the inflected angle, while the agreement
with the genus Didelphys in the number of the premolar and molar
teeth is complete. The forms of the crowns of those teeth differ
from those in Didelphys, and correspond so closely with those in the
Amphilestes Broderipii, as to show the closer affinity of the Phasco-
lothere with the latter oolitic Insectivora; and, accordingly, what¬
ever additional evidence of marsupiality is afforded by the Phasco¬
lotherium, may be regarded as strengthening the claims of both
Amphilestes and Thylacotherium to be admitted into the marsupial
group. The general form and proportions of the coronoid process •
of the jaw of Phascolotherium resemble those in the zoophagous
Marsupials; and especially with that of the Thylacynus in regard
to the depth and form of the entering notch between this process
and the condyle.
The base of the inwardly-bent angle of the lower jaw progres¬
sively increases in Didelphys, Dasyurus, and Thylacinus; and judging
from the fractured surface of the corresponding part of the fossil, it
most nearly resembles the jaw of Thylacinus. The condyle of the
jaw is nearer the plane of the inferior margin of the ramus in the
Thylacine than in the Dasyures or Opossums; and consequently,
when the inflected angle is broken off, the curve of the line con¬
tinued from the condyle along the lower margin of the jaw is least
in the Thylacine. In this particular, again, the Phascolothere re¬
sembles that Australian Carnivore. In the position of the dental
foramen, the Phascolothere, like the Amphithere, differs from the
zoophagous Marsupials and placental Carnivora and Insectivora,
and resembles the Hypsiprymnus, a marsupial Herbivore, that
orifice being near the vertical line dropped from the last molar
tooth. In the direction of the line of the symphysis, the Phascolo¬
there resembles the Opossums more than the Dasyures or Thylacines.
It is probable that the teeth at the fore part of the jaw showed the
same correspondence. In the number of the molar series, the Phas¬
colothere differs from Amphitherium, Amphilestes, and Myrmecolius,
and resembles the Thylacine and Opossum, but without having the
premolars (p, i, 2, 3) distinguished, as in them, from the true
molars (m, 1, 2, 3, 4), by smaller and more simple crowns. As,
however, these two kinds of teeth can only be determined by their
order of development and succession, the Phascolothere may well Mammalia,
have had three premolars and four true molars. 1 ^ ;
The difference between these teeth in the lower jaw of Didelphys
is shown by the addition, in the true molars, of a pointed tubercle ‘
on the inner side of the middle cone. In Phascolotherium a mere
basal ridge or cingulum extends along the inner side of the middle
cone. Such a ridge is present in the last molar of Sarcophilus, but
not in the other molars; but in these there are two small hind cusps
on the same transverse line, whilst that cusp appears to be single
in Phascolotherium. The cingulum, moreover, in the second to the
penultimate of the molar series of this fossil, extends so far as to
form a small talon at the fore and back part of the crown ; thus
making five points, which are very distinct in the third to the
penultimate tooth inclusive; and by tbis character the dentition of
Phascolotherium differs materially from any existing Marsupial, and
repeats the type of molar which, as yet, would seem to be peculiar
to the Insectivora of the oolitic epoch. There is a feeble indication
of this structure in the antepenultimate and penultimate molars of
Thylacinus, but the hinder division of the crown shows two small
cusps on the same transverse line, besides the rudimental hindmost
one; and there is no cingulum. Upon the whole, it would seem
that, though the affinity may not be close, Phascolotherium most
resembles Thylacinus amongst existing Mammals; but Thylacinus is
now confined to Tasmania, and is there fast verging to extinction.
The resemblance shown by the lower jaw and its teeth of the
Amphithere and Phascolothere to marsupial genera now confined
to Australia and Tasmania, leads one to reflect on the interesting
correspondence between other organic remains of the Oxfordshire
oolite and other existing forms now confined to the Australian con-
~ Fig. 82.
(After Fitton.)
1. Rubbly limestone (cornbrash).
2. Clay, with Terebratulites.
3. Limestone rock. *
4. Blue clay.
5. Oolitic rock.
6. Stiff clay.
7. Oolitic rag, or limestone.
8. Sandy bed containing the Stonesfield slate.
tinent and surrounding sea. Here, for example, swims the Cestra-
cion, or Port-Jackson shark, which has given the key to the nature
of the “ palates” from our oolites, now recognised as the teeth of
congeneric larger forms of cartilaginous fishes. Mr Broderip, in
his Memoir above quoted, observes, “ that it may not be uninter¬
esting to note that a recent species of Trigonia has very lately been
discovered on the coast of Australia, that land of marsupial ani¬
mals. Our specimen lies imbedded with a number of fossil shells
of that genus.” Not only Trigonice but Terehratulce exist, and the
Zoological Journal, vol. iii., p. 408, pi. xl., 1828.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
159
Mammalia.
latter abundantly, in the Australian seas, yielding food to the Ces-
tracion, as their extinct analogues doubtless did to the allied Pla-
giostomes with crushing teeth, called Acrodus,Psammodus, &c. Arau -
carioB and cycadeous plants, like those found fossil in oolitic beds,
flourish on the Australian continent, where marsupial quadrupeds
now abound ; and thus appear to complete a picture of an ancient
condition of the earth’s surface, which has been superseded in our
hemisphere by other strata and a higher type of mammalian orga¬
nization. Fig. 82 represents a section of the strata overlying the
slates whence the fossil mammalian jaws, with associated Megalo-
saurs, Pterodactyles, and other oolitic organisms, have been obtained
at Stonesfield in Oxfordshire. The vertical thickness of the strata
through which the shaft is sunk to the gallery is 62 feet; on the
side opposite the right hand is marked the depth of the horizontal
gallery, where the slate is dug which contains the fossils; on the
opposite side the strata are numbered in succession.
Genus Stereognathus.— The last evidence of a mammalian
animal discovered in the Stonesfield slate is of peculiar interest,
because it exhibits a type of grinding teeth quite distinct from any
of the previously acquired jaws from that locality, and affords evi¬
dence of a small vegetable-feeding or omnivorous quadruped. It con¬
sists of a portion of a lower jaw,
imbedded in the characteristic
matrix (fig. 83), about 9 lines
in extent, and containing three
molar teeth (a, b, c). It is near¬
ly straight; the side exposed
is convex vertically; a slight
bend downwards, and decrease
of vertical diameter towards
the end, indicates it to be part
of a left ramus. This is un¬
usually shallow, broad or thick
below, the side passing by a
strong convex curve into the
lower part; a very narrow longi¬
tudinal ridge, continued after
its subsidence by a few fine
lines, forms a tract which divides the lateral from the under sur-
a l c
Fig. 83.
Stereognathus; Portion of Jaw, im¬
bedded in Oolitic Matrix (nat.
size).
face; elsewhere the bone is smooth, without conspicuous vascular
perforations. The depth or vertical diameter of the ramus is not
more than 2 lines. Of the
three teeth remaining in
this portion of jaw, the
middle one is the least mu¬
tilated. The crown of this
tooth (fig. 84, B) is of a
quadrate form, 3 milli¬
metres by 3J millimetres,
of very little height, and
supports six subequal cusps
in three pairs, each pair
being more closely con¬
nected in the antero-pos-
terior direction of the tooth
than transversely.
The outer side of the
crown (fig. 83, b), sup¬
ported by a narrow fang
which contracts as it sinks
into the socket, shows two
principal cusps or cones,
and a small accessory basal
cusp. The hard and shin¬
ing enamel which covers
these parts of the crown contrasts with the lighter cement that
coats the root. The two outer lobes or cones are subcompressed,
and placed obliquely on the crown, so that the hinder one (o', fig.
84) is a little overlapped externally by the front one o, the fore
part of the base of the hinder one being prolonged inwards on the
inner side of the base of the front cone. The two middle cones
(A, i) are subcompressed laterally, with the fore part of their base
a little broader than the back part. The two inner cones (p, p')
have their inner surface convex, with their summits slightly in¬
clined forwards. The fore part of the base of the hinder cone is
prolonged obliquely towards the centre of the crown, beyond the
contiguous end of the base of the front cone, so as to cause an
arrangement like that of the two outer cones (o, o'), the obliquity
of the posterior cone of both the outer and the inner pairs being
such that they slightly converge as they extend forwards.
This type of tooth differs from that of all other known recent
or extinct Mammals. The nearest approach to it is made by the
Fig. 84.
Stereognathus ; Upper View of portion
of Jaw (nat. size), and Magnified
View of the Middle Tooth, B (Stones ¬
field Oolite).
middle true molar of Pliolophus vulpiceps, a small extinct herbi- Mammalia,
vorous Mammal from the London clay (fig. 91, m, 2). | 1
That the fragment in question is the jaw of a Mammal is in¬
ferred from the implantation of the tooth by two or more roots.
Most Mammals are known to have certain teeth so implanted. Such
complex mode of implantation in bone has not been observed in
any other class of animals. Why two or more roots of a tooth
should be peculiar to viviparous quadrupeds, giving suck, is not
precisely known. That a tooth, whether it be designed for grind¬
ing hard or cutting soft substances, should do both the more effec¬
tually in the ratio of its firmer and more extended implantation, is
intelligible. That a more perfect performance of a preliminary
act of digestion should be a necessary correlation, or be in har¬
mony with a more complete conversion of the food into chyle and
blood,—and that such more efficient type of the whole digestive
machinery should be correlated, and necessarily so, with the hot
blood, quick-beating heart and quick-breathing lungs, with the
higher instincts, and more vigorous and varied acts of a Mammal,
as contrasted with a cold-blooded reptile or fish,—is also conceiv¬
able. To the extent to which such and the like reasoning may be
true, or in the direction of the secret cause of the constant relations
of many-rooted teeth discovered by observation,—to that extent
will such relations ascend from the empirical to the rational cate¬
gory of laws.
The interest which the above-described fossil from the Stonesfield
oolitic slate excites is not exclusively due to its antiquity, its
uniqueness, or its peculiarity; much is attached to its relations as
a test in palaeontology of the actual value of a single tooth in the
determination of other parts of the organization of the animal. Ac¬
cording to our opinion of these unseen parts, we frame our expres¬
sion of the nature and affinities, or of the place in the zoological
system, of the extinct species. From the resemblance of the lower
molars of Stereognathus to those of Pliolophus, which, though not
close, is closer than to the teeth of any other known animal, it is
probable that the Stereognathus was hoofed, and consequently her¬
bivorous, or deriving the chief part of its subsistence from the vege¬
table kingdom. Cuvier has written,—“ La premiere chose a faire
dans I’fstude d’un animal fossile est de reconnaitre la forme de ses
dents molaires; ou determine par-la s’il est carnivore ou herbivore,
et dans ce dernier cas, on peut s’assurer, jusqu’a un certain point
de 1’ordre d’herbivores auquel il appartient.” 1 In the case in
question the form of the molar teeth of one jaw is recognisable, but
the herbivority of the fossil is not thereby determined. We can
only infer it to be more probable that the fossil was a Herbivore
than an Insectivore or a mixed-feeding Carnivore.
Admitting the herbivority of the fossil, it is not certain that it
was hoofed ; there is nothing in the form and structure of the tooth
to prove that. Both form and structure are compatible with the
hoofless muticate type of herbivorous Mammal, as shown by the
Manatee; it is the small size of the Stereognathus which renders it
less probable that it was a diminutive kind of Manatee, and more
probable that it was a diminutive form of Ungulate. But seeing
the manifold diversities of the multi-cuspid form of molar teeth in
recent and extinct insectivorous unguiculate quadrupeds, it is not
impossible but that the Stereognathus may have belonged to that
order ; there is no known physiological law forbidding it.
The form of the cusps, and their regular symmetrical arrange¬
ment in the Stereognathus, as compared with the known modifica¬
tions of multi-cuspid molars in certain small extinct forms of hoofed
quadrupeds, constitute the grounds upon which an opinion is
formed of its most probably belonging to the same section of Un ■
gulata.
Then, is it not true, it may be asked, that by virtue of certain
established laws of correlated structures, an extinct animal may be
re-constructed from a single tooth or from a fragment of bone ? Is
the Cuvierian basis, or what has been so regarded, of palaeontology
unsound ? Hot necessarily from aught that has been said or writ¬
ten on the subject of the Stereognathus. We do not know the com¬
parative anatomy of the family of quadrupeds to which the Stereog¬
nathus belonged. What we do know of its teeth suggests that that
family may have had modifications of the skeleton so far differing
from those of any, the modifications of which are known, as to have
constituted a type of, perhaps, a marsupial family; but a type as
well marked, and as distinct, as the type of skeleton which Cuvier
inductively studied in the feline Carnivora (fig. 106), and in the
ruminant Herbivora (fig. 107), and by which preliminary study he
was enabled to enunciate that beautiful law of the “ correlation of
forms and structures” to which allusion has been already made,
and which will be illustrated by examples, and its mode of appli¬
cation pointed out, in another part of the present article.
In certain instances of constant coincidences of structure, as de¬
monstrated by comparative anatomy, the sufficient—t.e. recognisable,
i ' ... .A.A-V-.
1 Ossemens Fossiles, 4to, tom. iii., 1822, p. 1.
160
PALEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia, intelligible, or physiological—cause of them is not yet known. But,
as Cuvier in reference to such instances truly remarks, “ Since
these relations are constant, there certainly must be a sufficient
cause for them.” 1 In certain other cases Cuvier believed that he
could assign that “ sufficient cause,” and he selects as such the cor¬
related structures in a feline Carnivore, and in a hoofed Herbivore.
The physiological knowledge displayed by him in his explanation
of the condition of those correlations is most exact; its application
in the restoration of the Anoplotherium and Palceotherium most
exemplary.
In the ratio of the knowledge of the reason of the coincidences
of animal structures—in other words, as those coincidences become
“ correlations ”—is our faith in the soundness of the conclusions
deduced from the application of such rational law of correlations ;
and with the certainty of such application is associated a greater
facility of its application. A knowledge of the physiological con¬
ditions governing the relations of the contents of the cavities of
hones to the flight and other modes of locomotion in birds both en¬
abled the writer to infer from one fragment of a skeleton that it
belonged to a terrestial bird deprived of the power of flight, and to
predict that such a bird, but of less rapid course than the ostrich,
would ultimately be found in New Zealand.2
This principle, however,—those modes of thought,—which Cuvier
affirmed to have guided him in his interpretation of fossil remains,
and which he believed to be a true clue in such researches, were
repudiated or contested by some of his contemporaries.
Geoffrey St Hilaire denied the existence of a design in the con¬
struction of any part of an organized body; be protested against
the deduction of a purpose from the contemplation of such struc¬
tures as the valves of the veins or the converging lens of the eye.
Beyond the co-existence of such a form of flood-gate with such a
course of the fluid, or of such a course of light with such a converg¬
ing medium, Geoffroy affirmed that thought, at least his mode of
thinking, could not sanely, or ought not to go.
The present is not the place for even the briefest summary of
the arguments which have been adduced by teleologists and anti-
teleologists from Democritus and Plato down to Comte and Whe-
well. The writer would merely remark, that in the degree in which
the reasoning faculty is developed on this planet and is exercised
by our species, it appears to be a more healthy and normal condi¬
tion of such faculty,—certainly one which has been productive of
most accession to truths, as exemplified in the mental workings of
an Aristotle, a Galen, a Harvey, and a Cuvier,—to admit the in¬
stinctive impression of a design or purpose in such structures as the
valves of the vascular system and the dioptric mechanism of the
eye. In regard to the few intellects,—they have ever been a small
and unfruitful minority,—who do not receive that impression and
will not admit the validity or existence of final causes in phy¬
siology, the writer has elsewhere expressed his belief that such
intellects are not the higher and more normal examples, but rather
manifest some, perhaps congenital, defect of mind, allied or analo¬
gous to “ colour-blindness ” through defect of the optic nerve, or
the inaudibleness of notes above a certain pitch through defect of
the acoustic nerve.
The truth of a physiological knowledge of the condition of a cor¬
related structure, and of the application of that knowledge to
palaeontology, is not affected by instances adduced from that much
more extensive series of coincident structures of which the physio¬
logical condition is not yet known. Nor is the power of the appli¬
cation of the physiologically interpreted correlation the less certain
because the merely empirically recognised coincidences have failed
to restore, with the same certainty and to the same extent, an ex¬
tinct form of animal.
Certain coincidences of form and structure in animal bodies are
determined by observation. By the exercise of a higher faculty
the reason, or a reason, of these coincidences is discovered, and they
become correlations; in other words, it is known not only that
they do exist, but how they are related to each other. In the case
of coincidences of the latter kind, or of “correlations” properly
so called, the mind infers with greater certainty and confidence,
in their application to a fossil, than in the case of coincidences
which are held to’be constant only because so many instances of them
have been observed.
Because the application of the latter kind of coincidences is
limited to the actual amount of observation at the period of such
application, and because mistakes have been made through a mis¬
calculation of the value of such amount, it has been argued that a
rational law of the correlation of animal forms is inapplicable to
the determination of a whole from a part;3 and it has not only Mammalia,
been asserted that the results of such determination are unsound, v '
but that the philosopher who believed himself guided by such law
deceived himself and misconceived his own mental processes !4
But the true state of the case is, that the non-applicability of Cu¬
vier’s law in certain cases is not due to its non-existence, but to the
limited extent to which it is understood.
The consciousness of that limitation led the enunciator of the
law to call the attention of palaeontologists expressly to the extent
to which it could then be applied, as, for instance, to the determi¬
nation of the class, but not the order; or of the order, but not the
family or genus, &c.; and to caution them also as to the extent of
the cases in which, the coincidences being only known empirically,
he consequently enjoins the necessity of further observation, and
of caution in their induction. Cuvier expresses, however, his belief
that such coincidences must have a sufficient cause, and that cause
once discovered, they then become correlations and enter into the
category of the higher law. Future comparative anatomists will
have that great consummation in view, and its result, doubtlessly,
will be the vindication of the full value of the law in the interpre¬
tation of fossil remains as defined by the illustrious founder of
palaeontology.
Genus Spalacotherium, Ow.—The next stratum overlying the
older oolites in which mammalian remains have been detected, is a
member of the newest oolitic series at Purbeck, Dorsetshire, called
the “ marly ” or “ dirt-bed.” In a series of fossils discovered there
by Mr W. R. Brodie, and transmitted for determination in 1854 to
the writer, amongst the remains of fishes and small Saurians, con¬
stituting the majority of the specimens, were detected three un¬
equivocal evidences of a mammalian species, which were described
under the name of Spalacotherium5 tricuspidens. The specimen here
selected (fig. 85) to ex¬
emplify the above extinct
insectivorous Mammal, is
a right ramus of the lower
jaw. The posterior half
contains four teeth, and
extends backward beyond
the dental series ; but in¬
stead of showing the com¬
pound structure which
that part of the jaw exhibits in the lizard tribe, it continues undi¬
vided ; the convex surface showing a smooth depression for the in¬
sertion of the temporal muscle ; the lower boundary answering to
that going to the condyle and angle of the jaw, and the upper one
to that going to the coronoid process in the ramus of the jaw of the
mole and shrew'. The crowns of the teeth are long, narrow, and
tricuspid, the inner part of the crown being produced into a point
both before and behind the longer cusp which forms the chief
outer division of the crown. Each of these teeth is implanted by a
fang divided externally into two roots, in a distinct socket in the
substance of the jaw. The multicuspid crowm, the divided root of
the tooth, its complex implantation, and the undivided or simple
structure of the ramus of the jaw, all concurred, therefore, to prove
the mammalian nature of this fossil.
The other specimens showed that the Spalacotherium had ten
molar teeth in each ramus of the lower jaw, preceded by a small
canine and incisors. The anterior molars are compressed, increase
in height and thickness to the sixth, and from the seventh decrease
in size to the hindmost, which seems to be the last of the series.
The sharp multicuspid character of so much of the dental series as
is here preserved repeats the general condition of the molar teeth
of the small insectivorous Mammalia in a striking degree : one sees
the same perfect adaptation for piercing and crushing the tough
chitinous cases and elytra of insects. The particular modification
of the pointed cusps, as to number, proportion, and relative posi¬
tion, resembles in some degree that of the Cape mo\e (Chrysochlora
aurea), but both in these respects and in the number of molars, the
dentition accords more closely with that of the extinct Amphitherium.
The chief interest in the discovery of the Spalacotherium is derived
from its demonstration of the existence of Mammalia about midway
between the older oolitic and the oldest tertiary periods.
Both the Oxford oolitic slate and the Purbeck marly shell-beds
give evidence of insect life; in the latter formation abundantly.
The association of these delicate Invertebrata with remains of plants
allied to Zamia and Cycas, is indicative of the same close interde¬
pendency between the insect class and the vegetable kingdom, of
which our power of surveying the phenomena of life on the present
Spalacotherium tricuspidens (twice nat.
size), Purbeck beds.
1 Discours sur les Revolutions de la Surface du Globe, 4to, 1826, p. 50.
2 Transactions of the Zoological Society, vol. iii., p. 32, pi. 3. 3 De Blainville, Osteographie, 4to, fasc. 1, 1839, p. 34.
4 Prof. Huxley, “ Lecture on Natural History,” &c., Royal Institution of Great Britain, Feb. 15, 1856.
6 From (riraAal, a mole, a beast.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
161
Mammalia, surface of the earth enables us to recognise so many beautiful ex¬
amples. Amongst the numerous enemies of the insect class ordained
to maintain its due numerical relations, and organized to pursue
and secure its countless and diversified members in the air, in the
waters, on the earth and beneath its surface, bats, lizards, shrews,
and moles now carry on their petty warfare simultaneously, and in
warmer latitudes work together, or in the same localities, in their
allotted task. No surprise need therefore be felt at the discovery
that Mammals and Lizards co-operated simultaneously and in the
same locality at the same task of restraining the undue increase of
insect life during the period of the deposition of the Lower Purbeck
beds.
G&nus Triconodon, Ow.
Sp. Triconodon mordax.—This name isproposed fora small zoopha-
gous Mammal, whose generic distinction is shown by the shape of the
crowns of the molar teeth of the lower
jaw, which consist of three nearly equal
cones on the same longitudinal row,
the middle one being very little larger
than the front and hind cone; and
these cones are not complicated by
any cingulum or accessory basal cusp.
The convex condyle is below the level
of the alveoli, and there is no angular
process projecting beneath it. The
coronoid process is broad and high, with its hinder point not ex¬
tended so far back as the condyle; the depression marking the
insertion of the temporal muscle extends nearly to the lower border
of the jaw. There are the obscure remains of three broken in¬
cisors, and the point of apparently a canine; next come the two
stumps or broken roots of a small premolar ; then the crown of a
second double-rooted premolar, which show a principal cone and
a small anterior cusp; the next tooth is wanting ; then there is a
larger premolar, with the two fangs raised some way out of their
socket: the crown of this tooth shows a principal cone, with a
small anterior and large posterior talon ; it rises, apparently from
partial displacement, higher than the succeeding molars; these are
three in number, and present the characteristic three-coned struc¬
ture already described; each cone is smooth, and convex exter¬
nally. The three cones seem to answer to the three middle or
principal cones of the molars of Amphilestes and Phascolotherium,
but the front and hind cones are raised to near equality with the
middle cone in Triconodon.
The lower jaw of this species, in the relation of the condyle to the
lower border, resembles that of Phascolotherium more than that of
Amphitherium, but it differs from both; there is not the same
gradual curve from the condyle to the symphysis as in Phascolo-
therium ; and, besides the lower level of the condyle, it is divided
by a less deep notch from the coronoid process. This process is
larger in proportion to the entire jaw ; approaches more nearly to
the quadrate or rhomboid form, the upper border being less curved;
it affords a more extensive surface of attachment to the principal
biting muscles than in most predatory extinct or recent quadrupeds.
This character, with the depth and strength of the jaw, suggested
the specific name. From the shape of the exposed part of the
ramus, we may conclude that the part answering to the angle is
bent inwards, and that Triconodon was a genus of the marsupial
order. The specimen was discovered by Mr Beccles in the same
“ dirt-bed” at Purbeck as that in which Spalacotherium was found.
Genus Plagiaulax,1 Fr.—The most remarkable of Mr Beccles’
discoveries in the above formation are the mammalian jaws indi¬
cative of the genus above named, of which two species have been
determined by Dr Falconer.
Sp. Plagiaulax Becclesii, Fr.—-Two specimens exemplified the
b f
Fig. 86.
Jaw of Triconodon mordax
(nat. size), Purbeck.
Fig. 87.
Plagiaulax Becclesii (twice nat. size), Purbeck.
shape and proportions of the entire jaw of this species (fig. 87).
The foremost tooth (i) is a very large one, shaped like a canine,
but implanted by a thick root in the fore part of the jaw, like the ,Mammalia,
large lower incisor of a kangaroo or wombat. The three anterior
teeth in place have compressed trenchant crowns, and rapidly aug¬
ment in size from the first (2) to the third (4). They are followed
by sockets of two much smaller teeth, shown in other specimens to
have subtuberculate crowns resembling those of Microlestes. The
large front tooth of Plagiaulax is formed to pierce, retain, and kill ;
the succeeding teeth, like the carnassials of Carnivora, are, like
the blades of shears, adapted to cut and divide soft substances,
such as flesh. As in Carnivora, also, these sectorial teeth are suc¬
ceeded by a few small tubercular ones. The jaw conforms to this
character of the dentition. It is short in proportion to its depth,
and consequently robust, sending up a broad and high coronoid
process (6), for the adequate grasp of a large temporal muscle; and
the condyle (c) is placed below the level of the grinding teeth,— a
character unknown in any herbivorous or mixed-feeding Mammal;
whilst the lever of the coronoid process is made the stronger by the
condyle being carried farther back from it than in any known car¬
nivorous or herbivorous animal. The angle of the jaw makes no
projection below the condyle, but is slightly bent inwards, accord¬
ing to the marsupial type.
Sp. Plagiaulax minor, Fr.—In this species the first premolar (fig.
88, p, 1) is preserved; the rest (p, 2, 3, and 4) show nearly the same
shape and proportions as
in P. Becclesii. The first
molar (m, 1) has a broad
depression on the grinding
surface, surrounded by tu¬
bercles, of which three are
on the outer border; the
marginal tubercles of the
second smaller tooth are
smaller and more numer¬
ous.
In the general shape and
proportions of the large
premolar (p, 4) and suc¬
ceeding molars, Plagiaulax most resembles Thylacoleo (fig. 115, p, m,
1 and 2),—a much larger extinct predaceous Marsupial from ter¬
tiary beds in Australia. But the sectorial teeth in Plagiaulax are
more deeply grooved; whence its name. The single compressed
premolar of the kangaroo-rat is also grooved ; but it is differently
shaped, and is succeeded by four square-crowned double-ridged
grinders adapted for vegetable food; and the position of the con¬
dyle, the slenderness of the coronoid, and other characters of the
lower jaw, are in conformity to that regimen. In Thylacoleo the
lower canine or canine-shaped incisor projected from the fore part
of the jaw close to the symphysis, and the corresponding tooth in
Plagiaulax more closely resembles it in shape and direction than
it does the procumbent incisor of Hypsiprymnus. From this genus
Plagiaulax differs by the obliquity of the grooves on its premolars;
by having the analogous teeth vertically grooved; by having only
two true molars in each ramus of the jaw, instead of four; by the
salient angle which the surfaces of the molar and premolar teeth
form, instead of presenting a uniform level line; by the broader,
higher, and more vertical coronoid ; and by the very low position
of the articular condyle.
The physiological deductions from the above-described charac¬
teristics of the lower jaw and teeth of Plagiaulax are, that it was
a carnivorous Marsupial. It probably found its prey in the con¬
temporary small insectivorous Mammals and Lizards, supposing
no herbivorous form, like Stereognathus, to have co-existed during
the upper oolitic period.
In the Woodwardian Museum at Cambridge is a specimen of an-
chylosed cervical vertebrae of a cetaceous animal as large as a gram¬
pus, but presenting specific distinctions from all known recent and
fossil species. It is stated to have been found in the brown clay or
“ till” near Ely ; but in its petrified condition, colour, and specific
gravity, it is so different from the true bones of the “ till,” and so
closely like the fossils of the Kimmeridge clay, as to make it ex¬
tremely probable that it has been washed out of that formation.
In a recent visit to Cambridge the writer has identified true
cetacean vertebrae which had been discovered associated with bones
of Ichthyosaurus in the lower greensand (neocomian) near that
town. No evidence of the mammalian class has yet been met with
in the chalk beds.
The examples of the Mammalia first met with in tertiary strata
are the Coryphodon and Palceocyon, respectively representing the
ungulate (herbivorous) and unguiculate (carnivorous) modifica¬
tions of the class; their remains have been found in the plastic clay
and equivalent lignites in England and France.
Plagiaulax minor (four times nat. size),
Purbeck (after Lyell).
1 An abbreviation for Plagiaulacodon, from vkoiyios, oblique, and «vAa|, groove; having reference to the diagonal grooving of the pre¬
molar teeth.
VOL. XVII.
X
162 FALCON
Mammalia. Genus Coryphodon, Ow.—Rarely has the writer felt more mis-
giving in regard to a conclusion based, in palaeontology, on a single
tooth or bone, than that to which he arrived after a study of the
unique fragment of jaw with one tooth dredged up off the Essex
coast, and on which he founded the genus Coryphodon.1
The marked contraction of the part of the jaw near one end of
the tooth seemed, at first view, clearly to show it to be the narrower
fore part of the ramus ; in that case the tooth would have been a
premolar, and of comparatively little value in the determination of
a genus or species. But a closer inspection showed the line of
abrasion of the summits of the two transverse ridges of the tooth
to be on one side, and the general law of the relative apposition
and reciprocal action of the upper and lower grinders in tapiroid
Pachyderms determined that those oblique linear abrasions must
be on the hinder side of the ridges. The smaller characters carried
conviction against the showing of the larger and more catching ones.
So, in determining the position of the nautilus in its pearly abode,
when the animal without its shell was first brought to England in
1831, the reasons afforded by some small and inconspicuous parts
in like manner outweighed the first impressions from more obvious
appearances, as well as the bias from the general analogies of tes¬
taceous Univalves. Some contemporary naturalists asserted, and
for a time it was believed, that the nautilus had been put upside
down in its shell,2 just as some contemporary anatomists surmised
that the writer had mistaken the fore for the back part of the jaw
of his Coryphcedon, which, in that case, might only be the known
Lophiodon. In both instances the conclusions founded on the less
obvious characters have proved to be correct. And the writer
would remark that, in the course of his experience, he has often
found that the prominent appearances which first catch the eye and
indicate a conformable conclusion are deceptive, and that the less
obtrusive phenomena which require searching out, more frequently,
when their full significance is reasoned up to, guide to the right
comprehension of the whole. It is as if truth were whispered
rather than outspoken by Nature.
Truth, it is sometimes said, lies at the bottom of a well. The
first additional glimpse that the writer obtained of the veritable
nature of one of our most ancient tertiary Mammals was derived
from the inspection of a fossil tooth brought up from a depth of
160 feet, out of the “ plastic clay,” during the operations of sink¬
ing a well in the neighbourhood of Camberwell, near London. It
was a canine tooth,3 belonging, from its size (near 3 inches in
length), to a large quadruped, and, from the thickness and short¬
ness of its conical crown, not to a carnivorous but to a hoofed
Mammal, most resembling in shape, though not identical with, that
of the crown of the canine tooth of some large extinct tapiroid
Mammals, which Cuvier had referred to his genus Lophiodon, but
which has proved to belong to Coryphodon.
The last lower molar of Lophiodon has three lobes; the molar
determined to be the ultimate one, in the fragment of lower jaw
above referred to, resembles that of the tapir in the absence of a
third or posterior lobe, but the posterior ridge or part of the cin¬
gulum is less developed than in the tapir. It presents two divi¬
sions in the form of transverse ridges or eminences, the front ridge
being the largest, and with its edge most entire. From the outer
end of each division a ridge is continued obliquely forward, in¬
ward, and downward: the anterior one extends to the antero-
internal angle of the base of the crown; the posterior one terminates
at the middle of the interspace between the two chief divisions of the
crown. The trenchant summit of the anterior ridge is slightly
concave toward the fore part of the tooth, as in that of Lophiodon;
but its outer and inner ends rise higher, and appear as more dis¬
tinct cones or points ,• whence the generic name of Coryphodon. The
posterior division is lower than the anterior one, and is bicuspid ;
the trenchant margin connecting the outer and inner points does
not extend across the crown parallel with the anterior ridge, as in
Tapirus and Lophiodon, but bends back so as to form an angle, the
apex of which rises into a third point.
Some lophiodontoid fossils from the lignites of Soissons and
Laon, and from the plastic clay of Meudon in France, including
the upper molar tooth figured by Cuvier in the chapter of the
Ossemens Fossiles entitled “ Animaux voisins de Tapirs,” pi. vii.,
fig. 6, belong to the genus Coryphodon. Cuvier compares this
tooth with one from Bastberg, which he figures in pi. vi., fig. 4,
and which is certainly the last upper molar of a true Lophiodon,
and points out truly that the Soissons tooth differs in the external
border passing into the posterior one, so that, instead of being
quadrangular, its crown is triangular ; but he explains this differ¬
ence on the hypothesis that the Bastberg tooth was a penultimate
T 0 L 0 G Y.
molar. The reduction of the second or posterior ridge to a semi- Mammalia,
circular one, developed at its middle and hindmost part into a i ^ ^
prominent cone, so far agrees with the modification of the same
part of the last molar of the lower jaw of the Coryphodon as to
render it very probable that the last upper molar from Soissons,
figured by Cuvier in pi. vii., fig. 6, above quoted, also belongs to
the genus Coryphodon. Cuvier states that the entire skeleton was
found, indicative of an animal as long and almost as large as a
bull; but that the workmen employed in the sandpit (sablonilre)
preserved only that one tooth. Both the lower molar from Har¬
wich, and the upper one from Soissons, indicate an animal of at
least double the size of the American tapir.
Professor Hebert4 has recently described a very instructive
series of teeth and bones from the oldest eocene deposits in France,
which he refers to the genus Coryphodon : the last molar is identi¬
cal in form with the tooth from the plastic clay of Essex, on which
the genus was originally founded.
Genus Pliolophus, Ow.—The most complete and instructive ex¬
ample of a Mammal from the next overlying division of the eocene
tertiaries, viz., the “ London clay,” is that which the writer has
described5 under the name of Pliolophus vulpiceps. It is a hoofed
Herbivore, but presents a dentition not exhibited by any later or
existing species of Mammal.
The length of the skull (fig. 89) is 4 inches, its extreme breadth
Fig. 89.
Skull of Pliolophus vulpiceps (half nat. size), London clay.
2 inches 2 lines, the height of the cranium opposite the first pre¬
molar tooth 9 lines. Its shape and characteristics determine the
hoofed nature of this species, and its affinities to the Perissodactyla,
or the order of Ungulata with toes in odd number. The extent and
well-defined boundary of the temporal fossae by the occipital (3),
parietal (7), and post-frontal ridges, and their free communication
with the orbits, give almost a carnivorous character to this part of
the cranium of Pliolophus; but as in the hog, Hyrax, and Palaeothere,
the greatest cerebral expansion is at the middle and toward the
fore part of the fossae, with a contraction toward the occiput; the
brain-case not continuing to enlarge backward to beyond the origin
of the zygomata, as in the fox. The zygomatic arches have a less
outward span than in the Carnivora. In this part of the cranial
structure Pliolophus resembles Palceotherium more than it does any
existing Mammal; but the post-frontal processes are longer and
more inclined backward. The incompleteness of the orbit occurs in
both Anoplotherium and Palceotherium, as in Rhinoceros, Tapirus, and
the hog tribe ; but in the extent of the deficient rim, Pliolophus is
intermediate between Palceotherium and Tapirus. The orbit is not
so low placed as in Palceotherium, Tapirus, and Rhinoceros, nor so
high as in Hyrax or Sus. The straight upper contour of the skull
(7 to 15) is like that in the horse tribe and Hyrax, and differs from
the convex contour of the same part in the Anoplothere and Palaso-
there. The size of the antorbital foramen (a) indicates no unusual
development of the muzzle or upper lip. In the conformation of
the nasal aperture by four bones (two nasals, 15, and two pre-
maxillaries, 22), Pliolophus resembles the horse, Hyrax, hog tribe,
and Anoplothere, and differs from the rhinoceros, tapir, and Palaeo¬
there, which have the maxillaries, as well as the nasals and pre-
maxillaries, entering into the formation of the external bony
nostril.
The ungulate and herbivorous character of Pliolophus is most
distinctly marked by the modifications of the lower jaw, especially
by the relative dimensions of the parts of the ascending ramus
1 Hist, of Brit. Fossil Mammals, 8vo, p. 299, figs. 103, 104. 2 In plate i. of the writer’s Memoir of the Nautilus, 4to, 1832.
3 Hist. Brit. Foss. Mamm., p. 306, fig. 105.
4 Comptes Rendus de VAcad, des Sciences, Paris, 26th January 1857 [Coryphodon Oweni, Hebert).
5 Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, vol. xiv., p. 54.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
163
Mammalia, which give the extent of attachment of the biting (temporal) and
i ! , y grinding (masseteric and pterygoid) muscles respectively. In
v the shape of the mandible Pliolophus most resembles Tapirus among
existing Mammals, and the Palceotherium among the extinct ones in
which that shape is known. As in almost every species of eocene
quadruped yet discovered, the Pliolophus presents the type-dentition
of the placental diphyodont series, viz.:—
3-3
3—3’
1—1
i=r
i—V —
3-3 A A 1
m =44.1
The incisors are preserved in the lower jaw with marks of attri¬
tion on their crowns demonstrating corresponding teeth of the same
number (6), and of similar size, in the upper jaw, from which the
alveolar part of the premaxillaries had been broken away.
The canines are small in both jaws : they are separated by a vacant
space from the outer incisors, and by a longer interval from the
first premolars. These form a continuous series with the remaining
teeth in the upper jaw, but are separated by a space of about half
their breadth from the second premolar in the lower jaw. The suc¬
ceeding teeth (p, T, 2, 3, 4) increase in size to the penultimate molar
in the upper, and to the last molar in the lower jaw (p, 4, in figs.
90 and 91), which tooth has a third lobe.
Fig. 90.
True Molars, Upper Jaw (twice
nat. size), Pliolophus.
fig. 91.
True Molars, Lower Jaw (twice
nat. size), Pliolophus.
In the last premolar upper jaw (fig. 90, p, 4) the cingulum is
uninterrupted along the outer side from its anterior well-developed
talon (e) to the back part. The two outer cones resemble those of
the true molars; but there is only one inner cone, and the crown
of p, 4 differs accordingly from that of m, 1, in being triangular
ra her than square. A ridge is continued from the interspace be¬
tween the anterior talon (c), and the outer anterior lobe obliquely
inward and backward to the inner lobe, swelling into a small
tubercle at the middle of its course.
The first molar (m, 1) presents four low thick cones, two internal
and two external: each external cone is connected with its opposite
internal one by a low ridge, swelling into a tubercle at the middle
of its oblique course. The cingulum (cc) seems to be continued
uninterruptedly round the crown of this tooth, thickest at the fore
and back part, and at the interspace of the inner lobes; and de¬
veloping the small accessory antero-external tubercle. The second
molar (m, 2) is similar to, but rather larger than, the first; the
tubercle on the oblique ridge connecting the two front lobes is less
developed. The cingulum is obliterated on the inner side of the
posterior lobe.
The last molar is rather narrower behind than m, 2; the tubercle
on the anterior of the oblique connecting ridges is smaller : that on
the posterior ridge is almost obsolete.
In the last lower premolar (fig. 91, p, 4) the division and develop¬
ment of the anterior lobe gives rise to a pair of e
cones, one external (a), the other internal (6), ^
connected anteriorly by a basal ridge, in front ^ ^
of which is the fore part of the cingulum.
The low posterior lobe (e) shows the rudiment
of a second internal cone (d).
The first molar (fig. 91, m, 1) has a pair
of front lobes and a pair of hind lobes, with
an oblique ridge continued from postero-inter-
nal lobe to the interspace between the front ,, , T  
pair> ^ True Molar, Lower
The second molar (m, 2) shows an increase of ^aw (m'iSn,)>
size ; but its chief and most interesting modi- reo9nat us 00 1 1
fication is t ie development of a tubercle (e)be- cus’
tween the two anterior lobes, making three cones on the same Mammalia,
transverse line, and thus repeating the character of the molar
tooth of Stereognathus (fig. 92, e). The oblique ridge from the
outer and hinder lobe (c) abuts against the intermediate tubercle (e).
The nearest approach to the above dentition is made by the extinct
Hyracotherium, also a fossil from the London clay.
The third trochanter on the femur of Pliolophus, and the asso¬
ciation of three metatarsals in one portion of the matrix, as if
belonging to the same hind foot, confirm the essentially pe-
rissodactyle affinities of that genus as shown by the skull and
teeth. Pliolophus and Hyracotherium form a well-marked section
in the lophiodont family, which seems to have preceded the palaso-
therian family in the order of appearance, and to have retained
more of the general ungulate type than that family. This is
shown by the graduation of the tapiroid modification of the molar
teeth into one more nearly resembling that of the Anthracotheria
and Chceropatami; by the absence of the postero-internal cone on
the ultimate premolar, by which all the premolars are, as in artio-
dactyles, less complex than the true molars, by the form and posi¬
tion of the nasal bones and the structure of the external nostril.
Genus Lophiodon, Cuv.—In the year 1800 Cuvier2 first an¬
nounced the discovery of the fossil remains of a quadruped allied
to and of the size of the tapir, in the lacustrine deposits of the
Montagne Noir, near Issel, department of Aude in Languedoc.
The outer incisor of the lower jaw was shortened to give room to
the longer corresponding incisor above, as in the tapir; the
canines offered the same proportional development, but the
three first molars (premolars) of the lower jaw presented a more
simple structure, having the crown compressed, and forming two
cones, the front one being the largest;—in short, a structure, the
type of which is presented only by the first of the three premolars
(p, 2) in the genus TapirusA
Years elapsed ere Cuvier obtained clear evidence of the struc¬
ture of the upper molars of this new fossil Mammal. Such de¬
tached teeth as had been obtained from the fresh-water formations
near Issel were referred, owing to the way in which they departed
from the type of the upper molar teeth of the Tapir, to the genus
Rhinoceros. This fact is indicative of the annectant affinities of
the Lophiodon in the perissodactyle series.4 Besides the character
of form, the upper molar series of Lophiodon differs, like the lower
one, from that in Tapirus, in the greater simplicity of the last two
premolars; these teeth have a single cone on the inner side in
Lophiodon ; they have there two cones in Tapirus, forming the
inner terminations of two transverse ridges, as in the true molars.
These teeth in the Lophiodon differ from those in the Tapirus in
the greater fore-and-aft expanse of the outer terminations of the
transverse ridges, and the less depth of the cleft between them—a
more complete coalescence of those parts causing a more entire
outer wall of the crown, completes the transition to the Rhinoceros
type, towards which the Palaeotherium offers the next step.
Genus PALiEOTHERiuM, Cuv.—This extinct genus of quadruped
was restored (fig. 93) by Cuvier through a series of admirably
instructive steps, ultimately verified by a complete series of
fossils, obtained chiefly from the upper eocene gypseous for¬
mation at Montmartre and other parts of Prance. The molar
teeth of Palceotherium (fig. 94) approach nearer to those of
Restoration of the Palceotherium (Eocene Gyps.)
the rhinoceros; but in the number, kind, and general arrange¬
ment the entire dentition resembles that of Pliolophus. The skull
affords indications that the Palseothere possessed a short probos¬
cis. It had three toes on each foot, each terminated by a hoof;
1 See art. Odontology, vol. xvi., p. 448, for Cuvier’s
2 Bulletin des Sciences, Paris, Nivose, an. viii., No, 34.
« Homologies of the Teeth,” and explanation of their symbols.
3 Art. Odontology, p. 471, fig. 136,2>, 2.
4 Ibid, p. 470,
164
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia, the middle one being the largest. The femur had a third trochanter,
' ^ i and the dorso-lumhar vertebree were 21 in number. Several species
of Palceotherium have been determined, ranging from the size of
a sheep (P. curtum) to that of a horse (P. magnum). Fig. 94
gives the grinding surface of an upper molar of this species from
the upper eocene of the Bembridge beds, Isle of Wight. The
crown is divided into an
anterior (i>, d) and poste¬
rior (a, e) part by an ob¬
lique figure (e), continued
from near the. middle of
the inner surface of the
crown obliquely acrosstwo-
thirds of the tooth. Each
division is subdivided par¬
tially into an outer {ab)
and an inner (cd) lobes ;
the anterior division, by
the terminal expansion (i)
of the fissure («), the poste¬
rior one by the fissure (gr).
The lobes (c and d) are bor¬
dered near their base by a
ridge. This is the type of
Fig. 94.
Upper Molar, Palceotherium magnum
(Eocene.)
grinding surface, in which are superinduced the modifications of
that surface in the upper molars of the rhinoceros and horse. The
1 Pt
The
canines exceed in length the other teeth’ and there are conse¬
quently vacancies in the dental series for the lodgement of the
crowns of the canines when the mouth is shut.
Genus Anoplotherium, Cuv.—With the same dental formula
as in Palceotherium. The present genus, like Dichodon, had no
interval in the series of teeth; neither the canine nor any other
tooth rising above the general level.
The grinding surface of the molar teeth
somewhat resembles and prefigures the
ruminant type ; in the upper jaw the
crown (fig. 95) is divided into a front
(/c) and a back (fd) lobe by a valley
(e) extending two-thirds across. A
second valley (gi) crosses its termina¬
tion at right angles, forming a curved
depression in each division, which it
thus subdivides into two lobes, concave
towards the outer side of the tooth.
There is a large tubercle (m) at the
wide entry of the valley (e). The
Anoplothere (fig. 96) was of a lighter
and more elegant form than the Palajothere ; its limbs terminated
each in two digits, with the metapodial bones distinct, and the last
phalanx hoofed. Some transitory characters of the embryo rumi¬
nant were retained throughout life by the Anoplothere. The
species restored in fig, 96 was about the size of a fallow-deer it
Fig. 95.
Upper Molar, Anoplothe¬
rium commune (Eocene
Gyps.)
Restoration of the Anoplotherium (Eocene Gyps.)
had a long and strong tail, and was probably of aquatic habits.
Smaller and more delicate species of Anoplotheroids from upper
eocene strata have been referred to distinct genera by later palae¬
ontologists. The researches of Baron Cuvier, which resulted in
the restoration of the Palceotherium and Anoplotherium, are the
imost instructive which the palaeontologist can study. They form
the third volume of the 4to edition of the Ossemens Fossiles, 1822—5,
_ Genus Dichodon, Ow.—The upper eocene beds of Hampshire have
yielded evidence of an extinct form of even-toed (artiodactyle) hoofed
,quadruped, most interesting as a transitional form between the Ano-
jplotheroids and the true Ruminants. Like the Anoplotherium the
dental series is continuous, without break—a character which is Mammalia,
only manifested by mankind among existing Mammals ; the crowns \ ^ — J
of the teeth, in Dichodon, being all of nearly equal height, as they
are in man. On each side of both upper and lower jaws there are
in the Dichodon (art. Odontology, fig. 1.18) three incisors (i, i,
2, 3), one canine (e), four premolars (p, 1, 2, 3, 4), and three true
molars (m, 1, 2, 3)—in all forty-four teeth, constituting the typical
Diphyodont1 dentition which so many mammalian genera, on their
first appearance in the eocene strata, exhibit. It is formalized
as follows :—i «jzT’ From the first incisor to
the third premolar the teeth have all a trenchant, and, after the
canine, a somewhat trenchant character. The back of the third pre¬
molar (p, 3), and all the fourth premolar, show the crushing form of
crown, which in the true molars, after the wearing down of the
first sharp cusps, produces the double crescentic lines of enamel
which are now peculiar to the Ruminants amongst hoofed quadru¬
peds. The extinct species showing the above characters, and on
which the genus was founded,2 was nearly the size of a fallow-
deer : it is called Dichodon cuspidatus, in reference to the number
of sharp points on the unworn molars. The dentition indicates
that its food may have been of a peculiar character, perhaps not
exclusively of a vegetable nature.
In the same upper eocene formation of Hampshire have been
found instructive examples of some smaller members of the ex¬
tinct anoplotheroid family.
Genus Dichobune,— The genus Dichobune (from 3/^a, bipartite;
fiovvos, collis) was proposed by Cuvier, in the second edition of his
Ossemens Fossiles, 4to, tom. iii., 1822, p. 64, for the Anoplo¬
therium minus of the original Memoir in the Annales du Museum,
tom. iii., 1803, and for the A. leporinum of the 4to edition, 1822,
tom. i., pi. 2, fig. 3 ; and tom. iii., pp. 70 and 251. It is closely
allied to the anoplotherioid genus Xiphodon ; the dental formula
is the same, only there is a slight interval between the canine and
the first premolar in both jaws ; the first three premolars are sub¬
compressed, subtrenchant, but less elongated from behind forwards
than in Xiphodon. Besides the two normally-developed and
functional digits on each foot, there be one, sometimes two, supple¬
mented digits.
The best illustration of the structure of the upper true molars is
afforded by the figure of one of these teeth in the Proceedings of the
Geological Society, May 20, 1846, published in the Quarterly
Journal, vol. ii., p. 420. “ The anoplotherian character of the
tooth is shown by the large size of the lobe (p, x, fig. 1), and the
subgeneric peculiarity by the continuation of its dentinal base with
that of the inner and anterior lobe {id), at the early stage of attri¬
tion presented by the crown of the tooth in question. In the large
and typical Anoplotheria, the lobe (p) preserves its insular form
and uninterrupted contour of enamel until the crown is much more
worn down than in the present tooth (fig. 1). In this respect, as
in the modifications of the lower molar teeth, the genus Dichobune
shows its closer affinity to the true Ruminants ; but the little fold
of enamel dividing the lobe id from p distinguishes the upper
molar tooth in question from that of any Ruminant.” (P. 421.)
A new and interesting species of this genus, called Dichobune
ovina, has been founded upon an almost entire lower jaw with the
permanent dental series, wanting only the four middle incisors,
which now forms part of the palaeontological collection in the Bri¬
tish Museum. The dental formula, as shown by the mandibular
teeth, and by the evidence on their crowns of the presence of the
teeth of the upper jaw, is the typical one in diphyodont Mammalia,
viz.:—«|^-, c^i, P 4E4) m|=4=44. The canine, with a crown like
that of the first premolar, and not longer, is separated from it by
an interval of half the breadth of the crown, and by a narrower
interval from- the outer incisor. The first premolar is divided •
by an interval of scarce a line’s breadth from the second. The rest
of the molar series are in contact. The total length of the lower
jaw is 5 inches 11 lines (0m-148) j that of the molar series is 2 inches
11 lines (0ra'075) ; that of the three true molars is 1 inch 4J lines
(0m,035). The near equality in height of the crowns of all the teeth,
and their general character, show that the animal belonged to the
anoplotheroid family. The dentition of the present species differs
from that of Dichodon in the absence of the accessory cusps on
the inner side of the base of the true molars; and both from Dicho¬
don cuspidatus and Xiphodon gracilis in the minor antero-posterior
extent of the premolars ; it corresponds with Dichobune (as repre¬
sented by the D. leporina, Cuvier) in the proportions of the pre-
molars and in the separation of the canine from the adjoining teeth ;
to this genus, therefore, the fossil is referable, provisionally, in the
absence of knowledge of the molars of the upper jaw, which are
the most characteristic; and the writer has proposed to call the
i1 See art. Odontology, p. 439.
2 Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, tom. iv., 1847, p. 36, pi. 4.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
165
Mammalia, species, from the size of the animal represented by the fossil, Di-
j chobune ovina. It is from Hampshire eocene.
~v Genus Xiphodon.—The genus Xiphodon was indicated, and its
name proposed, by Cuvier, for a small and delicate, long and
slender-limbed anoplotherian animal, which, in his first Memoir
(Annales du Museum, tom. iii., p. 55, 1803), he had called Anoplo-
therium medium; but he altered the name, in the second 4to edition
of the Ossemens Fossiles (tom. iii., pp. 69 and 251, 1822), to that
of Anoplotherium gracile.
The distinction indicated by Cuvier is now acccepted by paleon¬
tologists as a generic one, and a second species (Xiphodon Geylensis)
has been added by M. Gervais (Paleontographie FranQaise, 4to, 1845,
p. 90) to the type-species, Xiphodon gracilis, of which he figures an
instructive portion of the dental series of both jaws, obtained from
the lignites of Debruge near Apt. The dental formula of Xipho-
don is the typical one, viz.:—iz ^, cyiy, p\ p =
The teeth are arranged in a continuous series in both jaws. The
canines and first three premolars have the crowns more extended
antero-posteriorly, lower, thinner transversely, and more trench¬
ant, than in the type Anoplotheria (whence the name Xiphodon, or
sword-tooth). The feet are didactyle, with metacarpals and meta¬
tarsals distinct. The tail is short. The lower true molars have two
pairs of crescentic lobes with the convexity turned outwards.
Genus Miceotherium.—Entire crania of Microtherium, from the
lacustrine calcareous marls of the Puy-de-D6me, are in the British
Museum, and these show that the hinder division of the upper true
molars was complicated by the additional (third) cusp.
With regard to Microtherium, the unusually perfect fossil skulls
of that small Herbivore, which did not exceed in size the delicate
chevrotains of Java and other Indo-Archipelagic islands,—e.g. Tra-
gulus kanchil,—are of importance in regard to the question of their
alleged affinity to the Ruminantia, on account of the demonstration
they give of the persistent and functional upper incisor teeth. The
little eocene even-toed Herbivores, like the larger Anoplotherioids,
thus departed from the characters of the true Ruminants of the
present day, in the same degree in which they adhered to the more
general type of the artiodactyles. Had M. de Blainville, who be¬
lieved them to be Ruminants, possessed no other evidence of the
Microtherium than of the Dichobune murina and Dichobune obliqua,
Cuv., he would have had the same grounds for referring the Micro-
theria, as the Bichobunes, to the genus Tragulus or Moschus (les
Chevrotains); but the entire dentition of the upper jaw of the
species Anoplotherium murinum and A. obliquum, referred by Cuvier
to his genus Dichobune, must be known before the existence of
Ruminants in the upper eocene gypsum of Paris can be inferred.
No doubt the affinity of these small Anoplotheroids to the
Chevrotains was very close. Let the formative force be transferred
from the small upper incisors to the contiguous canines, and the
transition would be effected. We know that the Ruminant stomach
of the species of Tragulus is simplified by the suppression of the
psalterium or third bag. The stomach of the small Anoplotheroids,
whilst preserving a certain degree of complexity, might have been
somewhat more simplified. The certain information which the
gradations of dentition displayed by the above-cited extinct species
impart, testifies to the artificial character of the order Ruminantia
of the modern systems, and to the natural character of that wider
group of even-toed hoofed animals for which has been proposed the
term Aryiodactyla.1
Genus Hy.enodon, Laiz.—With the delicate and beautiful Her-
bivora of the upper eocene and lower miocene periods, there co¬
existed carnivorous quadrupeds, which, to judge by the character of
their flesh-cutting teeth (carnassials), were more fell and deadly in
their destructive task than modern wolves or tigers. Of these old
extinct Carnivora a species of the remarkable genus Hycenodon, of
about the size of a leopard, has left its remains in the upper eocene
of Hordwell, Hampshire. Fig. 113, art. Odontology (vol. xvi., p.
464), shows the dentition of the under jaw of another species of the
same genns from miocene beds at Debruge and Alais, France. The
carnassial teeth (to, i, 2, 3), instead of being one in number in each
ramus of the jaw, as in modern Felines, were three in number,
equally adapted by their trenchant shape, to work like scissor-
blades on the teeth of the upper jaw, in the act of cutting flesh.
After the small incisors came a pair of large piercing and prehen¬
sile canines (c), followed by four compressed pointed and trenchant
premolars (p, 1, 2, 3, 4) in each side of the jaw; the whole of
this carnivorous dentition conforming to the diphyodont type :—
.3-3 ,1-1 4-4 3-3 ,,
13-3 ’ c i-i ’ 4-4 > ”* 3-3 —
Genus Amphicyon. — With the foregoing predecessor of the
digitigrade Carnivora was associated a forerunner of the planti¬
grade family, viz., a large extinct species having the molars tuber-
culated, after the pattern of those of the bears ; but retaining, like Mammalia.
Hycenodon, the perfect type of diphyodont dentition. Fig. 114, 1 ^
art. Odontology (vol. xvi., p. 464), shows the teeth of one'side of
the upper jaw of the Amphicyon giganteus. The first and second
molars (to, i and 2) have each two tubercles on the outer side and
one on the inner side; the last tubercular molar (to, 3) is of
very small size. Fossil remains of Amphicyon have been found
principally in the miocene deposits at Sansans, south of France.
Those of a smaller species from the miocene at Epplesheim, have
been referred to the wolverine genus as Gulo diaphorus, Kaup.
The proofs of the abundant mammalian inhabitants of the eocene
continent were first obtained by Cuvier from the fossilized remains
in the deposits that fill the enormous Parisian excavation of the
chalk. But the forms which that great anatomist restored were
all new and strange, specifically, and for the most part generically
distinct from all known existing quadrupeds. By these restorations
the naturalist was first made acquainted with the aquatic cloven-
hoofed Anoplothere, and with its light and graceful congeners, the
Dichobunes and Xiphodon, with the great Palaeotheres, which may
be likened to hornless rhinoceroses, with the more tapiroid Lophio-
don, with the large peccari-like Pachyderm called Chceropotamus,
and with about a score of other genera and species of placental
Mammalia.
Almost the sole exception to the generic distinction of these
eocene forms from modern ones was yielded by the opossum of
Montmartre (Didelphis Gypsorum, fig. 97) ; and what made this
discovery the more remarkable was the fact that all the known
existing species of that marsupial genus are now confined to
America, and the greater part to the southern division of that
continent. An opossum appears to have been associated with the
peccari-like Hyracothe-
rium in the eocene sand
of Suffolk ; where like¬
wise, a porcine beast
with tusks like ordinary
canines (Chceropotamus),
and some remains of
a monkey (Eopithecus),
have been found. With
respect to the Didelphis
Gypsorum, its generic
relations were deduced
from characters of the
lower jaw and teeth ;
but these were asso¬
ciated with other parts
of the skeleton in the
same block of stone.
When Cuvier expressed
his convictions from the
teeth and other parts
first exposed and exa¬
mined, his scientific
associates were incredu- _ , . ^ •
lous. He invited then*, Pelvis and Marsupial Bones of Dtdelphis
therefore, to witness a Gypsorum (Eocene, Paris),
crucial test. The outline of the back part of the pelvis was ex¬
posed, the fore part buried in the matrix. By his delicate use of
the graving-tool, Cuvier brought to light the fore-part of the
pelvis with the two marsupial bones (fig. 97, a, a) in their natural
position. He thus demonstrated that there had been buried in the
soft fresh-water deposits, hardened in after ages into the building-
stone of Paris, an animal whose genus at the present day is pecu¬
liar to America. It is not uninteresting to remark that the Peccari,
the nearest existing ally to the old Chceropotamus, is, like the
opossum, now peculiar to America ; and that two species of tapir,
the nearest living allies to the Lophiodon and Palaeothere, exist in
South America.
The marine deposits of the miocene epoch show the remains of
extinct genera of dolphins (Ziphius and Dioplodon) and of whales
(Balcenodon). Petrified
cetaceous teeth and ear-
bones, called “ cetoto-
lites” (fig. 98) have been
washed out of previous
strata into the red crag
of Suffolk. These fossils
belong to species distinct
from any known existing
Cetacea, and which, pro- Cetotolite or Fossil Ear-bone of Balceno-
bably, like some contem- don gibbosus (Red Crag, Suffolk).
Fig. 98.
* Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, vol. iv., 1847.
166
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia, porary quadrupeds, retained fully-developed characters which are
y ^ embryonic and transitory in existing cognate Mammals. The teeth
of these Cetacea were determined in 1840, the ear-bones in 1843.
The vast numbers of these fossils, and the proportion of phosphate
of lime in them, led Professor Henslow1 to call the attention of
agricultural chemists to the red crag as a deposit of valuable
manure. Since that period it has yielded a large supply, worth
many thousand pounds annually, of the superphosphates. The
red crag is found in patches from Walton-on-Naze, Essex, to
Aldbro’, Suffolk, extending from the shore to 5 or 15 miles and
more inland. It averages in thickness 10 feet, but is in some
places 40 feet. Broken-up septarian nodules form a rude flooring
to the crag, left by the washing off of the London clay, and called
“ rough stone.” The phosphatic fossils, or “ cops,” as they are
now locally termed, occur in greatest abundance immediately above
the “ rough-stone.” Thousands of cubic acres of earlier strata
must have been broken up to furnish the cetacean nodules of the
tl red crag.” This is a striking instance of the profitable results
of a seemingly most unpromising discovery in pure science,—the
determination of what in 1840 was regarded as a rare, unique, and
most problematical British fossil.2
Our knowledge of the progression of mammalian life during the
miocene period is derived chiefly from continental fossils. These
teach us that one or two of the generic forms most frequent in the
older tertiary strata still lingered on the earth, but that the rest
of the eocene Mammalia had been superseded by new forms, some
of which present characters intermediate between those of eocene
and those of pliocene genera. The Dinotherium and narrow-
toothed Mastodon, for example, diminish the interval between the
Lophiodon and the elephant; the Anthracotherium and Ilippohyus,
that between Chceropotamus and Hippopotamus ; the Acerotherium
was a link connecting Palceotherium with Rhinoceros.
One of the most extraordinary of the extinct forms of the ceta¬
ceous order has been restored from fossil remains discovered in
formations of the miocene age in Europe and North America. The
teeth of this carnivorous whale, for which the generic name Zeu-
glodon seems now to be generally accepted, were first described and
figured by the mediaeval palaeontologist Scilla, in his treatise en¬
titled He Corporibus Marinis (4to, 1747, tab. xii., fig. 1), and have
since given rise to various interpretations. The originals were
obtained from the miocene strata at Malta, and are now preserved
in the Woodwardian museum at Cambridge.
The remains of a gigantic species of the same genus, discovered
by Dr Harlan in miocene formations of Arkansas, Mississippi,
were described and figured by him as those of a reptile, under the
name of Basilosaurus.3 * Teeth of a smaller species, discovered by
M. Grateloup, in miocene beds of the Gironde and Herault, were
ascribed by him also to a reptile, under the name of SqualodonA
In 1839 Dr Harlan brought over his specimens of Basilosaurus to
London, and submitted them to the writer’s inspection, by whom
they were determined to be mammalian and cetaceous. The entire
skeleton has since been obtained from miocene deposits in Ala¬
bama, revealing a length of body of about 70 feet. The skull is
very long and narrow \ the nostril single, with an upward aspect,
above and near the orbits. The jaws are armed with teeth of two
kinds, set wide apart; the anterior teeth have sub-compressed,
conical, slightly-recurved, sharp-pointed crowns, and are implanted
by a single root; the posterior teeth are larger, with more
compressed and longitudinally extended crowns (see fig. 65, art.
Odontology), conical, but with a more obtuse point, and with
both front and hind borders strongly notched or serrated. The
crown is contracted from side to side in the middle of its base, so
as to give its transverse section an hour-glass form (see fig. 66,
Odontology), and the opposite wide longitudinal grooves which
produce this form become deeper as the crown approaches the
socket, where they meet and divide the root into two fangs. The
name Zeuglodon (yoke-tooth) refers to this structure. The mode
of succession of the teeth in this genus conforms to the general
mammalian type more than does that of any of the existing carni¬
vorous Cetaceans. In the figure given by Dr Carus5 of a portion of
the jaw of Zeuglodon cetdides, a deciduous molar (fig. 65, a, Odon¬
tology) is about to be displaced and succeeded, vertically, by a
second larger molar. This mode of succession is not known in the
Platanista or Inia, which among existing true Cetacea present teeth
most like those of Zeuglodon; but it is a mode of succession and dis¬
placement affecting certain teeth in the herbivorous Cetacea, or
Sirenia ; and we thus seem to have in the Zeuglodon another of those
numerous instances of a more generalized character of organiza¬
tion in older tertiary Mammalia. In systematic characters, Zeuglo¬
don typifies a distinct family or group, intermediate between Cetacea Mammalia,
proper and Sirenia. ^
Of the latter family or order, however, represented at the present
day by the Dugongs, Manatees, and Stellerians or Arctic Manatees
(if the species still survives), there were abundant and more widely
distributed representatives during the miocene period, having,
upon the whole, the nearest affinity with the existing African
Manatee {Manatus Senegalensis), but with associated characters of
the Dugong (Halicore). There were, e.g., two incisive tusks in the
upper jaw, and four or five small incisors along the deflected part
of each ramus of the lower jaw. The upper molars, with three
roots, were thickly enamelled, like those of the Manatee, but with
a pattern of grinding surface which led Cuvier to attribute de¬
tached specimens to a small species of Hippopotamus. The lower
molars had two roots. All the bones have the dense or solid struc¬
ture of those of the Sirenia. On the remains of this remarkable
amphibious Mammal, discovered by Kaup in 1838, in the miocene
beds at Eppelsheim, he founded the genus Halitherium. Other re¬
mains have been discovered in Piedmont, Ast6, and many parts of
France, from the “ calcaire grossier” of the Gironde, containing
Lophiodont fossils, up to the pliocene near Montpellier; at which
period the Halitherium seems to have become extinct.
Genus Macrotherium, Lartet.—The edentate order, which is so
abundantly and variously represented in South America, which has
its Orycteropes and Pangolins in Africa, and its Manises in tropi¬
cal Asia, has no living representative in Europe. Perhaps the
most unexpected form of Mammal to be revealed by fossil remains
from European tertiary deposits, after a Marsupial, was a member
of the edentate order. Cuvier, by whom the evidence of this ex¬
tinct animal was first made known, prefaces his description of the
single mutilated phalangeal bone, on which that evidence was
founded, by the remark, that “ nothing proves better the import¬
ance of the laws of comparative osteology than all the consequences
which one may legitimately draw from a single fragment.” One
willingly admits the proof so afforded of the former existence of
animals now unknown ; but one may demur to the conclusion that
their extinction was due to some sudden catastrophe.
The single mutilated ungual phalanx on which Cuvier based his
conclusions in regard to the species in question was discovered,
associated with remains of Rhinoceros, Mastodon, Dinotherium, and
Tapir, in a formation near Eppelsheim, Hesse-Darmstadt, which is
now determined to belong to the miocene division of the tertiary
series. This phalanx shows two distinctive characters of the eden¬
tate order:—1st, Its posterior surface for articulation with the
antepenultimate phalanx is a double pulley, hollowed out on each
side, with a salient crest between, constituting the firm kind of
ginglymoid joint peculiar to certain Edentata ; 2d, The concave
arch formed by that pulley curves furthest backward at its upper
part, which would prevent the claw being retracted upward, as in
the cat tribe, and constrain the flexion downward—“ ainsi c’est
necessairement un ongueal d edente.’15 To the foregoing charac¬
ters are joined two others which Cuvier believed to determine “as
necessarily ” the genus. The species of Myrmecophaga have on
the upper part of the pointed end of the claw-phalanx a groove,
indicative of a disposition to bifurcate ; in the species of Manis
the bifurcation is complete, the cleftextending as far as the middle
of the claw-bone. The Pangolins (.Maw's) have not those bony
sheaths, which, in the sloths, some ant-eaters and armadillos, rise
from the base and cover the root of the claw ; there was a like ab¬
sence of any claw-sheath in the fossil. Thus the fossil claw-bone
has no homologue in existing nature save those of the Manis ; and,
“according to all the laws of co-existence, it is impossible to doubt
that the most marked relations of the animal that bore it should
have been with that genus of quadrupeds.”7 But what must have
been its size ? The phalanx was not one of the largest on the foot
—for it had not those slight raised borders which one sees in the
large claw-bones of the Pangolins. This question, which Cuvier
answered by the proportions of the short-tailed Manis, at 24 French
feet, has had a more reasonable reply given to it by certain other
bones of the skeleton subsequently discovered in the miocene ter-
tiaries of France. These discoveries have likewise rectified and
moderated the absolute application of the correlative law to the
necessary determination of the genus as well as of the order. The
relations of the double-jointed and cleft phalanx to the Edentata
is beautifully confirmed; but the additional fossils, and especially
some evidences of teeth, have shown that it belonged to a peculiar
and now extinct genus intermediate between the Manis and the
Orycteropus. And these relations are deeply interesting on ac¬
count of the geographical position of both those edentate genera, on
1 Proceedings, and Quarterly Jour. Geol. Soc., 1843.
3 Medical and Physical Researches, p. 333.
5 Nova Acta Cces. Leap. Carol., vol. xxii., tab. xxxix. B., fig. 2, p. 340.
7 Ibid., p. 194.
2 Hist, of Brit. Fossil Mammals, 8vo, p. 536.
4 Act. Soc. Linn, de Bordeaux, 1840, p. 201.
6 Ossemens Fossiles, 4to, t. v., pt. L, p. 193.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
167
Mammalia, tracts of land, viz., which are now most contiguous to the conti-
i nent containing the remains of the extinct osculant genus.
The locality in France is near the village of Sansan, near Auch,
department of Gers, Haute-Pyrenees. The formation is a lacus¬
trine deposit of the miocene period.
Portions of two molar teeth have been found, 1 inch 8 lines in
greatest transverse diameter; the tooth preserving the same size
and shape through the whole length of the portion—viz., inch.
They resemble in shape those of the Orycterope, but are less regu¬
lar and have not the same tubular tissue. Their microscopic
texture appears not to have been analysed; it would be important
to determine whether it resembled that of the teeth of the sloths or
armadillos. The humerus differs from that of the ant-eaters and
armadillos by its greater length in proportion to its breadth, and
by the peculiar flattening from before backwards of its lower half,
and especially at the condyles, above which it is expanded trans¬
versely by both external and internal supra-condyloid ridges. It
is not perforated above the inner condyle, as the same bone is in
both the Manis and Orycteropus. In the degree to which it de¬
parts from the type of the ant-eaters it approaches that of the
Megatheroids and sloths—viz., in its relative length, flattening at
the distal end, and the imperforate character of that end. The
radius also presents a sloth-like character in its greater propor¬
tionate length, which exceeds that of the humerus; and in the
compression of its lower slightly-expanded end. In both the
Pangolin and Orycterope the radius is shorter than the humerus.
The ulna differs likewise from both that of the Pangolin and
Orycterope, and still more from that in the Armadillos by the
much smaller development of the olecranon, whereby, again, it more
resembles that of the sloths. The femur is relatively longer and
more slender than that of the terrestrial and fossorial Edentata;
it has not the third trochanter which characterizes it in the
Orycterope, nor so marked a development of the great and small
trochanters as in the Pangolin. In the flattened form of the shaft
of the femur, and the position of the rotular surface near one side
of the distal end, it resembles the femur of the Megatherium and
Mylodon. It is shorter than the humerus; whereas, in both the
Pangolin and Orycterope the femur is longer: in this respect the
femur of the Macrothere resembles that of the sloths. The great
width of the popliteal space dividing the condyles is an endentate
and more especially a megatheroid character. The internal con¬
dyle is much broader than the external one, as it likewise is in the
Megatheroids; it is certainly with the femur of the latter family
of the Edentata, rather than with that of the Proboscidians or
Pachyderms, that one should compare the femur of the Macrothere :
it is not so long or so slender relatively as in the sloths. The tibia
is much shorter than the femur, and in the expansion of its proxi¬
mal end and its relative length to the femur it resembles that of
the Megatheroids more than that in the Pangolin or Orycterope;
it was not anchylosed to the tibia as in the Armadillos, Glyptodons,
and Megatherium, but a distinct bone, as in the Mylodon and
sloths.
Genus Pliopithecits, Gerv.—In the same miocene deposits of the
south of France as those which contained the Macrotherium, fossil
remains of two kinds of Quadrumana, resembling a small and large
species of Hylobates, have been discovered. The smaller of these
extinct apes, called Pliopithecus antiquus by Gervais, is based upon
the lower jaw and dentition. The teeth occupy an extent of 1J
inch; the two incisors are narrower, the canine less, and the last
molar is larger than in the siamang (H. syndactyla). As in this
species the first premolar is uni-cuspid, and the hind talon of the
second is more produced than in the chimpanzee and gorilla, and
to the degree in which the fore-and-aft diameter of the tooth ex¬
ceeds the transverse one, it departs farther from the human type ;
in the degree of the development of the talon or third lobe of the
last lower molar, the Pliopithecus resembles the tailed monkeys
(Semnopithecus and Innus).
Genus Dryopithecus, Lart.—In the larger miocene ape (TDryo-
pithecus Fontani, Lart.) the canine is relatively larger than in the
Hylobates, and the incisors, to judge by their alveoli, are relatively
narrower than in the chimpanzee and human subject. The first
premolar has the outer cusp pointed, and raised to double the
height of that of the second premolar, and its inner lobe is more
rudimental than in the chimpanzee,1 and departs proportionally
from the human type. The posterior lobe or talon of the second
premolar is more developed, and the fore-and-aft extent of the tooth
greater, than in the chimpanzee, thereby more resembling the second
premolar of the siamang, and less resembling that of the human sub¬
ject. The last (third) molar is undeveloped in the fossil jaw of the
Dryopithecus, and its amount of departure from the human type, and
approach to that of Innus, cannot be determined. The canine is
more vertical in position than in Troglodytes or Pithecus, but this Mammalia,
character is offered by some of the small South American apes,
and cannot be cited as a mark of real affinity. From the portion ~
of humerus associated with the jaw of Dryopithecus, the arm would
seem to have been proportionally longer and more slender than in
the chimpanzee and gorilla, more like that in the long-armed apes
(Hylobates), and less like the arm of the human subject.
The characters of the nasal bones, orbits, mastoid processes, re¬
lative length of upper limb to trunk, relative length of arm to
fore arm, relative length and size of thumb, relative length of
lower limb ; and, above all, the size of the hallux and shape of the
astragalus and calcaneum, must be known before any opinion can
be trusted as to the proximity of Dryopithecus to the human subject.
Genus Mesopithecus, Wagn.—In tertiary formations of Greece,
at the base of Pentelicon, remains of a Quadrumane have been
found, which Professor Wagner2 regards as transitional between
Hylobates and Semnopithecus: the third lobe of the last molar is
however, as well developed as in the latter genus.
In the pliocene deposits of Montpellier remains of a monkey
occur, referred by Christol to a Cercopithecus ; and in pliocene
brick-earth in Essex the writer has determined part of the fossil
jaw and teeth of a Macacus.
Genus Dinotherium, Cuv. and Kp.—This name was given by
Kaup to the huge bilophodont Mammal, first made known by
Cuvier under the name of “ Tapir gigantesque,” after the discovery
of the singular shape and armature of the lower jaw. The length
of the skull, from / to d, in fig. 99, is 3 feet 8 inches. The teeth
Fig. 99.
Skull of Dinotherium giganteum (Miocene, Eppelsheim).
in this skull, in addition to the two large deflected tusks of the
lower jaw, are five in number on each side of both jaws. A study
of the changes of dentition in fossils of young Dinotheria show that
the first two teeth answer to the third and fourth premolars, as
signified by the symbols p, 3 and 4; and that the rest are true
molars (m, 1, 2, 3). Of these, the first tooth (p, 3), is rather trenchant
than triturant; the third tooth (1) has three transverse ridges;
the other grinders have two transverse ridges. This “ bilopho¬
dont” or two-ridged type is shown by the molars of the Tapir,
Lophiodon, Megatherium, Diprotodon, Nototherium, Kangaroo, and
Manatee. In the general shape of the skull and aspect of the
nostrils Dinotherium most resembles Manatus. Bones of limbs
have not yet been found so associated with teeth as to determine
the ordinal affinities of Dinotherium. Yet cranial and dental evi¬
dences of the genus have been discovered in miocene deposits of
Germany, France, Switzerland, and Perim Island, Gulf of Cambay.
Genus Mastodon, Cuv.—The earliest appearance of this genus
of proboscidian or elephantoid Mammal is in tertiary strata of
miocene age, and by a species in which the fore part of the lower
1 Compare Comptes Rendus de VAcad, des Sciences, tom. xliii. (July 28, 1856, plate, fig. 7), with Trans. Zool. Soc., vol. iv., plate 32,
fig. 3, p. 3. 2 Abhanglungen der k. buyer Akademie, bd. ii., 1854, Munchen.
168
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia, jaw was produced into a pair of deep sockets containing tusks; but
.r -n ; these are only slightly deflected from the line of the grinding
teeth (fig. 100, C). This species of Mastodon, discovered in the
miocene of Eppelsheim, was called longirostris by Kaup; but he
afterwards recognised it as the same with a species which had
been previously called Mastodon arvernensis (Croizet and Jobert).1
Both belong to that section of Mastodon in which the first and
second true molars have each four transverse ridges,2 and for
which Dr Falconer proposes the name Tetralophodon. In the
newer tertiary deposits of North America remains of a Mastodon
(M. Ohioticus) have been discovered, in which the transverse ridges
of the grinders are in shape more like those of the Dinothere than
in any other Mastodon; the first and second, moreover, are bilo-
phodont, the third trilophodont; but this is followed by two three-
ridged molars and a last larger molar with four or five ridges.3
For the Mastodons with penultimate and antepenultimate grinders Mammalia,
with three ridges, Dr Falconer proposes the name Trilophodon. i M < .>
In the Mastodon Ohioticus the lower jaw has two tusks in the
young of both sexes; these are soon shed in the female, but are
long retained by the male (fig. 100, B). The upper tusks are
long and retained in both sexes (fig. 100, M).4
An almost entire skeleton of a Mastodon (M. turicencis) has been
discovered in the pliocene deposits of Aste, Piedmont, and has been
described and figured by Professor. Sismonda,5 from whose beautiful
Memoir fig. 100 is taken. The total length, from the tail to the
end of the tusks, is 17 feet. The teeth have the same narrow shape
and multi-mammillate structure as in M. arvernensis, but in the
numerical character of transverse divisions of the crown this
species agrees with M. Ohioticus. The Mastodons were elephants
with the grinding teeth less complex in structure, and adapted for
Fig. 100.
Mastodon turicencis (Pliocene) : A, B.—M. Ohioticus ; C.—M. longirostris.
bruising coarser vegetable substances. The genus was represented
by species ranging, in time, from the miocene to the upper pliocene
deposits, and in space, cosmopolitan with tropical and temperate
latitudes. The transition from the mastodontal to the elephantine
type of dentition is very gradual.
Genus Elephas, L.—The latest form of true elephant which
obtained its sustenance in temperate latitudes is that which
Blumenbach called primiyenius, the “ Mammoth ” of the Siberian
collectors of its tusks (fig. 101). Its remains occur chiefly, if not
exclusively, in pleistocene deposits, and have even been found in
turbary near Holyhead. Its grinders are broader, and have
narrower and more numerous and close-set transverse plates and
ridges, than in other elephants.6 The mammoth is more completely
known than most other extinct animals by reason of the discovery
of an entire specimen preserved in the frozen soil of a cliff at the
mouth of the river Lena in Siberia. The skin was clothed with a
reddish wool, and with long black hairs. It is now preserved at
St Petersburg, together with the skeleton (fig. 101). This mea¬
sures, from the fore part of the skull to the end of the mutilated
tail, 16 feet 4 inches; the height, to the top of the dorsal spines, is
9 feet 4 inches ; the length of the tusks, along the curve, is 9 feet
6 inches. Parts of the skin of the head, the eye-ball, and of the
strong ligament of the nape which helped to sustain the heavy
head and teeth, together with the hoofs, remain attached to the
skeleton. These huge elephants, adapted by their clothing to
endure a cold climate, subsisted on the branches and foliage of the
northern pines, birches, willows, &c.; and during the short sum¬
mer they probably migrated northward, like their contemporary the
musk-buffalo, which still lingers on, to the 70th degree of N. la¬
titude, retreating during the winter to more temperate quarters.
The mammoth was preceded in Europe by other species of ele¬
phant,—e.^r., Elephas meridionalis (Nesti), which, during the plio¬
cene period, seem not to have gone northward beyond temperate
latitudes. An elephant, hardly distinguishable from the African,
also roamed at that period in Europe.7
Genus Hippopotamus, L.—The discovery, in lacustrine and flu-
viatile deposits of Europe, of the remains of an amphibious genus
of Mammal now restricted to African rivers, gives scope for specu¬
lating on the nature of the land which, uniting England with the
Continent, was excavated by lakes and intersected by rivers, with
a somewhat warmer temperature than at present, to judge by a few
S. European shells which occur in the fresh-water formations,—e.g.,
at Grays, Essex, where remains of the large extinct Hippopotamus
major have been found. The specimen of lower jaw (fig. 102) was
discovered in similar deposits on the Norfolk coasts. Other loca¬
lities are specified in the writer’s History of British Fossil Mammals.
The hippopotamus is first met with in pliocene strata. The
remains of II. major have hitherto been found only in Europe;
they are common along the Mediterranean shore, and do not occur
north of the temperate zone. In Asia this form of Pachyderm was
represented, perhaps at an earlier period, by the genus Hexapro-
todon,—essentially a hippopotamus, with six incisor teeth, instead
of four, in each jaw.
Genus Rhinoceros, L.—The rhinoceros, like the elephant, was
represented in pliocene and pleistocene times, in temperate and
northern latitudes of Asia and Europe, by extinct species. One
1 Beitrage zur Naeheren Kenntniss der Urweltlichen Saeugethiere, 4to, 1857, p. 19. The name angustidens was first applied by Cuvier
to teeth of this type or species.
2 First demonstrated by Kaup, Ossemens Fossiles de Darmstadt, 4to, 1835. 3 Odontography, p. 617, pi. 144.
4 Ibid., p. 618. , 6 Osteografia di un Mastodonte augustidente, 4to, 1851.
6 See art. Odontology, p. 475, fig. 142.
7 Falconer “ On the Species of Elephant and Mastodon occurring in a fossil state in England,” Proc. Geol. Soc., June 1857.
PALAEONTOLOGY.
169
Mammalia. (Rhinoceros leptorhinus) associated with the Hippopotamus major in
i K j fresh-water pliocene deposits; another (R. tichorrhinus) with the
mammoth in pleistocene beds and drift. The discovery of the car¬
case of the tichorrine rhinoceros in frozen soil, recorded by Pallas Mammalia,
in his Voyages dans VAsie Septentrionale,1 showed the same adapta- '
tion of this, at present tropical, form of quadruped to a cold cli-
Fig. 101.
Elephas primigenius (Pleistocene).
mate, by a twofold covering of wool and hair, as was subsequently
demonstrated to be the case with the mammoth. Both the above-
Fig. 102.
Lower Jaw of Hippopotamus major (fresh-water Pliocene,
Cromer, Norfolk).
named fossil rhinoceroses were two-horned; but they were pre¬
ceded, in the pliocene and miocene periods, by species devoid of
horns, yet a rhinoceros in all other essentials (Acerotherium, Kaup).
Not fewer than twenty species of extinct rhinoceroses are entered
in Palaeontological catalogues.
Order RUMINANTIA.
Of other forms of beasts subsisting on the vegetable productions
of the earth, and more akin to actual European Herbivora, there
co-existed with the foregoing now exotic genera a vast assemblage
of species, nearly all of which have passed away. The quadrupeds
called “ Ruminants,” from the characteristic second mastication of
the partly-digested food by the act called “ rumination” or “ chew¬
ing the cud,” constitute at the present period a circumscribed group
of Mammalia, which Cuvier believed to be “ the most natural and
best-defined order of the class.”2 He characterized it as having
incisive teeth only in the lower jaw (fig. 107, c), which were re¬
placed in the upper jaw by a callous gum. Between the incisors
and molars is a diastema, in which, in certain genera only, may be
found one or two canines. The molars (fig. 107, h), almost always
six on each side of both jaws, have their crown marked by two
1 4to, 1793, pp. 130—132. 2 R^gne Animal, tom. i., p.
4 See art. Odontology, p. 466, fig. 118.
YOL. XVII.
double crescents, with the convexity turned inwards in the upper
set, outwards in the lower.3 The four legs are terminated by two
toes and two hoofs, flattened at the contiguous sides, so as to look
like a single hoof cloven ; whence the name “ cloven-footed,” also
given to these animals. The perfect circumscription and definition
of this order, so desirable by the systematic zoologist, is indeed in¬
vaded, in the actual Ruminantia, by certain peculiarities of the
camel tribe.
In entering upon the evidences of the first appearance in this
planet of the order of animals, which now are the most valuable to
man, it may be well to call to mind the characters of the Anoplo-
therium. The upper true molars have two double crescents, convex
inwards, one of the inner ones being encroached on by a large
tubercle, the reduced homologue of which may be seen in the in¬
ternal interspace of the crescents in the ox and some other Rumi¬
nants. The lower true molars also, at one stage of attrition, form
crescentic islands of enamel, with the convexity turned outwards,
as in Ruminants, the last molar having the accessory crescent be¬
hind. The functional hoofs were two in number on each foot, but
must have resembled those of the camel tribe in shape; the scaphoid
and cuboid of the tarsus were distinct also, as in the Camelidce ; and
the metacarpal and metatarsal bones were divided, as in the water
musk-deer (Moschus aquaticus), and in the embryos of all Rumi¬
nants. The dentition of the extinct Dichodon4 made a still nearer
approach to that of the Ruminants. The chief distinction of this
and other extinct Herbivores with double crescentic molars is the
completion of the upper series of teeth by well-developed incisors.
But the premaxillaries in the new-born camel contain each three
incisors, one of which becomes fully developed. The Camelidce are
hornless, like the Anoplotherioids and Dichodonts; and with one
exception—the giraffe—all Ruminants are born without horns.
Thus the Anoplotherium, in several important characters, re¬
sembled the embryo Ruminant, retaining throughout life those
marks of adhesion to a more generalized mammalian type. The
more modified or specialized form of hoofed animal, with cloven
foot and ruminating stomach, appears at a later period.
Family I.—Bovid^.
Fossil molars of the ruminant type and bovine character have
hitherto been found, with unequivocal evidence, to the writer’s
knowledge, only in beds or breccias of pliocene and pleistocene age.
254. 3 See art. Odontology, p. 466, figs. 120, 121.
Y
170
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia. At those periods in Britain there existed a very large species of
k r J bison [Bisonprisons), and a larger species of ox (Bos antiquus), from
pliocene fresh-water beds; whilst a somewhat smaller but still
stupendous wild ox [B. primigenius) has left its remains in pleis¬
tocene marls of England and Scotland. With this was associated
an aboriginal British ox of much smaller stature and with short
horns [B. longifrons), which continued to exist until the historical
period, and was probably the source of the domesticated cattle of
the Celtic races before the Roman invasion. A buffalo, not dis¬
tinguishable from the musk kind [Bubalus moschatus), now con¬
fined to the northern latitudes of North America, roamed over simi¬
lar latitudes of Europe and Asia in company with the hair-clad
elephants and rhinoceroses.
Family II.—Cervid^e.
Cuvier1 first made known the fact of teeth with the character of
ruminant molars, and of portions of antlers, being associated with
emains of Lophiodon and Mastodon in the fresh-water miocene
beds of Montabusard, department of the Loiret. These early rumi¬
nant fossils agreed in size with the roebuck ; but there were cha¬
racters showing that they differed almost generically from all known
deer. In 1834 Professor Kaup received from the miocene strata
near Eppelsheim, Darmstadt, the entire cranium of a small Rumi¬
nant, the teeth of which were identical with those described and
figured by Cuvier; but, the series being complete, showed that the
animal had long procumbent canines, as in the Moschus moschiferus ,•
in some secondary characters of the teeth, however, as in the pro¬
portions of the premolars, and especially the presence of the first of
that series, at least in the lower jaw, it was generically distinct
from Moschus or Tragulus. Moreover, the animal had possessed,
like the males of the small deer of India called “ Muntjac,” antlers
as well as long canine teeth. Both in the miocene beds of Ingre and
Eppelsheim, antlers have been found which were supported on long
pedicles, as in the muntjac, and simply bifurcate near their end.
It is probable that these horns, which have been referred to the
nominal species Cervus anocerus, may belong to the Dorcatherium
of Kaup.
Other species of CervidcB were, however, associated with that re¬
markable form in the miocene period. Dr Kaup ascribes some
more or less mutilated antlers, which had been shed, to a species he Mammalia,
calls C. dicranocerus. The beam rises from 1 to 2 inches without i , -, ■>
sending off any branch or brow-antler ; it then sends off a branch
so large and so oblique that the beam seems here to bifurcate ; the
anterior prong is, however, the smallest and shortest. The writer
has received similar shed and mutilated antlers from the red crag
of Sussex, which seems to contain a melange of broken-up beds of
eocene, miocene, and pliocene age.2
The cervine Ruminants have been divided into groups accord¬
ing to the forms of the antlers. Of the group with antlers ex¬
panded and flattened at top, of which the fallow-deer (Bama) is
the type, no fossil examples have been found in Britain. Cuvier
has described and figured antlers of great size from the pliocene
deposits of the valley of the Somme, near Abbeville, which, from
the relative position and direction of the brow-snag and mid-snag,
and from the terminal palm, he regards as a large extinct species
of fallow-deer ; the name Cervus Somonensis has since been attached
to this species. But there once existed a group [Megaceros,
fig. 103) characterized by a form of antler at present un¬
known amongst existing species of deer. With a beam
(b) expanding and flattening towards the summit, and a
brow-snag (p), as in the Bama tribe, this antler shows a
back-snag (bz). Moreover, in antlers which, from their
size and form, seem to have been developed by the deer
at its prime, the brow-snag expands and sometimes bi¬
furcates,—a variety never seen in the fallow-deer, but
which becomes exaggerated in the reindeer group. The re¬
presentative of the present Megaceros is one extinct species
\M. Hibernicus, fig. 103), remarkable for its great size,
and especially for the great relative magnitude and noble
form of its antlers : it is the species commonly but erro¬
neously called the “ Irish elkbecause it is a true deer,
intermediate between the fallow- and rein-deer; and
because, though most abundant in, it is not peculiar to,
Ireland. In that country it occurs in the shell-marl un¬
derlying the extensive turbaries. In England its remains
have been found in lacustrine beds, brick-earth, red clay,
and ossiferous caves.3
The reindeer [Cervus Tarandus) has peculiar antlers ,
(fig. 104), and proportionably the largest of any of ex¬
isting species. The beam is somewhat flattened through¬
out, but expands only and suddenly at its extremity, a
similar expansion characterizing the brow-snag (6r) and
mid-snag [bz), two, three, or more points being deve¬
loped from all these expansions in fully-developed antlers.
The brow-snag is remarkable for its length. There is
also frequently a short back-snag. It is plain, therefore,
from the presence of this snag, from the great relative
size of the antlers, from the complex brow-snag, and the
terminal expansion of the beam, that we have in the
reindeer the nearest of kin to the extinct Megaceros,
The existing species [Tarandus) is restricted to north¬
ern latitudes, ranging to extreme ones in Europe, and
in America from the Arctic Circle southward to the lati¬
tude of Newfoundland, where the large variety called
“ Carabou” still exists. Reindeer of similar size ranged
over continental Europe, appear to have been seen by
Caesar in Germany, and have left good evidence of their
existence in many parts of England. The specimen
figured (fig. 104) was found in pleistocene “till” at Bilney Moor,
East Dereham.
A large deer, with subcompressed ramified antlers, slightly ex¬
panding at the base of the terminal divisions, but differing from
the reindeer in the absence of the brow-snag, has left its remains
in the pleistocene sands of Riege, near Pezenas, France. It is the
Cervus martialis of Gervais ; and seems to have been an interme¬
diate form between the reindeer [Tarandus) and the elk [Alces).
There is no existing representative of this interesting annectant
form of deer.
In formations of corresponding age in France, called “ alluvions
volcaniques” by Gervais,4 fossil antlers of two other extinct species
of deer have been discovered, in which, as in Alces, the brow-
antler is absent, but in which the beam does not expand into a
palm.
In North America remains of a large deer [Cervus americanus
fossilis, Harlan), much resembling the Wapiti [Cervus canadensis)
have been found in pleistocene deposits on the banks of the Ohio.
In South America Dr Lund discovered fossil antlers of two
species in bone-caves in Brazil: they were associated with remains
of an antelope [Antilope maquinensis, Lund) of which genus no
living representative is now known in South America.
1 Ossemens Fossiles, 4to, tom. iv., p. 104, pi. viii., figs. 5 and 6.
3 Owen, Hist, of Brit. Fossil Mammals, p. 444.
2 Quarterly Jour, of the Qeol. Soc., vol. xii., 1856, p. 217, figs. 14-16.
4 Zoologie et Palceontologie Frangaise, 4to, p. 82.
i
PALAEONTOLOGY.
171
Mammalia.
Of deer with antlers of the type of the existing red-deer (C. ela-
phus), a species is indicated in pleistocene beds and bone caves
Fig. 104.
Skull and Antlers of Cervus Tarandus.
which rivalled the Megaceros in bulk (Strongyloceros spelceus); and
with this are found, in similar places of deposit, remains of a red-
deer with antlers equal¬
ling or surpassing the
finest that have been
observed within the his¬
torical period.
Fig. 105 represents
one of a pair of antlers
from the bed of the
Boyne at Drogheda,now
in the museum of Sir
Philip Egerton, Bart.,
which measures 30
inches in length, and
sends off not fewer than
fifteen branches or
“ snags. ” a is the
“ brow - snag,” which
rises immediately above
the “burr;” b the se¬
cond, c the third, and d
the “ crown ” or termi¬
nal cluster of snags,
which gave to the deer
developing them at the
period of his full per¬
fection the title of
“ crowned hart.”
The little roebuck,
like the red-deer, ap- ^'1S* IDO.
pears from its fossil re- Antler of Red-deer, from alluvium, Ireland.
mains to have continued to exist from the prehistorical pleistocene
times to the present period.
Order CARNIVORA.
The quadrupeds which subsist by preying upon others co-existed
under corresponding varieties of form, and in adequate numbers,
with the numerous and various Herbivora of the newer tertiary
periods. A brief description has already been made of some of the
singular forms, the genera of which are extinct, that lived in eocene
and miocene times.
Genus Galecynus, Ow.—In 1829 the fossil skeleton of a Car¬
nivore, of the size of a fox, was discovered by Sir Roderick I. Mur- Mammalia,
chison in the pliocene schist of CEningen. On a close comparison
of this specimen, the writer finds that the first premolar is smaller,
and the third and fourth larger than in the fox, and all the teeth
are more close-set and occupy a smaller space than in the genus
Ganis; the bones of the feet are more robust; and these, with
other characters, indicate an extinct genus intermediate between
Canis and Viverra.1 The unique specimen is now in the British
Museum.
Genus Felis, L.—As it is by this form of perfect Carnivore that
Cuvier chiefly illustrated his principle of the correlation of animal
structures, it will be exemplified more particularly in this place,
and by the aid of the subjoined cut (fig. 106). The founder of
palaeontology thus enunciates the law which he believed to be so
operative in his labours of re-constructing extinct species : —
“ Every organized being forms a whole, a single circumscribed
system, the parts of which mutually correspond and concur to the
same definitive action by a reciprocal re-action. None of these parts
can change without the others also changing, and consequently
each part, taken separately, indicates and gives all the others.”2
Cuvier did not predicate that law by an d priori method, by any
of those supposed short cuts to knowledge, the fallacy of which
Bacon so well exposes ; he arrived at the law inductively, and after
many dissections had revealed to him the facts—of the jaw of the
Carnivore being strong by virtue of certain proportions; of its
having a peculiarly shaped and articulated condyle, with a
plate of bone of breadth and height adequate for the implantation
of muscles, with power to inflict a deadly bite—a process grasped
by muscles of such magnitude as necessitated a certain extent of
surface for their origin from the cranium, with concomitant strength
and curvature of the zygomatic arch; the facts of the modified
occiput and dorsal spines in relation to vigorous uplifting and
retraction of the head when the prey had been griped; the size
and shape of the piercing, lacerating, and trenchant teeth ; the me¬
chanism of the retractile claws, and of the joints of the limb that
wielded them :— it was not
until after Cuvier had re¬
cognised these facts, and
studied them and their
correlations in a certain
number of typical Carni¬
vora, that he felt justified
in asserting that “ the
form of the tooth gives
that of the condyle, of the
blade-bone (s), and of the
claws, just as the equation
of a curve evolves all its
properties; and exactly
as, in taking each pro¬
perty by itself as the base
of a particular equation,
one discovers both the or¬
dinary equation and all
its properties, so the claw,
the blade-bone, the con¬
dyle, the femur, and all
the other bones individu¬
ally, give the teeth, or are
given thereby reciprocal¬
ly; and in commencing by
any of these, whoever pos¬
sesses rationally the laws
of the organic economy
will be able to re-con¬
struct the entire animal.”
The principle is so evi¬
dent that the non-anato-
mical reader will have
little difficulty in satis¬
factorily comprehending
it by the aid of the sub¬
joined diagram.
In the jaws of the
lion (fig. 106), there are
large pointed teeth (la-
niaries or canines, c)
which pierce,lacerate, and
retain its prey. There
are also compressed tren¬
chant teeth (A), which play upon each other like scissor-blades in
Fig. 106.
Palaeontological characters of a
Feline Carnivore.
1 See Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, vol. iii., 1647, p. 55.
2 Ossemens Fossiles, 4to, tom. i. (1812), p. 58.
172
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia, movement of the lower upon the upper jaw. The lower jaw (m)
is short and strong; it articulates to the skull by a transversely
extended convexity or condyle (d), received into a corresponding
concavity (e), forming a close-fitting joint, which gives a firm at¬
tachment to the jaw, but almost restricts its movements to one
plane, as in opening and closing the mouth. The plate of bone,
called coronoid process (r), which gives the surface of attachment to
the chief biting muscle (crotaphyte or temporal) is broad and
high ; the surface on the side of the skull (temporal fossa, t) from
which that muscle arises is correspondingly large and deep, and is
augmented by the extension of ridges of bone from its upper and
hinder periphery.
The bar or bridge of bone (zygomatic arch) which spans
across the muscle, bends strongly outwards to augment the
space for its passage; and as it gives origin to another
powerful biting muscle (masseter), the arch is also bent up¬
wards to form the stronger point of resistance during the gripe
of that muscle. From almost all the periphery of the back
surface of the skull there is a strong pitted ridge, affording exten¬
sive attachment to powerful muscles which raise the head, together
with the animal’s body, which the lion may have seized with his
jaws; this beast of prey being able to drag along the carcase of a
buffalo, and with ease to raise and bear off the body of a man. If
we next examine the framework of the fore limb, which is associ¬
ated with the above-defined structure of the skull, we find that the
fore paw consists of five digits(i-s); the innermost and shortest (i)
answering to our thumb, and having two bones; the other four
digits having each three bones or “phalanges.” All those digits
enjoy a certain freedom of motion and power of reciprocal ap¬
proximation for grasping; but their chief feature is the modifi¬
cation of the terminal phalanx, which js enlarged, compressed,
subtriangular and more or less bent; with a plate of bone as it
were, reflected forwards from that base, from which the pointed
termination of the phalanx projects like a peg from a sheath. A
powerful, compressed, incurved, sharp-pointed, hard, horny claw is
fixed upon that peg, its base being firmly wedged into the inter¬
space between the peg and the sheath. The toe-joint so armed is
retractile. This complex, prehensile, and destructive paw is arti¬
culated to the two bones of the fore leg (radius, w,and ulna, u); they
are both strong, are both distinct, are firmly articulated to the
arm-bone (h) by a joint, which, although well built, allows great
extent and freedom of motion in bending and extension; and, be¬
sides this, the two bones are reciprocally joined so as to rotate on
each other, or rather the radius upon the ulna, carrying with it,
by the greater expansion of its lower end, the whole paw, which
can thus be turned “prone” or “ supine ;” whereby its application
as an instrument for seizing and tearing is greatly advantaged.
The humerus or arm-hone (h) is remarkable for the extension of
into which they are inserted, are of great extent. The ox masticates Mammalia,
grass with great efficiency ;
it inflicts no injury to other
animals with its teeth. The
horns are its weapons, and
they are chiefly defensive.
The fore foot of the ox is
reduced to two principal
toes, with two rudimentary
ones dangling behind. Each
of these has its extremity
enveloped by a thick horny
case, or hoof; this modifi¬
cation is accompanied by a
junction or coalescence of
the radius (w)and ulna (u),
preventing reciprocal rota¬
tion or movement of those
bones on each other,—by a
joint restricting the move¬
ment of the fore arm (anti-
brachium) upon the arm
(brachium or humerus, A)
to one plane,— by a long
and narrow blade-bone (»),
with a stunted coracoid and
no clavicle; in short, by
modifications adapting the
limb to perform the move¬
ments required for locomo¬
tion, and almost restricting
it to such. This type of
fore limb is always asso¬
ciated with broad grinding
teeth, and with the modifi¬
cations of jaw and skull
above defined. The due
amount of observation as¬
sured Cuvier that these se¬
veral modifications, like the
contrasted ones in the Car¬
nivora, were correlated, and
he enumerates the physio¬
logical grounds of that cor¬
relation.
Those grounds may be
traced to a certain degree in
the secondary modifications
Palaeontological characters of a
Ruminant (Bos).
strong ridges from the outer and inner sides, just above the elbow- of the ferine order. If the relractibility of the claw be suppressed;
ioint& These ridges indicate the size and force of the supinator, the carnassiality of the teeth is reciprocally modified. If the un¬
pronator flexor, and extensor muscles of the paw. To defend the guiculate foot is reduced from the digitigrade to the plantigrade
main artery of the fore leg from compression during the action of type, the dentition is still more altered, and made more subservient
these muscles, a bridge of bone (a) spans across it as it passes near to a mixed diet.
their ori<nn. The upper end of the arm-bone is equally well By the application of the correlative principle to the fossil mam-
markcd by powerful ridges for muscular implantation, especially malian remains of pliocene and later deposits, the Herbivora have
for1 the deltoid ; but these ridges do not project beyond the round been distinguished from the Carnivora ; and out of the latter have
“°head” of the bone, so as to impede its movements in the socket. been re-constructed extinct species of the feline, viverrine, ursine,
The blade-bone (scapula, s) is of great breadth, with well-deve- and other families of the order. In England and continental
loned processes (spine, acromion, and coracoid) for muscular attach- Europe a peculiarly destructive feline quadruped existed, with the
ments • the size and shape of this bone relate closely to the volume upper canines much elongated, trenchant, sharp-pointed, sabre-
f the muscles which operate upon the arm-bone and fore limb. A shaped ; whence the name Machairodus proposed for this feline
small clavicular bone (b) is interposed between a muscle of the
head and one of the arm, giving additional force and determination
of action reciprocally to both muscles.
Such are some of the modifications of the teeth and framework
of a beast of prey, which concur, and were deemed by Cuvier to be
correlated, in the organization of such animals.
Let us compare them with those of the corresponding parts in
an ox (fig. 107). The teeth answering to the great laniaries in the
lion are absent; at most, one recognises the homologues of the
lower canines, reduced in size and altered in shape, so as to form the
outer teeth (c) of a bent row of incisors terminating the lower jaw.
The back teeth (h), instead of being trenchant, have broad and flat
crowns, roughened with hard ridges, opposing each other with a
grinding action, like mill-stones. The lower jaw is long and slen¬
der ; it articulates to the skull by a flat condyle (d), admitting of
rotatory movements upon a flattened articular surface on the skull,
and limiting the extent of opening and shutting the mouth. The
coronoid process (r) is very slender, and the fossa which marks the
size of the temporal muscle (t) is correspondingly small. The
zygomatic arch (o) is short and feeble, and its span is narrow;
it is almost straight, or with a slight bend downwards. The part
of the skull (pterygoid plates), which afford attachment to the ro¬
tating muscles of the jaw, and the (angular) part (/) of the jaw
sub-genus. It was represented by species as large as a lion (M. cul-
tridens o,r\A. M. latidens) ; and by others of the size of a leopard (J/.
palmidens and M. megantereon). This form is first found in the
miocene of Auvergne and of Eppelsheim ; next in the pliocene of
the Val d’Arno; and finally in cave breccia in Devonshire.
The finest examples of the large pleistocene lion (Felis spelced)
have been discovered in bone-caves,—e.g., in those of Banwell, So¬
mersetshire, and of Belgium. The production of the apex of the
nasal process of the maxillary, as far back as that of the nasal bone,
proves this species to have been a lion, not a tiger. It roamed
over pliocene and pleistocene Europe, and has left its remains in
many stratified deposits of the former period in Britain. Under
similar circumstances have been found, more abundantly in Ger¬
many, the remains of the gigantic bear (Ursus spelceus), and more
abundantly in England those of the great hyaena (Hycena spelced),
probably a spotted one, like the fierce “ Crocuta” of the Cape.
Wolves, foxes, badgers, otters, wolverines, and martin-cats, fou¬
marts and weasels, have left their remains in the newer tertiary
deposits and bone-caves. Bats, moles and shrews were then, as now,
the forms that preyed upon the insect world in Europe. The ma¬
jority of these Carnivora, like the hares, rabbits, voles, and other
Rodents, are not distinguishable from the species which still exist.
These smaller unguiculate Mammals, like the smaller pleistocene
PALAEONTOLOGY.
173
Mammalia. Ruminants, seem to have survived those changes during which the
larger species perished. It is probable that the horse and ass are
descendants of a species of pleistocene antiquity. At the pliocene
period there existed a species similar in size to a zebra. There is
no certain character by which the present wild boar can be distin¬
guished specifically from the Sus, which was contemporary with
the mammoth.
Order KODENTIA.
The small size of the great majority of the species of this order
leads to the neglect or the oversight of their fossil remains by the
labourers in quarries and other deposits of stone, to whom the
palaeontologist is usually indebted for his first acquaintance with
characteristic fossils of such formations. No evidence has yet been
obtained of any unequivocal remains of a rodent animal in strata
more ancient than the eocene tertiary deposits. Cuvier detected
remains of Rodents allied to the dormouse (Afyoxus) and squirrel
(Sciurus) in the building-stone of the Montmartre quarries near
Paris. The lacustrine marls of the middle (miocene) tertiary pe¬
riod have yielded evidences of not fewer than eleven genera of
Rodentia distinct from any now known to exist. The deposits at
Eppelsheim, near Darmstadt, of the same miocene age have given
evidence of Rodents akin to the marmot and the beaver. The more
recent tertiary formations and the bone-caves in England have
furnished fossil remains not distinguishable from the existing
beaver, hare, and rabbit, water-vole and field-vole, as well as re¬
mains of a Pica, or tailless hare, belonging to the genus Lagomys,
now confined, as an existing species, to Asia; and of a very large
Rodent, akin to the beaver, called Trogontherium. Similar fossil
remains have been abundantly found in the pliocene and pleisto¬
cene formations of continental Europe ; whilst the coeval deposits
of America have yielded fossil remains of extinct species belonging
to genera,—e.;/., Lagostomus, Echimys, Ctenomys, Ccelogenys, and
other Cavies,—now restricted to South America. In North Ame¬
rica, fossil remains of a Rodent of comparatively gigantic size have
recently been discovered. Some parts of the skeleton, and more
especially the dentition of the rodent order, are highly charac¬
teristic,—the form of the articular surface for the lower jaw, which
is a longitudinal groove, the molars, especially of the phytiphagous
kinds, crossed by enamel plates more or less transverse,—these, with
the long, curved, chisel-shaped incisors, two in each jaw, suffice to
determine the ordinal relations of the fossil. The incisors alone would
not be always so safe a guide, for the rodent modification of these
teeth is repeated in the marsupial wombat and thelemurine aye-aye.1
With regard to the Rodentia, the great beaver [Trogontherium?)
seems to have become extinct in England and the Europseo-Asiatic
continent before the historical period, whilst the smaller pliocene
beaver continued to exist with us like the wolf, until hunted down
by man. . It still survives in a few of the great continental rivers.
Of the little Lagomys of our ossiferous caves no living example
remains in either England or Europe. The species, indeed, may
be extinct; its genus is now limited to Central and Southern Asia.
GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF PLEISTOCENE MAMMALS.
A most interesting generalization has been educed from the mass
of facts relating to the fossil Alammals of the later tertiaries,—viz,,
their close correspondence between the fauna of those and present
periods in the Europmo-Asiatic expanse of dry land. For here species
continue to exist of nearly all those genera which are represented by
pliocene and post-pliocene mammalian fossils of the same natural
continent and of the immediately adjacent island of Great Britain.
The bear has its haunts in both Europe and Asia; the beaver of
the Rhone and Danube represents the great Trogontherium; the
Lagomys and the tiger exist on both sides of the Himalayan moun¬
tain chain; the hyaena ranges through Syria and Hindostan; the
bactrian camel typifies the huge Merycotherium of the Siberian
drift; the elephant and rhinoceros are still represented in Asia
though now confined to the south of the Himalayas. The true
macacques are peculiar to Asia, and though most abundant in the
southern parts of the continent and the Indian Archipelago, also
exist in Japan; a closely-allied, sub-genus (Innus) is naturalized on
the rock of Gibraltar at the present day. A fossil species of Ma-
cacus was associated with the elephant and rhinoceros in England
during the period of the deposition of the newer pliocene fresh-
"n a “J?, The rnore extraordinary extinct forms of Mammalia,
called AZasmotAmim and Sivatherium, have their nearest existing
7 eraal and ruminant analogues in the same continent to
wnicn those fossils are peculiar. Cuvier places the Elasmothere
oetween the horse and rhinoceros: the existing four-horned ante¬
lopes, like their gigantic extinct analogues, the Sivathere and
Bramathere, are peculiar to India. It may be regarded as part of Mammalia,
the same general concordance of geographical distribution, that
the genus Hippopotamus, extinct in England, in Europe, and in
Asia, should continue to be represented in Africa, and in none of
the remoter continents of the earth,—Africa also having its hyaena,
its elephant, its rhinoceroses, and its great feline Carnivores. The
discovery of extinct species of Camelopardalis in both Europe and
Asia, of which genus the sole existing representative is now, like
the hippopotamus, confined to Africa, adds to the propriety of re¬
garding the three continuous continental divisions of the Old
World as forming, in respect to the geographical distribution of
pliocene, post-pliocene, and recent mammalian .genera, one great
natural province. The only large edentate animal [Pangolin gigan-
tesque, Cuvier; Macrotherium, Lartet) hitherto found in the tertiary
deposits of Europe, manifests its nearest affinities to the genus
Manis, which is exclusively Asiatic and African.
Extending the comparison between the existing and the latest of
the extinct series of Mammalia to the continent of South America,
it may be first remarked that, with the exception of some carnivo¬
rous and cervine species, no representatives of the ahove-cited
mammalian genera of the Old World of the geographer have yet
been found in South America. Buffon2 long since enunciated a
similar generalization with regard to the existing species and
genera of Mammalia; it is almost equally true in respect of the
fossil. Not a relic of an elephant, a rhinoceros, a hippopotamus, a
bison, a hyaena, or a lagomys, has yet been detected in the caves or
the more recent tertiary deposits of South America. On the con¬
trary, most of the fossil Mammalia from those formations are as
distinct from the Europaeo-Asiatic forms as they are closely allied
to the peculiarly South American existing genera of Mammalia.
The genera Equus, Tapirus, and the still more ubiquitous Mastodon,
form the chief, if not sole exceptions. The representation of Equus
during the pliocene period by distinct species in Asia [E. primige-
nius) and in South America [E. curvidens), is analogous to the geo¬
graphical distribution of the species of Tapirus at the present day.
South America alone is now inhabited by species of sloth, of
armadillo, of cavy, aguti, ctenomys, and platyrrhine monkey; but
no fossil remains of a quadruped referable to any of these genera
have yet been discovered in Europe, Asia, or Africa. The types of
Bradypus and Dasypus were, however, richly represented by diver¬
sified and gigantic specific forms in South America during the
geological periods immediately preceding the present. The skeleton
of one of these forms of the sloth tribe is represented in fig. 108;
Fig. 108.
Extinct Terrestrial Sloth, ilfi/7o(7on ro&wstas (Pleistocene, S. America).
it measures, from the fore part of the skull to the end of the tail,
II feet. It was discovered buried 12 feet deep in the fluviatile
deposits seven leagues north of the city of Buenos Ayres in the
year 1841. It forms the subject of a work entitled Description of the
Skeleton of an Extinct Gigantic Sloth [Mylodon robustus),3 in which are
set forth in detail the grounds for regarding it as a member of the
same natural family as the present small arboreal sloth, and as beino-
modified to obtain its leafy food by uprooting and prostrating trees.
A still larger species of terrestrial sloth co-existed with the
Mylodon in South America. Its skeleton, now complete in the
British Museum, measures 18 feet; its dentition agrees as to num¬
ber and kind of teeth with that of the sloths [Bradypus). But the
1 See art. Odontology, pp. 453-455.
2 Histcire Naturelle, tom. ix., p. 13, 4to, 1758.
3 4to, 1842, Van Voorst.
174
PALAEONTOLOGY.
Mammalia, molars (fig. 109) are longer, more deeply implanted, of more com-
^ i- v —i J plex structure, and with grinding surfaces of the bilophodont type.
The elephants, which subsist on similar food to that of the Mega¬
therium, had their grinding machinery maintained by a numerous
principal figure in cut 111 are shown the front and back margins Mammalia,
of the body-armour; below it, opposite the left hand, are upper ^
Fig. 109.
Section of Upper Molar Teeth, Megatherium (one-third nat. size),
Pleistocene, South America.
succession of teeth. The same end was attained in the Megathe¬
rium, by a constant growth and renovation of the same teeth. The
formative pulps were lodged in the deep basal cavities, exposed in
the section figured (fig. 109). The molar teeth were five in number
on each side of the upper jaw, and four
in number on each side of the lower
jaw (fig. 110). In this bone the fore
part is much prolonged, and grooved
above, to support a long, cylindrical,
powerfully muscular tongue, by which,
like the giraffe, the Megatherium strip¬
ped off the small branches of the trees
its colossal strength enabled it to pro¬
strate. The dentition of Mylodon dif¬
fered only from that of Megatherium in
the shape of the teeth. The same may
be said of the allied genera called Me-
galonyx and Scelidotherium. They were
contemporary and geographically asso¬
ciated genera of the same, now quite
extinct, family of great terrestrial
sloths.
In like manner, the small loricated
and banded quadrupeds of South Ame¬
rica called armadillos were represented
in pleistocene times in South America
by as well-defended species, rivalling
the Megatherioids in bulk. The spe¬
cimen of the almost entire skeleton and
bony armour (fig. Ill) is one
smaller species of these great extinct
non-bandedarmadillos; yet it measures v/
from the snout to the end of the tail, c rig. J
following the curve of the back, 9 feet; j aw an(j Teeth of
the tesselated trunk-armour being 5 Megatherium (Pleistocene,
feet in length and 7 feet across, fol- gou^ America),
lowing the curve at the middle of the
back. These large extinct species differ from the modern arma¬
dillos, in having no bands or joints in their coat of mail, for the
purpose of contracting to a ball. They also differ in the flute
form of the teeth (fig. 112); whence the generic name (Glyptodon)
assigned to them. The species are distinguished, like their puny
representatives (Dasypus), by peculiar patterns of the outer surface
of the constituent ossicles of the tesselated mail. In the species
figured (G. clavipes), a large raised central circular plate is sur¬
rounded by smaller portions. The species named G. reticulatus,
G. tuberculatus, G- ornatus, &c., have their names from other mo¬
difications of the sculptured surface of their armour. Above the
Fig. 111.
Extinct gigantic Armadillo.
and under views of the cranium, which was defended by a tesse¬
lated bony casque. The tail also had its independent osseous sheath,
supported by the vertebrae within, as shown
in the figure opposite the left hand.
Other evidences of extinct South Ame¬
rican Mammals, matched only by species
now peculiar to that continent, might be
adduced if space permitted.
Australia in like manner yields evi¬
dence of an analogous correspondence be¬
tween its last extinct and its present abo¬
riginal mammalian fauna, which is the
more interesting on account of the very
peculiar organization of most of the native
quadrupeds of that division of the globe.
That the Marsupialia form one great natu¬
ral group, is now generally admitted by
zoologists; the representatives in that
group of many of the orders of the more
extensive placental sub-class of the Mamma¬
lia of thelarger continents have also been re¬
cognised in the existing genera and species :
the dasyures, for example, play the parts
of the Carnivora, the bandicoots {Perame-
les) of the Insectivora, the phalangers of
the Quadrumana, the wombat of the Ro-
dentia, and the kangaroos, in a remoter
degree, that of the Ruminantia. The first
collection of mammalian fossils from the
ossiferous caves of Australia1 brought to
light the former existence on that continent
of larger species of the same peculiar mar¬
supial genera :—some, as the Thylacine,
and the dasyurine sub-genus represented
by the D. ursinus, are now extinct on the
Australian continent, but one species of
each still exists on the adjacent island of Teeth of great extinct
Tasmania; the rest were extinct wombats, Armadillo (Glyptodon
phalangers, potoroos, and kangaroos,—some clavipes), Pleistocene,
of the latter (Macropus Atlas, M. Titan) South America,
being of great stature. A single tooth,
in the same collection of fossils, gave the first indication of the
former existence of a type of the marsupial group, which repre¬
sented the Pachyderms of the larger continents, and which seems
now to have disappeared from the face of the Australian earth. Of
the great quadruped so indicated under the name Diprotodon in
1838, successive subsequent acquisitions have established the true
marsupial character and the near affinities of the genus to the
kangaroo (Macropus), but with an osculant relationship with the
herbivorous wombat. The entire skull of the Diprotodon Aus¬
tralis (fig. 113) has lately been acquired by the British Mu¬
seum, showing in situ the tooth (i) on which the genus was
founded. This skull measures 3 feet in length ; that of a man
Fig. 112.
Mitchell’s (Sir Thos.) Three Expeditions into the Interior of Australia, 8vo, 1838, vol. ii., p. 359.
i
Mammalia, is inserted in the cut to exemplify the huge dimensions of the pri-
meval kangaroo. Like the contemporary gigantic sloth in South
America, the Diprotodon of Australia, while retaining the dental
formula of its living homologue, shows great and remarkable
modifications of its limbs. The hind pair were much shortened
and strengthened, compared with those of the kangaroo ; the fore
pair were lengthened as well as strengthened ; yet, as in the case of
tions of the law, that u with extinct as with existing Mam- Mammalia,
malia, particular forms were assigned to particular provinces,
and that the same forms were restricted to the same pro¬
vinces at a former geological period as they are at the pre¬
sent day.’
tertiary one.
Fig. 113.
Skull, gigantic Pachydermoid Kangaroo [Diprotodon Australis') Pleistocene, Australia.
That period, however, was the more recent
In carrying back the retrospective com¬
parison of existing and extinct Mammals to
those of the eocene and oolitic strata, in rela¬
tion to their local distribution, we obtain in¬
dications of extensive changes in the relative
position of sea and land during those epochs,
in the degree of incongruity between the
generic forms of the Mammalia which then
existed in Europe and any that actually
exist on the great natural continent of which
Europe now forms part. It would seem,
indeed, that the further we penetrate into
time for the recovery of extinct Mammalia,
the further we must go into space to find
their existing analogues. To match the
eocene Palaeotheres and Lophiodons, we
must bring Tapirs from Sumatra or South
America, and we must travel to the anti¬
podes for Myrmecobians, the nearest living
analogue to the Amphitheres of our oolitic
the Megatherium, the ulna and radius were maintained free, and
so articulated as to give the fore paw the rotatory actions. These,
in Diprotodon, would be needed, as in the herbivorous kangaroo,’
by the economy of the marsupial pouch. The dental formula of
Diprotodon was t ^|, c -f-, jp mJA—28,1 and, as in Macropus
mayor, the first of the grinding series (p) was soon shed; but the
other four two-ridged teeth were longer retained, and the front
upper incisor (*, i) was very large and scalpriform, as in the wom¬
bat. . The zygomatic arch sent down a process for augmenting the
origin of the masseter muscle, as in the kangaroo. The foregoing
skull, with parts of the skeleton, of the Diprotodon Australis, were
discovered in a lacustrine deposit, probably pleistocene, inter¬
sected by creeks, in the plains of Darling Downs, Australia.
The same formation has yielded evidence of a somewhat smaller
extinct herbivorous genus [Nototherium), combining, with essential
affinities to Macropus, some of the characters of the Koala (Phas-
colarctus)s The writer has recently communicated descriptions and
figures of the entire skull of the Nototherium Mitchelli to the Geo¬
logical Society of London.3 The genus Phascolomys was at the same
period represented by a wombat (P.gigas)
of the magnitude of a tapir, one of the
grinding teeth of which is represented,
of the natural size, in fig. 114.
The pleistocene marsupial Carnivora
presented the usual relations of size and
power to the Herbivora, whose undue in¬
crease they had to check. Fig. 115 re¬
presents an almost entire skull, with ^ H4.
part of the lower jaw of an animal Grinding Surface of Mo-
rivalling the lion in size, the marsupia- lar of Phascolomys gigas
lity of which is demonstrated by the (nat. size), Pleistocene,
position of the lacrymal foramen (Z) in Australia,
front of the orbit; by the palatal vacuity (o), by the loose tympanic
bone, the development of the tympanic bulla in the alisphenoid,
by the very small relative size of the brain, and other characters
detailed m a Memoir lately communicated by the writer to the
Koyal Society of London. The carnassial tooth (p) is 2 inches 3
lines in longitudinal extent, or nearly double the size of that in the
Hon. The upper tubercular tooth (m, i) resembles in its smallness
an position that in the placental Felines. Butin the lower jaw
tne carnassial (p) is succeeded by two very small tubercular teeth (m,
i an 2), as in Plagiaulax (fig. 88) ; and there is a socket close to
tne symphysis of the lower jaw of Thylacoleo which indicates that
the canine may have terminated the dental series there, and have
afforded an additional feature of resemblance to the Plagiaulax.
The foregoing are some of the more interesting illustra-
On the problem of the extinction of species little can be
said ; and of the more mysterious subject of their coming
into being, nothing profitable or to the purpose at present.
As a cause of extinction in times anterior to man, it is most
reasonable to assign the chief weight to those gradual
Fig. 115.
Skull of a large extinct Marsupial Carnivore {Thylacoleo
carnifex), Pleistocene, Australia.
changes in the conditions affecting a due supply of sus¬
tenance to animals in a state of nature which must have
accompanied the slow alternations of land and sea brought
about in the aeons of geological time. Yet this reasoning
^ See that of Macropus, explained in art. Odontology, p. 449.
3 n^'ePor*; on Extinct Mammals of Australia,” Trans, of Brit. Assoc. 1844.
Quarterly Journal of the Geol. Soc., pt. iv., 1858. 4 Report on the Extinct Mammals of Australia, 184,
I
176 PAL
Palaestra is applicable only to land-animals ; for it is scarcely conceiv-
II able that such operations can have affected sea-fishes.
PMai0?’y* There are characters in land-animals rendering them more
v ,6 Z1|* > obnoxious to extirpating influences, which may explain why
so many of the larger species of particular groups have be¬
come extinct, whilst smaller species of equal antiquity have
survived. In proportion to its bulk is the difficulty of the
contest which, as a living organism, the individual of such
species has to maintain against the surrounding agencies
that are ever tending to dissolve the vital bond, and subju¬
gate the living matter to the ordinary chemical and physical
forces. Any changes, therefore, in such external agencies
as a species may have been originally adapted to exist in,
will militate against that existence in a degree proportionate
to the bulk of the species. If a dry season be gradually
prolonged, the large Mammal will suffer from the drought
sooner than the small one; if such alteration of climate
affect the quantity of vegetable food, the bulky Herbivore
will first feel the effects of stinted nourishment; if new
enemies be introduced, the large and conspicuous animal
will fall a prey, while the smaller kinds conceal them¬
selves and escape. Small quadrupeds are more prolific than
large ones. Those of the bulk of the Mastodons, Megatheria,
Glyptodons, and Diprotodons are uniparous. The actual
presence, therefore, of small species of animals in countries
where larger species of the same natural families formeily
existed, is not the consequence of degeneration,—of any
gradual diminution of the size of such species, but is the
result of circumstances which may be illustrated by the
fable of the “ oak and the reed; ” the smaller and feebler
animals have bent and accommodated themselves to changes
to which the larger species have succumbed.
That species should become extinct, appears, from the.
abundant evidence of the fact of extinction, to be a law of
their existence. Whether, however, it be inherent in their
own nature, or be relative and dependent on inevitable
changes in the conditions and theatre of their existence, is
the main subject for consideration. But admitting extinc¬
tion as a natural law, which has operated from the begin¬
ning of life, it might be expected that some evidence of it
should occur in our own time, or within the historical pe¬
riod. Reference has been made to several instances of the
extirpation of species, certainly, probably, or possibly, due
to the direct agency of man. But this cause avails not in
the question of the extinction of species at periods prior to
PAL
any evidence of human existence: it does not help us in Palafox-y-
the explanation of the majority of extinctions, as of the Melzi.
races of aquatic Invertebrata and Vertebrata which have
successively passed away. Within the last century, Aca¬
demicians of Petersburg and good Naturalists described and
gave figures of the bony and the perishable parts, including
the alimentary canal, of a large and peculiar fucivorous
Sirenian,—an amphibious animal like the Manatee, which
Cuvier1 classified with his herbivorous Cetacea, and called
Stelleria, after its discoverer. It inhabited the Siberian
shores and the mouths of the great rivers there disem¬
boguing. It is now believed to be extinct, and this ex¬
tinction has not been due to any special quest and persecu¬
tion by man. We may discern in this fact the operation
of changes in physical geography, which have at length so
affected the conditions of existence of the Stelleria as to
have caused its extinction. Such changes had operated,
at an earlier period, to the extinction of the Siberian ele¬
phant and rhinoceros: a future generation of zoologists
may have to record the final disappearance of the Arctic
buffalo (Ovibos moschatus). Remains of Ovibos and Stel¬
leria show that they were contemporaries of Elephas pri-
migenius and Rhinoceros tichorrhinus. The great auk (Alca
impennis, L.) existed in the last century: no specimen has
been obtained within the present. Scandinavian naturalists
believe it to be extinct. It has not been specially hunted
down, like the dodo and dinornis; but by degrees has be¬
come more and more scarce. Physical changes, slowly
operating, seem to have affected its sources of food and
other circumstances favourable to its well-being. The
numbers of its bones on the shores of Iceland, Greenland,
and Norway, attest the abundance of the bird in former
times. A consideration of such instances of modern ex¬
tinctions may best throw light, and suggest the truest no¬
tions, of the causes of ancient extinctions.
As to the successions, or coming to be, of new species,
one might speculate on the possibility of a variety of auk
being occasionally hatched with a somewhat longer winglet
and a dwarfed stature,—of such a variety better adapting
itself to the changed climatal conditions than the old type,
—of such an origin, for example, of Alca torda ;—but to
what purpose ? Past experience of the chance aims of hu¬
man fancy, unchecked and unguided by observed facts,
shows how widely they have ever glanced away from the
gold centre of truth. (k. o.)
PALAESTRA (TraWorpa, from TraXg, wrestling), signi¬
fies properly a wrestling-school, but seems to have been
used among the Greeks as sometimes synonymous with
gymnasium, generally as forming a part of the.gymnasium
^Herod. vi. 126, 128), and occasionally as distinct from it.
The Romans used the terms as synonymous. (Vitruv.
v. 11.) (See Gymnasium.)
PALAFOX-Y-MELZI, Don Josis, a valiant Spanish
patriot, was born of an old family in 1780, and was brought
up at court. He was still a young man, living in retirement
at his hereditary seat of 1 orre del Alfranca, when Napo¬
leon’s troops, in' 1808, were threatening the neighbouring
city of Saragossa. The citizens intrusted him with their
defence, by electing him to be captain-general of the king¬
dom of Aragon. He assumed this office under circumstances
very formidable and perplexing. His own experience in
military affairs was very small; the town was almost des¬
titute of soldiers, defences, and resources; and the adjacent
provinces of Navarre and Catalonia were invested by French
troops disciplined in many a campaign, and flushed with
many a victory. Yet the great natural tact and command¬
ing spirit of the young leader surmounted all these embar¬
rassments, and promptly organized a regular system of
resistance. Soldiers from all the surrounding districts were
summoned into town, every street was barricaded, every
house was made a point of defence, and the inhabitants
were formed into one united band, unanimous in their
determination either to protect the city or perish beneath
its ruins. Scarcely had Palatbx completed these prepara¬
tions, when a French force under Lefebvre-Desnouettes.
approached and began the siege. Then ensued a series of
the most determined attacks and repulses. Often did the
besiegers, with cool veteran courage, force their way into
the city : as often did the besieged, with wild and desperate
recoil, drive them back to their intrenchments. The be¬
siegers seconded their onsets with a demand for capitula¬
tion ; the besieged rallied their courage with the cry of
“ War to the very knife.” At length, after a bloody siege
of sixty-one days, the bravery of the citizens proved invin¬
cible ; and on the 14th August the French retired, baffled,
towards Pamplona. Palafox and his army had not long
enjoyed their hard-won renown, when fate interposed with
relentless hand to snatch from them the fruits of their
success. The French returned in greater force under
1 Regne Animal, tom. i., p. 284.
P A L
Palais, Le Marshals Moncey and Mortier, and applied their resistless
resources to the siege of the obstinate city. In vain did
Palatinate. men) women, and children, under a terrific bombardment,
^ and amid tumbling houses, oppose their bodies to the
assaulting foe. A wasting epidemic broke out, and reduced
the defenders to a mere handful. The leader himself, fall¬
ing ill, was obliged to resign the command, and his suc¬
cessor, St Marc, capitulated on the 21st February 1809.
The events in the after part of Palafox’s career are not
very important. After suffering imprisonment in the dun¬
geon of Vincennes, on account of his resistance to the
French, he was liberated on the restoration of Ferdinand
VII. in 1813. Although confirmed in the following year
in the office of captain-general of Aragon, he soon ceased
to take any part in politics. His death took place in 1847.
PALAIS, Le, a town of France, department of Mor-
bihan, stands on the N. side of the island of Belle Isle. It
is strongly fortified, and contains a citadel, which serves as
a state prison. The harbour is good and safe; and there
is a school of navigation. Some trade is carried on in fish.
Pop. 4972.
PALAMAS, Gregorius, an eminent Greek ecclesiastic,
was born about the beginning of the fourteenth century,
and was brought up at the court of Constantinople. After
imbibing for ten years the peculiar doctrines of the monks of
Mount Athos, he shut himself up in a solitary cell near Ber-
rhcea to practise these doctrines, and for the next ten years
starved his body and mystified his brain by sitting in a dark
corner, with his chin on his breast, and his eye fixed on his
navel, in expectation of seeing a celestial light settle on
that part of his frame. When Baarlam denounced these
exercises, and ridiculed their observers with the nickname
of Omphalopsychi (“ navel-souls”), the zealous fanatic came
forward as the champion of his sect. The controversy
was referred to the ecclesiastical court of Constantinople,
and Palamas retired from the post he had taken. At the
councils which were severally held in 1341 and 1351, he
pled the cause of his party, and so identified himself
with the tenets he advocated that his fellow-sectarians were
thenceforth called Palamites. The battle was now gained,
and he retired to the see of Thessalonica. The time of
his death is unknown. The published works of Palamas
are Prosopopoeia, or two judicial pleas of the body and soul
against each other, published, with a Latin version by
Combefis, in his Auctariurn Novissimum, folio, Paris, 1672 ;
and a refutation of the statements of John Veccus, printed in
the Opuscula Awraz of Petrus Arcudius, 4to, Rome, 1630.
PALAMOW, a district of British India, presidency of
Bengal, lying between N. Lat. 23. 12. and 24. 22., and E.
Long. 83. 18. and 84. 31.; and bounded on the N. by the
districts of Behar and Ramgurh, E. by that of Ramgurh,
S. by that of Chota Nagpore, S.W. by that of Sirgoqjah,
and W. by that of Mirzapoor. Length from S.E. to N. W.,
88 miles; breadth, 70 miles; area, 3468 square miles. The
country has never been thoroughly explored. The Koel
is the only river in Palamow that is perennial in its flow.
The hills and valleys of the district are densely covered
with forests and jungles, which are the haunts of many wild
animals. Most valuable sources of mineral wealth exist.
There are numerous scattered villages throughout the
country; and two places that may be called towns,—Pala¬
mow, near the centre; and Oontaree, on the northern bound¬
ary. Pop. (1855) of the districts of Palamow and Chota
Nagpore, 482,900.
PALA 1 IN ATE (Germ. Pfalz), an ancient division of
Germany, consisting of two parts, the Upper and the
Lower Palatinate. The former, having an area of 2756
square miles, lay to the N.E. of Bavaria, of which kingdom
it now forms the circles of Upper Palatinate and Upper
Franconia. 1 he Lower Palatinate, which had an area of
1590 squares miles, lay on both sides of the Rhine, between
VOL. XVII.
PAL 177
Worms and Carlsruhe. It is now divided among Rhenish Palawan
Prussia, Baden, and Bavaria. The portion included in the ||
last of these countries forms the modern circle of Palatinate. Paleml:)ang*
(See Bavaria.)
PALAWAN, or Paragua, an island of the Eastern
Archipelago, separating the Chinese from the Sooloo Sea.
It lies between N. Lat. 8. 27. and 11. 32., E. Long. 117.
18. and 119. 48., and extends from the Philippine Islands
on the N.W. to the vicinity of the northern extremity of
Borneo. Its length is about 275 miles, and its average
breadth 32 miles. The eastern part, for about 10 or 20
miles from the sea, is low and flat; but near the western
coast a chain of hills runs through the island. It is well
watered, and has a fertile soil, which for the greater part is
not cultivated. The natural products resemble those of
Borneo, including rice, honey, wax, bulrushes of a white
colour that are much valued, and many other articles.
Gold and pearls are obtained here. Among the animals are
leopards, porcupines, several kinds of squirrels, and many
birds of rare and beautiful plumage. It is inhabited by
people in a very savage state; the southern portion is pos¬
sessed by the Sultan of Sooloo, and the Spaniards have
long exercised dominion over the northern part, which be¬
longs to the province of Calamianes. The hilly regions
are held by the original natives, a people resembling the
Papuans. The principal town is Babuyan, which is forti¬
fied, and has about 2000 inhabitants.
PALAZZUOLO, or Palazzolo, a town of Sicily, pro¬
vince of Syracuse, stands on a bleak hill, 19 miles W. of
Syracuse. It occupies the site of the ancient Acrae, a colony
founded by Syracuse, B.c. 663. Many interesting antiquities
have been found here, especially remains of temples and
of two theatres, statues, and other relics. Pop. 8600.
PALEMBANG, a Dutch province in the island of Su¬
matra, comprehending the former kingdom of that name,
along w'ith the district of Jambi, extends along the east
coast of the island, and is bounded on the N.W. by the
Battah country, N.E. and E. by the Banka Strait, S. by
the province of Lampong, and W. by that of Bencoolen.
Near the sea is a low, flat, and marshy tract of ground ;
but towards the interior the country is hilly, and contains
several volcanoes, one of which, near the frontier of Ben¬
coolen, did much injury by an eruption in 1833. The
country is watered by several considerable rivers, such as
the Mcesi, Komering, Lamatang, and others; and the soil
is very fertile, producing pepper, bamboos, lacquer-wood,
&c. European vegetables grow well; and live stock thrive
better here than in Java. In the year 1811, the Dutch
had merely a commercial factory at Palembang, when the
sultan began hostilities against them ; and in order to their
entire destruction, under pretence of conveying them safely
to Batavia, sunk during the night the ships in which they
had embarked by means of holes previously made. But
the hopes which had been entertained of gaining by this
murderous deed the favour of the British, then in [posses¬
sion of Java, were disappointed, for an expedition sent by
them dethroned the sultan, and placed his younger brother
on the throne. The Dutch having, in 1816, regained their
East Indian possessions, the sultan complained of his
deposition ; and having satisfied the government of Batavia
of his innocence of the crime imputed to him, was re-in-
stated in 1818. But soon he began fr^sh assaults on the
Dutch ; and suddenly one morning their factory was can¬
nonaded by the guns of his fort. They made an unsuc¬
cessful expedition against Palembang ; and the country re¬
mained in rebellion till 1821, when it was conquered by
them. The sultan still retains his title, but the supreme
power is exercised by a Dutch regent, who resides at Palem¬
bang, the capital. The internal administration, however, is in
the hands of the native chiefs. This town stands on both sides
of the Mcesi, about 50 miles above its mouth. It is built
178
PAL
PAL
Palencia.
chiefly of wood and bamboos, but the sultan’s palace and
the principal mosque are stone edifices. The river is here
deep and navigable ; and an active trade is carried on. Pop.
about 25,000. The province of Palembang is but thinly
peopled.
PALENCIA, a province in the interior of Spain, one
of the eight into which Old Castile is divided. It has an
area of 258 square leagues, and the following boundaries:—
N., Santander; E., Burgos; S., Valladolid; W., Leon and
Toro. The partidos into which it is divided are Astudillo, Bal-
tanas, Carrion, Cerverade RioPisuerga, Frechillas, Palencia,
and Saldana. The surface is in general level, and almost
devoid of trees; the northern part of the province, com¬
prising the whole of the partido of Cervera, is mountainous.
The climate is generally cold, especially in the north, but
healthy, and would be much more so but for the almost
entire want of trees. The numerous streams which tra¬
verse the province contribute to its remarkable fertility:
the principal are the Pisuerga and the Carrion, which cross
the province from N. to S., uniting near Duenas, and passing
into the province of Valladolid ; the Camera, the Cieza, the
Arlanza, the Abanades, &c. The canal of Castile crosses
the province also from N. to S., with a branch through
Tierra de Campos, and by facilitating the exportation of
its grain, has done good service to the agriculture of the
province. The whole partido of Cervera abounds in mine¬
rals, but the coal is the only mineral that is worked. 1 here
are mines at San Felices de Castilleria, 2 leagues N. of
Cervera, and at Orbo, 3 leagues from Cervera, both fur¬
nishing coal of good quality, and plentiful; and several others
in Villaverde de la Pena. In all the partidos, with the ex¬
ception of Cervera, wheat and other cereals, legumes, hemp,
and flax are produced in abundance; in Cervera the land
is occupied with pastures and with wood. In the numerous
gardens by the water-courses are grown all kinds of fruit,
with the exception of the olive; but linseed oil is plenti¬
fully produced. Game is abundant in Cervera; and the
Pisuerga and Carrion are good fishing streams. The prin¬
cipal industry is the manufacture of flour, and the principal
commerce its exportation to Cataluha and the Havannah.
The woollen manufactures of blankets, serges, and baize are
tolerably extensive. There is a fair provision of element¬
ary instruction in the province, which contains about 600
schools of this class; for secondary instruction there is only
one, in the capital. Pop. 148,491.
Palencia, capital of the above province, is situated in a
plain on the left bank of the Carrion, 2 leagues above its
confluence with the Pisuerga. The environs of the town
on the W. are delightful, presenting to the view gardens,
trees on the banks of the Carrion, and numerous fountains.
The climate is somewhat cold, but salubrious: most equal
in autumn. The city is protected on the W. by the river,
and on the other sides by a wall, dating from the re-con¬
quest, of 36 feet in general height, and 9 in thickness, solidly
built with stone, with some additional constructions in the
recent war, and affording entrance by seven gates. 1 he city
is divided into two parts, the ciudad and the puebla: in the
latter, occupied chiefly by the working classes, the streets
are straight and commodious, the houses of a single storey ;
in the former the streets are narrow, the houses of two
storeys, with courts and sometimes gardens. The principal
buildings are,—the cathedral, of Gothic style, begun in the
fourteenth century, and finished in the seventeenth; the
episcopal palace, an unfinished building, with fine gardens;
the palace of Don Sancho, King of Navarre, in the centre
of the city; and the hospital, an immense building of stone.
There are, besides, four churches and ten convents, not re¬
markable for their architecture. The school of secondary
instruction has 11 professors ; the seminario conciliar, in the
ex-convent of the Jesuits, has 8. There are, besides, nine
schools of primary instruction. The chief industry of the
town consists in the fabrication of woollens, for which it is Palermo,
celebrated. Its mantas, serge, and baize supply Spain, Por-
tugal, and America, and their manufacture occupies a third
part of the population, besides that employed in the bleach¬
ing and dyeing works connected with it. Next to this in
importance is the manufacture of flour. There are also
manufactures of chocolate, brandy, &c., and of common
earthenware. Palencia, under the name of Pallantia, was
a wealthy and considerable city in the time of the Romans,
and makes a considerable figure in Spanish history. Pop.
10,490.
PALERMO (anciently Panormus, Fr. Palerme), the
second city of the kingdom of Naples, and the capital and
chief seaport of Sicily, stands on the south-western shore
of a large bay on the north side of the island, in a rich plain
surrounded on three sides by hills, which, from its form and
beauty, has received the name of Conca d’Oro, or “ Golden
Shell;” N. Lat. 38. 8., E. Long. 13. 22. The many cu¬
polas, turrets, and spires that rise to the view of one look¬
ing at it from the sea, gives to Palermo a noble and strik¬
ing aspect. In form it is nearly rectangular, its shortest
side extending along the shore ; and it is surrounded by old
walls, which are entered by numerous gates. 1 he other
defences of the place consist of a citadel, bastions, and bat¬
teries, which render the town strong against an attack from
the sea, though it is not well protected on the land side.
The buildings of Palermo are distinguished by consider¬
able regularity, and those that line the principal streets are
very handsome. The principal streets, two in number,
cross at right angles near the centre of the town, thus
dividing it into four nearly equal parts. They are well
paved with lava, and form at their intersection a public
place of an octagonal form, four sides of which are occupied
by these streets, and each of the others by a handsome
three-storeyed building of Grecian architecture. Many sta¬
tues stand and fountains play in this place, from which a
fine view may be obtained of the four avenues of houses
terminating in the gates of the town. 4 he inferior streets
are equally well paved with the principal ones, but they
are frequently in a very dirty and disagreeable state. Pa¬
lermo contains several other public places, some of them of
considerable size. But the most frequented places of resort
for amusement are the Marina and the Flora; the former
of which is a public walk, about 80 yards broad, stretching
for more than a mile along the sea-shore ; and the latter a
beautifully laid out and ornamented garden near the eastern
corner of the town. Many of the private houses are re¬
markable for the splendour of their architecture, but they
very frequently err in a want of simplicity, and in a profusion
of ornament. They are generally lofty, and, like those of
Naples, have flat, terraced roofs and projecting balconies.
The most of them are divided into flats, each forming a
distinct dwelling. Strange and lively is the scene that the
streets of Palermo present to a stranger. Close to the
most splendid palaces wretched booths often project into
the street; workmen of all kinds pursue their trades on the
pavement in front of their shops; while the sides of the
streets are also occupied by crowds of beggars, and idlers
of higher rank sit in front of the coffee-houses; so that all
the passengers on foot, as well as in carriages or on horse¬
back, have to proceed indiscriminately along the centre
of the streets. The public buildings are numerous, and
many of them sumptuous,—more so, indeed, generally,
than is consistent with good taste. The cathedral,
wdiich was built in 1180, is a fine edifice in the Gothic
style; but in recent times a dome has been added, and the
interior has been re-modelled after the Grecian style. It
contains many tombs in red porphyry, among which are
those of King Roger the Norman, and the Emperor Fre¬
derick II. The church of St Joseph is remarkable for its
crypt and gray marble columns. There are, besides those
PAL
Palermo, already mentioned, many other churches, all rich in paint-
ings, sculptures, and mosaics, and all very similar in their
general appearance and style. Palermo has also seven ab¬
beys and about seventy convents. The palace in which
the viceroy resides occupies a beautiful situation in the
midst of gardens at the S.W. end of the town. It is an
ancient irregular building, in various styles of architecture,
and contains a hall, many other fine buildings, a picture
gallery, a beautiful chapel built by Roger the Norman in
1129, and an observatory, from which, on the 1st of January
1801, the planet Ceres, the first known of the asteroids, was
discovered by Piazzi. In front of the palace is a public
square, containing, among other statues, one in bronze of
Philip IV. of Spain. The university of Palermo was
founded in 1447, or, according to other accounts, as early
as 1394 ; but it is now in a declining state. It has a library
of 40,000 volumes, and a valuable collection of antiquities.
The interests of education are provided for at Palermo by
several other institutions for different branches of instruc¬
tion. The account of the public buildings of Palermo
would not be complete without taking notice of the arch¬
bishop’s palace, court-house, custom-house, mint, monte di
pietd, prison, barracks, arsenal, and several theatres. It is
the seat of an archbishop, and of the lieutenant-general of
Sicily. The public charities consist of several hospitals, a
poor-house, a foundling institution, lunatic asylum, and
other establishments. In the neighbourhood of the town
are many fine country houses of the Sicilian nobility, and,
among the rest, a royal residence in the Chinese style.
There are also two fine specimens of Moorish architecture,—
the grotto of St Rosalia on the Monte Pellegrino, which is
a great object of veneration to the Sicilians; and a Capuchin
convent, with curious catacombs. As a manufacturing
town, Palermo is not very important. The chief branch
carried on is the making of silken stuffs, which was begun
here in the eleventh century ; cotton, oil-cloth, gold and
silver articles, hardware, &c., are also produced; and the
tunny fisheries on the coast give employment to 3000 or
4000 of the inhabitants, and yield ample returns. The
situation of the town, and its excellent harbour and anchor¬
age, afford great facilities for foreign commerce ; but the
intercourse with the interior of Sicily is greatly hindered
by the want of sufficient means of conveyance in the island.
The harbour, which lies outside of the walls, is formed by
a mole, constructed at a cost of L. 1,000,000, extending
southwards for a quarter of a mile into the sea. The prin¬
cipal articles exported from Palermo are shumac, oranges
and other fruits, oil, wines, spirits, manna, brimstone, liquo¬
rice, raisins, and grain; and there are imported silken,
cotton, and woollen stuffs ; hides, timber, tobacco, sugar,
hardware, &c. The total value of the exports in 1852 was
L.698,744, of which L.294,989 were to the United King¬
dom and its colonies, and L.448,7o5 to other countries.
The whole imports in the same year amounted in value to
L.606,083, of which L.253,089 were from the British em¬
pire, and L.352,994 from other countries. Communica¬
tion is kept up between Palermo and Naples, both directly
by sea and through Messina and Reggio ; but the means of
conveyance are barely sufficient for the necessities of com¬
merce. Since 1850 the port has been frequently visited
by British steamers engaged in commerce. In 1854 the
number of these that entered was 27, and their average
tonnage 543. Some traces of an ancient amphitheatre have
been found near the palace, and many fragments of marble
and other remains have been obtained; but these are all
that have come down to us of the ancient Panormus. Al¬
though this name, by which it was generally known in
ancient times (being derived from the excellence of the
harbour), was of Greek origin, there is no doubt that it
was not by that nation, but by the Phoenicians, that the
town was founded. It was at one time among their prin-
PAL 173
cipal places in Sicily ; but at the earliest historical period palprmo
at which Panormus is brought into notice, it was no * 7™°
longer subject to its mother country. This was in 480 Pales.
b.c., when the Carthaginians under Hamilcar made it their 'w
head-quarters against Himera. How it came into their
hands we have no means of knowing; but it continued for
a long time to be their principal naval station in Sicily, and
the capital of their possessions in that island. It was taken
by Pyrrhus in 276 b.c., but was soon after recovered by Car¬
thage. During the first Punic war, in 254 b.c., Panormus
was taken by that people, and four years after, a decisive
victory was gained by them under the walls. Before the
close ot this war the Monte Pellegrino, then called Ercta,
was occupied by Hamilcar Barca; and such was the strength
ot the position, that for three years he held out against the
utmost efforts of the Romans. After the conquest of Sicily
by that people, Panormus enjoyed the privileges of a free
town, and became the chief place of commerce and navi¬
gation in the island. It afterwards lost its freedom, and
received a Roman colony; but throughout the time of the
empire it continued in a flourishing condition, though it
neverreachedthatimportance which it now possesses. When
Sicily was conquered by the Goths, Palermo, along with
the rest of the island, fell into their hands ; but it was re¬
covered by Belisarius, and the Byzantine Empire retained
possession of it till 855 a.d., when it was taken by the
Saracens, and made the capital of their Sicilian possessions.
Since that period Palermo has been, with few intervals, the
capital of Sicily, and has followed the fortunes of that island.
It has suffered at various times from earthquakes ; and
during the Sicilian insurrection in 1848 it was bombarded
by the royal troops, and partially destroyed. Pop. (IbSG'l
200,000. r j \ ,
Palermo, the province of which the above town is the
capital, is bounded on the N. by the Mediterranean, E. by
the provinces of Messina and Catania, S. by that of Tra¬
pani, and W. by those of Girgenti and Caltanisetta;
length from N.W. to S.E., 66 miles ; breadth, 48 miles ;
area, 1985 square miles. The coast is irregular; and the
surface consists of barren hills and rich valleys, having a
general slope towards the north. Numerous small streams
flow through the province into the Mediterranean. The
country produces corn, oil, fruits, almonds, manna, shumac,
liquorice, silk, &c. It is the largest and the best peopled of
the Sicilian provinces. Pop. (1856) 541,326.
PALES, a Roman divinity of flocks and shepherds,
represented by some writers as a female, and by others as
a male, but embodying the same idea as Pan among the
Greeks. A festival, termed Palilia, and sometimes Pari-
lia, as if a pariendo, was celebrated annually at Rome, in
honour of this tutelary deity, on the 21st of April, the an¬
niversary, according to early tradition, of the foundation of
Rome by Romulus. (Varro, De Ling. Lat., vi. 15; Cicero,
De Div. ii. 27.) From the Fasti of Ovid (iv. 731, &c.),
we learn that the solemnities of this festival began by a
public purification by fire and smoke. Towards the even¬
ing, when the shepherds had fed their flocks, the stables
were adorned with laurel boughs, and the smoke of burnt
sulphur, rosemary, fir-wood, and incense, was made to pass
through the stalls to purify them. The flocks themselves
were also purified by this smoke, and were made to pass
through bonfires made of heaps of hay and straw. After
the offerings were over, which consisted of cakes, millet,
milk, &c., the shepherds engaged in prayer to Pales, and
thus terminated the solemn part of the proceedings. This
was followed up by the most festive joviality, the shepherds
bounding over the jlamma Palilis, or bonfire, with great
spirit, to the sound of cymbals and flutes. They next
ranged themselves on benches of turf, ate plentifully, and
drank without stint, till the Palilian constellation (Hyades)
had vanished in the evening twilight.
O o
180
PALESTINE.
Palestine. The land of God’s chosen people, and the scene of the
' earthly labours and sufferings of our Lord, has commanded,
and ever must command, a greater share of attention than
any other. No ancient country has been so much visited
by travellers in all ages and from all parts of Christendom,
and of none have so many books been written. Greece,
Rome, and the other seats of early civilization, each pre¬
sent to us features of interest; but those of Palestine are
greater, and of a kind peculiarly its own. Its physical
features and productions, the history and manners of its
people, their language with its idioms and proverbs, are
all more or less interwoven with the expressions of our
religion, and have been familiar to us from our earliest
years.
The Holy Scriptures were primarily committed to a
people living at a particular time, surrounded by certain
scenes, and familiar with certain objects, to which frequent
allusions are made which are apt to be unintelligible or
misunderstood by those who are ignorant of the time and cir¬
cumstances. Aknowledgeof the country and people of Pales¬
tine farther gives a peculiar beauty and force to numerous
passages in the sacred writings, and will hence ever com¬
mend itself to the careful study of the intelligent Christian.
Changes may no doubt have taken place in the climate,
productions, and general aspect of the country since the
times of the Old and New Testaments, but still the great
characteristics remain. These are witnesses to the events
that have occurred in their presence. “ They can be cross-
examined with the great facts and narratives. If they can¬
not tell the whole truth, at any rate, so far as they have
any voice at all, they tell nothing but the truth.” (Stanley’s
Sinai and Palestine.)
From another point of view, it is important to notice how
admirably adapted, above every other, was this country for
the abode of that people to whose keeping were committed
the principles of a religion destined to be universal. It was
more varied in its characteristics than probably any other
district on the face of the earth, containing within its range
more or less of the natural features of almost every other.
Had it been less varied or more eastern in its character, it
is not unreasonable to suppose that the sacred writings
would have contained less with which the European mind
could sympathize. It was farther eminently fitted for pre¬
serving that religion in its purity. It presented no grand
natural features which in other countries elicited from the
human heart divine honours;1 * * * * its coasts were singularly
deficient in harbours to tempt to commerce and commer¬
cial alliances ; huge natural barriers were interposed be¬
tween it and the two great centres of civilization in the
eastern world, Egypt and Babylon, the corrupters of all
the nations of the earth ; the wild grandeur of Sinai was,
like the body of Moses, hid from the people lest they might
worship it; and the lofty Lebanon, though visible in the
distance, formed no part of their allotted territory. T he
inhabitants, too, partook of the exclusive nature of their
country, and kept aloof from every other nation or people
whom they looked upon as barbarians. They were not suf¬
fered to remain in Egypt nor in Babylon ; and, to our mind,
there is no stronger evidence that their mission is not yet
fulfilled than is to be found in the fact that, though 1800
years have elapsed since they w7ere driven out of their own
country, and ceased to have any fixed abiding-place, they Palestine,
are yet as a people as distinct as when dwelling in their
own land. They, too, were as varied in their charac¬
ter and circumstances as was the country in its physical
aspects. They belonged to every rank and condition of life ;
and hence the Scriptures, though coming to men in a par¬
ticular time and in particular circumstances, are yet pre¬
eminently adapted for men in all time and in all circum¬
stances.
Notwithstanding the great number of travellers that
have visited Palestine, to no one more than to Dr Robin¬
son are we indebted for what is now known of the
geography of that country. With the publication of his
Biblical Researches in 1841 a new era may be said
to have commenced in biblical geography. Up to his
time travellers in Palestine were guided almost entirely
by the traditions of the monasteries—traditions origin¬
ally established, for the most part, by persons igno¬
rant of the topography of the country and of the lan¬
guage of the people, long after the events for which they
were celebrated took place. All these Dr Robinson, in
the outset, resolved to set at defiance ; and accordingly he
proceeded on the principle that “ all ecclesiastical tradition
respecting ancient places in and around Jerusalem, and
throughout Palestine, is of no value except so far as it is
supported by circumstances known to us from the Scrip¬
tures, or from other contemporary testimony.” The tradi¬
tions and the evidence from names and associations surviv¬
ing among the native Arabs he held to be much more
reliable; and unquestionably the common Arabic popula¬
tion, aside from the ordinary routes of travel, untainted
with ecclesiastical traditions and superstitions, unbiassed by
any motive to err or to deceive, are a better authority for the
names of places in Palestine than are the monks of Naza¬
reth or Bethlehem. His companion, Dr Eli Smith, was
admirably qualified for carrying out this branch of investi¬
gation, having by long residence acquired a thorough
knowledge of the Arabic people and a complete mastery of
their language. Dr Robinson, too, had prepared himself
for his researches by a course of study extending over a
period of nearly twenty years. The two great principles
by which they were guided in their investigations were,
first, “ to avoid, as far as possible, all contact with the
convents and the authority of the monks; to examine
everywhere for ourselves, with the Scriptures in our hands,
and to apply for information solely to the Arab population ;”
and secondly, “ to leave as much as possible the beaten
track, and direct our journeys and researches to those por¬
tions of the country which had been least visited.” After
an interval of fourteen years, Dr Robinson again visited
Palestine, and again his companion during the more im¬
portant part of his journey was Dr Smith. The results
of this second visit were published in his Later Re¬
searches, which appeared in 1856. In his two jour¬
neys, Dr Robinson has identified, or been the first
Frank traveller to visit, about 150 ancient places ; and
though in some cases his positions have been contested, his
works are universally acknowledged to be the most valu¬
able and reliable that have yet appeared. We trust that
he may still be spared to complete the work for which his
long course of study and laborious investigations have so
1 “ Whilst the great seats of Greek and Roman religion at Delphi and Lebadea, by the lakes of Alba and of Aricia, strike even the
indifferent traveller as deeply impressive, Shiloh and Bethel, on the other hand, so long the sanctuaries and oracles of God, almost escape
the notice even of the zealous antiquarian, in the maze of undistinguished hills which encompass them. The first view of Olivet im¬
presses us chiefly by its bare matter-of-fact appearance ; the first approach to the hills of Judea reminds the English traveller not of the
most but of the least striking portions of the mountains of his own country.” (Stanley.)
Palestine.
Name.
Extent.
PALESTINE.
181
eminently qualified him. To quote his own words in the
preface to his later work, “ The great object of all these
travels and labours has been, as formerly announced, to
collect materials for the preparation of a systematic work on
the physical and historical geography of the Holy Land.”
Of a different and more popular character is Mr Stan¬
ley’s Sinai and Palestine, 1856,—a work which will perhaps
be more appreciated by the general public. Mr Stanley
visited Palestine, not so much with a view to discovery, or
for minute investigation, as to connect and illustrate the
historical events of the Old and New Testaments with the
existing topography of the country. It is in thus grouping
together the physical features and the historical incidents
of the region, that the main feature of Mr Stanley’s work
consists. He clothes with the reality of place the events of
sacred history, and gives to the records of the past the
actual life of the present. His descriptions of physical
scenery are graphic and impressive, and his collocation of
historical events is frequently striking—always apt and beau¬
tiful. Professor Carl Ritter has, with his usual ability, sys¬
tematized and digested the voluminous records of centuries
in his volumes on Palestine in his Erdkunde. Our limits
prohibit us from noticing more of the numerous writers on
Palestine ; and this is the less necessary, as ample lists of
them are to be found in the works of Robinson, Kitto,
Ritter, and others.
The name Palestine, by which this country is now com¬
monly known, occurs nowhere in the Hebrew Scriptures.
The word from which it is derived, and which is sometimes
translated Palestina in our English version, is Philistia
(Heb. ; Gr. TrdkauTTLvr]), the name proper of the
country of the Philistines, which comprised the southern
portion of the coast plain of Canaan. This being the part
of the country with which the Greeks were first and chiefly
acquainted, they came to apply the name generally to the
whole country ; and Herodotus, who travelled there, terms
the Hebrews, Syrians of Palestine. We find Josephus, too,
occasionally using the word Palestine (TraA-aio-rtV^) for the
whole country, though he more frequently uses it in its
more restricted sense, as applied to that part which was in¬
habited by the Philistines. The name by which this
country is first designated in Scripture is the Land of Ca¬
naan, from its earliest inhabitants being descendants of
Canaan, the fourth son of Ham. This, however, only
comprised the territory lying between the Jordan and the
Mediterranean, the region to the east of that river being
called the Land of Gilead. Referring to the period before
it actually came into the possession of the children of
Israel, it is called the I^and of Promise—i.e., the land
which God had promised to Abraham to bestow upon his
seed. The Land of Jehovah and the Holt/ Land are
terms used as indicating God to be the sovereign proprietor
of the soil, though in the present day the latter term is
probably used more in regard to its having been the scene
of the life and sufferings of Christ. The Land of Israel
frequently occurs, first in reference to the whole country,
but afterwards only to the territory of the ten tribes,
which formed the separate kingdom of Israel as distinct
from that of Judah. Judea and the Land of Judah, though
originally applied to the territory of the tribe of Judah alone,
and afterwards to the kingdom of Judah, came, after the
captivity, to be sometimes applied in a loose way to the
whole country.
One is at first naturally struck with the small extent of
territory occupied by the children of Israel. The limits
varied much at different times ; but even in its more ex¬
tended acceptation Palestine was not more than one-half
the extent of Scotland, or one-fourth that of England and
Males. Its length from north to south was only about 180
miles, and its average breadth 65 ; its extreme breadth being
only about 100 miles. This includes a considerable portion Palestine,
of territory beyond the Jordan, not comprised in Palestine 's'—V"-''
proper or the Land of Canaan. The land beyond Jordan
was not, it would seem, originally designed to form part of
the land of Israel, which was to have been bounded by
the River Jordan and its inland lakes. This is the land
which, at their request, was given to the tribes of Reuben
and Gad and the half tribe of Manasseh ; and it is somewhat
remarkable that these never emerged from their original
nomadic state of life.
Palestine is situated about midway between the equator situation
and the polar circle, between 30. 40. and 33. 32. N. Lat., and bouu
and 33. 45. and 35. 48. E. Long. It is bounded on thedarie8-
W. by the Mediterranean, E. by the Great Desert (now
called the Hauran), S. by the desert which separates it from
Egypt, and N. by the Lebanon Mountains. The bound¬
aries are minutely laid down by Moses, in Numbers xxxiv.
3-12 ; but our present knowledge of the country is not
sufficient to enable us to identify with certainty the limits
there specified. The line of coast from north to south
trends westwards, which causes the country between the
coast and the valley of the Jordan to be much wider in the
south than in the north. But where the country was nar¬
rowest there were possessions on the east of the river, and
where widest there were none ; and hence the actual breadth
of territory was in some measure equalized throughout.
Palestine is extremely varied in its physical characteris- Physical
tics,—“a land of hills and valleys.” It is described in character.
Deuteronomy (viii. 7-9) as “a land of brooks of water,
of fountains, and depths, that spring out of valleys and hills ;
a land of wheat, and barley, and vines, and fig-trees, and
pomegranates; a land of oil-olive and honey; a land
wherein thou shalt eat bread without scarceness ; thou shalt
not lack anything in it; a land whose stones are iron, and
out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass.” The surface is
generally mountainous, or, more properly, it is one moun¬
tain mass rising from a level sea-coast on the VV. and from
a level desert on the E. In the N. the roots of Lebanon
form the high lands of Galilee, and are succeeded south¬
ward by the great plain of Esdraelon, stretching from the
shores of the Mediterranean to the valley of the Jordan.
Farther S. are the hills of Central Palestine, rising gra¬
dually into the mountains of Judah and Benjamin. The
valley of the Jordan extends from N. to S. through the
entire territory, and separates Palestine proper from the
mountainous districts of Bashan, Gilead, and Moab.
The level country of the coast, lying between the sea and Coast
the high land of the interior, varies very considerably in plains,
breadth, in some parts expanding into wide plains, in others
contracted into narrow passes ; while occasionally the moun¬
tain offshoots stretch out into the sea, and form promon¬
tories along the coast. The most southern portion of this phiii8tia.
coa-;t country was the great plain occupied by the ancient
Philistines, and termed in the Old Testament the Plain or
Low Country. It extended from Joppa to Gaza, having
on the W. the sea, and on the E. the hill country of
Ephraim and Judah. The Philistines were not an indi¬
genous race, though settled in Palestine as early as the time
of the patriarchs, but were, as the name implies, “strangers,”
the general opinion being, that they were immigrants from
the island of Crete. They became a great commercial
people, and were a frequent source of annoyance to the
children of Israel long after they had established them¬
selves in Canaan. The fertility of their land must have
contributed greatly to their power—rich corn-fields stretch¬
ing without interruption from the low sandy tract on the
shore to the base of the hills of Judah. “ Two parallel
tracts,” says Stanley, “divide the flat plain; the sandy
tract (Ramleh), on which stand the maritime cities, and
the cultivated tract, which presents for the most part an un¬
broken mass of corn, out of which rise here and there slight
182
>
PALESTINE.
Palestine, eminences in the midst of gardens and orchards, the seats
of the more inland cities. Gath has entirely disappeared ;
but Ekron, Ashdod, Gaza, and Ascalon retain their names,
and the three last have sites sufficiently commanding to jus¬
tify their ancient fame.” “ The most striking and character¬
istic feature of Philistia is its immense plain of corn-fields,
stretching from the edge of the sandy tract right up to the
very wall of the hills of Judah, which look down its whole
length from N. to S. These rich fields must have been^
the great source at once of the power and the value of
Philistia, the cause of its frequent aggressions on Israel,
and of the increasing efforts of Israel to master the terri¬
tory.” The towns here are remarkable for the beauty of
their situations and the profusion of gardens that surround
them. They rise above the plain on their respective hills,
Ascalon and Jaffa on the sea-coast, and Gaza, Ashdod,
and Ekron, at some distance from it.
ribaron. “ The corn-fields of Philistia, as we advance farther N.,
melt into a plain less level and less fertile, though still strongly
marked off from the mountain wall of Ephraim as that of
Philistia was from that of Judah and Dan.” (Stanley.)
This is “ Sharon ;” and, like Philistia, it is divided into the
ramkh or sandy tract along the sea-shore, and the culti¬
vated tract farther inland, here called khassab (“ the reedy”),
apparently from the high reeds which grow along the banks
of some of the streams. It is interspersed with corn-fields,
and thinly studded with trees, the remnants apparently of
a great forest which existed here down to the second cen¬
tury. Sharon, however, is chiefly noted for its rich pasture
lands, and is, says Mr Monro, “ clothed with fresh verdure
as far as the eye can reach.” The “ rose of Sharon” he
thinks to be the Cistus roseus of Linnaeus, which is very
abundant here. No historical name or event is attached to
this district in the Old Testament; but then, as now, it was
noted for the richness of its pastures. Under the Homan
empire, however, it became of great note, and contained
Caesarea the Roman capital of Palestine. No human
being now lives within many miles of this once rich and
busy city, and the waves of the Mediterranean dash over
its prostrate columns and huge masses of masonry. Beyond
Caesarea the plain becomes more contracted and irregular in
its character, until the long ridge of Mount Carmel closes
Acre up its northern frontier. Immediately N. of Mount Carmel,
and between it and the ridge which forms the promontory
of Ras Nakhora, is the plain of Acre, about 15 miles in
length from N. to S., and about 5 in general breadth from
the sea-shore to the hills which bound it on the E. It
forms, so to speak, the embouchure of the great plain of
Esdraelon, and, like the other plains, presents a sandy tract
along the coast and a fertile tract inland. The soil of this
last, though naturally rich, is now almost entirely unculti¬
vated, but in the season presents a most exuberant natural
vegetation. The town of Acre, or Accho, though of great
antiquity, being one of the places from which the Israelites
were unable to expel the ancient Canaanites, only became
of importance in modern times. It is noted for the number
of sieges it has sustained, and was called by Napoleon the
“ key of Palestine.”
laoenida. The plain of Phoenicia lay N. of that of Acre, or more
properly, included it, extending S. to Mount Carmel. It
is separated both geographically and historically from Pa¬
lestine, though forming a natural continuation of the coast
plain. Here were the great towns of Tyre and Sidon,
at one time the great centres of commerce in the ancient
world.
Carmel. Carmel is a mountain ridge 6 or 8 miles long, stretching
N. by W. from the plain of Esdraelon into the sea, where
it forms a high promontory, which incloses on the S. the
Bay of Acre. It is about 1500 feet in height, and consists
rather of several connected hills than of one ridge. No
mountain in or around Palestine is said to retain its ancient
beauty so much as Carmel;—its “ excellency” is still to be Palestine,
seen. It is covered with rich verdure, and plentifully v'—
watered by numerous crystal streams. On its summits are
pines and oaks, and farther down olives and laurel trees ;
while everywhere are to be seen fruits and flowers growing
wild in great profusion. During the middle ages, the grottos
of Carmel were the abodes of numerous monks, who thence
took the name of Carmelites.
The Lebanon Mountains consist of two ranges, which Lebanon
come down parallel to each other from the N., and ex¬
tend their southern branches into Palestine. '1 he outer or
western ridge, fronting the sea, into which it projects several
promontories, was called Libanus by ancient writers ; while
to the inner or eastern range, fronting the plains of Damas¬
cus, they gave the ndime of Anti-Libanus. In the Bible
the name Lebanon is applied to both ridges. On the
loftiest summits, rising to the height of about 9300 feet,
and in the fissures facing the north, snow may be seen all
the year round. Inclosed between the two ridges of Le¬
banon is an extensive valley, called in Scripture l' the
valley of Lebanon,” and by the ancients Ccelesjjria (“ the
inclosed or hollow Syria”). Though it can scarcely be said
to form any part of Palestine proper, yet its geographical
and historical connection with that country renders some
notice of it necessary. It is about 90 miles in length from N.
to S., and about 11 in breadth throughout, except at the two
ends, being somewhat wider at the northern, and narrower
at the southern extremity. This plain is one of the most
beautiful and fertile districts of Syria. It is abundantly
watered by numerous mountain springs ; but owing to the
concentration of the sun’s rays, the heat in summer is ex¬
cessive. Only a small portion of it is cultivated, being
chiefly used for pasture.
Immediately S. of Lebanon is the high table-land ofGalilee.
Galilee, extending to the plain of Esdraelon on the S., and
sloping on the E. to the Jordan and its upper lakes, and on
the W. to the plain of Acre. This table-land, which is
estimated to have a general elevation above the level of
the sea of from 900 to 1000 feet, is not without its emi¬
nences. The chief of these is Jebel Safet, 2770 feet above
the level of the Mediterranean. The summit of this steep
and lofty mountain is crowned by a castle; and a little be¬
low the summit is a city supposed by some to be that w hich
our Saviour had in view in his Sermon on the Mount, as
“ a city set on a hill.” The mountains of Galilee are as
distinct in form as they are separate in fact from those of
Samaria and Judea. “ Those hills are the western roots
which Hermon thrusts out towards the sea, as it thrusts out
the mountains of Bashan towards the desert; and as such
they partake of the jagged outline ol the varied vegetation,
and of the high upland hollows which characterize in a
greater or less degree the whole mass of the Lebanon range,
in contrast to the monotonous aspect of the more southern
scenery.” “ It is one peculiarity of the Galilean hills, as
distinct from those of Ephraim and Judah, that they contain
or sustain green basins of table-land just below their top¬
most ridges.” (Stanley.) In such a position stands Na¬
zareth, inclosed by an amphitheatre of rounded hills.
The high lands of Galilee are separated from the rest of Esdraelon.
Palestine on the S. by the plain of Esdraelon, extending
from the shores of the Mediterranean Sea on the W. to
the valley of the Jordan on the E. Its central and widest
portion reaches straight across, without interruption, from
the hills of Samaria to those of Galilee, and may be said
to be in the form of a triangle, measuring about 14 nailes
on the N. side, 18 on the E., and 20 on the SAY.
On the W. it is narrowed into a pass, through which
flows its only stream, the Kishon; and beyond this the
plain opens out again round the Bay of Acre. In the
E. the surface is somewhat undulated by offshoots from
the mountains ; and here three great valleys go off to the
PALE
Palestine, valley of the Jordan. These valleys are separated from
each other by the ridges of Gilboa and Little Hermon, the
central one being that which is properly known as the Val¬
ley of Jezreel; a name, however, which is sometimes given
to the whole plain. It is a deep plain, about three miles
across, and has a rapid descent to the Jordan. The north¬
ernmost branch, between Little Hermon and Tabor, in its
descent to the Jordan, opens to the N.E. into a side plain,
as it were, distinguished by the mountain called the “ Horns
of Hattin,” inclosed between the hills of Galilee, and those
which immediately skirt the sea of Tiberias. The Khurun
Hattin, or “ Horns of Hattin,” is a ridge about a quarter of
a mile in length, and 30 or 40 feet high, terminated at each
end by an elevated peak 20 or 30 feet higher. It is known
to pilgrims as the Mount of the Beatitudes, the supposed
scene of the Sermon on the Mount, though this is at least
doubtful. The plain of Esdraelon is often mentioned in
sacred history as the great battlefield of Jewish and other
nations, under its various names of Megiddo, Jezreel, &c.
Its adaptation for military contests has caused its surface to
be frequently moistened with blood from the earliest periods
of history down to our own time. It is noted for its great
fertility, and is covered with the richest pasture, having
here and there patches of cultivated land. It is sparsely
inhabited, being almost without villages, which, however,
occur on the slopes of the surrounding hills.
T&bor. Mount Tabor, in many respects the most remarkable
mountain in Palestine, stands apart and alone on the N.E.
border of the plain of Esdraelon. It is only about 1800
feet in height, but it commands an extensive and beautiful
view of the surrounding country. As seen from the N.W.,
it towers like a dome; while from the E. it has the appear¬
ance of a long arched mound. The sides are mostly
covered with bushes and oak and other trees ; but the
latter stand too far apart from each other for it to be what
could properly be called a wooded hill. The top is an
oval plain about a quarter of a mile in extent, containing
ruins of ancient buildings. From the names of Tabor and
armon. Hermon occurring together, it was taken for granted that
they must lie near each other; and hence the latter name
was identified with the hilly ridge about six miles south of
Mount labor. There is no reason to suppose, however,
that this mountain is ever referred to in Scripture as Her¬
mon ; and all the passages where that name occurs are ap¬
plicable with greater strength and beauty to Hermon, the
loftiest peak of the Lebanon Mountains. This one is
therefore now commonly called the Little Hermon {Buhy
by the Arabs), and is a desert shapeless mass, with neither
beauty nor fertility to excite the attention of the traveller.
It is about 1860 feet in height, and sinks gradually down
on the E. to a low ridge of table-land along the eastern
part of the valley of Jezreel. Farther S. are the moun-
Gilboa. tains of Gilboa, constituting an elevated tract, with several
ridges; in all about a league in breadth, and rising to the
height of about 1300 feet. “The mountains of Gilboa
seem yet to lie under the curse uttered by David in his
lamentations, for the north side, the side on which ‘ the
shield of the mighty was vilely cast away,’ and where ‘ the
beauty of Israel was slain,’ presents a more barren appear¬
ance than is almost to be found in the land.” (Van de
Velde.)
South of the plain of Esdraelon, throughout to the bor¬
ders of the southern desert, is an almost unbroken ridge
of mountains or mountain tract, stretching from north to
south, and nowhere less than from 25 to 30 miles in
breadth. Towards the east it forms the precipitous western
wall of the great valley of the Jordan and the Dead Sea ;
while towards the west it sinks down by an offset into a
ridge of lower hills, which lie between it and the great plain
along the coast of the Mediterranean. This mountainous
country rises gradually from the plain of Esdraelon to-
STINE. 183
wards the south, until, in the vicinity of Hebron, it attains Palestine,
an elevation of nearly 3000 feet above the level of the ^
Mediterranean. It comprises the districts of Judah and
Samaria, between which, however, there is no distinct natu¬
ral boundary, although they differ considerably in their gene¬
ral characteristics.
The hills of Samaria are often beautifully wooded, and Samaria,
this region is more populous and better cultivated than any
other part of Palestine. Towns and villages are scattered
here and there in every direction among olive wroods and
vineyards. The principal mountains are those of Ebal
and Gerizim, from which the solemn blessings and curses
of the lawr were declared to the assembled hosts of Israel.
They are separated from each other by a narrow valley, on
each side of which they rise in rocky precipices to the
height of about 800 feet, but from the general elevation of
the country, they are 2500 feet above the level of the
Mediterranean. In this narrow valley, in some parts only
a few hundred feet in width, stood Shechem, whose site is
now occupied by the modern Nablous—“ a valley green
with grass; gray with olives, gardens sloping down in all
directions ; at the end a white town embosomed in all this
verdure, lodged between the two mountains which extend
on either side of the valley—that on the south Gerizim,
that on the north Ebal;—this is the aspect of Nablous, the
most beautiful, perhaps it might, be said the only very
beautiful, spot in Central Palestine.” (Stanley.) Shechem
was the capital of the northern kingdom of Palestine after
the separation, and Gerizim is the mountain to which the
woman of Samaria referred when she said—“ Our fathers
worshipped in this mountain.” The well here is almost
the only special spot absolutely undisputed of all the lo¬
calities associated with our Lord’s life in Palestine. It is
remarkable, that in the evangelic narratives we find so very
little that serves to indicate the precise spots hallowod by
the life of our Saviour. It seems as if an angelic tongue
were still saying, “ He is not here, but is risen ”—“ Why
seek ye the living among the dead ?”
The mountains of Judea, although of greater historical Judes
celebrit}', are less attractive in appearance than those of
Samaria. They are rugged and generally uninteresting in
their character, but eminently fitted for the abode of that
tribe which was aptly described as a lion couching, and
not to be roused up. “ The tribes of the east and of the
north w’ere swept aw'ay by the Assyrian kings; Galilee and
Samaria fell before the Roman conquerors; whilst Judah
still remained erect, the last because the most impregnable
of the tribes of Israel.” (Stanley.) The hills of Judea
are generally separated from one another by valleys and
torrents, and are for the most part of moderate height, un¬
even, and seldom of any regular figure. The rock of which
they are composed is easily converted into mould, which,
being arrested by terraces, when washed down by the rains,
renders the hills cultivable in a series of long narrow gar¬
dens formed by these terraces from the base upwards.
Thus the hills were in former times clad most luxuriantly ;
but when the inhabitants wTere dispersed, and cultivation
was abandoned, the terraces fell to decay, and the soil which
had been collected on them was washed down into the
valleys, leaving only the arid rock bare and desolate. This
is the general character of the hills of Judea; but in some
parts they are still wooded, and in others the ancient mode
of culture is still retained, by which the traveller may now
judge how productive the country must have once been.
The features of desolation which have just been noticed
are especially true of the northern part of Judea, formin<>-
the ancient territory of Benjamin. Its most favourably”
situated mountains are wholly uncultivated, and perhaps in
no other country is such a mass of rock exhibited without
an atom of soil. In the east, towards the plain of Jericho,
it takes a naturally stern and grand character, such as
184
PALESTINE.
Palestine. n0 other part of Palestine offers. It is through this wild
and melancholy region that the roads from Jerusalem to
Jericho, and (by way of Wady Saba) to the Dead Sea, lie.
It has hence by the former route often been traversed by
travellers in their pilgrimages to the Jordan ; and they unite
in depicting it in the most gloomy hues. “ The road,” says
Dr Olin, “runs along the edge of steep precipices and
yawning gulfs, and in a few places is overhung with the
crags of the mountain. The aspect of the whole region is
peculiarly savage and dreary, vieing in these respects,
though not in overpowering grandeur, with the wilds of
Sinai. The mountains seem to have been loosened from
their foundations, and rent in pieces by some terrible con¬
vulsion, and there left to be scathed by the burning rays of
the sun, which scorches the land wdth consuming heat.”
These characteristics become more manifest on approaching
the Jordan ; and the wild region extending north of the
road is believed, with sufficient probability, to form the
“ wilderness” where, after his baptism, Jesus “ was led up”
of the Spirit to be tempted of the devil, and where “ he
fasted forty days and forty nights.” The lofty ridge which
extends north of the road, and fronts the plain of Jericho,
is called Quarantana, with reference to this event; and the
particular summit from which Satan is supposed to have
displayed to the Saviour “ the kingdoms of the world and
the glory of them,” is crowned by a chapel still occasionally
resorted to by the devouter pilgrims ; while the eastern face
which overhangs the plain is much occupied with cells and
grottos, once the favourite abodes of pious anchorites. The
Quarantana forms apparently the highest summit of the
w hole immense pile, and is distinguished for its sere and
desolate aspect even in this gloomy region of savage and
dreary sights. It is estimated to have an almost perpen¬
dicular height of 1200 or 1500 feet.
In the southern region, usually called in Scripture “the
hill country of Judah,” there are few mountains of a
marked character, the peaks of the general ridge being of
little apparent elevation, although actually much elevated
above the sea-level. The most desolate part of the whole
of this wild region seems to have been distinguished as “ the
wilderness of Judah,” while “the mountains of Judah,” or
“ the hill country of Judea,” applies to the mountainous
region south of Jerusalem, towards Hebron. To this dis¬
trict belongs the wilderness of Tekoa, and beyond it, east¬
ward, “the wilderness of Engedi,” Maon, and Ziph,—names
made familiar to us by the history of David. To obtain a
clear notion of this tract, we should view it from the great
Arabah, beyond the southern extremity of the Dead Sea,
whence it was surveyed by the Israelites when they con¬
templated entering the Promised Land from the south-east.
The two terraces which, towards the south end of the
Dead Sea on the east side, form the descent to its deep
basin from the high lands of Judea, stretch off to the south¬
west ; and the ascents from the plain to the fist, and fiom
the plateau of the first to the top of the second, which
forms the general level of Judea, present to him who ap¬
proaches from the lower region of the Arabah high moun¬
tain barriers, which he has to ascend by gorges or passes
of more or less difficult ascent. After ascending from the
great valley, the traveller passes over a wild district cov ered
with rocky hills, till he comes to the frontier-wall of the
first terrace or step, which was probably pre-eminently
“ the mountain of the Amorites.” There are in this three
principal passes, the southernmost being that of Nubeh-es-
Sufah, the Zephath of Scripture, called also Hormah, which
we know to have been the pass by which the Israelites at¬
tempted to enter Palestine from Kadesh when they were
driven back. The top of this pass is said to be 1434 feet
above the level of the sea. On reaching the top, a jour¬
ney of three hours among hills of chalky limestone brings
the traveller to the second great ascent to the general level
of the hill country of Eastern Judea. This second ascent Palestine
is similar to the first, but not more than half as high, ^
This statement will convey some idea of that difficulty of
military access to the country in this direction which even¬
tually induced the invading Hebrews to take another and
more circuitous route. In the direct south of Judah the
approach is marked by an ascent more gradual, over a suc¬
cession of less elevated plateaus, from the desert regions of
sand and rock to the hills of Judah. Recent discoveries in
that quarter have shown that much of the south border
country, which was formerly regarded as desert, is in fact a
variegated region, affording good pastures, into which the
sheep-masters of Judah doubtless sent their flocks of old.
To the east of this mountain tract lies the valley of the jor)jan>
Jordan, the most remarkable of all the known depressions
of the earth, as well on account of its great length as of its
almost incredible depth. It is around and along this deep
fissure that the hills of Western and Eastern Palestine spring
up, presenting on the one side a mass of green pastures
and forests melting away on the east into the red plains of
Hauran, and on the other a mass of gray rock rising above
the yellow desert on the south, and bounded on the west
by the long green strip of the maritime plain.
The source of the Jordan has given rise to so much un¬
certainty and doubt that we consider it necessary to go
into the subject at some length. It is usual to refer the
origin of a river to the remotest of its sources; but we oc¬
casionally find, particularly with respect to ancient rivers,
that this is not the case—various accidental circumstances
operating to give this distinction to some one of the less re¬
mote springs. This was doubtless the case here, for we can
easily suppose that the Jews would be unwilling to seek for
or to acknowledge that the sources of the Jordan lay be¬
yond their own territory. Accordingly we find that Jose¬
phus and others place the source of this river at or in the
vicinity of Banias (the ancient Paneas). It there issues
from a spacious cavern under a wall of rock at the base of
the Heish Mountain. Directly over the cavern, and in
other parts in the face of the perpendicular rock, niches
have been cut, apparently to receive statues. Here Herod
built a temple in honour of Augustus ; and somewhat be¬
low there was a town, traces of which still remain. In
one place Josephus carries its source still higher, stating
that the waters which came out at the Paneas cavern is¬
sued from Lake Phiala, which lay 15 miles eastward, and
which was the true source of the river. He relates that
the tetrarch Philip cast some chaff into this lake, and that
it came out at the Paneas cavern. Irby and Mangles, in
travelling by a direct route from Damascus to Banias in
February 1818, came upon “a very picturesque lake, ap¬
parently perfectly circular, of little more than a mile in cir¬
cumference.” According to Dr Robinson’s account, which
differs in several respects from that of Irby and Mangles,
it lies at the bottom of a deep bowl, apparently an ancient
crater, about 150 or 200 feet below the level of the sur¬
rounding country. The water is stagnant and impure,
with a slimy look. The singularity of this lake is, that it
has no apparent supply or discharge, and its waters appeared
perfectly still. The locality and appearance of this lake
leave little doubt that it is the Phiala of Josephus—a deep
round lake, like a bowd or cup, whence its name; but it
is impossible to suppose that it can have any subterranean
communication with the stream at Panias, for in order
to that it must pass under a rivulet which lies apparently
lower than the lake itself. The bright, limpid, sparkling
waters of the former can have no connection with the dark,
stagnant, slimy matter of the latter ; and, indeed, to supply
such a fountain would exhaust the lake in one day.
A second source of the Jordan, also described by ancient
writers, is at a place called Tell el-Kady, about 2J miles
W. by N. from Banias. The Tell, or hill, is a small oblong
PALESTINE.
185
Palestine, eminence on the plain, extending from E. to W. The
western end appears as if built up with large trap boulders,
and through these the water gushes out several feet above
the base. It forms a little lake at the bottom, and then
rushes down a steep channel to the next lower plateau. In
the surface of the hill directly above is a cavity of some
extent, into which the water also rises, and runs off as a
considerable stream through a break in the edge of the
Tell, tumbling down its south-western side, and afterwards
joining the other stream. These streams form together the
middle and largest arm of the Jordan, called Leddan;
equal, indeed, in the volume of its water to both the other
branches. The fountain at Tell el-Kady exactly corre¬
sponds to the source which Josephus speaks of as “ the
other source” of the Jordan, called also Dan, where stood
the city of Dan, anciently Laish, belonging originally to
the territory of Sidon, but captured by the Danites, and
named after the founder of their tribe. The same city
Dan is placed by Eusebius and Jerome at four Roman
miles from Paneas. towards Tyre, corresponding well with
the present distance of the sources. The river issuing from
this source, Josephus says, was called “the Lesser Jordan,”
obviously in distinction to the somewhat longer stream from
Paneas, into which it flows.
We find, however, that there is a source more remote
than either of these, and one of which the ancients make
no mention whatever. This is the stream coming from
Wady et-Teim, called Nahr Hasbany, which flows about
a mile to the W. of Tell el-Kady. It rises 6 or 8 miles
farther N., near the large village of Hasbeiya, and is
afterwards joined in its course by a stream from Mount
Hermon. The first who minutely described this source of
the Jordan was Mr Thomson the missionary, whose account
is to be found in the number of the Bibliotheca Sacra for
February 1846. He says:—“Sept. 20th, 1843.—We left
the palace of the emirs of Hasbeiya about sunrise, and in
half an hour reached the fountain of Hasbany. Our path
led us across the bed of a winter torrent, which comes
down from the mountains on the E. of Hasbeiya, and over
a rocky hill covered with lava boulders. The fountain lies
nearly N.W. from the town, and boils up from the bottom
of a shallow pool some eight or ten rods in circumference.
The water is immediately turned by a strong stone dam
into a wide mill-race. This is undoubtedly the most dis¬
tant fountain, and therefore the true source of the Jordan.
  It meanders for the first 3 miles through a narrow
but very lovely and highly-cultivated valley. Its margin is
protected and adorned with the green fringe and dense
shade of the sycamore, button, and willow trees; while
innumerable fish sport in its cool and crystal bosom. It
then sinks rapidly down a constantly deepening gorge of
black basalt for about 6 miles, when it reaches the level of
the great volcanic plain, extending to the marsh above the
Lake Huleh. Thus far the direction is nearly S., but it now
bears a little westward, and in 8 or 10 miles it enters the
Huleh not far from its N.W. corner, having been im-
mensely enlargcd by the waters from the great fountains of
Banias, 1 ell el-Kady, el-Mellahah, Derakit or Belat, and
innumerable other springs. The distance from the fountain
of Hasbany to the lake cannot be less than 25 miles, and
nearly in a straight direction  Although the channel
immediately above the fountain of the Hasbany is during
most of the year dry and dusty, yet during the rainy season
a great volume of water rushes down from the heights of
Jebel esh-Sheikh, above Rasheiya, a distance of 20 miles,
and unites with the water of this fountain. The stream is
there so formidable as to require a good stone bridge, which
is thrown across it a few rods below the fountain.” A
similar account of this source is given by Van de Velde
and others who have since visited it. The former, who
was there in 1852, says—“A little higher up the water is
VOL. xvix.
turned off by a large stone dam, and part of it is carried Palestine,
away in a small stream, which works a mill lower down. K
A few yards above is the basin or source where the water
comes bubbling up from under steep projecting rocks. It
is of a transparent dark colour, and appears to be of im¬
mense depth. But there was still something I did not
understand: it appeared to me that the main stream of
water came down from a point farther up; this made me
doubt whether I really had before me the right source,
until it was explained to me that this stream which I saw
coming down from the N.E., above the source, was only a
winter torrent, which, rising at Rasheiya, swells into a
brook of no inconsiderable appearance, containing even
more water than the Hasbany source itself, but which,
nevertheless, dries up entirely in summer, and then leaves
the true source visible.” The question as to the source of
the Jordan is, whether we are to adopt that which has now
been found to have the most remote origin, or to keep to
that which the usage of all antiquity has sanctioned? Dr
Robinson seems to be almost the only supporter of the
latter view. “ The attempt,” he says, “ to introduce a
change at this late hour would be alike presumptuous and
futile. As well might we require the majestic floods of the
Mississippi and Missouri to exchange these names above
their junction, inasmuch as the latter is, of the two, by far
the longer and the mightier stream.” It seems to us, how¬
ever, that the sanction of ancient usage is not in this case
so strong, nor has it been in modern times in so general use,
as to lead us to depart from what is an all but universal rule.
It was the general opinion till very recently, that the different
sources did not commingle their waters until they met in
the small lake now called Bahr el-Huleh, the Merom of
Scripture; but it has been found that they unite at some
distance from the lake, and enter it in one stream.
The first of the three great lakes of the Jordan is the Merom
Bahr el-Huleh, the Waters of Merom of the Old Testa¬
ment, and the Lake Samochonitis of Josephus. Its dimen¬
sions are very variously stated, and they doubtless vary
much at different times of the year. Dr Robinson esti¬
mates it to be about 4 or 5 miles in length, and not less
than 4 in breadth at the northern end. Besides this, how¬
ever, the lake was skirted on the N. by a marshy tract of equal
or greater extent, covered with tall reeds and flags, but which
in the rainy season is doubtless covered with water, and
may therefore be properly regarded as forming part of the
area of the lake. The basin of the lake is bounded on the
W. by a high ridge of hills, and on the E. by a much lower
ridge. The lake does not occupy the centre of the valley,
but is much nearer to the eastern than to the western side.
There is a space of about 5 miles between its shore and the
western hills, but on the opposite side its border extends
almost to the hills. The length of the basin is about 15 miles.
The lake abounds in fish, and is the resort of numerous wild
fowl. On quitting this lake the Jordan passes rapidly along
the narrow valley, and between well-shaded banks, to the
Lake of Gennesareth, called also the Lake of Tiberias or the
Sea of Galilee, a distance of about 10 miles. In this part of
its course it has a fall of nearly 400 feet, and is described as a
continuous torrent rushing down in a narrow rocky channel
between almost precipitous mountains. About 2 miles
below Lake Huleh is a bridge called Jacob’s Bridge, and
here the river is about 80 feet wide and 4 feet deep.
The Sea of Galilee, called in the Old Testament the Sea gea 0f
of Chinnereth, is the second of the three great lakes of the Galilee.
Jordan. It is situated in a deep basin, more than 1000
feet below the level of the surrounding country, and 328
feet below the level of the Mediterranean. It is about
13 miles in length by 6 in breadth, and is surrounded by
lofty and precipitous hills. Though thus sheltered, it is
yet liable to sudden and dangerous storms ; the wind, when
violent, coming down almost perpendicularly upon its sur-
2 A
186 PALESTINE.
Palestine, face, and ploughing it up into huge waves. It was in one
of these storms that the disciples were overtaken, and in
danger of perishing, when Jesus came to them walking on
the sea. The barrenness of the surrounding mountains,
and the total absence of wood, give an aspect of dulness to
the scenery ; and this impression is heightened by the dead
calm and the silence which reigns over the wide expanse
of its surface. Its waters are very clear and sweet, and
contain various species of excellent fish in great abundance.
The borders of the lake were in the time of Christ well
peopled, being covered with numerous towns and villages,
but now they are almost desolate, and the fish and water-
fowl are but little disturbed. When visited by the American
expedition in 1848, there was only one small frame-boat on
the lake, used merely to bring wood across from the oppo¬
site side. On the shore of this lake stood Capernaum, where
Jesus dwelt; Bethsaida and Chorazin, where many of his
mighty works were done; Magdala, the residence of Mary
Magdalene; and Tiberias, which had only just then been
built by Herod Antipas, and was beginning to rise into
importance. Along its banks the depth ol its situation
produces a tropical vegetation unknown in the hills above.
Fertility is everywhere more or less apparent in the thin
strip of land which intervenes between the mountains and
the lake. On its western side the mountains recede sud¬
denly inland, leaving an open level plain, now called el-
Ghuweir, and anciently “the land of Gennesareth.” Jose¬
phus speaks of this plain as a place of wonderful fertility,
abounding with fig-trees, walnuts, olives, and palms, and
producing the principal fruits all the year round, and grapes
and figs during ten months of the year. Though this de¬
scription is evidently exaggerated, Dr Wilson says that
“ the valley has every appearance of the greatest fertility;
and when kept in order and properly laid out, would be
truly beautiful and delightful. At present it has some rich
pasturage and cultivated fields, bearing luxuriant crops of
corn, rice, and vegetables. Wild figs and quantities
of the nakb tree are still found growing in it in several
places. Various lines of oleanders, particularly along the
streams which run through it, add to its beauty. The soil
is of a dark alluvial loam, and contains the debris of the
basaltic rock in the neighbourhood.” This tract is de¬
finitely bounded by the hills which run down to the lake
on the S. and N. of it, at Mejdel and at Khan Minyeh. It
is about 3 English geographical miles in length, by 2 in
breadth. “No less than four springs pour forth their
almost full-grown rivers through the plain.” (Stanley.)
From the Sea of Galilee to the Dead Sea the direct dis¬
tance is only about 60 miles, but by reason of its many wind¬
ings the Jordan has here a length of more than 200 miles.
In’this distance it has a fall of nearly 1000 feet. This por¬
tion of the river was explored by Lieut. Molyneux, of H.M.S.
Spartan, in 1847, and an account of the expedition is given
in the Royal Geographical Society's Journal for 1848. On
leaving the Sea of Tiberias they found the river to be up¬
wards of 100 feet in breadth, and 4 or 5 feet deep. In many
parts it was split up into a number of small streams, with
little water in any of them, and occasionally the boat had to be
carried upwards of 100 yards over rocks and through thoi'ny
bushes. In other places it had to be carried on the backs of
the camels for some distance, the stream being quite imprac¬
ticable. At its upper end the ghor, or great valley of the Jor¬
dan, is about 8 or 9 miles broad, and this space is anything
but flat—nothing but a continuation of bare hills, with yellow
dried-up weeds, which look at a distance like corn-stubbles.
These hills, however, sink into insignificance when compared
to the ranges of mountains which inclose the ghor, and it is
therefore only by comparison that this part of it is entitled
to be called a valley. Within this broader valley is a
smaller one on a lower level, through which the river flows.
After passing el-Buk’ah, the Jordan forms two branches,
which inclose an oval-shaped island about 5 or 6 miles in Palestine,
circumference. Here its winding course is marked by
luxuriant vegetation, and the ghor or valley now begins to
assume a much better and more fertile aspect. It appears
to be composed of two different platforms; the upper one
on either side projects from the foot of the hills which form
the great valley, and is tolerably level, but barren and un¬
cultivated. It then falls away in the form of rounded sand¬
hills or whitish perpendicular cliffs, varying from 150 to 200
feet in height, to the lower plain, which is properly the
valley of the Jordan. The river here and there washes the
foot of the cliffs which inclose this smaller valley, but
generally it winds in the most tortuous manner between
them. In many places these cliffs are like walls. About
this part the lower plain is about a mile and a half or two
miles broad, and full of the most rank and luxuriant vege¬
tation, like a jungle. At Attah the lower valley breaks out
into a magnificent plain, extending from the foot of the
hills on either side across the ghor, but with a steep western
side, where the large Arab village of Beisan stands. On
reaching the top of this high western ridge, the country
southward, as far as the eye could see, was fertile, well
watered, and thickly inhabited. Hundreds of small sheds
might be seen studded on the plain, with men watching the
crops (chiefly Indian corn), and slinging stones to keep off
the birds. “I think,” says Lieutenant Molyneux, “the
view from this point over the valley of the Jordan was one
of the finest things I had seen ; an abundant vegetation
extending up the slopes of the eastern hills, which are
crowned with trees up to the summit, and everything grow¬
ing in the wildest luxuriance; while on the western side
the higher steppe breaks down into steep sand-hills or
whitish perpendicular cliffs, with only here and there the
means of ascent. The river as usual winds very much,
with banks about 20 feet in height, of brown clayey
soil, somewhat resembling those of the 4 hames, and for
some distance on either side a thick and almost impene¬
trable jungle.” Such is the general character of the Jor¬
dan valley to the Dead Sea,—sometimes lofty perpendicular
cliffs or sand-hills inclose the river on each side, at other
times they recede to a considerable distance, and leave an
extent of jungle or fertile plain. The valley seemed to
contain a considerable population. Next year (1848) an
American expedition, under the command of Lieutenant
Lynch, U.S.N., likewise explored this portion of the valley
of the Jordan. The account given by this expedition does
not differ materially from that furnished by Lieutenant
Molyneux, except that the river in the former case was
greater, being in April, whereas in the latter case it was in
August. “ The great secret,” says Lieutenant Lynch, “of
the depression between Lake Tiberias and the Dead Sea
is solved by the tortuous course of the Jordan. In a space
of 60 miles of latitude, and 4 or 5 miles of longitude, the
Jordan traverses at least 200 miles. The river is in the
latter stage of a freshet; a few weeks earlier or later, and
the passage would have been impracticable. As it is, we
have plunged down twenty-seven threatening rapids, be¬
sides a great many of lesser magnitude.”
The valley of the Jordan is generally not more than about Plain of
8 miles in width, but immediately above the Dead Sea the Jericho,
hills on either side recede, leaving a plain about 12 miles
in breadth. This is the plain of Jericho, now partly desert,
but, from the abundance of water and the heat of the cli¬
mate, susceptible for the most part of being rendered in the
highest degree productive. Indeed, its fertility has been
celebrated in every age. Josephus, whenever he has oc¬
casion to mention Jericho, rarely fails to break forth into
praises of the richness and productiveness of its environs.
He calls it the most fertile tract of Judea; pronounces it a
divine region ; and, in speaking of the fountain, says it
watered a tract 70 stadia long by 20 broad, covered with
PALESTINE.
187
Palestine, beautiful gardens and groves of palms of various species.
The Scriptures call Jericho the “ city of palm treesand
Josephus describes these graceful trees as here abundant
and very large, and growing even along the banks of the
Jordan. This region also produced honey, opobalsam, the
cypress tree (or el-henna), the sycamore, and myrobalanum,
as well as the common fruits of the earth, in great abund¬
ance. Of all these productions few are now to be seen.
The groves of palm trees have disappeared ; even the one
solitary remnant noticed by recent travellers has, within
the last few years, taken its departure. The sycamore, too,
has retired from the plain, and the opobalsam is no longer
known in the country. Honey, if found at all, is now com¬
paratively rare, and the cypress tree has entirely disap¬
peared. The myrobalanum alone appears to thrive, being
probably the thorny shrub growing wild in the plain to
which the name of zukkum is given by the Arabs. It pro¬
duces a green nut, from the kernel of which is extracted the
oil known in the present day as the “balsam of Jericho.”
Dead Sea. The Dead Sea (called in Scripture the Salt Sea, the
Sea of the Plain or the Arabah, and the Eastern Sea; by
Josephus, the Asphaltic Lake, Ai/avt; ’Ao-^aArm/s; and by
the Arabs, Birket Lut, “ Sea of Lot”), is the largest as well
as the most remarkable of the lakes of Palestine. It is
about 39 or 40 geographical miles in length from north to
south, and 9 or 10 wide from east to west. It lies deeply
embedded between, on the western side, lofty cliffs rising
to the height of about 1500 feet, and on the eastern, high
mountains, the loftiest ridges of which are estimated to be
from 2000 to 2500 feet above the sea. The northern
shore of the lake, as described by Lynch, is an extensive
mud flat, with a sandy plain beyond ; and the north-western
an unmixed bed of gravel coming in a gradual slope from
the mountains to the sea. The eastern coast is a rugged
line of mountains, bare of all vegetation,—a continuation of
the Hauran range coming from the north, and extending
south beyond the scope of vision, throwing out three
marked and seemingly equidistant promontories from its
south-eastern extremity. At the south-western extremity
of the lake is the isolated ridge called the Mountain of Us-
dom, containing fossil salt. The bottom consists of two
submerged plains, an elevated and a depressed one,—the
southern averaging about thirteen, and the northern about
thirteen hundred feet below the surface. The well-defined
promontory on its eastern side marks the extent of each
of these plains. The old stories about the pestiferous quali¬
ties of the Dead Sea are mere fables. Birds are observed
flying over the sea, and even resting upon its waters, with¬
out being injured ; and Dr Robinson was five days in the
vicinity without perceiving any noisome smell or noxious
vapour arising from the lake. The uncommon saltness of
the water, however, renders it speedily destructive to any fish
that may be brought down by the streams; but it is asserted
that there is one small species of fish peculiar to it. The
quantity of salt, too, that is constantly given off in small
particles is equally destructive to vegetation on its shores.
Everything along the shore is covered with a white in¬
crustation of salt. “ Strewn along its desolate margin lie
the most striking memorials of this last conflict of life and
death; trunks and branches of trees, torn down from the
thickets of the river-jungle by the violence of the Jordan,
thrust out into the sea, and thrown up again by its waves,
dead and barren as itself.” (Stanley.) (See Asphaltites.)
The deep depression of the Dead Sea below the level
mi u ^f^*t:erranean appears never to have been suspected
iml the time of its actual discovery in 1837, when Messrs
Moore and Beek, then engaged in surveying it, were led
U) examine the question of its comparative elevation.
Since that time various barometrical observations have been
made, but they differ considerably from each other. The
trigonometrical observations of Lieutenant Svmonds of the
British Royal Engineers are the most reliable that we yet Palestine,
possess, and they give its depression at 1312-2 feet below
the level of the Mediterranean, which corresponds very
closely with that obtained by Mr Henry Poole in 1855
with the aneroid metallique,—namely, ] 313-5 feet.
It was long believed that this lake did not exist before
the destruction of Sodom and the other “ cities of the
plain,” and that before that time the Jordan continued its
course through the great valley of Arabah, which extends
from the Dead to the Red Sea. The fact, however, of the
former being above 1300 feet lower than the latter, and
the discovery of a ridge of high land, about 400 feet above
the level of the sea, stretching directly across this valley,
render this hypothesis extremely improbable. Even sup¬
posing that this ridge may be of recent formation, and that
the depression of the Jordan valley has taken place since
that time, we have yet, from Lake Huleh where the depres¬
sion commences, to the Red Sea, a direct distance of nearly
300 miles, with a fall of only about 50 feet. It seems
more likely that the fertile and well-watered district in which
stood the “ cities of the plain,” was that southern portion
ot the lake which is at present submerged under some 13
feet of water. It seems, too, to be the salt rocks around
this portion that give to the waters their present deadly
qualities.
Though there is every reason to believe that the Dead
Sea has existed here from the earliest times that we have
any account of the country, it is impossible to suppose that
it was in its present depressed state at the time when
“ Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan,
that it was well watered everywhere, before the Lord de¬
stroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the
Lord.” The appearance of the district itself, with its
numerous evidences of active volcanic agency,—its bitu¬
men, sulphur, nitre, lava, &c.,—render this view extremely
likely. “The bituminous and sulphureous sources of
the Dead Sea,” says Volney, “ the lava, the pumice-
stones thrown upon its banks, demonstrate that
the seat of a subterraneous fire is not yet extinguished.
Clouds of smoke are often discovered to rise from the lake,
and new crevices to be formed on its shore.” Lieutenant
Lynch unexpectedly found between the Jabbok and the
Dead Sea a sudden break-down in the bed of the Jordan.
He says, that “ if there be a similar break in the water¬
courses to the south of the sea, accompanied with like
volcanic characters, there can scarce be a doubt that
the whole ghor has sunk from some extraordinary convul¬
sion, preceded most probably by an eruption of fire and a
general conflagration of the bitumen which abounded in
the plain. Whether this great depression took place at
once on the destruction of the cities of the plain, or has been
going on gradually since that time, is very doubtful. The lat¬
ter hypothesis, however, seems the more probable. The
accounts given by modern travellers of the River Jordan
differ in many respects from the character that we form of it
from the notices that occur in Scripture. In the latter case,
we figure to ourselves a considerable river moving majesti¬
cally along its course, having few fords, and periodically
overflowing its banks. On the other hand, we have an im¬
petuous torrent, with no proof of its overflowing its banks,
and in many places without sufficient water to float a boat
of light draught. Molyneux, in speaking of the upper part
of its course, says,—“ I am within the mark when I say that
there are many hundreds of places where we might have
walked across without wetting our feet, on the large rocks
and stones.” These accounts can easily be reconciled
if we suppose that formerly the depression of the Dead Sea
and the lower course of the Jordan was much less than at
present, and that consequently it had a slower course, and
a considerably larger volume of water.
It is now generally believed to be most probable that.
188
Palestine.
Minor
streams.
PALES
anterior to the historical period, the whole valley, from the
base of Hermon to the Red Sea, was once an arm of the
Indian Ocean, which has gradually subsided, leaving the
three lakes in its bed, with their connecting river. Ac¬
cording to Captain Newbold, in the Journal of the
Roy at Asiatic Society, vol. xvi., “ The valley of the ghor,
which is a vast longitudinal crevasse in calcareous and vol¬
canic rocks, extending from the southern roots of Libanus
and Anti-Libanus, to the Gulf of Akaba, from 1000 to 2000
feet deep, and from 1 to 8 miles broad (this is understated),
appears to have been caused by the forcible rending and
falling in of the aqueous strata resulting from the eruption
of the basalt, which bases it almost from its commencement
to the Dead Sea Watery corrosion or abrasion can
have had little influence in its formation. The great alter¬
ations in its surface commenced prior to the historic period,
and terminated probably in the catastrophe of Sodom.
See also an article on this subject in the Royal Geographi¬
cal Society’s Journal, vol. xxiii. (1853), by Captain W.
Allen, R.N., who, from indications of alluvial deposit on the
sides of the mountains around the Dead Sea and lower
portion of the Jordan, apparently marking the gradual sub¬
sidence of the waters in this district, came to the same con¬
clusion. As, however, these indications seem to be entirely
confined, as regards the Dead Sea, to its northern portion,
and as their appearance would seem to indicate a time more
recent than that claimed for that state of the country, we
are inclined to consider it rather as an indication ot the
gradual sinking of the basin of the Dead Sea subse¬
quently to the destruction of the cities of the plain.
Besides the Jordan, Palestine possesses scarcely another
river of any size. Most of those that are laid down in the
maps, or whose names figure in history, are merely tor¬
rents or water-courses, which carry off the waters in the
rainy season, or, if they have their origin in springs, are
spent in the season of drought soon after they quit their
sources. There are, however, numerous springs, which in
a country like this are of the greatest importance to culti¬
vation. The Kishon, the river on whose banks the army
of Sisera was overthrown, is in winter and spring a large
and rapid river, flowing from Mount Tabor, and collecting
the waters of a large"part of the plain of Esdraelon and
its bordering hills ; but in summer all the part which
passes over the plain is quite dried up, and only water from
perennial springs in Carmel is then found in the last seven
miles of its bed. It enters the Bay of Acre near the foot
of Mount Carmel. The Kishon, says Van de Velde, “ is
considered, on account of its quicksands, the most dangerous
river in the land and hence Deborah and Barak, in their
song of victory, sang—“ The River Kishon swept them
away ; that ancient river, the River Kishon.” I hey that
fled had to cross the bed of the torrent; but the Lord sent
a heavy rain ; the waters rose ; the warriors stumbled, and
fell into the quicksands, and the waves which came rushing
on w ashed them away into the sea. The Belus, now called
Nahr Kardanus, falls into the Bay of Acre higher up than
the Kishon. It is a small stream, fordable even at its
mouth in summer. It is not mentioned in the Bible, and
is chiefly celebrated for the tradition, that the accidental
vitrefaction of its sands taught men the art of making glass.
The chief of the other streams that fall into^ the Mediter¬
ranean are,—the Zerka, about 3 miles N. of the ruins of
Caesarea, and supposed to be identical with the Crocodile
River of Pliny ; the Nahr el-Kasab, about 12 miles S. ot
Caesarea, supposed to be the River Kanah ot Scripture ; the
Nahr el-Arsouf, about 10 miles S. of this last, and about
the same distance N. of Joppa, chiefly noted for a celebrated
castle of the same name which stood near its mouth in the
time of the Crusades; the Nahr-Abi-Petros, a little to the
N. of Joppa, and the Nahr el-Rubin, 12 miles S. of that
town ; a brook about a mile and a half S. of Ashdod, which
TINE.
appears to be the Sorek of Scripture, and between Askelon Palestine,
and Gaza, two small streams, w'hose names are unknown ;
the Wady Gaza, 2 or 3 miles S. of the town of that name,
which seems to be the Bezor of Scripture; and the brook
el-Arish, which is supposed to be the river of Egypt which
formed the southern boundary of the coast of Palestine.
The most important tributaries of the Jordan and the Dead
Sea are the Jarmuk, the Jabbok, and the Arnon. The
first of these, called also Mandhur (the Hieromax of ancient
geography), joins the Jordan about 5 miles below the Lake
of Gennesareth. Its source is ascribed to a small lake,
about a mile in circumference, lying 30 miles E. of the
Jordan. It is a beautiful stream, and brings down a con¬
siderable body of water. The Jabbok, now called the
Zerka, is a narrow, but deep and rapid stream, which joins
the Jordan about half-way between Gennesareth and the
Dead Sea. The Arnon, now the Wady Modjeb, is an
affluent of the Dead Sea, and often mentioned in Scripture.
The brook Kedron flows through the valley of Jehoshaphat,
on the E. side of Jerusalem, to the Dead Sea. It is at
present nothing more than the dry bed of a winter torrent,
and even in that season there is no constant flow of water.
The resident missionaries assured Dr Robinson that they had
not during several years seen a stream running through the
valley. It, however, bears marks of being occasionally
swept over by a considerable volume of water.
Of the region beyond the Jordan we know very little, as Eastern
it has been seldom visited by travellers, partly on account Palestine,
of the insecure nature of the country, and partly also from
the slight historical interest that attaches to it in compari¬
son with Western Palestine. “ The mountains rise from
the valley of the Jordan to the height, it is believed, of 2000
or 3000 feet, and this gives them, when seen from the west¬
ern side, the appearance of a much greater actual eleva¬
tion than they really possess, as though they rose high
above the mountains of Judea on which the spectator stands.
As they are approached from the ghor, the horizontal out¬
line which they always wear when seen from a distance is
broken ; and it is described, that when their summits are
attained, a wholly new scene bursts upon the view, unlike
anything which could be expected from below—unlike
anything in Western Palestine. A wide table-land appears,
tossed about in wild confusion of undulating downs, clothed
with rich grass throughout, and in the northern parts with
magnificent forests of sycamore, beech, terebinth, ilex, and
enormous fig trees  The vast herds of wild cattle,
now seemingly extinct, but which then wandered through
those woods,—as those of Scotland through its ancient
forests,—were in like manner at once the terror and pride
of the Israelite—‘ the fat bulls of Bashan.’ Flocks, too,
there were of every kind—£ rams, and lambs, and goats,
and bullocks, all of them fallings of Bashan.’” (Stanley.)
Mr Buckingham describes with equal delight and admira¬
tion the varied beauties of this romantic region, the Deca-
polis of the Romans, the seat of ten renowned cities, famed
for wealth and refinement, but now a scene of desolation,
over which the wild Arab ranges with his flocks in quest ot
pasture or of prey. The country, according to the account
of this traveller, is of extraordinary richness, abounding in
the most beautiful prospects of thick forests, verdant slopes,
and extensive plains. The landscape alone varied at every^
turn, and gave new beauties from every different point of
view. “ The general face of this region,” he adds, “ im¬
proved as we advanced farther into it; and every new
direction of our path opened upon us views which sur¬
prised and charmed us by their grandeur and their beauty.
Lofty mountains gave an outline of the most magnificent
character; flowing beds of secondary hills softened the
romantic wildness of the picture ; gentle slopes, clothed
with wood, gave a rich variety of tints hardly to be imi¬
tated by the pencil; deep valleys, filled with murmuring
PALESTINE.
Palestine, streams and verdant meadows, offered all the luxuriance of
cultivation ; and herds and flocks gave life and animation to
scenes as grand, as beautiful, and as highly picturesque, as
the genius or taste of a Claude could either invent or de¬
sire.” To the south, on the eastern shore of the Dead Sea,
is found the bleak, barren, and mountainous district of
Carac, where are the ruins of Rabboth-Moab, the ancient
capital, and formerly a populous and an important place.
Farther to the north is a vast plain of table-land, stretching
southward from Damascus, not watered by any great river,
yet rendered fertile by the industry of the inhabitants, who
collect the rain-water into ponds for the purpose of irriga¬
tion, and thus contrive to raise large crops of grain. Of
these countries, Hauran is the most celebrated for its luxu¬
riant harvests of wheat; and the undulations of the ripened
grain on its extensive fields have been compared to the
rolling waves of the ocean. Many hummocks are seen
scattered over the plain, the sites generally of deserted vil¬
lages. All these hummocks, and every stone found in the
field,—all the building stones, and the whole mountains of
Hauran,—consist of basalt; and the houses being entirely
built of this stone, even to the door-posts, present rather a
sombre appearance. The beauty and fertility of this re¬
gion is said to far exceed that of Western Palestine. It
was pre-eminently “ a place for cattle and on this account
it was coveted by Reuben and Gad and the half tribe of
Manasseh.
Scenery. The high terms of admiration in which most travellers
speak of the scenery of Palestine are evidently beyond the
truth. “ As a general rule,” says Mr Stanley, “ not only
is it without the two main elements of beauty—variety of
outline, and variety of colour—but the features rarely so
group together as to form any distinct or impressive com¬
bination. The tangled and featureless hills of the lowlands
of Scotland and North Wales, are perhaps the nearest like¬
ness accessible to Englishmen of the general landscape of
Palestine south of the plain of Esdraelon. Rounded hills,
chiefly of a gray colour,—gray partly from the limestone of
which they are all formed, partly from the tufts of gray
shrub with which their sides are thinly clothed, and from
the prevalence of the olive,—their sides formed into con¬
centric rings of rock, which must have served in ancient
times as supports to the terraces, of which there are still
traces, to their very summits ; valleys, or rather the meet¬
ings of these gray slopes, with the beds of dry water¬
courses at their feet—long sheets of bare rock laid, like
flagstones, side by side along the soil; these are the chief
features of the greater part of the scenery of the historical
parts of Palestine. In such a landscape the contrast of
every exception is doubly felt The eye rests
with peculiar eagerness on the few instances in which the
gentle depressions become deep ravines, as in those about
Jerusalem, or those leading down to the valley of the Jor¬
dan ; or in which the mountains assume a bold and pecu¬
liar form, as Lebanon and Hermon, at the head of the
whole country, or Tabor, ‘ Nebi-Samuel/ and the ‘ Frank
Mountain,’ in the centre of the hills themselves.” On enter¬
ing Palestine, he was struck with “ the western, almost the
English, character of the scenery. Those wild uplands of
Carmel and Ziph are hardly distinguishable (except by
their ruined cities and red anemones) from the lowlands
of Scotland or of Wales ; the cultivated valleys of Hebron
(except by their olives) from the general features of a rich
valley in Yorkshire or Derbyshire.”
Ruins. ‘‘ Above all other countries in the world, it is a land of
ruins. It is not that the particular ruins are on a scale
equal to those of Greece or Italy, stiC less to those of
Egypt. But there is no country in which they are so
numerous, none in which they bear so large a proportion to
the villages and towns still in existence. In Judea it is
hardly an exaggeration to say that, whilst for miles and
189
miles there is no appearance of present life or habitation, Palestine,
except the occasional goat-herd on the hill-side, or gather-
ing of women at the wells, there is hardly a hill-top of the
many within sight which is not covered by the vestiges of
some fortress or city of former ages.” “ The ruins we
now see are of the most diverse ages; Saracenic, crusad¬
ing Roman, Grecian, Jewish, extending perhaps even to
the old Canaanitish remains before the arrival of Joshua.”
“ In the rich local vocabulary of the Hebrew language, the
words lor sites of ruined cities occupy a remarkable place.
Four separate designations are used for the several stages
of decay or of destruction which were to be seen even
during the first vigour of the Israelite conquest and
monarchy.” (Stanley. ) On this subject we cannot re¬
frain from adducing the testimony of the Rev. J. L.
Porter regarding the existing ruins in Eastern Palestine.
“ I had often read,” he says, “ how God had delivered
into the hands of the children of Manasseh, Og, King of
Bashan, and all his people; and I had observed the state¬
ment, that a portion of his territory, even the region of
Argob, contained threescore cities fenced with high walls,
gates, and bars, besides unwalled towns a great many. I
had sometimes turned to my atlas, where I found the
ivhole of Bashan delineated, and not larger than an ordi¬
nary English county That sixty ivalled
cities, besides unwalled towns a great many, should be
found at such a remote age, far from the sea, with no
rivers and little commerce, appeared quite inexplicable.
Inexplicable and mysterious though it appeared, it was
strictly true. On the spot, with my own eyes, I had now
verified it. Lists of more than ahundred ruined cities and
villages in these mountains alone I had tested and found
correct, though not complete. More than thirty of these I
had myself either visited or observed so as to fix their posi¬
tions on the map.” {Five Years in Damascus, 1855.)
The mountains of Palestine are chiefly composed of an Geology,
oolitic limestone, of a whitish or light gray colour, and
abounding in caverns, to which frequent allusion is made in
Scripture. In many places the limestone is covered with
chalk rocks, containing layers and detached masses of flint,
as well as corals, shells, &c. Masses of black basalt occa¬
sionally occur in the N. of Galilee, but are more common
on the eastern side of the Jordan, and about the Dead Sea.
In the valley of the Jordan, and especially about the
Dead Sea, we have unmistakeable indications of volcanic
action ; and even in the northern portion of the valley, and
about the sources of the river, these are much more nume¬
rous than was formerly supposed. Such indications, how¬
ever, do not seem to have been discovered in other parts
of the country, but earthquakes are not unfrequent. At
Tiberias, the Dead Sea, and other parts of the valley,
hot springs occur, many of which have a sulphureous taste
or odour. Lava is found about the Dead Sea, the Sea of
Tiberias, and other parts of the Jordan valley. At Beisan,
Dr Robertson writes, “the whole region here is volcanic,
like that around and above the Lake of Tiberias and Mr
Buckingham, while crossing the River Hieromax, in his jour¬
ney to Nazareth, observed that the dark masses of rock over
which it took its course resembled a stream of cooled lava.
Of the mineral resources of the country little is known. Minerals.
Iron is abundant in several parts, but it is almost the only
metal that is known to exist. Some traces of silver have
been found. Near the sources of the Jordan there are
rich mines of asphaltum, and large portions of this mineral
are occasionally washed up by the Dead Sea. Salt is very
abundant in the neighbourhood of the Dead Sea; and
sulphur, nitre, and pumice are found there.
The climate of Palestine is temperate, and much less ciimate
changeable than ours. The variations of sunshine and rain,
which with us extend throughout the year, are there un¬
known, the year being divided into a rainy season, com-
190 PALESTINE.
Palestine, prising the latter part of autumn and the winter, and a dry
's'—V"*'' season, comprising the rest of the year, when the sky is
almost uninterruptedly cloudless, and rain very rarely falls.
The rainy season usually commences about the end of Octo¬
ber or beginning of November, not suddenly, but by de¬
grees, and with occasional intervals of two or three days
of fine weather. During the months of November and
December the rains continue to fall heavily, and afterwards
less so, and at longer intervals, till the end of March or
beginning of April, when they entirely cease. The early
and the latter rains mentioned in Scripture seem to have
been the first showers of autumn and the later showers of
spring. In summer the absence of rain soon destroys the
verdure of the fields, and gives to the general landscape
the aspect of drought and barrenness. In autumn the
whole land becomes dry and parched, the cisterns are
nearly empty, and all nature, animate and inanimate, looks
forward with longing for the return of the rainy season.
Snow falls more or less in winter, but the cold is not
severe, and the ground is never frozen. In the higher
parts, as at Jerusalem, it often falls to the depth of a foot
or more, but it never lies long upon the ground. Thunder
and lightning are frequent in winter. In the plains and
valleys the heat of summer is very oppressive, but not in
the more elevated tracts, as at Jerusalem, except when
the south wind (sirocco) blows.
Fertility. The question as to the fertility of Palestine, so long agi¬
tated, has been satisfactorily set at rest by the investigations
of recent travellers. In the scarped rocks and ruined ter¬
race-walls that are everywhere seen in the hilly parts of the
country, and in the remains of aqueducts and other means of
artificial irrigation, we have ample evidence that the country
was formerly in the highest state of cultivation ; and wre find
that even now, with the present rude appliances of husbandry,
the land, where cultivated, produces abundant crops. All
travellers testify to the magnificence of the crops that are
raised in the country. In Dr Robinson’s works frequent
notice is taken of this subject. In one place he speaks of the
heavy crops of wheat and barley reminding him of the rich
harvest he had seen a year before in Lincolnshire ; and in
another place he says that he passed through, in the north
of Galilee, “ fields of wheat of the most luxuriant growth,
finer than which I had not before seen in this or any other
country.” (Later Researches.) “ No soil,” says Schubert,
“ could be naturally more fruitful and fit for cultivation
than that of Palestine, if man had not destroyed the source
of fertility by annihilating the former gteen covering of the
hills and slopes, and thereby destroying the regular circula¬
tion of sweet water, which ascends as vapour from the sea
to be cooled in the higher regions, and then descends to
form the springs and rivers; for it is well known that the
vegetable kingdom performs in this circulation the func¬
tion of capillary tubes. But although the natives, from
exasperation against their foreign conquerors and rulers
(Pliny, Hist. Nat. xii. 54), and the invaders who have so
often over-ruled this scene of ancient blessings, have greatly
reduced its prosperity, still I cannot comprehend how, not
only scoffers like Voltaire, but early travellers, who doubtless
intended to declare the truth, represent Palestine as a natural
desert, whose soil never could have been fit for profitable
cultivation. Whoever has seen the exhaustless abundance
of plants on Carmel and the border of the desert, the grassy
carpet of Esdraelon, the lawns adjoining the Jordan, and
the rich foliage of the forests of Mount Tabor—whoever
has seen the borders of the lakes of Merom and Gennesa-
reth, wanting only the cultivator to entrust to the soil his
seed and plants,—may state what other country on earth,
devastated by two thousand years of warfare and spolia¬
tion, could be more fit for being again taken into culti¬
vation.”
The vegetable productions of Palestine, owing to the
diversified nature of the surface and climate, are consider- Palestine,
ably varied in their character. The trees, however, are
almost all of small size, and extensive forests are unknown. produc-
The stately cedars of Lebanon, so often mentioned in Scrip- tions.
ture, were not, properly speaking, trees of Palestine. They
were always confined to the Lebanon range, and at present
they are only to be found in one small hollow on its north¬
western slope. They are from 60 to 80 feet in height,
with wide - spreading branches, and a trunk sometimes
nearly 40 feet in circumference. The olive, the fig, and
the pomegranate are the common trees of the country;
but they are all so small as scarcely to attract the eye of
the spectator till he is in the midst of them. The olive,
which was, and still continues to be, the principal tree of
Palestine, rarely rises to the height of more than 20 or 30
feet, but its branches are numerous and widely extended.
It was an object of special culture by the Jews, on account
of the valuable oil obtained from it. The fig tree was also
extensively cultivated, and plantations of it still sometimes
cover large tracts of country. The pomegranate was largely
cultivated in the gardens and orchards of Palestine, and is
frequently referred to in Scripture. It is a thick bushy
tree, with thorny twigs, and rises to the height of about 20
feet. The palm tree, which in Scripture times was so com¬
mon in Palestine, is now rarely to be seen. “ Two or
three in the garden of Jerusalem, some few perhaps at
Nablous, one or two in the plain of Esdraelon, comprise
nearly all the instances of the palm in Central Palestine.”
(Stanley.) It is still, however, not uncommon on the mari¬
time plains. The terebinth, or turpentine tree, is one of the
most common of the forest trees, though the name does
not occur in our English Bibles. It is supposed to be that
indicated by the Hebrew word which is variously
rendered in our version, oak, plain, teil tree, &c. The oak,
indeed, is found in Palestine, but the name occurs more
frequently in our version than in the original, and suggests
the idea, that it was much more common and conspicuous
in Palestine than it really was. There are several species
of this tree to be found, but they are all of small size.
It is still abundant in Bashan, remarkable for its size among
the trees of Palestine. Among the other trees of Palestine
may be mentioned the sycamore, mulberry, pine, pistachio,
laurel, cypress, myrtle, almond, apricot, walnut, apple, pear,
orange, lemon, &c.
The vine appears to have been cultivated in all parts of
Palestine, probably with the exception of the low and hot
valley of the Jordan. The hilly country of the north, and
the elevated region of Judea, were, however, its chief seats.
Hebron, according to the Jewish tradition, w as the primeval
seat of the vine ; and at present the grapes of Hebron are
the finest in Palestine. The region around this town
abounds with vineyards, which frequently rise in succes¬
sive terraces on the hill-sides. Each has still its round or
square watch-tower of stone, from 10 to 15 or 20 feet high,
in which keepers are stationed to protect the fruit from
injury or pillage during the season of the vine. Grapes
may always be had after June, but the regular vintage does
not begin until the middle of September, and is not over
everywhere until the middle of November.
Though deficient in trees, Palestine abounds with shrubs
and wild flowers; indeed, the number of aromatic shrubs
and fragrant flowers that are everywhere to be met with has
been a subject of general remark among travellers. “ My
report,” says Schubert, “ would become a volume were
I to enumerate the plants and flowers which the season
exhibited to our view, for whoever follows the compara¬
tively short course of the Jordan from the Dead Sea north¬
ward along the borders of Gennesareth and Merom, and
onward to the utmost springs in Anti-Libanus, traverses in
a few days climates, zones, and observes varieties of plants,
PALESTINE.
191
Palestine, which are in other countries separated by hundreds of
miles Whoever desires views, really extensive
and beautiful, of lilies, tulips, hyacinths, and narcissuses,
must, in the spring season, visit the districts through which
we passed, where even the garlic assumes a size and beauty
which might render it worthy of becoming an ornamental
plant in our gardens.” Among this profusion of wild
flowers there is a peculiar blaze of scarlet imparted to the
landscape by the prevalence of red flowers, chiefly ane¬
mones, wild tulips, and poppies. “ Of all the ordinary
aspects of the country, this blaze of scarlet colour is per¬
haps the most peculiar; and to those who first enter the
Holy Land it is no wonder that it has suggested the
touching and significant name of ‘ the Saviour’s blood-
drops.’” (Stanley.)
In the time of the patriarchs, and when first occupied by
the children of Israel, Palestine was a pastoral country. As
the people became settled and increased in numbers, agri¬
culture came in for a share of attention, and the flocks and
herds were sent to the wildernesses and other places not
suited for cultivation ; but throughout at least Old Testa¬
ment times we have abundant evidence that pasturage
continued to be a favourite and a principal pursuit with the
Jew'ish people. Hence the frequent allusions that occur
in Scripture to pastoral life. The plains and valleys every¬
where abound with the most luxuriant pastures, and even
the hilly portions, where vegetation is more scant, are w'ell
adapted for the numerous flocks of sheep and goats which
still constitute the chief wealth of the people. Most of the
present inhabitants, like the early settlers, are nomadic,
wandering about from place to place with their flocks as
the season or the state of the herbage demand. In sum¬
mer, when the plains are parched with drought and every
green herb is dried up, they proceed to the mountains or
banks of the rivers; and in winter and spring, when the
rains have re-clothed the plains with verdure and filled the
water-courses, they return.
The chief of the agricultural productions are wheat and
barley, of which the country, as already mentioned, yields
most abundant crops. Maize and rye are also common,
and rice is produced on the marshy borders of Lake
Huleh and upper parts of the Jordan. Pease and beans
of several species are grown, and in some parts the potato
has been introduced. Hemp is more commonly grown
than flax; and in favourable localities cotton is largely cul¬
tivated. Among the other productions are madder, indigo,
and tobacco ; and in some places the sugar-cane is culti¬
vated to a small extent. In the hill country the season of
harvest is later than in the plains of the Jordan and of the
sea-coast. In the plain of the Jordan, the wheat harvest is
early in May; in the plains of the coast and of Esdraelon,
it is towards the latter end of that month; and in the hills,
not until June. The barley harvest is about a fortnight
earlier than that of wheat.
Palestine in ancient times was distinguished for the
abundance of its cattle, including sheep, goats, camels, and
asses; and these, though now much diminished in numbers,
still constitute a principal part of the wealth of the inhabi¬
tants. Herds of black cattle are now rarely to be seen,
though they would seem to have been common in ancient
times. This no doubt arises from the heavy and unscru¬
pulous exactions of the government, from whose notice
wealth, in the shape of animals so large, could not easily be
concealed or withdrawn. The ox in the neighbourhood
of Jerusalem is small and unsightly, but on the Upper
inimals.
Jordan, especially to the east of that river, and in the vi- Palestine,
cinity of Tabor and Nazareth, it thrives better and is more i
common. The bulls of Bashan are frequently alluded to
in Scripture as being particularly strong and ferocious.
The buffalo is met with in various parts,—on the coast it
is equal in size and strength to those of Egypt. Sheep and
goats are still to be seen in great numbers in all parts of
the country. Their flesh and milk serve for daily food,
and their wool and hair for clothing. Mutton is, and al¬
ways has been, the principal animal food used in the East;
beef or veal is now but rarely eaten, though it seems to
have been made use of by the ancient Israelites to a con¬
siderable extent. The sheep of Palestine are all of that
species which is characterized by an enormously large tail,
chiefly composed of fat. They are horned, and commonly
white,—black ones are very rare. There are two species or
varieties of the goat; one differing little from the common
species, the other considerably larger in size, with long,
hanging ears, and in the head and horns very much re¬
sembling a ram. The latter is furnished with hair of con¬
siderable fineness, but seemingly not so fine as that of the
same species in Asia Minor. The “ wild goats” mentioned
in Scripture were probably the ibex and the kebsch, both
of which are still found in the mountains of Palestine. The
latter is also called the wild sheep, though it bears little
resemblance to that animal, and is chiefly distinguished by
a long pendant mane about its throat and the upper part
of its fore-legs. The milk of goats was by the Jews more
esteemed than that of any other animal, and the flesh was
in high favour, especially that of kids. Camels are still, as
they were in Scripture times, the principal beasts of burden
in Palestine, the roads being few and not suited for carts
or carriages.1 It is an animal that is invaluable to the
wandering Arab tribes, and is used both for carrying bur¬
dens and for riding. The flesh was forbidden to the ancient
Jews, but is eaten by the Arabs, and the milk is muoh
used. The horse was not much made use of by the an¬
cient Israelites, and the rearing of it was discouraged by
law. It was chiefly employed in warlike enterprises and
for state purposes. The horses of Egypt are the earliest
mentioned, and that country was always famous for them.
The horse at present is not a common animal in Palestine,
although some fine animals of the high Arabian breed are
not unfrequently seen. The ass was more commonly used
by the Jews than the horse, and frequently persons of the
first consequence rode on it. It was also employed to carry
burdens and in labours of the field, but was prohibited from
ploughing in the same field with the ox. The ass in the
East, when properly trained and cared for, is an active and
docile animal; and hence the term is used in Scripture in
a laudatory sense. Wild asses are often named in Scrip¬
ture, but they are not now to be found in Palestine, though
they are still to be seen in Mesopotamia and farther east.
They are of an elegant figure, and of great swiftness, roam¬
ing in herds in desert places far from the abodes of men.
Mules are first mentioned in the time of David, but were
probably known much earlier. They do not seem to have
become very common. Asses and mules are at present
much used for riding, as they afford a means of locomotion
well suited to the difficult mountain paths of the country.
Among the wild animals, the lion, though not uncommon
in ancient times, seems to be now extinct in the country.
Bears, however, are still to be met w ith among the moun¬
tains. Boars are often observed upon Mount Tabor and
the woody slopes of Mount Carmel, and from thence they
1 “ Roads for wheeled vehicles are now unknown in any part of Palestine; and in the earlier history they are very rarely mentioned.
As a general means of communication, the ‘chariots’ of Jehu and of Ahab are only described as driven along the plain of Esdraelon.
Under the Romans, indeed, the same astonishing genius for road -making which carried the Via Flaminia through the Apennines, and
has left traces of itself in the narrow passes of the Scironian rocks, may have increased the facilities of communication in Palestine ;
and hence, perhaps, the mention of the chariot road through the pass from Jerusalem to Gaza, where the Ethiopian met Philip. But
under ordinary circumstances, they must have always been more or less impracticable in the mountain ranges.” (Stanley.)
192
PALESTINE.
Palestine, frequently descend into the plains of Acre and Esdraelon.
v<—‘v—^ Jackals are common, and are very destructive to the flocks.
The hyaena is found chiefly in the valley of the Jordan,
and in the mountains around the Lake of Tiberias, but it is
also occasionally seen in other districts of Palestine. The
panther is found among the mountains of Central Pales¬
tine. Wolves and foxes are common. The gazelle or
antelope is often seen in flocks bounding over the grassy
plains, and is hunted by the Arabs. Among the rest may
be mentioned porcupines, hedgehogs, hares, conies, jerboas
hares, rats, mice, and moles. The conies, “ a feeble folk”
who “ make their houses in the rocks,” have been identified
with the wubar, an animal characterized by the liveliness
of its motions and the quickness of its retreat within the
rocks when danger is apprehended. Except in the head,
it very much resembles a rabbit, but is of a stronger build
and of duskier colour, being of a dark brown. “ It is en¬
tirely destitute of a tail, and has some bristles at its mouth,
over its head, and down its back, along the course of which
there are traces of light and dark shade. In its short ears,
small, black, and naked feet, and pointed snout, it resembles
the hedgehog.” (Wilson.)
The birds of Palestine are not numerous. “ In no
region,” says Dr Wilson, “ in which we had before travelled
had we seen so few of the feathered race as in the Holy
Land.” The number of distinct species, however, is con¬
siderable. Among the more important or better known
may be noticed,—the vulture, eagle, osprey, roller, ostrich,
kite, hawk, crow, owl, golden oriole, cuckoo, bee-eater,
kingfisher, woodpecker, woodcock, partridge, spoonbill,
stork, heron, pelican, swan, goose, duck, and quail. The
katta, a bird much more common than this last, and about
the size of a partridge, is supposed to be the quail of Scrip¬
ture. There are no serpents of large size, and it seems to
be doubtful if there be any of a venomous nature found in
Palestine. Scorpions hold a principal place among the
noxious animals ; and mosquitoes are common. Bees are
extremely common in this “ land of honey,” and deposit
their honey in trees and crevices of the rocks. Occa¬
sionally the country is visited by immense swarms of locusts,
which consume grass, foliage, and every species of vegeta¬
tion. Beetles are abundant, and of various species; and
mosquitoes are rather common.
The principal towns of Palestine will be found noticed
under their respective names in other parts of this work;
and an account of the present inhabitants will be given
under Syria, of which country Palestine is now only a
division.
Divisions. The earliest inhabitants of Palestine were known by the
general name of Canaanites, being descended from Canaan,
the youngest son of Ham. By them the country was thinly
peopled in the time of Abraham; and they were divided
into several distinct nations. These nations were,—the
Kenites, the Kenizzites, the Kadmonites, and the Gergash-
ites, who dwelt to the E. of the Jordan and the Lake of
Gennesareth; the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Jebusites,
and the Amorites, who occupied the hilly region in the S.;
the Canaanites, properly so called, who dwelt in the middle
of the country ; and the Hivites, who inhabited the extreme
N., among the southern branches of Lebanon; while the
Phoenicians occupied the northern, and the Philistines the
southern part of the coast. In the time of Moses the
nations W. of the Jordan seem to have occupied the same
positions as before ; but the eastern region was divided into
three large territories,—Bashan in the N., Gilead in the
centre, and in the S. the land called the Plains of Moab,
a part of the territory of the Moabites which had been
conquered from them by the Amorites. After the conquest
of Palestine by the Israelites under Joshua, the country
was divided among the twelve tribes, by whose names the
various portions were subsequently known,—Judah, Ben- Palestine,
jamin, Simeon, and Dan inhabiting the southern portion ;
Ephraim, the half tribe of Manasseh, and Issachar, the cen¬
tral ; Zebulon, Naphtali, and Asher, the northern ; and Reu¬
ben, Gad, and the remaining half of Manasseh, the country
E. of the Jordan. Palestine was afterwards divided into the
two kingdoms of Israel and Judah ; the latter including the
tribes of Judah and Benjamin, and the former the other ten.
In the time of our Saviour, Palestine was divided into the
following provinces:—Galilee, in the N., consisting of Upper
or Northern, and Lower or Southern Galilee ; Samaria in the
centre; and Judea in the S. of Palestine proper; while,
on the E. of the Jordan, Persea was subdivided into eight
smaller districts.
The earliest event in connection with Palestine recorded in History,
sacred history is the arrival in the country of Abraham, who, along
with Lot, his nephew, migrated hither at the Divine command from
Mesopotamia in the year 1921 B.C. The following year a famine
in Canaan compelled Abraham to remove into Egypt, but he soon after
returned; and finding the pastures insufficient for the large flocks
and herds of himself and Lot, he separated from his nephew, w'ho
settled in Sodom, while Abraham himself took up his abode in the
valley of Mamre, near Hebron. Previous to the arrival of Abra¬
ham in Canaan, Chedorlaomer, who is called in the Bible, King of
Elam or Elymais, a part of Persia, and who is said by Josephus to
have been a vassal of the Assyrian empire, extended his conquests
beyond the Euphrates, and reduced into subjection five of the petty
kings or chiefs who lived in the valley S. of the Dead Sea. After
twelve years of submission, and about eight years after the coming of
Abraham, these five chieftains rebelled against Chedorlaomer, who
in the next year (1912 B.C.) invaded the country with three other
monarchs, and after defeating the rebels in a pitched battle, retired,
carrying with him from Sodom and Gomorrah large quantities of
booty and many captives, among whom was Lot. Abraham, hearing
of this disaster, armed all his followers, to the number of 318, and
pursued the retreating army. He overtook them near the source
of the Jordan, fell upon them by night, and totally defeated them,
rescuing his nephew and the rest of the captives along with their
goods.
The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah took place in the year
1897 B.C., when, on account of the wickedness of these cities, God
rained brimstone and fire from heaven upon them, by which they
were entirely destroyed. The only persons who escaped from this
catastrophe were Lot and his two daughters. After Abraham’s
death, Isaac became the head of the patriarchal family, and he seems
to have resided all his life in the Promised Land. The only event
of historical importance that is recorded in his days is the covenant
he made with Abimelech, King of the Philistines, a successor of the
monarch of the same name with whom his father had entered into
a similar alliance. In 1759 B.C., Jacob, Isaac’s younger son, obliged
to leave the country on account of the resentment of his brother
Esau, took refuge in Mesopotamia with his uncle Laban. There he
remained for twenty years in the capacity of servant, receiving in
marriage Laban’s two daughters, Leah and Rachel, as the price of the
first fourteen years, and large flocks of sheep and goats, which con¬
stituted the principal riches of those days, for the remaining period
of his service. At last, in the year 1739 B.C., Jacob returned to
Canaan with his wives, the eleven sons that had been born to him
in his exile, and his flocks. On his way to that country, Jacob was
reconciled to his brother Esau, who had established himself as a
powerful prince in the mountains of Seir, the country afterwards
occupied by the Edomites, his descendants. In 1728 B.C., Joseph,
the favourite son of Jacob, was by his brethren sold to a company
of Ishmaelites and Midianites, and carried down to Egypt, where
he was re-sold to Potiphar, one of the chief officers of the king. On
account of a false accusation by his mistress, he was thrown into
prison, where he remained for some time. Having, however, in¬
terpreted two dreams of the king, and thereby foretold seven years
of plenty and seven years of famine, he was raised by the king to
the highest authority. During the seven plentiful years he stored
up the corn in granaries, so that when the famine came there was
still corn in Egypt. Jacob sent down his sons to Egypt for corn,
but they knew not their brother Joseph. On their second visit, he
made himself known to them, and invited Jacob his father, and all
his household, to come into Egypt. This invitation was complied
with ; and in 1706 B.C. the whole patriarchal family, to the number
of 76, removed to Egypt, and settled in the land of Goshen. The
people while in Egypt rapidly increased in numbers, and continued
unmolested until the rise of a new dynasty in that country. The
monarch, alarmed at the rapid growth of an alien people in his
dominions, took measures to prevent, if possible, their increase, by
PALESTINE.
193
Palestine, reducing them to the condition of slaves, and destroying all their
. / male children. A deliverer was, however, at length raised up for
v ^ the people in the person of Moses, who, when he could be no longer
concealed by his mother, was committed to the river in a basket
of bulrushes, and being discovered by the king’s daughter, was
adopted by her, and brought up at the Egyptian court. But in the
year 1531 B.C. Moses, then forty years old, espoused the cause of
his oppressed countrymen, and was compelled to leave Egypt. He
took refuge among the Midianites, near the eastern arm of the Red
Sea, and remained there as a shepherd for 40 years. At the end
of that time, he, along with his brother Aaron, was divinely com¬
missioned to deliver the Israelites out of Egypt. This deliverance
was effected in the year 1491 B.C. by means of the ten plagues with
which the Egyptians were afflicted, and which compelled them at
last to let the Israelites go.
When they took their departure from Egypt, Moses was their
ruler and their guide. He led them through the wilderness, where
they were fed by the miraculous interposition of heaven; and
through him their Divine Legislator gave them laws and statutes.
But the burden of his office being too great for him, the judicial
duties were divided; all lesser causes being, by the advice of his
father-in-law, referred to the rulers of thousands, of hundreds, of
fifties, and of tens, while those only of greater moment were sub¬
mitted to the chief judge. Moses was succeeded in his office by
Joshua, under whom the Israelites obtained possession of the land of
Canaan, which was partitioned by lot among the different tribes, and
again subdivided among the families of the same tribe. The land was
declared inalienable, and the perpetual inheritance of the families
to whom it was originally assigned ; and accordingly, every fiftieth
year, which was proclaimed to be a year of jubilee, all debts and
mortgages on land were declared to be cancelled, and every man
was to return into his own land. Other laws were passed for en¬
forcing the purity of divine worship and of moral conduct; for
equity in the transactions between man and man ; and also for the
punishment of idolatry and other iniquities; for it was the peculiar
distinction of this community, that the law took cognisance not
only of offences against society, but of every breach of the Divine
commands. The order of the priesthood was also instituted in the
family of Levi, gifts and sacrifices were offered by them in ex¬
piation of sin, and various acts were enumerated by which the
children of Israel became unclean, and which, though innocent in
themselves, were yet employed to point out the great defilement of
sin, and for which, therefore, certain modes of purification were
appointed. The distinction was also laid down between clean and
unclean animals, from the latter of which the people were command¬
ed to abstain. An enumeration was made in the plains of Moab of
all the males of the children of Israel above twenty years of age,
and the sum of them is given at 601,730 ; the Levites, who were
not mentioned among the rest, amounted to 23,000 ; which makes
the sum of 624,700 males above twenty years of age. The total
population must therefore at that time have been about 2,500,000.
The Israelites, after their settlement in the land of Canaan, were
involved in wars with the surrounding states, and were often
given into their hands on account of disobedience. The land was
in this manner frequently wasted, and the happiness of the people
interrupted, by the inroads of their neighbours. From these ene¬
mies they were saved by deliverers called judges, raised up to them,
under whose peaceful sway the land enjoyed long intervals of rest.
But during the old age of Samuel, the last of the judges, in
consequence of the misconduct of his sons and the unsettled state
of the country, the people were dissatisfied, and entreated, against
the solemn protest of this aged prophet, that they might have a
king, like the nations around them; and Samuel was desired to
hearken to their request. Saul was accordingly (1095) chosen king;
but, on account of his disobedience, the kingdom was rent from him,
and given to David; and he terminated his fatal course in a dis¬
astrous defeat on the mountains of Gilboa, in which he and his son
Jonathan were slain. David ascended the throne of Judah in
1055, but Ishbosheth, a son of Saul, reigned for seven years over
the other tribes. The latter being murdered in 1048, David became
king of the whole country without dispute, and commenced a pro¬
sperous reign, in the course of which he subdued all his enemies.
Although the peace of the country was disturbed by the domestic
treason of Absalom, yet David left a flourishing kingdom to his
successor Solomon, under whose reign (1015-975) the kingdom was
enlarged on every side, and became one of the most flourishing
empires of Asia, extending on the east as far as the Euphrates, and
possessing ports both on the Mediterranean and on the Red Sea.
David was a man of war, but Solomon was devoted to peace ; and
accordingly, during his reign was constructed that magnificent
temple at Jerusalem which was the wonder of future ages.
After the death of Solomon, the kingdom was divided into two
sovereignties.. The tyrannical conduct of Rehoboam, in which he
persisted, against the advice of his aged councillors, gave rise to
VOL. XVII.
the revolt of the ten tribes, who chose Jeroboam for their king;
and thus began that division of the empire which paved the way
for its dowmfall under the successive attacks of its enemies. The
kingdoms of Israel and Judah were hereafter ruled by different
monarchs, who no longer joined against their common enemies,
but waged war against each other; and, in place of the union that
might have been expected in the descendants from a common stock,
they regarded each other with all the aversion of aliens. In the
meantime, the powerful empires of Assyria and Babylon in the E.,
and of Egypt in the S., were contending with each other for the
dominion of the world ; their vast armies frequently threatened
the destruction of the comparatively petty states of Judea; and
at length, in the reign of Hoshea, 721 years before the Christian
era, Samaria, the capital of the kingdom of Israel, was taken by
the King of Assyria, the land conquered, and the whole nation
carried into captivity.
We subjoin a list of the kings who reigned in Samaria, with the
length of their several reigns, and the period when they reigned :—
B.C.
1. Jeroboam 1 21 yrs. 975
2. Nabab  14 „ 954
3. Baasha 23 ,, 953
4. Elah  1 „ 930
5. Zimri  7days929
6. Omri 11 yrs. 929
7. Ahab 21 „ 918
8. Ahaziah   1 „ 897
9. Jehoram 12 „ 896
10. Jehu 28 „ 884
11. Jehoahaz 17 „ 856
12. Jehoash 16 „ 839
B.C.
13. Jeroboam II 41 yrs. 823
1st Interregnum 11 ,, 782
14. Zachariah  6mos. 771
15. Shallum  1 „ 771
16. Menahem 10 yrs. 770
17. Pekahiah  2 „ 760
18. Pekah 20 „ 758
2d Interregnum 10 „ 738
19. Hoshea  7 „ 728
Samaria taken 254 „ 721
Palestine.
The kingdom of Judah, weakened by the loss of the ten tribes,
was afterwards assailed by the King of Babylon ; and was at length
brought to an end by Nebuchadnezzar in 588 B.C. Jerusalem was
taken and destroyed along with the temple, and the king, the princes,
and most of the people of Judah were carried away to Babylon.
The following is the line of kings who reigned in Jerusalem from
the death of Solomon to the destruction of the first temple :—
B.C.
1. Rehoboam 17 yrs. 975
2. Abijah  3 „ 958
3. Asa 41 „ 955
4. Jehoshaphat 25 „ 914
5. Jehoram or Joram 4 ,, 889
6. Ahaziah  1 „ 885
7. Queen Athaliah... 6 ,, 884
8. Joash or Jehoash..40 „ 878
9. Amaziah 29 „ 838
10. UzziahorAzariah52 ,, 809
11. Jotham 16 „ 757
12. Ahaz 16 „ 741
13. Hezekiah 
14. Manasseh 
15. Amon 
16. Josiah 
17. Jehoahaz  
18. Jehoiakim 
19. Coniah or Je- 1
hoiachin... J
20. Zedekiah 
B.C.
.27 yrs. 725
.55 „ 698
. 2 „ 643
.31 „ 641
. 3 mos.
.11 yrs. 610
3 mos.
,11 yrs. 598
Jerusalem taken 387 „ 588
Seventy years were appointed as the term of the Jewish captivity,
in the course of which the empire of Babylon was overthrown by
Cyrus the king of Persia, in whose reign the Jews were encouraged
to rebuild their city, and to return to their own land. Zerubbabel,
Ezra, and Nehemiah, were the successive leaders that presided over
the restoration of the Jewish kingdom. After many interruptions
from the jealousy of their powerful enemies, the second temple
was at length reared. But it was so inferior in magnificence and
splendour to that of Solomon, that the aged men wept when they
contrasted this modern structure with the glory of the first house.
The Jews were now ruled by the Persian king and his lieutenants
in civil though not in sacred things, which were regulated by the
law of Moses as administered by their own high priests ; and they
enjoyed for a period of nearly two centuries the blessings of a
settled government. After the conquest of Persia by Alexander,
and the division of his kingdom among his successors, Asia was dis¬
tracted by new wars among those rivals for the supreme dominion,
and the Jews often embarrassed by these contentions, owed their
independence rather to the forbearance of their enemies than to
their own strength. At length, however, Antiochus Epiphanes,
who ascended the throne of Syria in 175 B.C., having heard of
insurrections among them, invaded their territory with a powerful
army, and besieged and took Jerusalem while it was yet unpre¬
pared for defence. He wreaked his vengeance on the unhappy
Jews, 4000 of whom were put to death, and an equal number re¬
duced to slavery. The temple was plundered of all its treasures
and sacred utensils, and an unclean animal, a sow, was offered by
his orders on the altar of burnt-offerings. The Jewish nation was
at the same time cruelly persecuted; an edict was issued for the
extermination of the whole race; and in furtherance of this bar¬
barous policy, Apollonius, the commander of the troops, when the
people had assembled in Jerusalem on the Sabbath, made a furious
2 B
194
PALESTINE.
Palestine, attack with his troops on the peaceful multitude, whom he slaugh-
v tered without mercy, or carried into a hopeless captivity. The
v city was plundered, and set on fire in many places ; the walls were
broken down, and a strong fortress built on Mount Zion, which
commanded the temple and the adjacent parts. Having made
these preparations, he proceeded to farther persecutions against
the religion of the Jews. They were watched in their visits to the
holy sanctuary, and harassed by the troops ; the rite of circum¬
cision was prohibited; and a compliance with the heathen idola¬
tries was enforced at the point of the sword. They were compelled
to profane the Sabbath and to eat swine’s flesh. The holy temple
was violated by the worship of Jupiter, whose statue was erected
on the altar of burnt-otferings, and the licentious revels of the
Bacchanalia were substituted for the pure festivals of the Jewish
church. The rage of persecution spared neither age nor sex; and
all over the country torture and death were inflicted on the unhappy
persons who, remaining stedfast in their faith, refused to partici¬
pate in these heathenish rites.
Such unheard-of cruelties excited the deepest indignation, and
at length roused the nation to resistance. The heroic family of
the Maccabees, consisting of five brethren, the sons of Mattathias, a
priest of the race of Asmoneus, were the champions of the pa¬
triotic cause. They were all of renowned valour; and Judas
having headed the insurgents, a determined band only 6000 in
number, defeated the oppressors of his country in many great
battles, and restored its independence (165 B.C.) But he had to
contend against domestic treason as well as foreign war. Alcimus,
who was in the interest of the Syrians, assuming the title of high
priest, claimed the allegiance of the Jews, and Judas was compelled
in self-defence to seek the alliance of the Romans, who eagerly
sought a pretence for interference in the affairs of their neigh¬
bours. In the meantime, the Maccabee chief was slain in the field
of battle (161 B.C.), and was succeeded by his brother Jonathan,
who, employing his power in aiding Alexander Balas to obtain the
crown of Syria, was allowed by him in return to unite the spiritual
authority of the high priest with the temporal sway (153 B.C.) ;
and under this dynasty of the Asmonean princes Palestine was
• governed for more than a hundred years. Jonathan was succeeded
by his son Simon (143 B.C.), who secured the tranquillity of the
country by cultivating the friendship of Rome. He was cut off,
the victim of domestic treason ; and John Hyrcanus, his younger
son, ascended the throne (136 B.C.) His reign was prosperous and
successful. He not only threw off the Syrian yoke, but extended
his territories eastward and northward. He besieged and utterly
destroyed Samaria ; and thus gratified the vindictive spirit of the
Jews against the Samaritans. The short reign of Aristobulus, his
son, followed in 106 B.C. ; in the next year that of Alexander Jan-
naeus, whose oppressions excited a civil war in the country. The in¬
surgents, calling in the aid of the Syrians, became unpopular; and
Alexander, after many reverses, at last succeeded in collecting a
powerful army, with which he completely re-established his power,
and took vengeance on his enemies. He was succeeded in 78
B.C. by his son Hyrcanus the Second. His brother Aristobulus,
after secretly opposing him for some time, at length threw off the
mask, and openly aspired to the supreme power. The two com¬
petitors were preparing to appeal to arms, when the Romans under
Pompey, having subdued the greater part of Syria, were now called
into Palestine as peaceful arbiters in this dispute. Aristobulus,
however, being impatient, had recourse to arms, and shut himself
up in Jerusalem, which was invested in the year 63 B.c. by the
Roman general Gabinius, the lieutenant of Pompey, and carried by
assault with great slaughter. The authority of Hyrcanus was re¬
established, and Aristobulus was carried prisoner to Rome, whence
afterwards making his escape, he raised the standard of revolt in
Judea. But he had no force that could oppose the Roman armies
under Mark Antony, who speedily re-established the authority of
Rome in every part of the country. The rule of Judea was in
47 B.c. delegated to Antipater, the minister of Hyrcanus, who ap¬
pointed his two sons, Phasael and Herod, to be governors, the one
of Jerusalem, and the other of Galilee. But a new competitor ap¬
peared for the supreme authority in Judea, namely, a son of Aris¬
tobulus, who, having taken refuge among the Parthians, invaded
the country with a powerful army, and succeeded in obtaining the
kingdom. Phasael committed suicide, and Hyrcanus was deprived
of his ears and sent to Babylonia ; but Herod, the younger son of
Anti pater, escaped to Rome, where, through the influence of Antony,
he was made king of Judea (b.c. 40). Two years afterwards he
established himself on the throne, and thus put an end to the
Asmonean dynasty. He employed himself in works of architecture,
particularly in the repair of the temple, by which he hoped to
obtain favour among the Jews. It was in his reign that the Mes¬
siah was born, and it was from his cruelty that he fled into Egypt.
On his death, in the year 4 A.D., he bequeathed his dominions to
his three sons: to Archelaus the government of Idumea, Samaria,
and Judea; to Antipas that of Peraea and Galilee; and to Philip Palestine,
that of Trachonitis, Gaulanitis, Batanea, and Paneas, lying partly v | _t t
beyond the limits of Palestine. Archelaus was soon after deprived
of his great office, on account of maladministration, and ban¬
ished into Gaul. Judea was now reduced to the condition of a
Roman province, under a governor who resided at Caesarea, but
who was subordinate to the prefect of Syria. One of these gover¬
nors was Pontius Pilate, under whose authority the Saviour was
crucified. The Jews were far from being a contented or happy
people under the Roman yoke. They were exposed to the severe
exactions of their delegated rulers, and to outrages and plunder by
the Roman soldiers stationed in the province to overawe the
people. Disturbances, provoked by these oppressions, and quelled
by the legionary troops, became the pretext for fresh cruelties;
and misery, disorder, and violence thus reigned throughout the
once happy land. The only portion of the country that enjoyed
comparative quiet was Galilee and the country beyond Jordan,
which was ruled by Antipas and Philip. In 38 A.D. Herod Agrippa
was appointed, by Caligula, king of Galilee and the country
beyond Jordan ; and in 41 B.C. he obtained from Claudius the rest
of the dominions of his grandfather, Herod the Great. His policy
was conciliatory towards the Jews; he respected their worship,
repaired and adorned the temple, and joined with them in their
persecution of the new sect of Christians, having put to death the
apostle James. His miserable end, being eaten of worms, is re¬
lated in the Acts of the Apostles. His son Agrippa succeeded
him, hut after his death Judea was again governed by Roman pro¬
curators. The discontent of the Jews, their impatience of the Ro¬
man yoke, their proneness to insurrection under the vain predic¬
tions of their soothsayers, that a conquering Messiah was to arise,
who should restore the independence and glory of their country,
afforded too fair a pretence for the severities of their rulers. The
country abounded in scenes of rapine and anarchy ; the national
faith and the holiest rites were despised and trampled upon ; and
at length, under the administration of Florus, the people flew to
arms, and entered on their last and desperate conflict with the
Roman power. The insurrection broke out (in the year 65 A.D.)
at Caesarea, the inhabitants of which, galled by cruel insults, de¬
clared their determination to resist to the last extremity. The
Jews in Jerusalem shared in this heroic determination, and made
preparations for defence. Cestus, the prefect of Syria, advanced
to the gates and demanded an entrance for the Roman troops. The
Romans were, however, on this occasion defeated with great
slaughter, and lost all their artillery.
The intelligence of these disasters excited the indignation of
Nero, who sent Vespasian, a man of tried valour and experience,
to assume the government of Syria, and to calm the troubles of
that distracted province. He entered Judea about the year 67,
along with his son, the renowned Titus, to whom was committed
the conduct of the war. Many sanguinary battles were now fought
between the contending armies, in which the tumultuary levies of
the Jews were broken and dispersed by the veteran legions of
Rome; towns and fortresses were successively taken; and the
Jews, no longer able to face the enemy in the field, were driven
within the walls of their capital, to which Titus at length laid
siege. The defence was obstinate, and the besiegers were brave
and numerous, employing all the resources of the military art in
their attack on the devoted city. In the course of this protracted
siege partial successes were obtained by the Jews, who fought
bravely, and harassed the besiegers by frequent and successful
sallies. But the defences of the city, strong both by nature and
art, gradually gave way before the perseverance and skill of the
Roman troops; and as Titus proceeded partly by blockade, he shut
in the whole city with a wall, and the horrors of famine were
added to all the other miseries which the inhabitants suffered. It
would be endless to detail all the horrors of this protracted siege;
famine raged within the walls; every inch of ground was fiercely
disputed ; and prodigious numbers of men fell on both sides. But
the Romans made a steady progress. The city was not completely
in their hands till four months after the beginning of the siege;
and notwithstanding the wishes of Titus to save it, the temple was
consumed by fire. The inhabitants were everywhere put to the
sword, or made captives and sold for slaves. The number of Jews
who perished in the siege is estimated at 1,100,000, a far greater
population than the city usually contained; but the annual feast
of unleavened bread, which took place at this time, had crowded
it with a vast concourse of strangers from all quarters, who, by
the sudden approach of the hostile army, were shut up within the
walls. The destruction of the city took place in the year 70 A.D.
After the Roman armies were withdrawn from Jerusalem, many
of the Jews returned to dwell in the ruined city, though the Roman
emperor, indignant at the late rebellion, had placed a garrison of
800 troops on Mount Zion, in order to prevent any attempt to re¬
build the sacred capital. The Jews, however, were still discon-
PALESTINE.
195
Palestine, tented and rebellious; they still fondly believed that an earthly
Messiah was shortly to arise, to free them from bondage, and to
give them the dominion of the whole earth. They accordingly
listened to the tales of every impostor, and were easily seduced into
rebellion by vain hopes of national glory that were never realized.
In the course of these commotions great cruelties were committed;
but in the end the Jews were everywhere borne down by the disci¬
pline of the Roman legions, and paid the penalty of their rebellion
with their lives. By acts of mutual cruelty the animosity of both
parties was inflamed; the sword of persecution was let loose against
the Jewish religion by their conquerors; the rite of circumcision,
the reading of the law, and the observance of the Jewish Sabbath,
and all the other memorials of the national faith, were forbidden.
In the city of Jerusalem, which was to a certain extent repaired, a
colony of Greeks and Latins was established, in order to preclude
the return of the Jews, and all further hopes of the restoration of
their kingdom. But the policy of the Romans was of no avail
against the deep-rooted prejudices of this infatuated people ; and
no sooner had a new impostor arisen in 131, of the name of Barco-
chab, “ the son of a star,” than the deluded Israelites hailed him
as the light that was to dawn in the latter days, and usher in the
day of their long-expected rest. They accordingly crowded to his
standard ; and in a short time he had mustered a powerful army of
200,000 devoted followers. Owing to the absence of the Roman
legions, engaged at that time in distant service, important advan¬
tages were gained, and Jerusalem was again occupied by the insur¬
gent Jews, besides about fifty castles, and numbers of open towns.
But this career of success was speedily terminated by the arrival
of Severus, afterwards emperor, with a large and well-appointed
body of legionary troops; the Jews were overwhelmed by numbers,
discipline, and military skill; their cities were taken and destroyed ;
and Either, where the leader of the rebellion, Barcochab, had made
his last stand, was stormed with great slaughter, and himself slain.
Of the Jews it is estimated that 580,000 died on the field ; and the
remnant who escaped mostly perished by famine and disease, or
amid the flames of their ruined cities. Under these ruthless de¬
vastations the country was at last converted into a desert; the in¬
habitants were either slain or driven into exile • and the Divine
denunciations were now literally fulfilled against this misguided
people, that they should be scattered among all the nations of the
earth.
The victors having thus satiated their vengeance, began in due
time to relax their stern and intolerant policy. Under the mild
rule of Antoninus Pius, the Jews were restored to their ancient
privileges, to the freedom of worship, and to all their other na¬
tional rites. They were now mingled with the nations, and were
found dwelling in all parts of the Roman empire; and their
general condition at this time, as described by Gibbon, was not
unfavourable. “ The numerous remains,” says this eloquent his¬
torian, “ of that people, though they were excluded from the
precincts of Jerusalem, were permitted to form and to maintain
considerable establishments both in Italy and in the provinces, to
acquire the freedom of Rome, to enjoy municipal honours, and to
obtain at the same time an exemption from the burdensome and
expensive offices of society. The moderation or contempt of the
Romans gave a legal sanction to the form of ecclesiastical police
which was instituted by the vanquished sect. The patriarch, who
had fixed his residence at Tiberias, was empowered to appoint his
subordinate ministers and apostles to exercise a domestic jurisdic¬
tion, and to receive from his dispersed brethren an annual contri¬
bution. New synagogues were frequently erected in the principal
cities of the empire ; and the sabbaths, the fasts, and the festivals,
which were either commanded by the Mosaic law, or enjoined by
the traditions of the rabbis, were celebrated in the most solemn and
public manner. Such gentle treatment insensibly assuaged the
stern temper of the Jews. Awakened from their dream of pro¬
phecy and conquest, they assumed the behaviour of peaceable and
industrious subjects. Their irreconciled hatred of mankind, instead
of flowing out in acts of blood and violence, evaporated in less
dangerous gratifications. They embraced every opportunity of
overreaching the idolaters in trade; and they pronounced secret
and ambiguous imprecations against the haughty kingdom of
Edom.”. {Decline and Fall, vol. ii., chap, xvi.) This statement,
though it has received a colouring from the deep-rooted preju¬
dices of the author against the Jewish religion, is nevertheless
substantially true, and contains a just view of the condition of
the Jews throughout the Roman empire. No great change ap¬
pears to have taken place in the condition of Palestine until
Constantine ascended the imperial throne in the year 306. He
was, as is well known, the first Christian emperor; and under his
powerful patronage, and that of his mother the Empress Helena,
splendid structures were everywhere erected in the Holy Land in
honour of the Christian faith. The land was gradually overspread
with memorials of Christianity ; and chapels, altars, and houses of
prayer marked every spot said to be memorable for any of the Palestine,
sayings or doings of the Saviour. The Jews beheld with indigna¬
tion the rise of these Christian monuments within the precincts of
the holy city, since they were as much opposed to the Christian
worship as to the heathen idolatry. But their influence was now
at an end. Scattered in distant parts, they could no longer act
with consistency or vigour; yet so attached were they to their
own ancient rites, that, however faint the chance of success, they
were ready in crowds to rally round the standard of their ancient
faith wherever it wms displayed, and to follow any daring leader
into the field. But the time was past. Jerusalem was now filled
with the emblems of a new faith, and crowds of pilgrims were at¬
tracted from the most distant countries by the eager desire of con¬
templating the place of the Redeemer’s passion, and of the previous
incidents of his life. These visits were encouraged from various
motives. They evinced, no doubt, the zeal of the new converts;
and being at once a proof of piety and a source of profit, they were
encouraged by the clergy of Jerusalem.
The reign of Julian (361-363) was a new era in the history of
Palestine ; and the Jews anticipated, from his declared enmity to
Christianity, his favour for their own faith. The policy of this
heathen emperor countenanced them in this belief, when he en¬
deavoured, by rebuilding the temple of Jerusalem in its former
splendour, to discredit the truth of those prophecies which de¬
nounced perpetual desolation on the devoted city. He chose the
commanding eminence of Mount Moriah for the site of a new struc¬
ture, which was to eclipse the splendour of the Christian church
on the adjacent hill of Calvary; and he resolved to establish a
J ewish order of priests, who might revive the observance of the Mo¬
saic rites, together with as numerous a colony of Jews as could be
collected, in the holy city. Such was still the ardour of the na¬
tional faith that the Jews crowded from all parts, and exasperated
by their insolent triumph the hostility of the Christian inhabitants.
All now joined with unwearied zeal in the sacred work of rebuild¬
ing the temple. Liberal contributions poured in from all quarters ;
men and women joined in the labour; and the authority of the
monarch was seconded by the enthusiasm of the people. But this
last effort of expiring zeal was unsuccessful; no temple ever arose
on the ruins of the heathen edifices ; and the progress of the work,
according to a story generally believed at the time, was stopped by
the interposition of heaven, by flames of fire bursting out from the
foundations with loud explosions, by which the workmen were so
terrified that they refused to continue their labour. The attempt,
from whatever cause, was abandoned; and as it was only under¬
taken during the last six months of Julian’s reign, the fact seems
sufficiently explained, without the aid of a miracle, by the absence
and death of the emperor, and by the new maxims that were adopted
during the Christian reign that succeeded.
After the death of Julian it was the policy of the Christian em¬
perors to depress the Jews in Palestine, though they were not ill
treated throughout the provinces, and were even granted con¬
siderable privileges and immunities. But it is astonishing how
carefully the fathers instilled into the minds of their children,
along with their ancient faith, the fondly-cherished delusion, that
some new and happier era of freedom and independence was yet to
dawn on Judea; and how eagerly the children, imbibing this idea,
became the prey of every impostor, and, under the blind impulse of
enthusiasm, rashly entered into new conflicts with their enemies in
the field, where they perished, the willing victims of a hopeless
cause. About the beginning of the seventh century the peace of
Judea was seriously disturbed by the Persian invasion of Chosroes.
The Greeks and the Persians were for a long period rivals for the
dominion of the East; and Chosroes, the grandson of Nushirvan, now
invading the Roman empire, successively stormed and sacked the
cities of Antioch and Caesarea in Cappadocia. From Syria the flood
of invasion rolled southward on Palestine, and the Persian army
was joined by the Jews to the number of 26,000, still burning with
the love of independence. Jerusalem was stormed by the combined
armies in 614, the city was sacked, and the magnificent monuments
of the Christian faith were mostly consumed by fire. But this, like
all the other triumphs of the Jews, was short-lived. Heraclius,
roused from inglorious sloth by the triumphs of the Persian arms,
and by the approach of the victorious force to the walls of his own
capital, quickly assembled his veteran armies, by whose aid he de¬
feated the troops of Chosroes in 622; and in the course of a few
successful campaigns he recovered all the provinces that had been
overrun. He visited Jerusalem after his victories, in the lowly
guise of a pilgrim, and prepared new triumphs for the Christians
in the restoration of the magnificent churches which had been de¬
stroyed, in the persecution of the Jews, and in their banishment,
as before, from the Holy City, which they were now forbidden to
approach within a distance of 3 miles.
Palestine continued to own the sway of the Greek emperor till
the rise of the Saracen power in the East. The followers of Mo-
i
196
Palestine,
PALESTINE.
hammed, extending their doctrines and their dominion hy fire and
sword, rapidly subdued Arabia, Syria, and Egypt, and in the year
637 turned their arms against Jerusalem. After a siege of four
months, during which the Arabs suffered extremely from the in¬
clemency of the winter, a capitulation was proposed and agreed to,
when the Caliph Omar entered the city seated on a red camel,
without guards, or any other precaution, and began to discourse in
the most courteous manner with the patriarch on its religious an¬
tiquities. Omar was assassinated in Jerusalem in the year 643,
after which the East was for 200 years distracted by the bloody
wars that ensued among the Ommiade, the Abbasside, and the
Eatimite caliphs; and Palestine having become an object of con¬
test between them, was for a like period a scene of devastation and
trouble. After the division of the Saracen dominions among these
three factions in the middle of the eighth century, Palestine re¬
mained under the power of the Abbasside caliphs of Bagdad until
969 A.D., when it was transferred to the Fatimite line in Egypt.
In 1076 Jerusalem was taken by the Turks, and held by them for
twenty years; but in 1096 the Egyptian caliphs regained their
power.
Jerusalem, though it was in the possession of infidel chiefs, was
still revered as a holy city both by Christian and Jew, and was
visited by pilgrims from every quarter; among others, by Peter the
Hermit, a native of Amiens. The pathetic tale which he brought
to Europe of the injuries and insults which the Christian pilgrims
suffered from the infidels who possessed and profaned the Holy City,
excited the deepest sympathy among the people and princes of
Christendom. Councils were summoned, and were attended by
ecclesiastics and laity. The mixed multitude were harangued by
the zealous enthusiasts of this sacred cause; their pity and indig¬
nation were alternately roused by the sufferings of their brethren in
the Holy Land; the flame of enthusiasm was propagated by sym¬
pathy and example; and the eager champions of the Cross, the
flower of the European chivalry, assembled in martial array to
march against the enemies of their common faith. To defray the
necessary expenses of the expedition, princes alienated their pro¬
vinces, the nobles their lands and castles, peasants their cattle and
the instruments of husbandry; and vast armies were transported
to Palestine, in order to accomplish the deliverance of the Holy
Sepulchre. These rude and undisciplined bands died in great num¬
bers on reaching the shores of Asia, from disease, famine, and
fatigue ; and of the first Crusaders it is estimated that 300,000 had
perished before a single city was rescued from the infidels. Of the
leaders in the Christian host, the first rank is due to Godfrey, Duke
of Brabant and Bouillon, who was accompanied by his two brothers,
Eustace the elder, who had succeeded to the county of Boulogne,
and Baldwin the younger. The other chiefs were Robert of France,
the brother of King Philip, and Robert, Duke of Normandy, the
son of William the Conqueror; Bohemond, the son of Robert Guis-
card, distinguished by his cool policy and ambition, with a small
addition of religious zeal; Tancred, his cousin, who had imbibed the
true spirit of chivalry, and all the virtues of a perfect knight; and
Raymond of Toulouse, the Duke of Narbonne and Marquis of Pro¬
vence, a veteran warrior of mature age and experience. The vast
armies that were collected under the guidance of these leaders ar¬
rived by various routes at Constantinople; and after some time spent
in the capital of the East, they crossed to the opposite shore of Asia.
Having taken the towns of Nice and Antioch in the year 1097, they
laid siege to Jerusalem about two years after, and took it by assault,
with a prodigious slaughter of the garrison and inhabitants, that
was continued for three days, without respect to age or sex.
Eight days after the capture of Jerusalem, the Latin chiefs pro¬
ceeded to the election of a king, who should preside over their con¬
quests in Palestine, and Godfrey of Bouillon was unanimously raised
to this high position. But if it was an honourable office, it was also
one of danger : he was not chosen to sway a peaceful sceptre ; and
he was summoned to the field in the first fortnight of his reign to
defend his capital against the Sultan of Egypt, who approached
with a powerful army. His signal victory in the battle of Ascalon
confirmed the stability of his throne, and enabled him to extend on
every side his kingdom, which consisted then only of Jerusalem
and Jaffa, with about twenty villages and towns of the adjacent dis¬
tricts. The fortified castles into which the Mohammedans had taken
refuge, and from which they made incursions into the open country,
were reduced ; the maritime cities of Laodicea, Tripoli, Tyre, and
Ascalon, were besieged and taken, and the Christian kingdom thus
included a range of sea-coast from Scanderoon to the borders of
Egypt. The feudal institutions of Europe were introduced into
this kingdom in all their purity; and a code of laws, called the
Assize of Jerusalem, was drawn up, which was attested by the seals
of the king, the patriarch, and the viscount of Jerusalem, and de¬
posited in the sepulchre of the Saviour, as an unerring guide in all
doubtful questions that might be brought before the tribunals of
Palestine.
Godfrey was succeeded in 1100 by his brother Baldwin, who Palestine,
ruled with vigour and success. In 1118 his cousin, Baldwin II., I ,
ascended the throne, and still maintained the interests of the king¬
dom. Melisandra, his daughter, married Foulques of Anjou, who in
right of his wife acquired the kingdom of Jerusalem. He lost his
life by a fall from his horse, after having reigned ten or twelve
years. His son, Baldwin III., ruled in Jerusalem twenty years ;
and his reign was remarkable as the era of the Second Crusade, and
of the rise of the various orders of knighthood,—the Hospitallers,
Templars, and Cavaliers.
The military force of the first Crusaders, wasted by fatigue and
by losses in the field, was no longer able to oppose the hosts of Turks
and Saracens by which it was surrounded. The first victories of
the Europeans, and their rapid success, extended far and wide the
terror of their arms. But this alarm having subsided, the Moham¬
medan chiefs collected their armies, and commenced a vigorous
attack on the European posts scattered over a wide extent of
country, and gained some important advantages. The accounts of
these disasters that were circulated in Europe excited the liveliest
sympathy of all Christians for their suffering brethren in the Holy
Land, for the defence of which the European princes now entered
into a new coalition. A second crusade was the consequence. It
wras undertaken in the year 1147, by the Emperor of Germany,
Conrad III., and Louis VII., King of France, and was even more un¬
fortunate than the first expedition. In the course of a tedious
march through an unhealthy and hostile country, more than half
the army of Conrad was wasted by famine and the sword, and not
above a tenth part ever reached the Syrian shore. The subsequent
battles with the Saracens reduced them to a miserable remnant;
and the emperor, on his return with his shattered forces from this
unfortunate campaign, was met by Louis and the French troops,
who arrived in better condition at the scene of action. The French
army, rashly advancing into the heart of the country, was assaulted
and overwhelmed by an innumerable host of Turks; and the king,
effecting his escape with great difficulty, finally took shipping
with his knights and nobles, leaving his plebeian infantry to the
sword of the victorious enemy. The two princes afterwards pro¬
ceeded to Jerusalem, united the poor remains of their once mighty
armies to the Latin troops in Syria, and laid a fruitless siege to
Damascus, which was the termination of the Second Crusade.
The defeat and dispersion of these armies tended greatly to
weaken the Christian cause in the Holy Land, and shake the foun¬
dations of the Latin throne at Jerusalem. Disputes also arose about
the succession to the throne, which exposed the kingdom still more
to the assaults of its enemies, with whom some of the discontented
barons entered into traitorous correspondence. In the midst of
these internal dissensions the kingdom of the Latins was assailed by
a new enemy, namely, the Sultan Saladin, who, to valour, policy,
and military skill, joined all the refined humanity of a Christian
knight. He had risen from a private station to the sovereignty of
Egypt, and had been for years extending his influence and his
dominions. Reginald of Chatillon, a soldier of fortune, had seized
a fortress, from which he issued with his followers to pillage the
caravans and to insult the Mohammedans, and he even threatened
the holy cities of Medina and Mecca. Saladin complained of
these injuries ; and being refused any satisfaction, invaded the
Holy Land in 1187 with an array of 80,000 horse and foot. He
advanced against Tiberias, to which he laid siege; and a de¬
cisive battle was hazarded by the King of Jerusalem in defence
of this important place. In the contest which ensued the Christians
were totally defeated, their king and many of the nobles taken
prisoners, and 30,000 soldiers slain or captured. This great vic¬
tory placed the whole country at the mercy of the conqueror. The
fate of the kingdom had been set on a single cast, and its whole
military force concentrated on this fatal field. The towns and
castles, deprived of their governors, fell successively before Sala-
din’s victorious force ; and scarcely had three months elapsed when
he appeared in arms before the gates of Jerusalem.
This city was in no condition to sustain a protracted siege, being
crowded with fugitives from every quarter, who here sought an
asylum from the destroying sword. A disorderly throng of 100,000
persons were confined within the walls, with but few soldiers. . A
defence was, however, maintained for fourteen days, after which
the capture of the city was averted by a capitulation, by which it
was agreed that all the Franks and Latins should quit Jerusalem,
receiving a safe conduct to the ports of Syria and Egypt; that the
inhabitants should be ransomed for a sum of money; and that those
who were unable to pay it should remain slaves. The whole
country now submitted to the sultan, whose victorious progress was
first arrested by the resistance of Tyre, which was gallantly de¬
fended by Conrad. The sultan, being foiled in all his attempts to
take this place, was finally compelled to raise the siege, and to re¬
treat to Damascus.
The capture of Jerusalem by the infidels, and the decline of the
PALESTINE.
197
Palestine.
Christian cause in Palestine, excited the deepest sorrow; the de¬
caying zeal of the European powers was awakened, and new expe¬
ditions were fitted out for the recovery of the Holy City. In the
year 1189, Philip, King of France, the Emperor Frederick Barba-
rossa of Germany, and Richard I. of England, assembled a large
force; and, with the aid of Flanders, Frise, and Denmark, filled
about 200 vessels with their troops. The first armaments landed
at Tyre, the only remaining inlet of the Christians into the Holy
Land, and no time was lost in commencing the celebrated siege of
Acre, which was maintained with an enthusiasm that mocked at
danger, and by feats of valour that were the theme of wonder, even
in that romantic age. This memorable siege lasted for nearly two
years, and was attended with a prodigious loss of men on both
sides. At length, in the spring of the second year, the royal fleets
of France and England cast anchor in the bay, with powerful
reinforcements, and the brave defenders of Acre were forced to
capitulate. The place was taken possession of by the Christians
on the 12th of July 1191.
The capture of Acre was the prelude to farther operations against
the enemy. Richard determined to commence the siege of Ascalon,
about 100 miles distant, and his march to this place was a continual
battle of eleven days. He was opposed by Saladin with an army
of 300,000 combatants; and on this occasion was fought one of the
most memorable battles of this or any other age. Saladin was
defeated with the loss of 40,000 men, and the victorious Richard
obtained possession of Ascalon and the other towns of Judea. In
the next year Richard made an unsuccessful attempt against Je¬
rusalem; and a vigorous assault by Saladin on Jaffa was repulsed
by Richard. A truce was at length concluded for three years, by
which it was stipulated that the Latin Christians should have
liberty to visit the Holy City without being liable to tribute; that
the fort of Ascalon should be dismantled; and that Jaffa and Tyre,
with the intervening territory, should be surrendered to the Euro¬
peans. Soon after the conclusion of this treaty Richard embarked for
Europe ; and Saladin, his great rival, did not survive many months
the conclusion of peace. He died at Damascus in the year 1193.
In the meantime, in Palestine, though partial successes were
gained by the armies of the Crusaders, their power was on the
decline. The Latin kingdom, now reduced to two or three towns,
was preserved only in a precarious existence by the divisions and
civil wars that prevailed among its enemies.
This intelligence rekindled the dying zeal of the Christian world.
A new crusade was commenced ; and in 1216 a large force, chiefly
of Hungarians and Germans, landed at Acre. The sons of Sapha-
dim, who now ruled in Syria, collected their armies to oppose this
formidable attack. But the Crusaders, rashly conducted, and
weakened by divisions, advanced into the country without concert
or prudence ; provisions failed them ; they were wasted, as usual,
by famine and disease ; and at length their leader, the sovereign of
Hungary, resolved to quit a country where he had been exposed to
hardship and danger, without glory. The crusading armies, thus
weakened and discouraged, had laid aside all further idea of offen¬
sive operations, when, in the spring of the following year, a fleet of
300 vessels that had sailed from the Rhine appeared on the coast,
and brought to their aid powerful reinforcements that recruited
their strength, and restored their ascendancy in the field. For
reasons that do not clearly appear, they now retired from Pales¬
tine, and carried the war into Egypt, where they obtained import¬
ant successes. They Hook Damietta by storm, and spread such
consternation among the infidels that the most favourable terms of
peace were offered, and rejected by them; but having at length
wasted their strength on the banks of the Nile, they were reduced
to the necessity of bargaining for permission to retire to Palestine,
by the cession of all their conquests in Egypt.
The next crusade was undertaken by Frederick II., the grandson
of Barbarossa, according to a vow which had been long made, and
the performance of which had been so long delayed that he was
excommunicated by Gregory IX. By his marriage with Violante,
the daughter of John de Brienne, King of Jerusalem, he was the
more especially bound to vindicate his right to the kingdom, which
he had received as a dowry with his wife. After many delays, he
set sail with a fleet of 200 sail and an army of 40,000 men, and in
t e year 1228 he arrived at Acre. This was the most successful
\v- mos*' W0<xUess expedition that had yet been undertaken.
it out the hazard of a battle he entered Jerusalem in triumph.
e aracen power was at this time weakened by divisions; and,
owing to suspected treachery among his kindred, Kamel, the reign¬
ing sultan, held rather a precarious possession of the throne. It
was is policy, therefore, rather to disarm the hostility of these
power u armies by treating with them, than to encounter them in
f 6 T’ ffn<^ according1y a treaty was concluded, by which Jeru-
sa em, Jaffa, Bethlehem, Nazareth, and their dependencies, were
res ore to the Christians; religious toleration was established, and
e contending parties of Christians and Mohammedans were allowed
each to offer up their devotions, the first at the Holy Sepulchre, and Palestine
the last in the mosque of Omar. The stipulations of this treaty were
not faithfully observed by the Saracens, and the Christians in Pales¬
tine still suffered under the oppression of the infidels. New levies
were raised in Europe for the Holy War; and a large force of French
and English, led by the chief nobility of both nations, landed in
Syria in 1239. Numerous battles were fought, which terminated
in favour of the Saracens; and the French Crusaders, accordingly,
after severe losses, were glad to purchase peace by the cession of
almost all their conquests in Palestine. Next year, when the Eng¬
lish levy under the Earl of Cornwall arrived at the scene of action,
he found, to his surprise, that all the territories and privileges that
had been ceded to the Emperor of Germany were lost, and that a
few fortresses, and a small strip of territory on the coast, comprised
all that the Latins possessed in Palestine. He immediately pre¬
pared for the vigorous prosecution of hostilities; but the sultan,
being involved in war with his brother in Damascus, readily granted
favourable terms as the price of peace—namely, the cession to the
Christian armies of Jerusalem, Beritus, Nazareth, Bethlehem, Mount
Tabor, and a large tract of the adjoining country. But the king¬
dom of Jerusalem, thus so happily established, was subverted by a
calamity from a new and unexpected quarter. In the interior of
Asia the conquests of Ghenghis Khan had brought about the most
stupendous revolutions, and the barbarous hordes of the desert,
flying before his conquering sword, rushed like a torrent on other
nations. The Kharismians, unable to withstand this powerful in¬
vader, were driven upon Syria, and the coalesced powers of Saracen
and Christian were unable to resist their powerful assault. The
Christian host was overthrown in a great battle, which lasted two
days, and in which the grand masters of two orders, and most of
the knights, were slain. The Holy City was then taken and plun¬
dered by the invaders.
Each new disaster of the Christian arms served to rekindle the
languishing zeal of the Europeans ; and Louis IX. of France fitted
out, in 1248, an immense armament for the Holy Land, consisting
of 1800 sail of vessels, in which he embarked an army of 50,000
men. He landed in Egypt, and after storming the town of Dami¬
etta, he advanced along the sea-coast towards Cairo, when his troops
were so wasted by sickness and famine, that they fell an easy prey
to the enemy. The king, with most of his nobles and the remnant
of his army, were made prisoners; and it was owing to the clemency
of the sultan, who accepted a ransom for their lives, that Louis,
with his few followers who remained alive, was permitted to em¬
bark for Palestine.
The power of the Christians in Palestine, weakened, among other
causes, by internal dissensions, was now vigorously assailed by
Bondocdar or Bibars, the Mameluke sovereign of Egypt and Syria.
He invaded Palestine with a formidable army, advanced to the gates
of Acre, and reduced the important city of Antioch, when 17,000
of the inhabitants were put to the sword, and 100,000 carried into
captivity. The report of these cruelties in Europe gave rise to
the eighth and last Crusade against the infidels, which was under¬
taken by Louis, the French king, sixteen years after his return
from captivity. But in place of directing his arms immediately
against Palestine, he landed in Africa, and laid siege to Tunis,
which he reduced. But he perished miserably on the burning
sands of Africa, of a pestilential disease, which proved fatal also to
many of his troops; and thus ingloriously terminated this expedi¬
tion, which was the last undertaken by the Europeans for the
recovery of the Holy Land.
The Europeans in Palestine, a feeble remnant, were now confined
within the walls of Acre, which was besieged by a Mameluke host
of 200,000 troops that issued from Egypt, and encamped on the
adjacent plain. In this, their last conflict with the infidels of the
Holy Land, the Europeans fully maintained the glory of their high
name. They displayed all the devotion of martyrs in a holy cause,
and performed prodigies of valour. But, equalled as they were in
discipline, and fearfully overmatched in numbers, by their enemies,
they were overborne by the weight and violence of their attacks,
and in the storm and sack of the city all either perished or were
carried into captivity. Thus terminated for ever, in 1291, all
those visions of glory and conquest by which so many adventurers
were seduced from Europe to the Holy Land, there to perish under
the complicated perils of disease and the sword. The other smaller
towns which still remained in possession of the Christians yielded
without a struggle to the Moslem arms, and under the religious
tyranny of the infidels which succeeded, the Christians in Palestine
were everywhere reduced to the lowest degree of debasement. The
pilgrims who still visited Jerusalem were exposed to insult and
danger; and large contributions were exacted by their oppressors
for a free passage through the Holy Land. The Mameluke sultans
of Egypt continued to rule over Palestine until the country yielded
to the formidable irruption of the great Tamerlane in 1400. At
his death Jerusalem reverted to the kingdom of Egypt, and was
198 PAL
Palestrina, finally subdued in 1517 by Selim I., the sultan of the Turks, under
y ^ whom it has continued for more than 300 years.
In this condition Palestine remained without any remarkable
event in its history, except that for nearly three centuries it was
the scene of domestic broils, insurrections, and massacres, until the
memorable invasion of Egypt by the French army in 1798. Bo¬
naparte, being apprised that preparations were making in the
pashalic of Acre for attacking him in Egypt, resolved, according
to his usual tactics, to anticipate the movements of his enemies.
He accordingly marched across the desert which divides Egypt
from Palestine, and invaded the country at the head of 10,000
troops. After taking several towns, and among the rest Jaffa,
where he stained his character by the atrocious massacre of 4000
prisoners, Napoleon proceeded to form the siege of Acre ; and this
fortress, the last scene of conflict between the Christians and infi¬
dels of former days, became a modern field of battle, in which
were exhibited prodigies of valour that rivalled the most renowned
deeds of those chivalric times. Notwithstanding the obstinate de¬
fence, Bonaparte persevered in a series of furious assaults against
the fortress, which were all most gallantly repelled; and after a
protracted siege of sixty days, a last assault was ordered, which
was equally unsuccessful with all former attempts, and was at¬
tended with the loss of some of his bravest warriors. This last
failure dictated the necessity of an immediate retreat, which was
accomplished with difficulty, in a tedious march through the burn¬
ing desert, where hardship and privation of every sort was the lot
of the wayworn soldier, and the sick and wounded were left in
most cases to inevitable death.
In the year 1811a new power arose in the East,—namely, that of
Mehemet Ali, the viceroy of Egypt, who, having collected large trea¬
sures and a well-disciplined army, openly renounced his allegiance
to the grand signior, A war took place, in which the hasty levies
of Turkey were broken and put to flight by the veteran troops of
Egypt; and a series of brilliant successes added Syria to the vice¬
roy’s dominions. The people generally were disposed to hail the
change of masters with pleasure, and by a well-advised and mode¬
rate system of government, Mehemet Ali might have bound them
firmly to his person and his cause. But although in some respects
an enlightened man, his notions of government were oriental and
despotic, and the sort of European discipline and order which he
had introduced into his civil and military service was chiefly va¬
lued by him as an instrument for giving moje general and certain
effect to his extortions. The Syrians soon discovered that, instead
of being relieved from the exactions of the Turkish government,
much heavier burdens were laid upon them. The forcible impress¬
ment of men for the army, and the disarming of the population,
were the measures that created the most discontent, and led to such
disturbances and revolts as encouraged the Porte in the design that
it had always entertained, of reducing the pasha and recovering his
provinces. In 1839 a Turkish army appeared on the northern fron¬
tier of Syria, and soon came into collision with the Egyptian army
under Ibrahim Pasha, son of Mehemet Ali, by whom it wa,s totally
defeated, and the European powers then deemed it right to interfere
PAL
to crush the ambitious designs of the Egyptian viceroy. This was Palestrina,
accomplished in 1841, chiefly by means of a British fleet, by which . _ L
Acre and other strongholds were taken for the sultan; and the pasha v
was at length compelled to evacuate Syria, and restore it to the do¬
minions of the Porte. Scarcely had Syria been evacuated by the
Egyptians, when the Christians, who had before supported Ibra¬
him Pasha, began hostilities against the Turks, while at the same
time the Maronites and Druses of Mount Lebanon were en¬
gaged in fierce and bloody contests with each other; so that the
Porte was unable to reduce the country to a settled state. In Jeru¬
salem the Mohammedan population raised great obstacles to the
erection of a Protestant church, in opposition to the British, French,
Russian, and Sardinian consulates that had been established there :
and in 1843 they proceeded to violence against the French consul¬
ate. In 1845 the insurrectionary struggles of the Druses and Ma¬
ronites, who had united against the Turkish government, reached
such a height that the Porte gave orders for the disarming of all
the inhabitants of Lebanon ; a measure which was carried out by
the soldiery with much rigour and cruelty. The dispute about the
possession of the holy places at Jerusalem, which began in 1850,
though in itself insignificant, is of some importance, as having been
one of the causes that led to the recent Russian war. The various
sects of Christians, and especially the Greek and Latin churches,
have been for ages involved in quarrels regarding the possession of
the real or supposed localities of the great events of the New Testa¬
ment history, on which their various churches and sanctuaries have
been erected ; and the Turkish government has been appealed to
as an arbiter on both sides. Recently, however, these quarrels as¬
sumed a political aspect, from the interference of Russia on behalf
of the Greek, and of France on behalf of the Roman Church. Con¬
cessions were made in 1852 to the Romanists by the Porte, which
would have satisfied the French government; but within a month
afterwards, a hatti-sherif was published in favour of the Greeks,
allowing them several privileges which could not well be reconciled
with those promised to their rivals. Notwithstanding these com¬
plications, a peaceable arrangement was on the point of being
effected, when the Russian government interfered, and made this
question one of its pretexts for a rupture with Turkey. Prince
Menschikoff was sent to Constantinople nominally to effect a settle¬
ment of the question regarding the holy places, but his demands
soon extended much further than this question, and affected the
condition of all the Christian subjects of the sultan, so as to place
them virtually under the Russian instead of the Turkish govern¬
ment. These demands were refused by the Porte ; and the conse¬
quence was, the seizure of the Danubian Principalities by Russia.
This step was followed by the declaration of war with Russia by
England and France. After the conclusion of the war, the sultan
published in 1856 a hatt-humayoun confirming the hatti-sherif of
Gulhanie, published in 1839, and granting full liberty to all his
subjects, of whatever persuasion, in the exercise of their religious
rites. The political events which have recently taken place in
Turkey have exercised a beneficial effect on the condition of Pro¬
testants in Syria and other parts of the empire. (d. k.)
PALESTRINA, Giovanni Pierluigi da, a most dis¬
tinguished composer of music, took his surname from that
small town in the Roman Campagna in which he was born.
The name of his family, their station, the date of his birth,
and that of his death, remain doubtful, notwithstanding the
long and indefatigable inquiries of the Abate Baini, director
of the Pope’s chapel at Rome, whose work on Palestrina
is the most complete and accurate yet published. The
probable facts stated by the abate are,—that Palestrina s
parents were poor, that he was born in 1524, and that he
died on 2d February 1594, aged seventy. It appears that
he went to Rome in 1540, and studied music in the school
established there by the French musician Claude Goudi-
mel, the best musicians in the chief chapels of Italy being
at that time natives of France, or Belgium, or Spain. In
1551 Palestrina was appointed maestro di capella of the
Julian chapel, and was the first musician on whom that
title of chapel-master was conferred. In 1554 he published
his first collection of masses, four of them for four voices,
and one for five. They were dedicated to Pope Julius III.,
who, in January 1555, appointed Palestrina one of the
singers of the pontifical chapel. Palestrina had married
when young, and his wife bore him four sons, the youngest
of whom edited the two last books of his father’s masses.
When Pope Paul VI. succeeded Pope Marcellos II., he
took offence at those singers in the papal chapel who were
married, and expelled them on that account. One of these
was Palestrina. On 1st October 1555 Palestrina was ap¬
pointed chapel-master of St John of Lateran, a post which
he held for about .five years, and during which time he
composed some of his finest works. On 1st March 1561
he improved his income by becoming chapel-master of
Santa-Maria Maggiore, and held that office till 31st March
1571. In 1563 the Council of Trent having censured the
profane words and music introduced into masses, Pope Pius
IV. ordered this matter to be reformed. Palestrina was
invited to compose a mass upon the reformed plan. He
composed three for six voices. One of them (called Missa
Papce Marcelli) was thought so admirable that Pius IV.
rewarded its author by naming him composer to the ponti¬
fical chapel, with a salary of nine scudi (about L.2) a month.
Afterwards Pope Gregory XIV. increased that salary. In
April 1571 Palestrina once more entered the chapel of St
Peter in the Vatican, and finally became director of the
1 Memorie storico-critiche della vita e delle opere di Oiovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, &c., Rome, 1828, 2 vols. 4to.
PAL
PAL
199
Palestrina school of counterpoint formed by Nanini. In July 1580
|| the death of his wife caused him great affliction; and he
Faiey. seetns to have passed the last years of his life in very strait-
ened circumstances. He alludes to his struggles with
poverty in the dedication to Sixtus V. of his first book of
the Lamentations of Jeremiah, for four voices, 1588.
He died on 2d February 1594, and was interred in the
Vatican, the following inscription being engraved on his
tomb:—“Joannes Petrus Aloysius Praenestinus. Musicae
Princeps.” A fine portrait of Palestrina is given in the
Abate Baini’s work above cited. In the church style of
composition Palestrina attained a degree of excellence
which has never been equalled. His style is pure, noble,
and flowing. His voice parts are written with the greatest
skill, each part being made to sing in a simple, free, and
natural manner, and using only the best notes belonging to
each kind of voice; while the whole voices concur in pro¬
ducing the smoothest and best effect. When Cherubini
taught composition in the Paris Conservatory, he analyzed
and explained the works of Palestrina as models of the
highest style of church music. Besides a vast quantity of
music for the church, Palestrina composed two books of
madrigals for four voices, and one for five. These madri¬
gals are admirable, though too little known in Great Bri¬
tain. His published works consist of thirteen books of
Masses, six books of Motets, one book of Lamentations,
one book of Hymns, one book of Offertories, one book of
Magnificat, one book of Litanies, one book of Spiritual
Madrigals, and three books of Madrigals. Many of his un¬
published compositions are preserved in the Vatican Library.
The Abate Baini had prepared a complete collection in
score of all Palestrina’s works, but there is little prospect
now of its publication. (g. f. g.)
PALESTRINA (anciently Prceneste'), an episcopal town
of the Papal States, on the slope of a hill, 23 miles E.S.E.
of Rome. Among its public buildings are the church of
Santa Rosalia, and the old palace of the Barberini family.
It still contains many remains of its ancient splendour.
Manufactures of woollen cloth are carried on here. Pop.
6000. (See Pr^eneste.)
PALEY, William, one of the most acute of English
thinkers, and one of the most graphic of English writers,
was born at Peterborough, July 1743. His father, who
was a minor canon in the cathedral there, was appointed,
while Paley was yet a child, head master of Giggleswick
grammar school in Yorkshire.
Here Paley received his education under his father’s
eye, and early displayed the vigour of mind for which he
was afterwards so eminent. He outstripped, we are told,
all his school-fellows.
While making nearly equal progress in all the school
studies, the special tendencies of his genius were even then
distinctly marked. He took a keen delight in examining
any curious pieces of mechanism that fell in his way; and
on casually seeing a trial at Lancaster about a year before he
left school, is saiS to have been so much excited by it, that
he introduced mock trials as a pastime among his school¬
fellows. One would have liked to see him in his juvenile
attempts at sifting evidence and cross-examining witnesses.
—Active in mind, he was sluggish in body, and took little
part in the athletic sports of his companions; he was fond,
however, of long rambles among the fields ; and of angling,
a sport the love of which, in after life, became a passion.
Young Paley remained under his father’s eye till his
sixteenth year, when he went to Cambridge (1758), and
was admitted a sizar of Christ’s College. On leaving home
his father prophesied his son’s future fame,—“ He’ll turn
out a great man—very great; he has by far the clearest
head l ever met with.” He made his first journey to the
university on a pony, in company with his father, and has
given us an amusing account of his equestrian misadventures.
His father jogged on before, and Paley trotted behind. Paley.
“ I was never a good horseman,” says he; “ and when I ^
followed my father on a pony of my own, on my first jour¬
ney to Cambridge, I fell off seven times. I was lighter
then than I am now; and my falls were not likely to be
serious. My father, on hearing a thump, would turn his
head half aside, and say, ‘ Take care of thy money lad.’”
During the early part of his under-graduateship Paley
was more notorious for humour, social propensities, and
indolence, than for diligence and application. A singular
incident, which shows his force of character in a very re¬
markable light, revolutionized all his habits as a student.
“ I spent,” says he, “ the first two years of my under-gra¬
duateship happily, but unprofitably. I was constantly in
society, where we were, not immoral, but idle and rather
expensive. At the commencement of my third year, how¬
ever, after having left the usual party at rather a late hour
in the evening, I was awakened at five in the morning by
one of my companions, who stood at my bedside, and said,
‘ Paley, I have been thinking what a fool you are. I
could do nothing, probably, were I to try, and can afford
the life I lead; you could do everything, and cannot afford
it. I have had no sleep the whole night on account of
these reflections, and am now come solemnly to inform
you, that if you persist in your indolence I must renounce
your society.’ I was so struck with the visit and the visi¬
tor, that I lay in bed great part of the day, and formed my
plan. I ordered my bed-maker to prepare my fire every
evening, in order that it might be lighted by myself. I
arose at five; read during the whole of the day, except such
hours as chapel and hall required; allotted to each portion
of time its peculiar branch of study; and just before the
closing of the college gates (9 o’clock), I went to a neighbour¬
ing coffee-house, where I constantly regaled on a mutton
chop and a dose of milk-punch; and thus, on taking my
bachelor’s degree, I became senior wrangler.”
Such an odd sermon from such an odd preacher, at so
unusual an hour, might well startle the listener; but the
instantaneous revolution it wrought shows wonderful decision
of character, and might have been introduced as an illus¬
tration in Foster’s celebrated essay on that subject.
He took his bachelor’s degree January 1763, and for nearly
three years afterwards was assistant in a school at Green¬
wich. In June 1766 his election to a fellowship of Christ’s
College brought him back to the university, where he be¬
came one of the tutors of his college. Here he delivered
lectures on the subjects which afterwards occupied him in
his principal writings—moral philosophy and divinity. His
coadjutor was Mr Law, son of Dr Edmund Law, the master
of Peterhouse, who was afterwards bishop of Carlisle, and
Paley’s lifelong patron.
After living about ten years as college tutor, Paley re¬
signed his fellowship, and married. In 1775 he was pre¬
sented, through his friend Bishop Law, to the rectory of
Musgrove in Westmoreland; to which were soon after¬
wards added the vicarage of Dalston in Cumberland, and
the living of Appleby in Westmoreland. In 1782 he was
made archdeacon of Carlisle, and about the same time
exchanged the living of Appleby for a stall in that cathe¬
dral. His income was now considerable.
In 1785 he published, in 4to, his first considerable work,
the Moral and Political Philosophy. For the copyright
the author received L.1000,—a very unusual sum for liter¬
ary work in those days; but the popularity which the book
rapidly acquired proved that the publisher had made a safe
speculation.
In 1790 he published his Horae Paulince, which, of all
his works, gives us the fullest image of the characteristics of
his mind, and is certainly entitled to be called the most ori¬
ginal.
In May 1791 Paley lost his wife, who left him with eight
200 PAL
Faley. children,—four sons and four daughters. He remained a
widower four years, and then married Miss Dobinson, a lady
of Carlisle long known to him, and much esteemed.
In 1791, at the height of the panic produced by the
French Revolution, Paley wrote his Reasons for Content¬
ment,—a brochure which he regarded, it is said, with all
an author’s complacency, and pronounced the best thing he
ever wrote. It consists of some rather commonplace truths
very well expressed, but is quite unworthy of his partial
estimate of it. It has been said that his political zeal was
stimulated by the hope of a mitre; if so, he wras doomed
to be disappointed. But, in justice to Paley, it must not
be forgotten that he was not a man likely to pay court to
the ruling powers, either in this or any other way, from the
mere hope of preferment.1 He who said that the “ Divine
right of kings was on the same footing with the Divine
right of constables,” could hardly hope for favour from a
monarch like George III.
In 1791 the dean and chapter of Carlisle presented him
to the vicarage of Addingham ; and two years after, he va¬
cated the benefice of Dalston in exchange for that of Stan-
wix, which was nearer to Carlisle. This was the best of
the three reasons which Paley is said to have given for the
change. They were as follows:—“ First, it saved me
double housekeeping, Stanwix being within twenty minutes’
walk of Carlisle; secondly. Its value was greater by L.50
a year ; and, thirdly, I began to find my stock of sermons
coming over again too fast”
In 1794 appeared his work on the Evidences of Chris¬
tianity, which has perhaps been the most popular of them
all, and was certainly best recompensed. Though the
court and minister were inexorable, or insensible to his
claims, preferments were showered on him by the bench.
Bishop Porteous gave him a prebendal stall in St Paul’s ;
Lincoln made him sub-dean of that see ; Durham conferred
on him the living of Bishop-Wear mouth : altogether, these
preferments yielded considerably more than L.2000 a year.
If it be ever desirable to reward merits like those of Paley
in this oblique way, few men have better deserved episcopal
patronage, for the services he rendered to the cause of our
common Christianity were unquestionably very signal.
After being made sub-dean of Lincoln, Paley took his
doctor’s degree, and in his concio ad clerum made an
unhappy slip in quantity, pronouncing profugus with the
penult long,—an offence which was duly expiated by being
made the subject of some college wit’s sarcastic epigram;
but he had better success when he completed his exercises
for his degree. In the discourse he addressed to the clergy
on that occasion (one of his best), he characterizes with
much ability and force the dangers and temptations which
“ beset the” clerical character,” and here and there shows a
knowledge of the philosophy of human nature not unworthy
of Barrow or Butler.
In 1795 Paley took up his abode at Bishop-Wearmouth.
In accordance with the principles advocated in his Moral
Philosophy, and in accordance too, it may be added, with
his benevolent disposition and his wish to live in peace
with his parishioners, he agreed to commute the tithes for
a fixed payment during his life. The rapid rise that took
place in the value of farm produce during the following
years made the tenants well contented with their part of
the bargain, and it is much to Paley’s credit that he never
repented of his.
At the solicitation of the Bishop of Durham, he consented
to act in the commission of the peace, for which, in many
respects, he was admirably well fitted. In his Moral Phi-
E Y.
losophy he has specified the magistrate’s function as one, Paley.
by the discharge of which a conscientious man may, at
little cost, secure some of the most comprehensive ends of
benevolence: and this is true; but the office requires great
patience and self-control, and our philosopher, according
to his biographers, was somewhat too irascible to discharge
it well.
In 1800 Paley was attacked by the complaint which
ultimately proved mortal, though not till after some years of
much suffering. His last, and in many respects greatest
work, his Natural Theology, was prosecuted, and in great
part written, during the intervals between the paroxysms
of this painful disease. No sooner was the paroxysm over
than Paley resumed his work with unflagging spirit. The
reader will recollect the pleasant passage in which he half
makes it a question whether the delicious sense of relief
from pain be not a compensation for suffering it. A calm
estimate, probably, would make every one answer in the
negative; but the thought seems to have been suggested
in the grateful experience of recent relief from severe suf¬
fering. Paley died May 25, 1805.
The mind of Paley was acute rather than profound—dis¬
criminating and observant rather than comprehensive. If
we except the mathematics, he had little aptitude for ab¬
stract science ; the complex, subtle, fugitive phenomena of
consciousness he had neither analytic skill, nor, we sus¬
pect, patience, thoroughly to investigate. In almost the
only place in all his wTorks — the first two books of his
Moral Philosophy—where refined analysis of the phe¬
nomena of consciousness was specially demanded, he is
generally admitted to have signally failed. When he ap¬
proaches the confines of a metaphysical discussion, we see
how apt he is to resile from it; in part, doubtless, from
want of congeniality with such subjects, but in part also
from his predominant love of the practical. Indeed, from
the strength of this last characteristic, he would probably
still have been an indifferent metaphysician, even had his
talents for abstract science been much greater than they
were. As it was, the sense of the practical generally de¬
cided at once the limits within which he was disposed to
speculate. But within his own province—and a very ex¬
tensive and most important one it is—it may be doubted
whether any mind was ever more happily equipped for its
functions. In all questions that involve a practical issue,
and which stop short of the investigation of the metaphy¬
sical principles of knowledge and belief; questions which
men must, and will, and do decide independently of the
theories of those principles ; in all questions which involve
the investigation and comparison ofi facts, and just logical
deduction from them,—his powers are of the very first order.
Few ever surpassed him in the discovery of apt arguments
for his purpose—in the ingenuity with which he could com¬
bine apparently inconsiderable and often neglected data,
and make them yield unexpected conclusions—in the selec¬
tion and arrangement of his materials—in the skill with
which he wrought them into his truly original structures of
argumentation—in the fecundity and felicity of his illus¬
trations, or the exquisite precision and transparency of his
style; and hence, on all his works he has stamped the
image of his own genius, though the subjects (with one ex¬
ception) were already worn thread-bare. In surveying his
ground, in determining what points to assail or defend,
and in marshalling his forces, he had, in military phrase,
the general’s eye. His works, in their whole laying out
and plan—in their adaptation of part to part—exhibit not
simply strong powers of logic, but constructive genius of a
1 There was a tradition, that on the occasion of Pitt’s visit to the university, soon after his becoming premier, Paley reproved the
greedy court paid to the youthful minister by preaching from the text,—“ There is a lad here which hath five barley loaves and two
small fishes; but what are they among so many ?” The story may have originated, and probably did, in some playful pleasantry of
Paley; but had he thus desecrated the pulpit, he would have deserved as grave a rebuke as the venal suitors for ministerial favour.
P A L E Y.
201
very high order. His imagination and his wit were both
tolerably active ; indeed, the latter is represented as exube¬
rant in private life, and as making him the delight of the
social circle; but in his writings both these qualities are so
completely ministerial, that there is probably hardly a single
instance in all his works where an illustration is introduced
to embellish or delight, or to minister to the sense of
beauty. All are either exemplifications of the argument
itself {instances'), or designed to give a more graphic and
precise expression to it. His style is the just reflex of his
mind. It is eminently precise and luminous both as re¬
gards diction and construction : as he-is never guilty of over¬
doing in argument, but contents himself with the proofs that
most speedily establish the conclusion, and there stops, so
it is in his style. The chief excellence of all strictly argu¬
mentative composition must of course be perspicuity; for
what is called beauty of style (as regards the greater part
of its elements) there cannot be much scope. Perspicuity
of style, however, Paley possesses in such perfection, that
its very lucidity becomes beauty. Probably no man besides
ever expressed so much scientific matter as he has expressed
in his Natural Theology without technicalities, without
pedantry, in such easy colloquial diction, with such apt
and homely illustrations. It is science without the forms
of it.
This lucid simplicity has often led readers to undervalue
Paley as a thinker: it not only produces the effect of a
perfectly translucent medium, which, the more clearly it
lets us see objects, the less it obtrudes itself upon us ; it is
like a pure stream, which refracts the light so perfectly as
always to seem to the eye more shallow than it is.
There is a natural correspondence between the mental
and moral characteristics of men ; so it was with Paley. His
intellect was neither profound nor subtle; and, accordingly,
his sympathies were circumscribed. He was also without
enthusiasm ; and there was, in consequence, little elevation
of sentiment and no vehemence of passion about him. His
Sermons, accordingly (though we are not to forget that they
were never designed for publication), exhibit plain good
sense, expressed with characteristic perspicuity, but without
any of the “ thoughts that breathe and words that burn”
which constitute true eloquence. It must be added that
they exhibit a very defective perception of the deeper spirit¬
ual truths of the gospel, and the deeper spiritual anatomy
of human nature. His benevolence, however, was active
and genuine, practical, like all his other qualities,—and
none the worse for being of that undemonstrative character
which best harmonized with his plain, direct, practical intel¬
lect. Benevolence with him was a habit, and no mere sen¬
timent. Few were more at home in ministering to the wants
of the poor and the sick, and in devising plans for alleviating
the sorrows of his parishioners.—Another marked trait of his
character was his equable cheerfulness. This, too, is often
found in those who, like Paley, are chiefly distinguished by
plain rectitude of understanding and incapacity of the
deeper emotions ; for profound thought and profound feel¬
ing almost always pay the penalty of fits of melancholy as
the cost of ecstasies and exaltation. This elastic spirit is
pleasantly displayed in many passages of his Natural Theo-
written as it was in the intervals of severe suffering.
Nothing that he saw around, or felt in himself, could damp
t e buoyancy of heart, which made him exclaim, amidst
tie rejoicing song of birds, and hum of insects, and radiant
smiles of infants,—happy by immediate donation of God,—
it is a happy world after all.” All he suffered seems as
little to have tinged his own spirit with sadness as the
spectacle of those more comprehensive miseries of the
world which would have made many a deeper but less en-
via y-constituted mind — John Foster’s, for example—
pause before it gave expression to such a sentiment, or half
retract it as soon as uttered.
VOL. XVII.
All the principal wwks of Paley exhibit his chief char¬
acteristics of mind in singular perfection : it is mirrored in
them. However they may differ in intrinsic value, they
are all stamped nearly in the same degree with the impress
of his genius. The most faulty, owing to his erroneous
theory of morals in the first portions, is the Moral and
Political Philosophy. On this the remarks of Sir James
Mackintosh, in his Ethical Dissertation, make it needless
to say much here. It is sufficient to remind the reader
that Paley’s theory does not account (nor can any such
theory) for the very origination of the ideas of right and
wrong, duty and obligation, in the human mind ; notions
which are perfectly unique, as much so as those which are
the product of any other distinctive faculty of our nature,—
and in every case irreducible to the mere conceptions of
the “prudent” and “imprudent,” of “profit” and “loss,”
into which, if the utilitarian theory were true, they should
be resolvable. Sir James Mackintosh has insisted much, and
justly, on the approximate agreement among mankind in
their moral judgments as an argument for man’s original moral
constitution ; but it may be remarked that even a wider
divergence in this respect, a greater diversity in the moral
codes of men, would not impair the above argument
against Paley’s theory. It is no doubt true that there
is such an approximation to agreement among mankind,
and the logical force of their differences is fairly neutralized
by the facts Sir James insists on. Though not unim¬
portant, and proving clearly enough some abnormality in
human nature on any hypothesis, these differences, which
are always made one of the principal arguments against the
theory of an original moral constitution of human nature,
form in reality no argument at all. That distinctive moral
constitution is shown in the very conception of right and
wrong—moral approbation and the contrary ; and there is
as real, though not as pleasant, a proof of man’s original
moral constitution when the conception is vitiated as when
it is not. It would not invalidate the argument that the
eye, the organ by which the notions of light and colour are
conveyed, implies a distinct faculty of our nature, were
it true that no two men sawr just alike; nay, if one saw
green where another saw blue. Very bad eyes they would
be in that case, no doubt; still, that there was the percep¬
tion of light and colour at all would be the result of a dis¬
tinct organism to convey them, and due to no other sense.
In like manner, it may be argued that, in the present con¬
dition of man, his moral perceptions may be often vitiated,
and yet that the very existence of such notions as obliga¬
tion, duty, and remorse, show a distinct moral constitution
of man, whether it be the result of some single faculty
called a “ moral sense,” or as a distinct result of the reci¬
procal action of many faculties.
It is not to be denied that the want of elevation and
nobility in Paley’s ethical principles has unfavourably
affected some of his practical applications. It is impossible
to read his lax observations on “ subscription,” his tender
dealing with what are called “ white lies ” and other pecca¬
dilloes, without feeling that his theory has in some cases
warped his decisions, and in others has injured the tone,
even where the decisions are not erroneous.
He seems to have formed his ethical theory very early.
The subject of his Latin dissertation for the senior bache¬
lor’s prize (in 1765) was “a comparison between the Stoic
and Epicurean philosophy in their influence on morals,” &c.;
and he awards the superiority to the latter. It must be
added, that on certain occasions in life he too obsequi¬
ously followed his own theory. One of the theses he pro¬
posed (in 1762) to defend in the schools was, that eternal
punishments are inconsistent with the Divine attributes ;
but having learned that it would give umbrage, he accepted,
with grateful alacrity, the suggestion of Dr Watson, that
he could insert “non” in the proposition, and take the
2 c
P A L E Y.
202
Paley. other side; which he accordingly did, and argued for
the contrary of his own convictions with great eclat and
success. It cannot become any man thus to trifle with his
genuine sentiments. In like manner, when asked to sign
the petition for a relaxation of the terms of subscription, he
gave as his reason for refusing, that (though he heartily
approved of the object) “he could not afford to keep a
conscience.” It would be unjust to press a joke, such as
this must have been, too far (for Paley did “ keep a con¬
science”), but it is impossible to help feeling that a want
of due sensitiveness—a certain moral laxity on some oc¬
casions—was the consistent fruit of a moral theory which
necessarily turns the thoughts too closely on the “profit”
and “ loSs,” the advantages and disadvantages of actions,
and invites to a too solicitous casuistry wherever it is not
absolutely shameless to exercise it.—Apart from the vice
in the principles of his ethical theory, the treatise is not
unworthy of Paley; and many portions display all the acute¬
ness, justness of thinking, and felicity of style which so
eminently distinguished him. His illustrations of the in¬
stitution of property and its advantages—his remarks on
the best modes of exercising benevolence—his contemp¬
tuous exposure of the excuses for not practising it—his
chapter on anger and its “sedatives”—these and many other
portions are admirable.
It is the fashion with infidelity now-a-days to speak of
Paley’s “ Evidences” as passe; as having little or no relation
to present controversies, and as utterly inadequate to meet
those more subtle and more efficient methods of refuting
the truth of Christianity, which modern astuteness has
discovered. This is a stock fallacy with many infidel
writers; and by mere repetition it has, among the young
and ignorant, often passed current. We maintain, on the
contrary, that the supposed new methods differ from the
old more in form than substance ; and that when they
differ in form they do not affect the substance of the argu¬
ment. Almost everything in the new methods that has
any real bearing on the controversy has been long since
propounded to the world. Nor, if we reflect, could it well be
otherwise. An asserted historic fact is not, like a Chinese
puzzle, capable of being put together in a thousand ways.
Christianity professes to be historically true; and the only
way it can be shown not to be so, is to show that its alleged
facts are no facts at all. Now, the mode of doing this
admits of no great choice ; changes of form or detail there
may be, but there can be little more. For example, it may
be contended by one that Christianity originated in im¬
posture ; by another, that it was simple honesty mistaking
its facts (very simple, indeed, it must have been, if it
could mistake such facts); by a third, that it was a slow
growth of popular credulity out of a slender nucleus of
truth ; by a fourth, that it was a result of all these. And all
these hypotheses, in various ways and in different degrees,
were given long ago to the world t the elder infidels de¬
pending more on the coarse imputation of fraud practising
on credulity, though not to a wasteful exclusion of other
less offensive suppositions on particular occasions, the
modern opponents, with improved politeness, rather dwell¬
ing on innocent self-deception and honest credulity in the
founders of Christianity; though here again we find no
absolute lack of infidels who prefer the curt effrontery of the
elder gainsayers. But the supposition of these illegitimate
motives rather than those in the authors or propagators of
Christianity can constitute no variation in the argu¬
ments for confuting its claims as history. The mode in
which the assailant acts may vary on that supposition ; it
may make him more cautious on this pointer bold on that;
or induce him to reject, if he adopt one hypothesis, some
arguments which he would use if he adopted another;
but it cannot affect the only point of any real import¬
ance,—namely, the value of the arguments which are to
prove that Christianity is not historic. As to this, it does Paley.
not matter a rush what are the sentiments of the assailant
as to Christ’s character or that of the apostles; it is a
mere question of his insolence or urbanity, his charity or
malignity, about which it is hardly worth while to carry
on controversy. What he has to do is to show either that
the facts of Christianity are d priori incredible, or in¬
credible from their intrinsical inconsistency and contradic¬
toriness, viewed as history. Now, when that is attempted,
we invariably come to essentially the same methods as
were employed long ago. A few arguments may be with¬
drawn, disabled to the rear, and a few new recruits brought
to the front; and more or less strategical skill may be
found in marshalling the forces; but the staple of the method
is, and must be, the same. If it be said—“ But are you not
doing injustice? Though many of the modern objections
to the current Christianity are, it is true, old objections,—
especially the alleged discrepancies, and d priori objections
to miracles,—and are attended with the same result, even
the elimination of all the miraculous facts and all the pecu¬
liar doctrines, yet do not the objectors say they are Chris¬
tians still ? Christianity is accepted by them in a certain
rationalist or mythical sense. You have not a miraculous
fact left, it is true, or a doctrine of Christianity which dis¬
tinguishes it from the philosophy of Seneca or Epictetus ;
but that is all: if you have not Paul, you have Paulus;
or Christ is simply ‘turned into an Hegelian.’” We
answer, that to get rid of the facts, these writers are first
obliged to resort to the old methods under new disguises;
and, as just said, it matters not in the interest of what
particular faction of their own they thus attempt to get
rid of them ; only it may well be asserted that those who
pretend to retain Christianity after having critically juggled
it out of all its asserted facts and doctrines, and its founders
out of all their brains in having believed them, are by far
the worst infidels of all. They come with the rest of the
rabble, “with swords and staves for to take Christ;” but
they come by night, they come among the chief priests
and scribes, and they betray him with a kiss.
When, therefore, opponents affirm, “ I he modern apolo¬
gists rely on the obsolete and exploded methods, the new
and more subtle attacks are evaded,” it is wise to deny it,
and challenge explicit proof. On the contrary, it may be
shown, if we can but get them to details, that the argu¬
ments by which modern infidelity assails Christianity are, in
substance, what were propounded long ago. 1 he infidel
hypotheses as to its origin are indeed various, and, un¬
happily for its opponents, very contradictory ; but the argu¬
ments by which it is attempted to prove its unhistoric char¬
acter are necessarily the same.
Thus, it is not easy to see that the d priori argument
for the incredibility of all external revelation, based on
the modern “ spiritual deism,” differs essentially from Lord
Herbert’s old-fashioned argument founded on his natural
deism ; nor does it matter, though the one calls the responses
of the internal oracle “ spiritual intuitions,” and the other
“ innate ideas.” There is plenty of scope for a “ revela¬
tion,” as human nature is now constituted, in confirmation
or rectification of either; for never, judging by results, was
any oracle less oracular.
Similarly, the assertion of the d priori incredibility of
miracles, so often and so perseveringly insisted on in our
day, as utterly inconsistent with the uniformities of ante¬
cedence and sequence in the phenomena of nature, in no way
differs from the old-fashioned talk of their being “ con¬
trary to experience, and contrary to reason,” which Boling-
broke and Hume, and multitudes more, expatiated upon in
the course of last century; the fallacy in either case being
the same, and more worthy of children than philosophers,
namely, that what we have not seen never was, and that the
same uniformities of experience which we have been familiar
P A L E Y.
203
Paley. with, have ever existed and ever will. Old or new, the argu-
ment may well be called a fallacy, for it can never be con¬
sistently held by any class of minds, not even by the atheist;
for, to him who denies that there is any presiding Intelligence
which has ordained that things should be thus or thus,
there is no reason why he should not believe in the possi¬
bility of any jumble of antecedents and consequents; that is,
in the possibility of any number of miracles; rather he should
congratulate his good fortune that he does not meet with
them every day,—that he does not see men born with two
heads instead of one, and going on four legs instead of two.
But, at any rate, no theist,—no one who believes that man is
not “ an eternal series” (no matter whether he believes that
he sprang out of the dust or was slowly developed out of a
tadpole,—a monkey being one of the intermediate links),
ought to insist on the a priori incredibility of miracles;
for whether the phenomena he is compelled to admit, re¬
quire moments or centuries to bring them about, makes no
difference as to their character ; they as much transcend all
our present experience, and as much contradict it, as any
miracles that can possibly be found, whether in the New
Testament or elsewhere. Doubtless we should all stare
as much at seeing a tadpole transmuted into a man, as at
seeing a man compacted out of the dust. It is difficult,
therefore, not to doubt the logical honesty of any theist, old
or new, who urges this objection, unless he believes that his
“ experience is the measure of all things,” and that what is
has ever been, and will ever be.
Again ; as to the discrepancies that have been so much
paraded in our day, the principal of these have been insisted
upon from the very earliest times, and have been in all time
among the stock arguments of infidelity. With what suc¬
cess we may see ; they never have prevented, and never will
prevent, the great bulk of investigators from feeling that, be
they solved or be they not, they are of no avail against the
prodigious accumulation of positive historic proof in favour
of Christianity.
We have said that Paley’s work is still a sufficient an¬
swer to the generality of modern arguments against Chris¬
tianity. Even Paulus and Strauss, so far as Christianity
is really assailed by any argument which attempts to prove
its unhistoric character, only use the old methods ; as for
their own hypotheses,—utterly contradictory, by the way,—
for accounting for its origin in defiance of history, Paley
of course never dreamt of them; nor is it a matter of
much consequence, for they are just becoming (one of them
has become) a by-word and laughing-stock in Germany it¬
self. Not only are they so incoherent with each other, but
they imply such a dreadful compression and torture of the
understanding of any reasonable creature who attempts to
believe that either does really give the rationale of the Chris¬
tianity of the New Testament,—both so aggravate all
the difficulties of its origin, supposing it to be what they
make it, that there is not one man out of a thousand
who would not sooner receive the entire New Testament,
or reject it entire, than submit to the humiliation and bond¬
age of such exegesis. It is often perfectly ludicrous, even
as applied to single passages; but to go through the whole
New Testament, reading plain narratives backwards or cross¬
wise, or any way except the plain way,—dissolving facts into
mistakes and myths,—is beyond all human patience. Take,
for example, a single case. Let us hear how a rationalist,
by no means the wildest of them, proposes to account for
the history of the conversion of St Paul.
According to his account, Saul, the persecutor, must
be supposed to have left Jerusalem with all the bigotry,
and in the savage mood, imputed to him in the history and
acknowledged by himselt; with the conscientious self¬
approval of that pious work in which he was engaged,
and which he accounted an honour,—a zeal, no doubt,
as in all like cases, inflamed by recent excesses, and chafed
by opposition. As he is journeying along, he is led, quite
as a natural thing, and in the way of self-dialogue, into
a train of reflection on the enormity of his conduct,—that
conduct which he deemed but the moment before so
honourable;—on the innocence of the Christians, whom
he deemed but yesterday traitors, apostates, and rebels, to
the ancient theocracy; and finally on the excellence of
Christ, whose image to Saul must have been that of a man
who had suffered on the gallows,—for such was the cross to
the imagination then, however hallowed now,— the just re¬
ward of his blasphemous presumption! Now, before proceed¬
ing further, one thing is clear; that if this gratuitous theory of
the persecutor’s change of mood, utterly unsupported by a
single syllable of history, and utterly inconsistent with the
conditions of a human mind in the state of the zeal-blinded
and conscientiously-bigoted apostle, be received, it must be
received as an express revelation from the rationalist school;
and whether Paul ever received any revelation from Christ
or not, it is certain that Paulus or his friends must have
received some from St Paul.
But this is not all, or rather, it is a small part of what
must be admitted, if we resolve on getting rid of the super¬
natural, and yet leaving St Paul a man in his senses; or,
perhaps, it would be more proper to say, he must be sup¬
posed a much greater fool still, in order to leave him an
honest man.
Just then, at this fortunate nick of time, and while the
mind of the apostle is spontaneously softening towards Chris¬
tianity, a thunder-storm occurs,—one of those signal bless¬
ings, without which a rational interpreter of the New
Testament cannot get on for more than a few pages to¬
gether ; and the apostle strangely imagines that it lightens
revelations, and thunders in Syriac or Hebrew ; and though
very much frightened indeed, answers the Syriac or He¬
brew thunder in Syriac or Hebrew as grammatical as its
own; and is again replied to in another well articulated
clap of three or four sentences, directing him where to go
and what to do, in the coolest and most comprehensible
way. Surely if the lightning left Paul blind, it must have
made his hearing uncommonly acute !
Such is the natural way in which rationalists propose
to account for the apostle’s conversion, and yet leave him a
sincere and honest man ; but it surely leaves him not only
bereft of the light of his eyes, but of the light of his un¬
derstanding also,—as very an approach to downright idiocy
as any fanatic that ever lived. Can this be he who has
led the world astray, and turned it upside down ? Can
this subject of weak hallucinations be the man on whose
words so many intelligent, wise, and learned men of dif¬
ferent ages and countries have hung as the accents of
genuine inspiration ? Can this be he whose writings and
conduct everywhere proclaim zeal indeed, but a very
masculine understanding also,—great prudence, self-con¬
trol, and discretion ? Can this be he who is one of the closest
reasoners, and who, in the treatment of all practical ques¬
tions, exhibits a sobriety and justness of thinking which
have been the admiration of the world ?
Is it possible for a man to go on interpreting thus ? No
wonder that the rationalist hypotheses have become a thing
to point at. Nor is the Straussian theory, invented to sup¬
plant them, any better.
Who can believe, for example, that the intensely vivid
and natural scenes of the Gospels and the Acts are myths un¬
consciously growing out of incidents and associations con¬
nected with the Old Testament history ? Who can believe
that the myths thus formed (if any could have been formed
in such an historic age) would have been of so intensely
wrc-Jewish, or rather arc^'-Jewish, a character; that they
would have been characterized by such unity; but above
all, that they would have been swallowed by the world at
large as veritable history, and continue to be so received,
Paley.
P A L E Y.
204
Paley. though containing, if myths at all, marvels and wonders
^ in ^ more astounding than poet ever feigned !
It may be safely predicted, that Paley’s work will be still
read and admired long after these and other equally extra¬
vagant theories have passed into oblivion. The work is not,
as too often represented, confined to the “ External Evi¬
dences” alone,—much of it is given to the “ Internal” also ;
and the chapters on the Morality of the Gospel, on the
Identity and Originality of Christ’s Character, and on
Undesigned Coincidences, are equally full of force and
beauty.
The Hotcb Paulina is the work of Paley which displays
most originality. As to the works on Natural Theology and
the Evidences, it is in the general construction, the masterly
manner in which materials, for the most part already collected
by others, are built into a fabric, that the author’s inven¬
tiveness is chiefly seen. But the Horce Paidina is a feli¬
citous thought, felicitously wrought out. There is indeed
a pregnant passage of Doddridge, in which he speaks of
the reciprocal support which the undersigned coincidences
between the Acts and the Epistles give to the historic cre¬
dibility of both ; and another, still more general, in the
Pensees of Pascal, hinting a similar thought in relation to
the Gospels ; but there is no proof that Paley saw either;
while the extraordinary sagacity with which he has dragged
latent coincidences from their lurking places, and shown
correspondence where none had before suspected it, is all
his own. If he had seen such hints, it would as little have
abated his claims to originality, as the striking passage from
Origen, prefixed to the Analogy, detracts from Butler s.
But it was honest, as Sir J. Mackintosh says, in Butler
to place it there; and if Paley had really had his work
suggested by the passage in Doddridge, one would hope
that he would have done the like.
The greatest work of Paley, taking it altogether, is un¬
doubtedly his Natural Theology. It is true that Derham,
Ray, and others, had done much before him, just as Lard-
ner had been his pioneer in relation to the Evidences ; but Paley.
in either case previous writers were to Paley only what
Hiram, King of Tyre, was to Solomon ; they prepared the
materials, of which Paley reared the temple.1
Such is the skill with which the Natural Theology is
planned and executed—such the felicitous selection and dis¬
position of the materials—so apt are the examples and illus¬
trations—so luminous the expression—that, to a youth of
intelligence, few novels are more interesting. Paley’s sur¬
vey of the ground, too, and the limits within which he
resolved to construct the argument, show great logical
sagacity. Clearly seeing that if the immensely varied and
complicated “ adaptations” of the universe can be shown
to have originated in conscious intelligence, it will be diffi¬
cult not to grant all the concessions which theism asks
for; he avoids all the darker, especially the so-called &
priori methods, though freely leaving any such methods
open to those who choose to employ them, or who can
profit by them. He therefore bends his chief energies to
exhibit the indications of design in the universe, and for
this purpose ^nothing can be more judicious than his choice
of examples. Sagaciously perceiving that the phenomena
of astronomy, though best calculated to give comprehen¬
sive views of the power and wisdom of God, supposing
His existence admitted, are, from their vastness, apt rather
to confound than aid conception, and, from their compara¬
tive simplicity, less obviously the fruit of design, he takes
his chief examples from animal mechanism and physio¬
logy. His illustrations are drawn from 'ordinary objects,
from every-day life, from the road-side, and are expressed
in the most colloquial language. His descriptions of the
eye, of the joints, of the process of digestion, of the circula¬
tion, of the eye of the mole (“a pin-point in a cushion”),
of the contrivances for the lobster’s changing his shell (“ by
which he takes off his boots”), of the specific lightness of
the bones of birds (which he recommends the reader to
verify “ the next time he is engaged in picking the wing
it charge of comprehensive plagiarism was some years ago preferred against Paley. It was alleged that for the method,
illustrations of his Natural Theology he was mainly indebted to a work by Dr Bernard Nieuwenty t (a Dutch philosopher),
indebted for his “ argwment ” to Nieuwentyt. If indebted for anything, , . - * r % ; ..roil
was independent of the particular exemplification chosen, and might have been illustrated by half a dozen instruments of art just as weU.
It is not wonderful however, that the “ watch ” (at once so familiar and so well adapted to the purpose) should have been employed;
and if there is any special merit in first employing it, neither Nieuwentyt nor Paley can lay claim to that merit; it was employed,
for example, by John Howe in his Living Temple (part i., ch. iii.) for the same purpose of illustrating the argument from design. _
But certain coincidences of expression are also insisted on as tending to show that Paley had read the passage in Nieuwentyt. It is very
possible • for Paley refers to his work in one place, and thus shows that he did not wish to conceal that he had been hunting tor mate¬
rials there as well as in the works of Derham, Ray, and other writers, to whom, in general terms, he acknowledges his obligations.
But whoever reads the parallel passages in the two writers, and compares the tedious diffuseness of the one with the point and vigour
of the other, will feel, that if the particular illustration was suggested to Paley by the Dutchman, everything in the passage which one
would cur© to claim for Paley is still his. . ^ i* .
In fact it is absurd to charge Paley with plagiarism for having selected matter from other writers; his whole work proceeds on that
runposition • it is the manner in which he has employed his materials (in themselves common-place enough) that stamps his work as ori¬
ginal The* facts of science he deals with, he did not discover; he knew perfectly well that he must be indebted for every one of them to
others. But the same charge of plagiarism might be brought against any formal treatise either of science or history, for nine-tenths ol
thSuc^charge°^if’it'had any firce^airmight much more reasonably be brought against Paley for the use he has made of Derham and
Ray • for hegis’more indebted to these than to the Dutchman. But he who is at the trouble of comparing them with Paley will soon
find,’that though the materials must of necessity be much the same, the interval is wide enough to leave Paley s originality, in all that
18 If^anybod'y1 suspect^'that^de^has b^een indebted to Nieuwentyt for more than to Derham and Ray, we fancy a very slight inspection
of the will ^undeceive him. It is a work of considerable scientific attainment, considering the times ; but there x
neither just method nor co-ordination of parts in it; it rambles over the whole fie d of human knowledge ; it
exquisite tact in selecting and rejecting materials in relation to their aptness for he purpose it contains a great ^ny crudities and
J a few errors, both as^gard, fact and inference (the au.bor, for «amp.,, ,«suons tini ,r«.h_„f ‘^opejn.c^aeor^.nd doubt,
whether the doubt can ever
>r be decided) • while the style is for the most part diffuse to tediousness. We have no hesitation in saying,
that if, out of these three ill-compacted ’volumes, Paley had evoked such a work as his Natural Theology by selections, by rejections by
condensation, by re-arrangement, and by diffusing over the whole the vivid lights of his vigorous mind and style, his claims to ongi^
nality would have suffered as little abatement as that of Shakspeare (on whom a similar charge was once fastened) because in a few ot
his plays he has condescended to make use of materials of inferior dramatists, and turned by his magic touch their lead into gold _
The truth is, as just said, that the merit of Paley’s work is that of having wrought mater.als, open to everybody, into a beautiful fabric
and to blame him that his materials were got from other quarters is much as if it were charged upon a great architect that his stone
was not of his own quarrying, nor his bricks of his own burning. , , ., , . .  i„aa
The impress of Paley’s very peculiar mind is on this work as on all the rest, and would alone show that it was no p agians , f
P A L E Y.
Paley. of a chicken”) ; these, and many similar felicitous passages,
will immediately occur to every reader. Painting by words
has rarely been carried further than by Paley in many of
the graphic passages of this masterly treatise.1
The argument, as he says, and as we all know, is cumu¬
lative; and every new instance of adaptation augments our
conceptions oi the Divine power and wisdom; but the
'principle of the argument is as well established by fifty
examples as by five thousand, and to an ordinary under¬
standing is more likely to appear conclusive; for multi¬
plicity and complexity of “ adaptations ” will add nothing
to the clearness of the reasoning,' while they may easily
bewilder and confound. Particular examples must always
be taken ; and it may be doubted whether advancing sci¬
ence will ever find any, for ordinary readers, at once so
comprehensible and so much to the purpose as those Paley
has selected.
Equally just and cautious are the observations of Paley
on the mode in which the argument bears on the “ Divine
benevolence,” the transition to which, from the indications
of power and wisdom, is confessedly of some difficulty in the
theistic argument. Contending that the indications of the
former attributes are unlimited (whether illimitable or not)
in extent and variety, he contents himself with showing
that the immensely preponderant evidence, the direct and
obvious purpose of almost all the “adaptations” in nature,
indicates the Divine beneficence also. But he does not
deny or evade the difficulties of the subject. The widely-
extended phenomena of evil, for the permission of which
we must believe, but cannot see, that there are sufficient
reasons, will always limit the argument in this direction, till
we come to higher illumination than Reason alone affords us.
Various objections have been taken in these latter days
against Paley’s book, to which we must make a reference,
though it must be brief.
Some theists complain that he does not take other
methods—that he does not do this, that he does not do
that; that he does not appeal to man’s moral instincts, to
his intuitive convictions of a Deity, sense of the infinite,
and so on ; that he is busy rather about the “ means and
machinery ” by which the Deity works, than the “ ends for
which He works that he is more busy about the “ reasons
of belief,” than the “object of faith;”—with much more to
the same purpose, or rather to no purpose; for surely the
question ought to be, not what a theist can accept as a
sufficient dissertation on the Divine Existence and Perfec¬
tions, but what an atheist will find it most difficult to evade ;
nor, again, whether a theist may not prefer another line
of argument for himself, but whether he can suggest any
which an atheist will find it less difficult to understand and
embrace ;—in other words, whether Paley does what he in¬
tends to do, and whether what he intends to do, be, with
reference to those whom he addresses, the best adapted to
produce a conviction of the existence of a personal Intel¬
ligence that has constructed and presides over the universe.
If man can be brought to admit his argument, that one ad¬
mission will pave the way for every other involved in the or¬
dinary theory of theism. Nor, probably, was there ever a man
who, admitting that of all the stupendous and complicated
phenomena of the universe there has been an adequate
personal intelligent Cause, hesitated long to admit all the
corollaries to which his moral instincts, and the intimations
of the Infinite within him would train him on ; which then
and then alone, cease to be whispers, and become arti¬
culate. He would feel little difficulty in inferring that
this supreme Power and Intelligence were not only unli¬
mited, but illimitable; and though he could not prove it
(else he would be infinite himself), he would never doubt it. v
And even if any one, conceding a self-subsistent intelli¬
gent Cause of all things, possessed of power and wisdom
adequate to account for their existence and conservation,
were silly enough to deny His infinitude (of which, since his
whole faculties would be lost long before he could embrace
the dimensions of the attributes he did acknowledge, he could
never judge), there would still be a God to him—a being
known as such by the only proofs by which we can ever
practically know that there is a God at all; known as the
Creator, the Governor, the Disposer of all things. To us
that is infinite which is without limit; to demonstrate the
illimitable is beyond us ; and if to demonstrate that God
is infinite be necessary to a knowledge of Him, only God
can know that God exists at all.
Some will say there is no better way in this controversy
than that of appealing at once to a direct intuitive conscious¬
ness of an infinite God ? But what if atheists deny that they
have any such ? What if they affirm that if there be any
such voice within, it is, by itself, a whisper, or inarticulate?
What if the majority even of theists say that such whispers
are confirmations when made distinct, but are not first¬
hand grounds of conviction ? What if they say that their
convictions are so far dependent, at the very outset, on this
question of the “Order” of the universe, that supposing
confusion reigned in the natural world while the mind
retained all its present powers (were that possible), they
doubt whether any “ intuitions ” they have, would have
satisfied them of the existence of a Deity, or even induced
the faintest suspicion of one ?
However, if any think some other way, d priori or
otherwise, more effectual, Paley leaves people to take it.
For ourselves, we do not believe there is any mode of argu¬
ment so likely to meet the case of those who profess to be
atheists, nor one which gives them so much trouble to reply
to or evade. If any one choose to make the experiment with
other methods, he will find, we suspect, that considerations
which will well serve to enlarge, exalt, or intensify our belief,
when once Paley’s conclusions are admitted, are easily
evaded if insisted on alone. The argument from design is
the one which, in all ages and nations, has been the most
efficient for conviction,—the argument which, as the philoso¬
pher and the vulgar, the heathen and Christian feel, leaves
man “ without excuse,”—which gives point to the question,
equally understood by science and ignorance, “ He that
formed the eye, shall He not see ? He that planted the
ear, shall He not hear ?” “ The invisible things of God
from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being un¬
derstood by the things that are made, even His eternal
power and godhead.”
The argument from the moral constitution of man is in¬
deed equally strong, and more direct. But all one can do
is, to appeal to the atheist’s conscience ; and if he denies
that it is like ours, argument is at an end. And certainly
he is as able here as anywhere else to take refuge in chance
as accounting for moral as well as other phenomena; and
it must be added, that it is too often the part of his nature
with which man is most inclined to sophisticate.
Another objection recently taken up with much logical
formality by some theists, is, that not “ marks of design,”
as Paley urges, but “order” in the universe, is the great
point to be insisted on ; that it is this which renders the
argument valid. We cannot say we see much in the dis¬
tinction. That which gives force to the consideration of
“order” in the world is that also which gives force to
205
Paley.
all of them be so. We have said nothing about the moral improbability of Paley’s being consciously a plagiarist; but, considering the
entire character of the man’s intellect, it is about the last meanness of which we should suspect him.
Paley s homely science, in these and other passages of his great work, is beautifully illustrated in an article on the “ Works and
Character of Paley,” inserted in the Quarterly Review, vol. xxxviii., pp. 305-335.
206
P A L E Y.
Paley. “marks of designit is because what we call order indi-
—cates “ design ” that we so call it. A system which discloses
“order” must disclose adaptations of part to part, and of
subordinate parts to the whole, and therefore “ design.”
Another and more subtle objection is, that whether we
call that which justifies Paley’s conclusion the evidences of
“ order ” or “ marks of design,” “ Paley does not sufficiently
investigate the metaphysical principles of belief which impel
the human mind to infer intelligence from such indications.
It may perhaps be said that he considered this both be¬
yond his province, and not at all necessary. But it may
be affirmed, that man, in so inferring, acts upon the strictest
principles of induction, and, unless the very constitution of
his mind be altered, must, whether his conclusion be right
or ivrong, so infer. Man sees that in all the products of
intelligence he can examine, these marks of design are
found ; where intelligence, he is sure, does not act, he
sees the marks of design wanting. It is inevitable with
him, therefore, to think it infinitely probable, when he
meets with “ marks of design” in any object, that they
are due to intelligence, and not unconscious chance or
necessity, or unconscious anything else. If, to-morrow,
men met with any works as evidently designed for a pur¬
pose. as a watch or a steam-engine, but so completely be¬
yond any present development of human power as to cause
doubts of their human origin, and so unlike those of nature
as to cause doubt whether they had the same origin with
these, there is not one in a million who would not at
once infer that intelligence produced them, though what
sort of being it was in whom that intelligence resided,—
whether he had two heads or one, seven senses or ten, six
pairs of eyes or twenty,—we could not tell from the “ marks
of design” alone. Familiar with multitudinous products,
possessing certain similar characteristics, which are the fruit
of intelligence; and failing to see, where we know that
intelligence does not act, any such products; men would
at once infer, as the infinitely greater probability (and
this, on subjects where demonstration is impossible, is
to them certainty), that such newly-found specimens of
“adaptations” as w^e have above imagined, were due to intelli¬
gence; just as confidently as Robinson Crusoe inferred,
when he saw the solitary imprint of a footstep on the sand
(though he had seen no traces of anybody having been
on his island till that moment but himself), that it was a
print of a loot; and did not begin to speculate as to whether
it was not possible, though infinitely improbable, that some
chance motions of the winds and waves might have pro¬
duced the ominous impression. It is much the same with
the phenomena of nature. From what we know ol analogous
phenomena, we cannot but ascribe them to intelligence, if
we act on the principles of the inductive philosophy at all.
Hence, as before said,—whether the inference be right or
wrong,—thus men have always inferred, and thus they al¬
ways will; and so the atheistical hypothesis, even if true, is
certain of rejection. The evidence, though not demon¬
strative, is just as sure as that which leads us to believe
that if a man throws sixes fifty times running, the dice are
loaded. This, too, suggests the answer to another objec¬
tion, to which a passing allusion may be made. It is that
urged by Hume, and, with all his customary plausible
subtlety, before Paley wrote. He admits the validity ot
the ordinary mode of reasoning as applied to our fellow-
men, and to any works of theirs, but pretends that we can- Paley.
not reason similarly in relation to a work (if it be a work)
so unique as the universe; to effects so immeasurably be¬
yond our adequate comprehension. “ We have never seen,”
he says, “ the great Artificer at work.” The answer is
(as Chalmers and many more have justly said), that it is
not necessary that we should see “ the Artificer at work,” or
even comprehend his work as a whole. Men, in general,
reason just in the same way of that which exhibits indica¬
tions of purpose and design, whether they have ever “ seen
the artificer at work or not;” and would do so even if, in a
millionth case, such indications did not originate in design.
It will not be denied that they thus reason when they see
a machine or an instrument evidently so constructed as to
subserve a given purpose, though they may never have seen
one like it before, and though they may never have seen
any artist at work on any part of it. The atheist may say
they have seen analogous things done ; the answer is—Just
so: and men reason in the same way to the intelligent
origin of the works of creation. He will perhaps rejoin,
“But they have seen very similar things done.” We
answer, It may be, and sometimes is, the case, that there
is less similarity between certain iiiStruments of art and cer¬
tain other instruments of art,—lor example, an air-pump and
a microscope,—than between certain instruments of art and
certain instruments of nature, say an eye and a telescope ;
but the indications of design in the former case would be
quite sufficient to settle the question of an originating In¬
telligence ; why not in the latter ?
Another favourite argument of many modern atheists is,
that if any thing at all be inferred as to the attributes of an
unknown Cause of all things, from any analogies in our¬
selves, we must infer that God not only has power and wis¬
dom, but an organization also like ours; that he acts as we
do ; and that his power and wisdom must be manifested in
similar ways; so that between Hume’s argument and this,
it is impossible atheism should fail. “You can infer no¬
thing,” says Hume, “ respecting the author of a work so
unique.” “ If you infer anything analogous to man in Him,”
say these astute opponents, “ you must infer everything
analogous.”1 To this ridiculous argument it might be suffi¬
cient to ask whether, if a man saw an exact imitation of a
bird’s nest, without positively knowing it to be an imitation,
and so did not know w hether it was the work of a man or a
bird, he must infer that, because whoever made it must
have had some properties analogous to those of the bird
(otherwise there would not have been the same work), he
must necessarily have wings and feathers also !
The editions of Paley’s works, separately and collectively,
are numerous. The edition of the Natural Theology by Lord
Brougham and Sir Charles Bell is too well knowm to require
commendation. The fullest account of his life is that by
Meadley; but it is not worthy of its subject. (h. r.)
PALIANO, a town of the Papal States, in the province
ofFrosinone, 7 miles N.W. of Anagni, and 32 E.S.E.
of Rome. It is surrounded with walls of considerable
strength; and contains a large baronial castle, which was
for a long time occupied as a residence by the powerful
Colonna family. This family was descended from Pierre
Colonna, a vassal of the pope in the eleventh century, and
counted among its members Pope Martin V., as well as
numerous prelates and generals. Pop. about 4000.
1 Indeed, it is a favourite misrepresentation of theirs, that the language of writers on natural theology, in consistency with some sup¬
posed logical necessity, degrades the Deity into a laborious “ mechanic.” The answer, of course, is, that it is a mere misinterpretation
of the obvious meaning of these writers. All they mean to assert is, that there must be power and intelligence in the supreme Cause
of all, proportioned to the production of the phenomena ascribed to him; just as there must be in man, proportioned to the pheno¬
mena of his power and intelligence; but though, in expressing this, they necessarily use figurative language derived from the analogy
of man’s nature, they plainly do not intend to imply that the modes in which wisdom and intelligence on the part of God and man are
respectively exerted or manifested are the same ; or that what is long-sought, laborious, and successive in man’s mind is at all so in God s.
And as this is the meaning of these writers, and their sole meaning, so it may be doubted whether there ever was an atheist who really
misunderstood it.
207
PALIMPSESTS.
Palimp- Palimpsest (in Greek iraAt/^oTos, a word formed from
8ests- ttoXlv, again, and i/'aou, I wipe, cleanse, or rub), is a term
applied to a manuscript, from its having been twice cleaned or
twice prepared for writing. The name has been sup¬
posed by some etymologists to be derived from the oblitera¬
tion or erasure of the original writing; but it is ratherfounded
upon the re-polishing (i/'aw), or re-preparation for writing,
of the parchment or other material on which the original
had been written. It is easy to remove the traces of writ¬
ing from parchment by rubbing it with pumice-stone or
some similar substance, especially if the writing be of some
antiquity; and if the surface be afterwards smoothed and
polished, no one, by merely looking at it, would suppose
that it had ever been written on. The practice of thus
preparing parchment and other writing materials a second
time for use existed among the ancients; and the material
so re-prepared was known by them under the same name of
palimpsest; but they also applied that term to leaves or
books which were so prepared that one writing could easily
be expunged to make room for another, and which were
used by authors for correcting their works or submitting
them to revision. In this sense palimpsests are mentioned
by Cicero, Plutarch, and Catullus. Cicero {Ad Familiares,
vii. 18) praises the frugality of his friend Trebatius in writ¬
ing upon a palimpsest, but at the same time playfully ex¬
presses his wonder as to what may have been the original
writimg, which could have been of less importance than
the letter for which it had been displaced; and Catullus
(xxii. 5) ridicules a bad author for not writing his works at
first on palimpsests, but entering them at once, crude and
uncorrected, in fine and costly books. In a word, the
palimpsest alluded to in these and similar ancient authorities
was one of the devices to supply the place of the modern
slate or scribbling-book, and served the same purpose as the
wax tablet {tabula cerata).
There seems little doubt, however, that, besides this tem¬
porary expedient, the practice of preparing parchment or
papyrus a second time for permanent use, and of writing
short pieces, and even entire books, upon such material, was
well known in classic times, not only among the Greeks
and Romans, but also among the Egyptians. (Wilkinson’s
Egyptians, iii. 151.) But when it is remembered that, ex¬
cept the charred papyri of Herculaneum, and the funereal
rolls of the Egyptians, no actual remains of the writing of
the ancients have reached our time, it need hardly be said
that no palimpsest re-written in the classic period has yet
been discovered.1
The palimpsest manuscripts which have proved so valu¬
able a mine for the research of modern scholars are of more
recent date, and had their origin in the dearness and scarcity
of wiiting materials from the seventh century downwards.
During the early Roman empire, the comparatively abund¬
ant supply of papyrus from the Egyptian market precluded
the necessity of having recourse to what was, at best, the
tedious and clumsy process of re-preparing the material al¬
ready used ; and from the time when Theodoric the Great,
in the beginning of the sixth century, abolished the duty on
the importation of papyrus, the scribes and copyists of the
West confined themselves in great measure to its use, except
for more solemn and important documents. But at a later Palimp-
period, when the complete division of the empire rendered Bests,
the intercourse with the East at once difficult and irregular, ■
the old expedient was revived ; and as, in the anarchy con¬
sequent on the successive occupations of Italy by its bar¬
barous conquerors, the ancient arts and manufactures fell
into decay, and the home production of parchment became
exceedingly limited, it came to pass at last, when the Saracen
conquest of Syria and of Egypt deprived Europe entirely of
the papyrus, that the art of cleaning and re-preparing parch¬
ment already written upon furnished almost the only writ¬
ing material sufficiently cheap for the uses of the less opu¬
lent copyists of the West. And hence it is that the practice
of copying upon re-prepared parchment, if we are to judge
from the specimens which have reached our time, came
into use at a somewhat earlier period in the western division
of the empire, where the want of the papyrus was earlier
felt. Re-written Latin manuscripts are met with which ap¬
pear to have been re-transcribed so early as the eighth, and
even the seventh century ; but in the Greek palimpsests the
second writing commonly dates no earlier than the eleventh,
and even the twelfth or thirteenth century. It has com¬
monly been supposed that this practice of the mediaeval
scribes was the occasion of a vast and reckless sacrifice of
ancient manuscript; and many writers have ascribed to the
demand which it occasioned, coupled with the imputed indif¬
ference, and even hostility of the period towards ancient
learning, that wholesale disappearance of so many Greek and
Roman classics which modern scholars have to deplore. But
the palimpsest manuscripts hitherto discovered furnish little
evidence of any intentional destruction of perfect ancient
writings. All the remains of Greek and Roman literature
contained in the very largest palimpsests which have been
deciphered, or which are known to exist, are in so miser¬
ably mutilated and fragmentary a condition, as to suggest, in
most instances, the belief that, when broken up for the pur¬
pose of being re-used", the originals were already imper¬
fect, and perhaps cast aside as useless. Bruns’ palimpsest
of Livy contained only a fragment of the ninety-first book ;
the re-written manuscript of Pliny’s Natural History, dis¬
covered by Mone, has but a small portion of a few of the
early books ; Pertz’s Granus Licinianus is but a scrap ; and
apalimpsest of St Jerome’s Commentary, mentioned by Mone
{Lateinische und GriechischeMessen, 162), contains parts of
no fewer than seven different works. Even the larger and
more important palimpsests deciphered by Mai,—the Cicero
De Republica, the Plautus, and the great palimpsest of the
historians,—are all unhappily in such a state of imperfec¬
tion, as to make it impossible to suppose that the copies of
the original authors on which the transcriber laid his hand
were other than fragments, already of little value from their
defective condition. Some palimpsests, indeed, are made
up of miscellaneous fragments from isolated leaves of dif¬
ferent writers, seemingly little better than the refuse of some
book-shop or library.
But, whatever may have been the condition of the ori¬
ginals which were selected for re-transcription by the me¬
diaeval copyists, even the fragments of ancient writing which
they have thus been unconsciously instrumental in preserv-
a relic °f that time, of equally, or even more perishable material, has been preserved. In the year 1840 two ancient waxen
a e s (dating from a.d. 169) were discovered in a state of high preservation—one in a gold mine in the village of Abrudbanya in
r^hSH ot^er ln t*le iromediate vicinity, with the wax and the characters inscribed upon it almost perfect. They are de-
- h Th ' ^assnlann a dissertation published at Leipsic in 1841. The tablets are of the triptych form—one of fir, the other of
eec . heir form and construction exactly answer to the description of the tabulce ceratce given by our antiquarians, but the writing
UP°n. ^tn,fUIJ5 ^r0ln right to left, beginning upon what we should call the last page, and ending at the bottom of the third. See also an
ar ic e by Dr Detlessen in the Sitzungs-lerichte der Kaiserl. Academic der WUsenschafcen, vol. xxiii., pp. 601 and following.
208 PALIMPSESTS.
Palimp- ing are unquestionably of deep interest, and in many cases
sests. of great value, for the modern cultivators of ancient learn-
wing. With the profound and far-seeing critical sagacity
which distinguished him, Montfau^on {Palreographia Gr&ca,
p. 223) early called attention to the fruits which might be
expected from a careful examination of these buried trea¬
sures ; nor has the exploration (although it has not resulted
in the recovery of any complete work of antiquity) disap¬
pointed his expectations. The labours of the learned in
this department have already resulted in many great dis¬
coveries, and have given promise of. many more. Some
invaluable fragments of ancient works, believed to be entirely
lost, have already been recovered; and the hopes which
may fairly be entertained of future acquisitions from the same
source will best be estimated by a short account of what
has actually been effected within the present century.
The value of ancient manuscripts has long been rightly
appreciated; and hence in every part ot Europe they have
been collected at great expense, and preserved with the
utmost care. For some time after the invention of print¬
ing it was indeed thought that, when the contents of a
manuscript had been copied, and multiplied by means of
that invaluable art, the original was rendered useless. But,
as different manuscripts of the same work often vary in par¬
ticular readings, it was soon found necessary to examine
and collate a number of them, in order to ascertain the pre¬
ferable readings ; and without this previous care, conjoined
with critical discrimination, a new edition of an ancient
work would not now be well received by the learned. Such,
then, is the most direct and obvious use of ancient manu¬
scripts ; which, when duly collated, furnish the means of
restoring texts that had been corrupted or mutilated in the
course of frequent transcription.
But, on a more minute examination of a certain class of
manuscripts, it appeared that some of them might have a
value hitherto unsuspected, by supplying more ancient
copies than were previously known, and even furnishing
portions of important works which were supposed to be
entirely lost. These were manuscripts in which the at¬
tempt to obliterate some more ancient writing, in order
that the parchment might be again used to receive another
work, had been so far ineffectual that traces of the ancient
writing still remained discernible, and capable of being
partially or entirely deciphered by the patience and in¬
genuity of literary explorers. Certain manuscripts of re¬
spectable antiquity were thus found to conceal others several
centuries older, and frequently of much superior interest
and value. The number of such manuscripts, or portions
of manuscripts, which existed in the several great libraries
of Europe must have been very considerable. One^of the
earliest editions of the Clementine Constitutions (1476) was
actually printed on palimpsest parchment. Many have been
preserved in our own time; and a fresh impulse has been
recently given to the zeal of the learned by the interesting
discovery, that many of the long-neglected manuscripts of
the churches and monasteries of the Levant are of the same
palimpsest class. The character and appearance of different
palimpsests differ very considerably. In some the ancient
writing has been so imperfectly effaced, whether by wash¬
ing, or by rubbing with pumice-stone or some similar sub¬
stance, that the more modern writing interferes but little
with the distinctness of the original; so that it may be de¬
ciphered by a practised eye, or at least can be so far re¬
vived by certain simple applications, and by exposure to the
light, as to he read with little difficulty. In others, how¬
ever, in which, besides the sponge and the pumice-stone,
the scraping-knife had been freely used, it is only by the
use of very powerful chemical agents, which shall be de¬
scribed hereafter, and by the aid of strong lightfand lenses
of considerable magnifying power, that the contents can be
discovered. In some palimpsests the modern scribe has
exactly preserved the form of the ancient sheet, and has Palimp-
divided his pages in the same manner; but, more com- sests.
monly, the new writing exhibits an entire disregard of the v—'
order of the original. Sometimes, where the original page
was divided into two or three columns, the modern matter
is written over them all in one unbroken line ; sometimes
the original sheet is folded double, or even cut in half;
sometimes the page is turned upside down ; sometimes the
new writing runs diagonally across it; sometimes (most
perplexing of all) it follows closely line for line, and even
letter for letter, the tracks of the original, so that the cha¬
racters blend and run into each other, and the distinction
between new and old is only discernible from the uncertain
test of the different colour of the inks, or of the diversity of
the form of the characters. These difficulties are tenfold
exaggerated where the characters of the original were
minute, and where the modern writing is of the same size
and in the same language. We shall see examples here¬
after in which the original has been twice written upon ;
and others in which, if we reckon corrections, no fewer
than four different writings are found in the same palimpsest.
In the ages which immediately succeeded the invention
of printing, the attention of scholars was so engrossed by the
numberless manuscripts of ancient authors which abounded
in all the great centres of learning, that the hidden stores
of palimpsest literature were unobserved or disregarded.
But so soon as the first harvest, so to speak, had been
gathered in, and men began to prize even the gleanings
which had escaped the early labourers, the value of these
buried treasures did not long remain unnoticed. It is true
that, as has been already observed, all the palimpsests hitherto
discovered have been but fragments, and that a large pro¬
portion of them consist of works previously known in a
much more complete form. But it will be seen, neverthe¬
less, that, even already, several of those which have been
deciphered have contributed to fill up a very considerable
gap in the lost literature of the ancient world ; and even
those which contain works already known and published
have this important advantage for the purpose of criticism,
that they supply copies of these works earlier by several cen¬
turies than the very earliest of the original manuscripts of the
same works already in existence. The immense importance
of this circumstance, especially for the uses of the biblical
critic, it is impossible to overrate.
The fruits which may yet be anticipated from the full de¬
velopment of these curious and interesting researches will be
best understood from a short history of the successes which
have been already obtained. For the sake of clearness, we
shall consider—Sacred palimpsests ; and, secondly.
Palimpsests in profane literature.
I. By far the most important relics of the first class are BiWionl
the Biblical Palimpsests. palimpsestt
The first rescribed biblical manuscript of which any im¬
portant use was made appears to have been Codex Ephremi,
or Codex Regius of Paris. The more modern writing in this
manuscript contains certain works of St Ephrem the Syrian, in
Greek ; the more ancient seems to have contained the whole
of the Old and New Testament, in a character and style of
Greek writing which Dr Tischendorf of Leipsic assigns to the
fifth century. Of this manuscript there are 209 leaves re¬
maining, 145 of which belong to the New Testament, and
comprehend nearly two-thirds of the entire text; but the
leaves appeared to the first explorers so miserably confused
and misplaced, and with so many chasms of various kinds, that
sometimes scarcely a word could be deciphered in a whole
leaf. Nevertheless, the difficulties occasioned by these de¬
fects and mutilations have not deterred critics from endea¬
vouring to make the most of the Codex Ephremi. It was
first observed and examined by Jean Boivin, from whom
Kiister obtained several important readings, which he in¬
serted in his reprint of Mill’s Greek Testament in 1710;
PALIMPSESTS.
Palimp- and Wetstein afterwards, at the instance of Bentley, col-
sests. lated with great diligence all that it contains of the text
of the New Testament. Griesbach considers this as the most
ancient manuscript collated by Wetstein ; and there can be
no doubt that the readings thus obtained confer a particular
value on his edition. For a long time, however, nothing of
real importance was done in the work of deciphering it; but
at last, in 1834-5, M. Hase, by the use of a chemical prepara¬
tion known by the name tinctura Giobertina, succeeded in
reviving the ancient writing to a degree far beyond the
expectation of the first explorers; and in 1840-1 Dr
Tischendorf devoted himself to the task of preparing for
publication the New Testament fragments, which he finally
accomplished in 1843. In 1845 he completed the work
by the addition of those fragments of the Old Testament
which are contained in the palimpsest. An additional source
of the interest and the value which attach to this curious
palimpsest is the circumstance that, previously to its being
turned to its modern use by the transcriber of St Ephrem in
the thirteenth century, the original had undergone three dis¬
tinct corrections, by different hands and at remote intervals,
in the sixth, ninth, and eleventh or twelfth centuries ; most of
which corrections are still distinctly traceable, and supply an
interesting practical commentary on the history of the text.
The next discovery amongst manuscripts of this description
was one of a very interesting kind. Ulphilas, bishop of the
Goths in the fourth century, is known to have translated the
whole Scriptures into the language of that people, who had
lapsed into Arianism. For this purpose he invented for them
a new character, consisting of letters borrowed chiefly from
the Greek. This work, however, had long been lost, with
the exception only of the part containing the four Gospels,
which is preserved in the University Library at Upsal, in a ma¬
nuscript called Codex Argenteus, from being written chiefly
in letters of silver. But in the year 1755, F. A. Kriittel,
having been appointed archdeacon of Wolfenbiittel, began
to explore the treasures contained in the Augustan Library
in that city ; and in the courseof his researches a palimpsest
manuscript1 of the Origines of Isidorus of Seville was pointed
out to him as containing, under that writing, the translation
of the Epistle to the Romans by Ulphilas, together with two
other Greek fragments of the Gospels. The first of these
(known to biblical critics as the Codex Guelpherbytanus A)
consisted of forty-three leaves containing parts of each of
the four Gospels. It is believed to be of the sixth century,
and its readings have been highly valued. The second (called
Codex Guelpherbytanus B) consisted of thirteen leaves
containing parts of St Luke and of St John. It seems to
be of the same period with the last. Knittel’s interest,
however, was principally fixed on the fragment of Ulphilas.
On examination, it proved that the manuscript did not con¬
tain the whole Epistle to the Romans, but only a portion of
the latter part, viz., the eleventh and following chapters, as
far as the thirteenth verse of the fifteenth, accompanied by
a Latin version written in parallel columns, which is in
itself of no slight interest, as it is earlier than the revision of
the Vulgate by St Jerome. Knittel immediately set himself
to work on this curious fragment; and although, from the
state of the leaves to be deciphered, the difficulty of the task
was great, yet his zeal carried him through ; and towards the
end of the year 1758 he announced the intended publication
by subscription. Various obstacles, however, retarded its
appearance till the year 1762, when the laborious decipherer
was enabled to publish the whole in quarto, with twelve
large plates, accompanied by an account of the manuscript,
and copious illustrations of its contents. The diligence of
Knittel omitted nothing that could render useful the re-
209
covered fragments both of the two Greek manuscripts and Palimp-
of the Gothic version. The latter, in particular, he care- Bests-
fully compared with the Codex Argenteus at Upsal, and
ascertained that the Wolfenbiittel palimpsest did not form
part of the same, but only of a similar manuscript. From
the different fragments he extracted all the various readings.
These fragments were reprinted by Busching in 1773, and
by Zahn in 1805. But by far the most important contribution
to our knowledge of the version was made in 1817 and the
following years, by the celebrated Angelo Mai (of whom
we shall have occasion to speak more at large under the
head of “ Classical Palimpsests”), and his friend and fellow-
labourer, Count Carlo Castiglione, from five different palimp¬
sests discovered by Mai in the Ambrosian Library at Milan,
and containing, under modern transcripts of various au¬
thors,— St Gregory the Great, St Jerome, Plautus, Seneca,
and the Acts of the Council of Chalcedon,—nearly four hun¬
dred pages of fragments of the Gothic version of the Epis¬
tles of St Paul, of the Gospel of St Matthew, and some of
the books of the Old Testament. All the fragments of this
version, from whatever source, were collected into the
edition of Gabelentz and Lobe, which appeared in succes¬
sive parts at Leipsic, from 1836 to 1845 ; and a complete
critical edition has still more recently been published by
Dr Massmann (Stuttgart, 1855). The next in the order
of time among the biblical palimpsests is that of Dr Bar¬
rett of Trinity College, Dublin ; an elegant volume (Dub¬
lin, 1801), containing a great part of the Gospel of St
Matthew, copied from a rescribed manuscript in the library
of that college. This palimpsest appears to have been re¬
written in the twelfth or thirteenth century upon portions
of much more ancient books. The most important of these,
however, was the portion which contained the copy of St
Matthew’s Gospel, whereof this fragment remained, written
in uncial letters; and, judging by the usual marks of an¬
tiquity, it seems to belong at least to the sixth century. A
part of Isaiah in Greek, and some of the Orations of Gre¬
gory Nazianzen, were likewise found in it, but were con¬
sidered as of less moment. What remains of St Matthew’s
Gospel is printed on sixty-four engraved fac-simile plates,
each representing a page of the manuscript, and containing
from twenty-one to twenty-three lines, disposed in a single
column, with the text in the ordinary Greek character upon
the opposite page. This valuable fragment commences
with part of the genealogy, at verse 17, chapter i., and ex¬
tends, with occasional chasms, to chapter xxvi., verse 71 ;
and it is also represented in an equal number of pages
printed in the ordinary Greek character. Copious prole¬
gomena are prefixed, giving an exact account of the state
and characters of the manuscript; and subjoined is a care¬
ful collation of the Codex Montfortianus, in the same
library, wdth Wetstein’s edition. Unfortunately, however,
the text, as printed in the ordinary Greek characters, is
by no means a perfectly accurate transcript of the en¬
graved plates ; and this circumstance, as well as the de¬
fective condition of many of the pages, having created a
general desire for the re-examination of the Dublin pa¬
limpsest, Dr Tregelles, in 1853, by the aid of active che¬
mical agents devised by more modern manipulators, suc¬
ceeded in bringing to light “ all the older writing, hardly
even a letter excepted.” It is to be regretted, however,
that, in the re-binding of the manuscript since its pub¬
lication by Dr Barrett, some portions of the ancient writ¬
ings have been lost, through the efforts of the ignorant
workman to give an air of neatness to the volume, by
squaring the leaves and paring them to an even edge.
By far the most important discovery in modern biblical
This manuscript is the celebrated Codex Carolinus. Its acquisition by the Wolfenbiittel Library is comparatively recent. But
Cardinal Mai (Classici Auctores, i. 43) claims it, on the authority of Niebuhr and on intrinsic evidence, as once the property of the mo¬
nastery of Bobbio, one of the many colonies of the early Irish monks in Italy, Switzerland, Southern Germany, and Prance.
VOL. XVII.
2 TO
210 PALIMPSESTS.
Palimp- palimpsest literature, is that of the palimpsests comprised
sests- in the collection of manuscripts recently collected from
the monastic libraries of the Levant, and deposited in the
British Museum and the Bibliotheque Imperiale at Paris.
In one of these (known as the Codex Nitriensis, from
the monastery of St Mary Deipara, in the desert of Nitria,
whence it was obtained) Dr Cureton discovered (besides a
most valuable fragment of the Iliad, of w'hich we shall
speak later) forty-five leaves containing fragments of the
Gospel of St Luke, over which had been written a Syriac
translation of the Monophysite treatise of Severus of An¬
tioch against Grammaticus. The later writing was so heavy
and so black, and the erasure of the original had been so
successful, that it was exceedingly difficult to decipher it;
but it was successfully collated in 1854 by Dr Tregelles,
and was prepared by him for publication, had he not been
anticipated by Dr Tischendorf in the collection to be de¬
scribed hereafter. These fragments are believed to be of the
sixth century, and even of the early part of that century.
Another Syriac manuscript, in the British Museum, ex¬
amined by him, containsa fewpalimpsest leaves, which are of
extreme antiquity, and the under writing of which consists
of fragments of St John’s Gospel. The Greek characters
resemble very closely those of the well-known Codex Va-
ticanus ; and the Greek original of the palimpsest is espe¬
cially curious, as having been at least twice written over in
Syriac ; so that it belongs to the class (of which we shall
see two other examples) of thrice-written manuscripts.
No modern biblical editor, indeed, has laboured in the
field of palimpsest literature with such perseverance and
with such success as Dr Tischendorf. In addition to his
re-collations and reprints of almost all the most valuable
early editions of the sacred texts, he has, with infinite in¬
dustry and research, given to the public many most curious
and valuable fragments of the Old and New Testaments,
collected by himself from palimpsest sources. A few of
these are of western origin ; but the greater and much
more important portion is from the Syriac and Armenian
palimpsests of the collection already described. They are
for the most part contained in his magnificent publication,
Monumenta Sacra Inedita, vol. i., 1855, vol. ii., 1857. The
first, volume is entitled Fragmenta Sacra Palimpsesta ; sive
Fragmenta cum Novi turn Veteris Testamenti ex quinque
Codicihus Greeds Palimpsestis antiquissimis nuperrime
in Orienle repertis. Addita sunt Fragmenta Psalmorum
Papyracea, et Fragmenta Evangelistariorum Palimpsesta ;
item Fragrnentum Codicis Frederico-Augustani, nunc pri-
mum emit atque edidit GEnoth. Frid. Const. Tischendorf,
Lipsiae, 1855. This most beautiful volume consists of frag¬
ments deciphered from seven palimpsests, of which five were
brought from the East: one is preserved in the Barberini Li¬
brary at Rome, and one in the Library of St Mark’s at Venice.
The first, the modern writing of which is Armenian, contains
forty-eight pages of fragments of the New Testament—of
the Gospels, of the Acts, and of the Epistles of St Paul to the
Corinthians and to Titus. The second, under some Greek
lives of saints and a homily of John of Damascus, contains
large fragments of the book of Numbers and some portions
of Isaiah. The third, in which the modern writing consists
of the lives of four saints—Euthymius, Sabas, Abram, and
Theodosius—in Arabic, contains fragments of Numbers,
Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Kings, and Isaiah ; and the
fourth and fifth, which were both re-written in Armenian,
contain other fragments of the books of Kings. Dr Tisch-
endorf’s second volume is entitled Fragmenta Evangeln
Lucce et Libri Genesis, ex tribus Codd. Greeds, quinti,
sexti, octavi sceculi; uno Palimpsesto ex Libya in Museeum
Britannicum advecto; altero celeberrimo Cottoniano ex
Flammis erepto ; tertioex Oriente nuperrime Oxonium per-
lato, Lipsiae, 1857. The most important among the con¬
tents of this volume are the fragments of St Luke’s Gospel,
already referred to as discovered by Dr Cureton in the Palimp.
Codex Nitriensis. They extend to ninety-five pages. The sesta.
volume also contains fragments of the Gospel of St John,
from a palimpsest, re-written, with some hymns of Severus
the Monophysite, in Syriac; a few pages of Ezekiel, also
from a Syriac palimpsest; and two pages of the third book of
Kings, from a palimpsest partly Coptic and partly Syriac.
Such are the most remarkable contributions to the ori¬
ginal text of sacred Scripture from palimpsest sources.
These contributions are in all likelihood but an earnest of
what may yet be anticipated ; but even these are of a
value which only scholars who are acquainted with the
limited extent of the ancient sources of biblical criticism
now available can fully appreciate. Perhaps, out of all the
existing manuscripts of the original texts, the Codex Vati-
canus and the Codex Alexandrinus are the only ones
which exceed in antiquity some of the precious fragments
thus unexpectedly recovered. We need hardly add that,
unlike most other originals, every scrap of the sacred text,
however minute, possesses a value of its own, entirely in¬
dependent of the context or connection ; and, therefore,
that no fragment, however minute or however mutilated,
can be overlooked by a biblical critic who is animated by
the true spirit of his craft.
Of the other sacred palimpsests which have been as yet
made public, the most important are a series of fragments
of the early liturgies, both of the Greek and of the Latin
churches, discovered in the library at Karlsruhe, in a ma¬
nuscript re-written with St Jerome’s Commentary on the
Gospel of St Matthew. These interesting remains were
published (with a fac-simile) by Francis Joseph Mone at
Frankfort in 1850 (Lateinische und Griechische Messen,
aus dem zweiten bis sechsten Jahrhundert). Many other
fragments of the same character—liturgies, sacramentaries,
rituals, canons, homilies, &c.—are known to exist. A few of
them have been published by the same editor and by Cardinal
Mai ; and much information on the obscure but important
subject of the early liturgies may be expected from a com¬
plete and careful examination and comparison of them all.
II. In ancient profane literature the additions from pa- classical
limpsest sources have been much more numerous and con- palimpsests
siderable, consisting of large fragments of lost Greek and&c.
Roman classics, and of the text, and commentaries on the
text, of ancient Roman law.
The first editor of a palimpsest relic of classical literature Bruns,
was Paul James Bruns, the coadjutor of Dr Kennicott in
his great work of Hebrew collation. In 1773 Bruns dis¬
covered at Rome a fragment of the ninety-first book of
Livy, in a rescribed manuscript of the Vatican collection ;
and in the same year it was published by the discoverer
himself at Hamburg, and by Signor Giovenazzi at Rome.
The fragment in question, which has been admitted as un¬
doubtedly genuine into the later editions of Livy, contains
part of the war with Sertorius in Spain ; and the only sub¬
ject of regret is, that this part is so small. Bruns first
visited the Vatican on a mission from Dr Kennicott in re¬
ference to Hebrew collation ; but having been thus for¬
tunate in the investigation of a palimpsest, he renewed the
inquiry in this country, and endeavoured to ascertain the
number of such manuscripts in the Bodleian Library at
Oxford. An account of his researches will be found in the
Literary Annals of Helmstadt, which appear to have been
conducted by Bruns during the years 1782, 1783, and
1784. A small portion ot the ninety-first book of Livy,
which Bruns failed in reading from the manuscript, was after¬
wards successfully deciphered by Niebuhr, who alsosupplied
some other deficiencies, and published the entire book, to¬
gether with another Ciceronian fragment, at Berlin in 1820.
It remained, however, for another distinguished labourer Ma._
in the new and interesting field of inquiry which had thusx
been indicated rather than explored, to surpass all his pre-
PALIMPSESTS.
Palimp¬
sests.
decessors and contemporaries, not only in discovering re¬
scribed manuscripts, but also in extracting from them works
or parts of works which were long considered as irrecover¬
ably lost. We allude, of course, to the Abate Angelo Mai,
doctor of the Ambrosian Library at Milan, afterwards first
keeper of the Vatican, and finally (1838) cardinal librarian
of the Roman Church, whose researches in this department
were so extensive and important that he may truly be called
the hero of palimpsests, and the discoverer of a new world
of letters. (See Mai.) It was not till the year 1814 that
Monsignore Mai made himself known by the partial disco¬
very of lost works. A year earlier, indeed, he had em-
• ployed himself in translating a large portion of the oration
of Isocrates De Permutatione, which Mystoxides, a learned
Greek, had published from a manuscript in the Ambrosian
Library more perfect than any of the codices which had
been followed by the editors of Isocrates. The quantity
thus inserted in the oration increased it by at least one-
half; and the same additional matter has since been found
in some of the Vatican manuscripts. In publishing this
translation, however, Mai modestly continued anonymous.
But his name was destined soon to be illustrated by far
more important labours.
L His researches amongst palimpsest manuscripts com¬
menced with certain hitherto unpublished fragments of
three orations of Cicero, namely, those for Scaurus, Tullius,
and Flaccus. These orations had been written in a quarto
form, but had been partly erased and folded into an octavo
size to give place to the sacred poetry of Sedulius. The
newer writing was judged to be as old as the eighth cen¬
tury, and the original to be not later than the second or
third. The manuscript had belonged to a very ancient
monastery at Bobium, or Bobbio, in the Milanese, founded
by St Columban, who had also formed its library; and in
the collection obtained from the same venerable institution
the greatest part of the rescribed manuscripts has been dis¬
covered. “ In examining carefully some manuscripts in
the Ambrosian Library at Milan,” says Mai in his preface,
“ I observed that one of great antiquity was a palimpsest.
This manuscript had belonged to the convent of Bobbio, a
monastery in Liguria, situated in the midst of the Apen¬
nines, which was founded by St Columban in the year 612,
and the monks of which obtained considerable reputation
for learning as well as sanctity. Gerbert, a Frenchman by
birth, who became pope under the name of Silvester IL,
and attained so much celebrity for learning that he is one
of those who, in the rude popular tale, are reported to have
sold their souls to the devil, was head of this monastery in
the tenth century, and added greatly to the reputation of
the place, as well as to the contents of the library. The
Cardinal Frederigo Borromeo, who founded the Ambrosian
Library at the beginning of the seventeenth century, pur¬
chased the principal part of the collection at Bobbio and
brought it to Milan. Whilst I was examining these manu¬
scripts,” he adds, “ I remarked that one, which contained
some of the writings of Sedulius, a Christian poet, was a
palimpsest; and on looking very closely and attentively I
discovered traces of the former writing under the latter.”
He then read the titles, pro Scauro, pro Tullio, and pro
rlucco, and was able, with some trouble, to decipher the
w 10 e of the fragments of these three lost orations, written
T .^rSe anci very beautiful characters, each page being
divided into three columns. The oration for Scaurus was
accompanied by scholia, elegantly written in small letters
o a squaie form ; and there were others in characters of a
inc ei orm, but still ancie nt. These three fragments, to-
ge erwiti the scholia (which Mai considers the produc¬
tion ot Asconius Pedianus), were published at Milan, 1814,
in one volume 8vo.
2. In the course of the same year Monsignore Mai pro-
uce a second volume, containing various fragments of
three other orations of Cicero, with some ancient annota¬
tions and commentaries never before published. The por¬
tions thus recovered belonged to the orations against Clo-
dius and Curio ; to that De JEre alieno Milonis / and to the
oration De Rege Ptolemceo. Of the oration De JEre alieno
Milonis no other fragment was known until this discovery.
These treasures had lain concealed under a Latin transla¬
tion of the Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, and were
adjudged by the discoverer to belong to the fourth cen¬
tury. The palimpsest from which they were discovered
had formed part of the collection obtained from Bobbio.
The older writing was in very large and handsome charac¬
ters, but less beautiful than that which contained the frag¬
ments of the three orations mentioned in the preceding
paragraph ; and there were only two columns in each page,
a circumstance which seems to indicate that the writing is
somewhat less ancient. The contents of these two volumes
the learned editor afterwards united into one, which he pub¬
lished in 1817, with corrections of the fragments that had
first appeared, and some additional notes and illustrations.
The great antiquity of the practice of rescription is suffi¬
ciently attested by these various fragments of Cicero’s ora¬
tions ; indeed it is supposed that the speech for Scaurus
was obliterated in the eighth century. But Latin manu¬
scripts appear to have been more frequently subjected to
this treatment than Greek manuscripts, or those in any
other language. It is true, that in the “ Collection of
Greek Papyri from the British Museum,” there is an an¬
cient palimpsest papyrus, in which the original was the en¬
chorial Egyptian, and the second writing is Greek. But
this is a very rare instance ; and even of this papyrus, it
would be difficult to show that the date of the second
writing is earlier than that assigned to the earliest Latin
palimpsests.
3. The year 1815 proved very rich in discovery, and
gave birth to no fewer than three volumes of unpublished
works. One of these is peculiarly valuable and curious, as
containing large portions of several orations of Symmachus,
in whom, as Mai expresses it, breathed the last inspiration
of Roman eloquence. The epistles of this famous orator
were the only productions of his pen previously extant;
but in these recovered fragments we have a copious speci¬
men of his eloquence in two panegyrics on Valentinian,
one on Gratian, a gratulation addressed to the father of the
orator on his being appointed consul, and parts of several
other works of the same kind, making eight in all. Mai
likewise deciphered a portion of a panegyric of the younger
Pliny which was contained in the same palimpsest, but of
which only the various readings are here given. The ori¬
ginal manuscript is supposed to have belonged to the seventh
or eighth century. These interesting fragments were re¬
printed at Frankfort in 1816 in one vol. 8vo.
4. The same year another very ancient palimpsest was
found in the Ambrosian Library, containing all the come¬
dies of Plautus which have reached us, except four ; and a
fragment of the Vidularia, a lost comedy, of which all that
previously remained consisted of about twenty lines, pre¬
served by Priscian and Nonius. The ancient writing in
this manuscript is exceedingly beautiful, and is supposed to
be of the time of the Antonines; the more modern, con¬
sisting of part of the Old Testament in Latin, is conjectured
to be of the seventh century. Mai deciphered a number
of various readings, together with about sixty inedited lines
belonging to the different comedies ; and restored the fol¬
lowing spirited lines of the Stichus (act i., sc. 5), which
had previously existed in an imperfect state :—
“ Famem fuisse suspicor matrem mihi,
Nam postquam natus sum, satur nunquam fui;
Neque quisquam melius referet matri gratiam'
Quam ego matri mem retuli invitissimus.”
T. his, therefore, is an important discovery, not so much on
211
Palimp¬
sests.
212 P A L I M P
Palimp- account of what has actually been recovered, as by reason
sests. Gf the expectations which it is calculated to encourage.
For if Monsignore Mai found a Latin Bible containing al¬
most an entire copy of Plautus, it cannot be affirmed that
any classical author is irrecoverably lost until every Bible
in manuscript, and every other writing upon ancient parch¬
ment, has been diligently examined. There is no moment
at which some important discovery may not be made, pro¬
vided the labour of scrutinizing parchments be persevered
in. That there are many palimpsests in the public libraries
of Great Britain, particularly in the Bodleian at Oxford,
which is singularly rich in manuscripts, can scarcely admit
of a doubt. The number of manuscripts in Spain, and her
vast mass of archives, have long been equally famous;
nor is it impossible that several lost works, or portions of
works, by Latin authors, may yet be found in that country.
Although the search for manuscripts that are directly and
obviously valuable may have proved fruitless, yet a very
different result may follow when parchments are examined
with a view to asceftain whether a lower stratum of writing
exists beneath the sterile surface, and whether some of the
most precious remains of ancient genius and eloquence may
not be covered or concealed by the rubbish of chroniclers
and ecclesiastical writers. It is true that much has perished
irrecoverably. In the Protestant parts of Europe the most
frightful havoc was committed at the Reformation. Huge
volumes containing the ancient services abounded in all
the churches and monasteries. Most of these had been
brought directly from Rome ; and in the days when books
of this kind were transcribed, it may, by some, have been
considered an act of piety to erase profane writings,
especially if imperfect, in order to make way for the
sacred offices. From the very nature of these books,
indeed, there can be little doubt that much ancient parch¬
ment entered into their formation; and as they were
carefully preserved, exempt from accident or injury, there
can be little doubt that in many, perhaps in most of them,
there existed under the rescription the remains of more
ancient writings. Wherever they could be found they
were consigned to the flames without mercy, in virtue of
enactments which enjoined the destruction of all popish
books; and inestimable chances of discovery were thus
for ever lost to the world. But great as was the destruc¬
tion which took place at the Reformation, enough still re¬
mains to warrant the conviction, that were there more
Mais to examine and decipher palimpsest manuscripts,
there would be numerous additional and most important
discoveries. Who knows but that, in the most paltry and
unpromising volume, may be found the works of the most
eloquent of historians ?—that
Pellibus exiguis arctatur Livius ingens ?
5. The next discovery effected by Mai, from a manu¬
script of the same class, was that of the remains of the
orator Fronto, who had flourished in the reign of Hadrian.
This writer, though by birth an African, was in his day
esteemed almost a second Cicero; yet of his writings little
more remained than a few scattered sentences, preserved
in the works of other authors. Mai, however, by his acute¬
ness and perseverance, was enabled to recover a very con¬
siderable portion of Fronto’s works, which he published at
Milan in 1815, in 2 vols. 8vo, under the title of M. Cornelii
Frontonis Opera inedita, cum Fpistolis item ineditis An-
tonii Pii, M. Aurelii, L. Veri et Appiani, necnon aliorum
Veterum Fragmentis. The contents of the first volume con¬
sist of one book of epistles addressed to Antoninus Pius,
two books to Marcus Aurelius, and two to Lucius Verus;
two books of letters to friends; several letters addressed to
Marcus Aurelius, on the subject of the Ferice at Alsium, a
town in Etruria; and one to Lucius Verus, in which the
orator laments the death of his grandson, one of the child-
SESTS.
ren of his son-in-law Victorinus. The second volume Palimp-
exhibits a considerable portion of two books, De Orationi- sests.
bus, addressed by Fronto to Marcus Aurelius; parts of
various orations and epistles; and also a portion of an
address to Antoninus, entitled De Bello Parthico, consol¬
ing him for the reverses experienced in the Parthian war.
Then follow some important fragments under the title of
Principia Historice; a few playful prolusions on lighter
subjects; and a book of epistles written in Greek. The
work is concluded with a collection of all the fragments of
Fronto’s works which have elsewhere been preserved, and
with copious illustrations of those which were then for the
first time published. In the palimpsest from which these .
curious remains were deciphered the more recent writing
formed part of the Council of Chalcedon ; but the manu¬
script was unhappily much damaged, and altogether in a
very imperfect state. Fronto was a voluminous writer, and
composed works upon various subjects, amongst which was
an Invective against the Christians. He had a great repu¬
tation as an orator, and was accounted the Cicero of his
time, although his style, which is said to have united the
siccum and the grave, does not very well accord with such
a distinction. The writings of so remarkable a person
would, in any circumstances, be an object of interest; but
they become doubly curious from having been thus mar- ,
vellously brought to light.
6. In the meanwhile, Mai was preparing another publica¬
tion of similar origin, which, in 1816, he gave to the world
under the following title, viz., Interpretes Veteres \irgilii
Maronis; Asper, Cornutus, Haterianus, Longus, Nisus,
Probus, Scaurus, Sulpicius, et anonymus; e Veronensi
Palimpsesto ; and about the same time he discovered the
palimpsest of the Gothic Bible of Ulphilas, his edition
of which has been already described among the biblical
palimpsests.
7. Mai now entered upon a more enlarged and important
scene of action. His distinguished merit in this new field
of discovery having obtained for him the notice of Pius
VIL, he was by that pontiff appointed keeper of the Vati¬
can Library, and speedily justified this preferment by a
discovery more interesting and valuable than any which he
had hitherto made. In a palimpsest volume, which had
formed part of the manuscript collection originally brought
from Bobbio, and which contained, in the exterior writing,
part of the commentary of St Augustin on the Psalms, he
found that the interior or more ancient writing had consisted
of the long-lost books of Cicero De Republica, the most
celebrated of all his works, and of which nothing had been
known, in modern times, beyond the fragments preserved
in the writings of Macrobius, Lactantius, Augustin, Nonius,
and others. This precious volume had been purchased by
Paul V. more than two centuries before, with the knowledge
that it was a palimpsest, and that it contained part of Cicero’s
treatise De Republica, though, by some strange neglect,
it was reserved for Mai to bring its contents to light. It
was still in excellent order; the characters were large and
plain ; and in the leaves which remained there was scarcely
a page that could not be deciphered; but many of the
pages were wanting; and there seemed reason to appre¬
hend that the same deficiency would often occur in future
discoveries, because the work last inscribed might not have
been co-extensive with the original writing obliterated, and
because, when the volume had been taken to pieces for the
purpose of rescription, the whole of the leaves that contained
the original writing might not have been put together again,
but some of them applied to other purposes, and leaves
taken from other works, or of new parchment, inserted in
their place. But however this may be, in these invaluable
pages a very considerable part of the first and second books
of the celebrated treatise in question was found so perfect
as to be completely recovered by the labour and sagacity
PALIMPSESTS.
213
of Monsignore Mai. The portions of the work thus rescued
from oblivion were published at Rome in 1821, with copious
notes and illustrations, particularly an accurate account of
the various chasms occasioned by the loss of original leaves,
and accompanied with such a restoration of the four re¬
maining books as could be effected from the less perfect
portions of the manuscript, and the various fragments pre¬
served by Sigonius and other critics. A finer specimen
of editorial skill, learning, and sagacity is nowhere to be
found.
The part of this important treatise which has thus been
unexpectedly brought to light, is amply sufficient to give a
clear insight into the plan and style of the dialogues, as
well as into the characters of the various interlocutors
under whose names the illustrious author chose to develop
his own opinions. These were, the second Scipio Afri-
canus, and his friend Laelius; L. Furius Philus; M. Mani-
lius, whom Cicero elsewhere praises for his knowledge of
the law; Sp. Mummius, the brother of Mummius Achaicus ;
Q. Elius Tubero; P. Rutilius Rufus; Q. Mucius Scaevola;
and C. Fannius, son-in-law of Laelius. The introduction
to the first book is nearly complete ; but that which stamps
the highest value on the work is the luminous philosophy
of the author on the subject of government and policy, as
expounded by Scipio, the principal interlocutor, with un¬
rivalled eloquence and felicity of expression. We now
understand the grounds upon which the ancients preferred
this to all Cicero’s philosophical works; and on the whole,
notwithstanding its still imperfect state, it is unquestionably
one of the most interesting acquisitions that have been
made in the department of classical literature since the
original publication of the ancient authors soon after the
revival of letters. May we not indulge the hope that even¬
tually other important additions will be made to the invalu¬
able fragment which Mai so laboriously and skilfully brought
to light?
8. The zeal and the industry of Mai did not relax from
success. On the contrary, soon after the appearance of
the fragment of Cicero’s treatise De Republica, he gave to
the learned wwld another elaborate publication, containing,
—1. Juris Civilis Antejustinianei Reliquia inedita; 2.
Symmachi Orationum partes; 3. C. Julii Victoris Ars
Rhetorica ; and, 4. L. Caecilii Minutiani Apulei Fragmenta
de Orthographia. These remains w’ere also recovered
from a rescribed manuscript in the Vatican Library, and
were, as usual, accompanied by notes, appendices, and il¬
lustrative plates.
9. But a much more valuable and generally interesting dis¬
covery awaited him. Students of Roman history have long
deplored the miserably imperfect condition in which almost
all its writers, native and foreign, have come down to our
time. Of the works of the Greek writers upon Roman
affairs,—Polybius, Diodorus Siculus, Dionysius of Halicar¬
nassus, Appian, Dion Cassius, lamblichus, and the writers
of the later empire, Dexippus, Eunapius, Menander of By¬
zantium, &c.,—but a very small portion has been saved, and
even that in far from a satisfactory condition, whether as to
completeness or as to correctness of text. Now, by a rare
literary favour of fortune, Mai was enabled, in one single
publication, to restore to the world large extracts of each
and all these historians, which, both in extent and in histo¬
rical importance, far exceed all the contributions to their
respective texts which, up to this day, had been made since
then first publication in the fifteenth and sixteenth cen¬
turies. The original of the palimpsest in which these
precious fragments lay buried was a sort of commonplace-
book, which had been compiled by the order of the learned
Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus, and in part, indeed,
esigned and executed by himself. It consisted of extracts
rom the most eminent authors, arranged under different
tltXol, or heads, originally fifty-three in number. Of these
fifty-three heads, however, only two were known before Palimp-
Mai’s discovery. Every trace of the rest, with the exception Bests,
of the names of twenty-two, had been lost; and the variety
and the value of the selections from the ancient writers
which they must have contained are best estimated from
the portions which have been recovered. The palimpsest
thus brought to light by Mai contained the title Ilepi
VvMfjLwv, I)e Sententiis; and although, like every other
palimpsest as yet discovered, very far from perfect, it com¬
prised a large number of extracts from the lost books of the
historians enumerated above. Of the thirty-five lost books
of Polybius, for instance (out of forty of which his History
originally consisted), the palimpsest supplies copious extracts
from all but the last,—from the sixth to the thirty-
ninth inclusively,—amounting, in the whole, to 100 quarto
pages. The gaps in the Historical Library of Diodorus
Siculus, of which twenty-six books out of forty have per¬
ished, are no less happily supplied. The extracts in the
palimpsest commence with the sixth, and extend to the
fortieth; making, in the whole, above 130 pages. Nine
of the twenty books of the Roman Antiquities of Dionysius
of Halicarnassus have perished. The Vatican palimpsest
contained extracts from them all, to the extent of 64
quarto pages. The fragments of Dion Cassius recovered
from the palimpsest are far from filling up the lament¬
able hiatus in his vast but sadly-mutilated History ; but
they are by much the most important and most considerable
that had hitherto come to light; and they fill no fewer
than 100 pages. The recoveries from the other historians
are less considerable ; but, even in themselves, they are of
great value, although, in contrast with the superior extent
and importance of the fragments named above, they will be
comparatively overlooked. In one word, the appearance of
this “ Historical Palimpsest” of Mai, as it has been styled,
may be regarded as an epoch in the search for the lost litera¬
ture of Greece and Rome. It appeared, not as an inde¬
pendent work, but as one of the volumes of a vast collection
of works in every department of ancient literature, sacred
and profane, collected from the unpublished manuscripts of
the vast store-house of the Vatican, filling ten immense
quarto volumes, and entitled Scriptorum veterum Nova Col¬
lection 1831-8. The “ Historical Palimpsest” was Mai’s last
great work in that line. Each of the three great collec¬
tions which he subsequently published,—the Classici Auc-
tores ex Codicibus Vaticanis editi, 10 vols. 8vo, 1828-38;
the Spicilegium Romanum, 10 vols. 8vo, 1839-44; and
the Nova Patrum Bibliotheca, vols. i.-vi.;—contains some
interesting fruits of his old spirit of research,—fragments of
Lucan, of Juvenal, of Persius, of Gargilius Martialis, and of
Aristotle ; but their materials are almost exclusively drawn
from the unpublished manuscripts of the Vatican.
Long, however, before Mai had withdrawn from the work Niebuhr,
of palimpsest exploration, another labourer of high qualifi¬
cations, who has been incidentally named already, Niebuhr,
had entered the same field of inquiry. The library of the
Chapter of Verona had long been famous for the number of
the manuscripts contained in it; and it was also known to
be remarkably rich in those which related to jurisprudence.
In the Verona Rlustrata of Maffei, published in 1732, the
author had given an index to all the manuscripts, and parti¬
cularly mentioned several leaves of parchment, some of
which treated of prescriptions and interdicts, whilst others
contained fragments of the Pandects and part of the work
of an ancient jurisconsult; “ quai codici, se si fossero con-
servati, niente si ha in tal genere, che lor si potesse parago-
nare.” The leaves in question were afterwards bound up in
a small volume, composed of fragments of different manu¬
scripts ; and extracts from both were published by Maffei,
with a fac-simile of the characters, in his Istoria Teologica.
But these curious relics attracted little attention, or rather
were altogether forgotten, until the successful researches of
214 P A L I M
Pahmp- Mai had awakened and animated the curiosity of the
v ^est8, learned. In the year 1816, Haubold revived the recollec-
tion of them by printing at Leipzig a treatise entitled No-
titia Fragmenti Veronensis de Interdictis, which appears
to have attracted considerable notice. In the same year
Niebuhr, passing through Verona on his way to Rome, as
Prussian envoy to the court of the Vatican, visited the
Library of the Chapter, and, during two dayswhich he passed
at Verona, took an accurate copy of the fragment De Prce-
scriptionibus et Interdictis, and also transcribed another,
De Jure Fisci. But if this had been all, the labours of
these two days, however meritorious, would perhaps have
soon been forgotten. Fortunately for letters, however, he
examined another manuscript, then numbered xiii., and
found that the exterior writing contained some epistles of
St Jerome, whilst a more ancient writing appeared under¬
neath. On further examination, Niebuhr perceived that
the latter contained the work of some ancient jurisconsult;
and having applied the infusion of galls to folio 97, he so
far restored the characters as to be able to transcribe the
portion of the original text therein contained. He then
communicated his discovery to Savigny, and with the
assistance of the latter, published in a periodical work the
specimen transcribed, accompanied with an ingenious com¬
mentary, in which he maintained that the manuscript re¬
ferred to contained the Institutions of Gaius, the great
Roman jurist, probably, under Marcus Aurelius, whose per¬
son and history have furnished such a theme for speculation
to writers upon Roman law; and that the fragment De
Prcescriptionibus et Interdictis formed part of that work.
The result fully established the soundness of this conclu¬
sion. Two other labourers were therefore sent by the Ber¬
lin Academy of Sciences to work the mine which Niebuhr
had thus happily opened; and, having obtained the per¬
mission of the Chapter, they transcribed the manuscript
almost entirely, only about one-ninth part of the whole, or
rather less, being found illegible. The transcript was im¬
mediately submitted to the Academy, and the Institutions
of Gaius first appeared at Berlin in the year 1820. The
manuscript from which this invaluable relic of ancient
jurisprudence was recovered consists of 127 leaves, which
have been thrice written upon. The more recent writing,
which is in uncial characters and of considerable antiquity,
contains some of the works of St Jerome, chiefly his
epistles, of which there are twenty-six. The more an¬
cient is of two kinds; the one remarkable for its antiquity
and elegance, and the other intermediate,—that is, written
over the first and under the third or last writing. The
former of these is that in which the Institutions of Gaius
were written ; so that the intermediate kind had superseded
the work of the Roman jurisconsult, but had, in its turn,
yielded to the third and last writing. As to the age of
the original manuscript, Niebuhr very early expressed an
opinion that it was older than the time of Justinian; and
Kopp, judging from the forms of the letters, the contrac¬
tions, and various other indications, arrived at the same
conclusion. It is creditable to the literary curiosity of
Germany that the first edition of this work was almost
immediately sold off. Blume, who had been concerned
in the first transcription, paid another visit to Verona,
where he re-examined the manuscript with great care;
and the fruits of his labour appeared in the second edition,
which was published in 1824. In the following year a third
edition appeared at Leipzig, without the notes of Gdschen,
and with the modern instead of the ancient orthography,
which had been religiously retained in the two Berlin editions.
Gaius was somewhat late in attracting attention in France,
w here learned lawyers were once so abundant; but the
? S E S T S.
translation of M. Boulet had the effect of partially awaken- Palimp-
ing the curiosity of his countrymen, by rendering this in- sests.
valuable relic of Roman jurisprudence more easily and
generally accessible.
Niebuhr’s contribution to Roman Law was followed up
by Peyron, who, from a palimpsest of the Turin Library,
published in 1824, CodicisTheodosiani Fragmenta Inedita,
4to, by Drs Pertz and Gaupp, who printed a portion of
the Digest of Justinian, from a Neapolitan palimpsest, at
Breslau in 1823.
The reader will be more interested, however, in the his- paijmp_
tory of the classical palimpsests. Dr Fridegar Mone, son sests re-
of the well-known scholar of that name already alluded to,cently dis-
discovered, during the year 1854, in a Benedictine monas-covered-
tery in Carinthia, a manuscript of St Jerome’s Commentary
on Ecclesiasticus, the under writing of which consisted of
portions of the first, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and fif¬
teenth books of Pliny. The original is exceedingly ancient.
Dr Mone even ascribes it to the second century, and it was
not without the utmost difficulty that he was enabled to
decipher it. As Pliny’s Natural History has come down
to us entire, the recovery of these fragments is less im¬
portant than would be a similar discovery of a lost classic,
but their value nevertheless will be fully acknowledged
by every critical scholar w'ho is aware of the very obscure
and seemingly corrupt condition of Pliny’s text; and who
recollects the light which has been thrown upon the last
six books by the new readings from the Bamberg manu¬
script which Sillig gave in the last volume of his edition
of 1831-6. Dr Mone has printed his Carinthian palimpsest
in a type nearly fac-simile. ((7. Plinii Secundi Naturce
Historiarum Lib. /., XI., XII., XIII., XV., Fragmenta,
edidit Fridegarius Mone, D.Ph., 1855.)
The oriental collection, to the palimpsests of which
biblical criticism has been, as we said, so largely indebted,
has also afforded some important contributions to classical
literature.
In the Codex Nitriensis already described, in addition to
the fragments of St Luke deciphered and published by Dr
Tischendorf, there was also discovered, under the same
Syriac treatise of Severus of Antioch, a second palimpsest,
containing large fragments of the Iliad of Homer. The
original Codex Nitriensis was one of a collection of Syriac
and other oriental manuscripts purchased for the British
Museum from M. Pacho. When first examined, it was
found to be defective; but fortunately the missing leaves
were discovered in a second collection brought from the
east by Dr Tattam; and the Codex now contains twenty-
three quires (of five leaves each), twelve of which are oc¬
cupied with the Homeric palimpsest. The whole has
been carefully deciphered by Dr Cureton, and published
in fac-simile, at the expense of the trustees of the British
Museum, in a beautiful volume, entitled Fragments of the
Iliad of Homer, from a Syriac Palimpsest, edited by W.
C. Cureton, M.A., London, 1857. These fragments com¬
prise in all 3873 lines; and although all their contents
were previously known, yet their high critical value will be
best understood from the circumstance, that the original
from which they are printed is more ancient by several
centuries than the oldest known manuscripts of the Iliad—
than the celebrated “ Townley Homer,” than the “ Bankes
Papyrus,” than the papyrus now in the possession of Mr
Harris at Alexandria, and the Ambrosian palimpsest dis¬
covered by Mai. As a specimen of palimpsest typography,
the book is one of the most beautiful hitherto produced.
Another, and still more curious fruit of the Syriac pa¬
limpsests, and the last1 which we have to record, was pub¬
lished a few months since at Berlin, from a codex in the
1 Some slight fragments of Lucan, Seneca, Aulus Gellius, and Hyginus the fabulist, deciphered by Niebuhr; of the Phaeton of Euri¬
pides, published by Hermann (Leipsic, 1821); of Sallust, Pliny, and Lucan, discovered by Pertz; and a few minor scraps, might also
be mentioned ; but they do not require any detailed notice.
PAL
j limpsests same collection of the British Museum—Gar Gram Lici-
niani Annalium quce super sunt, ex codice ter seripto
Muscci Britannici Londinensis, nunc primum edidit
Karolus Augustus Fridericus Pertz, Ph.Dr., Berolini,
1857. The palimpsest was first observed, and in part
transcribed, by the father of Dr Pertz, the well-known his¬
torian and antiquary of that name; but it was not till the
year 1856 that the younger Pertz completed the transcript,
which appears to have been a task of exceeding difficulty.
The codex, as will be collected from Dr Pertz’s title, is a
thrice-written manuscript; and it differs from the similar
palimpsest of the Institutions of Gaius in having its outer¬
most or most recent writing in the Syriac language, and in
the most difficult and complex form of the Syriac charac¬
ters—the cursive letters. The second writing is in Latin,
and contains portions of the work of some unknown gram¬
marian (the chapters De Verho and Be Adverhio), of
whom we only learn that he flourished between the second
and fifth centuries of our era. The lowest and earliest
writing is in large uncial characters, and contains por¬
tions of five books of the Roman history of an annalist
called Gaius Granus Licinianus, who is named by Mac-
robius and by the commentator on Virgil Servius, but of
whom nothing else is known. The recovered fragments pre¬
sent intrinsic evidence of having been written after the His¬
tory of Sallust and before that of Livy : they are from the
twenty-sixth, twenty-eighth, thirty-third, thirty-fifth, and
thirty-sixth books; and they regard a period of great interest,
A.u.C. 509-676. The least incomplete chapters are those
which regard theCimbrian war, the civil war, and the Mithri-
datic war ; but it must be owned that the recovered frag¬
ments throw little new light even upon these events. This
recovery, nevertheless, is very interesting, both for itself
and for the hope which it seems to hold out, that in other
quarters which yet remain to be explored, and which at
present seem to promise as little for ancient western litera¬
ture as the long-forgotten monasteries of the Levant, w^e
may yet disinter, from some thrice, or even more frequently
re-written codex, the most precious of the long-lost trea¬
sures of antiquity.
The general appearance and characteristics of palimpsests
will best be understood from inspection. There are few
of the great libraries which do not possess at least a speci¬
men or two ; and even from the fac-similes which accom¬
pany most of the palimpsest publications, a very good idea
of the original may be formed, especially from those of the
Cureton palimpsest of the Iliad, those of Tischendorf, and
the small plate of Pertz. In most cases, however, the pa¬
limpsest is represented, not in its original form, but in that
which it presents after it has been chemically treated for
the purpose of being deciphered. Cardinal Mai, in some
of his plates, represents both appearances.
The method of manipulating palimpsests, for the purpose
of deciphering the ancient writing, depends partly on the
condition of the manuscript, partly on the ink in which the
original was written. In some, indeed, the ancient writing
is quite readily deciphered without any preparatory process
whatever; in others, on the contrary, the original is found
to have been so carefully and so successfully effaced, that
no amount of skill or perseverance will avail to the com¬
plete decipherment of their contents.
To comprehend the process of restoration, it must be
understood that, there were two methods employed by the
ancients in effacing the original writing—the wet and the
diy. 1 he first consisted in moistening the surface of the
parchment, washing it with a sponge, and rubbing it down
with pumice-stone. Of the second there were two different
forms; either the entire line was scraped away with a
broad scraping tool or blade, or the operator followed the
course of each separate letter, and obliterated each in suc¬
cession with the point of the tool. The ink, again, was of
PAL 215
three kinds—metallic (which was that commonly used), Palindro-
vegetable, and animal; and as the action of the ink, what- mus-
ever may have been its composition, was not confined to
the surface, it is found that, even after the superficial trace
of colour has been partially or entirely removed, its unob¬
served presence may still be detected by careful scientific
treatment.
The first method, and one frequently adopted by Mai,
is simply to wash the page with an infusion of galls,
and expose it for a time to the action of light and air,
This application, in Mai’s hands, was in many cases suffi¬
cient to restore the buried writing so far that, in good
clear light, it could be deciphered by any practised palaeo¬
grapher.
In other cases, however, the effect of this treatment is to
blacken the parchment, and to render both the old writing
and the later entirely illegible. M. Peyron of Turin, the
editor of the fragments of the Theodosian Code described
above, having experienced this effect, adopted a prescription
suggested by his colleague Giobert, professor of chemistry
in the same university. The parchment is first carefully
washed in common water ; it is then dipped in diluted muri¬
atic acid, and finally in prussiate of potash. This treatment,
which had already been suggested by Blagden in the Philo¬
sophical Transactions for 1787, proved entirely successful;
and a preparation founded on it is now known by the name
tinctura Giohertina. Dr Pertz, in the effort to decipher
his palimpsest of Granus Licinianus, was struck by the
singular circumstance, that the same mode of treatment did
not succeed equally with both sides of the parchment. The
chemical agent employed by him was a preparation of sul¬
phuretted ammonia—(his formula is, N2H',S, aqua x - ),
which he found perfectly successful in reviving the charac¬
ters upon the outer surface of the skin, as this surface, from
its hardness and the closeness of its grain, had been but
little defaced by the process of rubbing. But the inside of
the skin, being softer and looser in texture, and therefore
having been impressed to a greater depth by the process,
remained almost entirely unaffected by this application.
For the inside of the parchment, therefore, Dr Pertz
found it necessary to have recourse to the agent already
referred to,—the tinctura Giobertina,—for which he
gives two different formulas,—c/y + 2K, and CyK + CyFe.
In deciphering the fragment of Livy, which he published
from a Berlin palimpsest (Berlin, 1848), Dr Pertz used a
mixture of the ordinary preparation of sulphuretted ammonia
and the tinctura Giobertina in equal parts.
Where the ink of the original is a vegetable product
(as in the case of a palimpsest of the Gallican Psaltery
described by Mone, p. 40), the palaeographers have failed
to restore the original writing sufficiently for the purpose
of being deciphered. For inks which contain animal sub¬
stances (as milk or the blood of the cuttle-fish, the
pi\av of the ancients), Dr Mone directs that the manu¬
scripts be placed in a close vessel filled with oil, and heated
to 400° R.
Much, however, it need hardly be added, will depend on
the experience and judgment of the manipulator. Many
useful suggestions will be found in the prefaces of Mai and
other editors, and especially in F. J. Mone’s Lateinische
und Griechische Messen; Pertz’s Gai Grani Liciniani
Annalium quce supersunt; and Fridegar Mone’s De
Libris Palimpsestis, tam Latinis quam Grcecis, Karls¬
ruhe, 1855. (c. w. R.)
PALINDROMUS, or Palindrome (yaXiv, again, and
Spopos, a course), a verse or sentence which runs the
same when read either backwards or forwards. Such is
the verse,
Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor.
Some people have refined upon the palindrome, and com-
216
PAL
Palinode posed verses, each word of which is the same read back-
II wards as forwards ; for instance, that of Camden :—
Palissy.
Odo tenet mulum, madidam mappam tenet Anna.
Anna tenet mappam madidam, mulum tenet Odo.
PALINODE (7rdA.1v, back, and 080's, a ivay\ a discourse
contrary to principles formerly avowed ; and hence the
phrase palinodiam canere means a recantation. (Macr.
Saturnalia, vii. 5.) The term is properly applied to a
piece in which a poet retracts the invective of a former
satire.
PALTNURUS, or Palinuri Promontorium {Capo
Palinuro), wras a mountainous headland on the coast of
Lucania, between Velia and Buxentum. It derived its
celebrity, as well as its name, from Palinurus, the pilot of
vEneas, who, according to Virgil and other Latin authors,
was cast ashore and buried near the promontory. It was
also well known for its well-sheltered haven, which still
bears the name of Porto di Palinuro.
PALISSY, Bernard, commonly called “ The Potter,”
was born about 1509, in the diocese of A gen in France,
or, according to some, at Chapelle Biron, a poor hamlet near
the small town of Biron in Perigord. His father is said to
have been a glass-worker, who exercised his craft, like
the rest of his fraternity in those days, in the recesses of a
forest. Young Bernard’s education was accordingly sadly
neglected ; but, “ as a child, he rolled upon the moss, and
ripened with the chestnuts,” which, in the long run, proved
not quite so bad a school for the youth as might have been
supposed. With some skill as a worker in painted glass,
he, at the age of eighteen, set out to study nature, to see
the world, and to earn his bread. The succeeding nine or
ten years of his life were spent in wandering over France
in all directions ; painting a window now and then ; con¬
stantly prying into the secrets of nature in woods and fields,
by rivers and roads ; talking with a wise man when he found
one ; studying his Bible as he went, and eagerly reading
what scraps of philosophy came in his way. It was during
these journeyings that he first became acquainted with the
Reformed doctrines, which he subsequently espoused, and
for which he had ultimately to suffer. In 1538 Palissy
took up his abode in the little town of Saintes, married,
and gave up wandering. During these years his eye
chanced to light upon a beautiful enamelled cup of Italian
manufacture, when, without the slightest knowledge of the
art, he too resolved to make enamels as well as any Italian.
He set about his experiments with uncommon ardour; but
nothing came of it meanwhile, he says, but “ great cost,
loss of time, confusion and sorrow.” His attention was di¬
verted for a time by the duties of surveyor of the salt-
marshes of Saintonge, to which he had been appointed ;
but the discovery of white enamel again became his care.
Failure upon failure mocked his enthusiasm: his neigh¬
bours jeered him, his wife became petulant, and his child¬
ren clamoured for bread. Then, with genuine childish sim¬
plicity, he comported himself, he says, “ as if I were not
zealous to dive any more into the secret of enamels,” and
took duly to glass-painting, and eschewed folly. But no
sooner had his domestic affairs begun to assume a more
prosperous aspect, than the little pet at the coy enamels was
got over, and ,he took to his furnaces again. The furnaces
soon burnt , up all the fuel, and consumed all the Potter’s
money. In his extreme need, he flung the flooring of his
house to the flames, and when that was done, the furniture
followed it. No wonder that his poor wife became now po¬
sitively sulky. The Potter was clearly mad now, in the eyes
of all sensible people. But mad or not, he discovered his
enamel, and became the greatest potter in France.
Sixteen years had been spent on this discovery, and
Palissy was now bordering on fifty ; yet he had accom¬
plished his purpose, and he met with the patronage which
PAL
success generally secures. In 1557 or 1558 he published Palladio,
a book without his name, which is either now lost or cannot 1
be authentically identified. In the first collected edition
of the Potter’s works, by MM. De Saint Fond and Gobet,
the Declaration des Abus des Medecins is supposed to be
the missing treatise, and is printed accordingly among Palis-
sy’s works. High and mighty patrons now sought the
humble shed of the artisan ; and among the foremost was
the Constable Montmorenci, who employed him to decorate
his Chateau d’Ecouen, near Paris. It has already been
noted that the Potter was a stanch Reformer. Reform was
unfortunately not a commodity in equal demand with enamel¬
led clay among the great and luxurious of France in those
days. On the contrary, old men and simple maidens had
more than once met death on the martyr’s scaffold, even in
remote Saintes, and under the eyes of the devout Palissy.
This had not the effect of silencing the outspoken, courage¬
ous Potter; it rather made him more vehement in his de¬
nunciation of the oppressors. But for his skill in clay, his
head would doubtless have fallen with the rest; but to im¬
prison or behead old Bernard was equivalent to depriving
many wealthy people of the luxury of his decorative art—a
thing not to he thought of. This it was that delivered him
from the Bordeaux dungeon and from the massacre of St
Bartholomew’s. In 1563 he published his second book,
containing treatises on four subjects,—viz., agriculture, na¬
tural history, gardening, and fortification, with an appended
history of the troubles in Saintonge. Here, as elsewhere,
the strong original genius of the man comes out, sometimes
in quite startling anticipations of scientific theories, which
centuries were needed to develop and verify. Under royal
patronage, the Potter removed to Paris; and at the age of
sixty-five became “ Master Bernard of the Tuileries.” His
sons aided him in his art; and he not. only continued to
prosecute his study of natural history, but commenced a
course of lectures in the capital on scientific subjects, which
were published in 1580. The doctrines of this, his last
book, were a century or two in advance of his time ; and
it is this work which has obtained for him the admiration
of men like Buffon, Haller, and Jussieu. The sturdy old
Huguenot had religious enemies in abundance, who had
long been anxious for his head ; and when the Potter was
in his seventy-sixth year, Henry III. gave way to their
importunities. He was thrown into the Bastile, where he
lay for the next four years. The king visited him in his
dungeon one day about the end of that period, and held
out to him the alternatives of recantation or death. “ Sire,”
said the old man of eighty, “ the Guiscarts, all your people,
and yourself, cannot compel a potter to bow down to images
of clay.” Next year both king and potter had gone to
their account: the former fell by the hand of the assassin,
and the latter died in calm hope in the Bastile. (See Life
of Bernard Palissy of Saintes, by Henry Morley, 2 vols.,
Lond. 1852.) The last and best edition of Palissy’s works
is entitled CEuvres Completes de Bernard Palissy, avec
des Notes et une Notice Historique, par P. A. Cap, 8vo,
Paris 1844.
PALLADIO, Andrea, a celebrated Italian architect,
was born at Vicenza in 1518. He began life as a sculptor,
but was afterwards induced by his friend Trissino the
poet to direct his attention to architecture. His generous
patron took Palladio with him to Rome on three several
occasions, where the young artist made a diligent study of
the best specimens of ancient architecture of which that
city could boast. Returning to his native town in 1547,
he set zealously to work both as a practical architect and
as an illustrator and expounder of his favourite art. He
attained an unbounded popularity as a master of archi¬
tectural design. Noble and commoner vied with each other
to overwhelm the rising artist with commissions ; and Pope
Paul III. summoned him to Rome to obtain his professional
PAL
Palladium advice regarding St Peter’s. An estimate of Palladio’s
3 '!i• character as an architect will be found in the article Ar-
. a chitecture. He gave the world the benefit of his artistic
' studies at Rome in his Antichita di Roma, published at
Rome in 1554, and frequently reprinted. His greatest
work, however, was his Architettura, in four books, pub¬
lished at Venice in 1570, and frequently reprinted, re-
edited, and translated. It appeared in London in 1715, in
two folio volumes, under the title, Architecture, in English,
Italian, and French, with Notes and Observations by
Inigo Jones; revised, designed, and published by Leoni.
This edition was often reprinted and re-edited, and appeared
both in French and Italian. The best edition of the Ar¬
chitettura is that of Vicenza, in Italian and French, in four
large folio volumes, 1776-85. A new edition of his works
was published in Paris, 1825-42, in folio. Palladio died in
August 1580, while engaged on his greatest work, the
Teatro Olimpico at Vicenza.
PALLADIUM (IlaAAdSiov), an image or statue of the
goddess Pallas Athene or Minerva, kept carefully hidden,
and revered as the safeguard of the place where it lay.
Among the ancient images of the goddess, by far the most
celebrated was the Palladium of Troy, said to have been
thrown from the top of Olympus by the hand of Zeus, and
to have been picked up and preserved by Hus on the build¬
ing of the city. This statue was about 3 cubits high, and
represented the goddess sitting with a spear in her right
hand, and in her left a distaff and spindle. The safety of
Iroy was universally regarded as depending upon the pre¬
servation of the Palladium. Ulysses and Diomede were
accordingly commissioned during the Trojan war to steal
it. They effected their object despite the wrath of Pallas,
who is said to have infused temporary life and motion into
her image to intimidate the impious Greeks. (Virgil,
JEneid, ii. 164, &c.) According to other accounts, the
genuine Trojan Palladium was conveyed by Alneas to
Italy, and was subsequently preserved with the utmost
secrecy and veneration in the temple of Vesta. To account
for the discrepancy in these traditions, some have alleged
that the image stolen by the Greeks was simply an imi¬
tation of the real one ; while others affirm that Troy con¬
tained two Palladia equally genuine. In Greece, Argos
and Athens both claimed the honour of possessing the an-
cient 1 rojan Palladium ; and in Italy, the cities of Rome,
Lavinium, Luceria, and Siris put forward similar pre¬
tensions. 1
On passing into European languages, the "word palladiur
came to signify any peculiar law or privilege regarded a
the safeguai d of the liberties of the people, or, in general
whatever affords effectual protection and safety. The tern
palladium has also been applied to a metal discovered b’
Dr Wollaston in 1803, associated with platinum, from whici
it is obtained, and which it resembles in colour and lustre.
PALLADIUS,surnamed “Sophista,”or “Iatrosophista,:
a Greek medical writer, flourished during some period be
tween the third and ninth centuries. The only record of hi
i e is, that he was the author of three Greek treatises, whici
are still extant. The first treatise, entitled Scholia h
Ljiorum Hippocratis “Be Fracturis;, was published in th<
twelfth volume of Chartier’s Hippocrates and Galen, fol.
^ans, 16/9. The second treatise, entitled In Sextun
ylippocratis) “ Epidemiorum ” Librum Commentarius
iias been inserted in the original Greek in Dietz’s Scholu
in Hippocratem et Galenum, in 2 vols. 8vo, 1834. Tin
t nr treatise, entitled Be Febnbus Concisa Synopsis, ha:
been published by Ideler in his Physici et Medici Grcec
Minores, 8vo, Berlin, 1841.
Pallaihus of Helenopolis, one of the early Christiar
a ers, is generally supposed to have been born it
Galatia about 367. An intense admiration for the prac
ice o asceticism seems to have early become his distin
VOL. xvn.
PAL
guishing characteristic. Assuming the monkish garb at
the age of twenty, he set out on foot to visit the cells
of the most famous solitaries in the different parts of the
Roman empire. The devout pilgrim trudged through
Upper Egypt, Lybia, Syria, Palestine, Mesopotamia, and
Italy, dropping in upon the ghostly fathers in the midst of
their solitary devotions, marking their austerities and mor¬
tifications of the flesh, and drinking in greedily the strange
stories about visions and miracles which fell from their re¬
verend lips. All these observations and fables he began
faithfully to record, after he had ultimately settled down in
the see of Helenopolis in Bithynia. The book was finished
about 420 ; and from being addressed to Lausus, a cham¬
berlain at the imperial court, came to be known by the
name of the Lausiac History. Palladius spent the latter
part of his life in the discharge of the duties of the bishopric
of Aspona. The date of his death is uncertain. The
Lausiac History, both in the original Greek and in an old
Latin version, is contained in the Bibliotheca Patrum, fob,
Paris, 1644 and 1654. There is a Greek work, entitled
A Bialogue about the Life of St Chrysostom, which has
been ascribed to the Bishop of Helenopolis, but which is
now generally attributed to another writer of the same
name and the same period. (See Smith’s Bictionary of
Greek and Roman Biography.)
Palladius, Rutilius Taurus JEmilianus, a Roman
writer on agriculture, probably flourished in the fourth
century. The only record of his life and labours is a
treatise, Be Re Rustica, in fourteen books. The first
book introduces the subject, the twelve next treat of the
agricultural operations of the twelve months of the year,
and the last describes in elegiac verse the art of grafting.
The work rose to high repute in the middle ages. It ap¬
pears to have been often transcribed; and it was nearly
completely incorporated in the Speculum of Vincent of
Beauvais. In modern times editions have appeared bv
Ernesti, in 1773 ; and by Schneider, in his Scriptores Rei
Rusticee, 4 vols. 8vo, Leipsic, 1794. Among the various
translations into different languages is the English version
of T. Owen, 8vo, London, 1807.
PALLAS. See Minerva.
PALLAS, Peter Simon, a distinguished naturalist and
geographer, born on the 22d of September 1741, was the
son of Simon Pallas, a surgeon in the Prussian army, and
professor of surgery at Berlin. Fie received the early part
of his education in his father’s house, and his instructors
bore ample testimony to the rapidity of his progress. At
the age of fifteen he began to attend medical lectures ; and
he applied himself so closely to practical anatomy, that in
1758 he was found qualified to deliver a course of public
lectures on that science. In the same year he went to
Halle, and became the pupil of Segner, continuing also his
studies of zoology, and, in particular, of entomology, with
great assiduity. In 1759 he removed to Gottingen, where
he made a variety of experiments on poisons, and on other
active medical substances, and commenced his observa¬
tions on parasitical animals. In July 1760 he went on to
Leyden, in order to attend the lectures of Albinus, Gaubius,
and Muschenbroek; and at the end of the same year he
took his d/tgfee of Doctor of Physic. Thfe following summer
he proceeded to England, principally with the view of com¬
pleting his medical education, although he devoted the
greater part of his time to the active pursuit of natural his¬
tory, being assisted and encouraged by the friendship of
Peter Colinson and of some other British naturalists,
which procured for him, a few years afterwards, the distinc¬
tion of having his name inserted in the list of the foreign
members of the Royal Society, at the early age of twenty-
three. He visited several parts of the coast of England,
in order to examine its marine productions; and his love
ol natural history enabled him to profit in a similar manner
2 E
218 PAL
Pallas, by an accident which detained him for some time at Har-
wich, on his return to the Continent, in the spring on.762.
Having paid a visit to his native city, he went again to
the Hague, and established himself as a resident there
under the patronage of Gaubius. On occasion of the pub¬
lication of a miscellaneous work on zoology, which he de¬
dicated to the Prince of Orange, he proposed a plan for
an expedition to the Cape of Good Hope, and to the
Dutch East Indies, which he offered to conduct in person;
but although the project was encouraged by Gaubius, and
approved by the prince, his father’s interference prevented
its execution, and obliged him to return to Berlin. His
filial affection, however, was not strong enough to induce
him to refuse the invitation of the Empress Catharine to
St Petersburg, where he accepted, in the year 1767, the
appointment of professor of natural history in the Imperial
Academy of Sciences.
The first few months of his residence at St Petersburg
were employed in preparing his Zoological Gleanings for
publication, and in making catalogues of some collections
of natural history. It was now that the more active career
of his public life was about to commence ; and in 1/68 he
undertook, in common with Falk, Lepechin, and Gulden-
stadt, the conduct of an expedition sent out by the em¬
press, for the joint purposes of observing the transit of
Venus, and of investigating the natural history and geogra¬
phy of Siberia and the neighbouring countries. The ob¬
ject of their researches for the first summer was the pro¬
vince of Kasan, and the winter was passed at Simbirsk;
the next year they examined the shores of the Caspian
and the borders of Calmuck Tartary ; after which they re¬
turned through Orenburg, and passed the winter at Ufa.
In 1770 Pallas crossed the Uralian Mountains to Catharin-
enburg, and, after examining the mines in that neighbour¬
hood, proceeded to Tobolsk. The next year he went to
the Altaic Mountains, traced the course of the Irtysch to
Kolyvan, went on to Tomsk, and observed the natural freez¬
ing of quicksilver at Krasnoyarsk, on the Yenisei, in Lat.
56. 30. N. He proceeded in March 1772 by Irkutsk
across the Lake Baikal, as far as Kiatka, and returned to
Krasnoyarsk. In 1773 he visited Tara, Astracan, and
Tzaritzin, on the Volga, and returned to St Petersburg in
1774, after an absence of six years. About ten years later
he was made a member of the Board of Mines, with an
additional salary of L.200 a year; and he was compli¬
mented with the title of a Knight of St Vladimir. The
empress purchased his collection of natural history for a
price one-third greater than his demand, and allowed him,
at the same time, to keep it in his possession for the re¬
mainder of his life.
In 1794 he took a journey into the Crimea, and was
captivated with the beauty of the country and its produc¬
tions ; the climate also appearing to be such as his health
was supposed to require, he obtained from his munificent
patroness not only permission to establish himself there,
but a grant of a large and fertile estate, and a sum of
10,000 rubles to assist him in his outfit. He was thus en¬
abled to build a little palace rather than a country house,
in which a traveller from the north of Europe was sure to
receive the most obliging hospitality, as Dr Clarke has
made well known to the English reader. It appears, how¬
ever, that the air was not altogether exempt from the
miasmata, which are the causes of paludal fevers ; and
some other circumstances, besides the distance from all
civilized society, seem to have made the old age of Pallas
more cheerless than he had anticipated to find it, in the
independence and tranquillity of his patriarchal establish¬
ment at Akmetshet (Simpheropol.) About ten years after
the period of Dr Clarke’s travels, he undertook a journey
to Berlin to pay a visit to his brother, and died there in
September 1811.
LAS.
Linne the younger has given him a genus, Pallasia, in Pallas,
his Supplementum Plantarum ; a compliment to which his v'—
unremitting labours in every department of natural his¬
tory had amply entitled him. His collection of dried
plants was purchased by Dr Clarke’s fellow-traveller, Mr
Cripps, and passed into the possession of Aylmer Bourke
Lambert. The general character of Professor Pallas’s ac¬
quirements appear to have been that of extent and variety,
together with fidelity. He was not the author of any new
theories or improved systems: and it has sometimes been
observed, as by Murray in his System of Vegetables, that
his descriptions were somewhat defective, from the omission
of correct specific distinctions; but this omission is of
such a nature as to affect a compiler or a book-maker
much more than an actual student of natural history, who
is studying for his own improvement only, and who is ca¬
pable of entering into a detailed examination of the ob¬
jects concerned. To such a detail the principal part of
Professor Pallas’s works have relation ; and it is impossible
to enumerate the whole of his memoirs without making a
pretty extensive catalogue of the productions of the vari¬
ous kingdoms of nature.
1. His Dissertatio Inauguralis de Insectis viventibus intra Viven-
tia, 4to, Leyden, 1760, containing a systematic account of intesti¬
nal worms, is said to have been previously published in another
form at Gottingen a short time before he went to Leyden. 2. We
find in the Philosophical Transactions for 1763, p. 62, a short note
on the Cold observed at Berlin the preceding winter. 3. In
the volume for 1776, p. 186, a Description of the Jaculator Fish, or
Sciawa jaculatrix of the Indian Ocean, which catches insects by
darting drops of water at them. This description is repeated in the
Spicilegia Zoologica, fasc. 8. 4. Elenchus Zoophytorum, 8vo,
Hague, 1766 ; containing nearly 300 species ; Dutch by Boddaert,
with figures, 8vo, Utrecht, 1768. 5. Miscellanea Zoologica, 4to,
Hague, 1766 ; consisting of descriptions and dissections. 6. Spici-
legia Zoologica, 4to, Berl. 1767-1780. Of this valuable collection
of memoirs, intended for the description and illustration of new or
little-known species of animals, there appeared in the whole four¬
teen fasiculi; some of them were published by Professor Martin
during the author’s absence in Siberia. W e find, amongst other
articles, an interesting account of the musk-deer, of various species
of the antelope, and on the different varieties of sheep, both wild
and tame ; the latter has been published in English, On Russian
and Tartar Sheep, 8vo, Edinburgh, 1794. 7. In the N. A.ct. Acad.
Nat. Cur., vol. iii., p. 430, Phalcenarum biga ; an account of two
species of moth, of which the females are without wings, and spon¬
taneously fertile. 8. A variety of miscellaneous papers, by Pallas,
appeared in the Stralsund Magazine, which began to be published
at Berlin in 1767. They chiefly relate to the Winter Residence of
Swallows, vol. i., p. 20 ; to Hydatids found in the abdomen of ru¬
minant animals, and supposed to be a species of Taenia, p. 64 ; to
the Birds of Passage of Siberia, p. 145, from Heller s Notes; to Fir¬
man’s supposed discovery of the Origin of the Belemnite, p. 192;
to Some Peculiarities of Insects, p. 225 ; to a Poison supposed to be
prepared in Siberia from the Sitta or nut-hatch, p. 311; to the
Elk or Moose-Deer, p. 382, from Heller’s papers ; and to the use of
the Sphondylium in Kamtschatka, p. 411. 9. Collections relating
to the Mongol Tribes, published in 1776, and showing that they are
distinct from the Tartars. 10. Professor Pallas’s contributions to
the Memoirs of the Imperial Academy of St Petersburg are also very
numerous, and on miscellaneous subjects. In the Novi Commentarii
we find an account of the Tubularia Fungosa, vol. ii., observed near
Wolodimer; Lepus pusillus, and Fossil Bones of Siberia, vol. xiii.;
Quadrupeds and Birds observed in 1769, vol. xiv. 1; Remains of
Exotic Animals in Northern Asia, vol. xviii., especially the skulls
of the rhinoceros and the buffalo; Tetrao arenaria, Equus hemi-
onus, and Lacerta apoda, vol. xix.; the last also in Oeneesk. Jaer-
boek, ii. In the Acta for 1777, ii., An Account of the Teeth of an
Unknown Animal, like those which have been found in Canada;
Observations from Camper’s Letters, on a Myrmecophaga and a
Didelphis, and Equus asinus in the wild state. In the volume for
1779, ii., a Description of Plants peculiar to Siberia ; Capra Can-
casica, also in Lichtenberg’s Magazine, ii. For 1780, part i.,
Galeopithecus vitans, part ii., On the Variations of Animals, and
JKdelphis brachyura. For 1781, part i., Felis manul, a new Asiatic
species of Felis; ii., on some species of Sorex. In the volume for
1783, New Species of Fishes; and 1784, On some New Marine
Productions. 11. The Observations sur la Formation des Mon¬
tagues, et les Changemens arrives au Globe, particulierement d regard
PAL
Paiiavi- dz VEmpire Russe, published separately, 4to, Petersburg, 1777,
cino. were also inserted in the Acta of the Academy for 1777, having
j been read at a public sitting before the King of Sweden. A trans¬
lation of this discourse is inserted in Tooke’s Russian Empire, and
some remarks on it are found in the Journal de Physique, vol. xiii.
12. The most considerable of the separate publications of Pallas
was the account of his travels, entitled Reisse durch verschiedene
provinzen des Russischen Reichs, 3 vols. 4to, Petersburg, 1771-3-6;
French, 8vo, Paris, 1803 ; English, 2 vols. 4to, London, 1812; a
work of the highest authority in geography and natural history.
13. It was in the course of these travels that Pallas observed in
Siberia an insulated mass of native iron which he described in a
paper addressed to the Royal Society of London, and printed in
the Philosophical Transactions for 1776, p. 523 ; a substance which
has become the subject of many discussions, from its resemblance
to some of the specimens of well-ascertained aerolites ; the author
mentions also the remains of an unmineralized rhinoceros, which
had been found in the same country. 14. In the Beschdftigungen
Naturforschenden Freunden, published at Berlin about 1777, we
find a letter on the Acipenser ruthenus, or sturgeon, vol. ii., p. 532 ;
and An Account of a Monstrous Horse, vol. iii., p. 226. 15. Some
Mineralogical Observations, addressed to Born, are published in
the Bohmische Ahhandlungen, vol. iii., p. 191. 16. In the Swedish
Handlingar for 1778, we have the Alauda Mongolica, and the
Sturnus Daauricus ; the Anas glocitans, in 1779. 17. Nbvce species
Olirium, 4to, Erlangen, 1778. 18. leones Insectorum, preesertim
Rossice Sibiriceque, 4to, Erlangen, 1781. 19. Enumeratio Plantarum
Procopii a Demidoff, 8vo, Petersburg, 1781. 20. Another channel
in which a number of Pallas's most valuable essays appeared is
the work entitled Neue Nordische Beytrdge, which he published at
St Petersburg and Leipsic in 1781 and the following years. The
most remarkable of the subjects of these are A Great Exotic Ani¬
mal found in Kasan in the year 1776 ; on the Migration of the
Water-Rat on the Volga, and Observations on Taeniae, vol. i.;
further Remarks on Taeniae; on American Monkeys bred at
St Petersburg; on the Ardea helias •, on the Culex lanio, sometimes
fatal to cattle; on the Phalangium, or Scorpion Spider; and on
Copper Island, in the Sea of Kamtschatka, vol. ii.; on Two Birds |
and on the Labrador Stone, vol. iii.; on a Cross of the Black Wolf
with the Dog; on a Mine; on the Oriental Turquois; and Mine¬
ralogical Novelties from Siberia, vol. v. 21. In the Physische
Arbeiten of Vienna, we have a geological Essay on the Orography
of Siberia, vol. i. 1. 22. Flora Rossica, f. vol. i., Petersburg,
1784; ii., 1788, published at the expense of the empress. 23.
Tableau Physique et Topographique de la Tauride, 4to, Petersburg,
1795; German, in N. N. Beytrdge, vii.; a work derived chiefly
from the observations made by the author in his travels of 1792.
24. A Monography of the Astragali is mentioned by some of his
biographers. 25. He edited also Guldenstadt’s Reisen durch Russ-
land und in den Caucasischen gebirgen, ii., v., 4to, Petersburg, 1787—
1791. 26. He also compiled and arranged the two first and most
valuable of the four volumes of the Vocabularia Comparativa, 4to,
Petersburg, 1787, in which he attempted to make some improve¬
ments in the Russian orthography.
(Coxe’s Travels; Clarke’s Travels; Tooke’s Russian
Empire ; Halleri Bibliotheca Anatomica ; Aikin’s General
Biography, vol. x., 4to, London, 1815 ; Chalmers’ Biogra¬
phical Dictionary, vol. xxiii., 8vo, London, 1815; Dryan-
der, Catalogus Bibliothecce Historico-Naturalis Josephi
Banks, Bart.) (t. y.)
PALLAVICINO, Ferrante, an Italian litterateur,
who owes his celebrity as much to his misfortunes as to his
genius, was descended from a noble family, and was born
at Piacenza about 1618. He received an excellent educa¬
tion, and gave early proof of very great abilities. In com¬
pliance with the desire of his parents, he entered the church,
took the habit at the monastery of the Augustine friars at
Milan, and joined the house of his order at Venice. For a
time he bore a high character for piety and learning, but
a love intrigue with a fair Venetian led to his deserting
the monastery, and was the beginning of a course of de¬
bauchery and general misfortune which ended only with
his life. Need drove him to authorship; and among other
minor efforts, he wrote a collection of satirical letters, called
The Courier Robbed of his Mail. It was bitter against
the Spaniards, whom the author disliked, but the Inquisitors
licensed its publication. The secretary of the republic,
however, declined giving it his imprimatur, which caused
Pallavicino to vow vengeance upon that functionary. On
P A L 219
returning from a residence in Germany, where he at once Pallee
acted as chaplain to the Duke of Amalfi, and played the ||
libertine, he resolved to wreak his anger upon all who had Pallium,
endeavoured to prohibit his manuscripts. He re-cast and
enlarged his Courier, and got a bookseller to pass it secretly
through the press. When on the eve of completion, how¬
ever, a pretended friend, who played the spy, disclosed the
matter to the Pope’s nuncio, and the unfortunate author
was thrown into prison. Having obtained his liberty, mainly
by the aid of one of his mistresses, he wrote a piece called
La Buccinata overo Butarella per le api Barberini, con¬
sisting of a bitter satire on his enemies the Barberini, with a
dedication, expressive of the most exquisite contempt, to the
Nuncio Vitelli. The ecclesiastic adopted the foulest means
of revenge. He bribed a base Frenchman to decoy the
unsuspecting poet into the hands of a gang of sbirri. Pal¬
lavicino was conveyed to Avignon, and, on pretence of car¬
rying contraband goods, was thrown into prison. A mock
trial was got up, at which he made a skilful defence; but it
was all to no purpose. He was sentenced to death, and
lost his head upon the scaffold on the 5th of March 1644,
at the age of twenty-six. In addition to the productions
already alluded to, Pallavicino wrote a number of smaller
pieces, all characterized by that happy grace and fine genius
which his larger works display. His Opere Permesse,
edited by Brusoni, with a Life of the author, were published
at Venice in 4 vols. 12mo, 1655 ; but his Opere Scelte,
Geneva, 1660, is the edition most prized by the curious.
PALLEE, a town of India, in the Rajpoot state of
Joudpore, 108 miles S.W. of Nusseerabad, and 351 S.W.
of Delhi; N. Lat. 25. 48., E. Long. 73. 24. It is an an¬
cient town, and was formerly surrounded by walls; but
these were destroyed at the request of the inhabitants; as
they made the place an object of contest in the civil wars
of Joudpore. Pallee belongs immediately to the sovereign
of Joudpore, and is not subject to any inferior feudal lords.
He obtained from it an annual revenue estimated at L.7500.
It is a place of considerable trade, as it stands at the in¬
tersection of the commercial routes from Cutch to the
northern provinces, and from Malwah to Sinde. Pop. esti¬
mated at 50,000.
PALLIUM and Paela were generic terms applied,
like IgaTLov and <^apos, to an outer garment worn by the
Greeks, and occasionally by the Romans, both male and
female, but so extensive in signification, that we find these
words not unfrequently employed to denote a blanket or
rug, rather than a “ cloak” or “ garment.” The article so
designated was a piece of cloth, always rectangular in shape
and frequently square, varying in colour and material ac¬
cording to the rank or taste of the wearer. It was gene¬
rally manufactured from wool, flax, or cotton ; and certain
qualifying epithets or specific designations were given to
the pallium to indicate the diversity in the materials from
which the cloth was made. The most graceful and con¬
venient mode of wearing the pallium was first to pass it
over the left shoulder, then to draw it behind the back and
beneath the right arm, and then to throw it again over the
left shoulder. A very common mode of wearing the pal¬
lium was to fasten it with a brooch over the right shoulder.
It was not unfrequently, however, folded about the body,
simply with the view of protecting the wearer from the
cold, and without any regard to grace or convenience.
Diogenes Laertius (vi. 6, 13) informs us that the cynic
Antisthenes “ first doubled his pallium,” a contrivance after-
%vards imitated by the rest of the fraternity, and especially
by Diogenes, who slept and died in his one. This was the
more necessary, however, in the case of those stern sages,
as they, contrary to the usual custom, often went without
a tunic. Socrates also adopted the practice of discarding
the underclothing. The pallium worn by boys was dif¬
ferent from that used by men; but women sometimes wore
220 PAL
Pallium the pallium of the other sex. Where means would allow,
II however, the Greek ladies generally adorned their persons
PaJm" with pallia smaller in size, finer in texture, and more gor-
JSunday. ^ ge(mgjy colouved than those worn by men ; although it was
" by no means a rare thing to see the more effeminate class of
men attire themselves in the splendid pallium of the ladies.
The toga among the Romans answered to the pallium among
the Greeks; and so strong was the prejudice of the former
nation in favour of their peculiar blanket, that they inva¬
riably regarded the adoption of the pallium by any Roman
as an affectation of Grecian or foreign manners. Hence
the employment of the national epithet togatus by the Ro¬
mans, to distinguish themselves as the nation of the toga
or gown from all other nations.
Pallium is the name applied in the Roman Catholic
church to that peculiar vestment bestowed by the Pope
upon all patriarchs and archbishops. It was formerly cus¬
tomary for those functionaries to make a pilgrimage to
the Holy City for the purpose of receiving the pall, but
other means are now adopted for delivering it to them.
The material for the ecclesiastical pallium is obtained
from the wool of two lambs slain on the eve of St Agnes.
This symbol of the plenitude of ecclesiastical power is
deposited on the tombs of St Peter and St Paul, where
it is left all night. It is afterwards, when duly consecrated,
laid aside by the subdeacons until demanded by those
for whom it is designed, whether in person or by proxy.
The modern pallium of the church is a short white cloak
ornamented with a red cross, which encircles the neck
and shoulders, and falls down the back. These palls are
purchased from his Holiness at a very considerable sum;
and no archbishop can perform the duties of his office be¬
fore receiving the pallium, nor is it legitimate for him to
use that of his predecessor. (See Ersch and Gruber’s
Encyclopcidie, article “ Pallium.”)
PALM. See under Palma in Botany, Nat. Ord. 251.
Palm Oil. See Oils.
PALM-SUND AY, the name given to the Sunday imme¬
diately preceding Easter, from the boughs of palm trees
which used to be carried to the church on that day by the
worshippers, in imitation of those which were strewn in the
way of Christ when he went up to Jerusalem. (Fuller’s
Church History, p. 222.) The author of the Festival, as
quoted by Brand {Popular Antiquities), says,—“ It is called
Palme Sondaye for bycause the palme betokeneth vyctory,
wherefore all Crysten people sholde here palme in proces-
syon in tokennynge that he hath foughten with the fende our
enemye, and hath the vyctory of hym.” Branches of willow,
box, and yew being more accessible than palm, are gene¬
rally employed in Roman Catholic countries, and go by
the general term of palms. The palm branches, on being
borne to the church, are thrown together in a heap, and
after being duly blessed by the priest, the worshippers
carry portions of them away again, in the belief that they
thus afford a sure protection against “ winter stormes and
thunders.” (See Barnaby Googe’s translation of Naogeor-
gus in his Popish Kingdome, 1570.) A wooden ass, sui-
mounted by a rider of the same material, seems also occa¬
sionally to have formed a part of the procession on Palm Sun«-
day. The author of the Pylgremage of pure Devotyon,
155 L, gives a satirical glance at this practice in his preface
when he says,—“ Upon Palme Sondaye they play the foies
sadely, drawynge after them an asse in a rope, when they be
not moche distante from the wooden asse that they drawe.
As appears from authorities quoted by Brand, it was cus¬
tomary also to deck private dwellings and churches with
the branches of the palm at this interesting season, (Vol.
i., p. 120, Bohn’s edition.) The ceremonies of Palm Sun¬
day were retained in England for a considerable time
after other practices peculiar to the Church of Rome had
been abandoned. This ceremony was to be retained by
PAL
an express declaration of Henry YIII. in 1536; but in Palma
the reign of Edward VI. it seems to have ceased. It is ||
still customary with boys, however, in some parts of Eng-
land to “ go a palming,” and gather slips of willow, v *acoP°-
flowers, or buds at this season. In Russia, the Greek
Church seems to hold a very solemn procession on
Palm Sunday.
PALMA, a town of Spain, in the province of Cordova, at
the union of the Genii and Guadalquivir, 30 miles S.W. of
Cordova. The streets are wide and well paved, and the
buildings generally good. The court-house, jail, church,
convents, school, hospital, &c., are the chief public esta¬
blishments. The principal manufactories are oil-mills;
but flour, soap, earthenware, bricks, &c., are likewise made
here. Some trade is carried on in timber, corn, fruits,
oil, and cattle. Pop. 5528.
Palma, a town of Naples, province of Terra di Lavoro,
stands on a beautiful hill to the N.E. of Vesuvius, 4 miles S.
of Nola. It contains several churches and convents, an
old castle, and a feudal mansion belonging to the King of
Naples. Pop. 6789.
Palma, a town of Sicily, province of Girgenti, and 14
miles E.S.E. of that town. It has several churches, and
many good houses. On a hill to the west stands the large
square castle of Monte Chiaro. Some trade is carried on
in almonds and sulphur. Pop. 8400.
PALMA, Giacopo, surnamed “ the Old,” an eminent
Italian painter, was born near Bergamo about the begin¬
ning of the sixteenth century. He was a patient and labori¬
ous artist, and studied to catch the grace of Titian, and the
clear expression and lively colouring of Giorgione. Ac¬
cordingly, an elaborate refinement and a harmony of tints
became his characteristic excellences. Among other great
pictures, he painted “ Saint Barbara” for the church of
Santa Maria Formosa at Venice, and a “ Madonna” for San
Stefano di Vicenza. He is also the supposed artist of a
portrait which has been warmly eulogized by Vasari as “a
performance of astonishing perfection and singular beauty.”
His death took place at Venice in the forty-eighth year of his
age. Several pictures ascribed to Palma, including some
that are not well authenticated, are found in the galleries
of Dresden, Vicenza, Venice, Vienna, and other Euro¬
pean towns.
Palma, Giacopo, surnamed “ the Young,” was the grand¬
nephew of the preceding, and was born at Venice in 1544.
Many favourable circumstances combined to assist him in his
progress towards eminence. After receiving his first lessons
from his father, a painter of some repute, he exercised his
hand in copying from Titian and thebest of the native masters.
Then being sent to Rome at the expense of the Duke of
Urbino, he spent eight years in copying from the antique,
and in studying Michael Angelo, Raphael, and especially Po-
lidoro. On his return to Venice, when Tintoretto and Paul
Veronese were monopolizing all the employment in that
city, Vittoria, an eminent sculptor and architect, patronized
him, gave him advice, and brought him into notice. By
these means did Palma attain to such a reputation that, on
the death of his two great rivals, he began to be over¬
whelmed with commissions, and his pictures came to be
appreciated for their rich and animated composition, and
their fresh and transparent colouring. Yet it was this
very rise in popular estimation that led to his decline in
art. The hurry resulting from his numerous and pressing
engagements betrayed him into negligence. Unless when
he was allowed to take his own time, and name his own
remuneration for any particular painting, he was wont
to dash off pictures which were little else than rough
draughts. This evil influence did not stop with his death,
in 1628. It affected the rising artists of the same school,
and introduced the most corrupt period of Venetian art.
One of Palma’s most celebrated pictures is his “Plague
Palmas
II
Palmyra.
PAL
of the Serpents” in St Bartolomeo. (Lanzi’s History of
Painting?)
PALMAS, Las. See Canary Islands.
PALMI, or Palme, a town of Naples, in the province
of Calabria Ultra I., on the shore of the Bay of Gioja,
occupies one of the most beautiful situations on this beau¬
tiful coast. It stands on the flat top of a rock rising steeply
from the sea, and is surrounded by gardens and orange and
olive groves; while the mountains in the background are
covered with luxuriant forests of chestnuts. From the town
is obtained a magnificent view of the Italian coast on the
N.; the strait and town of Messina, and in the distance
Mount Etna, on the S.; and the northern shores of Sicily,
with the Lipari Islands, on the W. The streets are re¬
gularly built, and many of the houses are very handsome.
In the public square there is an elegant fountain in the
shape of a palm tree. Part of the town was destroyed by
the earthquake of 1783, but it has since been restored. It
contains several churches and some silk factories. There
is some trade in oil, wines, &c. Pop. 6600.
PALM US, a measure of length used both by the
Greeks and the Romans. The Grecian palmus was of two
sorts,—the greater (a-mOagri), which contained nine finger-
breadths, and the less (7raA.aicm/), which contained four.
The Roman palmus was also of two sorts,—the greater,
which contained twelve finger-breadths, or about 9 inches
English ; and the less, which contained four finger-breadths,
or about 3 inches English. The greater was taken
from the length of the hand or span, the less from the
breadth of it. (See Weights and Measures.)
PALMYRA, or Palmira (Gr. IlaXjLulpa, Ptol. Appian ;
UaXplpa, Joseph.), “ The City of Palm Trees,” is the name
given by Greek and Roman authors to an ancientcity of Syria,
which is called by the sacred historians Tamar or Tadmor
(Heb. "ipn, 1 Kings ix. 18; 2 Chron. viii. 4,—
words having the same signification), and which is still
known by the Arabs under the name Tedmor. The iden¬
tity of Tadmor with Palmyra is not only inferred from the
similarity of the names, but rests also on the authority of
Josephus. It stands in an oasis in the Syrian desert, about
half-way between the Euphrates and the Orontes, and about
140 E.N.E. of Damascus; N. Lat. 34. 24., E. Long. 38.
20. Tadmor is said in the passages of Scripture already cited
to have been built by Solomon; but it cannot be thence
inferred that no city had previously existed on this site.
On the contrary, there are considerations which lead us to
suppose that Solomon only enlarged, and, as Josephus in¬
forms us, fortified, the more ancient town of Tadmor. It is
plain that the site of the town must always have been im¬
portant as a station in the desert while any route of travel
led across this region ; and that this existed at a very early
period, appears not only from the communication between
Mesopotamia and Palestine, as early as the time of Abra¬
ham, but from the mention by Moses of Indian products,
such as cinnamon (Exod. xxx. 25), which were probably
conveyed by this route to the West. The object of the
Hebrew monarch in taking possession and increasing the
size ol fadmor evidently was, to retain in his own hands
the profitable traffic with India by means of the Euphrates
and the Persian Gulf; and the place is accordingly de¬
scribed by ancient writers as inhabited chiefly by mer¬
chants, and proverbial for its wealth and luxury. This
Indian trade is with much probability conjectured by
Volney to have been the cause of many of the wars and
revolutions of the East in ancient times, and it was probably
this as much as any other motive that directed the continual
efforts of the Assyrian and Babylonian emperors against
1 alestine and Phoenicia, until both of these once powerful
nations were reduced under their supremacy. As long as
Jerusalem and 1 yre continued to flourish, Palmyra occu¬
pied a very subordinate position, and it is not mentioned in
PAL 221
the history either of the expedition of the younger Cyrus or Palmyra,
of the campaigns of Alexander. The decline of its rivals,
however, under the successors of Alexander, paved the way
for the subsequent accession of power acquired by Palmyra.
It is first mentioned by the Roman historians as a place
which Marcus Antonins attempted to plunder, upon pre¬
tence that it had not observed a just neutrality between
the Romans and Parthians. Under the early Roman em¬
perors, Palmyra was an independent city, and a place of
some importance, holding a position between the two great
empires of that time, the Roman and the Parthian. In
130 a.d. Palmyra submitted to Adrian, and from this
period rapidly increased in wealth and power. Though
nominally subject to Rome, it had a senate and popular
assembly of its own, as is seen from the inscriptions found
among the ruins. In the middle of the third century,
when the Roman empire was weakly governed by Gallienus
and Valerian, Palmyra rbse to its highest degree of power.
When the defeat and captivity of Valerian by the Per¬
sians, in 260 a.d., had so much weakened the empire that
its adversaries seemed to be in a fair way of becoming
masters of all the eastern provinces, Odenathus, a noble
of Palmyra, took up arms against Sapor, the Persian mo¬
narch, whom he defeated, and expelled from Syria and Me¬
sopotamia. For these services he was rewarded by Gallie¬
nus with the title of Augustus, and acknowledged as his
colleague in the empire.
Odenathus enjoyed his sovereignty but a very short time,
being murdered about the year 266 by his nephew, who
was soon afterwards put to death by Zenobia, the wife of
Odenathus. This celebrated woman, who assumed the title
of Queen of the East, was not more remarkable for her bold
and martial achievements than for her intellectual acquire¬
ments, and for the patronage she bestowed on literature,
particularly in the person of Longinus, the greatest philo¬
sopher of his age. By his advice, she wrote a letter to
Aurelian, who had assumed the purple in 270, declaring
her independence,—a step which did not fail to provoke the
hostility of that emperor. He accordingly passed over into
Asia, and routed the forces of the Queen of the East, under
the command of Zabdas, in two separate engagements
fought near the gates of Antioch, and under the walls of
Emesa. Zenobia finding it impossible to collect a third
army, withdrew to Palmyra as her last resource, and pre¬
pared for a desperate resistance.
“ The Roman people,” says Aurelian, in an original letter,
“speak with contempt of the war which I am waging
against a woman. They are ignorant both of the charac¬
ter and of the power of Zenobia. It is impossible to enu¬
merate her warlike preparations of stones, of arrows, and
of every species of missile weapons. Every part of the
walls is provided with two or three balistae, and artificial
fires are thrown from her military engines. The fear of
punishment has armed her with a desperate courage. Yet
I trust still in the protecting deities of Rome, who have
hitherto been favourable to all my undertakings.” The
courage of the queen was supported by the hope of aid
from Sapor of Persia. That monarch died, however,
during the course of the siege, and the unfortunate heroine,
driven to the last extremity, resolved to fly. Mounting
her fleetest dromedary, she scoured the desert for 60 miles,
but was overtaken and captured by Aurelian’s light horse
on the banks of the Euphrates. She was brought a captive
to the feet of the emperor, and her capital soon afterwards
surrendered.
After the surrender of Palmyra, Zenobia was conveyed
as a captive to Rome, to grace the conqueror’s triumph;
while many of her advisers, and among the rest Longinus,
were put to death. Aurelian had hardly set foot on the
shores of Europe, when intelligence reached him of the
massacre of the governor and garrison he had left at Pal-
222 PALMYRA.
Palmyra, myra. Without a moment’s deliberation, he turned his
face eastward, and the fated city felt the full weight of his
resentment. The destruction of Palmyra took place in
273 a.d. ; but, in pity for the remnant of the inhabitants,
permission was granted to rebuild and occupy it. (See
Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, vol. ii., chap, xi.) After this
period, however, the city gradually declined. It was indeed
enlarged by Diocletian, in whose reign it was a military
station, and Justinian strengthened its fortifications; but
the decline of the Roman empire seems to have soon led
to the abandonment of the place. It was taken by the
Saracens under the caliph Abu Bekr, the successor of Mo¬
hammed, and was a place of some importance in the wars
between the different factions of the Prophet’s followers.
In the twelfth century Palmyra was visited by Benjamin
of Tudela, who states that it was then surrounded with a
wall, and inhabited by 2000 Jews. In 1400 it was plun¬
dered by Tamerlane ; but after this period Palmyra is not
again mentioned in history. Until nearly the end of the
seventeenth century the magnificent ruins of Palmyra
were known only to the Arabs, by whom, in 1678, an ex¬
pedition by certain English merchants at Aleppo was ren¬
dered abortive; and after the success of a second attempt
in 1691, the description they gave of the remains received
little credit. These earlier reports were, however, confirmed
by Wood and Dawkins, who visited Palmyra in 1751, and
published a full account of the ruins they found there. But
these descriptions wTere regarded as somewhat exaggerated
by Irby and Mangles, who examined the place in 1816.
Since that period several other travellers have visited Pal¬
myra, and given accounts of its remains.
The ruins stand at the eastern foot of a chain of hills
extending north and south, and they present, on the first
view, an extremely fine appearance,—contrasting by the
pure whiteness of their innumerable columns with the yellow
sand of the desert. The Arabian village of Tedmor con¬
sists merely of a collection of mud hovels in the court of
the great Temple of the Sun; but all the rest of the ruins
are free from the incumbrance of any modern structures.
The inhabitants of both sexes are well shaped, and the
women, though very swarthy, have good features. They
are veiled, but do not so scrupulously conceal their faces
as the eastern women generally do. They stain the
ends of their fingers and the palms of their hands red,
their lips blue, and their eyebrows and eyelashes black.
They have large rings of gold or brass in their ears
and nostrils, and appear to be healthy and robust. The
numbers of the inhabitants are continually fluctuating.
Mr Addison, who visited the ruins in 1835, states that
there were then only twelve or fifteen families in the
village; while in 1851, when the Rev. J. L. Porter was
there, the place contained seventy or eighty families,
though since that time he states that it is reported to have
been deserted by nearly half the people, on account of a
private quarrel. They live chiefly by trading with the
Bedouins and the people of Damascus, to which city they
convey large quantities of salt, obtained from the desert
south of Palmyra. A few small gardens are cultivated,
producing vegetables and corn ; and in these still flourish
a number of the palm trees that once gave its name to the
city. As the whole of the ruins are covered to some
height with drifting sand, which seems to have come down
from the eminences to the S.W. of the town, it is probable
that some change has taken place in the surface of the
country ; for the splendid buildings and colonnades would
scarcely have been erected in a position where it would
require constant labour to keep them clear of sand. Al¬
though some travellers have represented the buildings of
Palmyra as constructed of marble, the material almost uni¬
versally employed is white limestone from the adjacent
hills, which are of that formation. Several shafts, however,
are of Syenite granite, one of which, 30 feet long and 3 in Palmyra,
diameter, must have been conveyed with immense labour
and difficulty from Upper Egypt, a distance of nearly 200
miles. The ruins of Palmyra cannot properly be compared
with those of Ba’albek, for, though less gigantic, they are
far more extensive and various. The ancient walls, which
may still be traced, and which are supposed to be those of
Justinian, have a circumference of 3 miles; while we have
reason to believe that the ancient city extended far beyond
these limits, and if we may believe the Arabs, covered an
area 10 miles in circumference. “ Here,” says Addison,
“ over an immense area, we wander through the ruins of
long porticoes leading up to ruined temples and unknown
buildings. Now we see a circular colonnade sweeping
round, with its ruined gateway at either end ; now we come
to the prostrate walls or ruined chambers of a temple or a
palace ; anon we explore the recesses of a bath or the
ruins of an aqueduct; then we mount the solitary staircases,
and wander through the silent chambers of the tombs,
ornamented with busts, inscriptions, and niches for the cof¬
fins stored with mouldering bones; and from the summits
of funereal towers, five storeys in height, we look down
upon this mysterious assemblage of past magnificence, and
beyond them upon the vast level surface of the desert,
silent and solitary, stretching away like the vast ocean, till
it is lost in distance.” (Vol. ii., p. 286.) The capitals of
the columns, and the more delicate sculptures, have been
much injured by the sciroc wind of the desert; but those
parts which have been sheltered from its corroding influ¬
ence present the most beautiful and minute carving.
Like many other ancient cities of Syria, Palmyra contains a
grand colonnade, which extends from S.E. to N.W., and is
intersected near the middle by another at right angles to it.
At the S.E. extremity is a triumphal gateway, with three
arches ; and at the intersection of the two colonnades are
four stone platforms, which once supported as many statues.
The avenue consisted of four rows of columns, of which it
must have contained upwards of 1500, more than 150 still
remaining. They are 57 feet high, including the bases
and capitals, and finely proportioned, though the details
are not so tasteful as those of the great temple. A richly-
sculptured entablature surmounted the columns, and must
have added to the magnificent appearance of the whole
when entire. This colonnade seems to have been one of
the places set apart by the Palmyrenians for monuments
to their distinguished citizens, as most of the pillars have
brackets projecting from them for supporting statues, and
inscriptions below containing the name of the individual.
One of these inscriptions is important, as establishing, by
its date and the historical persons mentioned, the fact that
the era in use at Palmyra was that of Seleucus, b.c. 312.
The dates found on the various columns, however, cannot
be taken as fixing the period when the colonnade itself was
erected ; but they give evidence that this must have been
previous to 238 a.d. From the grand avenues many
smaller colonnades diverge in various directions, leading to
the numerous temples and other buildings that occupy the
space around the avenues. This seems to have been an or¬
namental part of the town, kept quite distinct from the rest,
which lay more to the north. It is impossible to describe
all the various buildings which crowd the site of the city of
Zenobia, and which are, many of them, remarkable for ele¬
gance and beauty. The most magnificent of these, how¬
ever, the great Temple of the Sun, deserves a more parti¬
cular account. It stands on a rising ground near the
south-eastern end of the town, and must have presented,
when entire, a most splendid appearance. The outer
court, a perfect square, 740 feet every way, was inclosed
by a lofty wall pierced with numerous richly-carved win¬
dows, between which, on both sides, are Corinthian pilasters
surmounted by a frieze and cornice. On the west side was
PAL
Palmyra, the grand entrance, consisting of a portico of ten pillars,
138 feet in length, approached by a magnificent staircase.
All this, however, has been disfigured by a huge square
tower, built by the Saracens, who used the temple as a
fortress. The central door, whose sides and lintel are
composed of single blocks of stone, is 32 feet in height and
15 in breadth ; and is surrounded with beautifully-carved
vine branches and clusters of grapes ; while the two side
doorways are half the size of the central one. The interior
area, which was paved with large square stones, was sur¬
rounded on every side but the west, where there was a
single row, by a double range of pillars 37 feet high,
each having on a bracket the statue of some distinguished
individual. The number of the columns was 390 ; but of
these only about 60 now remain. In the centre of the area,
on a raised platform, stood the temple itself, towering above
the adjacent edifices. It stands north and south, having its
door on the west side, facing the grand entrance ; and it is
surrounded by a row of Corinthian columns 64 feet high,
and a cornice running all round, with boldly-carved wreaths
of flowers and fruit. The door is 33 feet high by 15 wride,
and has over it an eagle with outspread wings, similar to
that in the temple at Ba’albek. The roof of the temple is en¬
tirely gone, and the interior has been much defaced by the
fanaticism of the Mohammedans, who employ the southern
end as a mosque. At each extremity of the building,
which is 134 feet long, exclusive of the colonnade, is a
semicircular vaulted chamber, with a richly-sculptured
roof, that at the north end having representations of the
signs of the zodiac. This magnificent temple is considered
by Porter, as a whole, to be scarcely surpassed by any in
the world. “ The temple of Minerva at Athens, and a few
of its fellows,—the chef d’ceuvres of ancient Greece,—are
undoubtedly more beautiful in their stern simplicity, and
in the brilliancy of their marble columns. Ba’albek, not
less chaste in its sculpture, is more gigantic in its propor¬
tions ; but the cloistered court at Palmyra, with its long
lines of statues, and the temple itself towering high over
all, formed a picture unique and unequalled by any of these.”
(Vol. i., p. 238.) Besides the temples and colonnades,
there are at Palmyra numerous tombs, many of which are
curious and interesting. There seem to have been two
cemeteries near the town, one of which, supposed to be the
more ancient, as it contains no Greek inscriptions, lies in
the plain to the S.W., while the other occupies the sides
ot the valley through which the road leads westward.
Some of the tombs are hewn out of the rock ; others are
towers several storeys in height. They generally contain
receptacles for coffins, arranged in tiers ; most of them have
inscriptions, and many are adorned with sculpture. One
of the aqueducts that supplied the city with water runs
through the valley in the west from a source in the northern
mountains. It is built of hewn stones, and is 8 feet high
by 4 broad. There was also another aqueduct, the source
of which is not known, but of which traces have been ob¬
served to the N. of the great temple. From a fountain,
near which is an ancient altar of Jupiter, to the S.W. of
the city, flows a sulphureous stream, which supplies the
modern inhabitants, and waters their few gardens. The
inscriptions on the various columns and buildings of Pal¬
myra are numerous, and are written both in Greek and in
the Palmyrene characters, which have a considerable re¬
semblance to the Hebrew. The earliest date that has been
ound in Greek is 314 of the Seleucian era (a.d. 2); but
the Palmyrene inscriptions are believed to be much more
ancient. As many of the tombs have never been opened,
and as the Palmyrene tongue has not yet been deciphered,
i is possible that some additions to our knowledge of an-
cient history may be derived from these inscriptions, though
most o the Greek ones contain little more than names and
dates. Of the more modern buildings at Palmyra, the only
PAL 223
one that deserves notice is the Saracenic castle, which Palo
stands on the hills to the N.W. of the town, commanding ||
a fine view of the whole of the ruins. It is said by the Palom'no
Arabs to have been built by Man Ogle, a Druse prince ; d® Castr0
but it is now entirely deserted. y ^ e asco.
Such is the present condition of the renowned city of * N
“ Palmyra, central in the deserta city which was once
the seat of wealth and of learning—the capital of a nation
that defied the power of Rome—the chief emporium on a
route by which of old the wealth of India was conveyed to
the West—and which, though now traversed only by the
wandering Bedouin or the adventurous traveller, seems
likely to become again the highway to the East. The
wretched huts of the present inhabitants, contrasting with
the splendour of the ancient remains, show how fatal to
Palmyra has been its conquest by the followers of the Pro¬
phet. (See Damascus and Palmyra, by Charles G. Addi¬
son, London, 1838 ; Five Years in Damascus, by the Rev.
J. L. Porter, A.M., F.R.S.L., London, 1855.)
PALO, a town of Naples, province of Bari, stands on a
steep rock rising above the left bank of the Sele, 11 miles
S.W. of Bari. It contains two convents, and has manu¬
factories of soap. Pop. 4650.
PALOMAR, San Andres de, a town of Spain, pro¬
vince of Barcelona, and 4 miles north of that town. It con¬
tains a small church of Moorish style, a court-house, and
several schools. Weaving, spinning, and lace-making are car¬
ried on ; and the town is in a flourishing state. Pop. 4345.
PALOMINO DE CASTRO Y VELASCO, Acis-
CLO Antonio, “ the Vasari of Spain,” was born of a good
family at Bujalance in 1653. He received an excellent
education at Cordoba in grammar, philosophy, theology,
and jurisprudence ; but his taste for art triumphed over his
love of letters. Cordoba was visited by Valdes Leal in
1672, and by Alfaro in 1675. They were both painters of
reputation, and they bestowed much care on the instruction
of Palomino. Both did what they could to stimulate him in
the study of his art, and both strove to smooth his way to ad¬
vancement. Having a vague hankering towards the church,
he took minor orders sometime before 1678, when, on the
advice of Alfaro, he repaired to Madrid to prosecute the
study that lay nearest his heart. Here painting and mathe¬
matics, the society of artists and men of letters, occupied
his time till the death of his friend Alfaro in 1680 called
him to complete the pictures left by that artist on the
easel. Palomino soon afterwards married a lady of rank,
was appointed alcalde of the Mesta, and was thus raised to
the rank of nobility. He continued to prosecute his art
with some degree of success ; and in 1688 was made painter
to the king. He visited Valencia in 1697, where he re¬
mained three or four years, and left behind him a number
of feeble frescoes in the principal churches there. Sala¬
manca, Granada, and Cordoba were visited successively
in a professional capacity between 1705 and 1715. It
was during the latter year that the first volume of his
great work on art made its appearance. On its comple¬
tion in 1724, it bore the title El Museo Pictorico y Escala
Optica, 2 tom. fob, Madrid, 1715-24. The first volume con¬
tains some valuable disquisitions on painting, much silly gos¬
sip about miraculous images, and numerous practical hints
to artists, at once prolix and pragmatical. The portion of
his work devoted to the biography of Spanish artists, en¬
titled El Parnaso Espanol Pintoresco Laureado (“ The
Picturesque Laurelled Spanish Parnassus”), without being
remarkable for accuracy, is nevertheless a perfect store¬
house of facts, traditions, and quaint, facetious stories, of
which subsequent writers have freely availed themselves.
There is an honest, garrulous simplicity about his narra¬
tive ; and, curious to say, he is much more given to praise
than to blame his brethren of the brush when he has occa¬
sion to be critical. As a writer he does not stand much
224 PAL
Palos higher than as an artist; yet the learning and industry which
II he brought to bear upon his history of art have formed the
Pampas, 0f his reputation, and have preserved his name
from oblivion. The latter days of Palomino were spent as
a churchman. His wife dying in 1725, and his own health
having given way, he received priest’s orders during the
same year. He died on the 13th of August 1726. Palo¬
mino’s History was partially translated into English in 1739 ;
an abridgment of it in the original appeared at London in
1744, afterwards translated into French, with additionSj in
1749; and a reprint of the entire work was issued from the
press at Madrid in 1797. (See Stirling’s Annals of the
Artists of Spain, vol. iii., pp. 1120-1134.)
PALOS, a small seaport of Spain, province of Huelva,
on a bay of the Atlantic. From this place Columbus
sailed, August 3, 1492, on his first voyage ; and here he
landed, March 15, 1493, after the discovery of America.
Here also Cortes landed in 1528, after the conquest of
Mexico. In the neighbourhood is the convent where Co¬
lumbus, asking alms, was received by the prior, Juan Perez
de Marchena, through whose influence at court he was per¬
mitted to undertake his voyage.
PALOTA, a market-town of Hungary, county of Vesz-
prim, 13 miles W. of Stuhlweissenburg. It contains a
castle, several churches belonging to different sects, a syna¬
gogue, and an orphan hospital. There are here several
mills and woollen factories.
PALU, or Paloo, a town of Asiatic Turkey, pashalic
of Diarbekir, stands on the eastern branch of the Euph¬
rates, at an elevation of 3292 feet above the sea, 55 miles
N. of Diarbekir. It has a castle ; and is surrounded by a
rich and well-cultivated country, with numerous gardens
and vineyards. About three-fifths of the population are
Mohammedans, and they are almost the sole landowners
and farmers. The Armenians, who form the rest of the
inhabitants, are heavily taxed. Weaving, dyeing, and tan¬
ning are actively carried on. Pop. about 5000.
PALUDAMENTUM was a habit among the Romans,
differing little, if at all, from the chlamys. ^it^was worn by
the officers and principal men in time of mir, who were
therefore called paludati; and this distinguished them
from the common soldiers, who, because they wore the
sagum, were called the sagati. The paludamentum, which
w'as generally white or red, came down to the knees, or
lower, was open in front, hung loosely over the shoulders,
and was fastened across the chest by a clasp.
PAMIERS, a town of France, in the department of
Ariege, capital of an arrondissement of the same name,
stands on the right bank of the Ariege, 11 miles N. of
Foix. It is a neat and cheerful place, containing a cathe¬
dral with a brick Gothic tower, several other churches, a
convent, bishop’s palace, court-house, several schools, and a
large hospital. It is the seat of a court of the first resort;
and has manufactures of nails, files, paper, serge, and woollen
cloth. Some trade is carried on in corn, wool, horse-hair,
&c. In the village of Carlat, not far from Pamiers, the ce¬
lebrated Bayle was born in 1647. Pop. (1856) 7267.
PAMIR, or Pamere, an elevated region in Central Asia,
to the N. of the Flindu Koosh Mountains, forms a part of
Independent Tartary. It contains the lake from which the
Oxus takes its origin ; and has some mountains rising to the
height of 1900 feet above the sea. The inhabitants of this
country are Kirghises, who pursue a wandering and pasto¬
ral mode of life. The pasturage is good, but the climate is
very cold, and snow lies in some parts all the year round.
PAMPAS, vast plains in South America, extendingover
an area of 1,620,000 square miles, and occupying nearly
the whole of Patagonia, and all the central part of the Ar¬
gentine Republic. They are traversed by numerous rivers ;
and while in some parts they are covered with grass, in others
the ground is of a swampy and marshy character.
PAM
Pampas del Sacramento, extensive plains occupying Pampas del
the N.E. and less known parts of Peru, having an area of Sacra-
about 60,000 square miles. They are of great fertility, and mento
in many parts have been cultivated. In some places they „ |
are covered with dense and luxuriant forests. ^ ^ j.'
PAMPHILUS, a benevolent promoter of learning in
the early church, is said to have been born at Berytus in
the latter half of the third century. After studying under
Pierius at Alexandria, he settled as a presbyter at Caesarea
in Palestine, and began to devote his life to the advance¬
ment of Scriptural knowledge. He formed a valuable ec¬
clesiastical library, founded a theological school, and multi¬
plied the copies of the Holy Scriptures. At the same time,
all these appliances were used by him with the most liberal-
minded philanthropy. All who were animated by a love for
sacred learning were kindly welcomed into his library or his
school; and all the poor who were eager to read the Divine
word for themselves, were presented with a copy of the
Bible from his hands. This self-sacrificing life was nobly
brought to a close in 309 by a brave endurance of the
pains of martyrdom. Pamphilus was the author of an
Apology for Origen, in five books, a work which was conti¬
nued by his pupil and admirer Eusebius in a sixth book.
The first book alone is extant in a Latin version by Rufi-
nus, and has been inserted in Delarue’s edition of Origen.
Pamphilus, one of the most distinguished of Greek
painters, was born at Amphipolis in the fourth century
B.C., and studied at Sicyon under Eupompus. The high
opinion which he entertained of the requirements of an
artist became the most prominent feature of his career.
While studying as a pupil, he thought it necessary to make
himself a proficient in all the general learning of the day.
After he had succeeded his master as head of the Sicyo-
nian school, he established a comprehensive system of ar¬
tistic training. All sciences that related either directly or
indirectly to painting were included in the subjects of
study; the duration of the course was extended over ten
years ; and the art of delineating was laid down as the fun¬
damental element in the education of all those who were
free-born. The result of this thorough-going method soon
became palpable. The master and some of his pupils out¬
stripped all other artists in the composition of their pictures ;
such painters as Apelles were attracted by the growing re¬
putation of the school ; and the above-mentioned principle
touching delineation came to be adopted throughout the
rest of Greece. The close attention which Pamphilus de¬
voted to tuition must have left him little time for the pri¬
vate practice of his art. Accordingly, the only pictures of
his whose names are recorded are the “ Heraclidae,” “ The
Battle of Phlius,” “ Ulysses on the Raft,” and the “ Cog-
natio” or “ Relationship.” The last is supposed to be a
family group.
PAMPHYLIA, a province on the S. coast of Asia
Minor, was bounded on the N. by Pisidia, on the E. by
Cilicia, and on the W. by Lycia and a part of Phrygia. Its
limits appear to have never been accurately defined, and to
have been different at different times. However, its north¬
ern boundary was generally held to be Mount Taurus ; and,
according to Strabo, it extended from Olbia on the W. to
Ptolemais on the E. The inhabitants of Pamphylia, as
the name of the country imports, were at first a collection
of many different races. These were recruited in course
of time by Cilicians and bands of emigrant Greeks. Yet
the smallness of the country rendered it unable to play any
important part in history. Along with the rest of Asia
Minor, it fell successively into the power of the Persians,
the Greeks, and the Romans. The principal towns of Pam¬
phylia were Olbia, Attalia (Adalia), Perge, Aspendus, and
Side (Eski Adalia); its chief rivers were the Catarrhactes
(Duden-Su), Cestrus (Ak-Su), Eurymedon (Kapri-Su), and
Melas (Scheher-Su.)
Pamplona.
P A M
PAN
225
PAMPLONA, a city of Spain, the capital of the province
of Navarre, and an episcopal see, in N. Lat. 42. 50., W.
Long. 1. 42., 220 miles N.N.E. of Madrid. It is situated in
a plain on the left bank of the Arga, closed on three sides by
the Pyrenees, and forming what is called the Cuenca or
bowl of Pamplona. The site is level, except on the N.,
where there is a descent towards the suburb. Owing to
its position, its general climate is cold and humid; heavy
snows and rain accompany the N. and N.W. winds in
winter, while in summer the S. wind brings excessive heat.
The purity of the air, however, and cleanliness of the town,
render it tolerably salubrious. Pamplona has always been
the frontier key and principal fortress of Navarre, com¬
manding thd plains. The fortifications form a rectangle, of
which the N.E. and N.W. sides, La Magdalena and La
liochapea, face the river, which has a semicircular bend to
the N. about the town. On the S.W. side, La Taconera,
stands the citadel, constructed by Philip II. in 1571, after
the model of that of Antwerp. It is a pentagon, and is
separated from the city by an esplanade. It is calculated
to contain 7500 men, but the barracks and store places are
in very bad condition. The streets of the town are regular
and broad, running generally N.E. and S.W.; and the
cleanliness of the town is secured by a system of sewerage
superior to anything of the kind in Spain. There are three
plazas, of which the principal, De la Constitucion, formerly
Del Castillo, has a side of 146 yards, and contains a theatre
built in 1843, and the Casa de Diputacion. The plaza is
converted on festivals into a Plaza de Toros, and has in the
centre a fountain surmounted by a statue. The Plaza de
San Jose contains the cathedral and its residencies. The
cathedral, one of the finest in Spain, is a Gothic structure
built in 1397 by Carlos III., who is here interred; the pre¬
vious building, also a re-erection by Don Sancho in 1123,
having fallen into ruin, and nothing now remaining of it but
a portion of the cloisters. The principal fagade is Corin¬
thian, heavy and unsuitable, and was erected in 1783 from
the designs of Ventura Rodriguez. Remarkable in the
choir are the figures of saints and prophets, of English oak,
carved in 1530 by Miguel Ancheta, a native sculptor.
There are three parish churches besides that of Saint John
Baptist in the cathedral; the church of San Saturnino
and that of San Nicolas de Bari are of the twelfth century.
There are ten conventual buildings in the town, now mostly
devoted to other purposes. There are, besides the citadel,
seven buildings for military purposes ; four barracks, one in
the ancient palace of the kings of Navarre, the others in
convents ; a military hospital; and a powder magazine. Of
places of amusement, there are the theatre already men¬
tioned; two buildings for ball-playing, one of which, El Trin-
quete, a fine hall with two galleries, is the most frequented ;
and a fine Plaza de Toros, capable of holding 8000 specta¬
tors. The six fountains of the city are supplied by means
of a superb aqueduct from Monte Francoa, 2^ leagues in
length, built from the designs of Ventura Rodriguez at the
end of last century. This fine work suffered much damage
in the last civil war. Pamplona has always been distin¬
guished for its love of letters and attention to public instruc¬
tion. The institute of secondary instruction has fourteen
professors, with good museum and library, and an average
attendance of about 300 pupils. It is situated in the Plaza
e San Jose, by the cathedral. The Academy of Design is
a fine hall in the lower storey of the Franciscan convent, is
supported by the municipal funds, and numbers about 150
pupils, partly gratuitous. There are, besides, a normal
school for male and one for female teachers ; an infant
sc io(ff ; a public boys’ school, attended by about 600 pupils ;
a gnls school, conducted by the nuns of Sta. Catalina de
Sena, attended by about 500 pupils, of whom above a third
aie giatuitous; and several other private establishments.
I here are three hospitals—the General Hospital for sick,
\ ol. xvir.
the Casa de Misericordia, and the Casa de Maternidad, pan.
which is also an orphan and a foundling hospital. Of the i
public gardens and paseos, the finest is that of La Taconera,
which is also the most frequented in summer. The district
of country near the town is tolerably fertile, producing a
considerable quantity of grain and seeds, and the light-red
wine called chacoli. By the river are many irrigated gar¬
dens, from which the town derives most of its vegetables.
Besides agriculture, the only branch of industry of any im¬
portance is the manufacture of linen. Grain is exported to
the mountainous regions of Navarre and Guipuzcoa. The
weekly provision markets on Saturday are well supplied,
and the market-places are numerous and commodious. The
yearly fair, and feast of San Fermin, patron of the city, takes
place 29th June to 18th July, and on these days the
town is filled with the unusual concourse of people from all
parts of the country. The tradition is, that the town was
founded by Tubal, a.m. 1840; historically, its foundation is
due to Pompey the Great, from whom it derived its name of
Pompeiiopolis, now corrupted to Pamplona. It was captured
by Euric the Goth in 466, and afterwards by the Franks in
542, under Childebert. Charlemagne dismantled it in 778,
in which state it remained till the eleventh century, when the
three districts of the town were separately fortified. The
continual intestine contests of these three fortresses caused
Carlos III., in the beginning of the fifteenth century, to
destroy the interior walls, and strengthen the common bul¬
warks. He also erected the citadel on the site now occu¬
pied by the Plaza de Toros and the Basilica de S. Ignacio,
built over the spot where that saint was wounded in defence
of the citadel against Andr6 de Foix in 1521. In the late
French war it was taken by stratagem by the French under
D’Armagnac, and remained in their power till recaptured
after a blockade by Wellington in 1813. In the civil war
that followed the death of Ferdinand VIL, Pamplona was
the strong place of the liberals. The citadel was seized
and held tor a short time by O’Donnell in September 1841.
Pop. (1848) 15,715.
PAN, the god of shepherds among the Greeks, was the
son of Mercury, and of a nymph, the daughter of Dryops.
He was born a noisy, grinning, hairy infant, fully equipped
with horns, a puck-nose, a beard, a tail, and the feet of a
goat. As soon as his mother saw her monstrous offspring,
she fled from him in horror, and left him to the care of his
father. Wrapped up in hare-skins, he was carried by Mer¬
cury to Olympus, and was there exhibited to the delighted
gods. He was then given out to nymphs to be nursed.
The young divinity grew up to be possessed of every rustic
accomplishment. His goat-feet could walk lightly and
gracefully through the mazes of the dance ; his hands could
wander nimbly and skilfully over the stops of the pastoral
pipe; and his piercing sight, dashing recklessness, and
wild lusty halloo, made him the very paragon of hunters.
Adorned with all these qualifications, Pan settled down in
Arcadia, and undertook the avocations of a rural deity.
During his hours of business he protected flocks, bees, and
game, and attended to the interests of shepherds, husband¬
men, and hunters. A less beneficent part of his employ¬
ment was to strike sudden fright into large herds of cattle,
to startle travellers in lonely places of the forest, and to
throw armies into irretrievable rout with a causeless alarm,
which was called after him Panic terror. In his hours of
leisure he took his mid-day slumber in a grotto, practised
upon the syrinx, made love to the nymphs, and conducted
with dance and song the greenwood merry-makings of the
rustic divinities. He would occasionally pay a visit to
Bacchus, a god to whom he was always welcome, on ac¬
count of his loud-ringing voice, and his musical and calis-
thenic accomplishments. Occasionally also would his
fondness for the sea lead him down to the coast to patronize
fishing and marine amusements. Pan had many temples
2 F
226 PAN
Panaenus and shrines erected to him in Arcadia. There were also
many other places in which his worship was observed.
Panama. Among these was Athens, where a chapel was dedicated to
V—him in consideration of the aid he had given to the Athe¬
nians at the battle of Marathon. His sacrifices were milk
and honey. In addition to his best-known character as a
god of Arcadia, Pan had also other characters. He was
identified with the Faunas of the Romans and the Mendes
of the Egyptians. He was also latterly considered as the
universal god of nature, as the impersonation of the uni¬
verse—to ttSv.
PANACNUS, a distinguished Greek painter, was the
nephew of the great sculptor Phidias, and flourished at
Athens in the fifth century b.c. His principal engage¬
ments were of a public nature. He ornamented with
painted stories of the gods the Olympian statue of Jupiter
which his illustrious uncle had executed. He was also
employed to paint with a mixture of saffron and milk the
roof of Minerva’s temple at Elis. But his masterpiece was
the “ Battle of Marathon,” which constituted one of the
decorations of the “ Poecile” at Athens. It contained por¬
traits of the Greek leaders Miltiades, Callimachus, and Cy-
naegirus; and of the Persian leaders Datis and Artapher-
nes. A further peculiarity was, that it represented the
fight in four different stages of its progress. In the first
the armies were about to engage ; in the second they were
maintaining an equal contest; in the third the Greeks
were beginning to rout their foes; and in the fourth the
Persians were escaping in disorder on board their ships.
PANiETIUS, a celebrated Stoic, was a native of
Rhodes, and flourished in the second century B.c. After
learning grammar at Pergamum under Crates of Mallus,
he settled in Athens as a student of the Stoa. Under
Diogenes of Babylon and Antipater of Tarsus, the succes¬
sive heads of the Stoical school, he rose to eminence and
repute. The great Roman, Scipio JSmilianus, became
his friend, and chose him for a travelling companion ; and
the Stoics, on the death of Antipater, elected him for their
master. It was in this latter capacity that Panaetius
established his reputation as an original expounder of the
ethical doctrines of his school. He modified the severely
abstract maxims of the Stoa into a form more suitable for
practical life ; supplied their defects from the systems of
Aristotle, Xenocrates, Theophrastus, Dicaearchus,and Plato;
and clothed them in the fascinating garb of simile and rhe¬
torical ornament. Rectitude was defined to be “ living in
conformity with our natural impulses.” The virtues were
divided into contemplative and active; and the useful and
the honourable qualities in actions were declared to be co¬
incident. The principal work in which Panaetius embodied
these principles was a treatise On Duty in three books. It
is not extant, but its contents have been incorporated in
the first two books of Cicero’s De Officiis.
PANAMA, a town of New Granada, on the southern
shore of the isthmus of the same name, stands on a tongue
of land projecting into the Bay of Panama, N. Lat. 8. 57.,
W. Long. 79. 30. The plan of the town possesses some
regularity, but is not entirely uniform; the principal
streets extend across the peninsula on which it is built.
The streets are better cleaned than in most of the Spanish
towns in America. It is for the most part substantially
built in the old Spanish style, and all the larger houses
have interior courts, or patios, as they are called. The
chief public edifices are—an elegant cathedral, several con¬
vents, a nunnery, and a college. The fortifications of the
town consist of high walls and irregularly-constructed bas¬
tions, which have been added at various times, as the pro¬
tection of the place required. The harbour of Panama is
sheltered by several islands at some distance from the land.
These form one of the finest roadsteads in the world, with
very safe anchorage. The trade of the place is very con-
P A N
siderable, and is likely to be much increased by the railway Panamd
which has been recently constructed between this place ||
and Aspinwall, on the Atlantic shore of the isthmus, al- Pana-
though the immediate effect of this improvement has been v theDaea»
to reduce the importance of Panama in comparison with
Aspinwall. Quinine bark, cacao, India-rubber, hides, pearl
oysters, and other articles, are exported from hence to
Europe ; and it is expected that most of the trade formerly
carried on round Cape Horn will now pass through Panama.
The town was originally built by the Spaniards, on a spot
about 3 miles to the east of the modern town ; but it was
burned down in 1670 by Sir Henry Morgan, the buca-
neer, and afterwards rebuilt in its present position. Pop.
6000..
Panama, or Dakien, Isthmus of, connects the conti¬
nents of North and South America, and forms a state of
the republic of New Granada. Its shape is that of an arc
of a circle, curving towards the N., and inclosing the Bay
of Panama on the S. Both sides of the isthmus are in¬
dented by several creeks and harbours, of which the most
important are Port Escoces and Navy Bay on the N., and
the harbours of Panama and San Miguel on the S. The
interior of the isthmus is little known. Part of it is occu¬
pied by the Cordillera, or great mountain chain which ex¬
tends through the American continent; but this mountain¬
ous region is interrupted by tracts of low level ground.
These plains are well watered, thickly wooded, and rich in
minerals and the vegetable produce of tropical countries.
Besides the railway from Aspinwall to Panama, a canal has
been proposed from Port Escoces to San Miguel. The
breadth of the isthmus varies from 30 to 70 miles, being
narrowest at Panama. The chief river of Panama is the
Chagres, which flows first westward, then northward, and falls
into the Atlantic, after a course of 80 or 90 miles, for 44 of
which it is navigable by barges. Before the construc¬
tion of the railway it was of much importance, as goods
were conveyed by it part of the distance across the isth¬
mus ; and the town of Chagres, at its mouth, was the chief
port on the north side of Panama. This was, however, at
best a wretchedly-built and very unhealthy place, with a
shallow and unsheltered harbour, and is now quite deserted,
having been supplanted by the new town of Aspinwall on
Navy Bay. Pop. of the state of Panama, 138,108.
PAN AON, a small island in the Philippine group, lies
between those of Leyte and Mindanao, N. Lat. 9. 55., E.
Long. 125. 8. Its length is about 18 miles, and its circum¬
ference 45 miles. There are several small rivers in the
island.
PANATHENiEA (JJavaOr/vaLa), an ancient Athenian
festival in honour of Athena, the protectress of Athens.
Harpocration and Suidas refer the institution of this festival
to Erichthonius IV., King of Athens, who lived before
Theseus. Theodoret alone says that the feast was esta¬
blished by Orpheus. But be this as it may, till the time of
Theseus it was never a particular feast of the city of Athens,
and was simply called Athencca ; that prince, however, hav¬
ing united all the people of Attica into one republic, they
afterwards assisted at the festival; and hence the name
Panathencea, or the feast of all Attica. In effect, all Attica
was present; and each division of the people sent a bullock
for the sacrifices, and for the entertainment of the vast
multitude of people assembled. There were two festivals
under this denomination, the greater and the lesser. The
greater Panathensea were celebrated in the third year of
each Olympiad, probably on the 28th of Hecatombaeon;
the less, annually. Though the celebration of neither em¬
ployed at first more than one day, yet in after times they
were protracted for the space of many days, and solemnized
with greater preparations and magnificence than at their
first institution. The ceremonies were the same in the
greater and the lesser Panathenaea, excepting a banner, on
PAN
PAN
Panaulon which the actions of the goddess were represented in em-
II broidery, executed by maids, with the names of those who
Pancsova. distinguished themselves in the service of the republic.
V'—This only was borne at the greater. Prizes were esta¬
blished for three different kinds of combat. The first con¬
sisted of foot and horse races ; the second, of athletic exer¬
cises ; and the third, of poetical and musical contests.
These last are said to have been instituted by Pericles.
Singers of the first class, accompanied by performers on the
flute and the cithara, exercised their talents upon subjects
prescribed by the directors of these exhibitions. (See
MeursiuSjParaa^., Lugd. Bat. 1619.; H. A. Muller, Panath.,
Bonn, 1837; K. O. Muller, in Phil. Museum, vol. ii., p.
227, &c.)
PANAULON, an enlarged German-flute, with sixteen
finger-keys, and descending as low as G in the treble clef,
with two ledger lines under the stave. It was invented
some years ago by Trexler of Vienna. To remedy its incon¬
venient length, the lower end was curved. The quality of
its tone is not so good as that of the common German-flute ;
but still the panaulon may be effectively used in orchestra
music as a bass to the other flutes.
PANAY, the central island of the Philippines, lies be¬
tween N. Lat. 10.25. and 11. 50., E. Long. 122. and 123.10.,
having Mindoro on the N.W., Masbate on the N.E., and
Negros on the S.E. Its form is triangular ; its length, 110
miles; breadth, 100 miles; area, about 4579 square miles.
The surface is mountainous, especially in the N.E. and
S.W.; but it is well watered, and has a fertile soil. Along
the western coast there is a low, well-cultivated tract of
ground, containing several villages and a large population.
Bice, maize, sugar, tobacco, coffee, and other crops are
raised on the island; and in the interior there are extensive
forests of valuable timber. Buffaloes, wild oxen, stags, &c.,
abound, as well as birds of great beauty. Turtle and fish
are obtained on the shores and in the rivers. The women
are chiefly employed in weaving; while the men work at
agriculture, fishing, cutting wood, making oil and sugar,
&c. I he island is divided into the provinces of Iloilo,
Capiz, and Antique. Iloilo, the chief town, has a harbour
capable of affording safe anchorage to a large number of
vessels. Many coasting ships frequent it, and some com¬
merce is carried on. The resources of the island are such
as to lead to the expectation of its making rapid progress
and attaining great prosperity. Pop. 559,861.
PANCRAS, St., a parish of England, in the county of
Middlesex, forming a part of London towards the north.
The church of St Pancras in the Fields contains many in¬
teresting monuments. I here is also a new church, which
is a fine specimen of the Athenian-Ionic style of archi¬
tecture. Area of the parish, 2716 acres. Pop. (1851)
166,956.
PANCRATIUM (compounded of ttov, all, and /cparos,
strength) signifies properly an athletic game in which all
the powers of the athlete were brought into play. It
consisted of wrestling and boxing; but the athletes were not
permitted to seize the body, and their hands were not armed
with gauntlets. The 'pancratium was the third and the
most severe of all the gymnastic exercises of Greece, and
was not introduced till long after the others. The people
who were engaged in these exercises were called pancra-
tiast(B,~& name which was also given to such as did not
confine themselves to one exercise, but succeeded in several
itterent ones. (See J. H. Krause, Die Gum. und Agon,
der Hellenen, vol. i.)
u a town of the Austrian empire, in the
ana i itary Frontier, stands on the Temes near its junc¬
tion with the Danube, 8 miles E.N.E. of Belgrade. It
con ains a oman Catholic and a Greek church, and two
c ioo s. any of the houses are well built, and inhabited
by Germans and Greek merchants. Manufactures of beet¬
root sugar and of silk are carried on ; and there is an active
trade in corn, timber, and cattle. Pop. (1851), exclusive
of the military, 11,043.
PANDECTS. See Civil Law.
PANDORA (from ttSv, every, and Scopov, a gift), a per¬
sonage who is represented in classical mythology as the
first mortal woman. The following account is her history, as
given by Hesiod:—Jupiter, enraged at Prometheus for hav¬
ing stolen fire from heaven, resolved to send upon the earth
some great evil under a lovely and bewitching disguise.
Vulcan was accordingly commanded to create out of clay a
female possessing the form and features of an immortal
goddess. The divinities of Olympus were then summoned
to adorn the new being with their gifts. Venus breathed
upon her grace and beauty, Mercury instilled into her mind
insinuating and impudent artifices, Minerva taught her do¬
mestic accomplishments and clothed her with becoming gar¬
ments, and the Hours and Graces decked her with golden
necklaces and crowned her with flowering chaplets. Thus
adorned, as the name then given to her implied, with all
the gifts of the gods, Pandora was sent by the hand of
Mercury to Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus. That
infatuated individual, although warned beforehand, accepted
the fascinating present, and entailed perpetual misery upon
the human race. In a short time, a peculiar vase came
under the inquisitive eye of the woman; her hand was
tempted to open it; a swarm of plagues, privations, and
miseries hitherto kept imprisoned, immediately flew forth
to haunt the world for ever; and Hope alone remained at
the bottom.
PANEEPUT, a town of British India, capital of a dis¬
trict of the same name in the territorial division of Delhi,
N.W. Provinces, stands in a fertile country, 78 miles N. of
Delhi, and 965 N.W. of Calcutta. The numerous white
spires and domes of the various temples render Paneeput
a beautiful object when seen from a distance. Most of the
houses are built of brick, and are provided with balconies.
The walls and ramparts, with which the town is surrounded,
are of an irregular kind, having been built at several dif¬
ferent periods. There are here two caravanserais, which
contribute greatly to the importance of the town. In the
vicinity there are a great number of tombs in ruins, and
many of these are remarkable for size and splendour. The
neighbourhood of Paneeput, lying in the great military
highway between Eastern India and Afghanistan, has been
more than once the field of great battles. Here, in 1526,
Baber gained the victory over the Patan King of Delhi,
which overthrew that dynasty; and here, in 1761, the
Mahrattas were conquered by the Afghans under Ahmed
Shah. Pop. (1853) 22,612.
Paneeput, a district of British India, in the division of
Delhi, bounded on the N. and W. by the division of Sir-
hind, S. by the district of Delhi, and E. by those of Meerut
and Mozuffurnuggur. It lies between N. Lat. 28. 50. and
29. 48., E. Long. 76. 40. and 77-16., having a length of 65
miles from N. to S., a breadth of 30 miles, and an area of
1279 square miles. The surface is flat, and well watered by
natural streams and by artificial canals; but in many parts
it is quite barren, and covered with a saline incrustation
resembling snow in its appearance. The principal river
is the Jumna, which flows along the eastern boundary of
the district. Pop. (1853) 389,085.
PANEGYRIC (Travrjyvpis), an oration in praise of some
extraordinary person or thing. The name is composed of
ttSv, all, and dyetpw, I assemble ; because anciently in public
and solemn assemblies of the Greeks, either at their games,
feasts, fairs, or religious meetings, panegyrics were pro¬
nounced. To render these the more solemn, the Greeks used
to begin with the praises of the deity in whose honour the
games were celebrated; next they descended to the praise of
the people or country where they were celebrated; then they
227
Pandects
228
P A N
Panel lauded the princes or magistrates who presided at them ;
II _ and, lastly, they bestowed eulogies on the champions, espe-
Pannonia. cjai]y tile conquerors, who had gained the prizes in them.
PANEL, according to Sir Edward Coke, is derived from
-pane, a part, and denotes “a little part;” but the learned
Spelman says that it signifies schedula velpagina, a sche¬
dule or roll, as a panel of parchment, or a counterpane of
an indenture; whilst others derive it from the French panne,
a skin. It is used more particularly for a schedule or roll,
containing the names of such jurors as the sheriff returns
to pass upon any trial. Hence the impanelling a jury is
the entering their names in a panel or little schedule of
parchment.
PANIONIA, a great national festival of all the lonians,
celebrated on Mount Mycale, in honour of Poseidon, their
national deity. In this festival, if the bull offered in sacri¬
fice happened to bellow, it was accounted an omen of divine
favour, because that sound was thought to be acceptable to
the god. These national gatherings were frequently poli¬
tical as well as religious.
PANMELODICON, an instrument invented by Lep-
pich at Vienna in 1810. By means of a conical barrel
moved by a wheel, rods of metal, bent to a right angle,
were made to sound when the finger-keys were pressed
down.
PANNINI, Giovanni Paolo, an eminent Italian
painter, was born at Piacenza in 1691. At Rome, where
he completed his preparatory studies, he devoted his atten¬
tion chiefly to the painting of architecture, and acquired
great excellence in that branch of art. Although prone to
make his figures too large in proportion to the buildings,
and to fall into the mannerism of mixing a reddish hue in
his shadows, he was unsurpassed in his management of
perspective. His groups of figures were also admirable
for their grace, variety, and vivacity. All these qualities
were displayed with especial advantage in his picture of the
“ Money-Changers driven from the Temple.” Pannini died
in 1764.
PANNONIA, a Roman province, was bounded on the
W. by Noricum and Italy, on the S. by Illyricum and
Mcesia, and on the E. and N. by the Danube, and corre¬
sponded to that track including Croatia, Slavonia, and por¬
tions of Austria, Hungary, and Bosnia. The early history
of the country is involved in obscurity. Some suppose
that its original inhabitants were Paeonians, who gradually
came to call themselves Pannonians. A more probable
opinion is, that it was colonized by Celtic tribes. At any
rate, in 35 b.c. the Romans found the district in a low
state of civilization. The extensive forests which cumbered
the soil prevented the pursuits of agriculture; and the
natives, divided into several tribes, which seem to have
acknowledged separate chiefs, were addicted to war and
rapine. From that date, however, a change slowly began
to come over the social state and government of Pannonia.
In 8 a.d., after an obstinate resistance, it was ultimately
subjugated and reduced to the form of a Roman province
by Tiberius. In the second century it was divided into
two parts, Upper Pannonia, on the W., and Lower Pan¬
nonia, on the E. In the third and fourth centuries the
emperors Probus and Galerius cleared the soil of much of
the wood, and made room for the operations of agriculture.
Meanwhile roads had been made, colonies had been planted,
and Roman legions in the various fortresses, and a Roman
fleet on the Danube, protected the government of the
■ountry. Pannonia retained this social organization until
the middle of the fifth century, when it was ceded to the
Huns.
I he most important towns in Lower Pannonia were—
Vindobona {Vienna), Carnuntum, Sabaria {Sancar),
yEmona {Laybach), and Siscia (Siszeg). Those in Upper
Pannonia were Acincum {Alt-Buda), Mursa {Erzek), and
P A N
Sirmium. The principal rivers were the Arrabo {Raab), Panorama,
the Dravus {Drave), and the Savus {Save), all flowing into
the Danube.
PANORAMA (from ttFlv, all, and opaga, a view) is a
picture drawn on the interior surface of a large cylinder,
representing the objects that can be seen from one station,
when the observer directs his eye successively to every
point of the horizon. A picture drawn on a vertical plane
in the usual way includes only that portion of the sphere of
vision that can be seen from one point opposite to the pic¬
ture, without turning the eye; this portion may compre¬
hend about thirty degrees of the horizon, because the field
of distinct vision when the eye remains unmoved is con¬
cluded in a cone, the angle at the apex of which does not
exceed thirty degrees. There are compositions compre¬
hending the visible hemisphere, and sometimes nearly the
whole sphere of vision ; and in these, one connected scene
is represented on the interior surfaces of a polyhedron or
of a curved solid, the point of sight being in the centre of
the polyhedron, and the eye being turned round on its
centre to each of its surfaces, in order to view the whole
scene. Of this kind are the gnomonic projection of the
sphere on the interior surfaces of a cube, and several pic¬
tures, in which one connected subject is represented on the
ceiling and the sides of a room ; such as the picture of “Ju¬
piter Fulminating the Giants,” by Giulio Romano, on the
walls and hemispherical ceiling of a round room in the
Palazzo del T at Mantua; and the architectural represen¬
tations and ornaments in Raphael’s Loggie in the Vatican.
Objects are also sometimes projected on the interior sur¬
face of a sphere, the eye being placed in the centre; as in
a large hollow sphere with the constellations, which was
constructed at Pembroke College, Cambridge. These
projections, where the eye, remaining in the point of sight,
is turned round on its centre to view the different parts of
the picture, are formed on the same principle as the pa¬
norama.
The cylindrical surface is the most convenient for pano¬
ramas of landscapes; and the specific employment of a large
cylindrical surface for representing the landscape of the
whole circle of the horizon is the invention of Robert
Barker, who brought the panorama into use about the year
1794. The cylinder on which the panorama is painted is
commonly about sixty feet in diameter. The projection or
perspective of a panorama is formed by imaginary lines
drawn from different points of the surrounding objects to
the point of sight in the axis of the cylinder. The inter¬
sections of these lines with the cylindrical surface form the
corresponding points in the panoramic picture. Where the
picture is projected on a plane, as in common perspective,
and in the gnomonic projection of the sphere, the cones
formed by imaginary lines or rays passing from the point
of sight to the different objects are cut by the plane of the
picture; consequently the sections, being formed by a
plane, are curves of which the curvature is always simple.
In the perspective of the panorama, where the picture con¬
sists of the intersection of the cones of rays by a cylinder,
these intersections are, in many of the cases, doubly curved
curves. When the picture of a straight line which is
neither parallel to the horizon nor to the axis of the cylin¬
der is drawn on the cylinder of the panorama, the picture
of the line is part of an ellipse, because the oblique section
of a right cylinder, by a plane passing through the axis, is
an ellipse; when the cylinder is developed and unrolled on
a plane surface, this ellipse becomes the curve called the
sinical curve. The projection of lines on the interior sur¬
face of a cylinder is also employed in drawing Mercator’s
charts. But in the projection of the panorama, the field
extends only a few degrees above and below' the horizon,
whereas in the projections of the sphere, the field extends
many degrees on each side of the plane, which is at right
Panormus
II
Pantheism.
Descrip-
tv on of
Pantheism.
Specula¬
tive origin
of Panthe¬
ism.
PAN
angles to the axis of the cylinder. In drawing a panorama,
as well as in drawing a picture on a plane, the horizontal
angles between different objects may be observed by a
plane table or theodolite; and the elevation ot the objects
above the horizon, or their depression, may also be observed
by the theodolite. The horizontal angles are to be laid
down by setting off on the graduated horizon of the cylin¬
drical picture the number of the degrees observed; the
vertical angles on the cylinder are the tangents of the
angles observed, the radius being the semidiameter of the
cylinder.
PANORMUS. See Palermo.-
PANTALONE, an instrument invented about the end
of the seventeenth century by Hebenstreit, a German. It
resembled the German psaltery, was of an oblong shape,
P A N 229
and had two sound-boards, the one furnished with metal Pantella-
wires, the other with gut-strings. Its compass was the ria
same as that of the harpsichord. II
PANTELLARIA (anciently Cossyra), an island be- \.a^thei™'
longing to Sicily, in the Mediterranean, 50 miles E.S.E. of
Cape Bon, and 80 miles S.W. of the coast of Sicily. The
coasts are steep and rocky, affording a landing-place only
in one harbour; and the surface is mountainous, and of
volcanic origin. It contains mineral springs, and a lake of
great depth. The soil is fertile, producing vines, figs, &c.
The principal town, which is called Pantellaria, and some¬
times also Oppidolo, is built in the form of a semicircle
round the harbour, which has a narrow entrance. It con¬
tains several churches ; and is defended by a castle occu¬
pied by a Sicilian garrison. Pop. of the island, 7000.
PANTHEISM.
Pantheism (ttSv, all, ®eos, God), is that speculative sys¬
tem which, by absolutely identifying the Subject and Ob¬
ject of thought, reduces all existence, mental and material,
to phenomenal modifications of one eternal, self-existent
Substance, which is called by the name of God.
The rational solutions of the problem of existence hitherto
proposed reduce themselves to the two great classes of Dual¬
ism and Unitarianism. The former divides being or sub¬
stance between two original principles, the latter limits it
to one. Three possible ontological theories emerge from
Unitarianism, according as we identify absolute reality with
Self, with the World, or with Deity:—1. Are all things
educed from, and identified with, Self? Egoism emerges, of
which the corollary is properly Atheism. 2. Are all things
educed from, and identified with, Matter? Materialism
emerges, of which the corollary is also properly Atheism.
3. Are all things educed from, and identified with, Deity?
Pantheism emerges, which is subject to two grand subdivi¬
sions, according as He is conceived of as exhausted or as un¬
exhausted in the act of producing the universe. 1°. Is he
regarded as exhausted in the act ? Material, physical, real
Pantheism is the result, which is subject to further modifica¬
tions, and of which the proper formula is, All things are God,
and God is all things. 2°. Is he regarded as unexhausted
in the act ? Spiritual, ideal, intellectual Pantheism is the
result, admitting also of further modifications, and of which
the proper formula is, All things are God, hut God is not all
things. According to the former scheme, the one neces¬
sary eternal being is identified with the universe, the pro¬
gressive evolution of material nature being regarded as the
development and adequate expression of the entire Divine
existence ; by the latt6r scheme, the universe is regarded
as a necessary yet inexhaustive evolution of Infinite Being,
of which it forms an essential part.
As pantheistic speculation finds its origin in that intellec¬
tual ambition which would aspire to universal knowledge, and
would rest satisfied only with the personal subjugation of
the empire of being, it is not to be supposed that it should
be limited in its development to any particular time, age, or
country. I he peculiar class of thinkers likely to be deter¬
mined towards pantheism are found to rise up in almost
all times and in nearly all places.1 * The humble walks of
sober induction are discarded as beneath the notice of a
lofty and daring genius bent upon the achievement of all
knowledge and the conquest of all existence ; a position of
the highest abstraction is assumed, properly indeterminate
and absolutely general, from which, without any regard to
what knowledge or existence really is, it becomes the task
of the formal ontologist to deduce the particular and deter¬
minate of knowledge and existence. But neither boldness
of design nor brilliancy of execution can atone either to
philosophy or to humanity for the essential error and danger¬
ous results which are invariably attendant upon all such at¬
tempts to transgress the fixed boundaries which One wiser
than we has assigned to our intellectual operations. Such
frequent attempts, however, and such conspicuous failures,
bring with them their lesson of wisdom. And this lesson
may surely be read in the history of pantheistic speculation.
The origin of pantheistic philosophy can be traced back Historical
to near the dawn of reflection in the remote East; and origin of
among no class of thinkers has this speculative system Pautheism-
found more favour, or a more constant advocacy, than
among the dreamy and subtle Orientals. In the front rank
stands India, that great centre of speculative activity in the
East, which has given birth to pantheistic systems as vast
and various as the country on whose soil they grew. Not that
speculative systems of rigid scientific strictness, or of an
exclusively philosophical character, are to be found among
the schools of the Hindus, so far as they are yet known to
Europeans. For, with all that has been admiringly said re¬
garding the scientific grandeur and completeness of the
Hindu systems of philosophy, we always find, on coming
into actual contact with them, that, pervaded as they are
by marvellous acuteness, they nevertheless, from their
semi-religious, semi-poetical character and colouring, fail
to satisfy the demands of rigid scientific speculation both
in connected severity of thought and in clear accuracy ot
expression. This may no doubt in some measure arise
from our imperfect acquaintance with their systems; but
it is beyond a doubt, that those who fling the pantheistic
speculations of the Hindus as a triumphant taunt in the
face of Spinozism, as if all that the subtle Jew had accom¬
plished had been often and better done before, do so either
in ignorance or through sheer wantonness. For there can
be no question whatever, that, so far as history informs us,
no pantheistic theory has ever been forged by the brain
of man so complete in conception and masterly in exe¬
cution as that elaborated by Spinoza. In point of fact,
however, Spinoza, with all his iron logic and severity of
system, never rises to heights more purely pantheistic than
are to be found among the mystical speculations of the
Hindus. The main distinction is, that the Orientals vivi¬
fy their philosophy with a spirit of religion, and clothe
it with a garniture of poetry; while, with the western
pantheist, speculation is a matter almost entirely of the
intellect, and no extraneous consideration whatever, apart
1 Pantheistic tendencies are found,” says H. Ritter, “ wherever religion and philosophy are to he found, even among the islanders of
tie outh Sea. (Hist, of Anc. Philosophy, vol. i., u Origin of Greek Philosophy.'5)
PANTHEISM.
230
Pantheism, from the direct, undeviating path of a rigorous logic, finds
v—^ any place in the system of this stern thinker.
Hindu Pan- The Hindus themselves reckon six different schools of
theism. Indian philosophy, all regarded as offshoots from the pri¬
mordial doctrines of the Brahmans or sacerdotal caste,
viZ->—]. The Sankhya, attributed to Kapila; 2. The Yoga
schools of Pantanjali and the Bhagavad-Gitd; 3. The
Purva-Mimansa, attributed to Jaimini; 4. The Vedanta,
or Uttara-Mimansa, by the Vyasa1 Krishna Dwaipayana;
5. Ngaya, of Gautama; 6. The Vaisheshika, of Kanada.2
The doctrines of these six schools, however, may be con¬
veniently included under the three general systems deno¬
minated the Sankhya (including Nos. 1 and 2), the Nyaya
(including 5 and 6), and the Vedic system (including
3 and 4). Curious to say, the only one of these schools
considered by the Hindus to be orthodox or conformable to
the doctrine of the Vedas, or sacred books, is the Purva-
Mimansa, which is more a Brahmanical essay on the Vedas,
of very indifferent merit, than a regular treatise on philo¬
sophy.3 The Sankhya system exhibits a twofold develop¬
ment,—the one atheistic, by Kapila; the other theistic, by
Pantanjali. Both agree, however, in being dualistic, ad¬
mitting, as they do, two real and substantial principles,—
Material Nature and the Human Soul,—and are thus ex¬
cluded from present consideration. The system termed the
Nyaya is properly a scheme of logic, at once complicated
and elaborate, followed up by a complemental theory of the
physical world. It is to the system termed Vedic, accord¬
ingly, that we have to direct our attention.4
The Vedanta philosophy is the very incarnation of pan¬
theism ; and there can be no conceivable ramification of
that system which does not find a place among the com¬
plicated subtleties of this singular body of doctrines. The
great end of man’s life, according to this philosophy, is to
free himself from all vicissitude, and to attain to perfect
repose. This can only be achieved by disengaging him¬
self from that which is transient, and by attaching himself
to that which is fixed, eternal, and absolute. Only two
paths are open to such a deliverance,—science and good
works; and but one of them leads to the golden gates of
silence and rest. Good works, as transient in their nature,
can only produce a corresponding degree of satisfaction;
but science, as devoted to the contemplation of the supreme
unity, which is subject to no change, can elevate man above
all vicissitude, and secure for him enduring satisfaction.5
But how is such a consummation to be achieved ? Sense
cannot attain this science, for it has to do with the transi¬
tory ; reasoning is likewise insufficient, for the discursive
faculty, as essentially relative, can never become the mea¬
sure of the absolute. To attain to immutable being, ac¬
cordingly, it is necessary to approach it through that reve¬
lation which has been preserved in all ages by the divinely
initiated. Sense must be ignored, and all desire for the Pantheism,
temporal and earthly must be completely foregone. The
aspirant to science must become absorbed in pious medita¬
tion, must forget his own individuality, and make the ob¬
ject of his contemplation the Supreme Existence,—the great
end of life being not “the union of Self with Supreme
Spirit,” but to know that all is unity. “ Best of all is the
identification of Soul with the Supreme Spirit.”6 * The
novice can then have the mysteries of science disclosed to
him ; and the sum of the revelation is contained in the
formula—All is soul; Brahma (or Deity) alone exists;
everything else is an illusion? “ Listen to the complete
compendium of the Puranas, according to its tenor. The
world was produced from Vishnu:8 9 it exists in him: he
is the cause of its continuance and cessation: he is the
world.'’9 Having reached this sublime abstraction, the
Vedantists labour to give validity to it by considerations
drawn from the very idea of Brahma. If there existed out
of Brahma, who is the one eternal, absolute, unlimited be¬
ing, existences, limited, manifold, complex, they must have
been produced by him. But as they are repugnant to his
very essence, it would be impossible for Brahma to produce
them, unless he possessed within himself the real source
of limitation, multiplicity, and imperfection. It accord¬
ingly follows, continue these speculators, that the mind of
man stands in a twofold relation to the universe,—the one
resembling a state of sleep or dreaming, the other that of
being awake. In the former state man realizes phantasms
only, and hence regards the multiplicity of beings in the
universe as distinct from Brahma ; but when he rises to the
waking state, these phantoms of the brain vanish before
the coming light of science, and he at once recognises
Brahma as everything, and addresses him as “ Thou All !”lu
Mind and Matter, in their mutual antithesis and reality, are
here of course destroyed. All particular beings, whether
spiritual or material, are not even simple modifications of
the Divine substance in the same sense in which they are
regarded in some systems of pantheism ; the universe, ma¬
terial and mental, is nothing but the spectacle of the
thoughts of Deity, which he represents to himself by con¬
templating their possible combinations if realized out of him¬
self. For the law of Causality, which exists in every mind,
the refining Hindu substitutes the doctrine of Emanation ;
and thus discovers, by quite irrefragable logic, that what we
call Matter is a mere illusion, and Mind but an empty dream.
Corresponding with these two conditions of human thought
and life, there exists in the Vedantist philosophy two sepa¬
rate languages,—the one, that of illusion; the other, that
of science. The one language is expressive of the relative
and the apparent, the other of the absolute and the real.
Parallel series of propositions are thus to be found in this
philosophy which are apparently contradictory and mutu-
1 This Vyasa (compiler) is generally written and spoken of in most books of philosophy as if it were a proper name, whereas it is
used here emphatically to distinguish the last of the 28 vyasas or compilers, who are generally regarded as the redactors of the Vedas.
(See The Bhagavad-Gitd, a Sanskrit philosophical poem, translated by J. C. Thomson, 1855, p. 69, note.)
^ See Weber’s Vorlesungen ueher die Indische Literatur-Geschichte, .Berlin, 1852.
3 For an account of the numerous philosophical sects among the Hindus, see Colebrooke’s Miscellaneous Essays, vol. i., “ Indian Sec¬
taries also H. H. Wilson’s Essays in the Asiatic Researches, vols. xvi. and xvii. x w T
4 The compilation of the Vedas remounts, according to Colebrooke, to the fourteenth century B.c., and according to Sir Wm. Jones, to
the sixteenth B.c.; while Ritter is emphatic in his rejection of the pretensions of the Hindu philosophy to a high antiquity. But on this
whole matter critical philosophers and oriental scholars seem alike at sea. , . ... .
6 “ The great end of life (or truth) is considered by the wise to be eternal; but it would be transient if it were accomplished through
transitory things. If you imagine that this great truth is the performance of religious acts, from which no recompense is sought, it
is not so; for such acts are the means of obtaining liberation, and truth is (the end) not the means ” (See W ilson s Vxshnu-Puranas,
252 ^ b Vishnu* Pur anas, chap. xiv.
* “ The knowledge that this spirit, which is essentially one, is one’s own, and in all other bodies is the great end or true wisdom of
one who knows the unity and true principles of things. As one diffusive air, passing through the perforatioris of a flute, is distinguished
as the notes of the scale, so the nature of the great spirit is single, though its forms be manifold, arising from the consequence of acts.
(Vishnu-Pur tin as, c. xiv., p. 253.) • m .... t> v »
8 The Supreme Being of the Hindus is regarded under the three relations of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Of this Trinity, Bra m
is the creator, Vishnu the preserver, ar 1 Shiva the destroyer and renovator of material forms. ^
9 Vishnu-Purtinas, c. i., p. 6. 10 See Cockburn Thomson s Bhagavad-Gxta, c. xi.
PANTHEISM.
231
Pantheism, ally destructive of each other. But the Vedantist reminds
us that there are radically two orders of things,—the real
and the illusory. He omits, however, to tell us how this
asserted illusion can arise out of the pure and absolute
essence of the unconditioned Brahma. To any intelligence
but that of a Vedantist it is no doubt palpably contradic¬
tory and absurd. Real or imaginary, contradictory or other¬
wise, this alleged state of illusion is a state of bondage,
suffering, and error ; but once free from it, the emancipated
thinker is no longer perplexed with distinctions, and forms,
and names; there is for him then no distinction, no name,
no form ; there is but one absolute substance, in which the
subject and object of thought are absolutely identical.
The Vedantist neophyte having passed through this
speculative novitiate, begins to reap the fruit of his vigils.
The practical tendencies of the system here emerge, and
in them we find, boldly and consistently conceived, and no
less boldly and consistently advocated, the normal tenden¬
cies of pantheism in their relation to human duty. When
man has attained to this superior knowledge of the Vedantist,
he is emancipated from all ignorance, and can know no error:
from ignorance, for in affirming Brahma, he affirms every¬
thing ; and from error, since he has annihilated the possi¬
bility of error, which implies a particular affirmation, in
annihilating the distinction of beings. He is not responsible,
and can commit no sin; for such conceptions, as implying
a right and a wrong, suppose distinction, which belongs to
the state of illusion, but can find no place in Brahma, where
all diversity ceases. He is freed, besides, from all activity,
which supposes a duality,—a subject and object of action,—
the very negation of that absolute unity and identity of all
things which his science has taught him. He feels no
emotion and is prompted by no desire, for he knows that,
in being Brahma, he possesses everything. During life,
the soul of the wise man continues, despite his know¬
ledge of Brahma, to be haunted by recollections of the
phantoms which flit through the realms of illusion, just as
the awakened sleeper remembers the incidentsof his dreams;
but when death comes, the emancipation is complete,—the
sage is stripped of every vestige of individuality,—he can
show no longer any trace of limitation,—in form and in name
he is mingled wuth and lost in Brahma, as rivers lose their
forms and names when they meet the ocean. Such, in
brief, is the pantheism of the Vedic schools of the Hindus.1
Other forms of speculative error, frequently spoken of
as pantheistic, exist among the Buddhists, the great oppos¬
ing sect of the Brahmans in the religion and philosophy of
the Hindus. But while these systems are heterodox and
Unitarian, they are nevertheless not properly pantheistic.
They oscillate between materialism and idealism, and one
of the schemes is so refined as to end in sheer egoism,
such as that of Fichte in Germany, admitting of no real
existence but that of Self or the Ego, which is alleged to be
eternal, and to draw from its own depths all phenomena.2
Such a system is properly atheistic.
SreekPan- In further tracing the historical evolutions of pantheistic
theism. speculation, we find ourselves at once transplanted from
India to Greece; for while the philosophical systems de¬
veloped in China, in Persia, in Egypt, in Chaldaea, and in Pantheism.
Phoenicia, were as false as they were various, they never- i v >
theless exhibit no instances of speculative theories legiti¬
mately pantheistic. And without waiting to consider the
vexed question of how much Greece owed to the philoso¬
phical ideas of the East, it is sufficient here briefly to as¬
certain the precise character of Greek speculation in itself,
irrespective of its peculiar genesis, which is at best ex¬
tremely problematical.3 It is but a shallow view of the
history of human development in matters of speculation
that would ascribe every similarity of doctrine or coinci¬
dence of thought to direct filiation ; for a comparatively
limited knowledge of the struggles of individual minds
towards scientific insight will not only warrant the possibility
of something more than even a general resemblance in
the speculative efforts of independent thinkers, but will
positively lead the inquirer to anticipate the independent
recurrence of the same methods, ideas, and sympathies, in
places the most distant and in times the most remote.
It is not necessary, therefore, apart from direct evidence,
to ascribe to a Hindu source, as is often done, every possible
vestige of the pantheistic theory recorded in the annals of
philosophy. Pantheism, if a great speculative error, is at
least not an unnatural one for erring men, as both history
and observation can attest; not unnatural either for Brah¬
man or Greek, Jew or German.
Passing over as dualistic the earliest speculative evolu- Anaximan-
tion of the Ionic school, with which began properly the der.
history of Greek thought, and the adherents of which fol¬
lowed what has been called the “ physical” method of in¬
vestigation, we approach the second development of Ionian
philosophy in the class called “ mathematicians,” which
originated with Anaximander4 of Miletus (611-547 B.C.),
the father of the pantheistic tendencies of Grecian specu¬
lation. With him began the purely deductive method of
philosophizing afterwards employed by the Pythagoreans
and Eleatics; and consequently, also, with him began the
disposition to develop the universe from one grand inde¬
terminate abstraction. The beginning of things (rj apxy)i
according to this geometrician, wras not Water, as Thales
had supposed, but the Infinite (to aTretpov). This Infinite or
primary existence is One, yet All. Finite things, of what¬
ever kind, are but the manifestations of this eternal unli¬
mited All. Creation takes place by an eternal motion of
the Infinite. It does not seem, however, that Anaximander
identified this Infinite Existence with Infinite Mind, much
less that he called it by the name of Deity. To all intents
and purposes, however, his grand error was identical with
that of Hegel and his school in modern times, who main¬
tain that “ creation is the mundane existence of God.”
The direct pantheistic conception of Deity was posterior
to the time of Anaximander.
Pythagoras (584-489 B.C.), the first among scientific pythago-
thinkers who called himself by the humble yet exalted title ras.
of “ philosopher,” took up the method of Anaximander,
and endeavoured to improve upon his notion of the apxV’
Like his predecessor, Pythagoras held the principle of
things to be absolute unity, from which multiplicity origi-
1 See De Theologumenis Vedenticorum, by K. J. H. Windischmann, Bonn, 1833; also W indischmann’s Die Philosophic im Fortgange der
Weltgeschichte ; and Ritter’s History of Ancient Philosophy, vol. iv., London, 1846.
2 The author of the Precis de VHistoire de la Philosophie (known to English readers as Henry’s ffisiory of Philosophy') falls into the
mistake of reckoning Egoism a species of Pantheism. In the Essai sur Pantheisme dans les Societes Modernes, par H. L. C. Maret, troi-
sieme edition, Paris, 1845, p. 176, the rhetorical Abbe falls into a similar mistake respecting Fichte, who is erroneously ranked by
him among the pantheists. This is a blunder, however, which is by no means peculiar to this churchman, for numerous writers, and
especially English ones,—have committed the same error.
3 The Greeks themselves admitted their obligations to the oriental philosophers. Among others, Ritter (Hist, of Anc. Phil., \o\. i.) and
Lewes (Biographical Hist, of Philosophy, Introd. to the library edition ; also Edinburgh Review, April, 1847), are tolerably decided, the
former particularly so,—as to the independent origin of Greek speculation ; while the modern orientalists, Roth (Geschichte unserer aben-
Idndischen Philosophie, vol. i.) and Gladisch (Die Relig. u. die Phil, in ihrer weltgesch. Entwickelung.) find nothing in the early Greek teach¬
ers but reproductions of eastern thought.
4 Let it be noted here, once for all, that biographies of the philosophers alluded to in this article will be found under the name of each
throughout the work.
232
PANTHEISM.
Pantheism, nated, and of which it was but the manifestation. This
^ v — J original principle was Number, and the absolute unity was
One. As One is the basis of all numerical calculation, so
also it is the last expression of our attempt to analyse the
Infinite. Therefore the Infinite must he One ; and Num¬
bers are the ultimate nature of things. The Pythagore¬
ans did not separate Numbers from things. “ They held
Numbers,” says Aristotle, “ to be the first principle, and,
as it were, the material cause {ykr]) of entities, as well as of
their peculiar manifestations.” (Metaph., b. i., c. 5.) As
to the precise significance which Numbers bore in the
theory of Pythagoras critics are not agreed. Some are in¬
clined to a literal, some to a symbolical interpretation ot the
term.1 However this may be, suffice it to say, that by re¬
ducing mind and matter to phenomenal manifestations of
the infinite and absolute One, he thereby constructed a
scheme essentially pantheistic. It remains doubtful, how¬
ever, as in the case of his predecessor, whether or not he
made mind an attribute of his Infinite One. Io reason
from the spurious and notoriously pantheistic works ascribed
to his followers, Timaeus of Locrum, and Ocellus Lucanus,
and thus convict the master of a pantheism which he did not
in terms avow, would be at once futile and foolish. Suffice
it to say, pantheism was there in substance, if not in name.
Xeno- Not"content with the solution which the great problem
phanes. of existence had received at the hands of the “ mathema¬
ticians,” Xenophanes the Eleatic (born 620 b.c.) came for¬
ward with what was in form a new theory, yet in substance
not widely different from that of his predecessors. Accord¬
ing to Pythagoras, the Infinite Unity contains and produces
everything. Xenophanes denied the possibility of such a
production. If aught was made, he alleged it must have
been either from that which was, or from that which was not:
not the former, for if it already was, it could not be made ;
not the latter, for out of nothing nothing can come {ex nihilo
nihil Jit). Creation being therefore impossible, it necessarily
follows that there is but one Being in the universe, eternal,
absolute, infinite. Of this unconditioned being all finite
existences, whether material or mental, are merely modifi¬
cations. But had not his predecessors reached this unity
of being before ? Wherein, then, did Xenophanes differ
from them in his doctrine of the One ? In this, that, as
Aristotle phrases it, “ he cast his eyes wistfully upon the
whole heaven, and pronounced that unity to be God.”
{Metaph. i. 5, § 7.) This Deity he endowed with self-exist¬
ence and intelligence ; but, denying him personality, he con¬
verted monotheism into pantheism.2 Parmenides, Melis-
sus, and Zeno, the other noted disciples of this school, while
identifying thought and existence, and continuing the Uni¬
tarian tendencies of the Eleatics generally, seem to have
stopped short of an articulate avowal ot pantheism. I hey
all agreed, however, in the essential unity of being, and in
the illusory character of sensible phenomena.
Heraclei- The next pantheist among the Greek ontologists was
tm- Heracleitus, “ the weeping philosopher” (born 503 b.c.).
The Eleatics founded their philosophy upon the certitude
of the Reason ; this thinker upon that of Sense. T he former
were rational pantheists; the latter was a material pantheist.
For while Heracleitus held that we became conscious
through the senses, he besides maintained that it was not
we that became conscious, but the universal intelligence
which became conscious in us. “ Inhaling,” he says,
“ through the breath the Universal Ether, which is Divine Pantheism.
Reason, we become conscious.” 3 W7ith this philosopher,
Fire was the first principle of things ; it was ever kindling,
ever dying out, and was identical with God. In this
“ perpetual flux and reflux” of things Hegel finds an anti¬
cipation of his doctrine, that “Being and non-Being is the
same” (Seyn undNichtseyn istdasselhe). Hegel accordingly
claims kindred with the melancholy old Greek, and alleges
that he has developed every position of the Heracleitic
system in his logic.
With Heracleitus the history of Greek pantheism pro¬
perly closes. The only result of the Unitarian systems of
Elea, which were mainly pantheistic, was, as in the case
of all erroneous forms of speculation, to shake the founda¬
tions of the human reason, and drive men to scepticism.
This determination of human thought is actually to be
found in the succeeding epoch among the Sophists. So¬
crates arose to put down the Sophists: Plato carried out
the method of Socrates ; and Aristotle brought this move¬
ment to a close. Philosophy in the hands of the Stagirite was
once more reduced to a system ; but it was not long till
the sceptics of the succeeding epoch arose to demolish it.
Doubt had its day; and no long time had elapsed when a
new power arose in Christianity, taking hold upon the minds
and hearts of men such as no system of belief had ever
done before. This divine light broke forth in a region in¬
termediate to the philosophical speculations of both the
East and the West. Its influence was accordingly felt Gn°stic3-
ere long both by sceptical Greek and mystical oriental;
and out of this clash of opposing doctrines arose in the early
centuries of the Christian era the sect called the Gnostics,
and the philosophical movement known as the “ Alexan¬
drian schools.” From both of these speculative move¬
ments arose evolutions of pantheism as thorough-going as
any that had preceded them. Among the Gnostics, who
attempted to harmonize orientalism and Christianity by
torturing the latter to suit their eastern predilections, faith
was subordinated to philosophy, rather than philosophy to
faith. Their ontology was in general of a dualistic cast,
but it not unfrequently took a turn towards pantheism.
The most notorious of the latter class was Valentinus, who,
so far as his precise doctrines can be ascertained, held all
finite existences to be emanations from the “ Universal
and “ Unknown Father” (Bv0os), a sort of indeterminate
Brahma, who was the sole being in the universe, and of
which all else were but the modes.
On turning to the Alexandrian schools, we witness the col- Neo-Platn-
lision of oriental ideas and Greek thought with Christianity. nicPanth.-
The first of the “ Neo-Platonists” was Philo the Jew, born isin-
27 b.c. at Alexandria. This eminent thinker had been
long familiar with all the three modes of thought peculiar
to the Platonist, the oriental, and the Jew. By distrusting
the Senses, discarding the Reason, and taking refuge in
Faith, he gave philosophy a determination towards mysti¬
cism, and united it once more to religion. (See Mysticism.)
The material being thus gathered, it remained for Plotinus Plotinus,
to give this speculative evolution a solid metaphysical basis.
Farther attempts were made to perfect this eclectic system
by his followers; but it continued to present a strange ag¬
glomeration of doctrines, all swallowed up by the all-em¬
bracing one of pantheism.
The obiect of philosophy, these thinkers held with Plato,
l A novel and ingenious, if a somewhat arbitrary, explanation of the Pythagorean doctrme of Number^^^^
in his Institutes of Metaphysic (prop, i., § 16, p. 88). He holds that Pythagoras made Number the ground of all conceivability In na¬
ture, per se,” he says, “ there is nothing but absolute inconceivability. If she can place before us things, she cannot place before us « or
one thing. So said Pythagoras. According to him, it is intelligence alone which contributes a to a ‘ thing gives unity, &c. Ihi ex¬
position of the doctrine has at least the merit of being intelligible. Aristotle, however, who was not deficient, we presume e ther in
acuteness or in general information respecfing such matters, seems to have held a different view rom e 10 essor. ( ^e + e ap • •
* See Karsten’s Xenophanis Carminum Reliquiae, 3 vols. 8vo, Brussels, 1830-38 ; also C. A. Brandis Commcntationum Eleaticarum, &c,
Alton. 1813; and Cousin’s Nouveaux Frogmens Philosophiques.
3 See Lewes’ Biographical History of Philosophy, library edition, p. 57.
PANTHEISM.
Plotinus.
Pantheism, to be Universals, of which all phenomena were but the
modes. This ideal world, again, of Universals was but the
mode of God’s existence. But how can I, a finite being,
comprehend God, who is infinite ? It is obviously impos¬
sible so long as I remain finite. Since, then, I do possess a
knowledge of the Infinite, it cannot be through my reason,
which can only deal with finite things, but through some
higher faculty, altogether impersonal, by which I become
for the time being infinite, and am identified with the ob¬
ject of my contemplation. “ The faculty,” says Plotinus,
“ by which the mind divests itselfof its personality is
In this ecstasy the soul becomes loosened from its material
prison, separated from individual consciousness, and be¬
comes absorbed in the Infinite Intelligence from which it
emanated. In this Ecstasy it contemplates real existence;
it identifies itself with that which it contemplates.”1 Here,
then, is the doctrine of Absolute Identity in all its full¬
ness, of which pantheism is but the corollary. Thought
and thing are identical, and this is the only possible ground
of knowledge. We know the Infinite, according to Plo¬
tinus, by an immediate intuition {irapovaia), out of and be¬
yond reason; we know it, according to Schelling, through
an “intellectual intuition.” Thus the fundamental position
of both systems is the same.2 By a process of subtle
dialectics the Alexandrians came to the conclusion that
the Deity consisted of a Trinity in Unity. This Trinity
consisted of the hypostases, of which the first is Unity
simply, not properly Being; the second, Intelligence, which
is identical with Being, Mind, absolute and eternal (vovs):
thud, the Universal Soul, the Soul of the world (xl/v'^y'j tov
jravTog or rw oAojv), the source of all activity and life, mental
and material. In his highest state, Deity is neither thought
nor existence, but simple Unity, reminding one of Hegel’s
Absolute Nothing. The next peculiarity of this system—
the corollary indeed of what has gone before—is the law
of Emanation, or the mode in which the world of mind and
matter is produced by the Universal Soul. It is at this
point the pantheism of the “ Neo-Platonists” becomes pal¬
pable. If God made the universe, he did so, says the hu¬
man reason, so far as it can give a deliverance on the
matter, either from his own substance or from somethin o-
else already existent. If the former, Deity and the un£
verse are in fact identical,—hence pantheism ; if the latter,
Deity and the universe are radically and eternally distinct,’
which is the assertion of dualism, but no satisfactory ex¬
planation of the origin of the world. The Christians affirmed
that God made the world out of nothing by the energy of
his own omnipotence; the Alexandrians maintained that
he made it out of his own substance, but that, while not
distinct from him in essence, it was nevertheless distinct from
him in act. The pantheism thus reached is of the most
refined and subtle character. Instead of confounding God
with the world, after the manner of the material pantheists,
the Alexandrians held that the nature of Deity was not
exhausted in the act of creation, although the matter
created was identical in essence with himself. Thus, while
the ordinary pantheistic formula, “All things are God,” holds
true for this system, its converse, “ God is all things,”
1Sf ^reCtly ?PP0Sed to its express development of the law
ot Emanation. Proclus, with whom ancient philosophy
properly ends, terminated the speculative evolution of the
, r\eo't Ironists.” He endeavoured to work up into me¬
thodical connection the labours of his predecessors in that
school; and brought as subtle a scientific faculty to the task
as any that had yet been known among the Alexandrians.
(See especially his Institutio Theological)
233
On descending to the philosophy of the middle age, we Pantheism,
come in contact with a man of great learning and origi- v L /
nal genius in the person of John Scotus Erigena, who floV Middle A
rished during the seventh century. This eminent thinker Pantheism!
stands alone as an original advocate of pantheism during
that entire epoch. So far as Erigena was indebted to pre- Scotus En¬
vious speculators, Neo-Platonism, combined with eastern gena.
thought, seems to indicate the direction of his philosophy.
The traditionary account of his travels in the East seems
to be confirmed by the striking and almost literal coincidences
which Colebrooke detected between parts of his writings
and certain portions of the Sankhya philosophy. He be¬
gins with Absolute Unity as the origin and essence of all
things, and endeavours, in his De Divisione Naturae, to ex¬
plain how this radical unity, or Deity, has produced the uni¬
verse of multiplicities with which he is emphatically iden¬
tical. From the plenitude of the Divine Intelligence first
causes (primordiales causae) are derived, which give birth
in turn to the world of nature, destined ultimately to return
to the bosom of the Absolute. Like Proclus among the
Alexandrians, and like Hegel in more modern days, Sco¬
tus Erigena seems to have maintained the strict analogy
and correspondence of the world of ideas and the world of
realities; so that the relations of human thought ar^pro-
perly expressions of the real relations of the universe.3
“ If,” he says, “ the knowledge of all things is the reality
of all things, this cause [viz., Deity] which knows all is all.”
He again winds up his theory of human knowledge in »
these words:—“ Everything is God ; God is everything ;
God is the only real substantial existence.” The panthe- t.
ism of Erigena again reappears towards the end of the
twelfth century, in the speculations of Amaury deChartre^
and, with modifications, in those of hi^ pupil David tie
Dinant, who was a material pantheist. ^ v*
The brilliant and unfortunate Giordano Blmno, who'wa^Modern
burnt as a heretic in the streets of Ro’me in. 1600, stands Pantheism,
prominently forward in the records of'philosophy as the
precursor of Benedict Spinoza. Bruno’s pantheistic sys- Bruno,
tern, which is little more than a purification and develop¬
ment of the speculations^jf-the Ele^tits and of Plotinus, is
set forth with-singular eloquepce and richness of poetic
colouring. With him, Deity^ the Infinite Intelligence, is
the principle and essence’of all things {natura naturans):
he is the cause of the universe {natura naturata), yet he
did not create it; he simply informed it with life, for he is
the universe, although not limited by it. He is self-exist¬
ent, absolute, and simple. He is incessantly active as a
cause ; and all his energies are determined by his nature.
His activity is necessary; and yet he is perfectly free.
The universe is the infinite activity of his mind ; and hence
it is infinite, eternal, and imperishable. To hold the con¬
trary were to limit his power. But while Deity is thus the
essential substance of the universe, he is nevertheless sepa¬
rated from nature : he is super essentials, just as a mind is
conceivable apart from any one of its thoughts. The uni¬
verse is properly a living being, an immense infinite ani¬
mal ; and Deity, as tbe soul of the universe, modifies and
influences it throughout all its parts. There exists but
one sole intelligence which dwells in God in perfection,
but in inferior spirits in imperfection, varying according to
the capacity of their natures down to the lowest level of
created beings. These differences of endowment are not
generic, however; they are simply differences of degree.
Man occupies a middle place in the scale of intelligence ;
and his noblest function, according to Giordano, is to dis¬
cover the harmony that exists between the order of the
’
2 8ee Zk! °[ Plotinus ; also Lewes’ Biog. Hist, of Philosophy, library edition, p. 264.
3 See i differentia quee inter Plotini et Schellingii doctrinam de numine summo intercedit, G. W. Gerlach, Viteb. 1811.
«. d. Wissensch. ’sr Zeit ^ «, Libri v ed. T. Gale, Oxon., 1681; Fr. Ant. Staudenmaier’s Johannes Scotus Erigena
VOL XVII ' ’ &C‘, ’ an<^ Abbe Gerbert s Troisieme Conference de Philosophic Catholique.
2 G
234
PANTHEISM.
Pantheism, external universe ami the internal ideas of the soul; to
^ ^ — 1 perceive the identity of his intelligence and that of the
Deity, of the Subject and Object of thought.1 There is no
real distinction between good and evil, between happiness
and misery, between beauty and deformity ; all are essen¬
tially good, proceeding as they do from good, and intended
as they are for the best. Such distinctions are therefore
merely relative and illusory; they are not absolute and
feah c „
Spinoza. In 1632, just thirty-two years after the burning of Bruno,
was born in Amsterdam, Benedict Spinoza, who was des¬
tined to give a method and shape to the heretical theoiy
for which the Italian suffered, such as it had never re¬
ceived before at the hands of man. No speculator is more
frequently abused than the subtle Jew, and no one is less un¬
derstood. The legitimate and even avowed consequences
of his system induce the belief—perhaps a natural one
in thoughtless minds, that the author of them must have
been a very bad man. Yet such was not the case. He
lived a thoughtful, industrious, and strictly moral life,
grinding optical glasses for his livelihood, and spending the
remainder of his time in calm, speculative seclusion. He
seems to have been a man of a naturally reverential and
earnest disposition. This appears frequently from certain
attitudes of mind and turns of thought in his writings, as
well as from the fact that, in his great work, the Ethica,
in which his pantheistic system is elaborated, it was his
design to deduce mathematically from the knowledge of
God the fundamental laws of morality, and the principles
that should regulate human life.
Philosophical critics have got up a polemic as to whether
or not Spinozism was a legitimate development of Car-
tesianism ; whether or not the philosophy of Descartes con¬
tained in embryo that of Spinoza, and only required the
speculative courage and strong logic of the Jew to convert
it into pantheism.2 Considered in itself, and especially in
relation to the philosophers in question, the dispute,—as in¬
deed all such usually are,—is rather an idle one than other¬
wise. Suffice it to say, that Spinoza studied the works of
Descartes with intense interest and admiration, as is abun¬
dantly evinced by his unrivalled abridgment of the doc¬
trines of that philosopher, and, in particular, that he agreed
with the Cartesians in holding that what was true in thought
was true also in things. The latter principle formed the
basis of Descartes’ main argument for the existence of
Deity ; and Spinoza resolved, if possible, to put it to a more
extensive and solid use. He accordingly set to work to
develop by strict mathematical demonstration an ontologi¬
cal system embracing Deity and the universe. His scheme
is developed in the work, published posthumously in 1677,
entitled Ethica, Or dine Geometrico Demonstrata; et in
quinque partes distincta ; in quibus agitur—l. De Deo ,
II. De Natura et Origine Mentis; III. De Omgine et
Natura Affectuum ; IV. De Servitute Humana sen de
Affectuum Viribus; V. De Potentia Intellects seu de
Libertate Humana. Such is the plan and range of this
celebrated work. First God, then man, the laws of his
nature, and the character of his activity. W ith Spinoza,
as with all pantheists, the main point to be attended to,
in order to a comprehension of his system, is the me¬
thod which he employs. The only “ refutation of Spinoza
(and how many such have there been !) consists m rejecting
his method as false and illegitimate. Other pantheists may
be overthrown by their pursuing the suicidal course o in¬
conclusiveness. But it is not so with Spinoza ; for no single Pantheisir,
opponent, nor any combination of hostile criticism, has yet
succeeded in convicting this arch-pantheist of tripping Spinoza,
in his logic, or of wandering far from the method with
which he set out. Once grant the all-sufficiency of logic,
the essential harmony of thought and existence, and the
infallibility of the deductive method, and the chances are,
that in the hands of an able and daring thinker the ontology
of the universe will be pantheistic. So at least was it with
Spinoza. His method deceived him ; and in proving true to
it, he became a pantheist. Spinoza opens the first book of
the Ethica, which is entitled De Deo, in genuine geome¬
trical fashion, by laying down a series of definitions and
axioms, from which he proceeds to evolve demonstratively,
in a set of theorems each dependent on what has gone before,
his entire scheme of God and the world. This he does
with uncommon accuracy and clearness of language; so
that if it is difficult to understand him, the defect does not
lie in the author. Before entering upon a brief analysis of
his system, it is necessary to exhibit his definitions and
axioms.
DEFINITIONS.3
1. By a thing which is its own cause (causa sui) I understand a
thing of which the essence involves existence, or a thing which
cannot he conceived of except as existent.
2. A thing is said to be finite, in suo genere, which can be limited
by another thing of the same nature; e.g-, body is called finite be¬
cause we can always conceive another body as larger. So one
thought is limited by another thought. But body is not limited by
thought, nor thought by body.
3. By substance I mean that which exists in itself (in sej, and is
conceived by itself (per se') ; the conception of which, in other words,
does not involve the conception of anything else as the cause of it
(a quo formari debeat).
4. By attribute I understand that which the intellect perceives
as constituting the very essence of substance.
5. By mode I mean an affection (affectio) of substance, or that
which is in something else, through which also it is conceived..
6. By God I understand a being absolutely infinite ; that is, a
substance consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses
an eternal and infinite essence. # ,
Explanation.—I say absolutely infinite, but not infinite suo
genere ; for whatever is infinite suo genere only, does not
possess infinite attributes, whereas that which is absolutely
infinite contains in its essence whatever implies essence, and
involves no negation.
7. A thing is said to he free which exists by the sole necessity of
its own nature, and by itself alone is determined to action; but
that thing is necessary (necessaria), or rather constrained (coacta),
which owes its existence to something else, and is determined to
action according to a fixed and definite method. _ _
8. By eternity I mean existence itself, in so far as it is conceived
to follow necessarily from the sole definition of an eternal thing.
Explanation.—For this kind of existence is conceived as an
eternal verity, and cannot therefore be explained by dura¬
tion or time, even though this duration should be conceived
as without beginning and without end.
AXIOMS.
1. All things which exist, exist either of themselves or through
something else.
2. That which cannot be conceived [as existing] through something
else (per aliud) must be conceived [as existing] through itself (per se).
3. Prom a given determinate cause an effect necessarily follows;
and if there be no given determinate cause, no effect can follow.
4. The knowledge (cognitio) of an effect depends upon and im¬
plies the knowledge of its cause.
5. Things that have nothing in common with each other cannot
be understood through each other; in other words, the conception
of the one does not involve the conception of the other.
6. A true idea (idea vera) must correspond with its object (suo
ideato).
, ^ „ t hies ntoa Hist, of Philosophy, library edition, p. 330, which contains a vigor-
„„s rCp,linker. See .Uo 0^. <« by Adolfo W.g„„, 2 vol,, Leip.. 18301
-..nd the Jordano Bruno of C. Bartholmess, 2 vols., Panj 1848 Zusammenh. d. Spinozism, m. d. Cartesian, Philos.;
. w.«. ^ »•
PANTHEISM.
Pantheism. 7. Whatever can be conceived as non-existent, the essence of that
v. ^ y thing does not involve existence. (Ethica, pars, i., pp- °-J
Spinoza. Such is the foundation on which Spinoza, commences to
rear the vast edifice of his ontology. It will be perceived
that, alike in definition and in axiom, he adheres strictly to
the method which he has resolved to pursue, and which has
been already alluded to. This he continues to do through¬
out proposition, corollary, and scholium with an accuracy
and rigour which Euclid himself has not surpassed. Wit i-
out taking up in detail the successive evolutions of his sys¬
tem, a rapid outline of it may here be given.
There are two classes of existences, according to Spinoza,
which appear to be real, but whose reality lies merely in ap¬
pearance. These are the phenomena of Mind and Matter, on
the one hand, and what are called the substances Mind and
Matter, on the other. Existence is but accidental and tran¬
sient in these objects; and hence there must be somewhere
a being or beings endowed with the characteristic of self-ex¬
istence : there must be a substance underlying all these ac¬
cidents and changes, and that substance must be self-exist¬
ent. This follows from the very definition of substance, the
essence of which implies existence as part of the idea.
It is obvious there can be but one substance possessed
of self-existence, and that one substance is God. But to
see how this position is established, and also to witness a
specimen of Spinoza’s logic, we may turn to
Proposition XIV.—There is no substance but Ood, nor can any
other be conceived.
Demonstration.—Since God is a Being absolutely infinite, pos¬
sessed of every attribute (by defin. 6) which expresses the essence
of substance, he necessarily exists (by prop. xi.). If there is any
other substance besides God, it must be explained by some attribute
of God; and thus two substances would exist possessed of the same
attribute, which (by prop, v.) is absurd. There is therefore no
substance but God, and hence no other can be conceived. For, if
such could be conceived, it must be conceived as existent, which,
by the first part of this demonstration, is absurd. Wherefore, there
is no substance but God, nor can any other he conceived. Q.E.D.
Corollary 1. Hence, it very clearly follows, in the first place,
that God is one; i.e. (by defin. 6), there is only one substance in
nature, and that substance is absolutely infinite, as already hinted
in the scholium to prop. x.
Corollary 2. It follows, in the second place, that an extended
object and a thinking object are either attributes of God, or (by
ax. 1) affections of those attributes. {Ethica, part i., p. 197.)
There is, accordingly, but one substance, infinite, self-
existent, eternal, necessary, simple, and indivisible, of which
all else are but the modes. God, as the infinite substance,
with its infinity of attributes, is the natura naturans. As
the infinity of modes under which his attributes are mani¬
fested, he is the natura naturata. God is the immanent,
but not the transient, cause of all things. The universe is
not God, but simply the necessary modes of being of his
attributes. According to Descartes, there were two sub¬
stances, Spirit and Matter, of which the essences were re¬
spectively Thought and Extension. But as Thought and
235
Extension are only modes of existence, and as there can be Pantheism,
only one substance, it follows, according to Spinoza, that v'—
Thought and Extension are two infinite attributes, and the Spinoza,
only two known to us of the one infinite substance.1 Now,
as the attributes of Deity are only different manifestations
of one nature, infinitely absolute, it follows that there must
be a complete harmony and correspondence between the
successive modes of one attribute and the successive modes
of every other. Thus, a mode of thought2 must correspond
with a mode of extension ; every idea must harmonize with
its ideate or object, being only the same phenomenon under
a different aspect. Extension is Thought objectified, and
Thought is Extension subjectified. What God does as an
extended substance, he thinks as an intelligent substance;
for thought and thing, subject and object, are in him abso¬
lutely identical. All things are modes of his attributes of
Extension, and all thoughts are modes of his attribute of
Thought. The circle is a mode of God under his attribute
of Extension : the idea of a circle is the corresponding mode
under his attribute of Thought.3
Again, as Deity is necessarily existent, he can only act
through and by the necessary laws of his being. Freedom,
in the ordinary sense of that term, is accordingly incom¬
patible with the only legitimate idea of such a being; but
freedom, in the proper sense of the wrord, as applicable to a
being whose acts are determined solely by the laws of his
essential nature, can not only be predicated of Deity, but
can be predicated of him and of him alone of all beings in
the universe. And as good men are free when most a law
to themselves, so we magnify God’s freedom when we affirm
he must have acted as he has done. His acts are there¬
fore at once free and necessary: necessary, from the very
essence of his nature; and free, from the very nature of
their necessity. The nature of man being limited, and his
existence derived, he cannot act as a free cause, in the
proper sense of that term. What we ordinarily call “will”
{voluntas) is simply a mode of thought, is simply a link in
the causal nexus which binds all phenomena to the one
causa causarum. “Will” cannot therefore be applied to
Deity {voluntas non potest vocari causa libera, sed tantum
necessaria, prop, xxxii.), nor does he possess any proper
personality. It follows, again, that in God there can be no
such distinction as good and evil, and in ascribing moral
qualities either to his actions or to those of ourselves, we
simply indulge in baseless fancies {entia imaginationis)
which have no real existence, and which are derogatory to
the true dignity of God. For our convenience, we form
these abstractions of human excellence ; but in the eye of
God, everything is just w'hat it has the means of being;
and there is properly no resistance of his will.4
But to pass to a more special consideration of man.
Man is composed of Body and Spirit. But Body and Spirit,
as has been already shown, are not two independent reali¬
ties. Body is but a mode of Extension, and Spirit is but a
1 That Spinoza makes this infinite substance material, as some have alleged, is entirely erroneous ; for body with him is but a mode
of Extension, while Extension itself is an attribute of the one Substance—Deity. There is therefore equal warrant for making the
Deity of Spinoza spiritual as there is for making him material; for in point of fact He is properly neither, being the identity, as Spinoza
expressly states, of the natura naturans and the natura naturata. Materialism and spiritualism are equally indifferent to Spinoza, and
he accepts of the extremes of both systems with like equanimity. , .
2 It is scarcely necessary to observe that “ Thought ” {cogitatio) is used by Spinoza in the Cartesian sense, as equivalent to any mental
mode, whether cognition, feeling, or volition. . ,
3 It will be perceived that the celebrated “ pre-established Harmony ” of Leibnitz is little more than an adaptation of the singularly
ingenious theory of the great pantheist. With Leibnitz, mind and body are adapted to each other by a pre-ordinating power; with
Spinoza their movements coincide, because they are essentially the same,—idea and ideate being the same modification of the one abso¬
lute being, but manifested through different attributes. (For further illustration on this point, see an able article on Spinoza in the
Westminster Review for July 1, 1855, attributed to Mr Froude.)
* Such is the extraordinary manner in which Spinoza explains the mystery of evil. It might be supposed at first sight that his sys¬
tem makes God the real cause of all the error and crime that is in the world; but such a conclusion he avoids by leading a pi oof of the
positive non-existence of what is called evil. When Blyenbergh presses him with this difficulty, Spinoza replies calmly, as is his wont,
God is really and absolutely the cause of all things which have real existence (essentia), whatever they may be. If you cau demon-
strate that evil, error, crime, &c , have any real existence, I entirely admit that God is the cause of those evils, errors, crimes, ^^c. It
appears to me, however, that I have sufficiently shown that what constitutes the real essence of evil, error, crime, is no real thing at
all, and therefore that God cannot be regarded as the cause of it.” (Epistola xxxvi., § 4, vol. ii., p. 255.)
JJ
236 P A N T H E I S M.
Pantheism, mode of Thought. Thought and Extension are attributes virtue, and the attainment of it happiness. To per-Pantheism,
of the one absolute substance, God, evolving themselves in feet happiness, therefore, it is necessary to diminish the
Spinoza. two parallel streams, so to speak, of which each separate number of our inadequate ideas; foi it is ow^1^ these Spinoza,
body and spirit are but the waves. What I call my mind that passion and pain have any existence. Phenomenal
is only a succession of certain modes of Thought: what I knowledge of sense and internal perception, such as occu-
call my body is only a succession of certain modes of Exten- pies the attention of the great mass ot mankind, is the fer
sion. The sum of my ideas, at any moment, constitute my tile source of the ills to which they are exposed. Now to
soul: the sum of my material qualities, at any moment, con- escape from these evils incidental to obscure knowledge,
stitute mybody. Bodyand soul are apparently two, but really it is necessary to get behind phenomena, and to inquire
one : they have no independent existence : they are parts into the relations, causes, and essences of things, until we
of God. The human mind is percipient of bodily affections, have grasped the attributes of God. This is the first stage
—not directly, but by coincidence; and as it belongs to the of clear and adequate knowledge ; but it is not the only
nature of thought to cognise its own modifications, as well one. To sages and men of devout meditation a third and
as those of the other attributes of Deity, the human mind, highest degree of adequate knowledge is attainable in
being a portion of that thought, is likewise cognisant of the rising to the universal and absolute idea of God. As here is
ideas of corporeal affection. In other words, the mind is the highest light, so here is the most perfect peace. Were
self-conscious ; or, as Spinoza expresses it, “ Mens se ipsam our knowledge of God capable of present completeness,
non coo-noscit, nisi quatenus corporis affectionum ideas per- we might attain to perfect happiness ; but such is not pos-
cipit.” (Eth., pars, ii., prop, xxiii.) Perception is of two sible. Out of the infinity of his attributes, two only-
kinds—adequate and clear, inadequate and obscure. An Thought and Extension aie accessible to us; while the
idea is adequate and clear when it conforms to its object; modes of those attributes being essentially infinite, escape
inadequate and obscure when it imperfectly represents it. our grasp. Universal science is thus possible for God
The former class is positively true, the latter negatively alone, and he is the only being absolutely happy. We
false. Inadequate and false ideas are either the ideas of may nevertheless, by prosecuting arduously and courage-
bodily affections or the perception of those ideas. Ade- ously our real good, enlarge the boundaries of positive
quate and clear ideas are those abstracted from the former knowledge, and thus emancipate ourselves from the ty-
class, and elaborated by a process of reflection. This re- ranny of ignorance and the slavery of passion. To know
flective process is regarded as being within the direction God and to love him is thus the true souice of self-mastery, -
and control of the mind itself; and here, in his theory of peace, and blessedness.
knowledge, as well as afterwards in his theory of morals, It follows from the unequal distribution of clear and
Spinoza,^ in the judgment of some, departs from the abso- adequate knowledge, that men possess real being in very
lute necessitarianism which his system induces, and which unequal degrees. And it is from this fact that Spinoza
he himself had already avowed.1 It may be noted, how- deduced his ingenious and startling theory of the immor-
ever, that Spinoza was perfectly well aware that the theo- tality of the soul. Such a doctrine is at first sight impos-
retical aspect of man’s relation to the all-embracing nexus sible in Spinoza’s philosophy; for, as the soul is only the
of causation seldom influences very materially the ordinary collection of our ideas, and as our ideas have their ori-
practical bearings of any question involving self-control; gin in the affections of body, it necessarily follows that
nor did he forget, at the same time, that a certain measure the destruction of the body at death is the destruction
of self-direction may be not inconsistent with a scheme of of our ideas, and the consequent annihilation of the
the most thorough-going necessitarianism. But it is not to soul. But Spinoza, while granting the validity of this
be forgotten that such considerations, as resulting from conclusion, qualifies it in a very important manner. He
psychological observation, and not from the application of reminds us that all knowledge is not necessarily phe-
the method of formal demonstration which Spinoza pro- nomenal; that there are adequate as well as inadequate
fesses throughout to employ, cannot be regarded as falling ideas ; and that while the latter perish with the body,
in harmoniously with the other evolutions of his system, whence they arose, the former are absolutely indestructible.
Nor do they ; for at bottom, and on such a scheme, per- For, as occupied with the essences of things, with the attri-
sonality is only phenomenal, and human liberty an illusion, butes of God, or with God himself, the human soul, even
The better we know, according to him, the better we act; although the body were destroyed, would find objects of
and upon this hypothesis he passes on from the sphere of thought, time without end, in what is essentially permanent
knowledge proper, to a consideration of the passions and and enduring. For men who are destitute of this higher
affections of human nature. There is a necessary desire knowledge and being there is on this system no positive
in all being, says Spinoza, to remain in existence. God, hereafter. And this Spinoza calmly admits. The man
whose essence is existence, is possessed of this desire ; but who has been the slave of passion; who has had no love or
as his beino- is under no limitation, he is absolutely perfect knowledge of God as the source of all goodness ; who has
and perfectly happy. But the human soul, while partici- possessed no proper personality while living ; who has, in
paling in this desire of Deity, is necessarily limited, and short, been wholly occupied with the body, will lose every-
hence necessarily unhappy. This desire for a continuance thing in losing the body. Our immortality, then, rests
of being becomes in man a desire to remain intelligent, and, with ourselves. It is the reward of a life of virtue and of
if possible, since limited, to enlarge the sphere of his know- high noble endeavour. ...
ledge, seeing that knowledge is the constituent element of Such, then, are the main features of a pantheistic system
the mind. But this simple and fundamental activity of of philosophy which has never been surpassed in bold in¬
cur nature is frequently impeded in its development by the genuity, and never equalled in scientific rigour. However
obstruction of external causes consequent upon our inade- we may be disposed to regard the ™0l£d consequences of
quate and confused knowledge. Hence emerges from the its general reception, it must not be denied that, in the
bosom of this primary desire a new class of emotions termed hands ol the author, it was by no means an immoral system.
passions, such as joy and sorrow, hope and fear, love and lo try Spinoza by a Christian standard may be instiuctive,
hatred, &c. To increase the sum of our being is accord- but it is hardly just, for he never was, noi professed to be, a
ingly the great end of life: the pursuit of this end is Christian.2 Monstrous as his philosophy is when viewed in
1 Even so acute a thinker and fair a critic as Theodore JoufFroy, on reviewing this development of Spinozism, affirms, “ Here is the
radical contradiction lurking through his whole system.” (Introduction to Ethics, 2d Lecture on Spinoza. )
2 Yet the school of Herder and Schleiermacher in Germany have claimed him as such.
PANTHEISM.
237
Pantheism, many of its ramifications, and pernicious as must be the
v result of its practical adoption, it is beyond a doubt that the
author does not seem to have so regarded it. 1 he sys¬
tem is profoundly false, and the heart of man rises up in
wrath against it; yet it is not fair, as is often done, to de¬
nounce Spinoza as an atheist, or to regard him as essentially
a bad man. Novalis called him a god-intoxicated man
(Gott trunkner Mann), an epithet which, if we may judge
from the frequency of its quotation, seems to have been
regarded by many as a happy one. Pantheism and athe¬
ism are not in strictness identical; yet it is true they are
not far separated in their practical tendencies. It is no
new remark, however, that men are frequently better than
their doctrines ; and (so inconsequent and self-deceiving is
man) while soundness of doctrine is no absolute guar¬
antee for purity of life, so erroneous opinion is not neces¬
sarily accompanied by habits of vice. Exceptional cases,
however, should not be made the bases of laws, any more
than imperfect moral inductions should be elevated into
absolute standards of moral life.
Schelling In following the progress of pantheistic speculation, as
and Hegel, traceable in the annals of philosophy, the ontological systems
of modern Germany should next demand attention. As,
however, the speculative systems of Schelling and Hegel—
the most celebrated pantheists of modern times—have been
treated of in the article Metaphysics, under the section
devoted to “ Ontology,” no special notice of these philo¬
sophers is required here; and the reader is referred once
for all to that article for further information respecting the
most recent evolutions of pantheism.
Estimate of Such, in conclusion, is an outline of the numerous at-
Pantheism, tempts at constructing a science of Being which have ended
in pantheism, which is but another name for failure. And
in this we have an epitome of the history of all such at¬
tempts. Did the results of pantheistic speculation, as of
many other fantastic follies of the human brain, termi¬
nate merely when the ingenious fabricator had placed
the last cope-stone upon his imposing edifice, they might
excite a smile, as the harmless amusements of misdirected
genius, but would awaken no serious alarm in the breasts
of earnest men who are interested in the advancement of
truth and the triumph of goodness. But such speculations
have a more intimate practical bearing, both directly and
indirectly, than might at first sight be supposed. For, apart
from the opprobrium which they bring upon philosophy for
its speculative variation and egregious absurdity, such doc¬
trines exert a more subtle and dangerous influence in de¬
termining men to scepticism, and to a disregard of the ordi¬
nary obligations of morality and religion. For if philoso¬
phers, by sheer dint of a reckless logic, wring conclusions from
the human reason abhorrent to the common sense and shock¬
ing to the conscience,—thus bringing into hostile collision
the primary elements of our nature,—what escape is there
from the most complete intellectual doubt, from the most
absolute moral indilference ? Thoughtless men may
smile or sneer at all such speculations as equally foolish
and harmless; but there is assuredly a Nemesis in all
erroneous speculation, as there is in all wrong-doing.
And this retribution comes not unfrequently nearer the
ordinary business and bosoms of men than they are well
aware of. A word, then, on the method pursued by the
pantheistic philosophers, for it is here the vice of their sys¬
tem lies.
The total falsehood of all pantheistic systems may be
established both directly and indirectly :—directly,—1.
From its misapplication of the laws of thought; and, 2.
From its violating, in limine, the original data of con¬
sciousness: indirectly,—3. From its virtually contradict¬
ing the intellectual and moral consciousness of mankind; Pantheism,
and, 4. From its rendering religion impossible. V*
1. The one invariable method employed by pantheists is
the formally deductive. Now, this method, in order to be
thorough-going, in order to transport the thinker into the
sphere of absolute existence, would, first of all, require to
vindicate the possibility of such existence ; would next
need to establish the fact of its existence in general; and
would, lastly, be constrained to demonstrate its special ex¬
istence as determinate and individual reality. Now, are
all, or is any, of these tasks possible for the logical method of
sciencing Being ? The laws of formal thinking are those
of Identity, Contradiction, and Excluded Middle.1 These
laws, as admitted on all hands to be merely regulative and
analytical, cannot, of course, add to what already is,—can¬
not, in point of fact, furnish any existent reality at all.
They can neither say that a thing is, nor what a thing is ;
they can merely say what it is not. Being merely explicative,
and perpetually employed on the evolution of identical pro¬
positions, they are limited in strictness to the sphere of
what is already fixed upon as determinately existent, and
as clearly defined. A single fact the laws of logic cannot
afford; and when once a fact is postulated, they can never
in any degree amplify its positive contents.2 Before it is
possible to apply the laws of formal thinking in the pursuit
of determinate existence, we would require to define exist¬
ence in general. But do we know anything of existence
in general ? Is existence per se aught more than a mere
abstraction ? And if only a mere abstraction, no application
to it of the laws of formal thinking can ever succeed, as
has just been shown, in clearing the boundaries of abstrac¬
tion and gaining the territories of real existence. In short,
all such demonstrations begin with abstractions and end
with abstractions. This brings us to consider—
2. Wherein does the pantheist violate the original data
of consciousness ? In this, eminently, that he ignores the
essential condition of knowledge in arrogating to himself
a capacity for defining existence per se, which involves
a violation of the limitation of all human knowledge. Spi¬
noza demonstrates that Substance exists because the essence
of it implies existence as part of the idea, according to his
definition of Substance. Here he makes two erroneous as¬
sumptions. In the first place, he identifies thought and
existence in assuming that his idea of Substance and the
thing Substance are convertible; and, in the second place,
he assumes that we have a knowledge of absolute Substance,
of Substance irrespective of all qualities, which contradicts
the articulate and unequivocal deliverance of consciousness
respecting the essential relativity of all our knowledge. In
short, Spinoza, and all metaphysicians with him who em¬
ploy the deductive method of philosophizing, virtually main¬
tain with the sophist Protagoras, that “man is the measure of
the universe, both of that which is, and of that which is not.
Everything is and must be as we conceive it; an assump¬
tion which is not only destitute of a shadow of founda¬
tion, but is directly opposed to positive evidence to the
contrary. .
3. But not only may pantheism be redargued in its pre¬
mises,—it can also be proved false from the consequences to
which it consistently leads. These consequences are both
intellectual and moral: intellectual, in contradicting the
primary deliverances of consciousness, which assert the real
antithetic existence of Self and not-Self; and moral, in giv¬
ing the lie to the conscience, and denying the possibility of
moral obligation. The pantheist maintains that, as man’s
personality is merely phenomenal, and his power of self-
control at bottom but a chimera, everyone’s actions, whether
external or internal, are determined by causes over which
1 For further information respecting those laws, see Logic ; also Appendix I to Sir W. Hamilton’s Discussions on Philosophy, &c.
2 The reader will find this admirably put by Mr’John Veitch in Appendix C, iii., to his Memoir of Dugald Stewart.
238 PAN
Pantheon be has no influence, and which utterly deprive him of any
H power of moral choice, or of any control over his conduct.
Panto- His actions, as properly those of Deity, are all equally divine,
graph. Responsibility is thus but an illusion,—an ens imaginationis,
as Spinoza would say,—and moral obligation naught but a
plausible fiction. Conscience may be, perhaps, of a little
practical use; for, as Spinoza allows, we are obliged occa¬
sionally to regard the future as contingent; but, however
convenient such a supposition may be, it is wholly destitute
of foundation, and contrary to the truth. Fortunately for
humanity, their moral judgments are not to be silenced by
such reasoning; and morality or truth has nothing ulti¬
mately to fear from any conclusions which rest upon false
premises, or do violence at the outset to the universal con¬
sciousness of mankind.
4. But not only is pantheistic speculation, when carried
into practice, destructive of moral activity, it likewise cuts off
the possibility of religion and of religious worship. For, in
the first place, the God of the pantheist is not the Deity
before whom human nature feels constrained to bow. The
One abstraction which gathers up into its alleged sole re¬
ality all the other existences of the universe—the identity
of the natura naturans,nc\& the natura naturata—is not that
God in whose presence the human heart is filled with
humble reverence and holy adoration. In the second place,
if all things, and myself among the rest, are properly God,
what room is there for worship ? How can God be said to
worship himself? In short, there is hardly any conceivable
limit to the wild extravagances and pernicious conse-
P A N
quences which legitimately spring from a consistent adher-Pantomime!
ence to pantheistic doctrines.
Beside the bane, however, grows up the antidote. If
we will only rest content with the small portion of truth
which is legitimately within our reach, and eschew the am¬
bitious and blind folly of aspiring to the sum of knowledge,
we may still experience the happinessof conscious, if humble,
security, while safe from the fatal delusions of those who
unduly lust after intellectual power. Philosophy is not to
be despaired of although a philosophy of the Absolute is
impossible ; and truth has not necessarily come to an end
because man is not “ the measure of the universe.”1 * Pan¬
theism, like all error, is unquestionably doomed ; and as soon
as the world can afford to do without it, we shall doubtless
cease to hear any more of it. Meanwhile, it is the duty of
the earnest speculator to adhere to what is legitimately
placed within his reach. Observation and experiment, the
judicious use of a rational induction, is the only method
vouchsafed to man whereby truth is to be attained if at¬
tainable at all—in such high matters. This method may
appear vulgar and pedestrian to the proud eye of ambition ;
it may prove comparatively barren—nay occasionally un¬
satisfactory—in its results ; but no method of inquiry can
ever become contemptible which alone conducts man to
the possession of truth. Philosophies without number have
been tried and found wanting; but there remains still for the
wise thinker as much truth as is necessary for the conduct
of human life, if not sufficient to disclose to mortal gaze
the hidden mysteries of the universe. (j> d s.)
PANTHEON. See Architecture.
PANTICAP^EUM. See Kertch.
PANTOGRAPH, an instrument contrived for reducing,
enlarging, or copying plans. It has been constructed in
B
a variety of forms, all of them depending on the same
geometrical proposition. If from the corners A, B, C, D
(fio- 1 j of anv polygon, lines be drawn to a fixed point
P&and be continued to distances Pa, Yb, Pc, Yd, propor¬
tional to PA, PB, PC, PD, the figure abed is similiar to
A In order to utilize this property, a bar EPe (fig.. 2) is made
to turn freely upon the point P; on E and e are jointed two
g .1 • r>u
other bars EF, ef, having their lengths in the ratio r
to Pc, and being kept constantly parallel to each other by
some mechanical contrivance. In this way the points F, P,
and/are maintained in a straight line, and the ratio of FP
to /P is preserved constant; so that if the point F be led along
the contour of any figure, f must mark out a similar figure.
In the old form of the pantograph the parallelism of the
hars EF, ef was secured by a thin rhomboidal frame like
the common parallel ruler, the several joints being supported
on small ivory castors. Hence the whole apparatus moved
by jerks, and it was impossible to follow with precision any
delicate outline. In the eidograph of Professor Wallace,
the parallelism is maintained by means of two light wheels,
round which a chain is passed, and the machine is supported
by long axes ; wdiile in Dunn’s pantograph, the rhomboidal
frame is used with long axles. With these improved forms
a free and smooth motion is obtained, so that very minute
work can be gone over.
At one of the points F, / there is placed a tracing-style
of steel, delicately pointed, but not sharp, to be led along
the outline of the plan, and at the other a tracing-pencil,
kept pressing on the copy-paper by a small weight which
can be pulled up when required. There are also arrangements
for altering the lengths of the arms to suit the ratio in
which the plan is to be diminished or enlarged.
The pantograph is extensively used in the arts; thus, the
machine-embroiderer leads the longer arm over a magnified
copy of the figure to be produced, and guides with ease and
precision the successive strokes of the needles, lo this
simple contrivance we owe much of the beauty and cheap¬
ness of flowered muslins and embroidered silks. (e. s.)
PANTOMIME (ttSv, all, /u/xos, an imitator), is one who
imitates all sorts of actions and characters by means of
gesticulation alone. This species of actor was common to
the civilized nations of antiquity, and especially to Greece.
The pantomimes proper, however, wdio resembled very
nearly the modern ballet-dancers, were peculiar to Rome,
where the art was carried to great perfection during the
reign of Augustus. This art was discountenanced by Ti-
1 Lewes, true to the spirit of his philosophical creed, confidently assert, that one can only escape Spinozi.m « by denying the posst
bility of all philosophy. ”—(See Biog. Hint, of Phil. “ On Spinoza’s Doctrine. )
PAN
Panuco berius, but it revived again under Caligula and particularly
|| Nero. Lewd, mythological love stories were the ia-
Paoli. vourite subjects chosen for pantomimic-acting; and the
pernicious effect of such spectacles is vehemently sa¬
tirized by Juvenal (vi. 63, &c.) These representations
were founded on a text mostly written in Greek: the
movements of the actors were rhythmical; and hence the
entire art got the name of musica muta. In Sicily such
dances were called BaAAioyAot, whence some have derived
the words ball and ballet.
In the modern drama, the term pantomime is applied to
a mimic representation by gestures, actions, and amusing
tricks, performed by certain fantastic characters known as
Harlequin and Columbine, Pantaloon and his Clown, &c.
The pantomime is sometimes also a sort of dramatic en¬
tertainment appended to the Italian opera.
PANUCO, a town of Mexico, in the state of Vera Cruz,
on the banks of a river of the same name, 18 miles W. of
Tampico. The situation is extremely beautiful; and in the
neighbourhood of the town there are many remains of antiqui¬
ty, extending over a rich tract of ground. Pop. about 4000.
PANVINIO, Onufrio, a voluminous Italian antiquary
and historian, was born at Verona in 1.529. A love for
the records of former times early became his master-pas¬
sion and gave the bent to his entire career. That he might
enjoy both time and opportunities for study, he became a
monk of the order of St Augustine, and in that capacity
went to receive his education at Rome. The appointment
to a theological chair at Florence did not divert him from
his favourite pursuits, for he soon obtained from his superiors
leave to resign. He then made an antiquarian tour through
Italy, rummaging the archives in the principal cities, and
collecting information touching the dates of events and the
customs of nations from the inscriptions on medals, monu¬
ments, and other relics of antiquity. This course of pre¬
paratory study was followed by a period which was spent
in the midst of literary quiet, and under the smile of liberal
patrons. In 1555 Pope Marcellus II. encouraged him in
his studies, and gave him a situation in the library of the
Vatican. On the death of that pontiff immediately after¬
wards, he was received into the family of Cardinal Farnese.
He was daily obtaining other marks of his patron’s esteem,
when he was cut off in 1568, at the age of thirty-nine.
Panvinio left many erudite works behind him. Among the
most important are the following:—
Epitome Pontificum Romanorum usque ad Paulum IV., fol., Ve¬
nice, 1557 ; Viginti-Septem Pontificum Romanorum Elogia et Ima¬
gines, fol., Rome, 1568 ; Fasti et Triumphi Romanorum a Romulo
usque ad Carolum V., Venice, 1557; De Ludis Secularibus et Anti-
quis Romanorum Nominibus, fol., Heidelberg, 1588 ; Re Baptismate,
Pascali Origine, et Ritu Consecrandi Agnos Lei, 4to, Rome 1560 ;
Re Sybillis et Carminibus Sybillinis, 8vo, Venice, 1567 ; De Triumpho
Commentarius, fol., Rome, 1573, and 4to, Helmstadt, 1676; Re
Ritu Sepeliendi Mortuos apud Veteres Christianas et Eorum Cceme-
eriis, 8vo, Louvain, 1572, and 8vo, Rome, 1581; Re Republica
Romana, 8vo, Venice, 1581; De Bibliotheca Pontificis Vaticana, 4to,
Tarragona, 1587 ; De Ludis Circensibus Libri Duo et De Triumphis
Liber Unus, fol., Venice, 1600; Amplissimi Ornatissimique Triumphi
ex Antiquissimis Lapidum Nummorum Monumentis, dec., Descriptio,
fol., Rome, 1618; and De Antiquitate et Viris lllustribus Veronce
Libri Octo, fol., Padua, 1648.
PAOLA, or Paula, a town of Naples, province of Ca¬
labria Citra, stands on a height at the edge of a deep ravine
not far from the sea, 13 miles W.N.W. of Cosenza. Many
of the houses are well built; and there are a castle and two
forts. It contains several convents, hospitals, silk factories,
and a pottery. The fisheries are extensive. Pop. 5500.
PAOLI, Pasquale, a great patriot and legislator, was
the younger son of Giacinto Paoli, and was born at the
village of Rostino in Corsica in 1726. His training was
such as became one who was destined to be a great bene¬
factor to his country. Born in a family of patriots, and at
a time when the Corsicans were struggling for independ-
P A O 239
ence, the young boy imbibed with his opening faculties a Paoli.
strong love of freedom. Then removing at the age of four- ^
teen with his exiled father to Naples, he received the most
thorough discipline which that city could give. In the
school of Genovesi, the eminent political economist, he
learned humanistic philosophy ; in the Neapolitan army he
became acquainted with military tactics ; and in the pages of
his favourite classical authors he caught the spirit which
animated the great citizens of antiquity. Thus prepared
with the high accomplishments of a ruler, Paoli, in 1755,
was summoned by his fellow-countrymen to be their gene¬
ral, and he immediately entered upon the great work of his
life. It now became his task to reform a people, rude, un¬
lettered, torn by hereditary feuds, living under wild sword-
law, and exasperated by a long-continued struggle for
liberty. His first measure was to reconcile them to au¬
thority. For this purpose, wandering forth among them,
he brought all the qualities of his noble nature into play.
His graceful and princely bearing won their hearts, his
gentle eloquence captivated their understandings, and his
calm energy of character awed them into submission.
Paoli’s next endeavour was to organize a government. Ac¬
cordingly, he brought into operation a democratic adminis¬
tration at once simple and self-sufficient. 1 he citizens
above the age of twenty-five elected a legislative assembly
called the Consulta ; the Consulta nominated out of its
members an executive body called the Supreme Council; and
the Supreme Council acknowledged the general of the na¬
tion as its president. Any contested judicial sentence was
referred to a censorship of five; and any abuse of power
was punished by a decree of the people. Having esta¬
blished law and order, Paoli next employed the influence of
the government to bring the nation under the agencies of
civilization. Agriculture was promoted; manufactories
were put in motion; a national printing-press was insti¬
tuted; and on the 3d January 1765 a Corsican university
was opened. Paoli now began to see the results of his
legislation. As the Corsicans grew wealthier and more en¬
lightened, they became stronger and more inspirited. A
militia which they organized beat back the Genoese from
the interior of the island, and hemmed them in within a few
seaport-towns. A fleet which they built took up the offen¬
sive against their foes, and captured in 1767 the island of
Capraja. At the same time, they were becoming devotedly
attached to the civil administration. Their general was re¬
garded as the saviour of his country. As he walked out
among his people, old men blessed him, and women held
up their children to see the man who had made the nation
happy. This fair fabric of prosperity which Paoli was rear¬
ing was not, however, destined to be completed. On the
15th of May 1768 the Genoese, having lost all hope of
ever re-conquering Corsica, sold their right over the island
to the French. The small nation of the Corsicans, just
emerging from barbarism, was thus involved in a losing
struggle with one of the great powers of the earth. In
vain did the natives for some time with desperate valour
check the advance of the forces under Marbceuf and Chau-
velin: in vain did they rout the invaders at the biidge of
Golo and at Borgo. A reinforced army, under a new general,
De Vaux, advanced against them in the beginning of 1769.
After a struggle of three days, they were driven from their
camp at Murati; and on the 9th May of that year their cause
was irretrievably ruined by the decisive battle of Ponte
Nuovo. The wise magnanimity of Pasquale Paoli now
appeared in greater prominence than ever. Unlike the old
tragic heroes, he thought it better, in a contest with destiny,
to give way for a little, and remain upon guard, than to offer
an unyielding resistance, and be crushed beneath her in¬
evitable blow. His first step, therefore, was to leave the
island and retire to Leghorn. Then, finding refuge in
England, he lived for twenty years in London, taking no
240 PAG
Paoli part in the political intrigues of the day, keeping a thought-
11 ful silence, and waiting for an opportunity to benefit his
Papal enslaved country. At length the events of the French
^States. Revoiution restored Paoli to Corsica, and to an important
v ^ place in its administration. At first he acted as lieutenant-
general and military commandant of the island under the
government of France. Then, becoming shocked with the
lawless and sanguinary procedure of the Convention in
Paris, he organized an anti-French party, and called in the
assistance of the English. His cause was victorious ; the
garrisons of France were driven out of the island; and in
] 794 Corsica, with the consent of the natives, was united
to Great Britain. The reward which Paoli received for
these services was little more than neglect. The office of
viceroy of the country, which should have been conferred
on him, was conferred upon Sir Gilbert Eliot. He was even
prevented, for reasons of state, from passing the closing years
of his life in the fatherland he had loved so well. He
was called to England in 1795, and died there on the 5th
February 1807.
Paoli, Clemens, the elder brother of the preceding, was
born in 1715, and, like the rest of his family, began at an
early age to take an active part in the struggles of his coun¬
try. His character was that of a saintly hero of the old
Hebrew type,—fervent in prayer and mighty in battle. Al¬
though he was one of the Corsican generals, and although
lie might have held a high office in the government of his
brother, he preferred to assume the garb of a monk and
the uniform of a common soldier. To fight and to pray
became the sole desires of his heart. At the sound of the
coming battle he rose from his knees to rush into the field ;
in the thick of the conflict he fought like a lion, grimly
muttering prayers for the souls whom he sent in rapid suc¬
cession into another world; and when his bloody work was
done, he returned to his cell with a pious countenance to
resume his interrupted devotions. Thus did this praying
soldier in the wars of the Corsicans become the champion of
the national cause, the chief hero in an army of heroes. It
was he who drove the Genoese from the district of Orezza ;
who carried San Pellegrino and San Fiorenzo ; who kept Fu-
riani for fifty-six days, until the village became a heap of
ashes around him; who routed the disciplined troops of Franee
at the famous battle of Borgo. Nor, after his country’s in¬
dependence had been lost on the fatal day of Ponte
Nuovo, did his holy valour suffer abatement. Retiring
to a solitary cloister near “ the brooks of Vallombrosa,” he
continued for twenty years to pray and wait for the hour
when he might draw his sword once more in Corsica’s
behalf. He had returned to the island an aged man,
yet anxious to play a part in the restoration of national
freedom, when he died in 1793 in the convent of his
native Rostino. (Wanderings in Corsica, translated from
the German of Gregorovius by Alexander Muir, in 2
vols., Edinburgh, 1855 ; and Boswell’s o/” Corsica.')
PAOLO VERONESE. See Cagliari.
PAOU, Tacanova, or Sandalwood, one of the Fee-
jee Islands, in the Pacific Ocean, S. Lat. 17., W. Long.
179.; length, 96 miles; average breadth, 25. Its out¬
line is irregular, and its surface hilly, containing several
peaks, one of which, called Corobato, has a height of
2000 feet. Many of the hills are volcanic; and the island
is well wooded. The principal product is sandal-wood.
Pop. about 15,000.
PAPA, a market-town of Hungary, circle of Veszprim,
and 27 miles N.W. of that town. It contains a splendid
castle and garden of Count Esterhazy, a fine cathedral, a
court-house, convent, and schools. The chief manufac¬
tures are china and cloth. Pop. (1851) 12,397.
PAPAL STATES. Under Italy the origin and growth
of the temporal power of the Roman pontiffs is taken up.
In the article Rome there is sketched a view of the rise
PAP
and progress of that great state. The present article will Papal
be limited to a view of the actual condition of the tem- States,
poral dominions of the sovereign pontiff.
The Stato Pontijicio, as the Papal States are called in
Italian, is situated in the centre of Italy, being bounded
by the Adriatic Sea on the eastern, and the Mediterranean
on the western side. It extends in N. Lat. from 41. 9. 8.
to 44. 49. 54., and in E. Long, from 10. 26. 2. to 12. 49.
30.; and has an area of 12,041 geographical, or 16,155
English square miles, with a population of 3,124,758 inha¬
bitants. The whole is connected together, with the excep¬
tion only of the delegation of Ben even to, which is surrounded
by the Neapolitan province of Principato Ulteriore, and the
small state of Pontecorvo, inclosed within the province of
Terra di Lavoro, belonging to the same state. The Papal
States are bounded on the N.W. by the Lombardo-Venetian
kingdom, on the N.E. by the Adriatic Sea, on the S.E.
by the kingdom of Naples, on the S.W. by the Mediter¬
ranean Sea, and on the W. by the grand-duchy of Tus¬
cany and the duchy of Modena.
The western coast of the States is by far the shortest.
It commences a little to the S.E. of Orbitello, in the
Tuscan territory, and proceeds by a bay, not deep, to
Civitavecchia. It has no towns on the shore; but about
3 miles inland, and visible from the sea, is the small town
of Corneto. Civitavecchia is well fortified with good
walls and ditches, several half-moon batteries, and various
other works; and upon a peninsula is a fine castle, from
which a mole is projected, whilst another mole about 180
fathoms in length is carried into the sea. Between these
two is the harbour, having 17 feet of water at one of the
entrances, and 12 feet at the other. Ships are safe every¬
where within the harbour, and have 20 feet of water.
Though the principal seaport on this side, Civitavecchia
has no great commercial importance, its trade being chiefly
confined to the supplies of Rome. In 1856 it was de¬
clared a free port. Proceeding to the S.E. of this port,
and passing Cape Linaro, a view is obtained of the church
of St Peter’s at Rome. The miserable villages of Ma-
rinella, Palo, and Monterone, about 2 miles from the sea,
are visible. The river Tiber has two outlets to the sea,
which are divided by the Isola Sacra, a tract of land
about 2 miles in breadth and 9 miles in circumference.
Of these, the first or northernmost is called the Fiumicino,
and the second the Fiumara. All the land near and about
the mouths of the Tiber is low and marshy, and not easily
distinguished from the sea, which renders the approach
dangerous, especially when, as is often the case, it is
covered with dense fogs. The Fiumara was the old chan¬
nel of the Tiber ; the Fiumicino, which is now the only navi¬
gable mouth, was excavated by Trajan from Porto to the
sea, and from him called Fossa Trajani. It has a bar at
its mouth, with 7 or 8 feet of water, and within it from 2 to
4 fathoms. The Fiumara has only 2 feet of water on its
bar, and consequently can be entered by nothing larger
than boats. There is good anchorage at from 3 to 6 miles
from the shore, where there is a depth of water of from
6 to 13 fathoms, with good holding ground of stiff mud.
From the mouths of the Tiber the land continues low and
marshy, and it has no town, but a few houses and towers
at intervals; and, like the rest of the Campagna di Roma,
of which it forms a part, is frequently so obscured by haze
and fog, that the objects on the shore are not easily dis¬
tinguishable. At the distance of about 30 miles from the
Tiber, and 37 miles from Rome, under a projecting head¬
land called Capo d’Anzio, is Porto d’Anzio, the ancient
Antium, the birthplace of Nero, and one of the most im¬
portant seaports of imperial Rome. The two moles con¬
structed by Nero, about 30 feet in thickness, one 2700,
and the other 1600 feet long, still exist, but the extensive
basins they inclosed are now useless except for vessels of
PAPAL STATE S. 241
Papal small burthen, owing to the accumulation of sand caused
States, by the filling up in the seventeenth century of the open
arches on which the moles were originally built. The
papal government has sundry projects for restoring this
port, and converting it into a refuge harbour. Two miles E.
of Porto d’Anzio is the small dilapidated town of Nettuno,
supposed to have derived its name from an ancient temple
to Neptune. The whole coast between Porto d'Anzio
and Nettuno is covered with vaults, grottoes, baths, pillars,
and other remains of Roman villas. At 20 miles from
Nettuno is Monte Circello, the Promontorium Circceum
of the ancients, an isolated perpendicular mass of limestone
at the south extremity of the Pontine Marshes. On the
S. side of the promontory is the village of San Felice, near
to which good anchorage, in 6 or 7 fathoms water, is found;
but there is no shelter against winds from the S.E. At 10
miles from thence is Terracina, the ancient Anxur of the
Volscians, and the last town of the Papal States on the
Neapolitan frontier. The harbour, once of celebrity, is
now choked up; and the town, though fortified, is incon¬
siderable. The country around is fruitful, but marshy and
unwholesome.
The E. sea-coast of the Papal States, bordering on the
Adriatic Sea, extends about 120 miles in length. It com¬
mences to the south at the river Tronto (the ancient
Truentus), by which it is divided from the kingdom of
Naples, and extends to the S. mouth of the river Po,
where the Lombardo - Venetian kingdom commences.
From the Tronto towards the N. there are along the
shore a number of small towns and villages, defended by
towers, but no harbour or place of shelter, and the coast
generally is low and sandy. At a short distance inland, on
a hilly range, there are several small flourishing towns,
such as Ripatransone, Fermo, Macerata, Recanati, Loreto,
and Osimo. About 45 miles from the Tronto, the land
trending N. by W. half W., is the city of Ancona, beauti¬
fully situated, and spreading like an amphitheatre between
the two promontories of Monte Ciriaco and Monte Comero.
Its famous port, constructed by the emperor Trajan, and
enlarged by Clement XII., who made it a free port to en¬
courage its commerce, is protected by two moles, of which
the one erected by Trajan is 2000 feet in length, 100
feet in breadth, and 68 feet in height. On its point there
are a battery and a lighthouse, and near it a triumphal
arch of white marble, erected in honour of Trajan, and
considered as one of the most perfect and imposing monu¬
ments of Roman magnificence still existing. The port has
a lazaretto, where the quarantine regulations are very strict.
The city is defended by several forts and strong fortifica¬
tions near the harbour and on the heights of Monte Pelago
and Monte Cardeto. The harbour of Ancona is the best
on the Italian coast of the Adriatic, and vessels may lie in
it secure from all winds, as the mole towards its termination
has a turn to the west, forming a hook; it is, however, too
full of shoals ever to be of consequence as a naval port.
Three or four frigates may be well sheltered within the light¬
house, moored by the head and the stern ; but in no part
of the harbour could ships of that class swing to their
anchors. The city is walled, has the best arsenal in the
Roman dominions, and carries on considerable trade, arising
chiefly from the exportation of corn, wool, and silk. The
most appropriate merchant ships for Ancona are those not
drawing more than 16 feet of water.
From Ancona to Rimini, a distance of about 50 miles,
the coast is of moderate height, and the shore is sandy.
1 he chief towns are Sinigaglia, Fano, Pesaro, and Rimini;
but at none of these is there a harbour for shipping. Sini¬
gaglia has only a mole to protect small craft. A great fair
is held here, to which many of the Greeks resort, and
exchange honey, wax, tar, and other articles, for hemp,
wheat, and silk. Fano and Pesaro possess little or no trade,
VOL. xvn.
but are ancient places, each furnished with a great number Papal
of churches. Rimini is a decayed, but still elegant town, States,
situated in a rich plain between the Rivers Ausa and Ma-
recchia. Near the mouth of the latter river there is good
anchorage on muddy ground, in 7 fathoms water; but
there is no shelter from the sea-winds. At 4 leagues far¬
ther to the north there is good anchorage opposite the town
of Cesenatico, a place inhabited for the most part by fisher¬
men. It is connected by a canal with the episcopal town
of Cervia, near which there is an extensive plain, used in
summer for the production of salt by natural evaporation.
On the river Montone, about 5 miles distant from the
sea, stands the city of Ravenna, once an important place,
and the seat of government, but now fallen into decay,
though still possessing several silk manufactories and some
commerce. Its port, which is still frequented by the coast¬
ing crafts of the Adriatic, is connected with the sea by
the Canale Naviglio, 7 miles long, opened in 1737; its
entrance is denoted by a beacon or moat, on which a
light is hoisted at night. At the tower of Volano is the
little port of Goro, the westernmost branch of the river
Po, within which ships may enter and be secure in 6
fathoms water; and at that point the Roman territory is
terminated by the S. stream of the Po. The alluvial mat¬
ter of the different branches of that powerful stream has
formed numerous shoals, which extend to a considerable
distance from the shore, and the bank extends outwards to
the distance of 2 leagues. Within the shoals vessels may
haul up, and do so occasionally, in from 6 to 10 fathoms
water. The mouths of the Po present a figure much resem¬
bling those formed by the Mississippi in America. The
river, from its source in the Alps, has a course of nearly
380 miles to the sea, and is augmented by many smaller
rivers which fall into it, most of its branches being navigable
by small vessels. The current is very strong, and its bed
having become so elevated that the level of its waters, in
the lower part of its course, is several feet above that of the
neighbouring lands, great injury has often been done by
inundations. To prevent this, strong dykes have been gra¬
dually raised on its banks.
On the whole of the eastern coast, which has been here
surveyed, there are a great number of small streams running
to the sea. They have their source in the range of the
Apennines at no great distance, and are consequently of
short but rapid course. Many of them are dry, or nearly so,
in the summer, at which season the whole district suffers
very severely from the want of fresh water.
The surface of the Roman territory, with the exception
of those parts on the N. which form part of the valley of Po,
and the portion to the S. on the banks of the I iber, is hilly,
and much of it mountainous. The chain of the Apennines,
after forming the boundary between the Bolognese and I us-
cany, enters the S. part of the Papal States near Borgo San
Sepolcro, and runs through them in the direction of N.W.
and S.E. much nearer the Adriatic than the Mediterranean
Sea, and then is continued through the Neapolitan pro¬
vinces of the Abruzzi, leaving on their W. slope the Cam-
pagna di Roma, in the centre of which the city of Rome
stands. From this range of mountains spurs project on
both sides, some of them extending to the Mediterranean
Sea, and others to the Adriatic; and between these pro¬
jections are to be found valleys of much beauty, and of the
highest degree of fertility. Without any visible commu¬
nication with this ridge of mountains stand the lofty vol¬
canic range of Monte Cimino, near Viterbo; Monte Santo
Oreste (the ancient Soracte), a mass of secondary lime¬
stone projecting to a height of 2250 feet from the midst
of the volcanic tufa of the Campagna; and the volcanic
group of Albano, of which Monte Cavo, the highest peak,
is 3130, and Rocca di Papa 2648 feet above the level of
the sea. The Apennines here are nearly as naked and as
2 H
242 PAPAL STATES.
Papal desolate as those in Tuscany and in the vicinity of Genoa,
States, much more lofty. The Velino, to the N.W. of Rome,
—rises 8180 feet above the level of the sea; Monte Sibilla, on
the border of the Abruzzi, is 7200 feet; and Monte Ter-
minillo is 6998 feet. The great northern plain, which is
bounded by the Apennines, the river Po, and the Adriatic
Sea, has the same character as the plains of Austrian Lom¬
bardy. It is covered with a rich marshy soil, which, near
Comacchio, terminates in an almost useless, and always in¬
salubrious swamp. Along the south-western coast extend
vast swamps, which are occasionally flooded by the sea.
They are scarcely habitable, though sometimes shepherds
resort to them. The pestilential air causes them to be
avoided. These districts, from the mouth of the riy.er
Astura to Terracina, contain the Pontine Marshes, which
neither the emperors of ancient, nor the popes of modern
Rome have been able to render of any real value. What
Pope Pius VI. performed has been of no great avail, though
it has produced a certain improvement, and has enabled some
tracts of them to be changed into rich pastures.
The Mediterranean Sea receives the water of but one
considerable river in the Papal States. I he celebrated
Tiber rises in the Apennines, under Monte Coronaro,
below the village of Le Baize, in the duchy of 1 uscany,
enters the Roman territory at the town of Borgo San Se-
polcro, and taking a south-westerly direction, and passing
through Rome, after a course of nearly 250 miles, during
which it receives forty tributary streams, falls into the sea
at Ostia. It is only navigable for the last 15 miles between
the metropolis and its mouth. The principal river of the
Roman States is that which forms one of its boundaries,
the Po. From the Roman States its water is augmented by
the streams of the Panaro, the Reno, the Riolo, the Porotto,
the Idice, the Santerno, the Senio, and the Lamone. These
various streams are for the most part united by canals, and
rendered navigable; and they also greatly contribute to
cultivation by affording easy means of irrigating the fields
near them. Besides the Po, the other principal streams
which empty themselves into the Adriatic from the Papal
Territory are,—the Montone, which runs into the sea near
Ravenna; the Savio, which empties itself S. of it; the
Uso, a small stream near Forli, which Benedict XIV., by
a papal bull, decided, in 1756, was the Rubicon, though
the arguments preponderate in favour of the Fiumicino or
Pisatello, a small stream near it, as that at which Julius
Caesar hesitated; the Metauro, which runs by Fano; the
Foglio, near Pesaro; the Musone, the Leta, the Asone,
ami the Tronto, which last forms the boundary between
the Roman States and the territory of Naples.
There are several lakes in the Papal States. The largest
of these is that of Perugia (the ancient Thrasimenus),
celebrated for the victory obtained upon its banks by Han¬
nibal over the Romans. It is nearly 30 miles in circum¬
ference, is surrounded by gentle eminences covered with
oak and pines, and contains three small islands. Its gieatest
depth is 21 feet. It is well stored with fish, and the outlet
is into the Tiber. rIhe Lake of Bolsena (the ancient Im/-
siniensis), near the town of that name, is about 26 miles in
circumference, and has two small islands. Its shores aie
deserted in consequence of the most fatal malaria. I he
Lake of Bracciano (the ancient Sabatinus), near the town
of that name, is 20 miles in circumference. Besides these
lakes, there are many smaller, such as the Lake of Vico (the
Ciminus of the ancients), 3 miles in circumference; the
charming lakes of Albano and of Nemi, in the vicinity of
Rome ; the Lake of Pie di Luco, near Rieti; &c.
The mountainous parts of this territory abound in mineral
springs of various degrees of medicinal celebrity. Those
most frequented are,—the acid springs near Rome ; the
baths of Bracciano ; the baths of Stigliano, near Tolfa ; the
baths of Palazzi, near Civitavecchia; the warm baths and
acid springs of the Bulicame, between Montefiascone and Papal
Viterbo ; the baths of La Porretta, 32 miles from Bologna, States,
on the road to Florence by Pistoia, &c.
The climate of the Ecclesiastical States varies much
according to the local position of the several parts. Some
of those produce the orange in perfection, whilst others are
covered with snow during great part of the year. The tops
of the Apennines are clothed with snow in October, and
it generally remains till May. The northern part, in the
valley of the Po, has the climate of Lombardy, and the
environs of Rome that of Naples. At Terracina the gardens
are inclosed with fences formed by the aloe. The heat is
tempered by breezes from the sea. The air upon and be¬
tween the Apennines is generally favourable to health;
but on the Pontine Marshes, and near the mouths of the Po,
as well as near to Rimini, the marshes are gradually extend¬
ing, and their pestiferous influence is observable in the in¬
crease of dense fogs, and the diminution of the population.
The description of the agriculture of Lombardy, given
under that head in the present work, will apply to the por¬
tion of the territory of the Church near the P?;, in the tour
legations of Bologna, Ferrara, Ravenna, and Forli. In the
other parts the art is most negligently exercised, as well in
the Apennines as in the plains ot Rome itself. I he Roman
States produce a sufficiency of corn for their own consump¬
tion ; and, in ordinary years, even for exportation. Wheat,
maize, and barley, are the chief grain ; but the great mass
of the poorer people eat but little bread, and, especially
in the Apennines, substitute for it chesnuts, onions, and
beans. A great part of their food consists of fruits, culin¬
ary vegetables, and salads. They rarely taste animal food,
except a little bacon or sausages. Flax and hemp are raised
in great quantities to supply the inhabitants, and for expor¬
tation. Saffron is also produced to a considerable extent,
and is an article of export. Some cotton is raised, and the
growth of it is rapidly extending. In some parts many
plants are raised that are applied by the perfumers to their
preparations, such as spikenard, anise, and others. Ihe
olive grows everywhere, but is almost exclusively reserved
for home consumption.
Vines are generally cultivated, but their management
is careless, and the selection of the kinds of them very
negligent and injudicious. The best wine is made about
Montefiascone, Orvieto, and Albano; but the greater part
of the common wine is very indifferent. Some little of a
moderate quality is made about Bologna and Ravenna, part
of which finds a market in Venice. The land produces a
great variety of fruits. In the plain of Rome oranges, cit¬
rons, pomegranates, and figs ripen; and amongst the
Apennines there is an abundance of almonds, walnuts, and
chesnuts. The forests produce wood for fuel, and some
little is sent to the Isle of Elba to supply the iron-works.
On several parts of the coast much soda is prepared. The
woods of Terracina have many cork-trees, the bark of which
forms an article of foreign commerce.
Formerly the breeding of horses was carefvdly attended
to, but of late it has been negligently pursued; and the ce¬
lebrated race known by the name of Borghese has deterio¬
rated, and nearly disappeared. On the Apennines asses
and mules are used as beasts of burden and for riding ; and
for the plough, oxen are almost universally employed. The
breed of cows is very fine ; and they roam about the Cam-
pagna di Roma almost without attendance. The milk is
not converted into cheese or butter, but the profit they yield
to the proprietors, some of whom have herds ot nearly two
thousand, arises from the sale of the calves, and of the
mothers when fattened. Sheep are very numerous, espe¬
cially on the shores of the Mediterranean. There are two
distinct races. One of these, called negretti, are small, with
very strong and very white wool, as fine as that of Aragon,
whence the race, as well as the name they bear, has been
PAPAL STATES.
243
Papal derived. They give abundance of milk, from which much
States, cheese is made. These flocks, like their ancestois in
Spain, are migratory. In the month of May they march
from the plains near Rome to the mountains of Norcia
and the Abruzzi, and return again in October. I he other
race of sheep, called puglia, are inferior in their wool, and
are stationary on the Apennines and the lands situated on
the Adriatic shore. Goats are very numerous, both on
the plains and on the Apennines. I hey yield abundance
of milk, which is converted into cheese ; but much of it
serves to sustain the swine, of which large herds are h^tl
and fattened upon some of the most extensive farms. I he
production of silk is one of the most important objects in
Roman agriculture, and gives occupation to almost eveiy
member of certain families for the season. The soil is
favourable to the growth of the white mulberry, the leases
of which yield the finest silk; that of the best quality,
collected near Fossombrone, is chiefly exported to Eng¬
land and Germany.
The manufacturing operations of the Ecclesiastical States
are very limited, and chiefly adapted to domestic con¬
sumption. The chief seat of the silk manufactory is Bo¬
logna, which formerly had the monopoly of the trade in
crapes, but now divides it with the fabrics of other parts Papal
of Europe. Linen and woollen cloths are made, some good States,
paper is produced, and leather is made in several parts;
also glass, pottery, rosaries from Loretto, artificial flowers,
tallow, and wax candles, with a variety of small articles.
There are no mines worked within the Roman territory,
but considerable quantities of excellent alum and of sul¬
phur are furnished, and some saltpetre ; and on the coast
there are lagunes, from which culinary salt is made by the
natural evaporation of the sun’s rays.
The Papal States are divided into twenty provinces, the
first of which is the Comarca of Rome, which includes
within its jurisdiction the Capital and the Agro Romano,
and is governed by a president, who is always a cardinal.
The other nineteen provinces are divided into Legations,
which are governed by cardinals, though of late years this
rule has not been strictly adhered to, and Delegations,
governed by prelates, who are styled Monsignori. Each
legation or delegation is divided into districts, each dis¬
trict into governorships, and these into communes. I he
following table will show the extent and population of each
province, as well as of its capital, according to the official
returns of the last census, completed in 1853 :—
Comarca di Roma.
'Bologna 
Ferrara  
Forli 
Ravenna 
Urbino with Pesaro....
VVelletri 
Ancona 
Macerata 
Camerino 
Fermo   
Ascoli 
Perugia 
Spoleto 
Rieti 
Viterbo 
Orvieto  
Civitavecchia 
Frosinone with Pon-
tecorvo 
l^Benevento 
Area in
geogra¬
phical
square
miles.
1064-7
430
332-5
673-6
240-9
252-7
358-5
1170-7
885
400-2
872-2
238-3
286-1
555-4
46-2
12,041-6
Population of each Pbovince.
In
1816.
245,203
280,701
170,727
150,933
123,767
198,145
48,098
147,355
197,313
31,136
77,089
69,058
181,542
102,053
55,861
101,164
21,736
15,886
116,770
20,184
2,354,721
In
1833.
283,456
322,228
210,883
194,399
156,552
225,806
56,530
158,159
220,130
36,592
89,404
78,946
202,660
116,759
59,394
113,041
24,877
19,601
139,979
23,046
2,732,442
In
1814.
314,274
350,588
219,109
202,546
172,595
235,386
58,313
167,119
233,004
37,705
104,003
83,980
216,587
126,360
69,755
123,874
25,253
24,700
143,234
22,422
2,920,807
In
Towns.
313,230
113,682
101,366
70,919
69,449
91,658
59,197
79,533
88,152
13,880
40,431
46,952
84,028
78,598
53,486
112,976
12,650
19,117
115,021
21,480
1,585,805
In
Country.
13,279
261,949
143,158
147,514
106,545
166,093
2,816
96,986
154,952
29,111
69,890
44,964
150,505
56,431
20,197
15,348
16,397
1,584
39,538
1,696
Total.
326,509
375,631
244,524
218,433
175,994
257,751
62,013
176,519
243,104
42,991
110,321
91,916
234,533
135,029
73,683
128,324
29,047
20,701
154,559
23,176
1,538,953 3,124,758 285
503
367
297
404
333
242
144
531
361
178
437
256
200
152
184
147
122
72
278
502
Number
of
Houses.
39,728
45,904
31,098
32,875
21,542
40,709
11,097
24,833
40,899
7,219
19,333
15,490
38,358
24,988
13,289
23,477
4,747
2,546
25,259
5,066
468,457
Population of the
capital of the
province.
(1856)
178,500
74,421
32,000
16,643
21,056
5,555
11,568
12,400
28,804
10,956
4,558
14,000
12,000
18,240
11,170
11,000
14,226
6,943
7,823
8,000
7,500
16,000
The annexed table, showing the sex and the various ages
of the population, will give an idea of the comparative
longevity in the Papal States:—
Ages. Males.
Under 5 years 184,175
From 5 to 10 years 181,028
10 to
„ 20 to
„ 30 to
„ 40 to
„ 50 to
„ 60 to
„ 70 to
„ 80 to
„ 90 to
„ 95 to 100
Upwards of 100
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
95
.308,057
.281,786
.219,726
.173,352
.120,287
.. 86,417
.. 37,127
.. 6,679
287
56
11
Females.
171,986
168,819
285,396
265,901
208,871
170,137
122,571
89,519
35,173
6,031
296
62
8
Total.
356,161
349,847
593,453
547,687
428,597
343,489
242,858
175,936
72,300
12,710
583
118
19
Total  1,599,988 1,524,770 3,123,758
The population was grouped in 608,280 families, each of
an average number of 5'14 members, nearly one-half of
them living in towns, and the other half in the country;
but commerce and manufactures are so insignificant that
many of the inhabitants of the towns also are more or less
dependent upon agriculture. I he subjoined table, showing
the value of the total yearly impoits and exports, as well as
of some of the principal articles, from 1850 to 1853, will
give an idea of the chief produce of agriculture, as well as
of the state of the manufactures of the country.
The foreign trade of the States, which is not consider¬
able as compared with their extent of coast both on the
Adriatic and the Mediterranean, is chiefly carried on at
Ancona, but varies much in different years. Thus, the
number of vessels of various nations which entered that
port in 1854 was 1421, of 80,612 tons ; in 1855 it was 941,
of 76,002 tons; in 1856, 1296, of 121,691 tons; and in
1857, 684, of 110,704 tons. The vessels that cleared it
Were,—1274 in 1854, 919 in 1S55, 1259 in 1856, and 652,
of 104,786 tons, in 1857.
Ji
244
PAPAL STATES.
Papal
States.
Value of Principal Articles, and Total of each Year.
Papal
States.
Hemp, raw   
„ combed  
„ prepared  
Wheat and buck- 1
wheat J
Thread, silk.... 
Maize  
Rice 
Oxen, cows, swine, 't
and other ani- 1
mals  j
Works of modern
art, sculpture, &c.
Sheep’s wool 
Manufact. of linen
and hemp 
Cordage of hemp...
Salted fish 
Skins and furs 
Books  
Stone and building 1
materials J
Mercery  
Other articles 
Total exports.
1850.
L.
354,337
148,130
39,114
254,816
177.444
99,179
49,726
177,228
42,083
85,669
68,356
35,877
22,022
35,916
20,570
20,286
12,405
313,473
1,956,630
1851.
L.
422,537
137,486
41,145
216,088
196,718
133,319
39,573
195,133
96,688
38,069
65,857
29,748
15,335
33,608
36,313
26,780
11,333
302,353
2,048,083
1852.
L.
471,434
153,607
44,287
288,448
269,678
41,767
64,647
166,450
18,133
93,984
74,946
27,356
19,143
30,121
27,826
33,885
23,897
344,348
2,203,907
1853.
L.
314.498
11,755
39,553
146,075
219,204
9,435
23,325
176,014
67,077
81,415
66,745
27,021
14.323
37.170
31,635
32,427
11,704
350,574
1,659,950
Manufactures, cotton
Do. woollen
Do. silk ....
Do. linen&bemp
Thread—hemp, 1 in- 1
en, and cotton... j
Thread—silk and
woollen  
Wheat, buckwheat,
and maize  
Coffee, raw, &c 
Animals 
Sugar 
Salted fish 
Skins and furs 
Mercery 
Stone, wood, &c.,
for building 
Stone, wood, &c.,
for works of art
Coffee 
Tobacco  
Iron of various kinds
Other articles....
Total imports...
1850.
L.
211,619
169,515
133,721
42,343
142,145
9,846
66,044
69,419
138,956
127,456
57,272
88,140
46.942
14.942
45,348
59,622
69,871
591,799
2,085,000
1851.
L.
233,290
182,292
153,567
46,725
158,513
11,031
60,306
71,077
136,276
119,610
55,639
79,944
45,112
12,771
54,064
45,909
69,380
694,545
2,230,051
1852.
L.
252,803
182,918
135,223
29,518
151,099
9,441
35,087
50,500
143,663
116,143
61,365
68,934
45,172
14,431
56,437
41,295
62,692
693,406
1853.
L.
228,192
168,033
135,588
24,908
147,197
11,814
389,838
35.049
62,383
157,419
103,977
42,624
67,187
38,727
13,785
53,185
40,390
56,259
752,142
2,150,127 2,528,697
The government of the Papal States is an unlimited
elective hierarchy, presided over by the Pope, and ad¬
ministered by a Council of Ministers, of whom the Car¬
dinal secretary of state and of foreign affairs is the chief and
most influential member. The other ministers,—interior,
grace and justice, finance, war, police and commerce,
public works and fine arts,—though they may be laymen,
are generally ecclesiastics or prelates. The latter are a
class peculiar to the Papal States. Any one who has passed
the degree of Doctor of Laws, and enjoys a small inde¬
pendent income, may be admitted into the Prelatura,
which entitles to employment in the Pope’s household, and
in the various departments of the state, and is the stepping-
stone to preferment to most of the highest offices,—such
as nuncio, delegate, governor of Rome, &c., and possibly
even cardinal. The prelate wears a peculiar costume, is
styled Monsignore, though he is neither a bishop nor neces¬
sarily an ecclesiastic, and is bound by celibacy as long as
he retains office. If not in holy orders, on retiring from office,
he becomes a layman, and may marry. The election of
the Pope originally rested with all the clergy and the people
of Rome ; it was made, as AnastasiusBibliothecarius tells us,
“ A cunctis sacerdotibus seu proceribus, et omni clero nee
non et optimatibus, vel populo cuncto Romano” Before his
consecration the new Pope had to receive the imperial
sanction, and, by a decree of the Emperor Otho I., had to
swear to respect the rights of the clergy, of the people, and
of the emperor. In the year 1059 a great change was in¬
troduced by Pope Nicholas II., who vested the College ol
Cardinals with the exclusive right of electing the Pope out
of their own body. Eventually, and after a long contest,
not only the Popes emancipated themselves from any im¬
perial sanction to their election, but, under Gregory VII.,
the church asserted its pre-eminence over the empire.
On the death of a Pope, and till his funeral on the ninth
day, the supreme power of the state is in the hands of the
Cardinal Camerlengo, who, during that time, has even the
privilege of coining money bearing his own name and arms.
On the tenth day the cardinals are to meet in secret Con¬
clave, and by secret voting, and a majority of two-thirds of
their number, appoint a successor
The number of cardinals, who at first were the parish
priests of Rome {parochi cardinales), was limited to seventy
by Sixtus V. in 1586, in allusion to the number of dis¬
ciples commissioned by our Lord to preach the Gospel.
They constitute the Sacred College, are appointed for
their lifetime by the Pope, and are designated as Princes of
the Church. They rank in six classes,— ls£, Six cardinal
bishops of the suburban dioceses of Ostia (Velletri), Porto
(Civitavecchia), Sabina, Palestrina, Albano, and Frascati;
2d, Fifty cardinal priests; 3c?, Fourteen cardinal dea¬
cons. Their part in the government and in decisions alike
on spiritual and temporal affairs, and their share in the
revenues of the church, were agreed upon in the conclave
that was held after the death of Martin V., and were framed
in nine articles ratified after his election by Eugene IV.
in 1431, which may be called the Magna Charta of the
Sacred College.
In the Papal States, exclusive of Rome, there are nine
archbishoprics and fifty-two bishoprics. The archiepisco-
pal sees are Bologna, Ravenna, Ferrara, Spoleto, Fermo,
Camerino, Bevagna, Urbino, and Benevento. The inha¬
bitants all adhere to the Roman Catholic religion, with the
exception of about 12,500 Jews, who reside at Rome, An¬
cona, and Ferrara, and have eight synagogues. At Rome
they are compelled to live in a separate confined quarter,
called the Ghetto. The clergy is very numerous—21,415
monks and friars, occupying 1800 monasteries; and 16,905
priests; forming a total of 38,200, or more than one for
every 82 inhabitants. There are, besides, about 8000
nuns, with 600 nunneries. In Rome alone there are nearly
4500 priests, monks, and friars, and 1800 nuns.
The education of the people is very little attended to,
and, with the exception of the kingdom of the Two Sicilies,
the instruction of the lower classes in reading and writing
is less spread than in any other part of Italy. In all the
communes that can afford it there are schools for primary
education, under the superintendence of the parish priest:
the teachers, always ecclesiastics, are appointed by the
communal council. In the episcopal towns there are the
bishops’ schools, for the education of persons intended for
the church. F’or the higher branches of knowledge there
PAP
PAP
245
tpenburg. are eight universities, two primary and six secondary ones.
^ The primary are,—the Sapienza at Rome, founded in 1244 ;
and the university of Bologna, which dates from 1119.
The secondary universities are those of Ferrara (1264),
Perugia (1307), Macerata (1548), Fermo (1589), Camerino
(1727), and the Gregoriana, or Collegio Romano, at Rome
itself. The number of young men who receive in them an
academical education is reckoned at about 3400. The
education of women is greatly neglected, and the little edu¬
cation they receive is almost entirely acquired in convents.
The Corpus Juris and the Jus Canonicum, or the civil
law and the canon law, and a. Motu Proprio of July 10,
1831, by Gregory XVI., are the texts by which justice
is imparted in the Papal States. The judges are appointed
by the Pope, and are removeable. There are tribunals of
first instance in the capital of every province, and courts
of appeal at Bologna, Macerata, and Rome. Over the
latter is the Corte della Segnatura, sitting at Rome, which
resembles the French Cour de Cassation. It revises the
judgments of the courts of appeal, and in case of any vio¬
lation of the law, annuls them, and sends the parties before
another court for a new trial. At Ancona, and in the other
principal towns, there are tribunals of commerce, to decide
commercial cases. When an ecclesiastic, however, is con¬
cerned in a lawsuit, the jurisdiction belongs to the bishop’s
court, from whose judgment an appeal may be interposed
to the court of the metropolitan. In all the courts the
proceedings are public, except in state trials, which are
brought before the Consulta, a secret tribunal, in which
the prisoner is allowed neither to see the witnesses nor to
have communicated to him the nature of the evidence
to be adduced; and he can only be defended by the
official advocate of the Consulta. The Vicario’s court at
Rome, and the bishop’s courts in the provinces, have arbi¬
trary powers summarily to imprison any person of either
sex on the grounds of immorality; a power which often
leads to acts of great injustice.
The whole military force of the Papal States in 1857 Papenburg
amounted to 16,900 infantry, and 1315 cavalry. It con-
sisted of two Swiss regiments, two regiments of Italian in¬
fantry, a battalion of chasseurs de Vincennes, one regi¬
ment of dragoons, one of artillery, a corps of military
engineers, the Pope’s noble guard of 80 noblemen, the
Swiss body-guard (126 in number), 4540 gend’armes, and
1760 custom-house guards. The principal fortresses are,
Ancona, Ferrara, Civitavecchia, and Castel St Angelo,
in Rome, of which the two former are now held by the
Austrians, and the two latter by the French. A gun-brig,
two steamboats, and some small craft, form all the Papal
navy.
The finances of the country have long been in an
embarrassed state. Since 1828 there has been a yearly
deficit, which has occasionally been met by an additional
loan. According to the official returns lately published
by the minister of finance, the revenue of the state,
which in 1851 was L.2,269,445, in 1857 had increased to
L.3,009,524; but the expenditure, which in 1851 was
L.2,621,504, had also swelled to L.3,104,692. From the
table we give below of the estimated amount of each branch
of the public revenue and expenditure from 1853 to 1857,
it will be seen that the expense of collecting the revenue
amounts to nearly 25 per cent, on the gross receipts ; and
that the lotteries, which have a most demoralizing influence,
and check the benefit of savings-banks among the lower
classes, give the state a net yearly income of only about
L.63,000, nearly 75 per cent, of the gross receipts being
swallowed up by the machinery of collecting it. It also
will be seen that in 1857, 5,076,018 scudi, or more than
one-half of the net revenue of 9,716,638 scudi, went to
pay the interest on the public debt. The yearly deficit,
it must be observed, is greater than that given in the sub¬
joined table, as for the last four years no returns are given
of the expenses of the ministry of the interior and the
ministry of police.
Estimated Amount of the Public Revenue and Expenditure from 1853 to 1857.
Direct taxes and domains 
Customs and excise 
Stamps and registration 
Post-office 
Lotteries   
Mint 
Public debt 
Fund retained for the use
of the minister of finance.
Ministry of the interior 
Ministry of police 
Ministry of commerce, fine "j
arts, agriculture, and in- i
dustry   J
Ministry of public works  
Army    
Ministry of grace and jus- 1
tice J
Census 
Extraordinary 
Revenue.
1853.
L.
570,906
,157,203
193,786
72,032
177,634
111,534
44,577
44,187
6,708
130
1,272
4,882
1,623
2,602
L.
603,791
1,133,618
186,882
72,135
172,594
144,292
44,128
22,094
8,509
1,749
5,238
1,529
9,015
Total  2,389,076 2,405,574 2,672,141 2,866,895 3,009,524
Deficit 
L.
677.388
1,191,056
196,298
72,322
179,117
157,548
65,623
28,616
5,910
17,656
1,390
79,217
L.
679,041
1,539,040
212,339
72,395
189,680
3,662
50,183
21,041
7,404
13,053
1,519
77,538
1857.
L.
672,423
1,634,354
222,348
74,018
217,340
3,745
51,065
31,562
8,420
15,313
1,925
77^011
Expenditure.
1853.
L.
82,278
126,055
22,923
46,945
118,946
105,967
950,750
286,058
188,548
39.103
17,853
97,915
359,194
88.103
8,747
104,275
2,643,660
254,581
L.
109,060
131,046
24,057
47,555
115.567
145.567
966,133
278,526
311,430
20,425
78,084
379,477
8,696
112,065
2,727,688
322,114
L.
109,832
148,357
23,560
50,317
118,814
166,980
1,057,575
286,765
311,712
102,730
378,985
8,759
118,500
2,882,886
210,745
1856.
L.
102,912
412,664
24,610
49,095
120,473
6,275
,070,415
287,244
313,976
106,240
406,280
8,759
100,550
3,009,493
142,598
L.
103,394
450,627
24,527
50,721
143,721
6,692
1,068,079
287,570
322,535
111,203
424,247
8,755
102,621
3,104,692
95,168
. onlY railway as yet constructed in the Roman States
is the short line of 10 miles from Rome to Frascati, which
was opened in 1856. Another line from Rome to Civita¬
vecchia is not yet (1858) completed. (* * *)
PAPENBURG, a town of Hanover, in the government
of Osnabriick, near the left bank of the Ems, 23 miles
S.S.E. of Emden. It contains distilleries, saw-mills, and
manufactories of sail-cloth. Many ships are built here ; and
an active trade is carried on. Pop. (1852), including the
village of Drostensyhl, 5641.
246
PAPER.
Paper. Paper is a word derived from the Greek TrdTrvpos, pa-
k—pyms, the name applied to the celebrated Egyptian plant
which was so much used by the ancients in all kinds of
writing. It is unnecessary to describe the different expe¬
dients which men have, in every age and country, employed
for giving permanence to their ideas, and handing them
down to posterity. When the art of writing was once dis¬
covered, stones, bricks, leather, stuccoed cloth, potsherds,
leaves of trees, the outer and inner bark, plates of lead, wood,
wax, and ivory, were all employed. Among the curious
miscellaneous relics of ancient Egypt which have come
down to us, are fragments of pottery inscribed with various
documents, as soldiers’ furloughs, orders of admission, me¬
moranda, accounts, &c. In the progress of society men
have tried other more permanent devices for this purpose,
and have successively invented the Egyptian paper, paper
made of cotton, paper manufactured from the bark of trees,
and in our times paper prepared from old rags.
The only kinds of paper which merit particular atten¬
tion ase—first, the Egyptian ; secondly, that made from
cotton ; thirdly, paper made from the interior bark of trees ;
fourthly, Chinese paper ; fifthly, Japanese paper; sixthly,
paper made from asbestos'; and, lastly, paper prepared from
linen and cotton rags.
Egyptian Egyptian paper, so called from its having been used by
paper. the ancient Egyptians, was made from a species of reed
called papyrus, which grew on the banks of the Nile. T he
ancient botanists placed the papyrus amongst the gramineous
plants, or dog-grass. Ignorant of the particular kind to
which it belonged, they were contented to specify it under
the name of papyrus, of which there were two kinds,
namely, that of Egypt, and that of Sicily. 1 he papyrus
{Papyrus Niloticus; Papyrus jpgyptiacus ; Papyrus an¬
tiquorum ; Papyrus antiquorum JSiloticus) is of the order
Triandria Digynia, and is one of the many varieties
of the genus Cyperus. The stem is naked, and reaches
a height of ten and even fifteen feet. It is surmounted by
a plume of leaves and flowers. Besides its well-known
seat in Egypt, the papyrus, in several varieties, has been
observed in Syria, Sicily, Calabria, India, and Madagas¬
car. The name papyrus was probably but the Greek
transcript of the native name of the plant, habeer ; but the
same plant was also known to the Greeks under several
other names, as /E/SAos, /3p3Aos, and, more rarely, SeAros,
from the chief seat of its cultivation, the delta of the
Nile. Considerable uncertainty has prevailed, nevertheless,
among modern botanists, as to the exact identification of
the plant formerly used in Egypt for the manufactme of
paper. Many have supposed that some alteiation of the
soil of Egypt, or in the system of cultivating the plant,
may have induced such modifications of its appearance as
to render it difficult of recognition ; and it has even been
suggested that it may have disappeared altogether in the
long series of ages, and the many social and political i evolu¬
tions through which Egypt has passed since the classic times.
Whatever doubts may have formerly existed on this
point are now at an end. Bruce not only saw the papyrus
growing both in Egypt and Abyssinia, but actually made
paper of it, in the same manner as that in which it was
made by the ancients. He tells us, likewise, that, so far
from any part of it being useless, the papyrus is at this day
used in Abyssinia for making boats; a piece of the acacia
tree being put into the bottom to serve as a keel. That
the boats of ancient Egypt were made of a species of
papyrus, probably of the very same construction described
by Bruce, we know from the testimony of Pliny, who in¬
forms us that the plants were first sewed together, and then
gathered up at stem and stern, and tied fast to the keel: Paper.
Conseritur bibula Memphitis cymba papyro. It is not by
any means clear, however, that the plant which Bruce found
in use for the manufacture of boats is the same which he
made into paper; and perhaps, indeed, a good deal of the
difficulty among modern botanists has arisen from their not
observing that more than one variety of the Cyperus appears
to have been turned to different uses by the Egyptians ; to
some of which uses—as the making of baskets, mats, sandals,
sails, and even punts or boats—the Cyperus used in paper¬
making appears but little suited, or rather, in which it
could not be so profitably employed. Now, Sir Gardner
Wilkinson mentions two varieties which are still common
in Egypt—the Cyperus dives and the Cyperus papyrus.
The former, which is even yet cultivated for many of the
uses specified above, he thinks to have been that used by
the ancients for boats and for all the other coarse manu¬
factures. The Cyperus papyrus (the Papyrus hieraticus
of Strabo, and the herd of modern Egypt) was reserved
chiefly for the manufacture of paper.
Another question has arisen among modern botanists,
whether the papyrus of Sicily is the same with that of
Egypt, and whether the Romans used the former plant
for the purpose of paper-making, or for any other of
the uses of the Egyptian papyrus. The Sicilian plant is
called in Italy papero, or pipero. A careful examination
of it was made by the celebrated naturalist, Cesalpino, for
the purpose of resolving this question. His opinion was,
that the two plants, although bearing a strong resemblance to
each other, were in reality different. The papyrus of Sicily,
says he, which is there commonly called pipero, has a longer
and thicker stem than the plant cyperus. It rises some¬
times to the height of four cubits; the angles are obtuse,
and the stem at the base is surrounded with leaves growing
from the root; and there are no leaves on the stem, even
when the plant is at its greatest perfection, but it carries at
the top a large plume, which resembles a great tuft of
dishevelled hairs. This is composed of a great number of
triangular pedicles, in the form of reeds, at the extremity
of which are placed the flowers, between two small leaves
of a reddish colour like the cyperus. The roots are woody,
about the thickness of reeds, jointed, and throw out a great
number of branches, which extend themselves in an ob¬
lique direction. These are scented somewhat like the cy-
perus, but their colour is a lighter brown. From the lower
part issue many small fibres, and from the higher a number
of stems shoot up, which, in proportion as they are tender,
contain a sweet juice.
An interesting description of the Sicilian plant, accom¬
panied by elaborate drawings, was written by Doctor Dome¬
nico Cirillo, and published at the celebrated Bodoni press at
Parma, in which the habitat, form, and characteristics of the
Sicilian plant are minutely described, and contrasted with
those of the Egyptian papyrus, as detailed by Pliny, Prosper
Alpinus, Bauhin, and others. Cirillo’s own conclusion from
the comparison is, that the Sicilian is exceedingly like {simil-
limam) the Egyptian plant, as described by Theophrastus
and Pliny. {Domenici Cyrilli, Medicince Doctoris, Cu-
perus Papyrus, folio, Parma, 1796, p. x.)
The accuracy of this judgment was impugned by some
of the botanists of the last century. But later researches
have tended to confirm the authority of the older na¬
turalist. It is certain that the ancients themselves re¬
cognised the same character of resemblance between two
varieties of the plant which they regarded as distinct. Theo¬
phrastus {Histor. Plantarum, iv. 8.) distinguishes the sari
{crdpi) and the papyrus {Trdirvpos); observing that, although
PAPER. 247
Paper, they have a decided character of resemblance, they differ in
this, that the papyrus sends forth thick and tall stems, which
being divided into slender plates, are fit for the fabrication
of paper, whilst the sari has small stems, considerably shorter,
and altogether useless for any kind of paper.
The papyrus, therefore, which anciently served to make
paper, must not be confounded with the papyrus of Sicily,
which is also found in Calabria. According to Strabo, the
former was not to be found anywhere except in Egypt and
in India. The greater part of botanists have believed that
the Sicilian plant is the same with the sari of Theophrastus ;
but others have alleged that the papyrus of Egypt and the
sari were the same plant in two different stages of its ex¬
istence, or considered with respect to the greater or less
height; which, according to them, might depend upon the
qualities of the soil, the difference of the climate, or other
accidental causes. In proof of this, it is maintained, that
there is an essential difference between the papyrus grow¬
ing in the waters and the same plant growing on the banks
of rivers and in marshes. The first of these has thick and
tall stems, and a plume in the form of a tuft of hair, very
long and slender, and without any seed. The second differs
from the first in all these particulars ; it has a shorter and
more slender stem, its plume is loaded with flowers, and
consequently it produces seed. In whatever way we con¬
sider these facts, it is sufficient for us to know, that the
difference between the papyrus and the sari neither depends
on climate, nor soil, nor situation. The plants, whose dif¬
ference depended on these circumstances, both grew in
Egypt, and were both employed in the manufacture of paper.
We should add, nevertheless, that, whatever may be the
specific differences between the Egyptian and the Sicilian
papyrus, the latter may also, absolutely speaking, be con¬
verted into paper. Cavaliere Landolina Nava of Syracuse,
and others, have actually made paper of it, and sheets of the
paper are still offered to travellers as specimens of the manu¬
facture ; but they are decidedly inferior in every respect to the
ancient Egyptian fabric. (Wilkinson’s Egyptians iii. 148.)
Indeed, not only for the manufacture of paper according
to the ancient plan, but in every other industrial point of
view, the Sicilian plant appears to be entirely inferior to the
kindred one of Egypt.
The Cyperus papyrus of the ancients was chiefly culti¬
vated in Lower Egypt, especially in the Sebennitic Nome ;
and the right of growing and selling it was one of the go¬
vernment monopolies. The date of the origin of the ma¬
nufacture of paper from this plant has been the subject of
much discussion. Pliny, on the authority of Varro, states,
that it was unknown in Egypt till the time of Alexander
the Great; but there is no doubt that this is a grievous
error ; and, although it is impossible to fix the precise time
at which the use of the papyrus began, modern antiquarians
have clearly shown that it dates back as far as the most
remote Pharaonic period, to which period many extant
papyri are believed to belong. Perhaps, however, the au¬
thority of Pliny may at least show that the use of papyrus,
especially outside of Egypt, as an article of commerce, be¬
came more general after the conquest of Alexander ; and
on this point Pliny is confirmed by other ancient authors,
especially Herodotus (v. 58, ii. 100), Athenaeus (xiv. 644),
and^ I heophrastus {His tor ia Plan tar urn, iv. 8, 4).
4 he manufacture of the papyrus is minutely described
by Pliny (xiii. 23); and, although his account contains some
obvious inaccuracies, and has been strangely misunderstood
by the commentators in one important point, it is on the
whole very interesting. He tells us that “paper is made
bom the papyrus by splitting it with a needle into very
thm leaves,^due care being taken that they be as broad
as possible. Some of tne commentators, and even of the
eminent Egyptian antiquarians (among the rest, Sir J.
Gaidner Wilkinson, iii. 148), understand this to mean that
“ the interior of the stalks of the plant, after the rind had Paper.
been removed, was cut into thin slices in the direction
of their length, and these being laid on a flat board in suc¬
cession, similar slices vvere placed over them at right angles.”
Another equally eminent Egyptian scholar, Seyffarth {Bei-
trdge zur Kenntniss des alien PEgyptiens, ii. 201), supposes
that it was the stem of the papyrus which was cut into
slices. The true explanation of the process, however, is
that given by Becker (in his Charikles, ii. 220), and indeed
follows naturally from the words of Pliny. Neither the pith
of the plant, nor the entire stem, if cut into slices, would
have furnished a suitable material. But under the coarse
exterior rind of the plant lie a number of successive layers
of the inner cuticle {philurce), about twenty in number.
These several integuments, instead of being sliced, were
separated from each other by the point of a needle, and the
portions so removed are the “ thin leaves” of which Pliny
speaks. The best and finest philurce were those which lay
nearest to the centre of the plant, the quality of the others
declining as they receded from it. The outer rind or bark
was only used for making ropes, and especially for ropes
which were to be submerged in water, for which they pos¬
sessed a remarkable power of resistance. The leaves thus
separated were rendered adhesive, not as Pliny states, by
the muddy Nile water (which he erroneously supposes to
have had certain glutinous qualities), but by the use of
a paste made of very fine flour, and mixed with size or glue
(for the preparation of which Pliny also furnishes a pre¬
scription, ch. 26), and then placed upon a flat board or
table, slightly inclined. The leaves were placed down
lengthwise, as long as the papyrus would admit of,—'forming,
as it were, the woof of the fabric,—and their jagged edges
were duly cut off’ at both ends ; a second layer of leaves,
which may be called the warp, was then laid down trans¬
versely upon these at right angles, in the same way, in fact,
says Pliny, “ that hurdles are made.” The leaves were
then pressed close, dried in the sun, beaten smooth with a
mallet, and polished with ivory, or some similar substance ;
alter which they were all united to each other, the best sheets
being always taken first, and the inferior ones after¬
wards. The sheets were rolled for use upon a cylinder
(scapus). The breadth (or depth) of the roll of course
was limited by the length of the strips of the papyrus;
its length could be indefinitely extended ; but Pliny says
that they never placed more than twenty sheets on the roll.
The frail specimens of Egyptian paper which have come
down to us have created the impression that the ancient pa¬
pyrus must, like the modern rice-paper, have had the grave
defect of exceeding brittleness. But it may be doubted whe¬
ther this impression is well founded ; and very possibly a
great deal of this apparent defect of the ancient papyri is
rather to be ascribed to the excessive dryness ot the climate
in which these rolls have been preserved for so many ages,
than to their own inherent brittleness. Sir Gardner W il¬
kinson states, that the best English drawing-paper, after a
few years in Egypt, becomes too brittle to fold up without
breaking ; and that on the contrary, when the papyrus is
gradually exposed to steam or to the damp of this cli¬
mate, it acquires a considerable degree of pliability. He
himself mentions one ancient papyrus of Memphis, still
extant, which is as pliable as common paper.
The finest quality of the Egyptian paper, that made of
the inner leaves, was called Hieratica. It was made, as
the name implies, by or for the priests, and was not suffered
to be sold, lest it should be desecrated by profane writings.
But it is curious that, although some writers have denied
the existence of palimpsest papyri (see Palimpsest), there
was a regular trade at Alexandria in Hieratic papyri which
had been already written upon, for the purpose of their being
washed and re-prepared for a second use. It was only, or at
least principally, in this way that, during the time of the Re-
248
PAPER.
Paper, public and in the early days of the Empire, the best papyrus
could be obtained in Rome. In later times the manufacture
was much improved, and especially after the paper began to
be manufactured in Rome. In the reign of Augustus, a very
fine quality was produced, which was called Augusta, in
honour of that emperor. The second quality was called
Liviana, from his wife Livia, the name Hieratica being de¬
graded to the third quality. A still coarser quality was
called Amphitheatrica, probably from its being made near
the amphitheatre of Alexandria; but this kind of paper
eventually became a very important article of commerce,
from its being used as the basis of a much finer quality,
which was manufactured at Rome by a new process. I he
inventor of this process, who gave his name to the paper
( Fanniand), was a grammarian of Rome—Q. Remmius Fan-
nius Palaemon—who is supposed to have been Quintilian’s
preceptor. His process is not described in detail, but it
consisted in carefully inserting finer slips into the coarse
paper, and probably re-laying or re-adjusting the slips into a
closer and smoother fabric. A fifth variety of paper was
the Saitica, so-called from the city of that name in Lower
Egypt, where it was manufactured in large quantities. A
sixth kind, Toeniotic, called from a place in the vicinity of
Alexandria, was made entirely from the coarse exterior
layers of the plant, and was sold by weight and not by qua¬
lity ; and a further kind, used only as wrapping-paper, and
called Emporetica (from qaTropos, a merchant), was so coarse
as to be quite unfit for writing upon.
The breadth of the paper, which, as we saw, was limited
by the length of the strips of the papyrus, was an import¬
ant element in the value of the different qualities. The
Augustan paper, according to Pliny, was thirteen fingers
in breadth, the Hieratic, eleven ; the Fannian, ten ; the
Amphitheatric, nine ; the Saitic, still narrower ; and the
Emporetic, only six fingers broad. Pliny adds that the
Emperor Claudius made a great improvement in the quality
of paper, as to smoothness, colour, and strength. The
Augustan paper had been so fine as not to resist sufficiently
the action of the sharp point of the pen ; and even when it
escaped being torn or perforated, the writing, from the ex¬
treme thinness of the paper, could be read from the opposite
side of the page. To obviate these inconveniences, a sheet
of coarser paper was taken as a groundwork, “over which was
laid a woof, as it were, formed of leaves of the first quality.”
In consequence of these improvements, the Claudian paper
(for so this paper was called) came to be preferred to all
others, though the Augustan was still used in Pliny’s time
for all the purposes of correspondence.
Papyrus paper formed an important branch of thecommerce
of Egypt, which continued to increase towards the end of
the Roman republic, and became still more extensive under
Augustus. The demand from foreign nations was often so^
great as to cause a scarcity at Rome; and, in the reign of
Tiberius, a tumult occurred amongst the people in conse¬
quence of this scarcity. In a letter of the Emperor Ha¬
drian, the preparing of papyrus is mentioned as one of the
principal occupations at Alexandria. “ In this lich and
opulent city,” says the emperor, “ nobody is seen idle.
Some are employed in the manufacture of cloth, some in
that of writing paper.” During the time of the Antonines,
this commerce continued to flourish ; and Apuleius says
that he wrote upon the paper of Egypt with a reed of the
Nile prepared at Memphis.
Towards the end of the third century, the demand for
papyrus became so great, that when the tyrant Hrmus con¬
quered Egypt, he boasted that he had seized as much paper
and size as would support his whole army. St Jerome in¬
forms us that it was much in use in the fifth century, when
he flourished. The duty on its importation had become
excessive towards the end of the fifth or the beginning of
the sixth century ; and on its being abolished by Theodoric,
the Gothic king of Italy, Cassiodorus congratulated the Paper,
whole world on the cessation of an impost on a merchan- “v-"-
dise which was so essentially necessary to mankind.
Down to what period papyrus continued to be used, and
still more to what date its manufacture continued, it is very
hard to determine. Montfaucon and Mabillon mention
several fragments written on this paper in the sixth cen¬
tury. One of these was a charter of the Emperor Justi¬
nian, entitled Charta Plenaries, Securitatis. In 1698,
Montfaucon saw, in the library of Giuglio Giustiniani, three
or four fragments of Egyptian paper of the same antiquity ;
and Mabillon mentions a manuscript of the Jewish anti¬
quities of Josephus translated into Latin, which seems to
have been written in the same century, and which was pre¬
served in the Ambrosian Library at Milan ; but he had not
himself seen the manuscripts. The same antiquary men¬
tions his having seen in the library of St Martin of Fours
the remains of an old Greek manuscript of Egyptian paper,
which appeared to him to be of the seventh century.
He also believes that the copy of St Mark’s gospel pre¬
served in the Register-house of Venice is written upon the
same paper; that it is the most ancient of any of the evan¬
gelical manuscripts; and that it may be supposed to have
been written, at the latest, in the fourth century. Accord¬
ing to the same antiquary, the Egyptian paper was used in
France, Italy, and other European countries, both for books
of learning and for public records ; and there still remain,
he adds, a great number of these in the archives of the
church at St Denis, at Corbey, in the Abbey de Grasse,
and in other convents. That it was also used by the Sy¬
rians, Arabians, and other Orientals, is clear from the cir¬
cumstance that papyri in these languages are still extant.
Silvestre, in his Palcsographic Universelle, gives specimens
of more than one.
It is probable that the invention of paper made of cot¬
ton, of which we shall afterwards treat, insensibly destroyed
the reputation and manufacture of the Egyptian paper ;
but it is still a question at what particular period the fabri¬
cation of the latter totally ceased. Eustathius, the learned
commentator on Homer {Ad. Horn. Odyss. xxi., p. 1913),
assures us that in his time it was no longer in use; but
Mabillon maintains that many of the papal bulls were writ¬
ten on papyrus in the eleventh century. Count Maffei,
however {Histor. Eiplomat. lib. ii.; Bihltoth. Ital. tom. ii.,
p. 251), is decidedly of opinion that Egyptian paper was not
in use in the fifth century. He considers all records writ¬
ten upon this paper, and dated subsequently to this period,
as not authentic; and the papal bulls mentioned by Mabil¬
lon, as well as the copy of St Mark’s gospel, were, accord¬
ing to him, written upon paper manufactured from cotton.
On the contrary, Pauly {Real. Encyclopadie der Klassi-
schen Wissenschaft, v. 1156) states that a copy of St Au¬
gustine’s Letters, which Montfaucon saw in the library of St
Germain des Pres, partly of papyrus, partly of parchment,
is not earlier than the sixth century. To reconcile in some
measure these contradictory accounts, it may be observed,
that on some particular occasions, and by some particular
persons, the Egyptian paper might have been employed for
several hundred years after it ceased to be in general use.
Before we pass from the ancient manufacture of the
papyrus paper, we may observe, that the plant has been
proposed as one of the most promising of the vegetable
materials for the manufacture of paper by the modern pro¬
cess. Chevalier Claussen in a paper on “ Plants which can
furnish Fibre for Paper Pulp,” appears to place it higher in
the scale, both as regards the per-centage of fibre and the
facility of bleaching, than most of the substances hitherto
experimented upon. He found it to contain 40 per cent,
of strong fibre, excellent for paper, and very easily bleached.
He appears to think, however, that the common indigenous
rush {Juncus effusus and other varieties) will supply an
P A P E E.
249
Paper, equally, if not more, available pulp for paper-manufac-
' ture.
Paper It is generally supposed that the invention of the paper
made from called Charta bombycina supplanted the Egyptian paper in
cotton. Greece. This paper is incomparably more lasting, and
better calculated for all the purposes of writing. It is not
precisely known at what period this art, which supposes a
great variety of previous experiments, was first reduced to
practice. The application of cotton to the purposes of
paper-making requires as much labour and ingenuity as the
use of linen rags ; and for this reason, if we would deter¬
mine the precise time when paper was made from cotton,
we should also be able to fix the invention of the art of
paper-making as it is presently practised in Europe. Mont-
faucon proves, by incontestible authorities, that paper made
from cotton was in use in 1100. This paper in the Greek
language is called xaPTrl Po/xfivKivos, or j3a[x/3aKLvo<s; for
although ftoyfivi is the Greek word for silk, yet in those
times it was applied, as well as fiaf±fia£, to cotton ; and
lienee the Italians call cotton bambaccio.
The most ancient manuscript of this paper which Mont-
faucon saw with a date, was that in the French king’s library,
written in the year 1050; but as the manuscripts without
date are infinitely more numerous than those which are
dated, and as some conjecture can be formed concerning
them from the manner of the writing, the same antiquary
believes that some of these were written in the tenth cen¬
tury. The researches of the same learned person serve to
show that this paper was discovered towards the end of the
ninth or beginning of the tenth century ; for before the
twelfth century it was commonly used throughout the east¬
ern empire, and even in Sicily, lloger, King of Sicily, says,
in a diploma written in 1145, that he had renewed on parch¬
ment a charter which had been written upon cotton paper
in the year 1100, and another which was dated in the year
1112. About the same time the Empress Irene, in the
statutes for regulating some religious houses at Constanti¬
nople, states that she had left three copies of these statutes,
two on parchment, and one on cotton paper. From that
period paper of this sort became still more in use through¬
out all the eastern empire ; and innumerable Greek manu¬
scripts are found written upon it, in all the great libraries.
This discovery happened at a time when there seems to
have been a great scarcity of parchment; for it was about
the same period that the Greeks erased the writings of Poly¬
bius, Diodorus of Sicily, and many valuable ancient au¬
thors, for the sake of the parchment. It was the invention
of this cotton paper which destroyed the manufacture of
the Egyptian article; for, if we may believe Eustathius,
who wrote towards the end of the twelfth century, the latter
had gone into disuse but a little before his time. We may
easily believe, however, that this new invention, although of
great advantage to mankind, was only introduced by degrees.
Paper from Paper of the interior bark of trees was made from the
leee8ark0fwhite Pe^'c^e or inner coat which is found in many trees
between the bark and the wood. The trees commonly in
use were the maple, the plane-tree, the elm, the beech, the
mulberry, and most commonly the linden-tree. The an¬
cients wrote upon this inner coat after they had separated
it from the bark, and beaten and dried it. Mabillon and
Montfaucon speaks frequently of manuscripts and diplomas
written upon paper made from bark ; and positively distin¬
guish it from the Egyptian paper, because it was thicker,
and composed of parts less adhesive.
I here are many palm trees in India and America to
which botanists have given the name papyraceous, because
the natives have written with bodkins either on the leaves
or on the bark. Such is the American palm, called tal by
the Indians ; and also the guajaraba of New Spain. Every
palm, the bark of which is smooth, and the leaves large and
thick, may be used for this purpose,
VOL. XVII,
Paper.
The art of making paper from vegetable matter reduced
to pulp was known in China long before it was practised
in Europe; and the Chinese have carried it to a high de- Chinese
gree of perfection. The fine paper of China is much softer paper,
and smoother than that of Europe; and these qualities are
admirably adapted to the pencil, which the Chinese use in
writing. Several kinds of their paper discover the greatest art
and ingenuity, and are applied with much advantage to many
purposes. These are capable of receiving the impression
of types; and Chinese paper is celebrated for affording the
most clear and delicate proof-impressions from copperplates.
The different sorts of paper vary in China according to
the materials of which they are composed, and the various
modes of manufacturing these materials. Every province
has its peculiar paper. That of Sechuen is made of linen
rags, as in Europe ; that of Fo-kien, of young bamboo; that
of the northern provinces, of the interior bark of the mul¬
berry ; that of the province of Kiang-nan, of the skin which
is found in the webs of the silk-worm ; and in the province
of Houquang, the tree chu or ko-chu furnishes the mate¬
rials of which paper is made.
The method of fabricating paper from the bark of dif¬
ferent trees is nearly the same with that which is followed
in the bamboo. To give an idea, therefore, of the manner
of manufacturing the interior barks of the mulberry, the
elm, and the cotton tree, it will be sufficient to confine our
observations to the bamboo.
The bamboo is a kind of cane or hollow reed, divided
by knots, but larger, more elastic, and more durable, than
any other reed. The whole substance of the bamboo, com¬
posed of filaments, and a great abundance of fibrous mate¬
rials, are employed in this operation. The shoots of one or
two years, nearly as thick as a man’s leg, are preferred.
They strip the leaves from the stem, cut them into pieces
of four or five feet in length, make them into parcels, and
put them into water to macerate. As soon as they are
softened, which generally happens in five days, they are
washed in pure water, put into a dry ditch, and covered
for some days with lime watered for tbe purpose of slack¬
ing. They are then washed carefully a second time, and
every one of the pieces is cut into filaments, which are ex¬
posed to the rays of the sun to dry and to bleach. After
this they are boiled in large kettles, and then reduced to
pulp in mortars of wood, by means of a hammer with a
long handle, which the workman moves with his foot.
The pulp being so far prepared, some shoots of a plant
named koteng are taken, and being steeped in water four
or five days, are reduced to an unctuous or glutinous sub¬
stance ; and when the workmen proceed to make the paper,
this is mixed with the pulp in certain fixed quantities, be¬
cause upon this mixture depends the quality of the paper.
When the extract from the koteng is mixed with pulp of
the bamboo, the whole mixture is beaten together in mor¬
tars till it become a thick and viscous liquor; when it is
poured into large tubs or reservoirs, so exactly framed as
that no part of the liquor can escape. After this the work¬
men plunge their forms into the liquor, and take out what
is sufficient for a sheet of paper, which, when formed and
consolidated, is at once dried and detached from the mould,
by being held a moment or two against a heated hollow
wall, the two fronts of which are smooth and extremely
white. At the extremity of this wall is placed a stove, the
pipes of which are carried in a circular manner throughout
the whole empty space. The sheets of paper are laid on the
surface, to which they adhere till a soft brush is applied to
them; and after they become dry, it is easy to distinguish
the side which received impressions from the brush from
that which adhered to the wall. By means of this stove
the Chinese dry their paper as fast as they make it; but
it is only in cold seasons, or in certain provinces, that they
find this expedient necessary.
2 i
250
PAPER.
•Paper. The Chinese paper must be dipped in a solution of
alum before it can take either ink or colour. 1 hey call
this operation faner, from the Chinese word fan, which
signifies alum. The manner of preparing this solution is
extremely simple. Six ounces of isinglass cut very small
are put into boiling water, and constantly stirred, that it
may dissolve equally. When the isinglass is wholly dis¬
solved in the water, twelve ounces of calcined alum are
thrown in, and also stirred till it is completely dissolved
and mixed with the isinglass. This composition is after¬
wards poured into a large deep basin, at the mouth of
which there is a little round piece of wood; and the extre¬
mity of every sheet of paper is then fixed in another piece
of wood, with a slit made to receive it. By means of this
apparatus the sheet of paper is plunged into the composition
of alum and isinglass; and when it has been fully pene¬
trated by the mixture, it is drawn out, and made to glide
over a little round piece of wood. rl he long piece of wood
which holds the sheet by one end, and keeps it from tear¬
ing, is afterwards suspended with it on a wall till it becomes
sufficiently dry. _
The Chinese give to the paper intended for different pur¬
poses different colours ; but we shall confine our observa¬
tions to the silver colour, which they impart to some kinds.
They take two scruples of paste made of cow’s hide, one
scruple of alum, and a pint of water, and boil the whole on
a slow fire till the water be evaporated. The sheets of
paper are then stretched on a smooth table, and covered
over with two or three layers of this paste. They after¬
wards take a certain quantity of talc, washed and boiled
in water, with a proportion of one third of alum. The
whole is then dried, reduced to a powder, passed through
a sieve, boiled a second time in water, dried in the sun, and
a,rain passed through the sieve. This powder is then spread
equally over the sheets of paper, prepared as above men¬
tioned ; and these are afterwards dried slowly in the shade.
The sheets of paper, covered in this manner with talc, are
laid upon a table, and rubbed with a little cotton, which
fixes a certain quantity of talc in the paper, and carries off
the surplus to be used on another occasion. By means of
this composition the Chinese draw all manner of figures on
their paper. . _ . . ,
The paper made from the bamboo is sufficiently white,
soft, and closely united, without the least inequality on the
surface to interrupt the motion of the pencil, or to occa¬
sion the rising of the materials which compose it. But
every kind of paper made from the bamboo or the bmk
of trees is more liable to crack than that made in Eu¬
rope ; besides, it is more susceptible of moisture, and is
sooner destroyed with dust and worms. To obviate this
last inconvenience, people are obliged frequently to beat
their books in China, and to expose them to the sun. it
may be observed, however, that the Chinese paper, em¬
ployed for various purposes in Europe, has been preserved
for a long time without receiving damage either from mois¬
ture or from insects. „ ,
Japanese According to Ktempfer, the bark of the
paper. sativa, or true paper-tree, is chiefly employee S
paper in Japan. Every year, after the fall of the leaves,
which happens in the tenth month, corresponding to our
December, the Japanese cut the young shoots of tins tree
into pieces of about three feet, and collect them into par
cels, which they boil in water containing a certain quan
tity of ashes. If the wood be dry, they take care to steep
it twenty-three hours in water before it is boiled.
parcels are kept in a close copper till the bark at the ex¬
tremity of the shoots is separated from the stem about half
an inch; they are then cooled, and the bark alone is fit for
making paper. They begin by a preparation, which con¬
sists of cleaning the bark, and separating the good from
what is bad. For this purpose they steep it in water
three or four hours; and as soon as it is softened they Paper,
scrape off with a knife whatever is blackish or green, and v—y—
at the same time separate the strong bark of a year’s growth
from the slender kind which cover the young shoots. The
first of these gives the whitest and best paper. If there be
any of the bark of more than a year’s growth, it is laid
aside for the coarsest kind.
After the bark has been culled and cleaned in this man¬
ner, it is boiled in a clear ley till the matter is of such con¬
sistency, that, being gently touched with the finger, it
draws off in the form of hairs, or like a collection of fibres.
During the time of boiling it is constantly stirred with a
strong reed, and the waste by evaporation is supplied from
time to time with additional quantities of the clear ley. To
make this ley, they put two pieces of wood across the
mouth of a tub, and cover them with straw, upon which is
laid a bed of ashes a little moistened; and when boiling
water is poured on the ashes, the salts contained in them
are carried down to the tub. I his is what is called a clear
ley. After the bark is in the condition which we have just
stated, it is washed with great care; for on this washing
depends in a great measure the quality of the paper. It
is put into a kind of sieve through which the water can
flow freely ; and great care is taken to turn it with the
hand till it be sufficiently diluted, and reduced to soft and
tender fibres. For the finest paper a second washing is
requisite, and a piece of cloth is used instead of a sieve.
When the bark is washed, it is laid upon a strong and
smooth table, and beaten with a kind of baton of hard
wood till it is reduced to a proper consistency. Indeed it
becomes so soft that it resembles paper steeped in water.
The bark prepared in this manner is put into a narrow tub,
with a glutinous extract from rice and the root oreni, which
is very viscous. These three substances are mixed to¬
gether, and stirred with the reed till they form a liquor of
uniform consistency. The composition is then poured into
vats similar to those used for filling the forms or moulds in
our paper-mills.
As soon as the sheets are made and detached from the
form, they are laid in a heap upon a table covered with a
double mat. A small chip of cane is placed between every
sheet, and this jutting out serves to distinguish the sheets,
and afterwards to raise them. Every one of the heaps is
covered with a plate or thin board of the exact size of the
paper. In proportion as the paper dries, or is able to bear
it without danger of being compressed into one mass, they
lay on additional weights. This pressure, being intended
to carry off any unnecessary moisture, is continued during
twenty-four hours, when the sheets are, by means of the
little pieces of reed, suspended to long plants in the open
air, till they are completely dried.
The extract from rice is made in an unvarnished earthen
pot, which is at first agitated gently, and then more briskly ;
new water is next poured in, and the whole is filtered
through a linen cloth. The finishing of the process is de¬
termined by the viscosity of the substance. The infusion
of the root oreni is prepared in this manner :—The root,
peeled and cut into small pieces, is infused in water for one
night, during w'hich time it communicates a viscosity suffi¬
cient for the purpose to which it is applied. ,
The Japanese paper is of such prodigious strength, that
the materials of which it is composed might be manufac¬
tured into ropes. T. here is sold at Serige, the capital city
of the province of that name, a kind of paper which is fit
for bed-hangings and wearing apparel, and so much re¬
sembles stuffs of wool and silk that it is often taken for them.
There are four trees used in Japan for the manufactory
of paper:—1. The true paper-tree, called in the Japanese
language kaadsi, and characterized by Ksempfer as papy¬
rus fructu mori celsee, sive morus sativa foliis urticce mortiue
cortice papifero; 2. The false paper-tree, called by the
PAPER. 251
Paper. Japanese hatsi or kadsire, and by Kaempfer papyrus pro-
i ^ ^ cumbens lactescens folio longo lanceata cortice chartaceo; 3.
The plant which the Japanese call oreni, and which is
named by Ksempfer malra radice viscosa Jlore ephemera
magno punico ; 4. The futokadsura, named by Kaempfer
frutex viscosus procumbens folio telephii vulgaris emulo
fructu racemoso. The description of these trees, as given
by Kaempfer, may be of service in leading botanists to dis¬
cover the European plants and shrubs adapted, like the
Japanese, for the fabrication of paper.
Before concluding this part of the subject, it may be
proper to given an idea of the attempts which have been
made to increase the original materials of paper in Europe.
A slight attention to the Chinese process in reducing the
bamboo to a paste, by a careful and ingenious analysis,
and to the method employed by the Japanese in separat¬
ing the principal fibres of the bark of the mulberry, will
show the absurdity not only of taking plants without any
kind of choice, but of giving them no preparation, except
that of pounding them with mallets. With a proper se¬
lection and right treatment, it appears probable that many
of the European plants might be used with great advan¬
tage in fabricating several kinds of paper. It is evident
that the materials used by the Chinese require less labour
and preparation than the stuff of linen rags. The sheets
of the Chinese paper are easily detached from the form;
they are laid in heaps, without the interposition of pieces
of woollen cloth; the superfluous water is immediately
discharged ; and they require not, as in Europe, the vi¬
gorous action of presses to unite the parts more closely
together.
pnpep Asbestos is a fibrous substance of little strength, and the
nvide from threads of which are easily broken. This substance has
asbestos, the peculiar property of supporting the action of fire with¬
out receiving any damage; and hence pieces of cloth and
garters made of it are incombustible. From the knowledge
of this property, paper has been made of asbestos. The
manner of fabricating this paper is described in the Philo¬
sophical Transactions (No. 166). A certain quantity of
asbestos is pounded in a stone mortar till it be reduced
to a substance like cotton. All the parts of earth or stone
remaining in the asbestos are then taken off by means
of a fine sieve, and it is formed into sheets of paper by an
ordinary paper-mill. Mixing it with water reduces it to
stuff; but as it is heavier than that made from linen rags,
it requires to be continually stirred when it is taken up
with the frames. The only excellence of this paper is,
that the writing disappears when cast into the fire. But
as it is of a slender consistency, and easily torn, it is rather
an object of curiosity than of use.
Paper This paper is manufactured throughout all Europe, in
made from tiie East Indies, and in America, from linen and cotton
rag8- rags collected in the cities and in the country. Paper
made of linen rags was utterly unknown to the ancients.
The libri lintei mentioned by Livy (i. lib. iv.), Pliny (lib.
xiii., c. xi.), and other Roman writers, are demonstrated by
Guilandin, in his Commentary on Pliny, to have been writ¬
ten on pieces of linen cloth, or canvas prepared in the man¬
ner of painters. But it is not sufficient to be certain that
paper made from linen is a modern invention ; it is necessary
to know by what nation, and at what period, it was dis¬
covered. Polydore Virgil (Z)e Inventoribus Rerum, c. ii.,
c. yiii.) confesses his ignorance of this circumstance. Scaliger,
without any kind of proof, gives the credit of the invention
to the Germans; and Maffei claims it for the Italians. Other
writers ascribe this honour to some Greek refugees at
Basil, to whom the manner of making paper from cotton
in their own country had suggested the idea. Duhalde
is persuaded that Europe derived this invention from the Paper.
Chinese, who, in several provinces, make paper of rags
nearly in the same manner as we now do. But this in¬
vention was practised by the Europeans before they had
any communication with China, and before the taking of
Constantinople, at which time the Greek refugees were
supposed to have retired to Basil. The precise date of
this discovery in Europe is not exactly known. Mabillon
believes that it took place in the twelfth century, and cites
a passage of Pierre de Clugny, born in the year 1100, to
prove it. The books which we read every day, says De
Clugny, in his treatise against the Jews, are written on
sheeps’ and calves’ skins, or on oriental plants, or, finally,
ex rasuns veterum pannorum. If these last words signify
paper such as we use, there were books of it in the twelfth
century. But this citation is the more to be suspected, as
Montfaucon himself, after the minutest search in France
and Italy, could find no book on this paper anterior to the
death of St Louis, in the year 1270.
The epoch of this invention was not approximately de¬
termined till 1762, when M. Mierman proposed a reward
to the person who could procure the most ancient manu¬
script written on this kind of paper. The collection of all
the memoirs sent to him, along with the manuscripts, was
published at the Hague in 1767; and it appeared that this
paper had been used in Europe before the year 1300.
In 1782 the Abbate Andrez published a work, entitled
DelV Origine, Progressi, e Stato attuale d'ogni Lettera-
tura, in which he speaks of the discovery of many kinds of
paper, and particularly of that made of rags. The same
person maintains, that paper made from silk was very an¬
ciently fabricated in China, and in the eastern parts of
Asia; and that the art of making this paper was brought
from China to Persia about the year 652, and to Mecca in
706. The Arabs substituted cotton, the commodity of
their own country, instead of silk, or rather of bamboo.
This cotton paper was carried into Africa and Spain by the
Arabs. The Spaniards, from the quantity of linen to be
found in the kingdom of Valencia, seem first to have
adopted the idea of using linen rags; and hence the most
ancient paper of this kind is that of Valencia and Catalonia.
From Spain it passed into France,* as may be gathered
from a letter of Joinville to St Louis about the year 1260,
and it is discovered to have been made in Germany in
1312. The first paper-mill in England was erected at
Hartford by a German named Spielman in 1588, who was
knighted by Queen Elizabeth. In consequence of paper
made from cotton being imported from the Levant, paper
made from linen was introduced much later into Italy than
into France, Germany, and England.1
This manufacture owes, in a great degree, the prodigious Art of
advancement which it has attained in Great Britain during papcr-mak-
the last thirty years, to the ingenious and successful appli- ing in ^u'
cation of machinery. Many ot its formerly tedious and roPe*
uncertain processes are thereby greatly simplified and
abridged, a remarkable instance of which is the improve¬
ment of cylinder-drying. The drying process used for¬
merly to be effected mainly by the agency of the atmo¬
sphere; but, since the paper-machine was perfected, the
paper is now made to pass in the web, as it is formed, over
the surface of a certain number of metal cylinders heated
internally by steam, and is dried off in less than two
minutes, whereas it was formerly, and especially during
winter, kept for weeks or months in a damp state, or ex¬
posed to severe frost, to its certain and great damage.
The manufacture naturally divides itself into that which
is carried on in hand-mills, where the formation of the
sheet, as formerly, is still performed by manual labour;
1 See the work of Abbate Andrez, printed at Parma, 1782, in 8vo; and Mierman's Collection, published at the Hague.
P A P E E.
252
Ptiper. am] t]ia(. which is carried on by machine-mills, where the
'v'—'paper is formed upon the machine wire-cloth in one con¬
tinuous web. To give a distinct view of the subject, it will
be necessary to describe all the important parts of the opera¬
tion in their order, most of which are common to both
modes of manufacture.
Materials. The materials principally used in Great Britain are old
linen and cotton rags, which are collected in great quantity
at home. A large quantity of rags, chiefly linen, is annu¬
ally imported from the different countries whence the ex¬
portation is not prohibited,—viz, Germany, Italy, Sicily,
and Hungary. For many years past a very abundant
supply of material, formerly considered as totally worthless,
has been obtained from the cotton factories in Manchester
and its neighbourhood. We allude to the cotton waste
and sweepings of the cotton-mills, which, by being devilled,
that is, cleaned by a machine used in the cotton manu¬
facture called a devil or skreening machine, and afterwards
boiled in alkaline solution, and bleached, are capable of be¬
ing converted into very tolerable printing paper.
The selection of the rags, if it should not have been
performed before they are brought to the paper-mill, is
there performed by women sorting them into their various
qualities, which facilitates the work of the rag-cutters, whose
business it also is to sort the rags into their different kinds
as they cut them. The rags are then assigned, in bags or
bales of from two to five hundredweights each, to the wo¬
men in the rag-house. These women stand at small tables
of about 3 feet square, the upper surface being composed
of iron wire cloth, the meshes of which are about one-fourth
of an inch square, whilst underneath there is a drawer. A
knife or short scythe is firmly fixed in the centre of the
table, in nearly a vertical position, and the woman is placed
so as to have the back of it standing next her, and with a
large wooden box divided into several compartments upon
the floor, on her right hand. She then opens and ex¬
amines the seams and patches of the rags, and removes the
dirt, as well as any other noxious substances, such as pins,
needles, buttons, silk, and worsted pieces, &c., that may be
attached, which would be hurtful to the machinery, as well
as to the quality of the paper. She cuts the rags by draw¬
ing them to her across the edge of the scythe, into pieces
not exceeding 4 inches square, which are sorted and thrown
into the boxes above referred to, according to their different
qualities. A great deal of the dirt, sand, &c., passes through
the wire-cloth into the drawer of the table, which is opened
and cleaned out at convenience.
The rags, after being thus cut and sorted, are again care¬
fully examined by women called overlookers or overhaulers,
who have the charge of seeing that the work is properly
performed, and that none of the noxious substances above
referred to are allowed to remain in the rags. Much of the
beauty and cleanness of the paper, when finished, depend
upon the attention bestowed on this department; for any
dirty or noxious substances, when once comminuted by the
trituration of the stuff \x\Xo an endless number of small par¬
ticles scattered over the surface of the paper, are of course
wholly fixed and irremoveable.
Several machines have been invented for the purpose of
cutting rags, and thereby abridging the labour and expense.
By means of rollers they are carried round a large cylindrical
drum, on which knives, placed diagonally, revolve with con¬
siderable velocity and power, and cut the rags into small
diamond-shaped pieces. But such machines have hitherto
been found of comparatively little service, as of course they
cannot perform the work of selection, or the removal of the
impurities from the material, which can only be done by
careful and close examination at the time of cutting the
rags, and with the advantage of using the sharp knife to cut
or scrape off the injurious portion. These rag-cutting ma¬
chines, moreover, have been apt to cut the rags into very
unequal sizes, leaving one portion much too large, and Paper,
another portion much too reduced, for the due trituration
of them afterwards.
After the rags have been cut and carefully examined,
they are inclosed in a cylinder called a duster, the whole
periphery of which is composed of iron-wire cloth ; it mea¬
sures about 4|- feet in diameter, and is about 5 feet in
length ; and a part of the circumference opens on hinges to
admit the rags, from one to two hundredweights of which
are generally inclosed at a time, and remain in motion for
half an hour or an hour. On the axis in the interior of the
cylinder there are a number of spokes, each about 1 foot
long, fixed transversely, which pass through the rags when
they are in rapid motion, and toss them about so as to make
them part the more readily with the dust, sand, and dirt,
which may still adhere to them. For the coarser and dirtier
descriptions of rags this machine is used with good effect
before they are cut, and renders the operation of cutting the
rags less accompanied with dust, &c., and therefore less un¬
pleasant and unwholesome to those engaged in it. A
great recent improvement which we have to notice is that
of the duster or willow, as it is termed, being now open at
both ends. These willows are of a much larger size than
formerly, and are placed on a slope. The rags, in order to
be freed from dust and dirt, are placed upon a revolving
travelling felt, from which they are dropt into one end of
the willow referred to, and, after being carried partially
round it for some time, are dropt out at the lower end of
the willow upon another travelling felt, whence they are
conveyed away for use, or tor being stored up, upon another
travelling felt.
The women engaged in the rag-house cut on an average
about three quarters of a hundredweight of home rags
(that is, rags collected in Scotland and England) in the day
of ten working hours, and about one hundredweight and a
half of foreign rags in the same time. This arises from the
latter being of a much heavier and stronger substance,
generally speaking, than the former. Their wages amount
to from lOd. to Is. per day on an average. The nature of
their employment, though it subjects them to the inhala¬
tion of dust and fibrous matter floating through the air,
does not seem at all to injure their health, nor to warrant
the adoption of what medical men have sometimes volun¬
teered to recommend, that of breathing through sponges
placed over their nose and mouth, to prevent injury to their
chests and lungs.
The next process is that of boiling the rags in an alka¬
line ley, which is rendered proportionally strong, according
to the lowness of the quality of the rags and the quantity
of the colouring matter to be discharged. In some mills
large open-mouthed coppers, with fire under them, are used
for this purpose; in others, where there is a full command
of steam, the rags are boiled in large square iron boxes,
capable of containing ten or twelve hundredweights at a
time. Part of the lid is made to move on hinges, or with
a rope and pulley and balance-weight, for the purpose of
the rags being placed in and taken out of the vessel; and
before the steam is allowed to pass into the chest, the lid
is secured by being screwed tightly down, and the joints of
it formed by oakum to prevent the blowing of the steam.
The steam passes through an upright iron pipe of about an
inch and a half in diameter, through the centre of the lid
down to the bottom of the chest, whence it diverges through
a number of pipes or radii towards the sides of the chest.
There is a false bottom, also of iron, which is in moveable
pieces, about 6 inches above the real bottom; it is per¬
forated by a number of small holes, to allow the boiling ley
to pass constantly through the mass. (A sketch of a chest of
this description will be found under the article Bleaching).
The boiling process, however, having been unequally and
imperfectly performed, from the want of agitation through-
PAPER.
253
out the mass of material in the vessel, revolving boilers of
a cylindrical shape have been introduced, made of strong
wrought-iron. Patents for these have been taken out
by Messrs Donkin and Fourdrinier, both of London, and
by Mr Robertson, near Edinburgh, by which the rags are
much more completely boiled, and with considerable eco¬
nomy in the amount of alkali used, and in the labour em¬
ployed.
The quantity of alkaline matter varies from four to ten
pounds of carbonate of soda to each hundredweight of rags,
according to their quality, with about one-third part addi¬
tional of quicklime, to render the ley caustic. The boiling
is carried on upon an average for about eight hours, after
which the rags are cooled as gradually as possible, since the
process of cooling, if rapidly carried on, tends to fix some
of the black colouring matter again in the rags. Some
makers use only lime in the boiling process, whereas others
use pot and pearl ashes to a considerable extent; but we
believe that a ley composed of soda and a portion of quick¬
lime is most commonly employed.
The rags, after being thoroughly cooled, to which a
gentle flow of cold spring-water let into the boiler materially
contributes, are laid aside in large wooden chests for use, or
at once conveyed in boxes on wheels into the engine-house,
there to be reduced to pulp. As this is one of the most
important processes, and requires the whole power of the mill,
we shall explain it, with reference to fig. 1. Figs. 1 and 2
rig. i.
represent a plan and elevation of a paper-mill for four
engines, E.E. W is the water-wheel, on which there are
rig. 2.
segments, S, of cast iron, which work into a main pinion P.
1 his pinion is fixed on the same lying-shaft on which the
spur or fly-wheels F are also hung. The motion is thus
brought up to the proper speed, it being necessary that the
pinions /?, p, p, of the engines, and the engine-cylinders c, c,
should perform about 150 revolutions per minute.
The engines, which are to be understood as large troughs
of an elliptical form, with a division d, d, running nearly
the length that intervenes between the foci of these ima- Paper,
ginary ellipses, consist of two sorts, according to the pur-
poses to which they are applied, viz., washing and beat¬
ing engines,—the former being designed for washing and
rubbing out the rags, and the latter for shortening or beat¬
ing down the fibres, after the washing and bleaching pro¬
cesses have been performed.
These engines used to be made of strong wood, and
lined inside with lead or copper; but for many years past
they have been very successfully cast in iron, all in one
piece, including the partition or mid-feather, as it i» termed,
although, from their awkward shape, it may be easily
conceived to be rather a difficult matter to insure a good
casting of such a mass. They measure about 10 feet in
length, 4^ feet in width, and about 2£ feet in depth, bo-
ing dimensions sufficient to contain about 112 or 120 lbs.
of rags, but they are frequently capable of containing 2
cwts. From the rapid motion and weight of the machinery,
and great friction necessary to triturate the stuff, it is evi¬
dent that the solid filing of the engines is a matter of ex¬
treme importance. It is usual, therefore, to build, from a
solid foundation, a substantial mass of ashler-work (fig. 3,
A A), of the size of
each engine, for it
to rest upon.
The cylinders in
the engines, techni¬
cally called the rolls,
and by the revolu¬
tion of which the
rags are ground into
pulp, are formed in
general of solid wood.
Elm is most gener¬
ally used for this
purpose. They are
commonly about 2
feet in diameter, and 1
2 feet in length. •—
Round the circum¬
ference are firmly fixed bars of steel parallel to the axis or
spindle, in bunches of two together in the washing-engine,
and three in the beating-engine, generally about eighteen
or nineteen several bunches, and making therefore in all
about thirty-eight bars in the washing-engine cylinder, and
fifty-four or fifty-seven in that of the beating-engine.
These steel bars are sunk and wedged into the peri¬
phery of the cylinder, and are, moreover, firmly fastened
by means of hoops which are fitted into a groove in
the ends of the cylinder, and, passing through the bars
at a place cut out in them for that purpose, secure them
firmly in their place.
Under the cylinder is what is called a plate (see fig. 3) ;
that is, a number of steel bars, which lie fixed in a place
provided in the trough 6 for them. Ihey are accurately
fitted, so as to form a segment of the same circle as the
cylinder itself. The number of bars varies according to
the kind of work performed at the mill; but in white-paper
mills, in the washing-engines the plate has generally from
twelve to eighteen bars, and in the beaters from twenty to
twenty-four. The breadth of the plate is almost univer¬
sally the same everywhere, namely, from 5£ to 6 inches.
A plate 6 inches broad is found to require quite as much
power, from the increased friction, as can in general be
spared.
The thickness of the bars in the washing-engine plate is
generally from about three-eighths to half an inch ; and in
the beating-engine from about three-sixteenths to one-fourth
of an inch. In the latter they are made up with wooden
or copper dividers, so as to afford the necessary thickness;
in all, of five and a-half or six inches. The thickness of
254
Paper.
PAPER.
the cylinder and plate-bars ought to be about the same
proportion to each other ; they are bevelled or tapeied oft
about an inch or an inch and a-hall from the edge, like a
wedge ; and those in the washing-engine being intended
for opening and rubbing out the cloth and duly washing it,
it is the opinion of the writer of this article that they
ouo-ht not to be under the thickness of one-eighth of an
inch, nor in the beaters under that of a shilling at the
ed<re. after being ground—otherwise, by the too rapid con¬
version into pulp, the strength of the fibre would be mate¬
rially injured. ,
The rags having now been boiled and brought into tne
engine-house, the engineer fills the engine or trough about
half-full of water, till the bars of the cylinder, which pro¬
ject fully an inch from the wood, get hold of the water, and
begin to turn it round. He then begins to put the rags
into the engine, and spreads them with his hand. It wi 1
be seen from fig. 2 that the spindle s, which goes through
the cylinder, is supported in its bearing upon an iron lever,
called a lighter, 1. A screw h is attached to it, and by
moving that screw, the cylinder can be raised about three
inches above, or depressed so as to come into contact with
the bars of the plate.
Behind the cylinder it will be found that there is a rise
(fig. 4, r) in the trough,
which, on the side next
the cylinder, forms a seg¬
ment of a circle similar to
that of the cylinder, and
within an inch or two from
it, and then descends by a Fie-4-
rapid declivity to the natural bottom. This rise is called
by the workmen the backfall, from the rags falling down
upon it. The cylinder is always, when the mill is at work,
inclosed in a wooden cover (fig. 5). The cover of the
washing-engine used
to have four slits or
grooves cut down
through the top of it,
two on each side of
the cylinder. The two
slits w next the cylin¬
der were made for a
Fig. 5.
board of wood, which could be put in or removed at
pleasure, being guided by grooves in the inside of the
cover. The other two slits c contained two frames of very
fine copper wire-cloth, having about 4900 holes in every
square inch. These wire-cloth frames were generally fixed,
being only taken out when any repairs were requisite.
The washing process was formerly carried on by the
rao-s or pulp being driven violently by the roller or cylinder
in its rapid revolutions upon the wire-cloth frames referred
to ; but as this was found to be attended with a great waste
of fibre, this plan has been very generally abandoned and
the dirty water now passes through the periphery of hollow
cylinders covered with fine wire-cloth, which revolve slowly
in the pulp, and which water is raised by inverted buckets
inside of the cylinder, and conveyed away by a tube m the
centre of the axis. . ,
The rags being now filled into the engine, the cylinder,
by means of elevating the screw (fig. 3, h) is raised as hig i
as it will go, as there is thereby room for a greater quan¬
tity of water being carried round with the dirty rags. In
the bottom of the trough (fig. 1) there is a false bottom/,
which is punctured through by a number of small holes,
and which communicates with a cock. This cock, when
kept fully open for the first twenty or thirty minutes, has the
effect, in consequence of the pressure of water and suction,
of carrying off a great deal of dirty water, as well as sand
and loose particles from the rags, which have escaped
former cleaning operations.
When the engine has been once filled with rags and Paper,
water, of which there must be a large supply constantly
flowing, the cylinder, by its projecting bars, working like
the paddles of a steam-boat, draws them in. It then
throws them up to the top of the backfall foimeily
alluded to, and the rags or pulp descend the declivity. By
this means a regular progressive motion of the stuff is pro¬
duced, which comes again and again under the action of
the cylinder bars and plate. The cylinder is gradually
depressed as the washing goes on, till it comes as neatly as
possible in contact with the plate when at its lowest point.
The plates are not placed directly in line with the bars of
the cylinder, but lie at an angle of about five degrees. 1 his
prevents the one from being locked against the other,
should the cylinder, from any cause, be too much depressed;
and it is moreover necessary that they should be in that
position, to promote the reducing of the rags to pulp, on
somewhat of the same principle with the cutting process,
performed by a pair of scissors—the one blade forming an
angle with the other.
To make good paper, a great deal depends upon the
state of the engines, bars, and plates. If these be not in
proper working order, well fitted together, and adapted
for the description of material worked, it is impossible that
any subsequent care can remedy the mischief done in the
engine-house. It is much to be regretted that the great
demand which has prevailed for paper for many years past
has induced manufacturers generally to sacrifice quality
to quantity, by hurrying the process, which impairs the
strength of the fibre, and injures the texture of the paper.
If the bars and plates of the washing-engines are kept so
sharp as to cut the rags, nothing can be conceived more
injurious. Every paper-maker knows that the stuff is ren¬
dered mellow and soft by being rubbed out by blunt bars
and plates. The longer the time occupied by this opera¬
tion the more water will the stuff incorporated with it hold
when it is worked into paper, and the less easily will the
water drain off from it, which is always a sign of strong
paper. Stuff, on the other hand, which has been quickly
prepared by sharp tackle, never has the water properly
beaten up with it; but the fibres, having been cut down,
as it were, are held in suspension in the water merely, and
the paper made from such stuff is always weak, flimsy, and
perishable. _ .
An abundant supply of fine water is very essential to
produce paper of fine quality. When the rags are first
begun to be washed, the engine consumes about a hogs¬
head per minute for the first half-hour; but this quantity
is soon diminished by the rags being opened up into pulp,
and thereby taking up more room for themselves in the
engine, till, towards the conclusion of the washing process,
the water which passes through the washing-cylinders does
not amount probably to one-twentieth part of that quantity.
In reducing the rags to half-stuff, about three or four
hours have been hitherto considered as necessary for fine
papers ; but, from the desire to produce a large quantity,
it is the practice of most machine-mills now to do this in
half the time, to the great injury of the fabric. The power
required to keep each of the cylinders moving the stuff, when
pretty near to the plate, is equal to about seven horses.
The rags having undergone the process of being washed
and broken in—that is, rubbed into halt-prepaied pulp, the
engineer shuts off the supply of washing water, and then,
by means of an iron hook two feet and a half long, which
he inserts into the cavity of a conical brass valve, fitted
into a pipe at the bottom of the trough or engine, raises
that valve, and the half stuff then flows through a pipe of
about six inches diameter, into the bleaching-house, situ¬
ated in the under story, where it is received into a drain¬
ing-chest of pretty large size, and suffered to part with the
water, which flows through a number of very small holes
P A P E 11.
255
Piper.
bored in the wood. As soon as the stuff is emptied, the
washing-engine is again filled with rags as before.
The bleaching process is carried on in some mills by the
rags being subjected in close chambers to the action of
chlorine, which is produced in leaden retorts, from sulp iu-
ric acid, sea-salt, and the black oxide of manganese, and
for an account of preparing which, we refer to the article
Bleaching. In a great many mills, however, where this
mode was long carried on, it has been entirely abandoned,
and the practice of steeping the rags in a solution of chlo¬
ride of lime has been very generally substituted, ihe
advantage, in the latter process, consists in the stuff not
being so much injured in the fabric as if exposed to the
chlorine itself; and although the whitening^effect may not
be produced so speedily or completely as if done by the
action of the gas, yet, by giving the steeping process plenty
of time, that is nearly compensated for, and there is much
less waste in the latter than in the former process.
The bleaching-house for steeping consists of a long
apartment, regulated in extent by the number of chests
necessary for the carrying out of the works. A passage of
three or four feet wide goes down the middle, and on each
side are arranged stone chests, about three feet deep, and
containing about fifty-seven cubic feet. In each there is a
false bottom, which has been made of many different mate¬
rials—viz., lead, copper, zinc, wood, stone, slate, &c., none
of which is so effective as could be wished in resisting the
action of the chlorine, and which therefore require frequent
renovation. The false bottom is pierced through with a
number of very small holes; and under the false bottom
there is a small pipe, into which a valve is fitted, and at¬
tached by a wire reaching up to the top of each chest, by
pulling which the liquid is allowed to escape at pleasure
into a large tank extending under the whole of the chests.
In this tank is sunk a pipe, with a pump, for the sake of
raising the liquor. Although this solution be now very
weak, yet it is much better for the purpose than pure water.
The half-stuff having come down from the washing-engine
into the draining-chest, which is situated about three feet
higher than the level of the stone bleaching chests, and
being now freed by drainage of a great part of the water
with which it descended from the engine, a part of one of
the sides of the draining-chest, being a kind of door on
hinges, is opened, and the stuff is promptly raked into an
iron square box lined with wood or metal, which moves on
a railroad fixed along the passage above referred to, and is
carried to each of the chests in succession, as they are
ready to receive the stuff. About one hundredweight of
rags is laid in each chest, and receives upon an average
from six to eight pounds of Tennant’s strong saturated
chloride of lime, according to the quality of the rags, in
solution with about twelve gallons of water ; and the chest
is then nearly filled up with the weak liquor pumped from
the tank. Great care is necessary to keep the stuff fre¬
quently stirred, otherwise the whitening throughout would
not go on regularly. A great saving of time and labour
is derived by the process of stirring being performed in
what is called a “ poaching-engine that is, a trough or
engine with a cylinder in it, being provided to contain the
rags after being broken in, into which the necessary quan¬
tity of the chloride of lime is introduced, and the contents
thoroughly agitated by the action of the cylinder, as above
described in the case of the washing-engine. It is always
found that, from the effect of the air and light, the upper
stratum of the stuff in the chests becomes white, whilst
what is under is for some time but little affected.
The stuff is allowed to remain in the steep for twenty-
four hours before the liquor is allowed to drain off, and of
course there must be as many chests as there are hundred¬
weights of stuff prepared in the twenty-four hours. But it
is found not to have reached its maximum of whiteness even
in twenty-four hours, for the stuff which has been set to Paper,
steep on Saturday, is always found on the Monday morn-
ings to be of a somewhat purer white than on any other
day.
After the time for steeping has expired, the stuff is again
lifted into the iron box formerly mentioned, which, being
full of stuff, is moved on the railway till it is placed on a
moving sole of a Bramah hydraulic press, which is situated
in a convenient part of the passage; and the water being
injected by pumps moved by the machinery of the mill into
the piston of about ten inches diameter, causes by its great
pressure the iron sole, with the wet bleached stuff upon it,
to rise against a wooden 44 ram,” as it is called, of the exact
size of the box containing the stuff. What remains of the
chloride in solution, as the ram enters into the box, is thus
gradually pressed out, and flows into the tank formerly
mentioned as situated under the chests. The ram enters
into the box about one-half of its whole depth, and it will
be seen by the annexed table what space is occupied by a
hundredweight of the material in its raw and manufactured
state at different stages of the process.
One hundredweight of linen rags, cut but not 1 cuhic feet.
pressed, occupies a space of about J
When in the washing-engine in process of j ^
washing     J
When drained of all the water that will flow | 25|
When pressed by the ram   7 J „
The object of pressing out the liquid weak chloride of
lime is to lighten the labour of raising the stuff to the
higher story of the engine-house again, and also to render
the process of washing it out the more easy ; for it is most
essential that none of the bleaching matter should be left
in it.
This washing is performed in precisely the same way as
that of the rags, and goes on for about an hour, after
which, in the same engine, the pure water being shut off,
the pulp is reduced considerably in length of fibre in the
same engine with tackle, which tends to soften the
stuff, and make it mellow. The engine which is specially
set apart to wash out the remains of the chlorine, and to
soften the stuff, is sometimes called the intermediate en¬
gine ; the stuff being now half way between rags and paper,
and called half-stuff'.
The stuff is then let down to the beating-engine by
lifting a valve in the pipe, and it is then beaten down by
tackle considerably sharper than that in the washing-en¬
gines. The stuff is here, as it were, combed out into fibres
of perhaps one-twentieth of an inch in length, and this
operation for fine paper ought to take from four to five
hours; and, from the friction between the cylinder bars
and those of the plate, the stuff ought to become mode¬
rately warm. It is now in a condition to be made into
paper; and, by a valve being lifted, it flows out of the
beating-engine by a pipe which conducts it to a large stone
or wooden reservoir, called a chest, in the vat-house or
machine-house. . „ . ...
The apparatus for the formation of the paper in single Making
sheets at a time by the hand consists of—
1 A chest for receiving the prepared stuff, and which, the hand,
if there be enough of fall in the situation, it is extremely
desirable to have situated about three feet higher than the
vat, in order that the stuff may flow from the chest to the
vat gradually as it is worked into paper, otherwise it must
be lifted by a lad at intervals by means of a copper pan.
2. The vat, which is a stone vessel about six feet square,
and about four deep. It is agitated by a hog or little wheel
about twelve inches in diameter, which revolves through
the whole length of it, to keep the stuff constantly stirred;
for the fibrous particles, being heavier than water, would
otherwise sink.
3. The moulds or frames, of which a pair is required, so
that when the vatman is dipping the one into the stuff, the
coucher may be placing the sheet on a layer of felts, of which
from four to eight quires, according to the size of the paper,
form a post,—that is, the whole quantity which is brought
under the press at one time. The vatman stands at one
side of the vat, and the coucher at the far corner of the side,
on the vatman’s left hand, and facing him; and between
them is a narrow ledge of wood, on which the mould is sent
from the vatman to the coucher. The vatman always holds
in his hand a frame of wood called a deckle, which is about
an inch broad, and is made to fit exactly all round the
edge of the mould, for the purpose of forming a clean and
not a ragged edge to the sheet: it is this which is called
the water-edge, and which is so easily distinguishable from
any species of edge that can be otherwise produced, as
to have been generally adopted in paper used for bank¬
notes. This description of paper is, in consequence, gene¬
rally made on moulds of the size of the note, that it may
possess the water edge, for the purpose of rendering forgery
more difficult.
The moulds are made of brass wires or wire-cloth fixed
upon a wooden frame, which is generally made ot maho¬
gany. A number of wooden ribs are fixed across the
frame, placed at intervals of about one inch from each
other, for the wires or wire-cloth to rest on. When wires
only are used, these are laid longitudinally along the frame
and across the wooden ribs, and interlaced with a wire
somewhat thicker than the wires running lengthways,
which is placed on the top of each rib. Paper made on
such moulds is called laid, in contradistinction to what
is made off the vioven wire-cloth, and which is therefore
called wove paper.
When the vatman dips the mould into the vat with the
deckle upon it, he takes up a quantity of the pulp, which
has been previously mixed with a great deal of water, and
well agitated by the hog: he then throws off a great por¬
tion of the stuff and water over the edge of the mould
farthest from him, and bringing the mould to a horizontal
position, shakes it to and from him, which connects the
fibres together so as to form one uniform fabric, and
shakes out the water. To attain this method perfectly
requires a long apprenticeship, simple as it may seem.
As soon as the pulp is no longer in a liquid state on the
mould, the workman raises the deckle with his fore-fingers
and thumbs from off the mould, and with his remaining
fingers shoves the mould along the ledge before referred
to to the coucher, who is ready to receive it, and who
places it in an inclined position upon a small wooden
curved stay, on which it reposes for a few seconds, that
the water may be further drained from the newly-formed
sheet. The coucher is in the meantime pitching a felt or
piece of blanketing upon a wooden plank of the proper
size, and then takes the mould and presses the face of it
upon the felt, which receives and takes off the sheet^ of
paper from the mould, still in a very wet state, dhe
mould being now freed of the sheet formed upon it, is
pushed back along a wooden bridge, as it is called, which
is joined to the ledge, and is placed at right angles to it.
The bridge crosses the vat in front of the vatman, and the
mould lies on it ready to be used by him, whilst the other
mould is employed by the coucher. The process is con¬
tinued till all the felts, being placed above each other with
a sheet between each, are employed, which takes about
half an hour. A heavy plank is then placed on the top of
the post, as this quantity is called, and the whole is drawn
in on a railroad, or rollers, under a press which is contigu¬
ous, and where the water is squeezed out, either by means
of a screw, or by a Bramah hydraulic press. The paper,
when it comes out of this press, is so coherent as to admit
of being handled, and the sheets are accordingly laid to¬
gether in a pack by themselves, the felts being placed on
a wooden deal between the person who takes off the sheets
from the felts, called the layman, and the coucher, who
immediately, with the aid of the vatman, begins a new
post. The water-mark is produced by wires in the shape
of the letter or design being raised upon the surface of the
mould.
After a number of packs have been made, they are put
into another press, where they are made to sweat by pres¬
sure ; that is, just to part with a small quantity of water,
which comes from them in single drops. If the pressing
be carried on too quickly or too long, the paper would be
damaged by the sheets adhering to each other, and peeling
or tearing when attempted afterwards to be separated.
The paper is then parted sheet by sheet, so as to be
enabled to undergo another pressure before it goes to the
loft to be dried. In fine writing paper, it is the practice
to part the paper twice over, pressing between each part¬
ing. This is to make the sheets lose the marks of the felts,
and to get the paper as dry as possible before it goes to the
loft.
The lofts consist of a number of spaces filled with tnhbles,
that is, hair ropes fixed into spars of wood, the ends of
which are made to slide up and down the upright posts of
wood, one of which is fixed at the corner of each space.
The paper is hung up in spurs, as they are called, of five
or six sheets thick, upon the ropes, by the help of a
wooden cross, shaped somewhat like the letter T. 1 he
workman holds this cross at the lower part of it, and the
top of the cross must be as long as the width of the sheet.
The dry-worker then, with his left fore-finger and thumb,
pinches the corner of the hard-pressed pack, which has
undergone one, two, or, if fine writing paper, three hard-
pressings since it left the felts. He then partially raises
by that corner the spur of five or six sheets, and with the
cross gently catches the paper, which he slips over the
hair-line, and leaves it there suspended. The pack is
placed on a table which moves on small wheels, and against
which the workman stands, and which he can push or draw
with ease to any part of the loft that he pleases. W hen
the tribble lines are all full, he pushes up the sides or spars
upwards along the upright posts, which are bored all the
way up for small pins of wood that support the tribbles.
About eight or nine tribbles fill a room, as it is called,—that
is, each space. The sides of the lofts are boarded with
spars of wood placed vertically, about four inches wide and
four separate. Inside of these are shutters made exactly
similar, but fixed on wheels which move in a groove, so as
to shut in the loft entirely or partially, or leave it open,
according to the state of the weather. Many lofts have, in
addition, woollen curtains within the shutters, which, with
the addition of the heat derived from steam carried round
the loft in pipes, are most serviceable for drying, when the
state of the weather renders it impracticable to dry by the
air. W^hen the weather is favourable, the paper, before
being sized, may be dried in twenty-four hours. After
being sized, it ought not to be dried in less than three or
four days, as by too rapid drying the size has a great ten¬
dency to fly from the paper; and therefore, when hung up
after undergoing this process, the shutters are, in general,
immediately closed upon it, so as to make the drying as
gradual as possible.
The paper up to this point is quite bibulous, and there¬
fore unfit to bear the ink. It is therefore transferred,
when dry, to the sizing-house. The size is made from
the refuse of tan-yards, called scrolls, consisting of the
parings of skins, pates, ears, &c.; which materials range in
price, according to quality, from about L.40 to L.70 per ton
when thoroughly dried. The scrolls, as these pieces are
called, are, after being made as clean as possible, im¬
mersed in water, which ought not to exceed in temperature
PAPER.
257
Paper.
130 degrees, being sufficient to dissolve the gelatine, other¬
wise the gelatine is of a darker or browner colour. Ihe
o-elatine is then gradually and carefully strained off throng
straw, branches of trees, charcoal, &c., and lastly, through
fine flannel bags. An addition of alum, to the amount ot
about one-fourth of the weight of the scrolls, is then made.
The size is run into chests or casks for use, where it soon
conceals. When run off, it is much too strong to size any
description of paper with. When the sizing operation is
to proceed, therefore, it is mixed up and diluted with water,
in a small boiler, and heated with steam. From the boiler
it is made to flow in a spout into a tub of about five tee
confining it, above the liquid size; and whenever the pres¬
sure is removed, it is at once set aside as sized. The size
left in the tub is then pumped back to the boiler to be
again heated.
There cannot be a stronger evidence of the necessity for
the stuff being well prepared, in order to obtain a sound
paper, than the process of sizing. If the stuff has been
slowly prepared by trituration, so as to hold a good deal
of water, it will also hold and keep the size in a manner
corresponding thereto; whereas a quickly prepared stuff,
which has been cut rather than rubbed out, however strong
the size that may be employed, can scarcely be got to
Paper.
IquarT which isdso heated with steam introduced under keep it. It is also very injurious should any of the chlorine
square, wnicn is ai   ,iap fllwavs verv or chloride of lime be left in the paper unwashed out, as
a false bottom, it being very essential to use it always very
hot An additional quantity of alum is also made use ot,
which is placed in the spout, and is gradually dissolved
as the size flows down in contact with it. The workman
stands close to the tub, and dips the paper in handfuls,
containing about six quires on an average, with a wrapper
at top and bottom, which he soaks thoroughly, turning it
backwards and forwards, so that every portion becomes
completely penetrated with the size. It is also allowed to
remain some minutes soaking in the tub, being held by
wooden pincers suspended by a balance-weight. He then
carefully lifts them out one by one, and places them in a
press, adding to the heap till the press is full. The surplus
size flows, and is then, by a moderate pressure, squeezed
out of the paper, the edges of which are next rinsed by
hot water, before the pressure is taken off, to prevent them
from adhering together; and with the same view the heaps
of paper, when taken out of the press, are enveloped with
woollen cloths, so as to exclude the cold air. Moreover,
to prevent the paper from sticking when it is strongly sized,
it is separated or parted sheet by sheet, after which it is
pressed moderately, so as to make the spurs slightly adhere
together. It is better to keep the sized paper forty-eight
hours before hanging it up to dry, and then the more
gradual the drying the better. Another mode of sizing,
which tends to save both labour and wrappers, is by means
of a machine or wooden table about two feet from the floor,
above which are placed two spars of wood parallel to each
other, supported from the table. The spurs of paper are
placed vertically on the table, that is, their long edge rest¬
ing on the table and across it; and between each spur a
thin slip of wood is introduced, which is attached to the
spars of wood by means of hooks and eyes. 1 he slips of
wood are then pressed somewhat tightly together, so that
the whole mass is easily raised, by a pulley fixed overhead,
to a small carriage, by which the paper, when raised from
the table, and thus suspended in the air, can be wheel^tl
right over the tub, into which it is let down to receive the
size. This tub is divided into two compartments by a
wooden sole affixed to a screw, which lies horizontally^ and
is worked by some wheels, so as to press the paper. < Ihe
paper, when let down into the other portion ot the tub,
or chloride of lime be left in the paper unwashed out, as
the glutinous matter is thereby decomposed, and rendered
of no avail.
After the paper has again been thoroughly dried, it is
taken to the salle or finishing-house, where it is pressed
very often, in order to take out the marks of the lines, and
to improve the surface generally.1 The hot-pressing is
carried on by means of smooth paper boards which have
been glazed by passing through metal rollers. 1 he paper
is placed alternately between these, and heat is communi¬
cated by hot iron plates being laid upon these at intervals
of about six quires. These plates are heated in an iron
box, into which a supply of steam is sent, and where they
do not generally require to be more than five or ten
minutes. These plates, by means of pressure, communi¬
cate a good deal of heat throughout the paper, after it has
been all brought under the action of the hydraulic press.
In consequence, however, of the general use of steel
pens, and perhaps to some extent of the fashion of the
day, it is necessary to finish fine letter-papers now with a
much higher gloss, and various methods have been adopted
for this purpose. One of these methods consists in using,
instead of the hot-pressing smooth glazed boards, copper
plates made very smooth, on which the sheets of paper are
laid, a copper plate and a sheet of paper alternately.
These, when filled with about one quire of paper, are
passed between a pair of iron rollers, where the pressure
is equal to twenty or thirty tons, and which are driven by
the machinery of the mill. By moving a clutch, a small
wheel is thrown in and out ot gear at pleasure, so that
the workman can instantaneously reverse the motion of
these rollers, and they can be made either to take the
copper plates away, or to return them again towards him
after they have passed through, so as to sustain the pres¬
sure twice over. Another workman attends on the other
side of the rollers to return the copper plates. It requires
three w'omen to be attending to fill and empty eac i set
of copper plates, one filling in the rough, another taking
out the smooth paper, and the third lifting off the coppei
plates in succession, and placing them on the sheets of
paper as these are laid down. When the paper has had
three or four pressures, it is pretty smooth, and is then
1 T7 t 7. _ . knf it it hp
paper, when let down into the other portion or tne tun, iniee ui iuui pico ? i j naQ<*pH
has the frame and slips hooked away from it as soon 4s it* denominated rolled or hot-presse ; blether
is gently pressed by the screw, so as to keep it from falling more frequently throug t e ro ers, three
down. The hot size is then allowed to flow in amongst surface, and is then called
the paper, on which, when thoroughly soaked wif^^ize, the women, can in this manner in frnm^the miiek
screw is made to ^ork, and to press it. A bedvd' v^Wpaper in one day. The work is laborio s from quick-
has been pressed down against the paper is ndw fastened ness with which it is done, am , ro nanPr itself the
to a board of similar construction by means of strong iron corners of the coppei pa es, an o P P ’ ,
clamps, and the screw is worked back again, leaving tlrfeivomen are very hab e o lave p
paper still under pressure. A strong false bottom of woo'd^*ffiis‘'dsppilinent of workjs no veiy P°PP. ’ trend-mill
on which the paper rests, is now raised by means of a rack, manufactories it has acquire ®.n^m ,, *.
and pinion, and with it the paper and the heavy planks Another mode of giving a ng ler sur a e p [
1 A very laborious operation, and one injurious to the paper, used to he performed in the salle that of picking out the knots an
lumps in the paper by means of small knives. The paper could not fail to be injured by this system of scrap ng and the n k was always
apt to sink where it had been scraped; but this operation is now rendered almost unnecessary by the invention of the strainer, through
which the pulp is strained before it passes into the vat. 2 K
VOL. XVII. ^
/
258
PAPER.
Paper.
Machine
paper¬
making.
Fourdri-
nier’s ma¬
chine.
by passing it through a calender, or cylinders which have
been made of cast-iron, copper, or brass, or one of them,
like the ordinary calenders, consisting of a paper bowl.
But these, although they be accurately fitted and polished,
are all more or less liable to receive marks or indentations
from any minute hard substances, or from folds or creases
which may be in the paper, and which they give out again,
and thus mark the paper.
The paper is now, after being rolled or glazed, told out
into quires or half quires, folded, and made up into reams,
and is subjected to pressure under hydraulic presses in
every stage. It is then tied up in a wrapper, with a label
on it, for the protection of the duty, and the label being
filled up by the trader and officer respectively, the paper
is weighed by the latter, and stamped, so as to denote the
amount being charged against the maker.
Hitherto we have considered this manufacture as carried
on by the hand. But the hand-mills in different parts of the
kingdom are nearly extinct. Excepting for some kinds of
drawing-papers, papers for account-books, and some others,
all paper is now made by the machine, and we do not believe
that the quantity or weight of hand-made paper amounts to
one per cent, on the whole quantity manufactured.
The machine which is now used so universally all over
the kingdom is the invention of Louis Robert, and was
brought to this country by M. Didot of Paris, who came
over to England, and, with the assistance of the MM.
Fourdrinier, and Donkin the engineer, succeeded in per¬
fecting the invention, and in acquiring a patent right, which
was afterwards renewed for a longer period by Parliament,
in consequence of the patentee’s not having derived suffi¬
cient compensation.
The stuff flows out of the chest C (Plate II.) by a pipe
furnished with a cock, which is opened more or less wide,
according to the thickness of the paper to be made. It
falls into the spout, where it meets a large supply of water,
which has been in great part passed through the web of
pulp before, as will be afterwards explained. It then falls
into the vat at the opening of the spout, and is there
agitated by the little hog, as it is called.
The strainer S is generally used before the stuff flows
into the vat. It consists of a brass rectangular trough 6
feet long, 2 feet wide, 4 inches deep, the bottom being a
plate of brass cut into very fine slits or grooves, to suit the
length of fibre of the pulp usually put through it. The
strainer is driven by means of a light iron or brass shaft
which passes above it, and has two small notched wheels,
one placed above each end, and working into the frame of
the strainer. When the shaft revolves, therefore, it will be
seen that at every notch the strainer is raised, and then
quickly descends by its own weight, so as to produce a
continual jerking motion, making about a hundred and
thirty strokes per minute. The stuff is now flowing in, and
the bars are placed so close to each other that the fibres
must necessarily pass longitudinally, and any knot or extra¬
neous substance larger in diameter than the width of the
slit is kept out of the pulp.
After the stuff has been strained and mixed hi the vat
by the agitator working in it, it is allowed to flow out
by a number of holes in the side of the vat on an endless
fine wire-cloth, w, on which the web is formed. This
wire-cloth, which must be perfectly level, moves upon a
number of small copper rollers, about an inch and a halt
diameter, and an inch and a half separate. These rollers
rest upon a frame, which is left so far free as to be moved
laterally by a rod which is attached to a crank, and thus is
produced a vibration, more or less quick, according to the
nature of the stuff, which causes the water to flow through
thewire-cloth, and connects the fibres of the pulp together. A
large shallow wooden vessel is placed below the wire-cloth,
called the save-all, which receives the water and the flour of
the pulp in large quantity. The water then passes through a Paper,
spout on the side of the machine, and flows into a box, from
whence it is thrown back by stuff pumps into chests CC.
The edges of the paper are formed by pliable deckles,
which were formerly made of leather, then of woollen
cloth. Belts or deckles, however, composed of alternate
layers of linen and caoutchouc, firmly cemented together,
are now most generally employed. These belts are half
an inch thick, and about sixteen feet long, and are drawn
by the pulley upon the shaft g. It will be seen that they
move under a solid plate of iron or brass, which is mode¬
rately pressed down upon them, but not so much so as to
impede their free motion along with the wire-cloth, whilst
they fit sufficiently tight to it to prevent any of the stuff
from flowing away laterally before the paper is set.
By the time these caoutchouc deckles leave the wire-
cloth, the stuff is no longer fluid, though a good deal of water
still flows from it. The wire-cloth then passes on with
the pulp upon it through the cylinders tc, uc, of which the
under one is of metal, covered with a jacket, as it is called,
of felting or flannel; and the upper one is generally of
wood, but hollow, and covered with mahogany about an
inch and a half thick; that wood being less apt to shrink
or get out of shape than any other; and this roller also has
a jacket. A slight pressure is given by these, which are
called the wet-press cylinders; and after this stage, the
paper pulp is led upon an endless felt, which must pro¬
ceed exactly at the same speed as the wire-cloth, as, by
any irregularity in their motion, the pulp would break.
The wire-cloth returns back round the under wet-press
cylinders, to receive a new supply of pulp, and is supported
by a series of copper tube rollers, which revolve by the
friction of it. The wire-cloth is generally about twenty-five
feet in length by five feet in width, and has about sixty
holes in the lineal, or 3600 in the square, inch.
The web of paper, still in a very wet state, is now car¬
ried away by an endless felt, between cast-iron cylinders
k, k, where it sustains a severe pressure, and where a great
deal of water is squeezed out, after which the paper may be
handled. It then passes through a second pair of press
cylinders, that the mark of the felt which was impressed
on the under surface by the first pressure may be removed;
and for this purpose the under surface is now placed next
the metal cylinder. The web then passes over the surface
of a number of cylinders, heated with steam, and arranged
as to number and relative position according to the ideas of
the manufacturer or millwright. When the web has passed
over about 70 lineal feet of surface heated in this manner, it
is dry, and is wound upon a reel, or wooden roller of small
diameter, in order to be either sized in the sizing-machine,
or, if already sized in the pulp, to be passed through the
cutting-machine hereinafter described, as the case may be.
The paper-machine moves at the rate of from twenty-
five to sixty or seventy feet per minute. The whole pro¬
cess, therefore, in its transition from liquid pulp at the one
end to dry paper at the other, occupies scarcely two minutes.
This, in the ordinary state of the weather, could not for¬
merly be done in less than seven or eight days. Supposing,
therefore, that the machine makes ten yards lineal of a web
per minute, or 600 in the hour, this is equal to a mile in
three hours, or four miles per diem of twelve hours. The
paper is generally made about fifty-four inches wide. Reck¬
oning that there are 300 machines in Great Britain, and
that they work twelve hours each day on an average (many
go both day and night), the length of web would altogether
be equal to 1200 miles, and the area of what was made
would be about 3,000,000 yards daily.
Printing paper, which is now entirely made by the ma¬
chine, is in general sized in the pulp. WRite soap, starch,
glue, and dissolved rosin, are principally used for this pur¬
pose, with the addition of a few pounds of alum. Such of
PAPER.
259
Paper, these as are used are put through a sieve into the beating-
engine. The web, before being dried off, is also in some
mills passed through hot size, the surplus of which is
pressed out between two cylinders. This tends to strengthen
the paper materially; but it is not easy for paper to keep
the size if it be dried off hastily on the cylinders ; and this is
difficult, if not impossible, in the finer descriptions of paper,
where the material is not so strong as that for more common
kinds, and not so favourable for being thoroughly sized,
The fine bluish tinge which so many writing papers pos¬
sess used to be derived from a mineral but very expensive
blue, namely, the oxide of cobalt, generally called smalts.
This article used entirely to be imported from Saxony,
Denmark, and Sweden ; but it is now almost entirely dis¬
placed by the artificial ultramarine, which has been chiefly
derived from Nuremberg, Lyons, and more recently from
the Prussian Rhenish provinces. The latter blue is much
cheaper, and of an equally brilliant azure as that of the
smalts; the only disadvantage being, that it the sized paper
remain long in the damp state, the beautiful deep blue is
apt to pass into a greenish shade by the action ot the sul¬
phuric acid in the alum upon the ultramarine.
The finest writing-papers, which are now almost wholly
manufactured upon the machine, are sized by being passed
in the web through a solution of gelatine and alum, at a tem¬
perature of about 100°, and are thereafter, in some mills,
and without loss of time, dried off by being carried round a
succession of drums or circular frames, on iron rods or
wooden spars ; there being inside of each drum a fan driven
at great speed, and projecting the air (about 80° Fahr.) upon
the surface of the paper. This mode of sizing constitutes
one of the great improvements introduced within the last
twenty years, and was chiefly the invention of the late Mr
Ranson of Ipswich. By the agency of the atmosphere, it
formerly required, in favourable circumstances, two or three
days for the drying of gelatine-sized paper, when hung
upon the hair-lines in the drying-lofts. At present the
web of sized paper travels over the surface of the drums,
which are usually arranged in pairs. These are gene¬
rally of the diameter of about 3 feet; and there being for
each machine about thirty of them, the paper travels about
300 feet in about ten minutes, when it comes out at the
end perfectly dry, and is then passed through the cutting-
machine, where it is cut into sheets of the size intended.
In many mills in England and Scotland, the operations of
forming the web on the wire cloth, drying on the heated
cylinders, again wetting it by passing it through the size,
pressing out the surplus thereof, drying it by currents of
air as above described, and then cutting it into sheets, are
performed continuously and in the same apartment.
Excepting in great Britain and Ireland, almost all writing-
paper is sized or made capable of bearing ink by means of
a vegetable size, consisting generally of a resinous soap, and
introduced into the pulp of the beating-engine when nearly
ready for being made into paper. In Great Britain and
Ireland, as already described, an animal size from gela¬
tine is employed for such papers. The former takes a
more glossy surface, and is of a more sdky feel, whereas the
gelatine-sized paper has more firmness and what is called in
the trade more “ mettle,” which is more in consonance with
our natural taste than the softer and more highly polished
surface of the foreign papers referred to.
The process of water-marking machine-made paper in
the web was, fifteen or twenty years since, considered an
impossibility; but is now very effectually and ingeniously
accomplished. A very light wire cylinder, of about 6
inches diameter, is placed in framings so as to rest across
and upon the wire-cloth of the machine, and to be moved
by it. The cylinder is covered with wove wire-cloth, or
formed of “ laid wires,” containing letters or devices similar
to those stitched on the wove or laid moulds used in mak¬
ing paper by hand. The cylinder being driven by the Paper,
friction of the advancing wire-cloth, impresses on the pulp,
at the place where it has scarcely ceased to be fluid, the
devices and letters upon the surface ; and as, by means of the
vacuum-box, over which the wire-cloth passes immediately
thereafter, the water is rapidly drawn from the pulp, the
water-mark remains clear and distinct by the pulp being
deprived at once of all fluidity, which would cause the pulp
partially to run together again, and thus a faint or imper¬
fect water-mark would be produced.
Several machines have been invented for cutting paper Cutting-
as it is made by the machine. Amongst others, one by MM. machines.
Fourdrinier of Staffordshire has been very generally intro¬
duced and approved of. As it is capable, however, of cut¬
ting five or six thicknesses of paper at once, it is not in gene¬
ral attached to the machine, but is found in some contiguous
convenient place. The paper is reeled, as described above,
on small rolls of about 6 inches diameter, and these are
placed with the spindles lying in grooves in a curved frame,
whence they are taken and passed round a drum, and then
through some small rollers. After the web is divided lon¬
gitudinally by circular knives, which are set opposite each
other upon shafts on each side of the paper, the progress
of it is stopped for an instant by a very ingenious contri¬
vance, when a knife descends, beginning at one side of the
web, which is held fast by a heavy w eight laid across it,
and cuts it across. The web then goes on till it has passed
as much paper through as is the requisite size of the sheet,
when the knife again descends. The sheets thus cut are
carried on by a small felt moved in connection with the
rest of the machinery.
The paper-machine is peculiarly suited for making thin
papers, which are not easily made by hand without great
damage in the couching department, from the difficulty of
getting off the sheet whole upon the felt; namely, the
thin paper for copying letters, tissue-papers used for put¬
ting before prints, &c. A large quantity of remarkably
thin paper, also, made from old ropes of a better descrip¬
tion than usual, and called pottery tissue, is made for print¬
ing the colours on china, &c., which could never have
been made by hand. The machine has also been of im¬
mense service in producing paper of large sizes of sheets
for newspapers, which could not have been worked by hand.
It would have been very serious and laborious work for a
man to make paper even large enough for a single sheet of
the Times newspaper, which measures 2 feet by 3. Indeed,
till about 1825, the legislature restricted the size of news¬
papers to 22 by 32 inches, beyond which they could not be
stamped; which restriction was done away with just as
soon as it became possible to make by machinery any size
of paper that might be desired. But perhaps in no depart¬
ment of paper-making has the advantage of the machine
shone so conspicuously as in the paper used for paper-stain¬
ing, and the consequent great reduction in price of the hang¬
ings. Before the application of the machine, the paper used
by paper-stainers was of the size of 28 by 23 inches, called
elephant. It required, in order to form a piece of 12 lineal
yards, that sixteen or eighteen of these sheets should be
pasted together, which is now rendered wholly unnecessary
by the paper being furnished to the Stainers in sheets of 12
yards each in length.
The chief seats of paper manufacture in Great Britam
are:—
1. Kent, where it was first established, and where there
are a great number of hand-mills for making fine water¬
marked writing papers. There are also a good many ma¬
chines for fine writing and printing paper.
2. In Hertfordshire, Buckinghamshire, and Oxfordshire,
the manufacture of fine printing papers is very extensively
carried on, and all made by machinery.
3. In Lancashire and the continguous counties, it is car-
260
PAPER.
Paper.
ried on to a very large extent, the material, as already
noticed, being chiefly derived from the refuse of the cot¬
ton mills, to which is added a mixture of cotton-bagging, of
which there is a large supply, and which tends to strengthen
the paper. This description of paper, however, both from
the impurities which are inseparable from so very dirty a
material as the sweepings of the cotton-mills, and from its
soft spongy texture, is very inferior to that which is made
out of a sound strong rag.
4. In Scotland the manufacture is carried on to a large
and rapidly increasing extent. From the ready communi¬
cation with London, and other causes, both fine writing
papers and others find a ready market there. Indepen¬
dently of the white paper, there is manufactured in all parts
of the country a large quantity of brown paper, made from
old ropes, sacking, flax waste, &c.
Paper is considerably adulterated with plaster of Paris,
sometimes to the amount of 30 per cent., for the purpose
of gaining weight. This can easily be detected by burn¬
ing a portion of a sheet, when the plaster will remain after
combustion in an ashy w'hitish-coloured residuum. Brown
paper is also often mixed up with a good deal of ochre or
clay, the makers saying that it is for the purpose of giving
it a nice brown colour, though it may be doubted whether
it be not also with the intention of increasing the weight.
The following table, showing the strength of different
kinds of paper, has been prepared from actual experiment.
It denotes the number of pounds avoirdupois required to
break a strip of paper 2 inches wide, both ends being se¬
cured above, and the weights attached to a small wooden
roller, resting upon the strip of paper: —
Wt. in grs. Wt. in lbs.,
avoir, of a supported
superficial by a strip
foot. 2 in. broad.
Bank post, very thin writing paper, sized. 65 23
Ditto unsized, but thinner  48 13
Thick writing paper, machine made  139 42
„ „ made by hand  143 60
„ drawing paper, machine made  217 55
Newspaper, sized at the machine  113 39
Paper used for Scotch bank-notes  95 70
Strong cartridge-paper  135 64
Pink blotting-paper  90 10
The manufacture of paper has immensely increased in
Great Britain and Ireland within the last twenty-five years,
consequent upon the penny postage, the repeal of the news¬
paper stamp and of the restriction of the dimensions of
newspapers formerly prescribed by law, and also from the
greatly increased amount of our manufactures and exports.
This will appear from a comparison of the account of the
duty charged twenty-five years ago, and what it has
amounted to since.
Up to 1836, all paper, excepting brown paper, made from
old ropes, paid a duty of 3d. per lb.; but in that year the
duty was assimilated and made l^d- per lb. for all kinds,
including the duty upon millboards and pasteboards, which
were till that period respectively charged 3d. and Ifd. per
lb. The amount of paper, and the rate of duty in 1833
were as follows :—
First-class paper Lbs. 49,404,408 at 3d. per lb. duty.
Second  ,, 15,531,059 at IJd. „
Millboard  ,, 28,325 at 3d. „
Pasteboards  „ 15,148 at Ifd. ,,
Total..  64,978,940 lbs.
and the amount of duty gross wras L.763,104.
If this weight of paper had been charged at the same rate
of duty which was imposed in 1836, and has continued ever
since, the duty would have amounted to L.406,118 7 6
Add 5 per cent., imposed on all excisable
articles in 1841, and ever since  20,305 18 4
L.426,424 5 10
Now, the actual duty charged, by the last report of the
Commissioners of Inland Revenue for 1858, was,—Year
ended 31st March 1857, lb. charged, 192,297,399;
gross duty, L.1,244,143: 31st March 1858,1b. charged,
187,414,667; gross duty, L.1,244,723; showing the mar¬
vellous fact, that the quantity produced is as nearly as pos
sible three times as great in 1858 as it was twenty-five
years previously.
The supposed scarcity of the raw material, in conse
quence of the greatly increased consumption, has given
rise to a vast amount of enterprise not always put forth with
much wisdom, whereby all kinds of vegetable material have
been collected throughout the world, and operated upon
with the view of their being used in place of rags. Such
materials being often procurable at a very low price, and in
unlimited abundance, have been conceived to offer great
advantage to the manufacturer; but it has been too fre¬
quently overlooked, that the cost of boiling and bleaching
such materials is very great, and the waste attending their use
is enormous, to say nothing of their unsuitableness in many
cases for the purpose. Straw, which is used in several
mills in England, and from which a pretty good paper for
newspapers is made, costs only about L.2 to L.3 per ton;
but we believe the cost of bleaching it will make the
amount L.16 or L.18 in all; and when to this is added the
fact, that we have reason to believe that not one-half, or
even one-third, of the weight of the straw employed is got
back in paper, and that the paper is necessarily much more
brittle than that from rags, there appears to be no great
advantage derived from its use. W e allow, however, that
as the reduction of straw, or such like materials, into
pulp is much more a chemical than a mechanical operation,
a great amount of mechanical agency is saved in the tri¬
turating process. We have seen many fibrous productions
introduced as specimens from tropical countries, and
particularly from the East and West Indies, several of
which have been manufactured into paper of fine quality.
The supply of such materials is stated to be unlimited;
and no doubt, as soon as a demand for a new raw material
exists, it will, through the enterprise and skill of English¬
men, be speedily forthcoming to any extent that may be
desired.
The following statistics of paper-making will show the
progress of that manufacture in the chief paper-producing
countries besides Great Britain; viz., the United States,
France, Belgium, and Germany. Paper-mills existed in
Massachusetts and Pennsylvania as early as 1730; but
it was not till 1830, when paper-machines began to be
constructed in Connecticut and Massachusetts, thata marked
advancement took place. The progress up to 1850 was
such that in that year the quantity of paper imported did
not exceed 2 or 3 per cent, of the amount consumed;
and this small per-centage consisted chiefly of fine writing
and fancy papers from England and France. Owing to
the extensive demand for new spapers and cheap literature,
more paper is said to be now consumed in the United
States, in proportion to the population, than in any other
country, or equal to the consumpt of France and England to¬
gether. The quality of American paper is generally inferior ;
but of late years the finer sorts have been also produced by
the aid of calenders. In 1850 the mills producing over #500
worth annually (L.104) were confined to the New England
States, and those of New York and Delaware. The num¬
ber of mills has since increased in the southern and west¬
ern states; and in 1853 there were 750 mills, with 3000
engines, producing 120,500 tons of paper, valued at
L.5,400,000. Of the 180,800 tons of rags required,
10,163 tons were imported (worth L.204,758), about one-
fifth of which was from Italy ; but the supply from that
country is annually decreasing.
A paper-machine was first erected in France in 1815.
PAP
PAP
261
Paper- In 1850 there were about 200 machines, estimated to pro-
Money duce annually about 39,000 tons of paper, besides 250 vats
II producing over 2000 tons; in all, 41,000 tons. 1 he fob
Paphos. jowjng table shows the amount and descriptions of papers
exported from France in 1849, as well as the amount im¬
ported :—
Exported. Imported.
White or ruled paper for music, 6,283,145 lb. 10,802 lb.
Coloured, in reams or quires, for binding, 149,875 „ 2,827 „
Envelopes, coloured  1,795,142 „ 4,065 „
Paper-hangings  1,421,315 „ 276 „
Silk, India, and Chinese papers, &c,     2,029 ,, 13,416,,
The quantity of rags imported into France in the same
year was nearly 800 tons ; exported, less than 1 ton. Be¬
sides what is imported in the shape of rags, the cotton
received from America, amounting annually to 55,800
tons, falls ultimately into the hands of the paper manufac¬
turer, as its exportation is prohibited by statute.
Paper-making was not successfully carried out in Bel¬
gium till the close of the seventeenth century, and but
little advancement was made till about the year 1820.
Since that period, however, the number of mills has greatly
increased. In 1849 there were 80 mills, with 2168 hands
employed; the paper exported was valued at L.36,040,
and the amount imported at L.2774. Of rags and
other materials for paper-making only 14^ tons were im¬
ported.
In various parts of Germany during the last few years
rapid progress has been made in the production of paper;
and in the Zollverein States the exports in 1850 exceeded
the imports. The number of mills in 1850 was 794, having
116 paper-machines, which produced about 37,000 tons
annually. It is an important fact, that while at Berlin,
and several other cities of Germany, very fine qualities of
paper are produced and partly exported, the papers imported
are almost exclusively of common quality. The kingdom
of Prussia exported, in 1850, 14 tons of paper, and im¬
ported 1 ton. The first paper-machine was established at
Berlin in 1818. In Austria there were in 1845, 40 machines
and 940 vats, producing 15,000 tons of paper, and in 1850,
49 machines and 900 vats, producing 32,500 tons. In
1854 the number of mills was 350, chiefly in Lower Aus¬
tria, Lombardy, and Bohemia. In Russia the manufacture
is virtually in the hands of the government, who have had
for many years several machines constructed in England,
combining all the then existing improvements. The im¬
portation of paper is prohibited by means of enormous
duties. (c. C.)
Papias
II
Papier
Mache.
PAPER-MONEY. See Monet.
PAPHLAGONIA was a country of Asia Minor, sepa¬
rated from Pontus on the E. by the River Halys (Kizil
Ermak), and from Bithynia on the W. by the River Par-
thenius (Bartan-Su), and bounded on the N. by the Eux-
ine, and on the S. by Galatia. The physical character of
the district was not very favourable. The Olgassys, and
another parallel mountain-chain, ran from E. to W., send¬
ing off many branches; the soil, especially in the south,
was cumbered by large primaeval forests, and the rivers
were small, and had short courses. The country, however,
was celebrated in the earliest times for the fine breed of
horses that were reared in its pastures, and in later times
for the beasts of chase that roamed through its wilds. All
that is known of the history of the Paphlagonians consists
of little else than mere notices of their subjugation by the
great powers that successively ruled the destinies of Asia
Minor. After living for many ages under native princes,
they were first reduced by Croesus, King of Lydia. On
the fall of that monarch, their country was incorporated
with the empire of Cyrus. They freed themselves from
the Persian yoke only to come in course of time, along
with Pontus and Cappadocia, under the power of Eumenes,
one of the generals of Alexander. Then, after again en¬
joying an interval of independence under the government of
native princes, they were again subjugated by Mithridates
the Great. From the dominion of Mithridates their king¬
dom eventually passed into the hands of the Romans.
Paphlagonia formed part of the province of Galatia, until, in
the reign of Constantine, it was constituted a separate pro¬
vince. The chief towns on the coast were Sinope (Sinab),
Cytorus, and Amastris (Amaserah). Those inland were
Pompeiopolis and Gangra.
PAPHOS, the name of two ancient cities of Cyprus
which were situated on the S.W. coast of the island. Old
Paphos stood on a height about 10 stadia from the shore,
and was said to have been founded by Cinyras, the father
of Adonis. It was famous throughout the ancient world,
and celebrated by the ancient poets on account of its asso¬
ciation with the name of Venus. There the goddess is said
to have come on shore immediately after she had started
into life out of the sea; and there her worship is supposed
to have been set up by the Phoenicians. There also were
her grave and altar, which are mentioned in the Odyssey;
her spacious temple, which is still seen in ruins; and her
image, which was nothing else than a white, twisted, pyra¬
midal stone. About 60 stadia N.W. from Old Paphos was
New Paphos (modern Baffa). It stood upon the sea; and
was said to have been founded after the destruction of
Troy by Agapenor, the leader of the Arcadians. Although,
like its more ancient namesake, it was the seat of the wor¬
ship of Venus, it was best known for its good harbour. It
is also notable as the place where Paul struck Elymas the
Sorcerer with blindness. (See Baffa.)
PAPIAS, an early Christian writer, flourished in the be¬
ginning of the second century as bishop of Hierapolis in
Asia. According to Irenaeus, he was a hearer of John
(probably the Evangelist), and a companion of Polycarp. A
few fragments of An Explication of the Words of the
Lord are the only specimens of his works that are extant.
They are found scattered among the writings of Irenaeus,
Eusebius, and other authors, and are valuable for the tra¬
ditions they contain regarding the Scriptures of the New
Testament. The best collection of them is contained in
the first volume of Routh’s Reliquice Sacra, 8vo, Oxford
1846-48.
PAPIER MACHfi. Articles in this substance are made
of cuttings of white or brown paper, boiled in water, and
beaten in a mortar, till they are reduced to a kind of paste,
and then boiled with a solution of gum-arabic or of size,
to give tenacity to the paste, which is afterwards formed
into different articles, by pressing it into oiled moulds.
When dry, the work is done over with a mixture of size
and lamp-black, and afterwards varnished. I he black var¬
nish for these articles is prepared as follows : Some colo¬
phony, or turpentine boiled down till it becomes black and
friable, is melted in a glazed earthen vessel, and thrice as
much amber in fine powder is sprinkled in by degrees, with
the addition now and then of a little spirit or oil of turpen¬
tine. When the amber is melted, the same quantity of sar-
cocolla is sprinkled in, and the ingredients are stirred, and
more spirit of turpentine is added, until the whole becomes
fluid ; it is then strained clear through a coarse hair bag,
pressing it gently between hot boards. This varnish, mixed
with ivory-black in fine powder, is applied, in a hot room, on
the dried paper paste, which is then set in a gently heated
oven, next day in a hotter oven, and the third day in a very
hot one, and allowed to remain each time till the oven grows
cold. The paste thus varnished is hard, durable, and glossy,
and is not affected by moisture or even by hot liquids.
262 PAP PAP
Papinianus The better kinds of 'papier mache work are prepared in
the following manner:—Porous paper, saturated with a
solution of flour and glue, is placed in repeated layers
upon a metal mould of somewhat smaller size than the re¬
quired object, a drying heat of about a 100° being used
between the layers, of which there are about ten for an
ordinary tea-tray, but the number varies with the nature of
the article. When a sufficient thickness has been attained,
the shell is removed from the mould and is planed and filed
to shape. Various coats of varnish are then laid on, and the
article is stoved after each varnishing. The article is next
smoothed with pumice-stone, and the artist then steps in and
ornaments the work in bronze powder, gold, colours, &c., after
which several coats of shell-lac varnish are added, and the
article having been stoved at a heat of 280°, is polished with
rotten-stone and oil, and is finished off" by hand-rubbing.
Articles in papier mache are subject to two great faults,
namely, inappropriateness and over-ornamentation, The
manufacturer is not content to execute in this material such
articles as tea-trays, screens, portfolios, ink-stands, work-
boxes, &c., but he invades the domain of other materials,
by executing chairs, tables, piano-fortes, &c., for which
papier mache is not suited. The articles are also
usually over-loaded with ornament; and the free use of
mother-of-pearl becomes objectionable, especially when it
is employed in landscapes to represent the moon, a river, or
a ruined tower. In contrasting some articles in japanned
ware from Japan and China, with similar articles of English
make, the jury of the Great Exhibition of 1851, in remark¬
ing on the good taste of the former, and the bad taste of the
latter, observed, that “ vulgar forms and bad ornament are
not necessarily connected with cheap manufacture.”
Sharp and well-defined architectural ornaments in papier
mache are prepared by glueing sheets of brown paper toge¬
ther, pressing the mass into a metal mouldy and when the
moulded paper has been trimmed to shape, a composition
of paper-pulp, mixed with rosin and glue, is put into the
mould, and the paper impression being again inserted is
pressed upon the pulp composition, which permanently ad¬
heres to it. Carton-pierre ornaments (which are lighter
and stronger than those of plaster of Paris) are made of
paper-pulp, mixed with whiting and glue pressed into plaster
piece-moulds, backed with paper, and when sufficiently set,
are hardened by drying in a hot room. (o. t.)
PAPINIANUS, AImilius, one of the greatest jurists
of antiquity, was born about the middle of the second cen¬
tury, and, after studying under Q. Cervidius Scsevola, was
appointed advocatus jisci by the Emperor Marcus An¬
toninus. A high-toned integrity, adorned with all the
penetration, erudition, and sagacity of a consummate lawyer,
was the quality which distinguished his character, and de¬
termined the fortunes of his career. It secured for him the
confidence of the Emperor Septimius Severus; so that he
was appointed in succession libellorum magister and pres-
fectus preetorii. Yet it also brought upon him the enmity
of Caracalla, the son and successor of that monarch ; for
this imperial fratricide felt himself rebuked by the lofty
morality of the lawyer, and could not pursue his bloody
career in peace until he had put him to death. T-he writ¬
ings of Papinian attained a reputation unsurpassed by those
of any other Roman jurist. He is quoted with the highest
commendation in various parts of the Code of Justinian;
and the Constitution of Theodosius and Valentinian sets
him up as the chief legal authority. Further, the law
students of the third year assumed the name of “Papi-
nianistae,” and kept the first day of their session as a festival
in honour of the great lawyer after whom they were called.
There are 595 excerpts from Papinian’s works in Jus¬
tinian’s Digest. They are extracted from the thirty-seven
books of his Qucestiones, the nineteen books of his Responsa,
the two books of his Dejinitiones, the two books of his
De Adulteriis, the single book of his on this same subject, Pappus
and his Greek fragment on the Office of the Aldile. Papi- II
nian is also quoted by Paulus, Ulpian, and Marcian. Papyru8.
PAPPUS. See Geometry.
PAPUA, or New Guinea. See Australasia. ^
PAPYRUS {Papyrus niloticus, P. jEgyptiacus, P.
antiquorum), a plant of the order Triandria digynia,
and of the genus Cyperaceae, used by the ancient Egyp¬
tians in the manufacture of paper. (See Paper.)
Papyrus, the paper made of the papyrus-plant, and used
by the Egyptians, as also by the Greeks, Romans, and
other nations of antiquity. (See Paper.)
Papyrus-Roll, a sheet of papyrus paper, or several
sheets united into one, rolled upon a slender wooden cylin¬
der for the purpose of writing thereon letters, contracts,
official acts, funereal and sacred books, historical records,
and other compositions. Frail and perishable as is the
pajjyrus-paper, very many such rolls, some of them of the
remotest antiquity, have come down to us in a high state
of preservation ; and are commonly known under the name
of papyri. As the Egyptian papyri, besides the high intrin¬
sic interest which they possess, have contributed in a very
remarkable way to the solution of the great problem of the
hieroglyphic question, it seems necessary, although they
have been cursorily noticed already under the head Egypt
(p. 444), to devote to the subject a special article, which
shall also embrace the Greek papyri, and the few which
have reached our time in Latin or other ancient languages.
It is impossible to fix with precision the period in Egyp¬
tian history at which the practice of writing on papyrus
began ; but it is unquestionably of the highest antiquity.
The hieroglyphics which the extant papyri contain, judg¬
ing by their form and character, belong to the time of the
fourth and fifth dynasties (Lepsius, Chronol. der /Egyp-
tier, p. 33); and, indeed, among the hieroglyphical charac¬
ters on the monuments of that date, are found the papyrus-
roll itself, as well as the rest of the writing apparatus.
Many of the extant papyri seem certainly to belong to a
very remote period. Lepsius refers the well-known papyrus
which he himself has edited, under the name of The Book
of the Dead, and which we shall have hereafter to describe,
to the earliest Pharaonic times ; and Bunsen agrees in this
estimate of its age. Wilkinson places the Turin Book of
Kings in the reign of the third king of the nineteenth dy¬
nasty, Rhamses 11., whose name it bears upon the back;
and the Rev. Dunbar Heath is satisfied that the rolls of
which he has published an account, under the name of The
Exodus Papyri, are actually contemporaneous with the
events to which he supposes them to refer.
The subject naturally divides itself into three heads—
Egyptian papyri, Greek and Roman papyri, and papyri
of the later empire.
I. The Egyptian papyrus-rolls first came into notice in
Europe when the celebrated French expedition opened Egypt,
and her history and antiquities, to the researches of the
learned. Since that time many collections, of greater or
of less value, have been deposited in the public and private
libraries and museums of Europe ; and a good deal has
been done towards the publication and illustration of the
more important among them. They are for the most part
funereal; and they have generally been found in the
mummy-cases, placed between the thighs or the arms, and
sometimes upon the stomach, or in the bend of the knees, of
the mummy. Considerable collections of them were formed
by different travellers or residents in Egypt, and they have
for the most part been deposited in the several great
libraries of the European capitals ; the British Museum,
the Bibliotheque Imperiale at Paris, the Vatican, the Ber¬
lin library, the Vienna library, the library of Trinity Col¬
lege, Dublin, and especially the Royal Library of Turin.
The first specimen of the Egyptian rolls of any real in-
PAPYRUS.
263
Papyrus- terest made public in Europe was printed in 1805, by M.
Roll. Cadet,1 and afterwards in a most beautifully-executed fac-
simile in the great French collection, Description de
VEgypte? Since that time have appeared many most
costly and elaborate specimens, to the most important of
which we shall have occasion to allude; and there can be
little doubt that, in the progress of Egyptian studies, and
with the increased advantages which modern students pos¬
sess, every fragment of interest which has been preserved
will eventually find its way into print.
The papyri are found written in various characters.
Of those in the Egyptian language, some are in the
hieroglyphic character, but very many more are in the
hieratic, and also in the demotic. (See Hieroglyphics.)
Some of the Egyptian papyri are in the Greek language
and character. Those in the ancient Egyptian language
may be divided into three classes—the funereal, the histo¬
rical or literary, and those which relate to judicial, do¬
mestic, or social affairs. AH these, but particularly the first
class, have been found in tombs, especially at Ihebes and
Memphis.
(1.) The funereal papyri were the first to attract atten¬
tion, from their number and the frequency of their occur¬
rence. It would seem, indeed, that a copy of one of these
papyri was regarded by the Egyptians in the light of a pass¬
port after death and a protection to the soul in its journey
towards the realms of judgment. An interesting funereal
papyrus, found in the collection of Trinity College, Dublin,
contains a rubric to the effect, that, “ if this book be re¬
cited on the earth, and this chapter be put in writing upon
a person’s coffin, he shall be manifested in the light, with all
the honours due to him; when he goes to his house, he
shall not be turned back; there shall be given to him bread,
liquors, and the choicest meats on the altar of Osiris ; and he
shall go to the fields of Aalon.”3 Hence there was a busy
trade in the production and sale of copies of these papyri.
Many of those still preserved were plainly prepared before¬
hand for sale, blanks being left for the names and titles of the
deceased, to be filled up as the occasion arose. These blanks
are frequently found filled up in a hand different from the
body of the document; and in some copies the blanks still
appear, owing to the forgetfulness or neglect of the under¬
taker. In a very highly-finished papyrus in the Dublin
collection, the blanks are left unfilled throughout the en¬
tire document.4 These funereal papyri, numerous as they
are, are all, in substance, copies, somewhat varied, of one
common original, or of certain portions of it, the most
complete copy of which now known is that preserved in
the Turin Museum. The papyrus published by Cadet,
and in the Description de VEgypte; those published by
Young in the collection of the Egyptian Society ;5 by Lee-
manns in the Monurnens du Musee des Pays Das; by
Von Hammer at Vienna in 1822; by Mai in 1825 ; by
Sankowski in 1826; by Rosellini, Salvolini, and still more
recently, by Brugsch and Forshall, are all evidently drawn
from that same original, although different portions are
selected in each instance, and although where the same por¬
tion is repeated in two or more of the papyri, the forms of ex¬
pression seem to vary considerably. It will be sufficient,
therefore, to describe the nature, and briefly to indicate the
contents, of the copy which is found in the Turin Museum,
supplying from other papyri some additional illustrations
and pictorial representations. This remarkable papyrus
was first examined by Champollion, who found it to contain
twice as much as that published in the Description de
VEgypte. Champollion regarded it as a copy of the fune¬
real ritual of the Egyptians, an opinion from which Lepsius
dissents, but without much apparent reason ; although,
perhaps, the title which the latter writer proposes, Das
Todtenbuch, “ The Book of the Dead,” describes its charac¬
ter more exactly. Champollion, alter a careful study of
the text, divided it into four parts, according to the sup¬
posed order of the subject, each of which he subdivided
into chapters. Dr Lepsius, however, who copied the en¬
tire in 1836, and published it in a most elaborate fac¬
simile in 1842,6 proposes a different and apparently more
intelligible division into chapters, which is now generally
adopted. Each of these chapters (which are 165 in num¬
ber) has, generally speaking, a title and an illustrative pic¬
ture prefixed ; and the division of the chapters is commonly
indicated by two lines, and by the words ke re or hi re
(“ another chapter”). The first fifteen chapters appear in
themselves to form a connected whole, and are entitled
Ha? t em re u nu her em hern en Hes-iri—(“ beginning of
the chapters of the appearing of the light of Osiris”). This
first portion of the Book of the Dead is regarded by Lep¬
sius as the most ancient, and indeed as the germ of the
entire, out of which all the subsequent parts have grown
as developments or additions. It occurs in many papyri,
and the illustrative vignettes are generally the same, al¬
though differing much from each other in the richness
and beauty of execution. In these vignettes are repre¬
sented the funeral procession, the mourners, the boat with
the bier of the deceased sailing upon the sacred river, the
train of domestics bearing libations and other offerings;
and finally, the deceased himself in the act of adoring the
sun. Then follows a series of mystic representations bear¬
ing upon the destiny of the deceased, and of invocations to
the god Thoth, in which he is entreated, as “ Thoth who jus¬
tified Osiris in the sight of his mercies,” to “justify Osiris7
Anfan^, even as he justified Osiris in the presence of the
great Tetmessu.”8 The vignettes which follow represent
the act of placing under the protection of the several
deities before whom the deceased is thus justified, the
several limbs or parts of the body of the deceased—his
head, eyes, mouth, heart, arms, hands, feet, legs, stomach,
&c.; and the various combats which he is obliged to un¬
dergo. Next come pictures of his deliverance from various
perils ; of the refreshments which are vouchsafed to him ;
of his w orshipping various deities; of the reunion of his
soul with the body ; of his passage through the fields of
Tme (the Egyptian Elysium), in which he is represented
as ploughing, sowing, reaping, thrashing, and lastly, rowing
across the infernal river a boat containing the cakes which
he has made ; of his subsequent journey to the mystic region
called Rosattou, and his arrival at the hall of the 1 wo 1 ruths,
where is represented his denial to the forty-two assessors of
Osiris, of forty-two distinct offences with which he is charged
before them, and in which is placed the remarkable scene
of the Psychostasia, or weighing of the soul in the scale of
justice. Most of the papyri contain pictures of this very
interesting monument of the Egyptian creed, varying
slightly in detail, but all exhibiting the same great features.
At the left side of a great hall, with the well-known frieze
and pillars, is seated Osiris, who is represented with his
habitual whip and crook, and generally (though not in the
Papyrus-
Roll.
* Oopte Jiguree dun rouleau de Papyrus trouvd a Thebes dans un Tombeau des Hois, Paris, 180o.
Description de VPEgypte (Antiquites'j, ii., pp. 72-75.
3 Catalogue of the Egyptian MSS. in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin, by Edward Hincks, D.D., p. 31.
4 Ibid., p. 11. s Hieroglyphics collected by the Egyptian Society, 1823.
6 Das Todtenbuch der JEgyptier, nach den hieroglyphischen Papyrus zu Turin, mit einem Vorworte, zum erstenmal herausgegeben von D. R.
Lepsius, Leipzig, 1842.
7 In the copies of the Ritual found in the mummy-cases, the deceased is always called by the prenomen Osiris, as if by anticipated
adoption. 8 four attendants or ministers of Osiris—Amset, Hapi, Sin Mut’f, Kebh-Senu.
264
PAPYRUS.
Papyrus- Turin papyrus) with the tablet of Ma, the goddess of justice,
^ Roll. Upon his breast. On the right enters the deceased, above
whose head appears in hieroglyphics the usual invocation
of Osiris. He is received by the goddess of justice, Ma,
who is often represented in the two-fold character of re¬
ward and punishment. In the centre stands a pair of scales,
in one of which Anubis is represented placing as a weight
a little figure of the goddess Mii, while in the other scale
the deceased is shown placing a heart-shaped weight (some¬
times with the word heti, “ heart,” inscribed upon it), the
emblem of his own works, good or evil, during life. Ihe
well-known hawk-headed figure adjusts the balance ; above
sits the forty-two assessors of Osiris, sometimes with the
deceased kneeling before them; while Thoth, the justifier
of Osiris, and of all the just, is represented writing down
the result of the trial. After this most interesting picture
come the purgatorial scenes, and those in the Hall of the
Propylons, which are exceedingly curious. The deceased
demands to be admitted. “ I will not allow thee to
enter,” begins the lintel of the door, “ till thou tell me my
name ” “ ” (not satisfactorily interpreted) “ is thy name.”
“ I will not allow thee to enter by me,” says the left post
of the door, “ until thou tell me my name.” “ Hanti-n-tme
(Pillar of Truth) is thy name.” Similar demands are
made in succession by the right post, the threshold, the lock,
the key, the bolt,the floor,&c. Without pursuing thisfarther,
however, it will be enough to say that many other equally
curious representations, illustrative, not only of the creed
of the Egyptians, but of scenes of their every-day life, are
found in these singular relics of ancient Egypt; and they
have supplied a most valuable key to much that was obscure
in the manners and customs of this remarkable people.
Another of the funereal papyri, but of later date, has still
more recently been published by Hr Brugsch at Berlin,
under the title of Sai an Sinsin} It is in the hieratic
character, and furnishes a very valuable supplement to
Lepsius’ Todtenbuch. It will be enough to say, that in
these two publications, which are both accompanied by
translations and elaborate annotations, the reader will find
all the latest and best information on both the general
subject of funereal papyri, and on all the details which they
ordinarily present.
(2.) The historical Egyptian papyri have come more re¬
cently into notice, but they have contributed to throw a great
deal of light on many difficult questions of Egyptian history
and chronology. The most important of these are the Turin
Book of Kings, The Campaign of Rhamses the Great
against the Scythians and their Allies, and the so-called
“ Exodus Papyri”
The history of the Turin Papyrus of the Kings is a cu¬
rious one. It originally came into the possession of the Tu¬
rin Museum in the collection of Signor Drovetti, which was
purchased by the Piedmontese government; but this parti¬
cular papyrus had been so injured by time or by neglect, that
it seemed little better than a mass of fragments. Champol-
lion, however, while he was inspecting the Egyptian antiqui¬
ties of the Turin Museum, at once perceived its value, and
carefully selected, from a mass of papyrus fragments among
which it lay in a confused heap, all the scraps which con¬
tained the names of kings, putting them together in the
best order which he could devise. This work, however,
has since been done over again with exceeding skill and judg¬
ment by Dr Seyffarth, who, by carefully examining with a
microscope the fibres of the several fragments, has suc¬
ceeded in restoring the papyrus to a tolerable degree ot com¬
pleteness. This manuscript was printed by Lepsius in his Papyrus-
Auswahl; but, as that copy did not contain the inscription on Roll,
the back, the papyrus has since been published entire by Sir
Gardner Wilkinson.2 Its contents have already thrown light
on many points, both in the native monuments of Egyptian
history and in the collateral indications supplied by the Bible
narrative: and, although there is much in this and all other
Egyptian records which disappoints inquiry, it is hardly
possible to overrate the importance of the study in itself,
or the hopes which may not unreasonably be entertained
from a more complete and systematic investigation. This
papyrus appears to have been written in the time of Rham¬
ses II. It does not contain the name of any king later than
the eighteenth dynasty.
The Scythian Campaign of Rhamses the Great is a
papyrus which originally formed part of M. Sallier’s (of Aix)
collection. It was published in 18353 by Salvolini, the pupil
of Champollion. It has unfortunately but little of the strictly
historical character, consisting in great part of encomiums
of Rhamses, bombastic addresses to his soldiers, dialogues
of the king with the gods, and similar rhetorical materials;
but it is nevertheless highly curious and characteristic.
The “ Exodus Papyri,” of which the Rev. Dunbar Heath
has published an account,4 are naturally, from their subject,
even more interesting, inasmuch as he considers these re¬
markable compositions so many contemporary collateral evi¬
dences of the Bible history of the exodus of the Jewish people.
Much remains still to be done for their full elucidation ; but
enough is stated by Mr Heath to create a deep interest in
the subject. These papyri, which originally formed part
of the Sallier and of the Anastasi collections, present
many most striking coincidences with the Mosaic narrative.
The most important of them is a letter or report addressed
by Enna, a scribe, to his superior officer, who had commis¬
sioned him to carry out an order that a certain slave people
should be allowed four days of holiday for the observance
of their festival, complaining that this order had been re¬
sisted by a certain Tahpanhes. Now, according to Mr
Heath, in these curious documents we meet with a Jannes
mentioned five times, a Moses twice, a Balak the son of
Zippor at a place called Huzoth, with the word Hebrew,
and with the “feast of passing the dead.” We find also
that a people, among whom a Moses was leader, marched
towards Palestine by the route of Tasacarta, Megdol, and
Zoar ; that they were connected with the names Midian and
Aram ; that there was a contest at the place of a great
water-flood; that an enslaved Aramaean people, located about
Tahpanhes, met great opposition from the governor in cele¬
brating the four days’ feast at the beginning of their year;
that a Moses is again named as cattle-owner among them;
that a royal or noble youth is described as meeting a sudden
and mysterious death ; that a royal order is immediately
issued for the hasty departure of a people, for their feast of
passing the dead ; and that miracles are named as performed
by their leader in the palace of Lower Egypt. (Pp. 57-8.)
And although the coincidences may not be complete, nor
the evidences entirely satisfactory, yet they are quite enough
to create an interest in the subject of the very deepest
kind. Several other papyri in the British Museum and
other collections are historical. In the Select Papyri of
the British Museum (London, 1844) there are four; and
Lepsius (pp. 33-4) mentions two others in Berlin, and a
third in his own possession.
Of strictly so-called literary papyri among the Egyptians
little is known ; but we may mention one very curious one, of
> Sai an Sin,in, riv. Liter Moenep,,elo,i. veternm Egyptiomm. E dnalu. Papyri, fnnebribu, Meraiiei, HgnU eaarati, edidit, Laid,*
"T1™" B™S‘ch’ Ber*i“'i,wn1' eentainina ite Nan,,, of Egyptian King,, with the Hieratic In,crip,ion a, the Each, by
2 The Fragments of the Hieratic Papyrus at 'lunn, containing me Liuincuvj i)QT.;c 1835
Sir J. G. Wilkinson; London, 1851. 2 Campagne de Rhamses le Grand centre lesScheta et leurs Mills, Pans, 183o.
3 The Exodus Papyri, by Rev. D. J. Heath, with Introduction by Miss Fanny Corbaux, London, 1855.
PAPYRUS.
Papyrus- which an account is given in the Revue Archeologique for
Roll. 1852-3 (pp. 385-97). It is the story of two brothers, Anepou
and Patou, one of whom is the Egyptian counterpart of Jo¬
seph in the Bible history. He is tempted by his brother’s
wife in exactly the same words employed by the wife of Po-
tiphar, and on his resisting her seductions, is denounced by
her to her husband. The subsequent narrative, which it
would be too tedious to detail, is a strange medley of the
natural and supernatural; but the whole piece presents in
a very curious light not only the domestic usages of Egypt,
but the popular notions which then prevailed as to the inter¬
position of the gods in the affairs of men.
Under the head of Egyptian papyrus literature, may per¬
haps be mentioned the well-known and valuable fragment
of Homer on papyrus, which was found in one of the tombs
at Thebes. It is of course in Greek, but as having been
found in an Egyptian tomb, may be considered as Egyptian.
(3.) The Egyptian papyri which relate to civil or judi¬
cial affairs are generally in the enchorial character : they
relate for the most part to sales or transfers of property,
houses, lands, tombs, &c., the particulars of which they de¬
scribe in most curious detail. The subjects of many of
them may to some appear tedious and unimportant; but in
reality it is to them that Egyptian antiquarians have been
indebted for most of the details of the judicial processes
of Egyptian law, as well as of many of the particulars of
the private life of the Egyptians.
II. By far the most important Greek papyri are those of
Herculaneum, which have been elsewhere described. (See
Herculaneum.) Unhappily the condition of these rolls
is so lamentably defective that at best only fragments can
be hoped from their decipherment; and it must be con¬
fessed too, that the books which have been hitherto dis¬
covered, and of which the Volumina Herculanensia contain
the remains, are not of a nature to make the loss a subject
of much regret. There are two of them, the titles of which,
as bearing upon Homer, might seem calculated to create an
expectation of something which might give us an idea of
the principles of criticism which then prevailed; but they
are miserably meagre and unsatisfactory; and the same may
be said even of what bears upon the Epicurean philosophy,
although the author, Philodemus, was a follower of that
sect.
But the strictly Egyptian papyri in the Greek language
are no less valuable, as illustrating the manners and customs
of the Egyptians, than those in the Egyptian language; and
they have the additional advantage of being at once per¬
fectly intelligible, and of serving as a key to the enchorial
language of Egypt. Several collections of these papyri
have been published ; the most notable are those of Amedeo
Peyron, whose labours as an editor of palimpsest literature
have been described in another place. (See Palimpsest.)
He published in 1826 a considerable collection1 with a very
interesting introduction and notes ; and a few years later, he
added to these a commentary on some papyri selected out of
a similar though smaller selection from the museum of Vien¬
na,2 which had been published by Giovanni Petrettini.3 These
papyri, which are all of the class already described, are most
curious and highly important for the student of Egyptian do¬
mestic and social antiquities. A selection from the Greek
papyri of the British Museum has been published by Mr For-
shall ;4 but, as the text only is given, unaccompanied by illus¬
trative notes, this publication is far inferior in interest to that
of Amedeo Peyron, or to a similar one of his nephew, Ber¬
nardino Peyron, printed several years later. An additional
item in the value of these papyri, and one which was early
appreciated by Young in his hieroglyphical studies, is the
fact, that many of them are but the Greek transcripts of
4 Papiri Greed Taurinensis Mused, 2 vols. 4to, 1826.
Papiri Greco-Egid del Museo Imperiale di Vienna, 1826.
VOL. XVII.
265
the enchorial original of the deed of sale, contract, or judi- Rapyrus-
cial procedure, and therefore serve, to some extent at least,
if not as a translation, at all events as a guide to the sense
of the original.
III. The papyri in Latin and other ancient languages
are not of much interest. Of the rolls in Herculaneum,
many were in Latin ; but unhappily the folds of all these
were so firmly agglutinated that they went to pieces in the
attempt to unrol them. One scrap alone, in hexameter
verse, has escaped, and is published in the second volume of
the Volumina Herculanensia. It is a fragment of a poem
on the battle of Pelusium, and is ascribed by the editors to
Rabirius, a writer of whom little else is known.
Of the later period, a copy of St Augustine’s Letters is
the only Latin relic on papyrus of any interest. A few
specimens of charters and similar records on papyrus are
given by Silvestre in his Palceographie Universelle. In the
same work also are one or two papyri in the Syriac and
Arabic languages.
(Besides the works cited above, see SammlungDemolish,
Griechischer Eigennamen Agyptische Privat leute, aus In-
schriften und Papyrus-rollen zusannumgestellt, von Er¬
nest Brugscb, Berlin, 1851. See also Lettre a M. E. De
Rouge au Sujet de la Decouverte dHun MS. Bilingue Pa¬
pyrus en Ecriture Demotico-Egyptienne et en Grec cursif
de Van 114 avant noire ete., Berlin, 1852, by the same
author.) (c. w. R.)
PARA (in full, Santa Maria de Belem do Gram Para),
a town of Brazil, capital of a province of the same name,
stands on the right shore of the estuary of Para, or south
arm of the Amazon, which is here 7 miles wide, about 70
miles from the Atlantic. The streets are straight and well
paved, crossing one another at right angles ; and the houses
are well and substantially, some even elegantly, built of
stone. They are not generally high, few having more than
two stories, and many of them only one. There is a large
and handsome cathedral, and several fine churches. The
Jesuits’ seminary, now partially used as an episcopal palace,
and the governor’s palace, are among the finest buildings in
the town. There are two convents, and the buildings of a
third are now used as barracks. Para has also a college, se¬
veral schools and hospitals, a botanic garden, a theatre, and a
court of law. The anchorage of the city of Para is capacious
and perfectly safe, being rarely exposed to strong winds, ex¬
cept momentary squalls, and varying in depth from 7 to 3|
fathoms, or less. With the exception of two large shoals at
the entrance of the river, the approach is practically unob¬
structed, there being abundant breadth of channel, varying
from 7 to 11 fathoms in depth. The entrance-channel at
the mouth of the river is deep and clear for a W.S.W.
course, and there is little or no difficulty in entering by
daylight; but for sailing-vessels of large draught the outlet
(which is through another channel) is not quite so safe, as it
is narrow and much shallower, and as the wind sets directly
into it. A redoubt in front of the palace overlooks the
anchorage, and a small fort 4 miles below the town com¬
mands the approach. T-he commerce of the port is very
considerable; it was formerly the source whence most of
the countries in the world were supplied with India-rubber;
and though the discovery of that article in the East Indies,
Africa, and in other parts, has somewhat diminished the
quantity exported, yet it still constitutes one of the chief
staples of the trade of Para. The quantities exported in
1856 were,—to Great Britain, 1,984,940 lb.; to the
United States, 2,444,580 lb.; and to other countries,
367.309 lb. The export of cocoa, however, is at present
greater than that of India-rubber. It is chiefly sent to
France, where a great demand was created for it during
2 Papiri Greco-Egizi di Zoide del Museo di Vienna, 1828.
* In 1839.
2 L
266
PAR
PAR
Para
II
Parable.
the recent war. The quantities of this article exported in which Nathan reproved David (2 Sam. xii. 2, 3), that in Paracelsus.
1856 were,—to France, 5,260,155 lb.; to other countries, which Jotham exposed the folly of the Shechemites (Judg. ^
103,255 lb. There are also exported large quantities of ix. 7-15), and that addressed by Jehoash to Amaziah (2
Brazil nuts, rice, sugar, cotton, dye-woods, &c. The most Kings xiv. 9, 10). To this class also belong the parables of
important articles of importation are hardware, calico, and Christ. 3c?. A type or emblem, as in Heb. ix. 9, where
soap, all of which are chiefly obtained from the United TrapapoXr) is rendered in our version
States. The following table exhibits the shipping entered Parables or fables are found in the literature of all
and cleared, as well as the total value of the imports and nations. They were called by the Greeks alvot, and by the
exports since 1851:  Romans fabulce. It has been usual to consider the parable
as composed of two parts,—viz., the protasis, conveying
merely the literal sense; and the apodosis, containing the
mystical or figurative sense. It is not necessary, however,
that this second part should be always expressed. The
excellence of a parable depends on the propriety and force
of the comparison on which it is founded, on the general
fitness and harmony of its parts, on the obviousness of its
main scope or design, on the beauty and conciseness of
the style in which it is expressed, and on its adaptation to
   the circumstances and capacities of the hearers. The par-
The climate of Para, though hot and liable to thunder- ables of the Old Testament are admirable specimens of
storms, is very healthy for Europeans. Pop. estimated at this species of composition. Witness those of Jotham
28,000, of whom about 4000 are slaves. (Judg. ix. 7-15), of Nathan (2 Sam. xii. 1-14), of Isaiah
Para, a maritime province of Brazil, of which the above (v. 1-5), and of Ezekiel (xix. 1-9). But the parables
town is the capital. It lies between Eat. 9. S. and 4. 30. of our Saviour claim pre-eminence over all others, on ac-
N., Long. 45. and 64. W.; and is bounded on the N. by count of their variety, appositeness, and beauty,
the three Guianas and the Atlantic, E. by the provinces (See Gray, Delineation of the Parables, 1777 ; Bulkley,
of Maranhao and Goyaz, S. by that of Matto-Grosso, and Discourses on the Parables, 1771; Collyer, Discourses on
W. by that of Alto-Amazonas ; area, 1,155,253 square the Parables, 1815 ; Kromm, Homilien ilber die Parabeln
miles. On the northern frontier it is separated from Gui- Jesu, 1823; Unger, De Parabolis Jesu, 1828 ; Bailey,
ana by a range of mountains, and from these the ground Exposition of the Parables, 1829 ; Schultze, De Parabo-
gradually slopes downwards to the bed of the Amazon, Us Jesu Christi, 1827 ; Lisco, Die Parabeln Jesu, 1832 ;
which traverses the country nearly due E. On the other and Trench, Notes on the Parables of Our Lord, 7th ed.
side of this river the surface again rises as it approaches 1857.)
the watershed between the Amazon and the Rio de la PARACELSUS, Philippus Aureolus Theophras-
piata; but there are no very great heights in this direc- tus Bombastus von Hohenheim, a famous alchemist and
tion. Except a few small streams, the Amazon is the only enthusiast of the sixteenth century, was the son of a phy-
river in Para that falls directly into the sea ; but it receives sician, and was born in 1493 at Einsiedeln, a small town
many large tributaries in this province, among which are of the canton of Schwitz, distant some leagues from Zu-
the Madeira, forming part of the western boundary, the rich. Although his regular education seems to have been
Tapajoz, the Chingua, and the Tocantines, which joins the but small, a keen and general curiosity was his charac-
Para or southern arm of the Amazon. The mineral wealth teristic from an early age. While still a mere boy he
of the province is considerable, though hitherto it has been made himself an adept in the juggling of the magician,
entirely neglected. Gold, iron, quicksilver, and copper the spells of the conjuror, and the arts of the alchemist,
among the metals, as well as diamonds, salt, coal, &c., He then set out, a penniless vagabond, to search through
have been found in various parts of the province; and some the world for knowledge. There was scarcely a coun-
of them in large quantities. The soil is fertile, and the try in Europe which the feet of the strolling schoolman did
surface of the country is covered in some parts with vast not visit. His cool, self-possessed countenance w'as seen
and rich plains, and in others with dense, luxuriant forests, at the universities of Germany, France, and Italy, picking
Comparatively few tracts have been brought under culture, up stray scraps of medical knowledge. His voluble tongue
and in these rice, coffee, cotton, sugar-cane, &c., are raised, was heard in the villages of Spain, Portugal, Prussia, and
The principal exports and imports of the province have Poland, wheedling mystical lore from monks, quacks, jug-
been already noticed in speaking of the town of Para, glers, and old crones. He appeared among the lonely
through which all the trade is carried on. Pop. (1856) mountains of Bohemia and Sweden, inspecting the labours
207 400. t^ie rn*ners* He was even seen accompanying the son
Para" or “ Father of Waters,” a name originally applied of the Khan of Tartary to Constantinople, to learn from a
to the Amazon, but now restricted to the southern arm of Greek the secret of the tincture or elixir of Trismegistus.
that river which receives the Tocantines from the S. It It is not known at what period he returned to Germany;
has a length of about 200 miles, and a breadth at its mouth but it appears that, about the age of thirty-three, several
of 40 It is at this mouth of the Amazon that the influ- remarkable cures which he wrought on persons of distinc-
ence of the tide is most conspicuous, producing at spring tion gave him such celebrity, that in 1526 he was on the
tides a huge wave 15 feet high. recommendation of CEcolampadius, called to fill the chair
PARABLE (napaBoXv, a comparison, from irapafSdXXav, of physic and surgery in the university of Basil. Here Para-
to compare, to collate), denotes in general any discourse celsus commenced his career by burning publicly in the
expressed in figurative, poetical, or highly ornamented die- hall the works of Avicenna and Galen ; assuring his audi¬
tion. Thus it is said, “ Balaam took up his parable^ (Num. tors, that his shoe-ties knew more than these two physicians,
xxiii. 7); and “Job continued his parable” (Job xxvii. 1). that all the universities, and all the writers united were
Under this general signification it is used in Scripture to less instructed than the hairs of his beard, and that he
denote—Is?. An obscure or enigmatical saying, as in Ps. should be regarded as the sole monarch of physic. The
xlix. 4; Ixxviii. 2. 2d. A fictitious narrative, invented for the novelty of his doctrine, the confidence with which he spoke
purpose of conveying truth in a more engaging form than of his success, the power to which he pretended of pro-
that of direct narration. Of this sort is the parable by longing his life and curing the most inveterate diseases,
Year.
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
Vessels entered.
81
88
113
114
100
92
Tonnage.
14,194
15,457
18,370
19,777
18,765
18,782
Imports.
L.
238,876
240,029
392,676
367,906
267,484
332,602
Vessels cleared.
No. Tonnage.
82
85
111
111
104
90
14,825
14,693
18,131
19,157
19,909
18,479
Exports.
L.
383,280
274,214
516,651
662,336
318,920
408,725
PAR
Paradise, and the use of the vulgar tongue in his lectures, made him
-mlj very popular. Many students crowded to hear his prelec¬
tions. Many patients came to consult him. Among others,
Erasmus, who had long suffered from gravel, applied to him;
and this circumstance led to a correspondence (which has
been preserved) between these two men, who enjoyed such
opposite kinds of celebrity. But even at Basil people soon
began to discover that the new professor was an impudent
and presumptuous quack. Scarcely had a year elapsed
when his prelections were deserted. As soon as the no¬
velty wore off, his jargon was found to be incomprehen¬
sible, and his empiricism a mere cloak for ignorance. The
sottishness of his life also became notorious. Rarely did
he appear in his lecture-room without being half-drunk,
and seldom did he dictate to his secretaries except under
the influence of wine. If called to visit a patient, he first
soaked himself with liquor. He had the custom of sleep¬
ing in his clothes, and sometimes passed whole nights in
low taverns drinking with boors. At length he happened
to assail a magistrate with the grossest abuse, and dreading
punishment for such an outrage, found himself under the
necessity of decamping from Basil towards the end of the
year 1527. The close of Paracelsus’ career, like the be¬
ginning, was spent in ceaseless wandering. He appeared at
Colmar in 1528, at Nuremberg in 1529, at St Gall in
1531, at Pfeffers in 1535, and at Augsburg in 1536. He
then made some stay in Moravia, where he once more com¬
promised his reputation by the loss of some distinguished
patients, and was in consequence obliged to take his de¬
parture for Vienna. From that capital he passed into Hun¬
gary, and in 1538 appeared at Villach, where he dedicated
his Chronicle to the states of Carinthia, in gratitude for the
favours which they had bestowed on his father. But his
stay here appears to have been short; for in 1540 we find
him at Mindelheim, whence he proceeded to Saltzburg, the
ultimate term of all his wanderings. On the 24th of Sep¬
tember 1541 he died in the hospital of St Stephen at that
place, in the forty-eighth year of his age, and in a state of
abject poverty, notwithstanding he pretended to the pos¬
session of the double secret of transmuting metals and pro¬
longing life even to the extent of several centuries.
The medical reputation of Paracelsus is not founded on
any actual discoveries, but on the importance which he
gave to pharmaceutical chemistry. By his bold language
and still bolder practice, he dispelled the prejudices of the
Galenical physicians against the productions of the labora¬
tory. Mercury was introduced into general use by him as
a cure for the venereal disease. He also seems to have
been the first who used opium both as a narcotic and as a
remedy for gout, fever, and similar diseases. Paracelsus
is likewise notable for his general services to experimental
science. How great these services were is described in
Dissertation First, part i., chap. i.
Paracelsus published very few works in his lifetime, and
those which are attributed to him exhibit so many contra¬
dictions that several of them have been ascribed to his
disciples.. It would be a useless waste of space to enume¬
rate the titles of all his works : we shall therefore content
ourselves with indicating the different complete collections.
1. The German editions, Basil, 1575, in 8vo; ibid. 1589-
1590, in 10 vols. 4to; and Strasburg 1603-1618, in 4
vols. folio. 2. The Latin editions, Opera Omnia Medico-
Chymico-Chirurgica, Frankfort, 1603, in 10 vols. 4to, and
Geneva, 1658, in 3 vols. folio. 3. The French editions,
La Grand Chirurgerie de Paracelse, Lyons, 1593 and
1603, in 4to ; and Montbeliard, 1608, in 8vo. (See Ade-
lung, Histoire de la Folie llurnaine, tom. vii.; the Bio¬
graphic Universelle, article Paracelse ; and Sprengel, His¬
toire Pragmatique de la Medecine, tom. iii.)
PARADISE (TrapaSenros), the term which, by long and
extensive use, has been employed to designate the garden
PAR 267
of Eden, the first dwelling-place of human beings. Of Paradox
this word the earliest instance that we have is in the writ- II
ings of Xenophon, nearly 400 years B.C., and his use of it ^araguayj
answers very closely to our English word park, with the
addition of gardens, a managerie, and an aviary. The real
origin of the word, however, is to be sought neither in
the Greek nor the Hebrew, but in the languages of East¬
ern Asia. “ Paradise,” says Fiirst, is “ a name common
to several oriental languages, and especially current among
the Persians, as we learn from Xenophon and Julius Pollux ;
Sanscrit, pardeesha ; Armenian, pardez ; Arabic, Jirdaus ;
Syriac, fardaiso; Chaldee of the Targums, pardeesa.”
{Concord. V. T., p. 920, Leipsic, 1840.
(For an outline of the various geographical theories which
have been advanced respecting the vexed and indetermin¬
able question of the situation of Paradise, see Appendix to
Rosenmiiller’s Biblical Geography of Central Asia, by
Rev. R. Morren, 1836.)
The term soon began to be used metaphorically for the
abstract idea of exquisite delight, and was transferred still
higher to denote the happiness of the righteous in a future
state. (See Eden.)
PARADOX (TrapdSo&s, contrary to opinion), a proposi¬
tion seemingly absurd, because at variance with some as¬
certained truth, or with some commonly-received opinion,
but which nevertheless may, on strict scrutiny, prove to be
correct.
PARAFFINE. See Peat.
PARAGUANA, a peninsula of Venezuela, in the pro¬
vince of Eoro, projects into the Caribbean Sea, and is con¬
nected with the mainland by a long and narrow isthmus;
length, about 40 miles; breadth, 35. It is hilly in the
centre, and gradually slopes towards the sea; and it is
chiefly occupied by pasture-ground.
PARAGUAY, a republic of South America, lying be¬
tween S. Lat. 27. 18. and 21. 20., W. Long. 54. 23. and
58. 46.; and bounded on the N. and E. by Brazil, and on
the S. and W. by the Argentine Republic. Its form is
nearly that of a parallelogram: its length, from N. to S.,
about 416 miles; average breadth, 180; area, 72,160 square
miles. Paraguay forms a sort of inland peninsula, being
surrounded on three sides by the River Parana, and its tri¬
butary the Paraguay, which joins it at the S.W. corner of
the state. The centre of the country is traversed from N.
to S. by a mountain-chain called the Sierra Anambahy,
which separates itself into two at its southern extremity,
forming the valley of the Tibicuary, an affluent of the
Paraguay. The whole of the rivers of this country flow
either into the Paraguay or the Parana; and as the central
mountain-chain which divides their waters is in no place
more than 100 miles from either of these rivers, the streams
of the country are more remarkable for number than for
magnitude. By far the longest and most important of these
is the Tibicuary already mentioned, which bas a tortuous
course, and waters the southern portion of Paraguay. This
southern region is a rich and beautiful country, presenting
a striking contrast to the adjacent parts of the Argentine Re¬
public. It consists of broad valleys and plains affording
excellent pasturage, undulating slopes, and hills covered
from top to bottom with magnificent forests. Lhe soil here
is very fertile; and cultivation is more extensively carried
on in this district than in any other part of the interior of
South America. White cottages may frequently be seen
in the midst of trees surrounded by cultivated fields ; but
even here it is only scattered patches of ground that are tilled.
Portions of this southern region are occupied by extensive
marshes and broad but shallow lakes. The northern and
eastern part of Paraguay is but little known. It seems to
be a rugged and mountainous country, densely covered with
forests, and watered by numerous rivers, which have many
rapids and waterfalls. In the N.E. there is a branch of
268 PARAGUAY.
Paraguay, the principal mountain-chain known by the name of the Buenos Ayres, whence they are conveyed up the river by Paraguay,
^ ^ v ^ ^ Sierra Maracaju or Maracay. Xo the of the Anambahy small schooneis to Assumption, f he means of communi-
rancre, the country, though mountainous, is not so rugged cation in the interior of the country are slow and expensive;
as that to the E.; and the rivers, rapid and impetuous as as all goods are conveyed by means of heavy bullock carts,
they are, follow a more even course to the Paraguay. Ihere aie some toleiably good roads, and several of the
Here, as in all parts of the country, we find extensive forests ; rivers might be navigated by small steamers, to the great
but the fertility of the soil is not so great. The climate, advantage of the commerce of the country. The port at
though tropical, is tempered by the irregularities of the which the greater part of the trade is cai ried on is Assump-
surface, and by the periodical rains which fall here. Ihe tion, the capital of the country. This, with Pilar and
rains, though not so abundant as in countries nearer the Encarnacion, are the only poits open to foreign commerce,
equator, serve to fertilize the country. The heat at As- Pilar, on the Paraguay, is about 180 miles below Assump-
sumption, the capital, in summer averages about 85° Fahr., tion, and was, previous to 1851, the only open port. At
thou01!) it sometimes rises to 100°, and in winter it is usually Encarnacion, on the Parana, there is no trade, as it can
about 45° ; but the temperature is much influenced by the only be reached by boats. There are several smaller ports
direction of the winds. In geological structure, the greater on the Paraguay, but these are only open to the coasting
part of Paraguay belongs to the tertiary formation; but trade, and convey all their goods to Assumption.^ The
there are also some graywacke rocks in the northern and total number of vessels that entered that port in 18o6 was
eastern portions. The productions of Paraguay are nu- 171; tonnage, 9923; value of cargoes, L.126,212. Hiose
merous, including those of tropical as well as of temperate that cleared in the same year were 190; tonnage, ll,/37 j
climates. The forests abound in many kinds of timber, value of cargoes, E.228,628. 4 he constitution of Paraguay
some of which are used for ship-building, and furnish the is in form republican, although there is little leal liberty
materials for most of the vessels that navigate the Paraguay among the people, and no liberal policy in the government,
and Parana ; while there are also many dye-woods, and trees The executive power is in the hands of a president; this
yielding valuable juices and other products; as the dragon- office being at present held by Don Carlos Antonio Lopez,
tree, the India-rubber tree, and the mate, or Paraguay tea, who was elected in 1844 for ten years, re-elected in 1854 for
from which is extracted the beverage most generally used three, and again in 185/ for seven. The legislative body
throughout South America. The last-mentioned plant, consists of a Congress, which meets once every five years,
which is about the size of an orange tree, grows wild in great The annual revenue is estimated to amount to L.150,000;
abundance in the almost impenetrable forests in the N.E. and the military forces might easily be raised to the num-
The leaves are gathered, dried, and reduced to powder; ber of 30,000. The navy consists only of a few brigan-
and they afford an ample profit to the merchants of Para- tines and gun-boats to protect the coasts. The country is
guay. The pounded leaves are infused in the same way divided into eight departments. The established religion
as the teas of China. Among the other natural products is the Roman Catholic, the hierarchy consisting of the
of Paraguay are,—indigo, cochineal, gums, wax, and medi- bishop of Assumption and a coadjutor. Education is widely
cinal plants. The principal crops raised are,—maize, rice, diffused throughout the people, and there are comparatively
mandioc, tobacco, sugar-canes, coffee, and cacao. Cotton few who cannot read and write; but the state of morals is
thrives well here, and was at one time extensively grown; but low. The aboriginal inhabitants of Paraguay were the
its culture has now been almost entirely given up. Agri- Guarani Indians; and they, along with the Mestizoes, a
culture is not in a very advanced state in Paraguay; al- mixed race of Spanish and Indian origin, still form the
though this is the occupation of the greater part of the bulk of the population. In and about the principal towns,
people. A large extent of the country belongs to the however, there are a small number of Spaniards, and there
state, and is let out in small portions to separate families, the Spanish language is coming into use, while the pre-
The prairies of Paraguay, being less extensive than those vailing dialect throughout the country is the Guarani,
of the adjacent countries, do not support very large numbers The estuary of the La Plata was discovered by the Spaniards
of cattle, but there are enough of horses, cattle, and sheep in the beginning of the sixteenth century; and they soon
to supply the wants of the inhabitants. The wild animals afterwards sailed up the river and attempted to found set-
are the same as those found in other parts of South America, tlements on its banks. After having been twice unsuc-
The jaguar, the puma, and the ocelot are the most ferocious cessful, they sent Don Pedro de Mendoza with a number
beasts ^monkeys also abound. Of birds the largest is the of ships in 1535 to establish a colony; and he, sailing up
cassowary ; and among other remarkable species are nume- the Paraguay, founded the city of Assumption, from which,
rous species of parrot and humming-bird, and several species as a centre, the Spanish extended their dominion over the
of curassows and guans. Manufactures are by no means ex- countries watered by the Parana and its affluents. Para-
tensively carried on in Paraguay. Small quantities of sugar, guay then was made a Spanish province, forming a part of
rum, mandioc flour, cotton and woollen cloth, salt, lime, the viceroyalty of Peru. The original settlers found the
bricks &c. are made for domestic use; and a few hides are Guaranis a bold and warlike people, who offered much re¬
tanned for exportation. The commerce ofthe country is not sistance to their arms. They were divided into numerous
by any means so great as it might become were a wiser policy tiibes in various stages of civilization, some living by agii-
adopted instead of the present restrictive system, and were culture and others by war and the chase. Their religion
the government to encourage and stimulate the industry consisted in the worship of two deities, a good and a bad
and enterprise of the people. At present the government spirit; and their government was in the hands of hereditary
monopolizes the exportation of the Paraguay tea, and nearly chiefs with despotic power. These tribes, after an obsti-
the whole of that of timber; so that as these articles form nate defence, weie xeduced to submission by the courage
the principal exports of the country, nearly one-halt of the and perseverance of the Spaniards. Owing to its con tain-
whole value of goods exported belongs to the government, ing none of the precious metals, Paraguay was little at-
The average annual value ofthe exports for the five years tended to by the Spanish government. The Jesuits were
ending in 1855 was L.142,826. Tlve imports consist chiefly sent into the country about the middle of the sixteenth
of cotton and woollen goods, hardware, silk, flour, wine, century for the purpose of converting the natives; but they
sugar, and salt; and about three-fourths of these articles found it impossible to make much progress, or to protect
are of British manufacture. The average annual value of the Indians against the oppression of the colonists, until the
imports, for the four years ending in 1855 was L.l 11,521. Spanish court, towards the end of the seventeenth century,
The imported goods are brought to Paraguay through granted them entire independence of the provincial autho-
PAR
Paraguay rities, along with the right to exclude all other Europeans
River from their settlements. After this, their labours were
II. attended with great success; they established numerous
Parahiba.^ m;ss;ons or communities, in which the Indians were gra-
dually reclaimed from their previous savage state to peace¬
ful and industrious habits. They had thus attained to a
state of some civilization, when in 1767 the Jesuits were
suddenly expelled from South America; and Paraguay
again became subject to the Spanish viceroys. After this
event, though some of the communities continued in exist¬
ence till a later period, the greater number fell to the
ground; and the inhabitants relapsed into a state of bar¬
barism. In 1776 Paraguay became a province of the vice¬
royalty of Rio de la Plata, which was then formed. In
1810 Paraguay rebelled against the Spanish government;
and, in the following year, without joining the confederacy of
the other Spanish states, declared its independence. Its
remote and isolated situation prevented any attempt being
made to reduce it to subjection, and it was thus the earliest
of the Argentine states that achieved its independence.
The celebrated Dr Francia, who was originally a lawyer,
and afterwards secretary to the revolutionary junta, obtained
such influence by his integrity and ability as to be ap¬
pointed dictator in 1814 for three years, and in 1817 for
life. His government, which lasted till his death in 1840,
was an absolute despotism; and has been represented by
many writers as a most cruel and capricious tyranny. His
measures, however, seem in many instances to have con¬
duced to the benefit of the country: he encouraged agri¬
culture and manufactures, composed a code of laws, esta¬
blished schools throughout the country, and raised a stand¬
ing army. He attempted to isolate Paraguay entirely from
the rest of the world, by prohibiting foreigners from enter¬
ing, and detaining all who set foot in the country, a policy
adopted by the Jesuit missionaries, and which he pursued
probably from the same motives. In judging of the con¬
tradictory accounts given of the character of his govern¬
ment, we should not forget the half-savage state in which
the most of the Paraguans were at that time. After the
death of Francia, the country was governed for two years
by two consuls; and in 1844 the present constitution was
adopted. The restrictions against foreign intercourse were
not at once removed under the new system of government;
but in 1852 a treaty was signed with the Argentine Re¬
public, and in 1853 with Great Britain, the United States,
France, and Sardinia, opening up the country to the com¬
merce of these nations. A French colony was established
in 1855 on the right bank of the Paraguay, under the
name of New Bourdeaux, but it was not encouraged by
the president of the republic, and had to be abandoned for
want of provisions in the end of the same year. The po¬
pulation of Paraguay, according to the most recent census,
was 1,200,000.
Paraguay River. See Plata, Rio de la.
PARAHIBA, or Parnahyba do Norte, a maritime
province of Brazil, bounded on the N. by the province of
Rio Grande do Norte, W. by that of Ceara, S. by that of
Pernambuco, and E. by the Atlantic. It extends along
the coast for 60 miles, stretches inland 216, and has an
area of 24,117 square miles. The surface is for the most
part mountainous, being occupied by the Cordillera-
Borborema, stretching from E. to W. along the southern
frontier, and by its numerous branches, which inclose
extensive valleys between them. Several rivers flow
through these valleys, and fall into the Atlantic; the prin¬
cipal being the Parahiba (from which the province derives
its name), the Mamanaguape, the Guaja, and the Goyanna.
About two-thirds of the surface consists of a dry sandy soil,
which is not cultivated; but near the rivers there are many
tracts of good ground, where rice and sugar-canes are
raised; and on the slopes and ridges of the hills, mandioc,
PAR 269
cotton, tobacco, &c., thrive well. The summits of the Parahiba
loftier mountains are covered with forests, which yield ex- I)
cellent timber and valuable gums and resins. On the low, Paramy-
flat country near the coast, many lofty palms grow. Cotton, thia‘
sugar, rum, timber, and other articles, are exported from
the province. The educational establishments consist of a
college and numerous elementary schools. Parahiba sends
two senators and five deputies to the legislature of Brazil.
Pop. (1856) 209,300.
Parahiba, a town of Brazil, capital of the province of
the same name, stands on the right bank of the River
Parahiba, about 16 miles above its mouth, and 65 N. of
Pernambuco. The houses, which are generally only one
storey high, are built of stone, and tiled ; and the principal
streets are well paved. The most important public build¬
ings are an old Jesuit college, now containing the governor’s
residence, house of assembly, and courts of law ; a custom¬
house, town-hall, numerous churches and convents, an
hospital, and barracks. There is also a college or lyceum,
and two elementary schools. The harbour is only accessible
to small vessels; but it is much frequented, and has an active
trade in the produce of the province. Pop. 16,000.
Parahiba, a river of Brazil, rises in the Borborema
Mountains, on the confines of Pernambuco and Parahiba,
flows N.E. and E. through the latter province, and falls
into the Atlantic by two mouths. It is 3 miles broad at
its estuary (which is defended by two forts), and has an
entire length of nearly 300 miles.
Parahiba-do-Sul, a river of Brazil, rises in the pro¬
vince of Sao Paulo, flows first W. and then N.E., parallel
to the coast, through that province and that of Rio de Ja¬
neiro, and falls into the Atlantic near a small town of the
same name, after a length of 500 miles. Its mouth is
blocked up with sand-banks, and there are many cataracts
in its course. Its chief affluent is the Pomba, from Minas
Geraes.
PARALLAX. See Astronomy.
PARALLEL, Parallelogram, and Parallelopiped.
See Geometry.
PARALLELS of Latitude, of Altitude, and of
Declination. See Astronomy.
PARALOGISM (literally false reckoning, from Trapd,
beyond, i.e., wrong, and Aoytcr/xos, a reckoning), a species of
fallacy explained thus by Kant in his Logik, § 90 :—“ A
rational reasoning which is false in form while valid in ap¬
pearance is a fallacy. Such a reasoning is a paralogism if we
are ourselves deceived by it. It is a sophism if we seek to
deceive others.” (See also Aristotle, De Sophisticis Elenchis ;
and the chapter on “ Sophisms ” in the Port-Royal Logic.)
PARALYSIS, or Palsy (-n-apaXvcn?, a relaxation), is a
peculiar disease, in which the whole body, or some part of
it, is deprived of the natural power of sensation or motion.
It is frequently but a modification of apoplexy, and proceeds
from the same causes which produce that disease.
PARAMARIBO. See Guiana.
PARAMATTA, a town of New South Wales, in the
county of Cumberland, on the Paramatta River, near where
it falls into Port Jackson, 15 miles W.N.W. of Sydney.
It is regularly laid out, and the principal street is about a
mile in length. The houses are well built of brick or free¬
stone, many of them being detached and surrounded by
gardens. It is the summer residence of the governor of
the colony; and his house occupies a fine situation on a
hill, and is surrounded by extensive grounds. There are
an observatory, an orphan hospital, two lunatic asylums,
and manufactories of salt, copper, silk, and woollen fabrics.
Communications are kept up daily with Sydney by steamers
and coaches. Pop. 4454.
PARAMYTHIA, a town of European Turkey, in Al¬
bania, stands on the sides of a rock surmounted by a castle,
32 miles S.W. of Janina. The streets are narrow and
270 PAR
Parana dirty; but they contain some fine stone fountains, and many
II of the houses have a picturesque aspect. It contains several
Parasite. churches and mosques. Pop. 5000.
^ PARANA, See Plata, Rio de la.
PARANAGUA, a town of Brazil, province of Sao
Paulo, 180 miles S.S.W. of Sao Paulo. It contains several
churches; a court-house ; a town-hall, with a prison at¬
tached to it; a custom-house, formerly a Jesuits’ college ;
several schools ; a theatre ; and an hospital. The harbour
is good, and capable of receiving large ships. An active
trade is carried on in timber, flour, rice, pulse, Paraguay
tea, cattle, &c. Pop. of the district, 7000.
PARAPET. See Glossary to Architecture.
PARAPHERNALIA is a legal term, derived ulti¬
mately from the Greek irapafapva, signifying “ that which
a bride brings over and above her dower,” and applied to
the personal attire and ornaments of a wife, which, under
certain restrictions, are considered as her own peculiar pro¬
perty. (See Husband and Wife.)
PARAPHRASE (from -napa^pa^, I add words) is the
rendering of an author’s meaning in words different from,
and generally more abundant than, his own. If it is a
foreign language which is paraphrased, the paraphrase, as
a loose, free translation, is opposed to the metaphrase, or
literal rendering of the original. I he paraphrase, in short,
partakes alike of the version and the commentary, without
belonging exclusively to either. 1 he word is sometimes
extended to poetical as well as prose translations of an
author’s meaning. fSuch are those sacred songs known
as paraphrases, which are poetical renderings of certain
passages of Scripture.
PARASANG (Gr. mpacrdyyrjs ; Persian ferseng), a
lineal measure among the Persians, frequently alluded to
by Greek writers. Owing to the original indefiniteness of
itinerary distances, it seems to have differed considerably at
different times. The estimate of its length most commonly
received is that given by Herodotus, Suidas, Hesychius, and
Xenophon, and which is equivalent to about 30 Greek stadia,
or 3f English miles. Rbdiger, in Ersch u. Gruber’s Ency-
clopadie, takes the word to be connected with the Persian
seng, a stone, in allusion to the stones which were placed
at certain intervals on the public roads in that country to
indicate distances, after the manner of our mile-stones.
PARASCENIUM. See Glossary to Architecture.
PARASITE. In modern times, we have various ex¬
amples of terms which once had a religious signification
being applied to a secular or profane interpretation. A^
pilgrimage to Rome was, in its origin, a circumstance of
earnest gravity, but such iniquity was at last connected
with it, that to “ go Roming,” as it used to be written,
was a phrase employed to depict the course of life of idle
and impure vagabonds of either sex. Again, a crusade to
the “ Sainte Terre” had a pious end in view; but, in sup¬
port of expeditions thither, the land became covered with
lazy mendicants, who lounged from village to village beg¬
ging or exacting alms in support of the enterprise in the
Holy Land. Thence these fellows, and ultimately others
of similar quality, acquired the name of Saunterers. In
like manner, when the once solemn cavalcade to the shiine
of Thomas & Becket at Canterbury, became nothing more
than groups of gay riders, who trotted easily down to the
ancient city, with set phrases of profession, and certain
practices of a different tendency, the tone and the pace
gave two words to our language which still survive,'
namely, “ cant” and “ canter,”-—the first was to talk, and the
second to ride, like the pilgrims who visited the great
shrine near which lay some at least of the bruised limbs of
the hero of his day, and the “ saint” of after times.
It has been something the same with the term parasite,
which, in its origin, signified an official of considerable
dignity in the temples of the heathen gods, but which
PAR
afterwards designated a miserable class of professional Parasite,
diners-out,—men
“ Whose flanks grew great,
Swell’d by the lard of others’ meat,”—
and which name and class did not expire till a few years
ago, when there ceased to appear among French advertise¬
ments intimations of certain individuals ready to enliven,
for duly named fees, wedding banquets; to serve as seconds
in duels, which were followed commonly by joyous break¬
fasts ; and who were always ready dressed at the dinner
hour, prepared to go to any house where, without them,
there would be “ thirteen at table.”
The parasite and ‘Coq fanatic have encountered a similar
destiny. The latter, as noticed in the article Fanaticism,
was originally he who “ performed the duties of a temple, the
religious personage, the priest, who in the temple was the or¬
gan of the god.” Subsequently, the ancients called those
“ fanatics” who passed their time in temples, and being often
seized by a kind of enthusiasm, as if inspired by the divinity,
exhibited wild and antic gestures. At present, wherever a
blind and obstinate fury in the furthering of any object has
extinguished reason, judgment, and well-directed zeal, there
is fanaticism. The parasite has as dignified an origin as
the fanatic, but the word itself has become subject to more
comic yet equally contemptuous applications. In the palmy
days of heathenism he too w'as an official in various temples,
but especially in those of Apollo and Minerva, and at the
shrine of the divine hero Hercules. The Greek words Trapa
and criros, signify literally “ near” and u corn, and they
bore the further meaning, idiomatically, of “ messmate.”
The parasites of Greece have been compared with the epu-
lones of the Latins, and in one respect some similarity may
be found. It was the custom of the Romans, not only on
certain festive occasions, but also when danger threatened
the commonwealth, to give a grand banquet {epula or lecti
sternia), in some convenient temple, to the principal gods
to whom they acknowledged allegiance. The statues of
the deities were placed on lofty couches, and before these
marble guests a sumptuous banquet was spread, provided
and solemnly served by the epulones, the duly-ordained
clerical stewards at such ceremonies. In the ranks of the
priesthood, the epulo seems to have been of equal dignity
w ith the augur; and Pliny the Younger, thinking neither of
the offices unworthy of his acceptance, once applied to Tra¬
jan to be nominated to one or the other, on the first vacancy.
The parasite, like the epulo, was an officer of the temple
tables, but after another fashion. It wras his duty to select
the corn for the sacrificial banquets, and probably for the
beasts that were to be sacrificed. He occasionally gathered
it from the “ religiously and devoutly disposed,” or he chose
it from the crops which flourished on the temple lands.
When the corn was thus got together, the parasites dis¬
tributed it to the various temples within their limits of
office, within which limits some were of more exalted dig¬
nity than others. Their trouble or zeal was rewarded by
one-third of the ox sacrificed. The other two-thirds went
to the priests, and nominally to the deities. The Latin
epulo was appointed to the office by nomination of the
head of the government. The Greek parasite was gene¬
rally elected ; he was not even chosen by lot. At Athens
twelve individuals were selected by the citizens as worthy,
and then the richest and the most noble of these were
elected as the most efficient. In some cases there were
certain tribes privileged or taxed to furnish two parasites
yearly; and we also find particular families required, when
necessary, to furnish a parasite from among their members.
In no case could the person elected or summoned refuse to
accept the office. A symptom of reluctance was imme¬
diately met by an irresistible magisterial process of com¬
pulsion, under which the individual repaired at once to his
well-known official residence, the Parasiteion.
PARA
Parasite. In some parts of Greece there existed families from
whom those then important officials, the heralds, were
chosen. From these same families were selected two para¬
sites who served in the temple of Apollo in Delos, during
a year. At the shrine of Hercules the parasites performed
monthly sacrifices with the priests ; and in some temples of
Apollo we find Acharnensian parasites exclusively engaged,
whose distribution of offerings gave one-third of the best
bulls to the games, and divided the remainder between the
parasites and the priests. Offerings of fish were accepted
by the former from the fishermen, and were similarly
divided; and in Athens one-sixth of every bushel of barley
was set apart for the table in the temple at which the
Athenian citizens feasted.
It was not alone to the temples that parasites were at¬
tached. Each archon had two, and each polemarch one, in
his suit. In course of time the fashion or custom prevailed
whereby other officials of a certain dignity appointed para¬
sites in their households; and from this may probably be
dated the commencement of the decline of this singular
branch of the priesthood in public respect. In this last em¬
ployment the parasites were, in the households to which we
allude, something like what the ordinary family chaplain was
in English country mansions at the close of the seventeenth
and beginning of the eighteenth centuries,—namely, the
flatterer, the servant-companion, and the butt of the head
of the establishment. As regular attendants at banquets,
the parasites are supposed to have first appeared in Sicily,
a locality famous for its feasts, and for the superexcellence
of its cooks. Subsequently the profession extended and de¬
graded itself, and its members became the prey of the comic
poets and the laughing-stock of the people. The parasites
of the comic drama were undoubtedly caricatures of well-
known living characters. They were to be found under
various appellations, but the parasite proper was ordinarily
accoutred in a black robe; the mask worn by the per¬
former had a comic expression; the nose was flattened,
looking in outline almost like an ace of clubs; and the ears
hung down, to indicate the frequency of the blows dealt to
the poor buffoon.
The professional parasite, who lived at the cost of his
patron for the hour, supped or dined wherever a taste of
his quality was required; and at wedding-feasts presented
himself without invitation, as knowing that he would be
welcomed for his jests. Some of the sharpest of these were
showered, with something harder than words, on the heads
of the guests who omitted to laugh at the jokes of the
master of the feast. When his own comicality was not to
the taste of the latter, the guests, in their turn, would un¬
ceremoniously kick the sorry fellow into the street, and,
by tearing to rags his only dress-suit, render him unfit for
company till he had repaired the damage. With a good
share of facetiousness, impudence, and sensuality, he could
contrive to lead a luxurious yet a precarious style of living.
For succulent repasts and a fair reward, he not only ex¬
pended jokes, but submitted to any indignity. He was
hailed by coarse names, often buffeted, and when not too
drunk himself, exercised the office of carrying out the more
drunken. From always being present at feasts, he received
the distinguished title of “ sauce occasionally, to give him
a mock dignity, a patron would lend him a slave, and, in
return, the parasite was always ready to serve as a bully,
and more or less cruelly assault such persons as had the ill
*UCTn° °Ut ^avour employer.
Ihese parasites were huge feeders ; but some of them,
in order to procure engagements the more readily, ad-
veitised their abstemiousness and their social qualities in
com ination. Chiefly, and with reason, they boasted of
eir P°'v^rs pf flattery. They would imitate the infirmi-
ics o t ieir rich employers ; and there was no habit of the
a er ever so filthy or horrible which they would not praise as
SITE. 271
something highly pleasant and worthy of laudation. Human Parasite,
nature shudders at the thought of what these officials some- v ■
times witnessed at table, and which they readily imitated or
extravagantly eulogized. They professed to have a patron
in heaven in Zevs 6 ^>tAtos; but their profane blasphemy was
astounding, some of them not hesitating to offer to princely
patrons the divine worship which was due only to the gods.
Even some of these august patrons could object to or scorn
such homage as this. We have an example in the case of
Alexander: when taking medicine with childish reluctance,
Philarches, his parasite, exclaimed, “ What must mortals
suffer when they swallow physic, if you who are a divinity
can hardly do it.” The idea of a god drawing health from an
apothecary’s phial was too much even for Alexander, who de¬
clined to acceptthe apotheosis, and called Philarches “an ass.”
There were two families in Salamis in which the offices
of parasite and spy were hereditary : the£e were the Ger-
ginoi and the Promalangoi. The former did the dirtier
work, and reported to the latter the private conversations
of citizens, which the Promalangoi at the table of the
Anactes or princes communicated with much flattery to
their masters. It was an evil fashion which has not ex¬
pired on the Continent.
The old practitioners gloried in their calling. “ Truly,”
exclaims a parasite, in a fragment of Antiphanes, “ since
the most important business of life is to play, laugh,
trifle, and drink, I should like to know where you would
find a condition more agreeable than ours ! ” On one oc¬
casion, the condition was one of great dignity, though pur¬
chased by treachery. The three parasites, or “ adorers and
flatterers” of Cnopus, King of Erythra, after murdering
their master, gained possession of the kingdom by a coup
detat, the success of which saved them from the mei’ited
fate of assassins, and raised them to the rank of heroes.
They administered a ferociously-abused sort of justice at
the gates of the city; violated every law of man, of nature,
and of God; boasted of their popularity, when they had
slain, imprisoned, or otherwise silenced every opponent;
attired themselves gorgeously in effeminate costumes; and
daily sat down to dinner, in diadems that dazzled the com¬
pany by their lustre. When these strange rulers felt, or
said they felt, light of heart, it was the duty of the city to
exhibit a corresponding joy, and if the circumstances of the
hour induced them to put on a gravity of deportment, duly
appointed officers went through the city with many-lashed
whips, and flogged the people into wearing expressions of
devout horror! It was the remark of the present Emperor
Napoleon, when writing in the Progres de Calais against
the repressive laws of Louis Philippe, that “ every despotic
government falls by the very measures which it takes to
support itself.” It was so with this extraordinary govern¬
ment of the parasites. The Erythrians ultimately plucked
up their courage, and just when the authority of the para¬
sites seemed most firmly established by the suppression of
all liberty, the exasperated and long-suffering people arose
in irresistible wrath, and swept these tyrannical parvenus
into Hades.
Thus, it will have been seen that the parasites, al¬
though they seized on royal authority, were incompetent
to retain it. Having exhibited them in so many varieties
of condition, there remains little to be added, save to re
commend those who are curious on the subject to study
the comedies of Plautus. In them the parasite figures as
necessarily as the impudent valet in a Spanish comedy. It
is worthy of remark, that Plautus jokingly calls the parasites
poetce, as being addicted to lying; and it is singular that
the Gauls named their poets “ parasites,” because of their
fondness for good living. Previous to the era of printing, the
professional parasite, with his jests, anecdotes, and histories,
was a sort of living circulating library. Saturion, one of
the examples in Plautus, professes to be tranquil in his
'll
272
P A K
Parc®.
PAR
Parasites mind, because, as he remarks, he can provide for his
daughter by bequeathing to her his rich collection of jokes
and dinner-stories. “ They are all sparkling Attic, he ex¬
claims, “ and there is not a dull Sicilian anecdote among
them.” This reference to his daughter suggests the idea
that there were female parasites, as at Christian courts theie
were not only male but official female “ fools.” However
this may have been, it is certain that the parasite, in his
more servile condition, was a personage, the fire of whose
attachment blazed up or faded according to that in the
kitchen of the Amphitryon by whom he was patronized.
In short, throughout life, the parasites worked only tor the
banquet and the wine-pot; even after death some ot them
longed for libations, as appears from the epitaph on the
parasite Sergius of Pola :—
Si, urbani, perhiberi vultis
Arenti meo cineri,
Cantharo piaculura vinarium festinate.
If you’ve any regard for this carcase of mine,
Be so good as to wet it with hogsheads of wine!
Athenaeus, in the 34th chapter of his 6th book, has cited
what may almost be termed a multitude of authors, each ot
whom affords some illustration of the parasite in his dress,
bearing, manners, morals, objects, virtues, vices, or unut¬
terable nastiness and atrocity. Instead of selecting a spe¬
cimen from a book which, even in an English form, is now
accessible to all, it will perhaps be preferable to resort to
a lively painter uncited by the diligent grammarian ot
Naucratis, and conclude with the following sketch trom
Martial, as translated by Hodgson:—
When from the bath, or hot or cold, you come,
The kind Menogenes attends you home.
When at the courts you play the healthy ball,
He picks it up adroitly, should it fall.
Though wash’d, though dress’d, he follows where it flies, l
Kecovers and returns the dainty prize,
And overwhelms you with civilities;^ /
Calls for your towel and, though more defil’d
Than the foul linen of a sickly child,
He’ll swear ’tis whiter than the driven snow ;—
Comb your lank hair across your wrinkled brow,
And, with a tone of ecstacy, he’ll swear,
“ Achilles had not such a head of hair.”
Himself will bring th’ emetic to your hand,
And wipe the drops that on your forehead stand,
Praise and admire you till, fatigued, you say,—-
“ Do, mv good friend, do dine with me to-day !
J (j. D—R—N.)
PARASITES, or Parasitic Plants. See Botany.
PARATI, a seaport-town of Brazil, province of Rio de
Janeiro, at the head of a small arm of the sea, in the Bay
of Angra dos Reis, 100 miles W.S.W. of Rio de Janeiro.
It is regularly laid out and well built, containing several
churches and schools, a town-hall, and an hospital. An ex¬
tensive trade in rum, sugar, coffee, rice, &c., is carried on.
Pop. 10,000. ^ . ,
PARCiE (Greek, MoTpai), the Fates, were variously
represented in classical mythology as the daughters o
Erebus and Nox, or of Jupiter and Themis. Their number
was generally supposed to be three: Clotho the spinner,
Lachesis the disposer of lots, and Atropos the inevita i e.
They are described under many different aspects by many
different authors. The following are some of the F>nclPal
traits of their character as it has been developed by tlie
combined representations of various ancient writers . e
three dread sisters held the universe entirely under t en
control, and executed all the purposes of nature wit i an
inexorable decision which regarded neither gods nor men.
In particular, they had unlimited power over the thread ot
human destiny. Clotho held the distaff, Lachesis twirled
the spindle, and Atropos cut the thread. 1 hey also pre¬
sided over other great events in the life of men. For ex¬
ample, on nuptial occasions they foretold in chants the for¬
tunes of the newly-wedded pair; and when any dark crime Parchim
was perpetrated, they hunted down the offender with retn- ||
bution. The Fates were generally represented by the poets Parchment,
as old women, lame, withered, savage, and ugly. There /
were shrines erected to them in many parts of Greece.
PARCHIM, a town of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, on the
left bank of the Elde, 21 miles S.E. of Schwerin. It con¬
tains a town-hall, churches, and schools. In the neighbour¬
hood there are medicinal springs and bathing establish¬
ments. Weaving, distilling, and the making of tobacco,
straw hats, &c., are carried on, as well as a considerable
trade. Pop. 6450.
PARCHMENT, the skins of animals so prepared as to
render them proper for being written upon, or used in cover¬
ing books. The skins of most animals are adapted to the
manufacture, but as the better kinds are used in making
leather, sheep-skins are preferred. The finer kind of parch¬
ment, known as vellum, is from the skins of calves, kids, and
dead-born lambs. The stout parchment of drum-heads is
from the skin of the wolf, although that of the ass or calx
is sometimes used; the parchment of battledores is from the
skin of the ass ; and that used for sieves from the skin ot
the he-goat.
The word parchment comes from the Latin pergamena,
the ancient name of this manufacture, which is said to have
been taken from the city of Pergamus. Eumenes, the
king of that place (who reigned B.C. 197-159), has the
honour of the invention ; although, in reality, that prince
appears rather to have been the improver than the inventor ot
parchment. According to Diodorus, the Persians of old
wrote all their records on skins; and the ancient lonians, as
we learn from Herodotus, made use of sheep and goat skins
in writing many ages before the time of Eumenes. Nor
need we doubt that such skins were dressed for the purpose
after a manner not unlike that in which our parchment is
prepared, though probably not so artificially.
The manufacture of parchment is begun by the skinner,
and finished by the parchment-maker. The skin having
been stripped of its wool and placed in the lime-pit, the skin¬
ner stretches it on a wooden frame, called a herse, consist¬
ing of four bars perforated with holes, in each of which is
a peg. Pieces of twine, extending from the edges of the
skin to the pegs, retain the skin in an extended state, in
which the skinner pares it with a knife, called, from its
shape, a half-moon knife. This being done, it is moistene
with a rag; and powdered chalk being spread over it on
the flesh side, the skinner takes a large pumice-stone, flat
at the bottom, rubs over the skin, and thus scours off the
flesh : this is called grinding. He then goes over it again
with the knife, moistens it as before, and rubs it
with the pumice-stone without any chalk underneath, by
which means the flesh side is considerably smoothed
softened. He then again passes the knife over it, which is
called draining. The flesh side being thus drained, by
scraping off the moisture, he in the same manner passes the
knife over the grain side, and then scrapes the flesh side
again. This finishes the draining; and the more it is
drained, the whiter it becomes. The skinner now throws
on more chalk, sweeping it over with a piece of lamb-skin
which has the wool on; and this smooths it still farther.
It is then left to dry, and when dried, taken off the frame
by cutting it all round. Hie skin, being thus far prepared
by the skinner, is taken out of his hands by the parchment-
maker, who first, whilst it is dry, pares it on a sumner, or
calf-skin stretched in a frame, with a sharper instrument
than that used by the skinner ; and, working with the arm
from the top to the bottom of the skin, takes away about
one-half of its thickness. The skin, being thus equally
pared on the grain side, is again rendered smooth by being
rubbed with the pumice-stone on a bench covered with a
sack stuffed with flocks, which leaves the parchment in a
PAR
Pardon condition fit for writing upon. Should any small holes ap-
|| pear in the skin, they are stopped by cutting the edges thin
Pardubitz. anj laying on small pieces of parchment with gum-water.
The parings taken off the skins are used in making glue,
size, and the like.
The green parchment used in book-binding is coloured
by means of verdigris, for which purpose thirty parts ot
crystallized verdigris, and eight parts of cream of tartar, are
boiled in 500 parts of distilled water ; when the solution is
cold, four parts of nitric acid are added. I he parchment
is moistened with a brush ; the colour is spread evenly over
it; and, when dry, polish is given by means of white of egg
or gum-arabic. (c> T•)
PARDON, in Criminal Law, is the remitting or for¬
giving an offence committed against the king.
Law, says Beccaria, cannot be framed on principles of
compassion to guilt; yet justice, by the constitution ot
England, is bound to be administered in mercy. This is
promised by the king in his coronation oath ; and it is that
act of his government which is the most personal and most
entirely his own. The king condemns no man ; that un¬
pleasant task he leaves to his courts of justice t the great
operation of his sceptre is mercy. His power of pardon¬
ing was said by the Saxons to be derived a lege suee dig¬
nitatis ; and it is declared in Parliament, by stat. 27 Henry
VIII., c. 24, that no other person has power to pardon or
remit any treason or felonies whatsoever, but that the king
has the whole and sole power thereof, united and knit to
the imperial crown of this realm.
It is impossible to lay down any abstract rules for the
administration of mercy. Each case must be judged of
according to its own circumstances.
That human nature is such as in the aggregrate to need
control, no one who is acquainted with it will deny; and
there appears to be no other method of controlling man¬
kind but by general laws; but then, through the natural
imperfection of human affairs, they may be cruel in one
case while they are just in another. Cases may likewise
occur where the sentence of the law, without its execu¬
tion, will answer every purpose which could be expected
from it, and where the execution of it would be extreme
cruelty, although it might in strict language be called
justice, because in conformity with the letter of the law.
Yet though such cases may and do often occur, it would
be absurd to abolish any of those laws which the secu¬
rity of civil society has required; and therefore the only
mode of regulating their operation in criminal matters
seems to be the system of absolute or conditional pardons.
It is possible to define a particular crime, and to annex
a particular punishment to the commission of it; while the
moral guilt of criminals may vary. The real guilt consists
not in the external action, but in the motives which
prompted to it. Definite law, however, cannot always make
such distinctions; besides, after the sentence of the law is
pronounced, circumstances may emerge which present the
case in a very different aspect from what it previously bore.
Then there are what may be called accidents of the case,
which could not be previously defined. To particularize
and define, in laying down a law, every mode of an action
which imagination can conceive, or which experience has
shown us may happen, is utterly impossible ; and therefore
it seems equitable that there should be a power vested
somewhere to modify and control, or even to discharge
altogether, the judgments of the law in criminal cases ;
and that power in this country is judicially vested in the
sovereign in council, or in Parliament by acts of indemnity.
It is not exercised so as to affect the private rights of third
parties ; and therefore, though the manslayer may be par¬
doned, the private right of the next of kin to damages is
not thereby prejudiced.
PARDUBIIZ, a town of Bohemia, circle of Chrudim,
VOL. XVII.
PAR 273
stands at the confluence of the Elbe and the Chrudimka, Pare
13 miles S. by W. of Koniggratz. It has a castle sur- II
rounded with walls and ditches, an imperial stud, linen fac- 1>aren_t and
tories, copper and iron forges, and a population of 4150. v ^
PARE, Ambroise, the father of French surgery, was
born at Laval, in the province of Maine, in 1509, and died
in 1590. A collection of his works was published at
Paris in 1561, and was afterwards frequently reprinted.
Several editions have also appeared in German and Dutch.
Among the English translations was that of Thomas John¬
son, London, 1634. (For an account of Fare’s professional
career and services, see Surgery.)
PAREDES-DE-NAVA, a town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Palencia, stands on a pestilential lake, 16 miles
N.W. of Palencia. The parish church of St Eulalia con¬
tains some carvings by Alonso Berruguete, who introduced
the cinque-cento style into Spain. There are also a town-
hall, prison, nunnery, several schools, and an hospital.
Manufactures of woollen stuffs and serges are carried on.
Pop. 6014.
PAREJA, Juan de, a Spanish painter, was by descent
a mulatto slave, and was born at Seville in 1606. His
knowledge of art was acquired in a singular manner. Be¬
coming at an early age the bond servant of Velasquez,
he was employed to do the menial work in the studio of
that great artist. The daily sight of the creations of genius
coming out in form and beauty on the blank canvas kin¬
dled within him an inextinguishable love of art. During
the day he eagerly watched his master’s hand, and during
the night he stealthily practised with his master’s brushes.
Thus, after many years of clandestine assiduity, he attained
to no mean skill in painting. Equally singular with this
manner of acquiring excellence was Pareja’s manner of
divulging it. Knowing that the king, Philip IV., would
visit the studio on a certain day, he hung up a picture of
his own among his master’s, with its face to the wall, and
loitered close by to wait for the result. The king turned
the picture, and admired it ; Velasquez in surprise dis¬
claimed all knowledge of the painter ; and then the slave,
dropping down on his knees before his Majesty, confessed
his secret studies, and obtained on the spot not only for¬
giveness, but also freedom. Pareja proved himself a grate¬
ful freedman. During the remainder of Velasquez’s life
he continued in the house in the two-fold character of an
attendant and a scholar. Then he transferred his services
to his master’s daughter, and remained with her till his death
in 1670. A large picture by Pareja, entitled “The Calling
of St Matthew,” is in the royal gallery of Spain, and is re¬
markable for its successful imitation of the colouring and
manipulation of Velasquez. (Stirling’s of Spain.)
PARENT AND CHILD. Children born in wedlock,
or within a competent time after its dissolution, are legitimate.
In some countries legitimacy is conferred on children by the
marriage of their parents to each other subsequent to the
birth of the children (see Husband and Wife) ; or, in cer¬
tain circumstances, is admitted where no marriage was, or
could lawfully be, entered into. Children born in other cir¬
cumstances are called illegitimate. By the law of England,
children born before marriage are incapable of succeeding
to their father’s English property except by will, even al¬
though they were born in a country which recognises
legitimation by a subsequent marriage; and the same rule
exists in reference to children born after the marriage of a
British subject to his deceased wife’s sister, though it take
place in a country where such a marriage is lawful. In
Scotland, a subsequent lawful marriage removes the legal
stain of bastardy. Scotch institutional writers are not
agreed as to the principle on which it does so. Some sup¬
pose that, by a legal fiction, the marriage is held to have
occurred prior to the birth; while others, on better grounds,
think it results from the expediency of converting what was
2 M
274 PARENT A
Parent and at first an irregular into an honourable relationship. The
Child, former necessarily hold) that if either of the parents con-
tracted an intermediate marriage with a third party, the fic¬
tion was destroyed, and the children remained illegitimate ;
while the latter, discarding the fiction altogether, main¬
tain that when the intermediate marriage is dissolved, the
Scotch law permits the parents to marry, for the express
purpose of putting an end to illicit intercourse, and of con¬
ferring legitimacy on the children previously born. lies
last may now be regarded as the law of Scotland, unless
the birth be the result either of incestuous or (probably)
of adulterous intercourse. To confer the privilege of legi¬
timation, the subsequent marriage must take place when
the father has his domicile in Scotland, or in a country
which holds, in this respect, a similar law ; for if he be
domiciled at the time of the marriage in England, or in any
country, the law of which, like that of England, does not
recognise such a mode of legitimation, the children will
continue to be regarded as bastards in Scotland, and dis¬
qualified to succeed as heirs to their father. So entirely
does this mode of legitimation in Scotland depend on the
father’s domicile at the date of the marriage, that although
both the birth and the marriage occur in Scotland, if the
father be domiciled in England at the time of the maniage,
the children born previously to the marriage remain illegiti¬
mate. On the other hand, and on the same principle,
though both the birth and the subsequent marriage take
place in England, yet if at the time the father’s domicile
be in Scotland, the children will be regarded as lawful child¬
ren in Scotland; and it is probable that they would be
so regarded though only the subsequent marriage occuned
when the father’s domicile was in Scotland. A father do¬
miciled in England at the time of his marriage there to a
woman bv whom he has previously had children, and aftti-
wards acquiring a Scotch domicile, cannot confer legitimacy
on such children by his again going through in Scotland
the ceremony of marriage with their mother.
The obvious result of this difference between the law of
England and Scotland is the incongruous one, that if a
father domiciled in Scotland die intestate, leaving estates in
both countries, and two sons, both by the same mothet, the
one born before and the other after his marriage with her,
the son born before the marriage will succeed to the Scotch
estate, and the son born after it will succeed to the English
estate, each in the character of being his father’s eldest law¬
ful son in these countries respectively. If the one of these
sons who was born before the marriage had died before
his father, leaving a child, such child, as representing
its father, acquires all the rights which its father would have
acquired in Scotland had he survived, to the exclusion of
the son first born after the marriage, and his heirs ; and this
although the marriage does not take place till af ter the death
of the son who was born before it.
In all these cases of legitimacy by subsequent marriage,
it is necessary that the husband acknowledge himself to be
the father. The acknowledgment, if distinct, need not be
in any specific form. It may even be inferred from t ie
conduct of the father,—such as his presence at the child s
baptism, or receiving the child into his family and treating
it as his own. ,
A question has arisen whether, in any case, children can
be legitimate where their parents went through the cere¬
mony of marriage, but could not have been lawfully mai
vied? If a man and woman go through the ceremony of
marriage with each other, knowing that they are disqua itiec
by relationship, their children will remain illegitimate, even
although the legality of the marriage may not have been
called in question during the lifetime of the parents. But
what if the parents acted in blameless ignorance ? Of
course, on the discovery of the disqualification, the marriage
may be annulled as being unlawful; but if it were entered
ND CHILD.
into innocently, the legitimacy of the offspring is secured Parent and
by the good faith of the parents. Accordingly, in Scot- Child. |
land, the good faith of both parents was held to save
the rights of the children in a case which occurred more
than a hundred years ago. The jurist who reported that
judgment gave it as his opinion, that the good faith of
either of the parents would have led to the same result;
and this point became the subject of litigation within the
present century, but unfortunately the claimant died be¬
fore judgment could be pronounced. T his doctrine is not
new. At a period prior to the Reformation, when impe¬
diments to marriage were absurdly extended, it was some¬
times discovered, after children were born, that their legi¬
timacy was doubtful; and it became more reasonable to
support the legitimacy than to bastardize children^ who
were begotten in utter absence of any intention to violate
the law. After the Reformation the Commissary Court in
Scotland acted in accordance with this view.
The presumption in favour of the legitimacy of children
born in wedlock is so strong, that it can only be overcome
by evidence leading to the conclusive conviction that the
husband is not the father. The presumption is against the
legitimacy if the parents were entirely separated between
eleven solar and six lunar months antecedent to the birth.^
The most open adultery of a married woman will not of itself
bastardize her offspring, unless it be rendered credible by
other facts and circumstances that her husband is not the
father. Even the united declaration of both husband and
wife, that the husband is not,the father, though always im¬
portant, is insufficient, because they may be acting collusiveJy
and falsely for improper purposes. But if, in addition to the
manifest adultery of the wife, with the admission, probably,
of the paternity by a third party, there are circumstances
which seem to infer that a child was not lawfully begotten,
then the declaration of the parents will become matter of
grave consideration. Looking to the whole conduct of the
married pair, prior and subsequent to the birth, the House
of Peers has on more than one occasion found it morally
impossible to believe in the legitimacy of a child, and has
therefore given judgment against it, even where the physi¬
cal possibility was not absolutely excluded. In one of these
cases, the married pair dwelt near each other, but then
the birth was studiously, and for a considerable peiiod suc¬
cessfully, concealed from the husband, while the paternity
was acknowledged by another man with whom the woman
had been intimate, and who bequeathed his whole piopeity
to the child. Some circumstances extinguish the plea of
legitimacy at once; as, if the child were a Mulatto, the hus¬
band being a white man. No reliance is placed on family
resemblance, as being too fanciful; though in one case the
House of Peers heard an argument partly founded on that
circumstance.
We shall now briefly notice,—The duties of parents
to their lawful children ; 2d, The powers of parents over
their children ; 3d, The duties of children to their parents ;
and 4th, The duties and obligations between parents and
illegitimate children.
L The Duties of Parents.—In every civilized country a
father is obliged, if he be able, to support his children, and
to train them to be able to support themselves. This is
the dictate of nature. It is scarcely possible, however, for
a court of law to interfere with the details of the father’s
management, unless it be obviously cruel or immoral. In
regard to education of children, it has been thought that,
except in extreme cases, “ there is no farther obligation
than what nature has implanted” in the father’s breast. R
the father be dead, and the child is in the custody of tutors,
courts of law find no difficulty in interfering, wherever it
appears that the child is being reared in a manner un¬
suitable to its position and prospects. When children have
attained an age at which, under ordinary circumstances,
PARENT AND CHILD. 275
arent and they should be able to support themselves, the father’s
child, obligations cease, unless they become disabled by acci-
s—J dent or disease; and then the father, if able, is bound to
provide them with necessaries only, and nothing more. If a
father, being able, refuses to aliment his children, whereby
they become chargeable to the parish, he is punished by
fine and imprisonment, under the statute 8 and 9 Viet., c. 83,
§ 80. It is not the policy of law to tempt children to lead
idle lives. A gentleman of fortune, however, will hardly
be relieved of his obligation to support his son on his being
qualified to become a lawyer or a physician, because, by
training his son to any such profession, the father virtually
undertakes to maintain him until he can support himself
by it. Still more, if a wealthy father were not to train his
son to any profession or trade whatever, he raises against
himself an obligation to support him beyond majority, it he
be otherwise destitute. If the father be incapacitated to
support his minor children, his duties fall first on the
mother, if she have independent means of her own, and
next on the father’s nearest ascendant, going backward
according to their ability, rather than on the parish, with a
right of relief against the father of the children if he after¬
wards become possessed of means. But a grandfather is
not bound to support his indigent daughter-in-law. The
obligation of support ceases in the lower ranks when child¬
ren are able to support themselves by labour; and in the
upper ranks, when they obtain the means,—as when a son
gets a commission in the army,—unless he is thereafter in¬
capacitated by some blameless cause, as a stroke of palsy,
in which case the father is the sole judge as to how and
where the support shall be given. It has been decided by
the House of Peers that the amount of aliment in such a case
“ is, support beyond want, and all that is beyond that, is
left to parental affection.” Under all circumstances, a
child drawing profits from any source is bound to bear his
own expenses so far as he is able, but he is not bound to
repay what his father may have expended on him out of
any property which he may subsequently succeed to or
acquire. If a wealthy father neglect his duty to a disabled
son, a third party supplying him with necessaries has a
good action against the father for payment; but not the
lender of money, unless he prove that it was truly expended
in providing what should have been provided by the father.
If, in advancing money to a son, to enable him to purchase
a commission or to enter into business, the father take a
voucher for it, or enter it in his books against the son, a debt
rather than a donation will be implied. If a father become
bankrupt, his obligations to support his children are altogether
subordinated to his obligations to pay his other lawful debts ;
so that children cannot be ranked like ordinary creditors on
their father’s estate, excepting in certain cases where a
credit has been created in their favour, as by an antenuptial
contract of marriage. If an heir succeed to an estate
through his father, and the latter have left children in
poverty, the obligations of the father are transferred to the
heir. This results, not from relationship, because a man is
not bound in law to support his brother or sister, and still
less more remote relatives, but from the heir representing,
and taking possession of the estate of, his ancestor. In
such a case, the liability of the heir does not exceed the
liability of the ancestor, had he survived. Every such case,
however, must be governed by its own circumstances. For
example, if a father die, leaving several sons and daughters,
and an estate clogged with debt, the daughters, like
their brothers, must betake themselves to some employ¬
ment ; while the heir of a large unburdened estate is
liable to support his sisters, if they have not been trained
to work, until their marriage. On that event, the obligation
expires.
I he law of England does not prevent a father from dis¬
inheriting his children. The Roman law allowed him to
do so only if he could show a sufficient reason. In Scotland Parent and
the father can disappoint his heir of his unentailed lands by Child,
the expedient of giving them to the person he desires to
prefer, in terms implying a present conveyance, under re¬
servation of his (the father’s) liferent, and power at any time
to revoke the deed. Such a deed, if unrevoked, receives
effect at his death.
2. The Powers of Parents.—At one period the Roman
law set no limits to the parental authority; and though it
subsequently did so, it never interfered with the father’s
right to the whole of his child’s earnings. By the laws of
England and Scotland the father is entitled to the custody
of his children, even though he may have violated his con¬
jugal duties, except in the extreme cases already hinted
at; and he has a right to inflict that moderate degree of
chastisement which is necessary to secure obedience, and
to promote the real welfare of his minor children. After
their majority, if they require assistance, he may exact
residence in his family as the condition of granting it. So
long as they reside in family with their father, he has a
right in England to the profits of their industry, and in
Scotland to such profits to the extent of the expense which
they occasion to him. The father is tutor to his children
while in puberty, and their curator thereafter until their
majority. In the former capacity, he acts for them ; and in
the latter, with them. No legal proceedings are necessary
to invest a father in these offices; and he is not required,
like a stranger, to take the oath to act faithfully, nor to
find security for his intromissions, unless he be insolvent.
No deed by a minor is binding if it be disapproved of by
the father,—not even articles of apprenticeship,—although
to such a deed his consent may be implied from his tacit
acquiescence for a length of time to his child remaining in
the service. A minor, although living independently on
his own fortune, cannot grant leases, remove tenants, or sell
or burden his lands, without his father’s express consent;
because the parental guardianship is designed to supply
the immaturity of the child’s judgment and experience.
Without such consent, the minor’s bond or bill for borrowed
money affords no ground of action, after his majority,
to a greater extent than the sum which the creditor can
prove was applied to the profitable uses of the minor.
Unsuitable furnishings to a minor never afford a good ground
of action against him ; and if he have no means of his own,
even furnishings which are suitable in their own nature
constitute a debt, not against the minor, but against his
father, unless the father have previously sufficiently sup¬
plied the minor. It is the duty of third parties to make
inquiry before giving credit to a minor. Where the minor
is not residing in the family of his father, these rules may
not be so strictly enforced against the merchant; but in
no ease will an action lie for unsuitable furnishings, nor for
necessaries too frequently given, unless they may eventually
become available to the minor. A minor is not entitled
to restitution for the loss he may have suffered from
his unsuitable purchases with cash, the father or guardian
being to blame for having allowed him the command of
the money, whereby the merchant may have been thrown
off his guard. And if a minor be so nearly major that the
merchant might be mistaken as to his age, and he fraudu¬
lently imposes on the merchant by pretending that he has
attained majority, and thus gets credit, the minor, by his
fraud, will create a debt against himself for which he may
be justly sued in majority.
The father’s right of administration in reference to' any
estate to which his children may succeed by the will of a
third party, is excluded wherever the granter either gives
the administration to another, or simply excludes that of the
father. In this last case, the court will appoint a guardian
in reference to such estate. The marriage of a minor
daughter puts an end to the guardianship of her father, and
276
PAR
PAR
Parent and transfers it to her husband; and it is excluded wherever
Child, the child has an action at law against the father, and where-
ever the father has an interest adverse to the child: the
court in these cases appoints a curator.
One cannot here help noticing a remarkable difference
between the laws of England and Scotland in this respect,
that in England the consent of the father is required to
prevent the marriage of a minor from being invalidated,
while in Scotland such consent is not required. Somewhat
inconsistently with itself, the law of Scotland requires the
father’s approval of very unimportant transactions on the
part of a minor, and yet allows a girl of twelve years of age
and a boy of fourteen to enter into the contract of marriage,
on which the happiness of their lives may depend, without
the concurrence or advice of any guardian whatever.
In England and in Scotland both sexes are enfranchised
at the age of twenty-one.
3. The Duties of Children to their Parents. — These
are very strongly written on the heart, though it is not
always easy for human laws to enforce them. Children
should yield to their parents obedience in youth, and affec¬
tion and reverence through life. I he maltreatment of
parents by children is justly punished as an aggravated
offence. Some of the duties of children are not extin¬
guished even though their parents may be the reverse of
exemplary. For instance, children are bound at all times, if
able, whatever the character or conduct of their parents
may have been, to support them when indigent, in return
for the support which they (the children) received in
infancy; and this altogether independent of the question,
whether they succeeded to any property through their
parents or not. 1 he obligation of a child to suppoit, it able,
his indigent mother, does not depend on his representing
his father, as it does in the case of brothers or sisters. It
is a natural obligation, incumbent on himself according to
his ability, and which the law will enforce.
4. Of the Duties and Obligations beticeen Parents and
Illegitimate Children.—These are very inferior to those
above referred to. At one time, the bastard was treated as
if he had been a delinquent. For example, unless he had
heirs of his own body, he could not make a testament
without letters of legitimation from the crown; but this
disability was removed by the statute 6 Will. IV., c. 22.
At present, a bastard cannot succeed to his father, except
by will. In England the rights of an illegitimate child “ are
only such as he can acquire, for he can inherit nothing, be¬
ing looked on as the son of nobody.”
In Scotland, as in England, so far as succession is con¬
cerned, the illegitimate child is regarded as having no
father; and therefore, on the one hand, he is not his father’s
heir, and on the other, the father has no right to the custody
of, neither has he a right to act as administrator at law to, the
unfortunate infant. It follows that the father cannot appoint
tutors or curators, or guardians of any kind, to his illegiti¬
mate child, unless he leave property by special deed to him;
in which case he can only appoint guardians in reference to
the property left, on the same footing with a person leaving
property by will to a stranger. The law compels the father,
when the paternity is ascertained, to contribute along wit i
the mother for the support of the bastard; the amount,
which is only for “ support beyond want,” varying a little
with the rank and condition ot the parents, and nevei lor
a longer period than until the child attain an age at which
it is able to work for itself; tbe mother till then being
entitled to the custody of the child. I he lather can only
exclude the mother’s right to the custody by proving that
she is an improper person for such a trust, or is guilty of
cruelly maltreating the child. Even her right to the cus¬
tody expires on her illegitimate son becoming seven, and
her illegitimate daughter ten years of age; and then the
father may, if he wish it, make his right to have the custody
Parga.
a condition of his giving farther aliment, unless the mother Parent-
can show (which at these tender years is not always diffi- Duchatelet
cult) the existence of circumstances sufficient to justify an
extension of her right. Practically no aliment is awarded
by law after bastards have reached twelve or sixteen years.
If the father be dead, his executors cannot at any period
demand the custody from the mother. The father is not
liable to third parties for any debts which the mother of
illegitimate children may contract on account of their up¬
bringing ; and on the other hand, he cannot claim any por¬
tion of the gains which may be acquired through their
talents or industry. But if they be residing in family with
their father, he may take such gains to the extent of the
expense which they occasion. So little is there of mutual
obligation between these parties, that if the illegitimate
child make no claim on the father, the father has no power
whatever over the child; and the illegitimate child is not
liable, though he be able, to support his indigent father.
The mother, however, stands in a very different position.
The relationship between her and her illegitimate child is
at least indisputable; and therefore the child is bound, if
able, to support her when in poverty, according to the rules
by which lawful children are bound to support their mother.
For the same reason, though a bastard does not succeed to
his father’s estate, he does so to his mother’s. A man
is not bound to support his son’s bastards. Failing their
father and mother, they must be supported in infancy by
the parish of their mother’s settlement. The Poor Law
Act, 8 and 9 Viet., c. 83, § 80, renders a father liable to
fine not exceeding L.10, or imprisonment not exceeding
60 days, who leaves a bastard, acknowledged or proved to
be his, to become chargeable on the parish. (m. l.)
PARENT-DU CHATELET, Alexis-Jean-Baptiste,
a sanitary reformer, was born in Paris in 1/90, and was
educated for the medical profession. After piactising for
some time as a doctor in the French capital, he directed
his attention to the subject of public health. Actuated by
pure philanthropy, and undeterred by any considerations of
personal comfort and health, he visited all those places
where noisome effluvia were daily killing their unconscious
victims. Common sewers, tobacco manufactories, pyrolig¬
neous acid factories, burying-grounds, and dissecting-rooms,
all came under his scientific inspection, and were described
to the public in a great number of pamphlets. His last
investigation was upon the prostitution of the capital. A
report of it was published in 1836, the year in which he
died. . ....
PARGA, a town of European Turkey, in Albania,
stands on a rocky peninsula on the shore of the Mediter¬
ranean, nearly opposite the island of Paxo, 47 miles S.W.
of Janina. The streets are narrow and dirty; and the
ground on which the town is built is so steep, that from the
sea the houses look as if they stood on the top of one another.
On the summit of the hill is a small but strong castle, from
which a fine view may be obtained along the sea-coast and
into the adjacent country, which is fertile and beautiful,
abounding in olives, gardens, and citron groves. Parga
has a harbour, defended by a small fortified island; and
carries on a considerable export trade in oil, wine, fruit,
and tobacco. It has played a part of some importance in
history since the beginning of the fifteenth century. It
maintained its independence, under the protection of
Venice, from this period till the fall of the Venetian power
in 1797, when it was for a short time garrisoned by the
French. Ali Pasha, the governor of Albania, besieged it
in 1814; and as the French would not defend them, the
inhabitants applied for aid to the British, who took possession
of the fortress. Parga was finally given up to Turkey by
the treaty of 1817; but the inhabitants, not wishing to
come under the Ottoman sway, migrated to Corfu and Paxo.
The town was then occupied by the Turks. Pop. 4000.
PAR
Parhelia PARHELIA. See Chromatics, Meteorology, and
|| Optics, part viii. .
Parini. PARI A, Gulf of, an inlet of the Atlantic Ocean, on
the coast of Venezuela, between the island of d rinidad and
the mainland. Its form is nearly rectangular ; and it is about
100 miles long by 40 broad. On the N. it^is separated
from the Caribbean Sea by a peninsula about 70 miles long,
projecting from the continent, and terminating in Cape
Punta de la Pena, or Paria. Between this headland and
Trinidad, about 20 miles off, there are three rocky islands,
forming four straits, the widest of which, called the Dia-
gon’s Mouth, lies nearest the mainland, and is about 6
miles across. A strong current runs northwards through
all the straits, and the tides are also very powerful; so that
ships can only enter with a strong breeze. The southern
entrance, about 10 miles wide, between Cape Punta Icacos
in Trinidad and the delta of the Orinoco, is so obstructed
by a sand-bank as to leave only a narrow passage for ships.
This channel is called the Serpent’s Mouth. The depth of
the gulf varies from 3 to 30 fathoms, and the anchorage is
everywhere good; so that it forms one of the best harbours
in the world.
PARIAN CHRONICLE. See Arundelian Mar¬
bles.
PARIAS, or Pariahs, a word derived from the name
Parriar in the Deccan, is employed to designate one of
the best known and the most degraded of the impure classes
of the Hindus, amounting, it is said, to one-fifth of the
whole population of Hindustan. They act as scavengers,
porters, and hostlers, and generally sell themselves, with
their wives and children, to the farmers, who treat them
with the utmost severity. They belong properly to no
caste, and are supposed to be descended from original oc¬
cupiers of the soil of India, long since overcome by foreign
invasion.* They live apart from the other inhabitants, who
hold them in great abhorrence, and subject them to the
meanest and most degrading drudgery.
PARIMA, Sierra, a chain of mountains between Ve¬
nezuela and Brazil, extends in a S.W. direction from the
western extremity of the Sierra Pacaraima, between N.
Lat. 4. and 6. 30., W. Long. 64. and 67. They seldom
rise higher than 1800 or 2000 feet from the sea; and many
of the summits are only 500 or 600 feet in height. In
geological structure, the base of the mountains is believed
to be of granite, while trap and quartz rocks are also met
with. Many of them are bare and rocky, or covered only
with grass. The rivers Orinoco and Parima take their
origin in this range ; the latter flowing first E., then S.,
and falling into the Rio Negro, an affluent of the Amazon.
PARINI, Giuseppe, an eminent Italian poet, was born
in the district of Bosisio, in the Milanese territory, in 1729.
Although brought up in the midst of poverty, and com¬
pelled to earn a scanty livelihood by copying manuscripts,
he cultivated his poetical faculty with distinguished success.
In 1752 he published a volume of anacreontic poems, a
book which showed a remarkable lyrical talent ; and in
1763 he produced the first part of his Giorno, a work
which described in a fine vein of irony the frivolous occu¬
pations and insipid amusements of an Italian nobleman’s
day, and which raised the author to the position of one of
the greatest moral poets of his native country. This suc¬
cess was the means of placing Parini in several high public
offices at Milan; and he was thus enabled to appear to
great advantage in more characters than that of a poet.
In the chair of belles lettres in the Palatine schools, and
in the chair of eloquence in the College of the Brera, he
proved himself to be a clear, precise, learned, and successful
teacher. In the office of magistrate, to which he was ap¬
pointed by Bonaparte, he also showed all the liberal-minded
sagacity and cool intrepidity of one of the great citizens of
classical times. The death of Parini took place in 1799.
PAR 277
His works were published in 6 vols. 8vo, Milan, 1801-4 ; Paris,
and in 2 vols. 8vo, Milan, 1825.
PARIS, the capital of France, situated on the river
Seine, about 110 miles in direct distance from its mouth,
in N. Lat. 48. 50. 49., E. Long. 2. 20. 15. It is in the
department of the Seine, of which it is the chief town, and
is distant about 210 miles S.S.E. from London, and 159
S.S.W. from Brussels.
Paris takes its name from the Parisii, a Gallic tribe,
whose chief town, called by themselves Loutouhezi (i.e.,
a dwelling surrounded by water), and by the Romans Lu-
tetia, stood on the island now known as La Cite. It is first
mentioned in history as the place where, in b.c. 54, Julius
Caesar convoked an assembly of the Gallic tribes. In the
following year, when these tribes revolted under Vercinge-
torix, the Parisii were among the foremost to take up arms.
Though they made a desperate resistance, and set fire to
their city to save it from falling into the enemy’s hands,
they were finally subdued ; and in the distribution of Gaul,
were incorporated in the province of Lugdunensis Quarta.
For 400 years after this date the name of Lutetia is hardly
mentioned, except by the geographers. In a.d. 360 it
became associated with the name of Julian the Apostate,
who fortified the He de la Cite, and built on the mainland
the Thermae Juliani (a palace with baths, of which the ex¬
tensive remains are still in excellent preservation), besides
other edifices on both sides of the river. At this time, or
even earlier, Lutetia was a bishop’s see. According to
one account, St Denis, the patron saint of France, suffered
martyrdom at Paris about the middle of the third century.
To the Romans succeeded the Franks, who, under Clovis,
seized Paris in 494. Most of this monarch’s successors
fixed their abode there, and, having embraced Christianity,
founded many churches and abbeys, and otherwise enlarged
and embellished the town. Under the Merovingians, Paris
rose to considerable importance, being regarded by the
Salian or Neustrian Franks as the capital of their dominions.
In 574 it was burned to the ground in a war waged^ by
Sigebert, King of Metz, against his brother Chilperic, King
of Soissons. By the princes of the Carlovingian line Paris
was neglected, and its fortifications allowed to fall into
decay. On this account, when it was attacked by the
Northmen in 841, it fell an easy prey. Fifteen years later,
the Normans again appeared before the ruined walls, and
burnt some of the churches, holding the rest to ransom.
In 861 a third invasion of these northern pirates, attended
with the same results as before, showed the necessity of
putting the town in a state of defence. Phis was done by
Charles le Chauve, and so effectually, that when tl j Nor¬
mans assaulted the city for the fourth time in 885, th( y were
completely foiled, and only escaped destruction by con¬
cluding with Charles le Gros a treaty which cost that mo¬
narch his crown. The vacant throne was then offered to
Count Eudes or Otho, in whose family it became hereditary
in the person of Hugo or Hugues Capet! in 987. This
monarch chose Paris for his residence ; and from that time
the city became the capital of the kingdom of France. In
the reign of Louis VI. (Le Gros), the Louvre was rebuilt,
the Palais de Justice was commenced, and the fortresses of
Le Grand and Le Petit Chatelet were constructed to com¬
mand the bridges that joined the Cite with the mainland.
The fame of Paris as a seat of learning began to spread,
and many new streets were erected for the students who
flocked thither in crowds. Ten men sufficed, however, to
collect all the taxes; and the duties levied at the North
Gate produced under Louis VI. only 12 francs a year, or
about 600 francs of present money. A wall was thrown
round these extended suburbs by Louis VII., whose suc¬
cessor, Philippe Auguste, enlarged the limits of the city by
inclosing a wide sweep of ground with a new mur den-
ceinte. The space thus inclosed was in course of time
278
PARIS.
Paris.
covered with the churches and other religious establishments
erected by St Louis between the years 1226 and 1270.
Of these the only one that has survived is the Sainte Cha-
pelle, now restored in more than its original splendour.
In the reign of St Louis the bourgeoisie of Paris were
confirmed in many important privileges, in return for the
help which they afforded to the king against his rebellious
barons. There was no recognised municipality in Paris at
this time; but the guilds of merchants and traders, which
had existed since the times of the Romans, were amalga¬
mated by St Louis into a sort of municipality, sometimes
called the marchandise or hanse Parisienne, whose chief,
under the title of prevot des niarchands, exercised a whole¬
some judicial authority. One of his tunctions was to ad¬
minister, in concert with the prevot de Paris, the police of
the city, which till this time had been very defective. In
1250 the Sorbonne was founded ; and soon afterwards a
hospital for the blind, a school of surgery, and a body of
notaries were instituted. Under the successors of Louis
the progress of the city was seen in the foundation of
numerous colleges, abbeys, and churches, and the growing
spirit of independence among the towns-people. In 1306
the citizens for the first time rose in arms against the
king. They rebelled against the heavy taxation to which
they were subjected by Philippe IV. (Le Bel). After a
temporary success, the mutineers were quelled, and twenty-
eight of the ringleaders were hanged. Philippe, however,
found it convenient for the future to fill his coffers by means
more popular than the taxation of his own subjects. Ac¬
cordingly, Paris saw with scarcely a murmur the Jewish
residents among them banished and robbed of all their pro¬
perty, and in the following year (1307) the cruel extirpation
of the Knights Templars. In this reign, however, the
streets and highways were improved, and some courts of
law were established. During the absence of King John
as a captive in England the peace of Paris was embroiled
by the faction of the Maillotins under Etienne Marcel,
prevot des marchands, instigated by Charles le Mauvais,
King of Navarre. Marcel, however, was slain by his own
partizans ; and the Dauphin, afterwards Charles V., quelled
the mutiny. The faubourgs had meanwhile been consider¬
ably extended beyond the mur $enceinte; and as they
were threatened from time to time with attacks by the
English, new walls and ditches, which it took sixteen years
to complete, were drawn round them in 1367. Under
Charles V., the Bastille and the Palais des Tournelles were
built, and the Louvre enlarged and repaired. Charles V.
was succeeded in 1380 by Charles VL, in whose reign the
bridges of St Michel and Notre Dame were built in 1384
and 1414 respectively. In 1420, by the treaty of Troyes,
Paris passed into the hands of the English. An unsuc¬
cessful attempt was made in 1429 by Joan of Arc to retake
the city. A second attack, conducted by Dunois and the
Count de Richemond, in 1436, had a different issue. The
English garrison was surprised and put to the sword. A
few men only, who took refuge in the Bastille, were allowed
to escape with their lives. Under Charles and some of his
immediate successors, Paris was desolated by war, pesti¬
lence, and famine, to such a degree that at one time it was
seriously intended to transfer the seat of government to
some healthier and safer city on the Loire. Such was the
insecurity of life, that in the environs, and occasionally in
the streets of the capital itself, numbers of people were de¬
stroyed by the wolves. So rapidly, however, did it recover
from its disasters, that by the time of Louis XL, who came
to the throne in 1461, the population was upwards ot
200,000, and the city and the surrounding country were in
such a flourishing condition that, in the words of Comines,
“ C’est la cite que jamais je visse entouree de meilleurs pays
et plantureux, et est chose presque incredible que des biens
qui y arrivent.” Louis XL had an especial favour for
Paris, and used to say, “ Ma bonne ville de Paris, si je la Paris,
perdais, tout serait fini pour moi.” He encouraged trade v/-*.
and commerce to the utmost of his power, and set up in
the Sorbonne the first printing-press that was established
in France. Though neglected by the immediate successors
of Louis, Paris continued to grow and prosper, and added to
its old monuments some new ones of great importance, such
as the Fontaine des Innocents, the Hotel de Cluny, the
churches of St Merry and St Eustache, and the College of
France. Francis I. restored the fortifications and enlarged
the circuit of the city, besides adorning it with some hand¬
some public buildings. The old castle of the Louvre was
demolished, and a new and splendid palace, which still re¬
mains, was erected on its site. The Faubourg St Germain,
which had been destroyed in the wars, was restored, and
the foundations of the Hotel de Ville were laid. In 1563
the chateau and garden of the Tuilleries were formed by
Catherine de Medici, and the enceinte enlarged so as to
compi’ise them within its circuit. Paris was at this time
regularly divided into sixteen quarters, and its administra¬
tion was conducted by—1st, The Prevot de Paris, appointed
by the King, and having under him two lieutenants, one^
civil and the other criminal, who presided in the court of
theChatelet, with its twenty-four members ; 2d, The Prevot
d.es Marchands, chosen by the trades, and assisted by
thirty-two assessors ; 3d, The Garde Bourgeoise ; and 4th,
The Guet Royal, consisting of 500 foot soldiers and three
companies of archers or musketeers. I hese tribunals ex¬
ercised their functions with great and often undiscrimi¬
nating severity, yet were sometimes unable to make head
against the bands of thieves, vagabonds, and beggars, who,
to the number of fourteen or fifteen thousand, frequently
combined to plunder and disturb the town. It was not till
the time of Louis XIV. that the arm of the law was strong
enough to put down these ruffians completely. In the re¬
ligious wars of the sixteenth century, Paris suffered severely.
The events that followed the massacre of St Bartholomew
in 1588, the formation of the League, \\xe jowrnee des bar¬
ricades, and the sieges sustained by the city from Henri
III. and his successor Henri IV., destroyed great numbers
of the inhabitants, and the streets and houses in which they
dwelt. When the edict of Nantes restored peace to Franee,
Henry had leisure to carry out his plans for embellishing
the capital. The Pont Neuf, begun in the previous reign,
was completed; the Hopital St Louis was founded; the
Place Royale, the Rue Dauphine, and some fine quais
along the river, were laid out; the building of the luil-
leries, and of the galleries connecting that palace with the
Louvre, was vigorously prosecuted ; and the two western¬
most of the islands in the Seine were united to that of La
Cite. Under Louis XIII. many splendid structures were
added to the city. The Palais Cardinal, now the Palais
Royal, was begun by Richelieu, who also founded the
Academie; the Luxembourg was commenced by Marie de
Medici; the Jardin des Plantes was laid out by Labrosse,
one of the royal physicians ; the enceinte of the city was
extended almost to the line of the present boulevards ; the
quais and bridges of the He St Louis were constructed ;
the Pont au Change was rebuilt; and a wooden bridge,
now replaced by the Pont Royal, connected the quarter of
the Louvre with the Faubourg St Germain, where many
splendid hotels now began to rise. The police, though now
a little better administered than of old, was still so badly
administered that crimes and vices of the most hideous
kind might be indulged in with impunity. During the
supremacy of Mazarin, Paris was harassed by the never-
ceasing outbreaks of the Frondeurs ; and insurrections,
barricades, and street-fighting recurred periodically. The
distress occasioned by these feuds was such, that on one
occasion in 1653 it was estimated that of the entire popu¬
lation of the city, then amounting to about 400,000 souls,
P A E I S.
279
one-tenth was without any ostensible means of livelihood.
As soon as he attained his majority, Louis XIV. began to
carry out the plans of his father and grandfather. Eighty
new streets were laid out, and many of the old ones re¬
paired and embellished. Thirty-three new churches, be¬
sides chapels, were erected ; while the Hopital General, or
La Salpetriere, afforded shelter to the homeless poor, and
the Hotel des Invalides to old or disabled soldiers and sea¬
men. The observatory, the colonnade of the Louvre, and
the Pont Royal were completed; and the Champs Elysees
were planted. The palace of the Tuilleries was finished ;
and its gardens were laid out nearly as they now stand.
The Place Vendome and the Place des Victoires were
formed ; and the triumphal arches of St Denis and
St Martin substituted in room of two of the old city
gates. The ancient fortifications of the northern part
of the city were demolished, and their site converted
into a splendid succession of promenades. The streets
were now for the first time lighted at night; the police
was greatly improved, and the drainage and sewerage of
the town received special attention. In 1710 the po¬
pulation of Paris amounted to 490,000 souls. Under
Louis XV. the progress of the city was neither so rapid
nor so great as under his predecessor. Some of the splendid
streets in the faubourgs St Honore and St Germain were
opened in his reign; the Palais Bourbon, now the seat of
the Legislative Assembly, the Pantheon, or church of St Ge¬
nevieve, the Mint, and the Ecole Militaire were founded;
the Place de la Concorde was laid out; and the porcelain
manufactory at Sevres established. The peace of the city
was during this reign never broken by such feuds as had
troubled it in past ages. Some slight tumults resulted from
the general distress that followed the bursting of the Mis¬
sissippi bubble, and the other financial schemes of Law, but
they were easily suppressed. Louis XVI. continued the
Pantheon and began the Madeleine, and other less im¬
portant churches. The Fran^ais, the French, Italian, and
comic opera-houses, and some minor theatres, rose in rapid
succession. Many new fountains were opened, and the
water of the Seine was distributed through various parts of
the city by means of steam-engines erected on its banks;
the enciente of the capital was again extended, and some
villages, such as Chaillot, Roule, and Monceaux, formerly
beyond the walls, were now incorporated with the city.
The Palais Royal, diverted from its original use, was par¬
celled out into shops, and the gardens inclosed in its quad¬
rangle were thrown open as places of public recreation.
The population of Paris at this time, according to Necker,
amounted to about 620,000. The reign of Louis XVI.
was inaugurated with bread riots, forecasting the more ter¬
rible events that were speedily to follow. The history of
Paris during the Revolution becomes a history of the Re¬
volution itself, all the leading events and ideas of which
originated in the capital. On the 14th July 1789 the Bas¬
tille was taken and destroyed. The sufferings of the people
from famine during the ensuing months led to almost daily
riots, in which many lives were lost. In the October of
this year the king, then living at Versailles, was brought in
triumph to Paris by the mob, and the National Assembly
likewise transferred its seat to the capital. Order was not
restored till martial law had been proclaimed ; but despite
the utmost exertions of the authorities, emeutes were con¬
stantly taking place during the next two years. On the
20th June lf92 the mob rose and attacked the Tuilleries,
where the royal family was then residing; on the 10th
August of the same year the attack was repeated, and the
Swiss bodyguards of the king were slain to a man : Louis
himself was deposed and confined a prisoner in the Temple.
On the 2d of September 1792 the mob rose, broke open
the prisons, and murdered all the inmates, to the number of
about 5000. The National Convention supplanted the As¬
sembly, and the doctrines of the Mountain became rampant. Paris.
On the 21st of January 1793 Louis was executed on the v-*>
guillotine which had been set up in the Place Louis XV.,
or, as it is now called, de la Concorde; and when the
“ Reign of Terror” was inaugurated, on the overthrow of
the Girondist party in the Convention, and the supremacy
of the Clubs, executions took place daily to the number of
fifty or sixty, sometimes even of a hundred. After a time,
the guillotine was removed from the Place Louis XV. to
that of the Bastille, and thence to the Place du Trone,
where it remained till brought back to its original site for
the decapitation of Robespierre and the leading terrorists.
Before the Convention gave place to the Directory, it had
introduced some important reforms,—abolished the com¬
mune of Paris ; silenced the Clubs, or reduced them to
order; and organized the Bureau des Longitudes, the Po¬
lytechnic School, and the Institute of France. The Direc¬
tory maintained itself in power from 1795 till the revolution
of the 18th Brumaire (8th November 1799) left Napoleon
virtually master of France. In the course of twelve years,
as first consul and emperor, the new ruler of France ex¬
pended upwards of four millions sterling on the extension
and embellishment of the capital. Three new bridges were
built over the Seine; three great cemeteries were formed
beyond the walls, and five abattoirs constructed; many
new fountains and markets were opened in different parts
of the city; the quais were extended along the banks of
the river ; and a number of new and handsome streets were
begun. The churches destroyed during the Revolution
were restored, many of them in more than their former
beauty. On the abdication of Napoleon in 1814, Paris
fell into the hands of the allies after a gallant defence by
the garrison, the National Guard, and the students of the
Polytechnic and Veterinary Schools. The events that fol¬
lowed Waterloo and the final deposition of the emperor
again gave up Paris into the hands of the stranger, but on
neither of these occasions was much damage done to the
city. The Prussians had made arrangements for blowing
up the Pont de Jena, but were prevented from carrying out
their design by the firmness of the Duke of Wellington.
Louis XVIII. entered Paris on the 8th of July 1815, and
the old Bourbon line was reinstated on the throne of
France. He carried out many of his predecessors’ plans;
built three new bridges and three churches, and greatly
improved the lighting and cleansing of the metropolis.
During his reign Paris enjoyed almost undisturbed tran¬
quillity. The only emeute that occurred took place in
1827, on the occasion of an election of deputies to the
Chamber. Barricades were erected, but the troops proved
faithful to the king, and the insurrection was put down with
little loss of life. Subsequent attempts to renew it proved
equally abortive. Charles X. was less lucky or less prudent
than his brother. On the 27th of July 1830 he published
the famous ordinances, suppressing the charter of 1814,
annulling elections, and abolishing the liberty of the press.
Instantly the Parisian people were up in arms. Four thou¬
sand barricades were raised; the Swiss guards, and the
gendarmerie under Marshal Marmont, fought desperately
for a time, but failed to make head against the mob. The
troops lost about 400 men in killed and wounded ; the in¬
surgents 783 slain, and 4500 put hors de combat. In honour
of these patriots, a monumental column, with their names
inscribed in letters of gold, was erected in the centre of the
Place de la Bastille. Their bodies were deposited in vaults
beneath the column, which was completed and solemnly in¬
augurated on the 28th July 1840. The Orleans branch of
the family succeeded to the throne in the person of Louis
Philippe. The new sovereign was fortunate enough to
escape all the repeated attempts to assassinate him, and
lived to complete numerous works of great beauty and im¬
portance. Among those which he finished may be men-
280
Paris.
P A ]
tioned the churches of the Madeleine, St Vincent de Paul,
Notre Damede Lorette, and St Denis ; the Hotel de Ville,
and the triumphal Arc de 1’Etoile. Ihe Place de la Con¬
corde was remodelled, and adorned with splendid statues
and fountains, and an interesting obelisk of great size
brought from Luxor in Upper Egypt. Some of the old
quais were widened, and new ones were built and planted
with trees. Gas was introduced into the town, and vast
works were undertaken for the drainage of the streets. 1 he
greatest and most costly, however, of all the public works
were the fortifications of Paris. The whole of the city and
its faubourgs were surrounded with a fosse and a high
rampart, commanded along their whole line by fourteen de¬
tached forts, some of them of great size and strength. The
cost of these works exceeded twenty millions sterling. I ill
the year 1848, Louis Philippe’s reign secured peace and
prosperity to Paris and to France. Some of his later acts,
however, rendered him very unpopular; and when, in 1848,
he obstinately opposed the movement for electoral reform,
the mob rose, and the army eventually sided with the
people. Louis Philippe abdicated in favour of his grand¬
son, the Count of Paris ; but it was too late. A democra¬
tic republic was proclaimed, and a constituent assembly
convoked to draw up the constitution, ihe extieme party,
the Red Republicans as they were called, disgusted with
what seemed to them the too conservative spirit of the new
government, began to embroil the public peace by their
violent teaching of the wildest doctrines of socialism. Clubs
were formed which, by the 15th of May, became strong
enough to seize the Hotel de Ville and establish a provi¬
sional government of their own. The leaders of the move¬
ment were arrested and thrown into prison ; but new leaders
appeared; and on the 23d of June the civil war broke out.
The eastern half of Paris was in the hands of the insur¬
gents, who threw up barricades in all the great thorough¬
fares, some of them exceedingly strong and scientific in
their construction. For three days—the 24th, 25th, and
26th of June—a bloody combat was fought, and with doubt¬
ful issue, till the arrival of the artillery decided the action
in favour of the government forces under General Cavaig-
nac, who had been nominated dictator by the Assembly.
The lives lost during the insurrection amounted to at least
15,000, and the sums paid by the city to compensate for
the destruction of property amounted to L.223,945 sterling.
In the canvass for the presidency of the new republic, Louis
Napoleon Bonaparte proved the successful candidate.
During his term of office no outbreak occurred; but Paris
and France were agitated by the intrigues of all the parties
and factions that had lately believed^ themselves entitled
to a share in the administration. Towards the close of
1851 an attempt was made in the Chambers to encroach
on the powers of the president, who had made himself
highly popular with the army and the mass of the peasanti y.
Accordingly, on the 2d December Louis Napoleon de¬
clared Paris in a state of siege, dissolved the Legislative As¬
sembly, and restored universal suffrage. He then appealed
to the people, offering himself as candidate for a ten years
presidency. He was appointed by a majority of about seven
millions and a half of affirmative votes. On the anniver¬
sary of the coup d’etat, which had been effected with muc i
less bloodshed than usually attends such changes of govern¬
ment in France, he was promoted, or promoted himself, to
the higher dignity of emperor of the French, under the
title of Napoleon HI. The public works that maik his
reign far surpass in number and splendour all the achieve¬
ments of his predecessors. The Louvre has been com¬
pleted on a style of almost unparalleled grandeur, and joined
to the Tuilleries; the Rue de Rivoli has been prolonged
to the Hotel de Ville; many new streets, some of them
hardly inferior to it in point of splendour, have been opened
up; the tomb of Napoleon I., in the Hotel des Invalides,
t I s.
has been finished, and the Ste, Chapelle restored; a railway Paris,
has been formed, encircling the city, and connecting all the
lines that issue from it; the Champs Elysees and the Bois
de Boulogne have been splendidly embellished. Other
works are either contemplated or are already in progress,
which, when carried out, will have remodelled to a great
extent the entire aspect of the city.
The circumference of Paris is now 25,978 yards, or up¬
wards of 141 miles. Its area at different times is shown
in the subjoined table :—
Under Julius Caesar B.c. 56  37 acres,
„ Philippe Auguste..a.d. 1211  625 ,,
„ Charles VI  „ 1383 1084 „
„ Henri III.   ,, 1581 1193 ,,
„ Louis XIII  „ 1634 1403 „
„ Louis XIV  „ 1686 2728 „
„ Louis XV  „ 1717 2809 „
„ Louis Philippe  „ 1848 8708 „
The last official measurement gives the area of the city
as 35,240,000 square metres, equal to 42,150,640 square
yards, or 8710 acres.
The plain in which Paris stands is about 60 metres above
the level of the sea, and is surrounded in its entire circumfer¬
ence byarange of low hills. The heights inclosing the north¬
ern and more considerable part of the town skirt the shore of
the Marne above its junction with the Seine, sink between
Rosny and Montreuil, rise again in the plateau of Belleville,
disappear altogether in the plain of St Denis, attain in the hill
of Monmartre, one of their most elevated points, an altitude of
295 feet above the river, cross the plain of the Batignolles, and
terminate in the slopes of Passy and Chaillot. The southern,
like the northern portion of the city, is pretty nearly semi¬
circular. The hills that screen the southern portion of
the city are less high than those which inclose the northern.
Almost level at the eastern extremity of Paris, the ground
rises with a gentle slope into the plateau of Ivry and the
hill of Cailles, where it is intersected by the Bievre. Pass¬
ing that little stream, the first eminence to be seen is the^
Mont Ste. Genevieve, behind which extends the plateau of
Montrouge, from the western end of which rise the slight
elevations commanding the barriers of Maine and Mont
Parnasse. Between Vaugirard and the river lies the level
plain of Grenelle. Beyond these rising grounds, and at a dis¬
tance of from 3 to 5 miles S. and W. of the city is a ridge
of hills with several points of considerable height. Of these
mav be mentioned, Villejuif, Meudon, St Cloud, and Mont
Valerien. The inner range of hills, encircling the southern
part of the city, furnished the stone from which much of
Paris was built" These old quarries are now built over,
the excavations serving as catacombs, into which, when the
intramural cemeteries were cleared in 1786, the bones of
at least three millions of persons were thrown. The Seine
enters the city at Bercy, and leaves it at Passy, the dis¬
tance between these points by the river-course being nearly
five English miles. About half-way the river flows round
the two islands of St Louis and La Cite, the three other
islets which formerly existed at this spot being now incor¬
porated with one or other of these, or with the mainland.
From Bercy to Passy there is an unbroken line of quais on
both sides of the stream. The breadth of the Seine at the
Pont d’Austerlitz is about 182 yards ; at the Pont Neuf, 288
yards; and at the Pont de Jena, 149 yards. The mean velo¬
city of the water is 20 inches a second. In summer it is some¬
times so low as to be fordable ; in winter it rises high, has
a very rapid current, and sometimes does great damage by
overflowing its banks. Numerous barges, laden with fire¬
wood, coals, &c., unload at the wharves ; and small steam¬
boats for the local traffic, and occasionally a sea-going vessel
or two, are to be seen plying on the Seine. No impurities
are allowed to pollute its waters, the sewerage of the city
being otherwise disposed of. Floating wash-houses, and
PARIS.
281
Paris, bathing and swimming schools, stud the surface in great num-
r j bers. The river communicates with the Loire by the canals
of Briare and Orleans, with the Somme and Scheldt by the
canal of St Quentin, and with theSaone by that of Bourgogne.
It was long a favourite scheme of the French kings to
fortify the capital; and in 1841 a grant of 140 millions of
francs was voted to Louis Philippe for the purpose. I
fortifications, as they now stand, consist of two parts,—
A continuous enceinte, bastioned and terraced with
metres revetment; and, 2d, Seventeen detached forts, be¬
sides occasional detached trenches. The ditch has an ave¬
rage depth of 20 feet, and a breadth of from 60 to 16o
feet. The crest of the parapet is 14 metres above the
bottom of the ditch. Military roads connect all the forts
with Paris and with each other. The enceinte embraces
within its sweep the whole of the capital and its faubouigs.
The seventeen detached forts are,—Fort Charenton,^No-
gent, Rosny, Noisy, Romainville, d’Aubervilliers, De 1’Est,
Couronne du Nord, Fort de la Briche, Fort du Mont Va-
lerien (with strong bomb-proof casemates and large bar¬
racks), Fort de Vanvres, DTssy, Montrouge, Bicetre, Ivry,
Lunette de Stains, and Fort de Rouvray. The inner wall
of Paris is quite unconnected with the defence of the city.
It is pierced by fifty-six gates or barrieres, at which the
octroi, or local dues on taxable articles entering the capital
are levied. Of these barriers, the handsomest are those of
Neuilly, Du Trone, St Martin, Fontainebleau, Chartres, and
Passy. A series of broad roads, planted with fine rows of
trees, runs round the outside of this wall, and forms the ex¬
ternal boulevards. The wall itself, begun in 1787, but not
completed till the time of Napoleon L, comprises the ma¬
jority of those quarters or suburbs which, from lying be¬
yond what was at the time the city proper, are called fau¬
bourgs. Of the faubourgs embraced within the octroi
wall, the chief are, on the north side of the river, those
of St Honore and the Roule on the N.W.; Chaussee
d’Antin, Montmartre, Poissonniere, St Denis, and St Mar¬
tin on the N.; the Temple on the N.E.; and St Antoine
on the E. On the other side of the river are those of
St Victor on the S.E.; St Marcel, St Jacques, and St
Michel on the S.; St Germain and Gros Caillou on the
S.W. Beyond the sweep of the octroi wall are the fau¬
bourgs of Auteuil, Passy, the Batignolles, La Villette, Belle¬
ville, Menilmontant, Charonne, Bercy, Montrouge, Vaugi-
rard and Grenelle.
Paris is bisected by the Seine. In the northern, which
is the newest and most important part of the city, the
streets run for the most part either parallel with the river
or at right angles to it. The great arteries are the quais,
the Rue St Honore, and the Boulevards. In the Cite
no plan seems to have been observed in laying out the
streets and houses. But the changes of the last ten years
have swept away or greatly altered the Cite of the middle
ages, which had survived till that time. The houses, as in
every part of Paris, were built of stone, and were generally
from five to eight storeys in height. The streets were so
narrow that a person walking in the middle of them, with arms
outstretched, could in many cases touch the houses on either
side at once. At night they were either not lighted at all,
or were illuminated by the dingy reverberes, which, during
the revolutions, were so often used as a gallows. Most of
these old streets have in late years been pulled down.
Wherever practicable, foot pavements have been laid, gas
introduced, and the gutter transferred from the centre to
the sides of the streets. Similar improvements have been
effected, where required, in the streets of less ancient date
on both sides of the river. The lighting of Paris is now
effected by 1595 oil and 14,000 gas lamps, fed by 1,464,236
feet of pipes, and supplying nearly 560,000 cubic feet
of gas. During six months all the lamps are lighted every
night; and during the remainder of the year a certain
VOL. XVII.
number for part of the night. The northern boulevards, Paris,
occupying the site of the fortifications demolished by Louis
XIV., are now planted on both sides of the way with rows
of trees, and constitute the most brilliant part of the city,
from the size and elegance of the houses and the splendour
of the shops and restaurants, which adorn them in a con¬
tinuous line from the Madeleine to the Place de la Bastille.
The stone used in building the houses is the marine lime¬
stone (calcaire grassier), found abundantly in the Paris
basin ; and as the inhabitants are bound by law to scrape,
paint, or whitewash their houses once every two years, the
general aspect of the city is always clean and gay. The
sweeping of the streets costs the city a million and a half of
francs yearly, and is effected by 2500 scavengers of either
sex. More than L. 120,000 sterling are annually spent
in repairing the streets and pavements ; and during the last
fifty-five years more than L.8,000,000 sterling have been
spent in widening them.
Except the Place de la Concorde, none of the “ places,”
or public squares of Paris, are memorable for their size,
though several of them are remarkable for their beauty.
The Place de la Concorde connects the garden of the
Tuilleries with the Champs Elysees. The centre of it is
believed to furnish the finest coup d'ceil in Europe. Look¬
ing towards the east, the eye falls first on the palace of the
Tuilleries, facing which, at a distance of about three-fourths
of a mile, stands the noble Arc de Triomphe de I’Etoile;
another vista discloses the magnificent church of the Ma¬
deleine, confronted by the hall of the Chamber of De¬
puties. The “ Place” itself is splendidly decorated. Eight
thrones, supporting eight figures, representing the principal
cities of France, besides numerous groups of statuary, en¬
circle it. In the centre stands the famous obelisk of Luxor,
marking the site of the guillotine during the first revolu¬
tion. Two of the largest and finest fountains in the world
play during the greater part of each day. The most note¬
worthy of the other places are the Place des Victoires, with
its fine statue of Louis XIV., the Place Royale, the
Place du Trone, and the Place Vendome. In the last-
named of these stands the Colonne Vendome, erected by
Napoleon to commemorate his victories in the German
campaign of 1805. The pillar is an imitation of Trajan s
Column at Rome, and is 135 feet high, with a diameter of
12 feet. The bas-reliefs of the shaft, cast out of 1200
pieces of Austrian and Russian cannon, comprise 2000
figures, in a spiral scroll 840 feet long. The pillar is now
surmounted by a bronze statue of the first Napoleon, 11
feet high. The total cost of it was L.60,000 sterling.
The public buildings of Paris are so numerous and so
interesting that to dwell upon or even enumerate all that
deserve, and in fact require notice, is impossible. Perhaps
the most important in the history of Paris, especially during
the last seventy years, is the palace of the luillenes, the
official residence of the reigning monarch _ It takes its
name from the tile-fields on the site of which it stands, and
was founded by Catherine de Medici m 1564. It was en¬
larged by Henri IV., and again by Louis XIII., who left
it externally very much in the condition in which it now
stands! The facade is 330 yards in length, and 36 in
breadth. The columns of the lower storey of the central
facade are Ionic ; those of the second, Corinthian ; of the
third, composite. Though not a beautiful building, its
size and its peculiar lofty roof and chimneys, are very im¬
pressive. The internal decorations are in a style of splen¬
dour which it is difficult for any who has not seen to con¬
ceive. Both the galleries connecting the Tuilleries with
the Louvre are now complete; that on the south is nearly
1500 feet in length, and contains a magnificent collection
of paintings of the French, Dutch, German, and Italian
schools. The Louvre itself, once a royal residence, is now
used as a repository for the art treasures of the National
282
PARIS.
Paris. Museum, and contains vast and well-arranged collections of
Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Assyrian antiquities; many
masterpieces of the leading painters and sculptors of most
ages and countries ; and a museum, in which are preserved
models of the most important arsenals, ships, and forts, and
everything, in short, connected with the maritime defences of
the country. It consists of two parts—the old Louvre, de¬
signed by Claude Perrault, and the new Louvre, by Vis¬
conti. The old Louvre is nearly a square, 576 feet in
length by 538 in breadth, and inclosing a quadrangle of
394 feet square. Its eastern fapade, looking towards the
church of St Germain I’Auxerrois, is a colonnade of twenty-
eight coupled Corinthian columns, and is justly reckoned
one of the finest pieces of architecture of any age. The
new Louvre consists of two vast lateral piles of buildings,
projecting at right angles from the two parallel galleries
which join the old Louvre with the Tuilleries, and forming
the eastern boundary of the Place du Carrousel. Turning
into the Place Napoleon III., they present on each side a
frontage of 590 feet, intersected by three sumptuous
pavilions. These vast structures are intended to accom¬
modate the minister of state, the minister of the interior,
and the library of the Louvre. Some of the galleries on
the upper storeys are to be set apart for permanent and
annual exhibitions of the works of living artists. The
Tuilleries and the Louvre, both now completed and har¬
monized, may be regarded as forming together a single
palace, of a magnitude and splendour to which a parallel
can nowhere be shown. The total space covered or in¬
closed by the entire structure amounts to nearly 60 Eng¬
lish acres. The money expended on the new works already
exceeds a million and three-quarters sterling; and large
additional sums will be required for the decorations that
remain to be introduced.
The Palais du Luxembourg, now the Palais du Senat,
in the southern portion of the city, was built in 1612 for
Marie de Medici, on the model of the Pitti Palace in Flo¬
rence. It is a handsome edifice, consisting of a centre and
two wings, connected by terraced arcades. At the revolu¬
tion of 1789 it was converted into a prison, and afterwards
was called successively Palais du Directorie, Palais du
Consulat, and Palais du Senat. At the restoration it be¬
came the Chambre des Paires, and since 1852 for the
second time Palais du Senat. A fine collection of the
masterpieces of modern artists adorns one of the galleries of
the Luxembourg. The gardens attached to the palace are
extensive and beautiful. A broad avenue of great length
leads from the Luxembourg to the Observatory. A bronze
statue, erected in 1854, marks the exact spot in this avenue
where Marshal Ney was shot on the 7th December 1815.
The Hotel des Invalides also, on the southern side of the
Seine, was founded by Louis XIV., in 1670, for old or
disabled soldiers and sailors. Additions have been made
to it from time to time, till it now covers 16 acres of ground,
inclosing 15 courts, and is capable of accommodating 5000
inmates. The ordinary number of inhabitants is between
3000 and 4000. Attached to the hotel is the church, with
its beautiful double dome, 173 feet high, surmounted by a
graceful lantern-globe and cross. The height to the top
of this cross is 323 feet. Under the dome is the tomb of
the Emperor Napoleon I. This, the most superb mauso¬
leum in the world, was designed by Visconti, and cost from
first to last about L.360,000 sterling. A little further down the
river is the Champs de Mars, oblong in form, and 2952 feet
long by 1476 broad. It was in this plain that the Fete de
la Federation was held on the 14th July 1790. Here, too,
Napoleon held the famous Champ de Mai before the battle
of Waterloo. The Champ de Mars is now used for re¬
views and races. At its southern extremity stands the
£cole Militaire, now a barrack.
At the southern end of the bridge connecting the Place
de la Concorde with the Faubourg St Germain stands the
Palace of the Legislative Body, formerly the Chamber of
Deputies, the facade of which, built in 1804, consisting of
twelve Corinthian columns that rest on a broad flight of
twenty-nine steps, and support a triangular pediment,
measuring 95 feet at the base and 17 feet high, is much
admired. A little way up the river stands the Palais du
Quai d’Orsay, a magnificent structure begun by Napoleon
I., but not completed till the time of Louis Philippe. It
was designed as a palace for the exhibition of the products
of French industry, but is now used by the Council of
State. Separated from the Palais d’Orsay by an interven¬
ing street is the Palais de la Legion d’Honneur, also a fine
building, though externally somewhat insignificant. Still
higher up the river, and on the quai opposite the Louvre,
stands the Palais de ITnstitut, occupying the site of a col¬
lege founded by Cardinal Mazarin, and containing two
valuable libraries—the Bibliotheque Mazarine, with 150,000
printed books and 3700 MSS.; and the Bibliotheque de
1’Institut, with about 100,000 printed books. The latter
library is especially rich in scientific books, both French
and foreign, and possesses the transactions and periodicals
of almost every scientific association in the world. East
from the Palais de flnstitut, and close beside it, is the
Hotel des Monnaies, or Mint. The facade of this edifice
fronting the Quai Conti is 360 feet long, with an elevation
of 76 feet; that towards the Rue Guenegaud is 348 feet in
length. The Mint is far from handsome externally, but is in¬
teresting for its extensive and admirably arranged collection
of coins and medals. The coining-machines, eleven in
number, are singularly ingenious in their structure, and
when worked all at once, produce coin to the value of a
million and a half sterling a day. Still further east, on the
opposite bank of the river, stands the Hotel de Ville, the
residence of the Prefect of the Seine, and the meeting-place
of the municipality of Paris. This handsome edifice was
founded in 1533, but not completed till many years later.
During the revolution of 1789 it suffered great damage. In
1837 it was restored and extended to about four times
its previous size. As it now stands, it is a rectangle, with
a handsome pavilion at each angle, and two more in
the eastern and western facades, the latter of which, as the
principal facade of the building, is adorned besides with an
elegant belfry over the great central doorway. The re¬
ception-rooms of the Hotel de Ville are decorated with a
taste and brilliancy unsurpassed in any even of the imperial
residences of France. They form a circuit of about half
a mile, and require for their complete illumination 9714
tapers and 2389 gas-burners. They can accommodate
7000 visitors at once without discomfort.
The ecclesiastical edifices of Paris are, in magnitude and
splendour, worthy of the general palatial aspect of the city.
Conspicuous among them in point of architectural beauty,
as well as of historic interest, is the cathedral of Notre
Dame on the He de la Cite. This superb temple was be¬
gun about the year 1000, and completed in 1312, and ex¬
emplifies the Gothic architecture of the intervening cen¬
turies in its noblest form. It is a regular cruciform, with
an octagonal eastern end. The western faqade is flanked
by two lofty square towers, intended for spires, which, how¬
ever, have never been built. The interior consists of a
nave and choir, with double aisles and lateral chapels be¬
tween the outer buttresses. The building is 390 feet in
length, 144 feet wide at the transepts, and 102 feet from
the floor to the vaulting of the roof. The towers are 204
feet high, and the western front is 128 fiset in length. The
nave is 255 feet long by 39 broad; the roof, made of
chesnut timber, is 356 feet in length, and rises 30 feet
above the internal vaulting. The chapels are adorned with
many impressive pictures; and the sculptures, both exter¬
nal and internal, are quaint and striking. Totally different
PARIS.
Paris, in kind, but equally splendid with Notre Dame, is the
church of the Madeleine, at the extreme western end of
the northern boulevards. It was begun in 1764. The
works were slowly progressing, when, after the Prussian cam¬
paign, Napoleon determined to convert it into a Temple of
Glory to commemorate the exploits of his armies. His
abdication frustrated this design; and in 1815 Louis
XVIII. restored it to its original destination. It was com¬
pleted in the reign of Louis Philippe at a total cost of
L.523,160 sterling. The Madeleine is the finest repro¬
duction in modern times of any ancient model. Its
archetype was the Parthenon at Athens, which, however,
it greatly surpasses in size. The Parthenon was only 228
feet long by 100 broad. The Madeleine stands on an
elevated platform 418 feet in length, and is 328 feet long
by 138 broad. It is reached by a flight of 28 steps, and is
surrounded by a colonnade of 52 Corinthian columns, 15 on
each side; 14 on the southern portico, and 8 in the north¬
ern. The entablature, ceiling, and pediment of the colon¬
nade are lavishly adorned with sculpture. The decorations
of the interior are very splendid, but their effect is better
suited for an opera-house or a picture gallery than a Chris¬
tian temple. In a totally different style of architecture is
the Pantheon, which, a few days after the coup detat of
1851, Louis Napoleon restored to ecclesiastical uses and
to its original name of the church of Ste. Genevieve. The
Pantheon is cruciform, and from the centre of the cross
springs a lofty circular drum surrounded by a peristyle of
32 Corinthian columns. Above rises a splendid dome, the
highest point of which is 268 feet above the pavement.
The portico is composed of 22 fluted Corinthian columns
60 feet high, supporting a pediment 120 feet long and 24
in height. The sculpture in the pediment, by David, re¬
presents the genius of France surrounded by the great men
of the nation. On the frieze beneath is inscribed in gold
letters—“ Aux grands hommes la Patrie reconnaissante.”
The total length of the building, including the portico, is
352 feet; interior length from east to west, 295; length of
the transept, 265 feet; uniform breadth, 104 feet. The re¬
mains of Voltaire and Rousseau were removed to the Pan¬
theon in 1791, but were secretly taken away during the Re¬
storation. Among the illustrious dead buried in the vaults
are Lagrange the mathematician, Bougainville the navi¬
gator, the Dutch Admiral de Winter, Soufflot the archi¬
tect of the church, and Marshal Lannes. Mirabeau and
Marat were also interred here, but their remains were
afterwards removed. The Pantheon was begun in 1764 by
Louis XV. and afterwards restored by Louis XVIII. It has
cost in all about a million and a quarter sterling. Close to
the Pantheon is the church of St Etienne du Mont, with a
very beautiful interior. Of the other Parisian churches,
the handsomest are St Sulpice near the Luxembourg, the
two towers of which are used as telegraphic stations ; St Vin¬
cent de Paul, in the N.E. corner of Paris, one of the
finest churches in the city ; St Eustache, lately restored with
great splendour ; and St Roch, both noted for their musical
services ; Notre Dame de Lorette; St Germain des Pres;
and St Germain 1’Auxerrois, opposite the eastern front of the
old Louvre, interesting for its curious frescoed portico, and as
the church from the belfry of which the signal was given for
the massacre of St Bartholomew, August 23, 1572.
The hospitals and benevolent institutions of Paris are
very numerous. The hospitals are of two kinds—general
and special; and besides these there are hospices, analo¬
gous to the English alms-houses. The total number of
beds in these establishments is at present 17,469. The
oldest and most important of the hospitals is the Hotel
Uieu, on the lie de la Cite, close to Notre Dame. It is
known to have been in existence in the twelfth century,
and was subsequently much enlarged in the reigns of Henri
. and Louis XVI. At present it contains 850 beds, and
283
gives relief to about 12,000 patients annually. The mor- Paris,
tality is 1 in 18. The next in importance are the hopi-
ttals Lariboisiere, de la Pitie, de la Charite, Beaujon, St
Antoine, Necker, and Cochin. Of the hospices, the most
important are those des Menages, des Enfants Trouves,
des Orphelins, des Incurables, and the Bicetre. The
civil hospitals are managed by the Administration of Pub¬
lic Assistance ; the military, three in number, are under the
control of the staff of the garrison of Paris. The incomes
of the civil hospitals are derived from legacies and dona¬
tions, from the tax of 10 per cent, of the sums received at
theatres and other places of amusement, a tax on ceme¬
teries, a portion of the octrois of the city of Paris, and of
the profits of the Mont de Piete. In 1856 the number of
patients treated in the hospitals amounted to 94,774; of
those treated at their own homes, 32,584. Relief in money
was given to 40,474 sick persons, and in kind to 172,842.
In that same year the revenue of the hospitals and hos¬
pices amounted to L.625,133, and the expenditure to
L.662,463. The average of the mortality in the general
hospitals was 1 in 10,82, and in the special 1 in 13'25 ; in
the hospices, 1 in 7‘99. Two hospitals have lately been
founded by Napoleon III. for workmen disabled at the
great public works. Besides the hospices and hospitals,
there is a vast number of charities, both lay and clerical.
There are also 13 asylums and houses of retreat for the
blind and for deaf-mutes. Creches or public nurseries are
established in different parts of Paris. Poor women who
work in factories or out of doors deposit their children in
the creche as they go to their work in the morning, return
to feed them at certain hours of the day, and carry them
home at night. There are 18 such institutions in Paris.
Of the public commercial establishments of Paris, the
handsomest is the Bourse, begun in 1808, and completed in
1826, at a cost of L.325,960 sterling. It is a parallelo¬
gram of 212 feet by 126, surrounded by a peristyle of 66
Corinthian columns, the effect of which is exceedingly
graceful. The Banque de France is a very plain build¬
ing; (for its administration and history see article Money,
section x.) The Halle au Ble, or corn-market, is a vast
circular building, begun in 1763, and finished in 1767.
The Halle aux Vins is an immense inclosure on the S.
bank of the Seine, with an area of 31,100 square yards.
The warehouses and vaults have room for 400,000 casks.
The other wholesale markets are the Halle aux Draps and
the Halle au Cuir. The Mont de Piete was created in
1777 for the benefit of the hospitals, and has the exclusive
right of lending money on moveable effects, at the rate of
9 per cent, a year. There are 45 branches of the esta¬
blishment in France. In 1857 the number of pledges was
3,400,087, representing a value of L.1,956,890. The
savings-bank (Casse d’Epargne et de Prevoyance), was
founded in 1818. In 1855 the number of depositors
amounted to 228,985, the receipts to L.981,595, and the
payments to L.934,036.
There are 24 retail markets in Paris, and the number
of the merchants who trade in them is about 9000. The
finest are the Marche St Germain, the Marche des Inno¬
cents, with its beautiful fountain, and the new markets be¬
side the church of St Eustache. The excellent abattoirs
of Paris are 5 in number, and were finished in 1818 at an
expense of L.660,720. Three of them are on the N, side
of the river, those, namely, of Montmartre, Popincourt,
and the Roule; on the southern side are those of Ville-
juif and Grenelle. The first two have 64 slaughter-houses
each ; that of Grenelle 48 ; the other two, each 32.
The population of Paris was estimated in 1798, at
640,000; in 1802, at 672,000; in 1806 it was 580,609;
in 1817, 713,966; in 1827, 890,431; in 1836, 909,126; in
1846, 945,721; in 1856, 1,174,346. In 1856, the date of
the last census, the number of births for that year was
284
PARIS.
Paris. 37,697, of which 19,110 were male, and 18,587 female;
25,948 were legitimate, and 11,749 illegitimate. Of the
latter class, 2522 were legitimized after birth. The number
of marriages that took place in 1856 was 12,493 ; in 10,177
of which neither party had been previously married; in
1268 the male, and in 597 the female ; and in 461 both had
been previously married. The total number of deaths was
29,950, of which 14,755 were males, and 15,195 females ;
11,072 died in the various hospitals, 152 in the prisons, 361
were deposited in the morgue, and one was executed. Of
the males, 9522 were unmarried, 3772 married, and 1150
widowers ; of the females, 8672 were unmarried, 3737 mar¬
ried, and 2736 widows. i „
The ordinary revenue of Paris for 1858, derived from
the octroi, the markets, abattoirs, ground-rents, &c.
amounted to L.2,781,537; the extraordinary to L.65,000 ;
making a total of L.2,846,537. The ordinary expenditure
for the same year amounted to L.1,675,902 ; the extraordi¬
nary to L.1,208,484 ; making a total of L.2,884,386. 1 he
largest item in the expenditure is for the interest of the
municipal debt, L.656,268 ; the next largest is for the pre¬
fecture of police, L.516,645. The municipal debt amount¬
ed in 1855 to L.5,137,719.
The details of the principal articles of consumption m
Paris, as furnished by the last official returns (for 1856) are
as followsWine, 22,986,828 gallons ; brandy, spirits, and
liquors, 1,675,511 gallons ; cider, 421,180 gallons ; vinegar,
500,000 gallons ; beer, 6,396,305 gallons ; olive oil, 140,229
callous ; other kinds of oil, 2,546,025 gallons. The weight
fn pounds of the food consumed during the same year was as
follows :—Beef and mutton, 151,943,094; veal, 4,023,174 ;
pork, 20,688,447; hams and sausages, 2,940,702; char-
cuterie, 2,182,832; suet, 4,306,576; salt, 15,228,064;
cheese, 3,974,804 ; poultry, game, rabbits, &c., 2,633,685 ;
butter, 6,926,262; eggs, 3,787,243; fish of all kinds,
161,236 ; grapes, 7,745,526. The total value of these ar¬
ticles is estimated at about L.14,000,000 sterling. The
wine represents a value of about L.2,000,000 sterling;
milk, rather more than L.750,000; groceries, upwards of
L.3,000,000 ; bread, L.1,520,000; meat, L.1,600,000 ;
vegetables, about L.600,000. The number of bakers, as
fixed by law, is 601; of butchers, 500 ; of restaurateurs,
1720; and of wine and spirit dealers, 3182.
The trade of Paris is very extensive. In the variety and
importance of its productions it is surpassed by few cities
in the world. The special exports of the city were valued
in 1837 at L.3,760,000 ; in 1847, at L.6,742,887; in^l848
(a year of revolutions), at L.6,120,000; in 1851, at
L.8,800,000; and in 1852, at L.8,860,000. The average,
calculated on the last sixteen years, gives a yearly value of
L.4,640,888. The number of trades in the city is 32o,
carded on by 65,000 masters, 205,000 workmen, 112,800
women, 16,600 boys, and 7700 girls. The trades con¬
nected with dress produce nearly 10 millions sterling a-
year; those with food about 9 millions; those with builcl-
in<>- about 6 millions; furniture about 5% millions ; jewel¬
lery about 4 millions; bronze about a million ; basket¬
making, &c., nearly as much; hats three-quarters of a million,
and gloves more than half a million. The looms engaged in
the shawl trade are 752 in number; the manufactories of ha¬
berdashery are 999; there are 879 millinery shops, 225 ready¬
made clothes shops, 653 stay-makers, 644 hatters, 191o ca¬
binetmakers, 222 carvers, 519 upholsterers, 141 paper-
stainers, 120 mirror-makers, and 450 decorators.
The history and statistics of the university of Pa¬
ris are given in the articles France and Universi¬
ties. The students attending the various faculties num¬
ber about 6500. Of the schools and lycees, the most
important are,—The College Imperial de France, with a
staff of 28 professors; the Musee Imperial d’Histoire
Naturelle, with 17 professors ; the Conservatoire des Arts
et Metiers, for the technical education of artizans, with 14 Paris,
professors; the ficole Normale, with 18 professors and 80v/—*
students ; the Lycee Louis-le-Grand, with 42 professors,
370 boarders, and 500 day scholars ; the Lycee Napoleon,
18 professors and 350 boarders; the Lycee St Louis, 45
professors, 340 boarders, and 500 day scholars ; the Lycee
Charlemagne, 40 professors and 800 day scholars; the
Lycee Bonaparte, 33 professors and 1100 day scholars; the
College Stanislas, with 10 professors and 200 boarders ; and
the College Ste. Barbe, with 80 professors and 1000 board¬
ers and day pupils. Besides these, there are special schools,
for the most part belonging to government. The principal
of these are the three military schools,—the Ecole Polytech¬
nique, with 300 pupils ; the Iflcole des Ponts et Chaussees,
with 15 professors and 100 students; and the Ecole de
I’fCtat Major: the ficole des Mines, for the study of geo¬
logy, mining, &c.; the ficole des Charles, for the study of
the ancient manuscripts in the various public libraries of
France ; the Ecole des Beaux Arts, for painting and sculp¬
ture, and architecture, with 20 professors; the Conserva¬
toire de Musique, with 10 bursaries of L.40 each, and 600
pupils. The three colleges municipaux of Rollin, Chaptal,
and Turgot, belonging to the city of Paris, give a good
commercial education at a very moderate cost. The pri¬
vate “ institutions” and “ pensions” are under government
control. There are 50 institutions, and 240 pensions for
boys; and 180 institutions,and 123 pensions for girls. There
are 22 adult schools, attended by 2700 pupils. Of the
ecoles primaires, there are, for boys, 33 ecoles mutuelles,
and 30 ecoles simultanees ; for girls, 35 of the former class,
and 32 of the latter. The ecoles mutuelles have 13,700
pupils of both sexes ; the ecoles simultanees, 15,600. The
expense of these primary schools to the municipality is
about L.54,800 annually.
The prisons of Paris are eight in number,—the Prison
Modele or Nouvelle Force, a model prison with accommo¬
dation for 1260 inmates, and costing annually about L.4000;
the Maison d’Arret des Madelonnettes, with about 600 in¬
mates, and costing annually about L.1500; the Depot de la
Prefecture de Police, a place of temporary confinement,
where accused persons are kept for twenty-four hours, after
which they are either liberated or removed to some of the
other jails; the Conciergerie in the Palais de Justice, in which
prisoners are kept during their trial; the debtors prison,
holding 300 to 400 inmates, and costing about L.1200
a year; Ste. Pelagie, with an average population of about
550 persons, and costing about L.1600 annually ; St Lazare,
with an average population of from 900 to 1100, and cost¬
ing about L.3000 annually; the Depot des Condamnes, with
an average of 400 inmates, and an annual cost of L.1400 ;
and the Maison Centrale d’Education Correctionnelle, or
Prison des Jeunes Detenus, with an average of 500 inmates,
and an annual cost of L.1280.
The number of theatres in Paris is at present twenty-
three, with about 34,000 seats, and a nightly average of
about 20,000 spectators. The principal theatres, such as the
Italian Opera, the Frangais, and the Opera-Comique, besides
others, are subsidized by government. The Grand or French
Opera is now managed by government altogether. The
secondary theatres are the Odeon, the 1 heatre Lyrique, the
Vaudeville, Gymnase, Varietes, Porte St Martin, &c.
There is also an equestrian circus in the Champs Elysees,
besides two hippodromes, one at the east and the other at
the west end of the city, capable of accommodating each
about 10,000 spectators. The annual receipts of these
places of amusement average now about half a million ster¬
ling, 10 per cent, of which is claimed by government for
the maintenance of the hospitals and charitable institutions.
The public gardens, concerts, and balls, which are very nu¬
merous, are frequented by crowds of pleasure-seekers both
in summer and winter
PAR
Paris is the seat of the imperial government of the ex-
' ecutive and legislative authorities, of the Cour de Cassa¬
tion (supreme court of appeal), and of an archbishop whose
suffragans are the bishops of Meaux, Versailles, Chartres,
Orleans, and Blois. It is the head-quarters of the first
military division which comprises the departments of Seine,
Seine-et-Oise, Oise, Seine-et-Marne, Aube, Yonne, Loiret,
and Eure-et-Loire. For municipal purposes it is divided
into twelve arrondissements, each of which is subdivided
into four quarters. Each arrondissement has a separate
municipality, presided over by a mayor and two deputy-
mayors. The prefect of the Seine, is the chief municipal
authority of the capital. Under him is a council of pre¬
fecture, composed of five members and a secretary-general,
with a municipal and departmental commission consisting
of 36 members. The members of this commission are
also members of the council-general of the department,
which comprises eight additional members for the arron¬
dissements of Sceaux and St Denis. (Galignani’s Pans
Guide; Malte-Brun; Balbi; Theophile Lavallee’s Histoire
de Paris; MacCulloch’s Geographical Dictionary; An-
nuaire de VEconomic Politique ; &c. (j. C—L.)
PARIS, surnamed Alexander, was the second son of
Priam and Hecuba, the King and Queen of Troy. His
birth was attended by the most singular circumstances.
Immediately before he was born, his mother dreamed that
she brought forth a torch, which set fire to the whole city.
This dream was interpreted to mean that the coming in¬
fant would bring destruction upon Troy. Accordingly, no
sooner had the child come into the world than his terrified
parents, devoting him to death, exposed him on the neigh¬
bouring mountain of Ida. There he was suckled by a she-
bear, until, at the end of five days, a shepherd found him,
took him home, and adopted him. As the youthful Paris
grew up, his princely endowments, shining forth from under
his humble peasant-garb, began to exercise their legitimate
influence. His graceful and refined comeliness won the
heart of (Enone, the beautiful daughter of a river-god. He
became the champion of the shepherds in their conflicts
with the wild beasts of the forest, and was honoured
with the surname of Alexander, “ the defender of men.”
The fame of his exquisite taste and accomplishments
even reached the ears of the immortals, and procured for
him a notable honour. A golden apple, bearing the in¬
scription “ for the fairest,” was brought to him from the
gods ; he was commanded to award it; and Juno, Minerva,
and Venus presented themselves before him in the vale of
Ida as the claimants. Besides dazzling his eyes with the
uncovered brilliancy of their celestial charms, the goddesses
tempted his judgment with bribes. Juno promised him a
kingdom, Minerva military glory, and Venus the fairest
woman in the world. The last offer won the partiality of
the susceptible judge, and he awarded the prize to the god¬
dess of love.
This decision led Paris into a course of action which
brought ruin upon his native country. Having been dis¬
covered and recognised to be the son of Priam, he was
placed in a position in which he resolved to avail himself
of the promise which Venus had given to him. Hearing,
therefore, of the surpassing beauty of Helen, the wife of
Menelaus, King of Sparta, he fitted out a fleet, repaired to
her husband’s court under the guise of friendship, carried
her off, and brought her home to his father’s palace. The
Greek chieftains soon arrived at the head of their forces to
exact the restoration of the seduced queen ; and thus the
Trojan war, which ended in the destruction of Troy, was
begun. During this famous struggle Paris did not show
his usual valour. It is true that he twice advanced to meet
his injured foe Menelaus; but on the first occasion he
fled ignominiously before the Spartan hero, and on the
second he would have been slain had not Venus interposed
PAR 285
to save him. It is also true that he slew Mnesthius, and Paris,
wounded Diomede and other Greek heroes; but he was
fonder of passing the day in idle dalliance than of fighting
before the walls of the city. The death of Paris is said to
have been caused by one of the arrows of Hercules shot
from the bow of Philoctetes. Apollo is reported to have
assumed his form in order to slay Achilles.
Paris, Matthew, one of the earliest of English chroni¬
clers, flourished in the thirteenth century, and is supposed
(as his surname seems to imply) to have been born or edu¬
cated in the capital of France. Although a poor Benedictine
monk in the monastery of St Albans, he appears to have
attained to note in public life. Henry III. held him in
great favour and esteem ; and the Pope employed him on a
mission of reformation to the monasteries of Norway. Still
higher was his position as a man of varied acquirements.
He was well versed in history, theology, and the general
learning of his age; and he was adorned with the accom¬
plishments of an architect, a painter, an orator, and a poet.
But it was in the character of a historian that his greatest
fame was achieved. Indefatigable in his search after the
fullest historical accounts, he embodied in a condensed
form all the substance of former chroniclers, and was care¬
ful to add all the possible information regarding his own
time. His principal work, entitled Historia Major, con¬
sists of an emended copy of Roger of Wendover’s Flowers
of History, carrying the narrative as far as 1235, and a
supplement continuing the story down to 1273. It was
first printed by Archbishop Parker in 1571, and it has
been frequently reprinted both in London and Paris. An
English translation, by the Rev. J. A. Giles, forms 3 vols.
of Bohn’s Antiquarian Library.
To his chief work Matthew Paris wrote an abridgment,
entitled Historia Minor, and a supplement containing
Lives of the Two Offas, Kings of Mercia, and of Twenty-
three Abbots of St Albans, and Additamenta. The former
exists only in manuscript, the latter is printed in the edi¬
tion of the Historia Magna by Dr William Watts, fol.,
London, 1640.
Paris, John Ayrton, an eminent physician, was born at
Cambridge in 1785. His educational career was marked
by uncommon devotion to learning. At an age as early as
fourteen he began the study of medicine under Dr Bradley
of London. Entering Caius College in his native town in
1803, he made himself familiar with the classics, and dipped
into chemistry and botany. Then he studied medicine at
Edinburgh, and took his degree of M.D. at Cambridge,
with so much credit, that in his twenty-third year he was
appointed physician to the Westminster Hospital. After
staying for a short time in London, Dr Paris settled at
Penzance in Cornwall; and there a new field of study was
opened up before his active mind. The physical character
of the county induced him to devote his leisure hours to
the pursuits of the geologist. He published several papers
on geology, wrote a geological Guide to Mount s Bay and
Lands End, and founded the Royal Geological Society of
Cornwall, one of the earliest societies of the kind in the
kingdom. He also invented the “ tamping-bar,” an iron
implement covered with copper, which miners can use with¬
out incurring the danger of striking fire from the rock, and
igniting gunpowder or inflammable gas. In 1810 Dr
Paris, returning to London, entered upon a long career of
professional and scientific industry. His duties as a phy¬
sician were performed with all the cheerful ardour of one
who loves his calling for its own sake. At the same time,
he laboured with the pen to promote medical science. His
Pharmacologia, his Treatise on Diet, his Elements of Me¬
dical Chemistry, and his Elements of Medical Jurispru¬
dence, written in conjunction with Fonblanque, were all
produced amid the hurry of numerous engagements. The
great eminence of Dr Paris was recognised with the high-
286 PAR
Parish. est honours. He was a D.C.L. of Oxford, and a fellow of
the Royal Society and other learned societies in London.
He was also president of the London College ot Physi¬
cians, a position which he held from 1844 till his death in
December 1856. Dr Paris was the author of an ano¬
nymous work entitled Philosophy in Sport made Science
in Earnest, and of an excellent biography of his friend Sir
Humphry Davy.
PARISH, the precinct of a parochial church, or a circuit
of ground inhabited by people who belong to one church,
and are under the particular charge of its minister. The
word comes from the Latin parochia, and the Greek tto.-
pouaa, habitation, compounded of rrapa, near, and oikos,
house. Accordingly, Du Cange observes, that the name
impoiKLa was anciently applied to the whole territory of a
bishop, because the primitive Christians, not daring to as¬
semble openly in cities, were forced to meet secretly in
the neighbouring houses. In the ancient church there was
one large edifice in each city for the people to meet in, and
this they called parochia, or parish. But the signification of
the word was afterwards enlarged, and by a parish was meant
a diocese, or the extent of the jurisdiction of a bishop, con¬
sisting of several churches; unless we suppose, as some do,
that those bishops were only pastors of single churches.
Dupin observes, that country parishes were unknown before
the fourth century; but those of cities are more ancient.
The city of Alexandria is said to have been the first which
was divided into parishes. Of the first division of parishes
there is no certain information ; for in the early ages of
Christianity in this island, parishes were unknown, or at
least signified the same thing as diocese. There was then
no appropriation of ecclesiastical dues to any particular
church ; but every man was at liberty to contribute his
tithes to any priest or church that he pleased ; or if he made
no special appropriation of them, they were paid to the
bishop, whose duty it was to distribute them. amongst the
clergy, and for other pious purposes, according to his own
discretion. Camden says {Britannia, p. 160) that Eng¬
land was divided into parishes by Archbishop Honorius
about the year 630. Sir Henry Hobart maintains that
parishes were first erected by the council of Lateran, held
in the year 1179. But Selden {History of Tithes, chap,
ix.) proves that the clergy lived in common, without any
division of parishes, long after the time mentioned by Cam¬
den ; and it appears from the Saxon law that parishes
were in being long before the Council of Lateran in 1179.
The distinction of parishes first occurs in the laws of Ed¬
gar about the year 970. It seems pretty certain, says Jus¬
tice Blackstone {Com., vol. i., p. 112), that the boundaries
of parishes were first ascertained by those of a manor or
manors ; because it very seldom happens that a manor ex¬
tends itself over more than one parish, although there
are often many manors in one parish. As Christianity
spread, the lords began to build churches upon their own
demesnes or wastes, in order to accommodate their tenants
in one or two adjoining lordships; and, that they might
have divine service regularly performed therein, they obliged
all their tenants to appropriate their tithes to the mainte¬
nance of the one officiating minister, instead of leaving them
at liberty to distribute them amongst the clergy of the dio¬
cese in general. The tract of land, the tithes of which
were thus appropriated, formed a distinct parish ; a circum¬
stance which accounts for the frequent intermixture of pa¬
rishes one with another. For if a lord had a parcel of land
detached from the main part of his estate, but not sufficient
to form a parish of itself, it was natural for him to endow
his newly-erected church with the tithes of such lands.
Since 1818 important improvements have taken place in
the parochial divisions of England through the appointment
of “ The Ecclesiastical Commissioners.’' (See Stephen’s
Comm., vol. iii., p. 102, &c.)
PAR
PARISH-CLERK, a person in every parish whose duty Parish-
it is to assist the parson in the rites and ceremonies of the Oierk
church. Parish-clerks were formerly clerks in orders, and il
their business at first was to officiate at the altar, for which rark'
they had a competent maintenance by offerings ; but they ''““‘■V’"”
are now generally laymen, and have certain fees at christen¬
ings, marriages, and burials, besides wages for their main¬
tenance. The parish-clerk is generally appointed by the
incumbent, but by custom may be chosen by the inhabi¬
tants. By the common law, parish-clerks have freeholds
in their offices, but may (by statute 7 and 8 Viet., c. 59)
be suspended by the archdeacon for misconduct or neglect.
PARK, Mungo, a celebrated traveller, was born at
Fowlshiels, near Selkirk, on the 10th of September 1771.
His father occupied the farm of Fowlshiels under the Duke
of Buccleuch. He appears to have bestowed uncommon
attention on the education of his children ; and he even
employed a tutor to reside in his house, an expense which
was then supposed to exceed the resources of an ordinary
farmer. Young Park made a good figure at school. His
general demeanour was reserved and thoughtful; yet occa¬
sional sparks of ambition broke forth, indicative of that ad¬
venturous spirit which lay concealed under a somewhat
cold exterior. This thoughtful disposition led his friends
to consider the church as the profession best suited to his
character ; but as he himself preferred physic to theology,
his wishes were acquiesced in ; and he spent three years at
the university of Edinburgh in the studies necessary to
qualify him for that profession.
At Edinburgh, Park studied with ardour and success; and
in particular he imbibed a fondness for botany, which served
to give a strong colour to his future life. It strengthened
his natural connection with his brother-in-law, Mr James
Dickson, who, notwithstanding many disadvantages, at¬
tained such skill in that science, that, on going as a gar¬
dener to Hammersmith, he obtained a large share of the
patronage and favour of Sir Joseph Banks. Jhis connec¬
tion induced Mr Park to repair to London. He was in¬
troduced to Sir Joseph, who was so much pleased with
him that he obtained for him the appointment of assistant-
surgeon to the Worcester East Indiaman. In this capa¬
city Mr Park performed a voyage to Bencoolen, where he
made some collections and observations in botany and na¬
tural history, which were submitted to the Linnaean So¬
ciety, and an account of them printed in the third volume
of their Transactions.
The African Association were now anxiously looking out
for a successor to Major Houghton, their unfortunate mis¬
sionary, who had perished in the attempt to penetrate to
the Niger and Timbuctoo. This opening, although foreign
to any of Mr Park’s former pursuits except that of natural
history, was immediately embraced by him with an ardour
which showed how congenial it was to the character of his
mind. Without hesitation, he offered himself for this ar¬
duous and perilous service, and, being supported by the
recommendation of Sir Joseph Banks, he was at once
accepted.
Park spent about two years in and near London, acquir¬
ing the qualifications necessary for his mission. In May
1795 he set sail; and on the 21st of June following arrived
at Jillifree, near the mouth of the Gambia. After spend¬
ing some months with Dr Laidley at Pisania in acquiring
the Mandingo language, he, on the 2d of December 1795,
departed on his grand expedition. By what route he
reached the river, how much of its country he explored,
and by what track he returned, is described under Niger.
He arrived, after the length of his absence and the want
of intelligence respecting him had nearly extinguished all
hopes of his safety. Reaching London early in the morn¬
ing of Christmas 1797, he went to pass the time before
breakfast in the gardens of the British Museum, where, by
PAR
Park, a singular chance he met Mr Dickson, who embraced his
friend as one returned from the grave. An extraordinary
interest in his adventures was immediately excited amongst
the African Institution, its friends, and the public in
general. Major Rennell drew up an important memoir,
showing the new light thrown by his journey upon African
geography, which, with an abstract of his narrative by Mr
Bryan Edwards, was speedily offered, to satisfy the curiosity
of the public. In the spring of 1799 Mr Park presented
the public with a full narrative from his own pen. Major
Rennell’s memoir was appended, and a considerable part of
Mr Edwards’ abstract was incorporated verbatim ; upon
which circumstance alone seems to have been built the
rumour of that gentleman having been the actual writer of
the volume. The work was read with an avidity propor¬
tioned to the novelty and importance of the information
contained in it, and to the interesting and agreeable man¬
ner in which the events were narrated.
Having finished this task, Mr Park seems to have re¬
solved to retire into domestic and professional life. In
1799 he married Miss Anderson of Selkirk, daughter of the
gentleman with whom he had served his apprenticeship as
a surgeon. In October 1801 he embraced a professional
career at Peebles, and soon found himself in respectable
practice. He now seemed sufficiently comfortable, being
happy in domestic life, possessed of a competence, and
surrounded by respectable society; yet his active mind
was secretly panting after a higher sphere of exertion.
Important as were his discoveries, their effect had been,
not to satisfy, but to excite still farther, the public curiosity.
The course of the Niger through the unknown and cen¬
tral parts of the continent could not fail to excite peculiar
interest. This was strongly felt, not only by the scien¬
tific world, but by some intelligent members of administra¬
tion, who, on the conclusion of the peace in 1801, deter¬
mined to fit out an expedition on a great scale, to effect
the discovery of the termination of this great river. In
autumn 1803, Lord Hobart, afterwards Earl of Bucking¬
hamshire, who was then colonial secretary, offered the com¬
mand of it to Mr Park, who, though he asked a short interval
to consult his friends, seems never in his own mind to
have hesitated as to its acceptance. To those who repre¬
sented to him the dangers that were to be incurred, he
urged, that the hardships attendant on the exercise of his
profession, his journeys to distant patients, his long and soli¬
tary rides over “cold and lonely heaths,” and over “gloomy
hills, assailed by the wintry tempest,” would tend as effectu¬
ally to shorten life as the journey now in contemplation.
Accordingly he set sail from Portsmouth on the 30th
January 1805. The melancholy history of this second ex¬
pedition is well known. With what equipments he de¬
parted from Pisania on the 4th May 1805, how his forty-
four European companions dwindled down to four, and how
he was at last drowned at Boussa, is related under Niger.1
Park has been pronounced by some the first of modern
travellers. Without altogether adopting this opinion, we
may observe, that the problem of the course of the Niger,
which he had the fortune partially to solve, was one which
had involved in error almost all former geographical systems
on Africa. D’Anville, indeed, had stated it correctly ;
but as he had not communicated the grounds upon which
his conclusion rested, the opposite opinion, which repre¬
sented the Niger as flowing westward, and joining the
ocean by the channel of the Senegal, continued still pre-
va ent. I his point, finally decided, fixed the geographical
PAR 287
character of the continent. In Bambarra, also, a name Parker,
as yet scarcely heard of by Europeans, Park found a king-
dom much farther advanced in civilization than had yet
been supposed to exist in the heart of Africa.
Mr Park’s literary, though not equal to his active quali¬
fications, were nevertheless respectable. But notwithstand¬
ing his knowledge of botany, he cannot be considered as a
scientific traveller. We see not in him that varied and
splendid science which, in Humboldt, illustrates and adorns,
though it sometimes overlays, the main subject. But with
regard to the general aspect of nature, and the forms of
human society, his observations are careful, accurate, and
judicious. Nothing can be more lively than the idea which
we receive from him of the African forests and deserts, the
cities of Bambarra, the stream of the Niger or Joliba, and
the regions watered by that river. The spirit, joined to the
simplicity of his narrative, has rendered his work one of the
most popular of its kind in the English language.
Mr Park’s bodily frame was well fitted for the arduous
enterprises in which he engaged. He was six feet in height,
his limbs were well proportioned, and his whole frame was
active and robust. His countenance was prepossessing, and
his manners always retained their native plainness and sim¬
plicity. But this was combined with a natural coldness and
reserve, which rendered his conversation less interesting
than was expected by those who considered his general ta¬
lents and extensive opportunities of observation. His con¬
duct in all the relations of private life was highly exemplary.
He left a widow, three sons, and a daughter. (h. m.)
PARKER, Matthew, the second Protestant Archbishop
of Canterbury, was born at Norwich in 1504, and entered
the university of Cambridge in 1520 as a student of Corpus
Christi College. His studies were prosecuted with dis¬
tinction. In 1523 he took a bachelor’s degree; in 1527
he was ordained, created a Master of Arts, and chosen a
fellow; and by this time he had become so eminent for his
theological attainments that he received an offer, which
was not, however, accepted, of a chair in Wolsey’s newly-
founded college at Oxford. This successful career as a
scholar was followed by a still more successful career as a
priest. Having received a preaching license from Arch¬
bishop Cranmer in 1533, he was often appointed to preach
at court. In a short time his learning, piety, and attach¬
ment to the Reforming party in the Church, recommended
him to the favour of the royal family; and a succession of
preferments was the result. Anne Boleyn made him her
chaplain in 1534 ; Henry VIII. appointed him one of the
king’s chaplains in 1537 ; and Edward VI. presented him
to the deanery of Lincoln in 1552. He was also receiv¬
ing at the same time several other dignities and rich bene¬
fices. During the reign of Mary, Parker was deprived of
all his honours and preferments, and was obliged to seek
safety in obscurity. Scarcely grieving at the misfortune
which allowed him to enjoy literary leisure and domestic
intercourse, he lived in the houses of his Norfolk friends,
and devoted his attention to the translation of the book of
Psalms into English. Occasionally the emissaries of the
bloody queen would track him to his studious retreats, and
force him to flee. He continued to shift about from one
place to another until the accession of Elizabeth in 1559
restored him to favour and influence. Parker was then
nominated archbishop of Canterbury ; and the duty of
building up the Protestant church of England out of the
ruins of Popery was entrusted to him. This great task he per¬
formed with rare assiduity, courage, and magnanimity. He
e narrative of this journey was published in 1815 in 4to, with a very interesting biographical memoir and preface by Mr Wishaw.
may not be amiss to notice here a singular oversight in Park’s Journal observed by M. Walckenaer. A 31st day is counted in
P- as t}le day8 before and after are accounted for, there can be no doubt that all the following dates are one day be-
in . this, as Mr Bowdich has shown, is not so trifling an error as at first sight it appears; for a false declination being thus taken,
an error, greater or less, and sometimes not inconsiderable, is committed in the calculation of all the subsequent latitudes.
288 PAR
Parliament dared to discountenance that lingering attachment to the
^ relics of Poperv which was manifested by the queen her¬
self. His influence was constantly exerted to supply the
vacant cures with men of orthodoxy, learning, and piety.
Although no bigoted devotee of mere ecclesiastical forma¬
lities, he strove to preserve the unity of the church by
enjoining an uniformity in habits and ceremonies. He also
promoted the growth of vital religion among the com¬
munity by his daily exercise of deep piety, public-spirited
zeal, and active Christian benevolence. Nor did the liberal-
minded primate fail to advance the cause of religion still
further by advancing the cause of general enlightenment.
A munificent patron of learning, he founded several schools,
and presented several of the colleges at Cambridge wit i
scholarships, fellowships, and with large bequests of plate,
money, books, and manuscripts. A zealous lover also ot
learning, he prosecuted antiquarian and kindred studies
with great success. The edition of the Scriptures called
The Bishops’ Bible, and the treatise Be Antiquitate Bn-
tannicceEcclesice, were produced under his superintendence;
and he printed the four old English historians—Matthew
of Westminster, Matthew Paris, Asser, and Thomas Wal-
singham. The death of Archbishop Parker took place in
PAR
1575. (Strype’s Life and Acts of Matthew Parker, in 3 Parkgate
vols., Oxford, 1821; and Biographia Britannica.) II
PARKGATE, a small town of Cheshire, on the right Parllament
bank of the estuary of the Dee, 10 miles N. by W. of
Chester. It is neatly and regularly built, and is much
frequented for sea-bathing. The harbour is obstructed by
a sand-bank; but it is a station for packets sailing to Ire¬
land. A fine view of the coast of Flintshire may be ob¬
tained from the town.
PARKHURST, John, a learned lexicographer, was
born at Catesby in Northamptonshire in 1728, and at¬
tended the school of Rugby. Having become a student
of Clare Hall, Cambridge, he took the degree of M.A.,
was elected a fellow of his college, and entered into holy
orders. A handsome competence which he inherited
enabled him to devote all his time to literary pursuits.
Accordingly, till his death in 1797, he assiduously applied
himself, in spite of a weak constitution, to biblical studies.
His principal works, a Hebrew and English Lexicon, with¬
out Points, and a Greek and English Lexicon to the New
Testament, became very popular, and have been often re¬
printed. The latest edition of the former was published
in 1845, that of the latter in 1851.
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament is the name of the supreme legislature of
Great Britain. The immediate derivation of the word is
disputed, but that it has a common etymological source
with the Frenchto speak, cannot be doubted. Ihe
term is not confined to Britain. It long designated in
France a set of institutions which performed some adminis¬
trative functions, but were properly the chief provincial
courts of justice. The body, which for some time in France
was the parallel of the English Parliament, and appeared
to be marching on to the same high destinies, was called
the States-General, or the three estates. These had many
formidable contests with the Crown before they were sup¬
pressed, or rather dropped out of the rank of French na¬
tional institutions. Their last ordinary meeting was in
1614, under Louis XIII., and much interest subsequently
bore on the proceedings of that assemblage, as they formed
the latest precedents for the guidance of that memorable
re-assemblage of the states-general, which ushered in the
dawn of the great Revolution. The Cortes of Spain were
a parliament powerful and free, and at one time also pro¬
mising a noble rivalry with that of England. In Other-
countries the institution has been more or less developed,
but the true object will best be served by adhering entirely,
under the article Parliament, to an account of the su¬
preme legislature of the United Kingdom, the most illus¬
trious development of representative government, and the
model on which all other sound constitutions must neces¬
sarily be framed in spirit if not in detail, as being the great
storehouse of legislative wisdom, in which all that has been
ever devised by political philosophy, has been put to the
test of practical application. This notice will therefore be
confined, after a rapid history of its rise in the three king¬
doms, to a statement of the existing constitution and prac¬
tice of the Parliament of the United Kingdom.
History of It has hitherto been an idle task to endeavour to prove
the Parlia- that Parliament belongs either to “ the institutions ot our
* Saxon ancestors,” or the feudal system. In its present state,
it is as much the creation of a high social development, an
perfected political science, as the railway and the electuc
telegraph are the developments ot mechanical and chemica
science. Whatever glimpses we have of the early progress
of the institution, must be considered as the efforts of a
practical people, making use of such established institutions
ment of
England.
as fell to their lot, towards the perfection of a free and
strong system of representative government. It is far safer,
in tracing the history of this progress, to take such palpable
facts as occur from time to time, showing stages in the
development, than to rely on theoretic views. It may per¬
haps be true, that the spirit of the institutions of our Saxon
ancestors influenced the subsequent progress of Parliament,
but very little satisfaction has come out of any attempts to
show that the Saxons possessed an institution practically
resembling our Parliament. The practices which are
among the earliest, and are among the present characteris¬
tics of Parliament, cannot be traced into the Saxon period ;
because we cannot find there the royal summoning, the
hereditary principle, and the representative principle ; while
the institution of slavery, which made a large portion of the
community not only the inferiors, but the absolute property
of the other, was antagonistic to the spirit of feudal grada¬
tion, which gave to the great lords individual power as legis¬
lators, and to the smaller people collective power as the
choosers of representatives.
We know that the earliest Norman kings not only acted
on the advice and consent of certain persons eminently
powerful among their subjects, but stated the concurrence
of such persons in the official promulgations of the roya
will, as giving it strength and validity from their constitu¬
tional authority. Antiquaries have been much puzzled to
identify the common or general council consulted by these
early kings; but there is no doubt that there has been
much confusion about the meaning of the word concilium
or consilium, as employed in old documents ; and thus it
has been supposed to indicate a council or body of persons,
when it meant in reality the advice or counsel given by
those persons whether assembled or not. (bee Municipal
Corporation.) Sometimes, too, the act of a sovereign,
or even so important a thing as the succession of a sovereign,
does not profess to be merely sanctioned by the advice or
by the consent of any limited assemblage of persons, how¬
ever important, but bears to be by the assent or choice of the
whole community ; and, as in modern times, the universality
of the assent or choice was often the more strongly asserted
the farther it was from the truth. Whatever were the
qualifications of the advisers who surrounded the early Nor¬
man kings, thev must have been expected to be numerous,
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament since Westminster Hall was built by Rufus for their recep-
\ ^ j tion. Their duties were as much judicial and administra-
IParliament tive as they were legislative. The supreme courts, the
Lf England privy council, and other institutions, by degrees branched
off from this great council, carrying with them the judicial
and ministerial functions ; and the appellate jurisdiction of
the House of Lords, along with the general etiquette that all
members of that House are among the sovereign’s council¬
lors, remain to us as relics of the judicial and ministerial
functions of these early Parliaments. The term Parlia¬
ment was first used towards them in the reign of Henry III.
In the mean time traces are found-of an important distinc¬
tion. Whatever was the rank of the persons attending the
Parliament or great council, they were all tenants-in-chief
of the king,—all immediately attached to him, and not un¬
der anv mediate superior in the feudal hierarchy. In the
charter of King John a difference was made according to
their rank in the method of requiring their attendance.
The great barons were to be individually required to attend
by special writ addressed to each ; the othfer tenants-in-
chief, not called barons, were called by a general summons—
seeming to imply, that such of them as thought fit, or were
delegated by their brethren, might attend. It is here that
we have the germ of a House of Lords, consisting of men
who are legislators by individual right, and of a House
of Commons, consisting of chosen respresentatives. The
marks of another significant distinction may be found in
these early vestiges. The charters then sa frequently issued
were bargains by the monarch; among other things, assuring
his subjects, that he would not take from them talliages or
taxes, save such as were due. The promise not to take
did not involve a promise not to ask ; and the chief early
function of Parliaments was to receive royal appeals for
money. Now, by the great barons or tenants of royal
demesnes, considerable taxes were due to the Crown by
feudal law, and did not require to be asked ; and we find
the monarch taking his dues from them, and craving more
from those tenants of knights’ fees, or portions of them, who
had enriched themselves with other kinds of property, and
who possessed wealth, which, unlike that of the tenants of
the great demesnes of the Crown, was not legally taxable.
When we find these consenting to share in the burden, we
have the foreshadowing of a Lower House asserting arid
jealously maintaining the exclusive right of dealing with all
matters of supply. Another peculiar mark of distinction
tends in the same direction. The ecclesiastical lords, the
bishops and abbots, sat, like the first temporal lords, as the
tenants of baronies or estates; and it is said that the bishops
are still a living relic of this primitive system of enoblement.
Like the other great barons, these ecclesiastics were liable
to pay feudal dues and taxes without being specially asked
for an aid. When the king, however, wished an aid from
the clergy at large, irrespective of their baronies, they
granted it sitting in a separate assembly or convocation of
their own.
Originally, as is well known, the tenure of a baronial
fief from the king made a baron or lord of Parliament.
Whoever legally possessed that estate, was, in virtue of it, a
lord of Parliament without any separate title. In the course
of time, however, the monarch began to create higher dig¬
nities of his own special grant. The dukedom, taken from
the practice of the Roman empire ; the marquisate, or
margravate, copied from a later institution of the empire,
which appointed great lordships, partaking of the nature of
monarchies, on the marches for the protection of the empire;
the earldom, a revival of an old Saxon title; and the vis¬
county. I he mere barons by tenure not unwillingly ac-
289
cepted of these dignities, which naturally overshadowed, Parliament
and at,length superseded, the humbler barony by tenure, v ^ y
The title of baron fell at last to be conferred in the same Parliament
manner by royal writ or patent; and the peers of England of England
came to be virtually peers by writ and not by tenure. The
question, whether the old enobling by tenure still exists,
though latent, has curiously enough just reappeared, as we
shall presently see.
With regard to the Commons, the earliest summons of
a limited number of the lesser freeholders has been as¬
signed to the year 1213, when King John, citing his barons,
required the sheriffs at the same time to cause to come to
the king at Oxford four discreet knights from each shire
to talk with him about the affairs of his kingdom.1 To see,
however, how the representative system was brought out,
we must turn to another and not a naturally obvious
source.
The municipalities which arose throughout England
became part of the feudal hierarchy—they were chief te¬
nants of the Crown. (See Municipal Corporation.)
However its position in the hierarchy might be theoreti¬
cally adjusted, there was no possibility of calling the
community of a city, like an individual baron, to attend
the king’s court. But in the old Roman constitution of
the municipality there was a remedy for the difficulty.
Although a community, it had a head,—a representative of
its several members for the management of its internal
affairs. The idea had to be but slightly extended, and the
same, or another, selected head might represent the muni¬
cipality in the king’s Parliament. There can be no more
emphatic reproach to those who insist on founding our par¬
liamentary system solely on Saxon, or solely on feudal
usages, than "thus to find that it took one of the most valu¬
able of all hints for its development from that Roman law
which was professedly so much detested in England. It is
well known, that the municipalities or burghs were first
called to Parliament by the renowned Simon de Montfort
in 1264; and there can be little doubt that the very apt
method of representation which they found to their hand im¬
mediately reduced to symmetry the vague and undefined ar¬
rangements by which a few of the freeholders appeared for
themselves and their brethren in the Lower House. How
Parliament from this time onward grew in strength and
efficiency is matter of history, and will in some measure be
explained when the functions of Parliament are treated of
in this article. The juncture at which the principle was
established that the assent of the two Houses is necessary
to every legislative act, has been assigned by Hallam and
others to the reign of Edward IV. It was very soon after¬
wards that they asserted the right to inquire concerning
grievances, and demand their redress. 1 he feebleness of
the Crown has ever been the opportunity of Parliament.
During the reign of Richard II., England, as well as Eu-^
rope at large, was swept by a revolutionary outbreak of
the oppressed serfs of the soil, who, in France, rendered
themselves ever memorable as the Jacquerie. In Eng¬
land there was an intermediate body, powerful to keep
order, but at the same time not negligent of the opportunity
for augmenting its own strength; and while the cause of
order and the law triumphed over Tyler’s rebellion, a part
of the power for their enforcement was found to have
changed hands from the king to the Parliament. In this
reign the Commons achieved the important function, in
addition to the granting of the supplies, of assigning them to
their destined uses. Soon afterwards, but not without a
stubborn resistance, they accomplished a material change
in the order of business. They used to present their
^ In this and the immediately preceding statements, the best general reference that can be made is to the somewhat voluminous Re¬
ports from the Lords' Committees appointed to search the Journals of the House, Rolls of Parliament, and other Records and Documents, for
all matters touching the dignity of a Peer of the Realm —an enormous mine of information on matters connected with the early history of
Parliament. ’
VOL. XVII. 2 o
290
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament grievances, then grant their supply and receive the redress
' of the grievances—not always satisfactory—at the end of
Parliament the session. They now insisted that the redress should be
of England obtained before the supply was granted. In this, and in
other instances, the disputes between the English monarchs
and their Parliaments, exhibit in their bald outline the one
party relying on the mighty power of money, and using it
in utter distrust of the honesty of the other, who, in his
turn, exercises every wile to obtain possession of the money,
without performing the condition of which it is the price.
The power of Parliament gradually increased through
the despotic reigns of the Tudor kings. It is well known
that these princes had a wise aversion to trying constitu¬
tional conclusions. It was otherwise when the Stewarts
came. The lamentable conflict which then broke out,
whatever we may say of its origin, became at last a struggle
for entire supremacy between Charles Land his Parliament.
To this end the chief object of each was to get posses¬
sion of the militia or military force of the kingdom. I he
question had ever before been left open, but each was de¬
termined that it should no longer remain so, by arrogating
entire possession. How the conflict ended is too well known
to be here stated. But it is almost necessary to remind
readers that the Protectorate was still a parliamentary go¬
vernment, not a despotism. A succession of scattered no¬
tices of the debates and proceedings in the Parliaments held
under Cromwell are preserved in the curious Parliamentary
Diary of Thomas Burton. They show, when compared to
the memorials we have of other Parliaments immediately
before and after, no lack of independent discussion. They
exemplify distinctly, however, the inconveniences of throw¬
ing such a body as a Parliament, by revolutionary explosions,
out of its fixed routine. By the junction of the two Houses
into one, and the abolition of some offensive tribunals, such
as the Star Chamber, a quantity of judicial business was
thrown on the Parliament to which the procedure in the
House of Commons was not adapted. It would be difficult
to name at any other period a measure which occupied so
much time, and involved so many heavy debates, as the
disposal of Naylor, the insane Quaker. At the end of each
denunciatory debate came the question, whether there was
any law infringed by Naylor; and if so, whether the House
were the proper persons to apply it by punishment; and the
perplexing debates occasioned by this subject show the
wisdom of the House of Commons in having kept clear of
all judicial functions both before and since that period.
On the Restoration, Parliament kept to its old traditions.
There was little change in its forms until the Revolution.
Some important proceedings, affecting its power and con¬
stitution, are part of the history of the period. Among
these was the repeal of an act passed in 1641, which pro¬
vided for the assembling of a fresh Parliament within
three years after a dissolution, whether the king might
call it or not. It was not, however, the failure to call
Parliaments, but their too long continuance when called,
that became the constitutional vice of the reign. 4 he
Parliament which met in 1661 lasted for seventeen years,
becoming subservient by long continuance, as its prede¬
cessor, called the Long Parliament, had become self-willed
from the same cause.
The Revolution of 1688 was, in form, a piece of parlia¬
mentary procedure, but it essentially belongs to the geneial
history of the country. In 1694 an act was passed for
limiting the duration of Parliaments to three years. The
union with Scotland, which soon followed, renders it appro¬
priate to give a sketch of the separate progress of repre¬
sentative government in that kingdom.
Parliament Scotland the history of all political institutions is
ofScotland. broken in upon by the “ War of Independence,” in
which the country successfully resisted the attempt of the
Norman monarchs of England to extend their conquest
northwards. Before this epoch there was a close resem- Parliament
blanee in the institutions of the two countries, and the V—^
vestiges of early parliamentary history in each are in their Parliament
character identical. There "are the same convocations of Scot-
of his principal subjects to attend and advise the king, land,
without any rule from which we can at this day establish
the criterion on which they were selected ; the same du¬
bious use of the expressions “common assent” and “ general
counciland the same professions that certain acts
were done by the universal consent of the community.
The functions of such assemblages like those of England,
involved a mixture of the legislative, the judicial, and the
administrative. There are several capitularies of laws of
considerable antiquity, but it is doubtful how far they vvere
sanctioned either by a Parliament or by any less formal
assembly. After the death of Alexander III., an arrange¬
ment was made for marrying Margaret, the heiress of the
Scottish throne, with Prince Edward of England. It was
agreed to by a small Scottish Parliament, which, of course,
assembled without any royal warrant. The place of meet¬
ing was at Brigham, on the English side of the border;
and the assemblage “ consisted of the four guardians, two
of whom were bishops, of ten other bishops, twelve calls,
twenty-three abbots, eleven priors, and forty-eight barons.”
(Innes’s Preface to Acts of Scotland, § 7.) The marriage was
frustrated by the shipwreck of the princess, so well known
as the “ Maid of Norway,” on her way to Scotland. The
claims of Edward, and the selection of Balliol from among
the competitors to the throne, as the one most complacent,
followed. We are told that “ The Parliament assembled
by John Balliol at Scone, on the 9th of February 1292,
was probably the first of the national councils of Scotland
which bore that name in the country at the time, although
later historians have bestowed it freely on all assemblies
of a legislative character. We have no reason to believe
that any change in its constitution occasioned the adoption
of the new term, which soon became in Scotland, as in Eng¬
land, the received designation of the great legislative council
solemnly assembled.” (Ib.) Balliol had aftei wards a treaty
with France, which, along with those of certain bishops, eails,
and barons, bore the attesting seals of six burghs,—a fact
which would show the admission of this order to Pailiament
were it certain that there was an assembling on the occasion
of those who appended their seals to the treaty. “ Finally,
in the famous Parliament at Cambuskenneth, held on
the 15th day of July 1326, when Bruce claimed from his
people a revenue to meet the expenses of his glorious war,
and the necessities of the state, the tenth penny of all
rents, according to the old extent of King Alexander III.,
was granted to the monarch by the earls, barons, burgesses,
and free tenants in full Parliament assembled. I he change
had taken place silently and perhaps gradually ; but hence¬
forth, undoubtedly, the representatives of the burghs
formed the third estate, and an essential part of all
Parliaments and general councils.” (Ib.)
It is from this point that we find the forms and character
of the Scottish Parliament gradually diverging from those
of the English. But before describing the nature of these
divergencies, it may be proper to mention a constitutional
change copied directly from the Parliament of England,
and not on that account throwing any doubt on the diver¬
gence in question, but rather establishing it by the marked
and specific character of the exception. An early statute
of the reign of James I. abruptly enacts, “ lhat the small
barons and free tenants need not come to Parliament nor
general councils ;” and these were appointed in their several
counties to choose representatives,—two for every county,
with the exception of a few small counties, which were to
have but one. These representatives are called in the act
the “ speakers;” and their constituency being spared at¬
tendance, were bound to contribute to the necessary ex-
PARLIAMENT.
291
•parliament pense of sending them to Parliament. The ecclesiastical
i ^—> dignitaries, with “ the dukes, earls, lords of Parliament, and
Parliament hanrents,” were to continue to be summoned to Parliament
tof Scot- by “ special precept,” like the special summons issued to
land. the lords, according to the practice then old in England. It
has often been said that this act, with other measures in¬
troducing English practices in the reign of James I., may
be attributed to that monarch’s residence in England dur¬
ing his youth. Whether introduced by the monarch him¬
self or not, this measure, though it brought into Scotland
an English practice, is in striking contrast to the tenor of
English legislation, which avoided positive enactments on
constitutional questions of this kind.
While representatives from the towns, and the lesser
barons or freeholders, were thus constituent elements of the
Parliament of Scotland, this body never came to be divided
like the Parliament of England into two Houses. The high
ecclesiastics, the lords who were there by special precept
or writ, the representatives of the freeholders, and the re¬
presentatives of the citizens of royal burghs,—all sat in one
hall. The officers of the Crown had conspicuous places in
this Parliament in virtue of their offices, but had no vote
unless they were otherwise members; but they had, in
general, seats as ecclesiastical or temporal lords.
What may be called the opening scene of the French
Revolution was the question, whether a measure was to be
carried in the three estates by a general numerical majority
of the whole members, or by the approval of all the estates,
carried by a majority of the members of each. This ques¬
tion appears to have remained undecided in Scotland (where
also it became usual to call Parliament “the Three Estates”),
down to the debates on the Union. Perhaps the question
was avoided; for, in the instances where divisions are re¬
corded, it is usual to find a wnajority—sometimes the nar¬
rowest possible—in each estate. It is certain, however, that
among the many divisions on the Treaty of Union, there
are some in which there is a minority in the lords or barons,
though a general majority of the whole Parliament is re¬
corded.
That revision of a measure which the English Parlia¬
ment had found in its transference from one House to an¬
other, the Scottish Parliament seems to have sought through
a supreme committee administering in Scotland, in some
measure, the function of the House of Lords in England.
This committee was called “ The Lords of the Articles.” It
appears to have been for a long time the result of fair elec¬
tion, each estate choosing a certain number of its members.
Subsequently, however, it gradually merged into a compli¬
cated adjustment, which made the Lords of the Articles
rather the ministers of the Crown than a department of a
free Parliament. Thus, in the days of the later Stewarts,
the bishops began the election of Lords of the Articles by
choosing eight lords. These, in their turn, chose eight
bishops. The sixteen then selected eight county and eight
burgh members. These thirty-two did all the work of Par¬
liament, The Estates had scarcely any more opportunity
of acting at large throughout a whole session of Parlia¬
ment than in one meeting to select the Lords of the Articles,
and in another meeting to pass the acts which these proposed
for their acceptance. While, however, the conducting of
their business through a body so small, and so equivocally
constituted, brought the Scottish Estates much under the in¬
fluence of the Crown, they had their own peculiar elements
of independence different from those enjoyed by the English
Parliament. In England two things came to be matter of
very strict constitutional practice ; jfirSt, that Acts of Parlia¬
ment could only be passed by Parlikmdrlts summoned by the
Crown; and, second, that all acts of Pailiament must have the
loyal assent, otherwise they were not law. Neither principle
was established in Scotland. The mostlimportant Parliament
that ever met there—the Parliamentil which abolished the
power of the Church of Rome, and virtually carried the Re- Parliament
formation—had no royal sanction. There was no solemn v
form for administering the royal assent to a measure. A
practice had grown up of touching acts of Parliament with
the sceptre, but it was often maintained that this was a mere
formal courtesy, by which the sovereign acknowledged the
existence of an act passed by the Estates, and announced that
he had no objection to it. Some of the older acts were
passed with so little deference to the sovereign’s will, that
it was considered immaterial whether he touched them with
the sceptre or not. So lately, however, as Queen Anne’s
reign, when the Act of Security was passed for severing
Scotland from England, it was maintained by some of the
members that, if the policy then prevailing in England
should continue, when the touching of the sceptre was re¬
fused, the States had the inherent right of making it law
without any royal assent, and would do so.
This was one of the events which brought on the Union. The Union.
The Estates had in the meantime been freed from the Lords
of the Articles, and other restraints, by the Revolution, which
had at once converted them into a body possessed of all the
English freedom of debate, without those rules of parlia¬
mentary action which had made the conduct of business
so strict in England while debate was free. Many causes
of fierce dispute arose between the two nations, among
which not the least formidable were proceedings by the
English Houses of Parliament for inquiry into matters which
occurred in Scotland. The Scots were denied participa¬
tion in the English shipping and colonial privileges; and
when they endeavoured to establish a colony of their own,
its promoters—members of the'Scottish Estates—were called
before the English Parliament to answer for an invasion of
the privileges conferred on English commercial companies.
The Scottish Estates threatened to form alliances and con¬
nections of their own; and it was obvious that nothing but
their union with th£ Parliament of England could keep
peace between the ttfo countries.
A union had not only frequently been discussed, but
had twice beep deliberately attempted,—in 1667 and in
1703. In both instances, the insuperable impediment was,
the peculiar commercial fanaticism long peculiar to Eng¬
land. The Scots were by the Navigation Act as incapable
of participating in the trading privileges of the English as
any other foreign nation, and Parliament refused to admit
therp tQ advVdAges for which it was alleged that they could
give no equivalent. The necessity, however, of making
both nations one in all respects was now felt, and the
leaders of the English Parliament were prepared, with re¬
luctance, to remove the great impediment to a fusion. The
terms of a treaty were first adjusted by commissioners ap¬
pointed for either country by the Crown. When their
labours were ended, the far more difficult process began of
passing two acts of union which should be identically the
same,—one in the Parliament of each country. A process
so thoroughly constitutional, and so indicative of the flexi¬
bility as well as power of representative government, was
never attempted or conceived in any other country. 1 he
matter was first taken up in the Parliament of Scotland;
and it was some gratification to the national pride to be in
a manner laying down the terms of the joint measure to
England. In Scotland it is well known that the measure
was passed only after a long and stormy contest; in Eng¬
land it was carried more rapidly and easily.
The first Parliament of Great Britain met on October 23,
1707. The members for Scotland, who had been accus¬
tomed to rule in a smaller assembly, suffered from a con¬
sciousness of insignificance, which naturally merged into a
suspicion that they and their nation were subject to the
contempt of their great partner. The government and the
English members were neither skilful nor successful in
removing this impression, and the united Parliament be-
292 PARLIAMENT.
Parliament gan with evil auspices. The Scots, however, soon dis-
covered that they could wield a power readily revealed to
parliamentary groups, however small, when they are compact.
They learned the art of throwing themselves into one of the
scales of nicely-balanced parties; and no ministry could safely
venture to rouse the united enmity of the members from
the north.
Parliament Two events in parliamentary history followed quickly on
of Britain, the Union. The high Tory government of Harley and St
John, being weak in the House of Lords, got a sufficient
number of peers created to afford them a preponderance;
twelve were created at once, and, in the year 1711, nine¬
teen in all. The effect of this operation was little antici¬
pated. It was remembered as a precedent in 1831; and a
threat to repeat, it is believed to have carried the Reform
Act. The other great constitutional measure was the pass¬
ing of the Septennial Act. It immediately followed the re-
.f bellion of 1 715, and its avowed object was, to keep in power
the party and the Parliament, which had steadily supported
the Hanover interest. When the seventh session of that
Parliament was near its end there were serious proposals
still to prolong its existence, but they were fortunately
abandoned.
We now come to a period when the British legislature
stands charged in history with the vveight of heavy accu¬
sations of corruption. But it is, at the same time, the period
when parliamentary government made its greatest and its
steadiest progress. The House of Commons is indebted
for its transcendant power to no one man so much as to
Walpole. He encouraged no attempts to grasp at func¬
tions which were not constitutionally its own. The prero¬
gatives of the Crown were scrupulously respected, and so
were the special functions of the Upper House. But year
by year throughout his long administration the representative
portion of the constitution increased in importance and
power. This increase of influence naturally gave much
temptation to corruption. Both the Crown and the aris¬
tocracy found it of more avail to wield an influence in the
House of Commons than to exercise what remained of
their own legitimate authority. Decaying corporations had
been wont listlessly to drop the privilege of representation
as too heavy for their custody, but now any village or ruined
wall, around which the shadow of old electoral rights con¬
tinued to cling, was sedulously looked after and protected
in its franchise by powerful hands. Soon after the middle
of the century the influences thus created were loudly con¬
demned, and parliamentary reform was demanded by a
large body of statesmen, foremost among whom was Chat¬
ham’s ambitious son. How the French revolution fright¬
ened them from the field, and postponed the question, are
matters well known in history.
Parliament Meanwhile the position of Ireland, as a separate country,
of lieland. a separate legislature, created uneasiness. It is unne¬
cessary to trace the constitutional progress of the Parlia¬
ment of Ireland, as it was shaped on the model of the Par¬
liament of England. Having shown a strong partiality for
the cause of the White Rose, the Irish Parliament was, on
the accession of Henry VII., subjected to a condition of
humiliation and dependence by the act called Payning’s
Law, or the statute of Drogheda. It provides, among many
minor restraints, that no legislative proposals could be
brought before the Irish Parliament unless they had pre¬
viously received the approval of the king and his council
in England. While this restraint on independent legisla¬
tion was in full force, the English Parliament claimed and
carried into effect the right of legislation for Ireland within
the walls of St Stephens. These tests of dependence
lasted until they were swept away by the organized force
of the Irish volunteers. The independent Irish legislature
became then a very formidable body. It was adorned by
the eloquence of several men, whose high genius only served
to raise party ferocity, and the stormy debates of the evening Parliament
were often concluded by bloody duels in the morning. A
spark from continental conflagrations, among such mate¬
rials, might at any moment be fatal; and the Irish leaders,
taking example by the tactics which had been so effective
in Scotland, spoke of regulating the succession to the
crown of Ireland, and about separate alliances with powers
hostile to England. All the energy of the government of
the day, both in England and Ireland, was brought to bear
on the emergency. A union was carried amid a storm
more formidable than that of 1707, and the United Parlia¬
ment of Great Britain and Ireland began with the nine¬
teenth century.
The next great epoch in parliamentary progress is thatThe Re‘
of the Reform Act. The substance of the measure will be form ‘A'ct‘
dealt with in the pages which follow; and the events con¬
nected with its passing enter too largely into the general
history of the period to be recorded here. The principal
portion of the measure—the bill to amend the representa¬
tion of the people in England and Wales—received the
Royal assent on the 7th of June 1832. It is not becom¬
ing to indulge in political discussion in a work of reference,
but the Reform Act is no longer a matter of politics but of
history* It receives the acquiescence and homage of all
parties, and therefore there is nothing invidious in saying
of it, that no one legislative measure ever did so much to
secure good government, official honesty, general freedom,
and national prosperity.
The Parliament of the United Kingdom of Great Britain Parliament
and Ireland consists of the Sovereign,—king or queen,—theS^Vj®^
House of Lords, and the Llouse of Commons. Sometimes KjnCT(jomi
these are called the Three Estates of the Realm; but it is °
more usual, as it used to be in France and in Scotland, to
speak of the Bishops or Ecclesiastical Estate, the Lords,
and the Commons, as the Three Estates. Each of the
three departments of the parliamentary constitution has,
as will be more specially explained, separate rights and
powers. The Sovereign has his prerogative ; the House
of Lords has its judicial power; the House of Commons
—the least endowed with any authority separate from its
legislative combination with the others—has, as the House
of Lords also has, powers for the maintenance of its pri¬
vileges, for compelling the appearance before it of persons
whom it desires to examine, and, generally, for extracting
the information necessary for conducting the national busi¬
ness. In the functions which are purely legislative, however,
all the three powers must act together.
The House of Lords is usually divided into lords spiri-House of
tual and lords temporal, and both again are divided ^l0r s‘
into lords who sit there by absolute right, and lords who
are selected. The English bishops, though called lords
spiritual, are believed to sit in virtue of their temporal
baronies ; and one of them, the Bishop of Sodor and Mann,
whose see was beyond the bounds of the old Norman
baronies, has hence no seat in the House. Four bishops
are selected to represent the Church of Ireland, in terms
of a rotation established at the Union. The temporal
lords who sit by their own right are the peers of England,
the peers of Great Britain, created since the union with
Scotland, and the peers of the United Kingdom, created
since the union with Ireland. There is no limit to the
royal prerogative in the creation of hereditary peers of the
United Kingdom. It has been, however, questioned whether
the Crown can create a peerage merely for life, and the
question created so grave a controversy when that honour
was conferred on Lord Wensleydale, that the patent was
altered to the usual form.
We have seen that the first members of the House of
Lords sat by tenure of their lands. The question of the right
to sit by tenure alone, is still in one sense undecided. It is
true that since the peerage came virtually to consist of titles
P A R L I
Parliament by writ, no claim to membership has been admitted on the
v ground of tenure. But it is equally true, that there is no
House of law 0I” solemn decision declaring that tenure forms no title.
Lords. It is a popular belief that certain great feudal domains—
as Arundel and Berkeley—still possess the virtue ot con¬
ferring peerage on their owners. The question has slept,
owing in many instances to this obvious cause, that the
person who would be baron by tenure, is an earl, or some¬
thing still higher, by writ. Various accidents, not unaided
by design, have prevented the question from demanding a
decision in some special cases.- In the instance of one
family—the Berkeley’s—it appeared to draw to an issue more
than once, but has always been incidentally checked ; and
it has been just again opened by the owner of the ancient
domains of that family, who has presented a petition claim¬
ing his right to sit as a baron by tenure. The elder chil¬
dren of the last lord who held the title were found to be in
law illegitimate, and incapable of succession to the peerage
by writ. He, however, bequeathed to the eldest and the
second of these children successively the castle and do¬
mains. The exclusion of the elder children of course
opened the succession of the peerage to the eldest son born
in wedlock; but, from an hono^hble homage to the me¬
mory of his parents, that son, hlllding, it would seem, that
the decision which illegitimated^liis elder brothers was un¬
just, has refused to assume the titlte.' When the eldest son
succeeded to the domain, the question whether he could
sit as baron by tenure might have arisen, but was obviated
by his being raised by patent to the peerage as Earl Fitz-
hardinge. On his death this title became extinct. The
second son succeeded to the estates, and the family title
by writ still remained unclaimed. In these circumstances,
the owner of the estates demands to be admitted as a baron
by tenure. The claim involves the principle of territorial
nobility in its simplest form; for the conditions which de¬
prive him of succession to the earldom of Berkeley by writ,
would also disqualify him as the representative of the pre¬
vious owners; and the title by which he holds the estate
is not more hereditary in its legal character than that of
any stranger obtaining it by bequest or purchase might be.
In this case the applicant has stated to the Committee of
Privileges of the House of Lords, that the lordships of
Berkeley could be traced as a tenure by barony to the
reign of Henry I.; and that the muniments of the lord-
ships were so well preserved, “ that he should be able to
bring before the House almost every one of the barons of
Berkeley, and make them declare that they held their
titles by tenure ; and it was by tenure they were entitled to
sit as lords of Parliament.” He has offered to prove that, be¬
fore passing into the present family, the estates had been
appropriated by the Crown ; that, consequently, those who
had possessed them then ceased to be lords of Parliament;
and that there were lords of Berkeley in Parliament at all
times when those lands were in the possession of a subject,
and none when the lands were in the hands of the Crown.
He was farther prepared to show that, during the Tudor
dynasty, the estates having been entailed, went to an heir of
entail who was not the lineal descendant of the former
holders ; and that, by reason of the possession of the pro¬
perty, that heir of entail sat in the House of Lords as
owner of the barony. If this case be brought to its legiti¬
mate conclusion, it will settle the question whether lord-
ship by tenure is an existing right under the British con¬
stitution.
1 he old peerage of Scotland is represented by sixteen
of that body, chosen for each Parliament. The peers en¬
titled to elect them are those who, whatever other dignities
they may enjoy, are in the possession of titles acknow¬
ledged in “the Union Roll” made up at the time of the
union with England. The Irish peerage sends to the
House twenty-eight representatives, chosen for life.
A M E N T. 293
77/e House of Commons consists, besides the represen- Parliament
tatives of the universities, of the members for counties and vr—-'
the members for towns. In England and Ireland the House of
former are technically called knights of the shire, and the Commons,
latter burgesses. In Scotland both elfcses were, by old
custom, called “commissioners;” but Ifie peculiarity has
been, in practice, dropped.
The following short statement of the several kinds of fran¬
chise throughout the empire is intended not so much to
furnish a technical legal definition of the different qualifica¬
tions to vote, as to convey a general notion of the classes
who possess the franchise.
In the English counties the forty-shilling freeholders are The fran-
the foundation of the constituency. Freehold estates, as cJlise in
distinct from other kinds of landed property, are those held Kngland*
directly of the Crown. The expansive character of this
qualification was limited by the Reform Act, which re¬
quires occupancy if the freehold interest be only for life,
unless it has come by marriage or settlement, or is attached
to an office. The absolute freeholds which confer the
franchise are called freeholds of inheritance. The virtual
meaning of this is, that they have either descended as pro¬
perty to the holder, or that they are absolutely vested in
himself and his heirs—in short, that he is owner of the
freehold ; for although, technically, that is not a freehold of
inheritance which does not go to the heir, of course the
conveyancer who completes the title for a purchaser will
see that it is so adjusted as to convey to him an available
freehold. Those who were in possession of life freeholds at
the time of the passing of the Reform Act retained the
franchise, but their number must now be much reduced, and
gradually becoming extinct. Of the large class specially en¬
franchised by the Reform Act, the more important are, the
possessors of land worth L.10 a year on any title not free¬
hold, such as copyhold, or on lease for sixty years ; and the
possession of leases for twenty years of lands worth L.50
a year. The franchise derived from the possession of lands
of the annual value of L.10 and L.50 respectively must
be an actual interest to that extent, and therefore must be
clear of all rents and charges; such are the qualifications
by ownership not necessarily inferring occupancy. Another
large class consists of those who are the tenants and occu¬
pants of lands paying a rent of L.50. No one can hold a
county vote on the freehold of a tenement, which would give
him a right to vote in a town whether he exercise that right
or not; and no one can vote for a county on property other
than freehold, if it give the right of voting in a tovvm
In the English towns the right of voting was infinitely
varied—in some instances comprising a closely limited
body, in others indefinitely expansive, and sometimes
comprehending a great part of the least educated and
least orderly classes of the community. The most com¬
prehensive class of these electors has been well known
by the name of freemen. (See Municipal Corporation.)
In those towns which were not disfranchised by the Reform
Act, the freemen on the list immediately before the passing
of the act were, under certain restrictions, allowed to retain
their rhdit to vote. None could afterwards acquire the
right to&vote as freeholders unless through birth or servi¬
tude ; and no one can derive it by birth unless his prede¬
cessor held it before the passing of the Reform Act, or
acquired it by servitude. Another class of voters in the
English towns were the holders of freeholds and burgage
tenements; a class capable, like the freemen and the
county freeholders, of being sometimes fictitiously ex¬
tended. This class of voters was retained under conditions
for preventing the creation of fictitious votes. These re¬
quired that the voter should be in receipt of rents and
profits for a year, unless when the property had come by-
descent or settlement, and likewise that he should reside for
six months in the town or its neighbourhood. To these a
x
r >
294
PARLIAMENT.
The fran¬
chise in
Scotland.
Parliament large distinct class of voters was added by the Reform Act,
who, while they form the majority in many of the old con¬
stituencies, are the entire constituency of the newly en¬
franchised towns. They are the now well-known ten-pound
householders—the occupants, whether as owners or tenants,
of premises worth L.10 a year. There are provisions requir¬
ing that the qualification shall have been enjoyed for a whole
year before it is acted on, and for residence for six months
in the town or its neighbourhood.
The constituency of Scotland is far more a fundamental
creation of the Reform Act than that of England. It is
hence naturally much more simple. Of the old county
constituencies of freeholders, those only who had the quali¬
fication when the act passed are now entitled to vote on
their freeholds; and of course their number must be much
reduced. The fresh constituency consists of—Is/, Owners
of heritable or landed property worth L.10 a-year, clear of
charges. Every kind of title, implying ownership of land,
or its profits, is, by the spirit of the definitions in the act,
capable of conferring a qualification, with the exception of
those rights which, though nominally of a proprietary na¬
ture, are in reality only securities over the property for
debt. 2d, Tenants on leases not shorter than the old cus¬
tomary period of “ three nineteen years,” or fifty-seven years—
who have a proprietary interestin the lease worth L.lOa-year.
Though the law of Scotland strictly separates this class of
holders from feudal proprietors, in relation to whom they
are mere tenants, yet their position has a virtual analogy
with that of some of the English yeomen or peasant-pro¬
prietor class, and, like them, the Scottish tenants on long
leases are qualified without occupancy. 3c?, Tenants in oc¬
cupancy, paying a rent of L.50, or who may have paid the
sum of L.300 in the shape of “ a grassum”—nearly equiva¬
lent to a “ fine” in England—as the consideration apart
from any rent. The town constituencies of Scotland were
entirely framed by the Reform Act, as the old arrangement
was not a system of direct representation—the elections
being made by the corporations, as a sort of electoral col¬
leges, representing the citizens. There is but one source
of qualification—an urban tenement worth L.10 a-year,
whether it be a dwelling-house or place of business. Such
a tenement gives a qualification, either on occupancy as
proprietor or tenant, or on ownership without occupancy.
There are conditions of a year’s possession, and a half year’s
residence in the town or its neighbourhood, similar to those
in England. One peculiarity has been retained from the
old system, which, though it does not affect the qualifica¬
tions of the electors, makes the Scottish burghal represen¬
tation differ materially from the English and the Irish. The
small towns are grouped together in districts ;—for instance,
the St Andrews district embraces seven small towns,—an
arrangement which obviated the two alternatives of giving
an undue preponderance to small burghal constituencies on
the one hand, and on the other absorbing them in the
counties.
In Ireland, the forty-shilling freehold system having been
a means by which a landlord could give a vote to all his
adult male tenants, was restrained as a condition of the
Catholic Emancipation Act; and, saving some existing rights
to the individual holders, the qualification was then raised
to a ten-pound freehold. The Reform Act added to this
constituency a similar amount of property held by copy-
hold, a ten-pound interest in a lease for a term of sixty
years, or a twenty-pound interest in a lease for fourteen
years if terminable on a life, a ten-pound interest in an ab¬
solute lease of twenty years, and the occupancy of such a
tenement by sub-lease. In the Irish towns, a residue of
freemen and voters holding under other consuetudinary
franchises, had to be curtailed by the Reform Act, and the
staple of the qualification for voting became the ten-pound
occupancy.
The fran¬
chise in
Ireland.
There are arrangements in the several divisions of the Parliament
United Kingdom for preserving an authentic register of
those entitled to vote. An explanation of these arrange- Qualifica-
ments would lead to technical details. It need only be tion of
stated that the establishment of certainty in this matter, voters,
with the requisite expedition, has been attended with great
difficulty. If analogy had been taken from the law of pri¬
vate rights, the voter claiming a disputed interest in pro¬
perty, might be dragged through a litigation as long as
any that is necessary for establishing a disputed title. On
the other hand, so long as a patrimonial interest is counted
the proper foundation for a vote, it could never be per¬
mitted to every one to claim the right without becoming
liable to challenge. To accomplish a practical medium suit¬
able to the purpose, the lists are made up on the statements
of each applicant, supported by ordinary documents, such
as leases, receipts, &c., which give a colour to his claim,
and, if it be objected to, there is a summary judicial settle¬
ment or revisal. While professional judges have been
employed in this function, care has been taken to bar all
cases of disputed qualification from entering the courts as
regular litigations. Party zeal is generally sufficient to
make this ordeal pretty stringent, and the purgations of the
roll have in some measure the aspect of a litigation be¬
tween twm sides, to which the rights of individual claim¬
ants of the franchise are in the position of items in ac¬
counting, which are struck off or kept on, on either side
respectively, according to the success of the attack or the
defence.
It need scarcely be said that none are qualified to hold
the franchise but males tw'enty-one years old. Insanity
and idiotcy are good grounds of objection to claims for en¬
rolment, and so are convictions of perjury or bribery. A
large body of persons in the government employment—
chiefly embracing those connected with the revenue—are
disqualified by Act of Parliament, and so are the holders
of government contracts. The official persons connected
with the metropolitan police force are likewise excluded from
voting w ithin the metropolitan districts. In the cases not
thus specially provided for, government employment, is no
disqualification. No alien can vote for a member of Parlia¬
ment, at least in England or Ireland. Practically the
same exclusion extends to Scotland, but it has been ques¬
tioned whether there is anything in the law of Scotland to
support it.
As to the qualifications of candidates: In the first place, Qualifica-
no member of the Plouse of Lords is eligible to the House tion
of Commons. The representative peers of Scotland and memfcers*
Ireland are of course excluded. No peer of Scotland can.
however, be elected ; and it may be said that a Scottish
peer, not one of the representatives in the House of Lords,
belongs to the only class of men in the British empire w ho
are ineligible to the House of Commons. Their heirs were
formerly excluded, but this disqualification was removed by
the Reform Act. The judges of the supreme courts are
ineligible. In England their exclusion is attributed to their
restricted privilege of presence in the House of Lords. The
Scottish judges are excluded by a statute passed by Wal¬
pole to keep out of Parliament a judge of the Court of
Session, the notorious Erskine of Grange, whom he expected
to be troublesome to the government. The holders of all
government offices created since the year 1705, are by
statute ineligible. The great offices of the ministry which
date from before that year are of course not within the ex¬
clusion, but their holders, if in Parliament when they take
office, require to be re-elected. When the war depart¬
ment was lately re-constructed, a special act was necessary
to enable the under-secretary-at-war to sit in the House.
The clergy of the Church of England and Ireland are ex¬
cluded in a body. The absolute character of this exclu¬
sion was tested in a resolute contest by Horne Tooke,
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament whose commentary on the result was, that a man once ad-
mitted to orders could only get admission to the Commons
by leading a life which might procure his degradation
from the priesthood. There prevails a sort of traditional
doctrine that the clergy are excluded from Parliament as
the lay council of the kingdom, because they are repre¬
sented in convocation—the clerical council. The exclu¬
sion does not, of course, apply to the clergy of Protestant
dissenting bodies. Whether there coidd be any ground for
preventing a clergyman of the Established Church of Scot¬
land from sitting in the House of Commons, is a question
which does not appear to have been put to a practical test.
There would perhaps be no opportunity of deciding it in
the case of a minister ordained to a charge, because his re¬
moval to such a foreign field of duty as the legislature
would doubtless be a ground of deposition. But a licen¬
tiate or a retired beneficed clergyman would be excluded
were the strictness of the English rule applicable to the
Presbyterian Establishment. By the Catholic Emancipa¬
tion Act, no Roman Catholic priest is capable of being
elected a member.
The disqualifications which operated formerly against lay
Roman Catholics, and till lately against Jews, were of a
different kind. There was nothing to render them ineli¬
gible, but certain oaths which they required to take before
sitting and acting stood in their way after they were elected.
The Emancipation Act removed this barrier from the Roman
Catholics, by repealing the provisions which required mem¬
bers of Parliament to abjure some of the fundamental prin¬
ciples of that church. The oath of fidelity, which required
to be taken on the faith of a Christian, had still the effect
of restraining honest members of the Jewish persuasion
from sitting. The removal of this impediment has been
the object of a long and arduous contest, in which it was
maintained on the one hand, that if the legislature meant
to exclude Jews from Parliament they should so enact
specifically, instead of leaving them to suffer from the ac¬
cidental effect of a provision not directed against them;
while those who thought that Jews ought to be excluded
from the legislature were not of course inclined to give up
the practical hold which the accidental effect of the clause
gave to them. Repeated measures of relief, in various
shapes, were passed by the Commons and rejected by
the Lords. At length the friends of Jewish emancipation
followed the example which the sagacity of O’Connell had
set in the battle of Catholic emancipation, when he got
himself returned for Parliament for the county of Clare,
and was excluded by the oaths. For several years an emi¬
nent member of the Jewish persuasion has been one of the
members elect for the city of London. A large consti¬
tuency deficient in its full complement of representatives
through the working of a law which can be altered, would
naturally be the most powerful method of bringing home a
great principle to the practical mind of British statesmen.
It prevented the question from ever falling asleep. Various
efforts were made, virtually to effect relief within the House
of Commons itself, as a question between the House at
large and an individual member. These brought out some
curious points in the constitutional practice of the House,
but did not effect their object. The House got so far as to
permit the Jewish member to take the oath on the Old
Testament, as being more binding on his conscience than
the whole Bible; but no means were found for safely dis¬
pensing with the terms of the oath which were laid down
in an act of Parliament. Had the way through other legal
difficulties been quite clear, the sitting and acting without
having taken the oath involved legal penalties which the
courts of law could enforce, and from which the House of
Commons could give no protection. In the summer of
18o8, the House of Lords submitted to a compromise of a
peculiar character on this point. The restraining clause in
295
the oath was not removed, but power was given by statute Parliament
to the House of Commons to dispense with it by resolution ^
in those cases where it thought fit so to do. The same
act gave the House of Lords the same privilege towards
Jews raised to the peerage. This act came into operation
in July 1858.
Under the head of qualification, it may be stated that
there are arrangements for vacating the seats of members
who are convicted of crimes, or become insane, or come
under the bankruptcy acts. The method of procedure in
disqualification by bankruptcy is carefully laid down by
statute. Any power assumed by the House itself to exclude
the member whom a constituency choose to have as their
representative, has always been contemplated outside the
walls of Parliament with a jealousy which has been re¬
sponded to by a corresponding caution within. However
offensive any member may become in the House, to de¬
prive a constituency of their representative, duly elected
and legally qualified, is a far more serious arrogation of
independent power than the refusal to repeal a law which
may prevent him from acting. The last instance in which
a member was expelled, on account of the general disgust
felt towards him by the members, was the notorious case of
Wilkes, and the proceeding was vitiated as a precedent
by its subsequent revocation, and the admission of its object
to the House. Formerly in England and Ireland a candi¬
date required to qualify himself by declaring, if he stood
for a county, that he had an estate of L.600 a year, and
if for a town, that he had an estate of L.300 a year. This
part of the statute was repealed in 1858.
The number of members at present eligible to the House Number of
of Commons is 654. It need scarcely be remarked that, from the C°m-
the pressure to obtain seats, vacancies are seldom allowed to
remain longer than the time necessary for filling them, and p0pUia_
that, whatever the attendance may be, the House is always, tion.
with brief and limited exceptions, complete. The numbers
are thus distributed:—In England, including Wales, there
are 159 members for the counties, 4 for the universities, and
333 for the towns. These last, until lately, amounted to 337,
but the disfranchisement of Sudbury and St Albans by
statute, for corruption, has reduced the number. In Scot¬
land there are 30 members for counties, and 23 for towns.
In Ireland there are 64 members for counties, 2 for the
University of Dublin, and 39 for the towns.
It was one of the objects of the Reform Act to render
the proportion of representatives to population in the dif¬
ferent constituencies of the empire less unequal than it had^
been. Still, it is not professed that either the extent of
population, or the number of electors, has been made an
absolute criterion in the distribution of representation.
That there should be a closer proportion between popula¬
tion and representation ; that the proportion should be len-
dered practically absolute by a flexible plan for adjusting
the representation from time to time to the relative changes^
in the population ; these are among the political questions of
the day. As such it would be inappropriate to deal with
them in a work of reference, farther than by the statement
of any facts which may show the extent of ground covered
by the controversy. The greatest inequalities aie in the
town department. In England, Harwich, Knaresborough,
Marlborough, Ludlow, Thetford, and Totness, with fewer
than 6000 inhabitants, have each two members; while
Glasgow, with a population of 350,000, has also two mem¬
bers. London, though divided into seven electoral districts,
one of them with four representatives, sends only 16 mem¬
bers to Parliament from a population exceeding two mil¬
lions. In fact, nowhere else in the United Kingdom is
there an area containing within it so large a population with
so narrow a representation ; for while Scotland is on the
whole not so fully represented for its numbers as England,
yet for a population not quite three millions there are 53
296
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament representatives. The area making the nearest approach to
London for greatness and density of population is perhaps the
manufacturing district of Lancashire. The population of
that county (including the trifling rural population on its
moorlands) just exceeds two millions, and for these there are,
including the four county members, twenty-six representa¬
tives. In England, indeed, it will be found that where the
proportions of the populations of towns to each other would
be indicated by an enlargement according to geometrical
progression, the increase of representation would have a
nearer ratio to arithmetical progression, and among the small
English boroughs a population of50,000 might be found re¬
turning as many members as the metropolis. The in¬
equality in the English counties is not nearly so great. It
is true that none of the large counties, Yorkshire excepted,
lias more than four members, but the smallest county re¬
turning two members has a population exceeding 20,000.
The relative proportions of electors and of members to
population in the three kingdoms, as compared with each
other, having sometimes been an object of discussion,
the following general results may be stated in round num¬
bers :—In the English counties there is 1 elector for each
20, and 1 member for each 66,012 inhabitants; in the
counties of Scotland there is 1 elector for each 34, and 1
member for each 57,554 ; in Ireland there is 1 elector for
each 40, and 1 member for each 93,127 of the population.
Taking the town constituencies, we find in England 1
elector for each 17, and 1 member for each 22,088; in
Scotland 1 elector to each 23, and 1 member to each
49,397; and in Ireland, 1 elector for each 30, and 1 mem¬
ber for each 21,425. Even when the exclusion of the
fractions is granted, this statement can only be taken as a
general estimate of proportions, since the populations
are taken from the census of 1851, and the numbers of
members and electors are taken from a return ordered
by the House of Commons to be printed in February
1858.
Summon- The summoning and the dissolution of a Parliament, as
ing Parlia- well as tiie calling and adjournment of it from time to time,
General are am0no ^ie undoubted prerogatives of the Crown,
elections. When a new Parliament is to be summoned, the lord chan¬
cellor receives a written command from the sovereign in
council to that effect, and directs the clerk of the Crown
in Chancery to issue writs to the several electoral districts.
The writs, whether for county or town elections, used to
be issued to the sheriff of the county. In England the
return of the person elected in a town is generally made
by some municipal officer, and by a late act the writs
are immediately transmitted to that officer. There is
necessarily some variation in the time within which elec¬
tions must be completed in the different parts of the em¬
pire ; but the general rule of late has been to abbreviate
the time. In England, in counties, the returning officer
must, within two days, fix a day, not less than ten, or more
than sixteen, for the election. In boroughs it must be
within six days, and on three days’ notice. The day being
fixed, the w’rit is read in public by the returning officer,
and candidates are proposed and seconded by qualified
electors. A show of hands is taken, and the returning
officer declares the apparent result, without of course
knowing whether those who have held up their hands
are electors or not. If the parties are satisfied with
this declaration the election is at an end; but if the par¬
tisans of any candidate proposed are determined on a con¬
test, they crave a poll, and the return is not declared
or made until this is over. Formerly the operation of
polling used in England to be spread over a period which
might amount to fifteen days. Opportunities were thus
afforded for deadly contests and very corrupting practices.
I he opinion that has ruled the later legislation on election
practice is, that when the operation is short and simultane¬
ous, the chances of undue influence and violence are re- Parliament
duced, and those of a fair uninfluenced majority in num-
bers increased. The polling period was abbreviated by
the Reform Act, and it is now in the general casejimited to
one day. There are, at the same time, arrangements for
the multiplication of polling booths and stations, to the
effect that all electors may give their votes in a free and
orderly manner, without requiring to press forward in
crowds. The qualifications of voters used in the days of
long elections to be subjected to inquiries and discussions,
which created small law suits at the polling places. The
matters which may be inquired into and discussed, before a
tendered vote can be recorded by the poll-clerk, are now
strictly limited to the identity of the person voting as a
voter on the roll, and his still possessing the qualification
on which he was enrolled. A person who generally be¬
longs to some legal body presides at the polling booth,
where he is assisted by a recording clerk. If overpowered
by a mob, the polling officer adjourns the polling, and re¬
sumes it when it can be carried on without disturbance.
In pursuance of an old constitutional principle, any military
force that may happen to be stationed in a town where
there is an election must be removed till it is concluded.
At the end of the polling the books are brought sealed to
the returning officer, who sums them up. It rarely hap¬
pens, however, that through the vigilant attention of the
supporters of the candidates the result fails to be known to
the public with perfect accuracy; and it is usual to post up
the numbers in conspicuous places from time to time as
the contest draws on. The result is declared at the hust¬
ings by the returning officer; and it is usual for the candi¬
dates, and sometimes their friends, to make speeches on
the occasion. The election is returned to Chancery, but
the candidate is considered to be a member of Parliament
from the moment of the declaration, although he does not
act as a legislator until he has taken the oaths.
The first mportant business of a new Parliament, as dis-The Speak-
tinct from the opening of a new session of an existing Parlia- er-
ment, is the choice of the Speaker of the House of Commons.
A commission, with the lord chancellor at its head, announces
that the sovereign will state the cause of the calling of the
Parliament, when the members are sworn in, and requests
that the gentlemen of the House of Commons will proceed
to the appointment of some proper person to be their
speaker, and present him for the royal approval. The
selection and confirmation of a speaker used to be attended
with many ceremonious professions of urgency on the one
part, and reluctance on the other; and it was even usual
to place him in the chair by gentle compulsion, he all the
while professing his unworthiness of the office conferred on
him. Some faint vestiges of these practices still continue.
The speaker elect goes to the House of Lords, where he
receives the royal approval, making profession of his un¬
worthiness, and stating that the faithful Commons are
ready to make another choice if he be not approved of. It
is still an undecided question whether this is a mere cere¬
monial of courtesy, or implies a real veto in the Crown on
the election of a speaker. It is a question fortunately
never likely to be decided, because like many others be¬
tween the Crown and Parliament it is not likely to be
tried. During the reign of Charles II. a memorable dis¬
pute occurred on this matter. On the opening of Parlia¬
ment in 1679, the Court had one of its own followers to
offer as speaker; but the Commons selected Sir Edward
Seymour, a man of the first rank in their order, who pro¬
fessed to look down upon the Duke of Somerset as a cadet
of his family,—pompous, haughty, and extremely jealous of
the privileges and powers of the untitled aristocracy who
were then, as now, to be found in the House of Commons.
He was rejected by the Crown. There is more than one
version of the shape in which he reported his election.
PARLIAMENT
Parliament The Parliamentary history gives it thus:—“ May it please
^ your Majesty, the knights, citizens, and burgesses, in Par-
The Speak- liament assembled, in obedience to your Majesty’s com¬
er. mand, have made choice of a speaker, and have unanimously
chosen me ; and now I have come hither for your Majesty’s
approbation, which, if your Majesty please to grant, I shall
do them and you the best service I can.” By other ac¬
counts, however, he is said to have anticipated the courteous
declinature of his services by saying,—“ That he was un¬
animously chosen by the suffrages of all the Commons of
England to be their speaker; and that he was resolved to
serve his Majesty in that station to the utmost of his
power.” The chancellor who had prepared a speech for
the occasion was, it is said, somewhat discomfited by this
device, and without the courtesy due to the solemn occa¬
sion, after some hesitation and hints from others to remind
him of his duty, informed Seymour that his Majesty had
other occasions for his service, and the House of Commons
must make another choice, and attend next day to report
it. The House was then entering on the impeachment of
Danby, and this affair added to the prevailing excitement.
There was a hot debate on it for a week, followed by a proro¬
gation; and the House, content probably with having loudly
asserted its rights, having again to make a choice, selected
Mr Serjeant Gregory, who, whether he were really accept¬
able there or not, was not the person who had been pointed
out by the court for their choice.
In the seventeenth century, when the House of Com¬
mons had so many contests with the Crown, it was essen¬
tial that the man who was set by them in front of the battle
should not only be possessed of learning, sagacity, and in¬
tegrity, but of great firmness and courage. Not only as
the representative of the House, but within its walls, he
had many opportunities either of compromising or of pro¬
moting the principles of representative government; for it
is evidentfrom Clarendon’s admissions, and the general tenor
of parliamentary history, that the nature of the House’s pro¬
ceedings could be much influenced by the man who, for
the time, occupied the chair. In the present century the
utmost that could be said about the influence of a speaker
was, that he might occasionally let his eye be caught by a
weak member of the opposite party, when there was a
speech by a strong member of his own party to be answered.
In the peculiar circumstances, however, in which the Whig
party were placed by their abrupt and still not fully ex¬
plained dismissal from office in 1834, they deemed the
crisis so important, that it was essential for them to have a
speaker from among themselves. They therefore fought
the first division of the session on this point, although it
was not their strongest, and they had many difficulties to
contend with in the position of the government candidate,
who had long filled the chair with approval, and had many
warm friends. The result of an extremely exciting con¬
test was, that Mr Abercromby was chosen by a majority of
ten.
The proper position and functions of a speaker of the
House of Commons could not be more emphatically told
than in the words of Lenthal, when Charles I., supported
by some armed followers, entered the House of Commons,
and demanded that “ the five members” should be given
up. Lenthal, to whom he addressed himself, bent on his
knees, and said, “ May it please your Majesty,^—I have
neither eye to see, nor tongue to speak in this place, but
as the House, whose servant I am, is pleased to direct me.”
In adjusting the proceedings and in preserving order, the
speaker issues his own directions and commands, but they
are in reality those of the House. He is the great depo¬
sitory of the precedents which have been established in
former Parliaments; and armed with these, he is prepared
to state what the House, in the natural order of things, will
require to be done. In the enforcement of his authority,
VOL. XVII.
297
he looks to the support of the House ; and if on any point pa,HamPnt
a majority of those present should be against him, his own
personal voice would be ineffective. In practice, however, Th ,
such discussions never arise ; and as no man is ever chosen er 6 hpeak'
speaker who is not endowed with temper, firmness, and a
knowledge of the practice of the House, the speaker’s di¬
rections are taken as law. The speaker naming a member
to the House, is an old established form of censure for
disorderly conduct. The only light which Hatsell, in his
great work on the precedents of Parliament, can throw on
the effect of this mysterious punishment is rather ludicrous.
He says,—“ A story used to be told by Mr Onslow, which
those who ridiculed his strict observance of forms were
fond of repeating; that as he often, upon a member’s not
attending to him, but persisting in any disorder, threatened
to name him (‘ Sir, Sir, I must name you’), on being asked,
what would be the consequence of putting that threat.into
execution, and naming a member, he answered,—‘ The
Lord in Heaven knows,’ from whence they collected that
it was merely a threatening expression of his own, that
would have no consequence at all. He might have referred
them to the journal of the 5th of May 1641, or of the 22d
of January 1693, where they would have found, ‘that if
the speaker is compelled to name a member, such member
will thereby incur the displeasure and censure of the
House.” (P. 237.) The last occasion on which this cere¬
mony was performed, was when Fergus O’Connor, having
become insane, grew disorderly, and struck the member
sitting beside him; but it does not appear to have had
much effect.
The necessity of the speaker’s presence at the opening
and at the conclusion of all pieces of business counted as
proceedings of the House, has been observed with an almost
superstitious pertinacity until a very few years ago. The
immense accumulation of detail business in the House had,
in the meantime, rendered necessary the responsible office
of permanent chairman of committees. In the year 1853
the chairman of committees was made a sort of deputy-
speaker, and it was only then that the country was free
from the risk of the public business being interrupted by
the illness of one man. How seldom this occurred during
the long period when the speaker had no substitute is very
remarkable. We read the histories of political movements
developed in the parliamentary policy of great statesmen,
and in the exciting debates of great orators, without ever
being reminded by a sudden pause in the progress of
events that their continuance depends on one man’s health.
The thoroughly practical character of parliamentary pro¬
ceedings has indeed, from an early time, relieved the
speaker of a considerable portion of his attendance. The
committees have carried off the greater proportion of the
increased business, and even when it is necessary that
matters should be transacted by the whole House and their
speaker, this officer may be relieved from the greater por¬
tion of his attendance, by the House resolving itself into
a committee, which reports its proceedings tor general
adoption.
The House of Lords has no speaker, in the sense in
which the term is used in the Commons, as the representa¬
tive of the corporate existence of the House, whose pre¬
sence is necessary to the validity of the business accom¬
plished. By a standing order of the House, the lord chan¬
cellor, or lord keeper, acts as speaker or chairman when
present. When the great seal is in commission, a speaker
is appointed by the Crown, generally from the heads of the
courts of law; but, in the absence of the regular speaker,
the House may appoint a member to that function. It is a
curious fact that the speaker does not require to be a mem¬
ber of the House, and that he may be, and on occasion has
been, a commoner. He has few duties but those connected
with the putting of questions to the House, and he has no
2 p
298
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament right to enforce order,—such a function not being deemed
necessary in the decorous assembly over which he presides.
A chairman of committees is appointed for each session. He
is a highly responsible and generally laborious officer, having
the superintendence of all the procedure in private bills, and
the function of checking all irregularities and undue practices
by their promoters.
Parliament meets annually, generally in the month of
of February, but sometimes for a short session, if emergen¬
cies render it necessary, before the close of the year.
This annual assemblage of Parliament used to be fre¬
quently demanded without success, but it is now as firmly
established as any human institution can be. The army
exists only from year to year through the annual passing of
the Mutiny Act, without which there would be no power of
military discipline, and soldiers would no more be subject
to command than the rest of the community. The funds
for the army, as well as for the administration of justice,
and the whole civil service of the country, are voted in
Parliament annually. In short, unless the whole complicated
structure of our national institutions and our civilization were
first to disappear, it is impossible to suppose the assembling
of Parliament in any year not absolutely necessary.
Its powers. To the two Houses, and especially to the House of Com¬
mons, there is a general responsibility on the part of every
authority in the country. It would be difficult now to point
out any method of exercising power over the subject, on
which responsibility may not be exacted in Parliament. It
is long since the sovereign has been represented by a
cabinet of ministerial officers, all of them members of one
or other House, and the channels through which their sub¬
ordinate officers are made responsible. The hereditary re¬
venues of the Crown are now accounted for as public pro¬
perty. The “ civil list,” which used to be a large sum placed
in the hands of the Crown for the expenses of the civil insti¬
tutions of the country, is appropriated to its several purposes.
While Parliament has power over the existence of the army,
as supplying the funds by which it is maintained, the Crown
has hitherto kept the command of the forces. This is
exercised through a commander-in-chief, who is not a mem¬
ber of the cabinet, and is not considered to be responsible
to Parliament in the same manner as a cabinet minister.
It has sometimes, indeed, happened that the commander-in-
chief belongs to the party opposed to the existing govern¬
ment. Gradually, however, this authority has lately been
coming more and more within the sanction of ordinary par¬
liamentary responsibility, and this process has been greatly
quickened by the appointment, in 1855, of a principal
secretary of state for war as a member of the cabinet, with
an under-secretary, who finds a seat in Parliament. The
navy is nominally entirely in the hands of the Crown, and its
discipline is conducted, not under a temporary act annually
passed, but under a permanent act of the reign of Charles II.
Its administration, however, has long been under parliamen¬
tary control, by being vested in a commission, the chief, and
generally other members of which, are in Parliament.
On the other hand, the power of the Crown has nomin¬
ally been enlarged in various directions, with the ultimate
effect of increasing the responsibility to Parliament. Al¬
most all the public boards, and other minor adminfstra-
tional departments, are responsible to the Secretary of State
for the Home Department, who may be called upon to make
explanations regarding their conduct in his place in Parlia¬
ment. Where the functions of any public department have
become very important, it has been found expedient to
place at its head a minister of the Crown, who has a seat in
Parliament. This course was adopted, for instance, to¬
wards the English Poor Law Board, and the Board of
Health. The British empire in Hindustan arose under the
auspices of an irresponsible trading company. It was con¬
nected with the general government by the appointment
Annual
meeting
Parlia¬
ment.
of a Board of Control, and recent events have brought it Parliament
still more within the nominal power of the Crown, and the
real influence of Parliament.
The increase of parliamentary power, during the last
half century at least, has almost entirely fallen to the House
of Commons. It is there that administrations are annihi¬
lated or confirmed, and all great measures are tried. The
House of Lords never was the natural birth-place of great
popular questions, but it has of late been gradually assum¬
ing, to an increasing extent, the characteristics of a com¬
mittee of revisal on the measures passed by the Commons.
It has, in this capacity, to perform the unpopular function of
rejection. The long and formidable resistance of the
Lords to the passing of the Reform Bill called forth a deal
of acrimonious criticism, and the various instances in which
it rejected measures passed by the Commons were remem¬
bered against it. Since that event, if the Lords have not in
any way abdicated their function of revisal, they have come
less prominently forward as the rival of the House of Com¬
mons. Great debates have become less frequent; and large
measures, which the House of Commons and the country
eagerly promoted, have not been resisted with the old
party determination. The Lords who transact the business
of that House are generally veteran statesmen, who have
acquired legislative experience by a long career in the
House of Commons, and their procedure has become more
that of a deliberative council of patriarchs or ancients,
than of a legislative body divided into two parties, who
are bound to conduct a perpetual contest against each
other.
The forms of procedure in the British Parliament have not Forms of
received, as a matter of constitutional study, the attention procedure,
due to them. Instead of involving mere matters of tech¬
nical and unimportant detail, they are found, when looked
at in their general bearings, to be a machinery bringing to
wonderful perfection the art of obtaining collective judg¬
ment on any matters, however vague and general on the
one hand, and however complex in their practical details
on the other. It is remarkable that, while the forms of
procedure in the law courts have often been acknowledged
on all hands to be foul with abuses, and have been assailed
as cumbrous and imperfect after the most accomplished
practical jurists have reconstructed them,—the procedure of
Parliament has gone on unassailed, but ever silently tend¬
ing towards perfection, by the application to every diffi¬
culty as it occurs of the best practical means of overcoming it.
One reason for this curious contrast is, that in the courts
of law the opposing and contending parties—the litigants
and their lawyers—who have no concern in the making of the
forms, are yet entitled to take advantage of every flaw and
dubiety in their interpretation, and to plead every avail¬
able quibble ; while Parliament makes its forms solely for
the use of its own members, the minority as well as the
majority; and both are content to fight their battles on
their own numerical strength, without founding on tech¬
nicalities or quibbles. Still, with all this advantage over
the practice of the law courts, the forms of Parliament are
a wonderful triumph of the practical genius of the nation.
In their substantial features they have long remained un¬
altered. They appear, indeed, to have been brought almost
to their present perfection in the great contest of the Long
Parliament, where a larger number of able practical men
were engaged than perhaps in any other arena known to
history. The people of this country are familiar with the
forms of Parliament, because they are adopted or imitated
in every corporation or collective body, among whom they
appear to be the natural way in which collective bodies of
men must necessarily transact their business. Their true
aptitude can only be estimated by a comparison with the
efforts from time to time made by popular assemblages on
the European continent to transact legislative business.
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament The great leading principle in the transaction of busi-
ness in the British Parliament, and the one which most
Forms of other assemblies have flagrantly missed, is, that there shall
procedure, be but one question at a time before the House, and that
that question shall simply be yea or nay. However hot
and confused may be the debate ; however seemingly in¬
extricable the views and the projects of the numerous
speakers; yet all resolves itself, through a skilful arrange¬
ment, into a simple question of affirmative and negative.
Thus, at the conclusion of that memorable debate in which
the Reform Bill was carried in ther House of Commons, on
the 22d of September 1831, the conclusion is recorded in
the following brief but very distinct terms in the journals
of the House :—
“ The question being put ‘ that the bill do pass,’ the
House divided—
“ The yeas went forth—
Tellers for the yeas { ^ John'wood } 345
Tellers for the nays { ^ ^ge1,Clerk } 236
“ So it was resolved in the affirmative. Ordered—That
Lord John Russell do carry the bill to the Lords, and de¬
sire their concurrence.” Although the division-lists of the
members are now published, the taking and recording of
their votes are still in the same simple form. Before
this point was reached, there were of course many pre¬
vious divisions, and a still greater number of debates,
in which resolutions were adopted by concession without
division. But, however complex may be the measure or
the series of motions before the House, every clearing
away of its portions is on a question of affirmative or
negative, and can be accomplished in no other form. Al¬
though it may sometimes appear, from the tenor of a de¬
bate, that one substantive motion is pitted against another,
or that an amendment competes with a motion, yet this
can never be so in reality. If it were so, it might in-
involve the necessity of members voting for a resolution as
at all events preferable to its competitor, when they would
not vote for it if it stood before them on its own naked
merits. As there cannot be two questions voted on, so, of
course, there cannot be three or more, although in the de¬
bate any number of amendments may be brought up
against the original motion. These are disposed of one
by one on the vote, if a vote be come to, whether such
and such words are to stand part of the question. If there
be a majority for any words standing part of a question to
be put to the House, then a vote of yea or nay is taken on
the question with these words in it. If the amendments
are all lost by negatives on their being part of the question,
then the original proposal, whatever it be—motion or bill
—is stripped of all the counter proposals and variations
which the debate has called forth, and a vote of yea or nay
can be taken on it. No member can thus be driven to
vote for what he does not approve of; for down to the last
he may start any other proposition that may please him,
and take a vote on it, and he may in the end vote against
the original proposal.
A memorable incident in a foreign political assembly
may perhaps illustrate the value of this method. In the
French revolutionary Convention, each member, when there
was a question before the House, stood up and stated in his
own words, with or without an oration, what view he
took, and what resolution he would vote for, and the officers
of the House made up the votes and stated the motion
carried, according to the best of their judgment. After the
trial of Louis XVI., the sense of the House was thus taken
on the sentence to be pronounced, and the voting oc¬
cupied forty hours. As all the world knows, the de¬
cision was death, carried by a large majority. It was often
maintained, however, that the votes of many members were
299
recorded for death who did not explicitly pronounce that Parliament
doom, but were prevented by timidity from expressly de- ^ ;
daring against it. In English practice there could have Forms of
been no such dubiety. A proposition would have been laid procedure,
before the House, and a vote taken of simple affirmative or
negative. The timid might have abstained from voting, but
never could have recorded equivocal votes.
The records of Parliament show that this method did not
always prevail, and that it was deliberately adopted to remedy
the evils of a more slovenly practice. It was probably an
improvement on the custom of gathering the resolutions of
Parliament from the tenor of the debates after they were
over. A practice thus arose, as Hatsell tells us, “ for the
speaker to collect the sense of the House from the debate,
and from thence to form a question on which to take the
opinion of the House.” So early as 1571, however, it was
resolved, as an improvement on this plan, “ that from hence¬
forth men making motions shall bring them in writing.”
It is essential to the pure working of such a procedure,
and is at the same time one of the most important distinc¬
tive features of the authority of Parliament, that no piece
of composition adopted by a vote of either House can
afterwards be subjected to even a verbal alteration. To
carry out this rule in the case of bills, the House of Com¬
mons stood a protracted contest. In form, a bill always
was, and still is, a petition by Parliament, and the act
into which it resolves itself is the granting of the peti¬
tion by the sovereign. Nothing was more natural, there¬
fore, than that an official statement should be made by
the sovereign of the nature and tenor of those petitions
which he granted. In the fifteenth century there were
many complaints by the Commons, to the effect that they
had petitioned by bill for such and such enactments,
and had been informed that their petitions were acceded to;
but when they saw the statute for the session as drawn
up and recorded, it contained totally different and some¬
times adverse enactments. Nor are such discrepancies
wonderful when it is known that the method of adjusting
the statutes of a session was for the judges to take the peti¬
tions and the deliverances of the monarch, and make the
acts of Parliament out of both. The remedy devised for
this defect is so old, that Sir Matthew Hale, writing in
the seventeenth century, is not sure of the reign in which
it was adopted, but says “because sometimes difficulties
and troubles arose by this extracting out of the petition
and answer, about the latter end of Henry VI. and be¬
ginning of Edward IV., they took a course to reduce them,
even in the first instance, into the full and complete form.
In pursuance of this policy, at the present day a bill,
which has passed both Houses, contains all the sentences,
and all the words to be found in the act of Parliament into
which the royal assent converts it. Ihe bill may contain
a few words which are not in the act, but the act does not
contain a word which is not in the bill. In its jealousy of
any tampering with the precise tenor of its lesolutions,
Parliament has been indifferent to the illogical character
of the form of an ordinary bill, which begins as a petition,
and converts the substance of it into the shape of peremp-
torv enactments. # ,
There are some peculiarities of parliamentary procedure,
partly embodied in rules, and partly enforced from a sense
of courtesy and propriety, which tend materially to the
fairness, and, at the same time, to the practical conclu¬
siveness of parliamentary procedure. Desultory and in¬
cidental debates are obviated by the necessity, that when
a member speaks, it must be to some question before the
House, or his speech must introduce a question. Motions
upon public questions require to be seconded—a good rule
against interruption and annoyance from eccentric and im¬
practicable members, which is followed in every public as¬
semblage in this country. The mover of a motion is per-
300 PARLIAMENT.
Parliament mitted to reply to those who have supported any amendment
Vs—on it before it is put to the vote, but otherwise no one is
Forms of entitled to more than one opportunity of speaking on a ques-
procedure. tion, except when the House is in committee on a bill.
This is not the place for a discussion on parliamentary ora¬
tors ; but it seems appropriate to remark, that the tendency of
the parliamentary, and perhaps of the public taste, has been
to discountenance rhetorical efforts, and to listen only to
tacts, and close reasoning on them. For speeches, such as
were delivered a century ago, the pressure of real business
leaves no time. On the other hand, it has been said that
the entire publicity now given to debates has had a ten¬
dency to make many members of the Commons address
themselves rather to their constituents than to the House.
There are some little peculiarities of old standing in parlia¬
mentary speaking which are supposed to be favourable to
good order and calm discussion. For instance, no member
is to call another by his name ; if it is desired to call per¬
sonal attention to him, he must be individualized by the
place he represents. Naming the antagonist in the heat of
debate is apt to foster irritation on both sides; and the very
necessity for recollecting the constituency which the adver¬
sary represents, has a momentary tendency to allay excite¬
ment. The views of the proceedings taken by the other
members of the constitution, as by the monarch or the House
of Lords, must not be referred to; nor can a discussion
be opened on a reported debate at a previous sitting.
In the House of Lords there is of course precedence,
but in the Commons all are on an official equality. There
is a purposed jealousy of etiquettes, as if these were likely
to lead to inequalities inconsistent with the character ever
held by the Commons of Britain. For the sake of con¬
venience, certain parties—ministerial, opposition, or any
other—group themselves on benches which they appro¬
priate to themselves ; but this arrangement is carried out
entirely by personal choice. There is no tribune such
as that which used to be occupied by a member address¬
ing the House in the French Chambers. The ministers of
the Crown hold in Parliament a position which foreigners
cannot easily understand. They have no special rights,
but the conducting of the public business requires that, to
a considerable extent, they should dictate the proceedings
of the House. This they do through the influence of that
majority which places and keeps them in power. The
opposition sanction it, for it is not their object to upset the
business of the country, but to get it conducted in their
own way ; and therefore they strive not to interrupt the
operations of the majority, but to become the majority,
and so conduct the business of the country themselves.
But what is still more characteristic of the British Par¬
liament, when compared with popular assemblies in other
countries,—the minority has its privileges as well as the
governing majority, and fortunately they have always been
deemed impregnable. The standing orders which re¬
quire measures to pass through certain stages for the
purpose of securing deliberation, and giving an oppor¬
tunity for opposition, have sometimes, it is true, been
suspended. On some occasions they have been so for
the purpose of strengthening the hands of a government,
and even conferring on it arbitrary powers, when it
has professed to deal wdth dire emergencies, and made
terror the excuse of precipitation. Such events are now
looked back upon as the historical vestiges of evil times.
In late years suspensions have rarely occurred, except with
the view of mitigating or obviating some calamity, and
conferring a boon appreciated by the minority as well as
the majority, or else for the purpose of correcting some
legislative blunder.
It is fortunate for the country that not only the privileges
of weak parties in the House of Commons, but the privi¬
leges of individual members are preserved, not only in the
letter, but in the spirit. Onslow, one of the most sagacious Parliament
of the eminent men who have filled the speaker’s chair, used
to hold that a punctilious observance of the rules of the Forms of
House was the great protection of the weak from the strong, procedure,
and hence one of the safeguards of the constitution. Fol¬
lowing the spirit of this rule, an individual member is
never borne down in the exercise of his acknowledged pri¬
vileges, though all the rest of the House may be against him,
and may feel that he is only using them to their annoyance,
and to the interruption of the public business. When the
privilege of speaking is conceded, the duty of listening does
not always follow. Members who are determined to speak
when they have little to say worth hearing, or who con¬
tinue to promulgate crotchets and hobbies in which their
fellows have no sympathy, will empty the House, or even be
made inaudible by the ebullitions of general impatience;
but this never happens when a member, however little
esteemed, has any important cause in his hands, or repre¬
sents any considerable body of the people. On many oc¬
casions it has happened that the views or interests of a large
portion of the population have had only one or two promul¬
gators in the House of Commons ; but these have hardly
ever failed to command attention.
No bill is converted into a law unless it has received three
readings—that is, has been at three stated intervals brought
under consideration—in each House, has passed each House
after the three readings, and has received the royal assent.
There are some kinds of business peculiar to either House.
The judicial function of Parliament is confined to the House
of Lords, which alone has the inherent right to examine
witnesses on oath. (See Appeal.) The supplies for the
expense of conducting the business of the country are, on
the other hand, exclusively the affair of the Commons.
There are some kinds of legislation which it is the peculiar
function of one of the Houses to originate. Measures affect¬
ing dignity and personal condition must, it is said, always
begin in the Peers. All bills which affect taxes or duties, to
the most trifling amount, can only begin with the Commons;
and no peer’s name must even be mentioned in them as
connected with the raising of the duties.
Acts of Parliament are of two kinds, public and private.
The former are laws which it is the judge’s function to en¬
force, whether they are brought before him or not; the
latter are like private deeds, w’hich must be pleaded by
those benefited by them ere the courtis bound to give them
effect. The bills, before they pass, are also divided into
public and private. But it is important to remember that
the difference between a public and private bill and a public
and private act are not quite parallel. The acts, in fact,
are of three kinds—Istf, The public general statutes, which
apply to the whole kingdom, or one of its departments; 2d,
The public local acts, such as police or railway acts ; and
3c?, Private acts. It has been the practice, however, to speak
of the second class of measures, which, when passed, would
become public local acts, as private bills. There are three
kinds of measures which in the House of Commons can
only be brought in by committees of the whole House,—
those affecting matters of religion, matters of trade, and the
granting of money. The House does not always profess to
know what was intended by these restrictions; but as an
error in their application might vitiate a measure in any
stage, a pretty wide interpretation is given to them. The
Roman Catholic and Jews Relief bills, and a bill for punish¬
ing persons disturbing Roman Catholic congregations, were
brought in by committee. It was decided in 1852 that a
bill for establishing a registration of fees of ballast-heavers,
with regulations as to the mode of hiring and paying them,
is a bill relating to trade. It was found that a bill relating
to dogs employed in drawing vehicles is not a measure of
trade requiring to be brought in by committee.
The functions of Parliament in the passing of what are
PARLIAMENT.
Parliament termed private bills, according to the above definition, are
peculiar and not easily explained. It has been said that
Forms of they bear an analogy to the procedure in a court of justice ;
procedure, but they are in reality as distinct from these as they are
from the proper functions of a legislature. In its purely
public legislative capacity, Parliament enacts such laws as
in its own knowledge it deems fit for the public, without
waiting, so far as the proceedings bear, for any one to plead
that they should be done, or any one to give evidence for
or against them. In private business, Parliament lends its
power for the fulfilment of objects desired by individual
persons or by sections of the community, taking precautions
for the assurance that such measures are just and proper.
The promoters of a private bill appear as suitors for it, and
may bring evidence and plead by council in its favour, as
in a court of justice. Those who are opposed to it have
the same privileges. So personal are the interests in a
measure of this kind deemed, that when it is abandoned by
its promoters it falls, however well it may have recom¬
mended itself as a just and useful measure to the good
opinion of the legislature. “ The solicitation of a bill in
Parliament has been regarded by courts of equity so com¬
pletely in the same light as an ordinary suit, that the pro¬
moters have been restrained by injunction from proceeding
with a bill, the object of which was held to be to set aside
a covenant; and parties have been restrained in the same
manner from appearing against a private bill pending in
the House of Lords. Such injunctions have been justified
on the ground that they act upon the person of the suitor,
and not upon the jurisdiction of Parliament.” (May’s
Pai'l. Proc., pp. 513-14.)
On the other hand, however, there are fundamental dis¬
tinctions entirely separating the proceedings of Parlia¬
ment in passing private bills from those of a court of
justice proper. The litigant who goes to a court points to
some established public law, and demands that it may be
enforced in his favour. The promoter of a private bill goes
to a body which is above the law, and asks a special law
to be made for the accomplishment of his own objects, or
even desires that the fixed course of law shall be suspended,
and that he shall obtain something which the law expressly
denies to him.
It is true, however, that, by applying uniform principles
of action to the several groups of cases which the multi¬
plicity of this kind of business has brought before them,
the legislature has done all that perhaps could be done to
give their procedure the uniform, undeviating tenor of
judicial operations, and to circumscribe the extent of their
own discretionary powers. They have brought into opera¬
tion a large machinery of conditions which are absolutely
necessary to the passing of a private bill, and which, conse¬
quently, in a great measure define the legal conditions
under which a private bill to obtain any object can be car¬
ried through, as the law of the land prescribes the legal
conditions under which the courts of justice will grant what
the litigant asks. The greater part of this machinery is
known as “ the standing orders.” They have of late been
continually varied, through repeated efforts to bring them
to perfection ; and although they are now in a highly im¬
proved condition, it would be to no purpose to offer any
statement of their purport suited for practical guidance, as
they are liable to be altered every session ; and the practi¬
tioner is never safe in taking any guide but the latest
standing orders as issued by authority. The standing
orders of the two Houses were formerly prepared without
any reference to each other. They are now nearly, but
not quite, identical; and the trouble caused by their partial
divergence is greatly modified by a late arrangement,
through which both Houses choose examiners to report on
the compliance with the standing orders; and the same
persons were selected for that duty by each House.
301
There are of course wide differences in the character Parliament
and importance of private bills. One perhaps affects a ' 
population of half a million in matters so important as the Forms of
local administration of justice, the organization of the police, procedure,
and the paving, lighting, and sewering of the streets ; while
another is intended for the reconstruction of a bridge, the
passing of the drainage from one private estate into another,
or the sale of an entailed estate for public purposes. Hence,
for the purpose of preparatory arrangements, the standing
orders divide private bills into classes. The general objects
of the standing orders are, notices to persons specially in¬
terested, advertisements to the public at large, plans, speci¬
fications, estimates, and deposits of money. In general, it
is necessary that these injunctions should be carried out,
and the way cleared for legislative proceedings in the
coming session, before the end of December. About ten
years ago an opinion was entertained that much of the
legislative time devoted to investigations connected with
private bills, and consequently much of the expense at¬
tending on them, might be saved by substituting prelimi¬
nary inquiries under authorized officers for a portion of the
evidence taken in Parliament. Accordingly, a system of
preliminary inquiries was devised as a preparation for
private bills in which public interests were concerned. In
one large class of cases the inquiry was committed to the
Board of Works, whose function it wras to send a commis¬
sioner to the spot to hear evidence. Where the works to
be authorized by the measure were likely to affect any
tidal harbour, a similar function was confided to the Admi¬
ralty. The commissioners were to hear parties, summon
witnesses, and call for plans and documents, like a court of
justice. It must be presumed that this arrangement was
found in some respects to be a failure, since in 1851 it was
abolished in the class of bills for which the Board of Works
acted, but was retained in those affecting the interests of
the Admiralty.
Some general legislative measures, which may be divided
into two different classes, have of late years had a very
material effect in reducing the amount of private bill busi¬
ness which would have been necessary to carry into effect
the arrangements to which they refer. One class of these
acts contains provisions which are to be incorporated in
particular classes of private bills. This device promotes
uniformity, and by absolutely settling beforehand a certain
portion at least of the measure which is to be discussed in
Parliament, obviates a portion of the discussion, with the
accompanying delay and expense. It seems to have sug¬
gested itself in one class of cases so early as the year 1801,
when an act was passed containing clauses to be inserted in
all subsequent inclosure acts. It does not seem, however, to
have occurred to the legislature to extend this expedient
to other classes of cases until a much later period. In
the year 1845 several acts w’ere passed, the object and
function of which are explained by their titles, as, for
instance, “An act for consolidating into one act certain
provisions usually inserted in acts with respect to the con¬
stitution of companies incorporated for carrying on under¬
takings of a public nature;” “An act for consolidating m
one act certain provisions usually inserted in acts authorizing
the making of railways (8 and 9 Vic., caps. 16 and 20). In
this shape the legislature has, as it were, done once for all
a certain proportion of its private bill legislation, affecting
railways, canals, cemeteries, water supply, gas supply, and
public companies generally. In 1847 an addition was made
to this department of legislation by an act for the constitu¬
tion and regulation of all bodies of commissioners appointed
for public undertakings.
The other acts above alluded to as having abbreviated
the amount of private bill legislation are of a different kind,
since within their sphere they supersede legislation altoge¬
ther, and organize another method of securing the objects
302 PAR
Parma, in view. Here, too, the inclosure of land system seems to
have pointed the way. In 1848 the passing of private bills
containing certain assigned clauses, as already referred to,
was superseded in this department, and a tribunal was ap¬
pointed, called the Board of Commissioners of Inclosure,
for definitively carrying out measures of inclosure. This
method was applied, on a larger scale, in the creation of the
Board of Health in 1848. The board, on certain requisi¬
tions, might institute a local inquiry in any town, and bring
it within the provisions of the Public Health Act, which is a
general embodiment of the sanitary department of a system
of town police. The board was not absolute in the matter.
The provisional orders which it issued were brought before
Parliament in the ensuing session, and required to be con¬
firmed by a general public act before they became law.
In the session following that in which the board was estab¬
lished, an act was passed for the confirmation of such pro¬
visional orders applicable to fifteen towns in England.
There is a complex arrangement for the purpose of in-
PARMA, Duchy of, a state of Northern Italy, lying
between N. Lat. 44. 19. and 45. 8., E. Long. 9. 23. and
10. 40. It is bounded on the N. by Austrian Italy, E. by
the duchy of Modena, S. by Tuscany and the kingdom of
Sardinia, and W. by the kingdom of Sardinia. Its length
from E. to W. is about 50 miles; its breadth varies from
40 to 50; and its area is 2392 sq. miles. About a third of
the country is mountainous, being occupied by the slopes
and offsets of the Apennines ; and several of the summits
rise to a great height,—such as the Alpe di Succiso, 6807
feet high; Orsaio, 6180 feet, &c. The mountains are
rugged and bleak, but their sides are covered with forests
of chestnut, oak, ash, and beech. In the glens of the Apen¬
nines several affluents of the Po take their rise, and flow
northwards, watering the lower regions. Most of these are
small: the Tidone, Trebbia, Nura, Taro, and Parma are
of some size, but none of them are navigable. Among the
mountains lie many small lakes. The lowlands consist of
fertile plains and hills. The most of the duchy belongs
to the chalk formation, the loftier regions being entirely of
this structure, while in the more level parts sandstone,
calcareous tufa, and marls are also found. The mineral
riches of the country are not very great: the principal is
salt, of which there are several rich springs; iron is worked
to some extent; copper in one place; and marble, alabaster,
crystals, stones for lithography, &c., are obtained. The
climate is generally temperate, and except near the Po, where
unhealthy vapours prevail, salubrious. The people of the
low country are chiefly employed in farming; and maize,
wheat, pulse, tobacco, hemp, wine, and fruit are raised.
Cattle of a good breed, sheep, poultry, silk, and bees are
also produced. Large herds of hogs live in the forests;
game of various kinds is plentiful; and the rivers abound
in fish. The inhabitants of the mountains are, from the
sterility of the soil, very inadequately supplied with food.
They live chiefly on chestnuts, milk, and cheese. Many
of them leave their homes in summer to seek employment
in Lombardy or Tuscany; and large numbers annually
emigrate to more distant countries. Parma contains few
large manufactories ; those of silk, which are the most im¬
portant, exist in all the chief towns. Linen and cotton
fabrics, paper, gunpowder, earthenware, and other articles,
are likewise manufactured. The trade is not extensive,
the principal articles imported being linen cloth, colonial
produce, and articles of luxury; and the exports consisting
of cattle, hogs, corn, wine, oil, &c. The government is
an unlimited monarchy, hereditary in the male line. There
are five superior courts ; and the laws, established in 1820,
resemble the Code Napoleon, with some modifications.
The established religion is the Roman Catholic, to which
PAR
suring impartiality in the appointment of committees to act Parma,
on private bills. A committee of selection, consisting of
five members, is appointed at the commencement of each
session. It nominates a general committee on railway and
canal bills. When the bill does not belong to either of
these classes, the committee of selection chooses the com¬
mittee who are to try it. The general committee on rail¬
way and canal bills choose the committees for trying these.
The chairman is a member of the general committee ; the
number of members is five, and they must have no local
connection with the measure. The Lords, in a manner
nearly similar, select committees of five for the trial oi
opposed bills. Attendance is enforced, in order that none
may judge without having heard the evidence; and the
duties are often very arduous. It is now no longer prac¬
ticable, as it used to be, for members of committee who had
not heard the testimony or the pleadings, but who had
some point of their own to carry, to rush in suddenly and
swell a division. (j. h. b.)
most of the people belong; but toleration is extended to
other sects. The duchy has primary schools, where the
instruction is gratuitous; secondary schools ; and superior
academies at Parma and Piacenza. The military forces
amounted in 1857 to 4130, which might be raised to 6139
in time of war. The revenue and the expenditure for 1857
were each estimated at L.381,332. The duchy is divided
into five provinces. Pop. (1856) 495,840. In ancient
times what now forms the duchy of Parma was a part of
Gallia Cisalpina. After the fall of the Roman empire it was
included in Lombardy; and Charlemagne, on conquering
that kingdom, transferred Parma to the Papal See. In 1543
Paul III. conferred on his son Luigi Farnese the duchy
of Parma and Piacenza. By the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle
in 1748, it was given to Philip, a son of Philip Y. and
Elizabeth Farnese. In 1801 Parma was conquered by
Napoleon ; but the Congress of Vienna decided that, after
the death of the ex-Empress Maria Louisa, the duchy
should fall to the Duke of Lucca. This took place in
1847, when Lucca was annexed to Tuscany.
Parma, the capital of the above duchy, stands in a beauti¬
ful plain, on the river of the same name, which is crossed by
three bridges, 12 miles S. of the Po, and 72 S.W. of Milan.
It is of an oval form, more than 4 miles in circumference,
and is surrounded with walls and ditches. The streets are
straight and regular, the principal being the old Roman
Via iEmilia, running from E. to W. Many of the buildings
are very handsome. The cathedral, consecrated in 1106,
though in a mixed Lombard and Gothic style, is a noble
edifice; and contains in the interior of its octagonal cupola
a magnificent fresco by Coreggio, representing the As¬
sumption of the Virgin. Parma contains one of the most
splendid baptisteries in Italy, built of marble, and adorned
with numerous paintings and statues. There are many other
churches adorned with works of art, chiefly by Coreggio.
The Farnese or ducal palace is an immense pile of build-
ing, and contains the great Farnese theatre, a library of
100,000 volumes, a picture gallery, and a museum of an¬
tiquities. Several of the other palaces of the nobility
are fine buildings. The town has also an academy attended
by about 400, an episcopal seminary, some inferior schools,
a new theatre, and several charitable institutions. It is the
residence of the duke, the see of a bishop, and the seat of
the government and supreme court of law. There are here
manufactories of silk, leather, carpets, cotton and woollen
goods, paper, glass, earthenware, saltpetre, and other ar¬
ticles ; and a ducal printing-press, which has issued some
of the finest specimens of typography in Europe. Hardly
any remains have been preserved of the ancient Parma,
which occupied the same site. Pop. (1854) 41,091.
PAR
Parmeni- PARMENIDES, an eminent Greek philosopher of the
des Eleatic school, was born at Elea in Magna Graecia in the
il . latter half of the sixth century b.c. The history of his
K ) education is not very well ascertained. Report speaks of
two Pythagoreans, Ameinias and Diochsetes, as his in¬
structors. He is also said, with less verisimilitude, to have
been a disciple of Xenophanes, the founder of the school
of Elea. At all events, it is certain that he studied with
great success, and rose to a high place in the estimation of
his countrymen. He was honoured to be the instructor of
Empedocles and Zeno ; Plato surnamed him “ the Great,”
and likened him to Homer; Aristotle considered him the
chief of the Eleatics ; and his own fellow-citizens were wont
every year to swear obedience to a code of laws which he
had laid down. The main philosophical opinions of Par¬
menides have come down to us in some fragments of a
hexameter poem, entitled On Nature. They may be re¬
presented in the following short outline :—Assuming that
sense and intellect are the only two sources of knowledge,
he holds that these furnish the mind with two kinds of ideas
entirely distinct. Sense is dependent on the variable or¬
ganization of the individual; and therefore its evidence is
changeable, false, and nothing else but a mere appearance.
Intellect is the same in all individuals ; and therefore its
evidence is constant, true, and a complete reality. The
subject is thus divided into two branches—physics and
metaphysics; the former inquiring, What is the character
of appearance ? and the latter, What is the character of
reality or being? Metaphysics, or the science of being, is
discussed in the first of the two books of the poem. Bein^,
it is asserted, is eternal. For if it be non-eternal, it must
either have sprung out of being or non-being. It cannot
have sprung out of being, since it cannot precede itself;
and it cannot have sprung out of non-being, since non-
being is utterly inconceivable. It is therefore eternal.
Being is also identical with thought. For as it is eternal,
it must be unchangeable, identical, unique, unity itself.
Since it is unity, it must embrace all objects, and conse¬
quently all the thoughts that are occasioned by these ob¬
jects. Being is therefore identical with thought. After
the first book of the poem has thus evolved an ideal system
of metaphysics, the second book proceeds to treat of the
science of appearances or physics. A fanciful theory of
the physical world is then laid down in accordance with
the principles of the natural philosophy of that day. The
most complete collection of the fragments of Parmenides
is that of S. Karsten in the Philosophorum Grcecorum
Veterum Operum Reliquice, 8vo, Amsterdam, 1835.
PARMENIO, a distinguished Macedonian general, was
born about 400 b.c. He had attained a mature age when
he began to play a prominent part in the service of Philip
of Macedon. At that time the king received him into his
confidence as his favourite counsellor both in peace and
war. Several important enterprises were also conducted
by him in the course of the reign. In 356 B.C. he routed
the Illyrians in a great battle ; in 342 b.c. he successfully
upheld, at the head of an army, the Macedonian influence
in Euboea; and in 336 b.c. he was appointed one of the
commanders of the force that was sent to secure a footing
in Asia, and to prepare for the future reduction of that
country. Still greater was the importance of Parmenio
after the death of Philip, and the accession of Alexander, in
6 b.c. At the council table the advice of the veteran
general, though sometimes too tame for the wild genius of
the young conqueror, was always heard with deference.
In the field he was virtually second in command. He led
on the left wing of the army at the battles of the Granicus,
Issus, and Arbela ; and he was entrusted with the im-
portant task of completing the subjugation of Media, while
the king himself continued the pursuit of Darius into the
wastes of Parthia and Hyrcania. This was the last ap-
PAR
303
Parmigi-
ano
pointment that Parmenio received. The faithful general
after he had grown gray in the service of Alexander and
his father, and had lost two sons in this same expedition II
was now to be rewarded with the most cruel ino-ratitude’ Parnassua
His only surviving son Philotas, who had gone forward in   
the division of the army under Alexander, was arraigned
for conspiring against the king’s life. For lack of evidence,
torture was applied ; and a confession was wrung from him
which implicated his father. Alexander, on this slight
ground, and in a spirit of selfish policy, resolved to rid him-
SelL0fjParmeni0‘ According1y a message was despatched
t() Media , and the unsuspecting old man, while conversin0*
with his officers, was stabbed by Cleander, in 330 b.c. &
PARMIGIANO, or Parmigianino, the name which
Francesco Mazzuoli, the eminent painter, received from
his native town of Parma. He was born in 1503; and
being early left an orphan, he was brought up by two uncles
who were painters. The boy soon began to show himself
a prodigy of genius. While still a mere child, he astonished
Ins writing-master by the sketches which he drew with his
pen ; in his sixteenth year, he painted the “ Baptism of
our Saviour ” with all the skill and execution of a master ;
and before the age of twenty he had executed several public
works, and risen to .a high place in the profession. The
style of Parmigiano, however, did not begin to be formed
until, in 1523, he removed to Rome, and commenced to
practise his art under the patronage of Pope Clement VII.
I he composition of his pictures then became grand and
simple, the execution decided, the colouring well tempered,
and the general effect full of the most exquisite grace. He
was also characterized by a happy faculty of imitating Ra¬
phael, so that he acquired the surname of II Raffaellino.
Equipped with all these accomplishments, Parmigiano now
executed some of those masterpieces which have immor¬
talized his name. While still at Rome, he painted the
“ Vision of St Jerome,” a picture which is now in the Na¬
tional Gallery. At Bologna, to which he repaired on the
capture of Rome in 1527, he executed the figure of “ St
Rochus,” still seen in the church of St Petronius in that
city, and the Madonna della Rosa, now in the gallery of
Dresden. On his return to Parma, that admired picture
was painted which hangs at the present day in the Bridge-
water Gallery, and represents Cupid fashioning his bow,
while two boys sit at his feet, the one crying and the other
laughing. From such great masterpieces Parmigiano would
probably have proceeded to others still greater, and risen
to rival Raphael and Michael Angelo, had not a fever cut
short his career at Casal Maggiore in 1540. This painter
was also eminent for his skill in etching.
PARNAHIBA, a town of Brazil, province of Piauhi,
stands on the E. bank of the River Parnahiba, about 15
miles above its mouth, and 300 N. of Oeiras. It has broad
unpaved streets. It is the only seaport in the province;
but is not capable of admitting vessels of above 150 tons
burden. Some trade is carried on in hides and cotton.
The court-house and custom-house are the chief public
buildings. Pop. of the district, about 10,000.
Parnahiba, a river of Brazil, rises near the 10th degree
of S. Lat., and flows northward to the Atlantic, separating
the provinces of Piauhi and Maranh3o. Its whole length
is more than 700 miles, for a great part of which it is na¬
vigable. It falls into the sea by several mouths, forming a
delta about 5 miles broad. Its chief affluents are the Gor-
guea from the E., and the Balsas from the W.
PARNASSUS (modern Liakura), a mountain of
Phocis, was celebrated in ancient mythology for its sacred
character. Delphi, the oracle of Apollo, stood at its foot;
the Corycian cave, sacred to Pan and the Nymphs, was
situated on its slope; and Castalia, the stream which fur¬
nished the holy water for the Delphian temple, sprung up
between its two summits. There also was the spot where
304 PAR
Parnell, the Muses held their assemblies, and whence they took
their flight through the midnight air.
PARNELL, Sir Henry, Lord Congleton, second son
of Sir John Parnell, chancellor of the Irish exchequer, was
born June 3, 1776, educated at Eton and at Cambridge,
and afterwards travelled on the Continent. He first ap¬
peared in public life in 1802, when he sat for a few months
as member of Parliament for Portarlington ; but after the
dissolution of Parliament he was not again a member until
1806, when he was returned for Queen’s County, which he
represented until 1832. During this period he was distin¬
guished as a liberal and consistent Whig. His speeches
were among the best of that period. Five of them he cor¬
rected for publication:—ls<, On the “ Irish Currency,” in
1809; 2d, On “Tithes in Ireland,” 1810; 3c?, “The Bul¬
lion Report,” in 1811 ; Ath, On the “ State of Ireland,” in
1824; 5th, On “ Unlawful Societies in Ireland,” in 1825.
He was also the author of several interesting treatises
or pamphlets, among which may be mentioned one on
Financial Reform, in 1830, and a Treatise on Roads, which
appeared in 1833. In 1830 a motion brought forward by
him led to the dissolution of the Wellington cabinet; and
he was chairman of the Finance Committee of the House
of Commons in 1828. On the accession of his party to
power, he was appointed one of the government commission
to inquire into the excise laws, and became secretary at
war, but resigned his appointments in 1832. In 1833 Sir
Henry Parnell was returned to Parliament for Dundee,
and for the same place in 1835, and again in 1837. On
the formation of the Melbourne cabinet in 1835, he was ap¬
pointed to the conjoined offices of paymaster of the forces
and treasurer of the navy and ordnance, which he filled
until the dissolution of that ministry in 1841, when he was
called to the Upper House by the title of Baron Congle¬
ton of Congleton in Cheshire. In 1842 Lord Congleton’s
health became impaired ; and, in a fit of temporary in¬
sanity, he put a period to his existence on 8th June in
that year.
Parnell, Thomas, D.D., an elegant poet, was the son
of an English landed proprietor who had emigrated to
Ireland, and was born at Dublin in 1679. His progress
through the several stages of his education was rapid. At
the age of thirteen he entered the university of his native
town ; in 1700 he took the degree of M.A.; and in the
same year, although under the canonical age, he was or¬
dained a deacon. It was not, however, until after he had been
appointed to the archdeaconry of Clogher, in 1705, that
Parnell became known in the literary world. He then be¬
gan to compose those poems which attracted attention by
their easy versification, refined sentiment, and successful
imitation of the manner of Pope. Escaping also from his
solitary parsonage, he frequently visited London, to culti¬
vate the friendship of the leading wits of both political
parties. His generous heart, cultivated understanding, and
social qualifications, made him a favourite with both Whigs
and Tories. Addison and Steele admitted his papers into
the Spectator and Guardian; and Pope, Gay, and Ar-
buthnot received him into the famous “ Scriblerus Club.”
The closing years of the short career of Parnell were
clouded witli sorrow. The loss of his wife in 1712 inflicted
a severe blow on his sensitive nature. His preferment,
through the interest of Swift, to the vicarage of Finglass,
in the diocese of Dublin, in 1716, did not relieve his me¬
lancholy. He became more and more averse to the soli¬
tude of home and the labours of the study, and more and
more addicted to the excitement of London society and
the oblivious influences of the bottle. These habits, it is
said, undermined his constitution ; and while returning to
Ireland from a visit to the capital, he died at Chester in
July 1718.
Parnell left behind him many compositions both in prose
PAR
and verse. A selection from his poems, which has been Parny
frequently reprinted, was published after his death by Pope. II
Of these, The Rise of Woman, The Fairy Tale, The Night- Parody-
piece on Death, and The Allegory on Man, deserve to be
still remembered. But his most popular poem is The Her¬
mit, a tale not more pleasing for its easy rhythm than for
its novel plan and its picturesque incidents. A Life of
Parnell, by Goldsmith, is published in Goldsmith’s Works,
in Murray’s “ British Classics.”
PARNY, Evariste-Desire Desforges, Vicomte de,
the French Tibullus, was born in the island of Bourbon
in 1753, and was sent to France to be educated at the
age of nine. His devotion to literature did not appear
in the early part of his life. At the college of Rennes
he showed a listless dislike for the subjects of scholastic
study. A spirit of religious fanaticism next possessed him,
and led him to the very eve of entering upon a monastic
life. Then rushing into the very opposite extreme of sen¬
timent, he plunged into the midst of the pleasures of the
world, enlisted in the army, and drank in with avidity the
Epicurean maxims of the barracks. It was not until, at the
age of twenty, he paid a visit to his native island, that an
event occurred which awakened his poetical genius. He
was there smitten with a passion for a young Creole maiden
called Eleanor: she was soon after wedded to another;
and the jilted lover returned disconsolate to France. His
mind then resolved to vent its burden through the channel
of verse. Accordingly, in a collection of elegies published
in 1775 he described, with a fresh simplicity, easy grace,
and deep pathos, the delights of a requited attachment, and
the regrets, jealousies, and alternations between hope and
fear, of a disprized love. The fair reputation which Parny
gained by these poems was soon tarnished by a flagrant
indiscretion. Losing all his fortune during the troublous
days of the Revolution, and being driven to earn a liveli¬
hood by his own exertions, he was tempted to pander to the
immoral tastes of the times. He commenced an attack
upon decency and religion in his Guerre des Dieux ; and
he persisted in following up his odious attempt in his Pa¬
radis Perdu and Galanteries de la Bible. A piece on the
culture of flowers, and another entitled Journee Champetre,
were almost the only productions of his latter years which
were at the same time imbued with the genius of poetry and
untainted by profaneness and obscenity. The consequence
was, that the more respectable part of the community che¬
rished towards him an aversion which had not passed away
at the time of his death, in 1814. The select works of
Parny were published by Didot, in 5 vols. 18mo, Paris,
1808, and reprinted in the Collection de Classiques Fran¬
cois of Lefevre, Paris, 1827. His Poesies Inedites, pre¬
ceded by a notice on his life and works, were published by
Tissot, 18mo, Paris, 1827.
PARODY (jrapufia, literally a song sung beside,—i.e.,
sung with certain changes, especially with the design of
burlesquing the original) is a species of poetical pleasantry,
produced by turning into ridicule what was intended for a
serious composition. This humorous design is accomplished
by preserving the form but changing the matter of the
piece. This change of matter may be effected either di¬
rectly or indirectly : directly, by the alteration of a letter,
a word, or words, of the original, or by re-casting the whole
piece, and at the same time preserving the peculiar style
and form of the original; indirectly, by applying the ori¬
ginal in its entirety, and without modification, to some subject
quite foreign to the intention of the author. Parody is
generally used in the same sense as travestie. The Greeks,
from whom the word is borrowed, have the credit of ori¬
ginating this species of composition. Scholars assign the
merit of the invention to Archilochus, but wrongly, if we
are to regard the Batrachomyomachia, ascribed to Homer,
as a species of parody. Perhaps the most successful Eng-
PAR
Parol lish parodies of modern times are to be found in the well-
!l known Rejected Addresses of the brothers Smith. Punch
^arr' j also occasionally furnishes a good parody.
PAROL is the Norman-French “ word,” and is em¬
ployed in English law to denote oral as distinguished from
written proceedings. Thus a parol contract is an agree¬
ment by word of mouth ; parol evidence is the oral testi¬
mony of witnesses. In the strict acceptation of the term,
however, everything is parol, even in writing, which is not
under seal.
PAROLE, in a military sense, the promise {parole
d’honneur) made by a prisoner of war, when he has leave
of absence, to return at an appointed time, if not previously
discharged.
PAROS, one of the largest of the islands of the Cy¬
clades, is situated in the ACgean Sea, about 6 miles W.
from Naxos, and consists of a circular mountain sloping
down on all sides to a maritime plain. It was colonized
at an early period by the lonians. The island in course
of time attained a high degree of prosperity. It planted
colonies in Thasus (Thaso), at Parium on the Propontis,
and at Pharos on the Illyrian coast. Its two harbours be¬
came the seats of an extensive maritime trade, and its
chief town, Paros (Parichia), became a well-fortified city.
It was strong enough to repel the attack of Miltiades by
force, and wealthy enough to avert the attack of Themis-
tocles by bribes. Shortly afterwards, however, Paros be¬
came tributary to Athens, and from that period it con¬
tinued to be subject to those nations who held in succession
the dominion of the Cyclades. It consequently lost all
historical importance, and was chiefly famous for that beau¬
tiful Parian marble which was so extensively employed in
the architecture and sculpture of the ancients. At the
present time Paros belongs to the kingdom of Greece, and
contains about 6000 inhabitants.
PARR, Catharine, Queen of England, was the eldest
daughter of Sir Thomas Parr of Kendal Castle in West¬
moreland, and was born at some date shortly before 1513.
Her experience of the trials and vicissitudes of life began
early. She was scarcely out of her childhood when her
hand was given to Edward, Lord Borough of Gainsborough.
Before a few years had passed, her husband died ; and she
became a widow in her fifteenth year. In a short time
afterwards she was again married to John Neville, Lord
Latimer; and at the age of twenty she was again left in
solitary widowhood. It was this experience which assisted
Catharine Parr in playing the difficult part which fell to
her lot, when on the 12th July 1543 she was wedded to
the royal wife-slayer Henry VIII. How prudently and
successfully she played that part is described under Eng¬
land. In 1547, the same year in which her husband the
king died, Queen Catharine gave her hand to her former
lover, Sir 1 homas Seymour, lord-admiral of England.
She died in child-bed in 1548, at the age of thirty-five.
Parr, Samuel, a very distinguished scholar and an acute
thinker, was born at Harrow-on-the-Hill on the 15th of
January 1747. At Easter 1752 he was admitted on the
foundation of Harrow School, at that time conducted by
the Rev. Dr Thackeray, and by the time he had attained
the age of fourteen, he had, by his diligence and talents,
gained the approbation of his successive teachers, and be¬
come the head boy of the school. In 1761 Parr, having
completed the course of study pursued at Harrow, left
school, and was for two or three subsequent years employed
by his father in his own profession of apothecary and sur¬
geon. He continued, however, to occupy all his leisure in
the study of Greek and Roman literature; and his father,
after considerable hesitation, entered him in 1765 at Ema¬
nuel College, Cambridge. Here his application to study
was enthusiastic, incessant, and severe. His father’s death,
however, gave a temporary check to his hopes; and he was
YOL. XVII.
PAR
Harrow sdi^l SUmner t0 °f & ^ assistantshiP in
17(?9 Parr was ordained to the curacies of
W illsden and Kingsbury in Middlesex, the duties of which
in conjunction with those proper to the situation which he
held in the school, he continued to discharge till the death
of Dr Sumner in 1771, when he opened a school on his
own account at Stanmore. Not succeeding to his mind in
tll1* und®rtakin^ he became master of Colchester school in
1777. During his residence there he took priest’s orders
and his curacies were Hythe and Trinity Church. In
1778 he obtained the appointment of head-master of Nor¬
wich school, and early in 1779 entered upon the duties of
his office. In the following year he published his two ser¬
mons On the Truth and Usefulness of Christianity, and
On the Education of the Poor. He afterwards, in 1785
resumed the subject of the latter at great length in his
Discourse on Education, and on the Plans pursued in
Charity Schools. This was the most popular of all his
writings, and is a fine monument of its gifted author’s en¬
larged views, pure benevolence, and deep insight into
human character.
In 1781 Parr took his degree of Doctor of Laws in the
university of Cambridge, after supporting two theses,
which were regarded as compositions of superior excellence
and merit. In 1783 Bishop Lowth appointed him one of
the prebends of St Paul’s Cathedral; and during the same
year he was presented to the perpetual curacy of Hatton,
Warwickshire, to which, after resigning the school at Nor¬
wich, he went to reside in 1786. In 1787 appeared the
justly-celebrated preface to Bellendenus, which, despite its
fulsome flattery of Burke, North, and Fox, to whom it
was dedicated, and its virulent political rancour, is unde¬
niably one of the most successful modern imitations of
Ciceronian Latin. But while this performance raised his
fame, it did not add to his happiness, for it alienated friends,
and made foes of those formerly indifferent. In 1790 Dr
Parr got involved in an obscure and intricate controversy
respecting the authorship of the Bampton Lectures pub¬
lished by Dr White, who seems, together with his coad¬
jutors, to have been guilty of plagiarism.
The Tracts by Warburton and a Warburtonian, not ad¬
mitted into the collection of their respective ivorks, appeared
in 1789, with a dedication addressed by the editor to a
learned critic, containing some excellent critical remarks,
and abounding at the same time in forcible expression and
happy illustration. Of this composition, which it is to be
feared was written more with the design of annoying
Bishop Hurd, the editor of Warburton, than with any
higher motive, Warton is reported to have said, that if he
were called upon to point out some of the finest sentences
in English prose, he would quote Parr’s preface and de¬
dication of the Warburtonian Tracts.
The Birmingham riots of 1791 called forth the Sequel
to the printed Paper lately circulated in Warwickshire by
the Rev. Charles Curtis, brother of Alderman Curtis, a
Birmingham Rector, London, 1792; and A Letter from
Irenopolis to the Inhabitants of Eleutheropolis, or a Serious
Address to the Dissenters of Birmingham ; both admirable
specimens of the author’s spirited and elegant style. In
1793 a violent pamphlet by Dr Combe occasioned Re¬
marks on the Statement of Dr Charles Combe, by an occa¬
sional writer in the British Critic, 1795, written in a
temperate, calm, and guarded tone. Parr’s famous Spital
Sermon of 1800 brought him into collision with Godwin
and others of the opposite school of morals.
In 1802 Sir Francis Burdett presented him to the rec¬
tory of Graffham in Huntingdonshire. His last publica¬
tion that is entitled to particular notice is, Characters of
the late Charles James Fox, selected, and in part written,
by Philopatris Varvicensis, which appeared in 1809. It con-
2 Q
305
Parr.
306 PAR
Parrhasius sists partly of extracts from the various public journals,
II and is partly of an original character, addressed in the
v , arr^‘ / form of an epistle to Mr Coke, with an additional volume
of notes.
In 1823 Parr’s strength began visibly to decline; and
on the 6th of March 1825 he died, having completed
the seventy-eighth year of his age. Notwithstanding his
pre-eminent talents and great learning, Dr Parr left no
work behind him destined to live. His natural benevo¬
lence and kindliness of feeling seems to have been too
much cast into the shade by a vain, arrogant, and over¬
bearing temper. When engaged in a polemic, as he too
often was, he seemed actuated too much by a fierce party
spirit, which led him not unfrequently to forget alike the
claims of truth and the courtesies of controversy. He
seems to have surpassed all men of his time in his uncom¬
mon powers of conversation. In addition to his published
writings, Dr Parr left behind him a vast mass of papers,
epistolary, historical, critical, and metaphysical. (See his
Works, with Memoirs of his Life and Writings, and a Selec¬
tion from his Correspondence, by John Johnstone, M.D.,
8 vols. 8vo, London, 1828.)
PARRHASIUS, one of the most celebrated of Greek
painters, was a native of Ephesus, and flourished towards
the close of the fifth century b.c. Coming to Athens after
he had studied under his father Evenor,he soon achieved the
highest renown. The Athenians held him in great honour,
and conferred upon him the privileges of a citizen. He
painted many admirable pictures, which elicited from suc¬
ceeding authors the most enthusiastic encomiums; and he
established a canon of proportion which procured for him
from Quintilian the title of “ Legislator” of his art. How
valuable his productions were, both in a practical and theo¬
retical point of view, is described under the article Paint¬
ing. There is even a story, that he foiled the great master
Zeuxis in a contest of skill, in which he painted a curtain,
and his rival painted a cluster of grapes. But while Parr¬
hasius was thus proving himself to be one of the greatest
of painters, he was also showing himself to be one of the
weakest of men. He assumed the title of “ Prince of
Painters,” and, in accordance with this character, exhibited
himself to the citizens arrayed in purple and crowned with
a golden garland. He dubbed himself'A/SpoSiWos (“ The
Elegant”) ; and he addressed to himself an epigram, dwell¬
ing with complacency upon his personal history, and con¬
gratulating himself for having brought painting to the very
pitch of perfection. He had even higher moods of vanity,
in which nothing less than a relationship with the immor¬
tals would satisfy him. Apollo was declared to be his an¬
cestor, Hercules was said to visit him frequently in a
vision of the night, and his own portrait was hung up in a
temple to call forth adoration from the multitude. Two of
the most celebrated works of Parrhasius were,—an allegorical
representation of the Athenian people, which is said by
Pliny to have indicated all the qualities, both good and
bad, of the mob; and a picture of Theseus, which was
afterwards removed to the Capitol at Rome.
PARRY, Sir William Edward, Knight, the. arctic
navigator, was born at Bath, December 19, 1790. His
father, Dr Caleb Hillier Parry, was a physician of consi¬
derable celebrity ; his mother, the daughter of John Rigby,
Esq., of Lancaster. The subject of this notice, their fourth
son, had been originally intended for the medical profes¬
sion, but circumstances occurred to alter this view; and in
June 1803 he was appointed to the Ville de Paris, Ad¬
miral Cornwallis’ flag-ship, of the Channel fleet, as a volun¬
teer of the first class. He remained on board this ship for
nearly three years, and was once engaged in action during
this time off Brest harbour. Admiral Cornwallis thus re¬
corded his opinion of the young sailor when he left his ship :
“Parry is a fine steady lad; I never knew' any one so gene-
P A R
rally approved of. He will receive civility and kindness Parry,
from all while he continues to conduct himself as he has v>'—v—
done, which, I dare believe, will be as long as he lives.”
His next appointments were, successively, to the Tribune
frigate, and Vanguard, 74. The latter was frequently en¬
gaged with Danish gunboats in the Baltic, on which occa¬
sions Parry commanded one of the Vanguard’s boats.
Obtaining his lieutenant’s commission in 1810, he joined
the Alexandria frigate, in which vessel Parry made his first
acquaintance with Polar ice between North Cape and Bear
Island, after which he joined the La Hogue at Halifax.
In 1814 he took part in a successful boat expedition up the
River Connecticut, and was himself in command of one of
the boats. For this service a medal was afterwards awarded.
In 1817 he was recalled to England by his father’s illness.
He had for some time past almost despaired of promotion,
when an opening unexpectedly occurred which threw a
gleam of encouragentent over his professional prospects,
and finally proved the forerunner of success and renown.
Towards the close of this same year he wrote to a friend
on the subject of an expedition in contemplation for explor¬
ing the River Congo. The letter was written, but not
posted, when his eye fell on a paragraph in the newspapers
relative to an expedition about to be fitted out to the
northern regions. He seized his pen, and added to his
letter, by way of postscript, that, as far as he was con¬
cerned, “ hot or cold was all one to him, Africa or the
Pole.” The friend to whom the letter was addressed
showed it to Mr Barrow, secretary of the Admiralty, and
the well-known patron of arctic discovery. In a few days,
Parry, still a lieutenant, was appointed to the command of
the Alexander discovery ship, under the orders of Com¬
mander John Ross in the Isabella, “ for the purpose of ex¬
ploring Baffin’s Bay, and ascertaining the probabilities of a
N.W. passage to the Pacific.” This expedition, as is well
known, ended in nothing. The ships entered Lancaster
Sound, on the western side of Baffin’s Bay; but the lively
imagination of Ross conjured up a range of mountains
barring all advance, and the ships returned home. The
next year (1819), Lieutenant Parry, whose opinion as to the
practicability of a N.W. passage had become known, was
appointed to the command of the Hecla,—the Griper, Lieu¬
tenant Liddon, being also placed under his orders. Enter¬
ing Lancaster Sound in the summer of 1819, Parry sailed
over the supposed Croker Mountains of Ross, and naming,
as he advanced, Barrow’s Straits, Wellington Channel, and
Melville Island, was compelled to winter at the latter place.
The most difficult part of Parry’s task now began. Hitherto,
while the necessity of active exertion remained, and con¬
stant watchfulness of eye and hand were requisite in the
prosecution of the dangerous voyage, it was comparatively
easy for the commander of the expedition to preserve the
health and cheerfulness of the crews. Now, however, it
needed all the resources of a fertile mind and an active
example to prevent the evil consequences likely to arise
from want of regular employment during the dreary hours
of a northern winter. But Parry was fully equal to the
emergency. Theatrical entertainments were set on foot,
Parry himself turning author for the time being ; a weekly
newspaper, the North Georgian Gazette, was started in the
officers’ mess-room; and every precaution taken to promote
amusement and exercise among all. After ten months of
confinement in Winter Harbour, the ships were set free;
but the state of the ice rendering further progress to the
westward hopeless, Parry was compelled to retrace his course
to England. On his return, he was promoted to the rank
of commander, was presented with the freedom of Bath and
Norwich, and elected a member of the Royal Society. The
narrative of this voyage to Melville Island was published by
order of the Admiralty. “No one,” it was said of this work
at the time, “ could rise from its perusal without being im-
PARRY.
Parry, pressed with the fullest conviction that Commander Parry’s
merits as an officer and scientific navigator are of the
highest order; that his talents are not confined to his pro¬
fessional duties ; but that the resources of his mind are
equal to the most arduous situations, and fertile in expe¬
dients under every circumstance, however difficult, danger¬
ous, or unexpected.” {Quarterly Review, vol. xxv.)
In a scientific point of view, the results of this voyage
are most important. On the subject of magnetism, espe¬
cially, the observations, constantly and carefully registered,
were the first which had ever been made so near the mag¬
netic pole of the earth. No opportunity was ever omitted
of gathering information which the means at hand could
supply, and the exertions of the commander were ably
seconded by those under him. The labours of Captain
Sabine, R.A., who accompanied the expedition as astro¬
nomer, speak for themselves, being arranged in a valuable
appendix to the narrative.
His second and third voyages, from 1821 to 1824, and
from May 1824 to October 1825, respectively, were also
undertaken with a view to the discovery of the long-sought
N.W. passage. The former, on his return from which he
was promoted to the rank of post-captain, and appointed
hydrographer to the Admiralty, resulted in the discovery of
the Straits of the Hecla and Griper. The voyage of 1824,
resulting in the loss of the Fury, was the last expedition in
which Parry was engaged for the discovery of a N.W.
passage, his next public service having a different end in
view, though it led him once more into similar scenes.
Still, while the great problem remained unsolved, his own
exertions had not been without brilliant results. To him
we owe the passage of Lancaster Sound and Barrow’s Strait;
on the south and north, Prince Regent’s Inlet and Welling¬
ton Channel; Melville Island and Banks’ Land, to the far
westward. Even his failures served as landmarks to guide
the steps of those who followed in his track ; and the extent
of his success, on ground hitherto unexplored, had in a
great measure exhausted the more difficult part of the un¬
dertaking, leaving to his successors only the glory of com¬
pleting the last link in the chain of discovery. He lived
just long enough to see this link added, as he felt sure
would eventually be the case.
After the unsuccessful termination of the recent efforts
to discover the N.W. passage, it seemed useless for the
present to pursue the attempt further; but this did not
hinder Parry from turning his attention to another quarter,
where success seemed more hopeful. The interesting ex¬
periments which had been made during the late expedi¬
tions in the neighbourhood of the magnetic pole had in¬
duced many scientific men to speculate on the possibility
of carrying out similar observations at the very pole of the
earth itself. Parry employed the few leisure moments he
could snatch from the duties of his office in drawing up a
statement respecting the practicability of effecting this ob¬
ject by means of sledge-boats, as had been before proposed
by his friend and brother officer Captain Franklin. Of the
difficulties involved in the scheme he was fully aware ; but,
as he remarked in a letter to Franklin, then himself absent
from England on arctic discovery, “ The true reply to all
doubts is, go and see! ” The memorial, when completed,
was laid before Lord Melville and the lords of the Ad¬
miralty, supported by a recommendation from Sir Humphry
Davy, the president of the Royal Society, to whom Parry,
as a member of the society, had communicated his views.
As might be anticipated, some opposition was at first made
to the scheme ; but after further discussions, the objections
were overruled, and Parry was appointed to the command
of an expedition “ for the purpose of attempting to reach
the North Pole.”
In March 1827 the Hecla left England. Treurenberg
Bay, in the Isle of Spitzbergen, was the spot selected for
her to remain in during the absence of the exploring party •
and at 5 p.m. on the 21st of June, the two boats Enter¬
prise and Endeavour, respectively commanded by Parry and
his lieutenant, James C. Ross, bade farewell to their com¬
rades on board the ship, and, with the usual salute of three
hearty cheers, set out for the northward. The boats em¬
ployed on this novel service were fitted with strong runners
shod with smooth steel, in the manner of a sledge, to the
forepart of which the ropes for dragging the boat were at¬
tached. The crew of each consisted of two officers and
twelve men, of whom two were marines. The rough na¬
ture of the ice, combined with the softness of its upper
surface, rendered each day’s work very tedious and laborious.
Urged on, however, by the example of their commander,
the men, in spite of all these discouragements, laboured with
the greatest cheerfulness and good-will. All hoped, and
none more confidently than Parry himself, that the rugged
ice over which they were now toiling would prove but the
introduction to the smooth continuous plain of the main
ice which the accounts of former navigators had led them
to expect to the north of Spitzbergen. Day after day,
however, went on, and no signs of improvement were visi¬
ble for some distance to the northward, when it became by
degrees painfully evident to both the commander and his
officers that another obstacle to the completion of their
purpose had unexpectedly arisen. This consisted in the
southerly drift of the whole body of ice over which they
were laboriously tracking their way, owing to the wind,
which blew steadily from the N. or N.W. The observa¬
tions carefully made at the close of each day’s hard work
showed too clearly that often less than half the distance
travelled could be regarded as progress in a northerly di¬
rection. This mortifying truth was for some time kept from
the knowledge of the men, who used, however, good hu-
mouredly to remark that they were “ a long time getting
to this 83° !” For a few days more they persevered in the
face of heavy snow-storms and torrents of rain, which Parry
had never seen equalled, but the drift of the ice continuing
as great as ever, he was at length compelled to confess that
further labour was useless. It was now the 27th of July;
the day was warm and pleasant, forming a cheerful con¬
trast to the weather they had lately experienced. “ Our en¬
signs and pendants,” Parry writes, “ were displayed during
the day, and sincerely as we regretted not having been able
to hoist the British flag in the highest latitude to which we
had aspired, we shall perhaps be excused having felt some
little pride in being the bearers of it to a parallel consider¬
ably beyond that mentioned in any well-authenticated re¬
cord.” The southward journey over the ice occupied a
fortnight; and on the 28th August the Hecla weighed an¬
chor for England. On the 1st November she was paid
off, when, for the last time, Parry hauled down his pendant.
“No successor on the path of arctic adventure has yet
snatched the chaplet from the brow of this great navigator.
Parry is still the champion of the North, {Times, Jan¬
uary 20, 1856.) At this day, through the graceful compli¬
ment of recent navigators, the land nearest either pole on
w’hich the eve of civilized man has evei lested, beais the
name of him who unfurled his country’s flag at a higher
latitude than any before or since have been able to reach :
82° 45' was the latitude attained on this occasion. The
Parry Mountains were discovered by Sir J. C. Ross in the
antarctic regions in 1841 ; and the same name was given
by Dr Kane in 1853 to a mountain visible to the N. of
Smith Sound.
His next appointment led him into far different scenes.
In consequence of the mismanagement and neglect of the
agents resident on the property of the Australian Agricul¬
tural Company, the directors had for some time been an¬
xious to secure the services of some one of sufficient ability
to restore matters to a proper footing, and whose known
PARRY.
308
Parry, character and name would at the same time be a guaran-
tee against the evils from which they had before suffered.
With these views, they offered the post to Captain (now Sir
Edward) Parry, for he and Franklin had, on the 29th of
April 1829, received the honour of knighthood at the
hands of his Majesty George IV. All professional difficulties
were over-ruled by the kind assurance of Lord Melville,
that his acceptance of the company’s offer should in no way
interfere with his future prospects. Accordingly, in the
spring of 1829, he received his appointment as commis¬
sioner of the Australian Agricultural Company in New
South Wales. Residing at Port Stephens, the neglected
state of the settlement called for the exercise of all his
energies. It was, in truth, to use his own words, “ a moral
wilderness and to the cultivation of this unpromising soil
he and his wife resolved to apply all their energies. The
people around them consisted of three distinct classes,—
First, The officers and servants of the company; secondly,
The convicts, working also in the employ of the company,
or acting as domestic servants in the officers’ families, that
of the commissioner himself included ; and lastly, The na¬
tives, whose home was in the “ bush,” and whose encamp¬
ments were often found within a few yards of the settle¬
ment. He fitted up a carpenter’s shop as a place of wor¬
ship, conducting the service himself, and regarding nothing
as too trivial, whether a cricket-match or a fete, which could
tend to promote innocent enjoyment, and draw close the
bond which united him to those under his charge. The
task of reformation proved, indeed, no easy one. The
almost total want of proper discipline which had previously
existed in the settlement rendered it a matter of no small
difficulty to introduce a new system of order and regularity.
This, however, Parry was determined to effect; and though
there was at the outset much to dishearten, his judgment
and firmness by degrees triumphed over all obstacles, while
the genial kindness of his disposition, and his evident de¬
sire for the general welfare, gained the respect and affec¬
tion of all. The want of a regular church and minister
becoming more and more felt each day, he felt, as the
time for his departure approached, that he could not leave
a better legacy to those over whose interests he had watched
for four years than a building consecrated to the service of
Him whose glory had been his constant aim. A site was
accordingly determined upon at Stroud. Monday, April
29, 1833, was a day long remembered in the colony, when
the first stone of the new church was laid by Sir Edward.
“ At Port Stephens,” wrote one who visited that place some
years later, “ Sir E. Parry found a wilderness, but left a
land of hope and promise.” On his return to England in
1835, the directors of the Australian Agricultural Company
invited him to a public dinner, and presented him with a
handsome service of plate, “in testimony of the high sense
entertained of the benefits conferred by him on the colony
during his residence there.”
Returning to England in 1835, Sir Edward was appointed
assistant-commissioner of poor-law in the county of Nor¬
folk. The act of 1834, passed to remedy the abuses which
existed under the old poor-law administration, rendered
the duties of the situation arduous and often very unplea¬
sant, by bringing him into contact with those who were
unwilling to acquiesce in the new order of things. His
health shortly became impaired under the pressure of work,
and after a year and a half he was compelled to tender his re¬
signation. In accepting his resignation, the commissioners
expressed their regret, “ on their own account personally,
but still more on account of the loss of his public services,
the value of which they had learnt fully to appreciate from
the many proofs they had received of the discreet, judicious,
and efficient manner in which he had conducted his opera¬
tions in Norfolk.”
In February 1837 Sir Edward was employed for a short
time by the Admiralty in the organization of the packet Parry,
service between the Liverpool, Holyhead, and Dublin sta- .
tions. His health was now so far improved that he was
anxious to be once more actively employed. An opportu¬
nity soon presented itself. The introduction of steam-
power into the navy had by that time wrought great changes
in the service, and a new department being about this time
formed at the Admiralty, the superintendence was offered to,
and accepted by, Sir Edward, under the title of “ Comptroller
of Steam Machinery.” For nearly nine years he held the
post, which proved no sinecure. The duties of his office,
at first sufficiently arduous, became each day more laborious
During the time of his appointment as comptroller of steam
machinery the application of steam-power in the navy be¬
came almost universal. Among the most important im¬
provements effected was the introduction of the screw-pro¬
peller, now justly regarded as indispensable in every man-
of-war. Those who took an interest in this invention, and
were, consequently, able to form a judgment on the subject,
acknowledge that its success in the Royal Navy (which led to
its general adoption in the merchant service) was, in no
small degree, owing to Sir Edward’s constant and earnest
advocacy. Certainly few were more sanguine in their ex¬
pectations of its ultimate success, and none more energetic
in the support of its claims at the Admiralty. In the au¬
tumn of 1841 he was employed by Sir Robert Peel’s
government in drawing up a report on the state of the
Caledonian Canal, and the advantage which might result
from opening its waters to larger vessels. The report drawn
up by him after this survey resulted in the completion of
the Caledonian Canal, which was re-opened in April 1847,
and has been in operation since that time, with all the ad¬
vantages of increased depth of water, and other accommo¬
dation for the transit of larger vessels. In December 1846
he received from Lord Auckland (first lord of the Admi¬
ralty) the appointment to the post of captain-superinten¬
dent of the Royal Clarence Yard and of the Naval Hospi¬
tal at Haslar. The position was one in every way congenial
to his tastes, as bringing him once more into immediate con¬
nection with members of his own profession. As might be
supposed from his life at Port Stephens, he took an active in¬
terest in the spiritual, no less than the temporal, welfare of the
patients in the hospital. With the exception of the lunatics,
to whom one wing of the establishment was devoted, the same
individuals seldom remained under his control for many weeks
together, but the number of patients actually within the
walls at one time amounted to several hundreds. Desirous
of providing these with an opportunity of religious instruc¬
tion, independently of the regular services conducted by
the chaplain, Sir Edward, on the second or third Sunday
after his arrival at Haslar, commenced, with the chaplain’s
consent, a series of Sunday evening lectures, which were
continued during the whole time of his command. These
were always well attended, upwards of a hundred patients
being sometimes present. “ In such repute,” says a medi¬
cal officer of the hospital, “ were these lectures held, that
numerous visitors found their way to the officers’ houses in
order to have the satisfaction of attending them.” The
organization of the dockyard battalions was first com¬
menced during the time of Sir Edward’s command at Has¬
lar ; and the labourers and artisans employed in the Clarence
Yard were formed into a separate corps, of which he re¬
ceived his commission as colonel-commandant. While at
Haslar, Sir Edward gave his full support to the different
religious societies of which he was a member. At Gosport
and Portsea he was continually called upon to take the
chair at their provincial meetings. At the time of the
well-known papal aggression in 1850 a meeting was held
at Gosport for the purpose of presenting an address to
her Majesty; and the resolution embodying the proposed
address was moved by Sir E. Parry in an energetic speech
PAR
Parson and expressive of his own willingness to take a foremost place
Vicar. }n resisting a movement which he felt to be opposed to
Vs,—“ the Protestant throne, the Protestant liberties, and, above
all, the Protestant faith of his country ”
In the foundation of a Sailor’s Home at Portsmouth Sir
Edward took an active part. Of the great importance and
value of these institutions he was fully convinced, and always
condemned in the strongest terms the idea entertained by
not a few naval officers, that the character of British seamen
would be lowered in the eyes of the world by any attempts
to improve their moral and social condition on shore.
In May 1852 he reached his rear-admiral’s flag, and was
therefore obliged to vacate his post at Haslar ; but towards
the close of the following year he was appointed by Lord
Aberdeen to the lieutenant-governorship of Greenwich
Hospital. A lecture to seamen, delivered about this time
at Southampton, has since been published, and placed in the
seamen’s libraries of her Majesty’s ships by order of the
Admiralty. In the summer of 1854 London and its suburbs
were severely visited with Asiatic cholera. In the hospital
itself it found its victims, though its ravages there were not
so great as in the surrounding localities. Towards the end
of August Sir Edward was himself attacked with the pre¬
monitory symptoms, which, though soon brought under
control, seemed to be the exciting cause of his suffering and
fatal disorder. The malady soon evidently gained ground
instead of decreasing ; and in order to leave no means of
alleviation untried, it was determined to remove him to Ems,
for the benefit of the advice of a celebrated German doctor.
The hopes of recovery at first held out soon proved delu¬
sive, and he died on the 8th of July 1855.
The remains were brought to England, and buried in the
mausoleum of Greenwich Hospital. Sir Edward Parry was
twice married: his first wife was a daughter of Sir John
Stanley, afterwards Lord Stanley of Alderley ; the second,
Mrs Samuel Hoare junior, daughter of the Rev. R. Han-
kinson.
Besides the lecture to seamen above mentioned, and the
narratives of his four polar voyages, Sir Edward Parry
wrote a small volume—The Parental Character of God.
(See Memoirs of Rear-Admiral Sir W. E. Parry, Knt.,
F.R.S., fyc., by his son the Rev. E. Parry, M.A., London,
1857.) (E.P.)
PARSON and VICAR, in the Church of England. A
parson (persona ecclesice) is, according to Blackstone, one
who has full possession of all the rights of a parochial
church. He is called parson (persona), because by his per¬
son the church, which is an invisible body, is represented;
and he is in himself a body corporate, in order to protect
and defend the rights of the church, which he personates,
by a perpetual succession. He is sometimes called the
rector or governor of the church; but the appellation of
parson, however it may be depreciated by familiar and in¬
discriminate use, is the most legal and most honourable title
that a parish priest can enjoy; because such a one, as Sir
Edward Coke observes, and he alone, is said vicem sen
personam ecclesice gerere. A parson has during his life
the freehold in himself of the parsonage-house, the glebe,
the tithes, and other dues. But these are sometimes ap¬
propriated ; that is to say, the benefice is perpetually an
nexed to some spiritual corporation, either sole or aggregate.
The appropriating corporations, or religious houses, were
wont to depute one of their own body to perform divine
service, and administer the sacraments, in those parishes
of which the society was thus the parson. This officiating
minister was in reality no more than a curate, deputy, or
vicegerent of the appropriator, and was therefore called
vicarius, or vicar. His stipend was at the discretion of the
apptopriator, who was, however, bound of common right
to find somebody, qui UU de temporalibus, episcopo de spi-
ritualibus, debeat respondere. But this was done in so
PAR
scandalous a manner, and the parishes suffered so much
by the neglect of the appropriators, that the legislature
was forced to interpose; and accordingly it was enacted
by statute 15 Richard II., c. 6, that in all appropriations of
chuiches the diocesan bishop should ordain, in proportion
to the value of the church, a competent sum to be distri¬
buted amongst the poor parishioners annually, and to pro¬
vide that the vicarage should be sufficiently endowed. It
seems that the parish were frequent sufferers, not only by
the want of divine service, but also by the withholding
of those alms for which, amongst other purposes, the pay¬
ment of tithes was originally imposed; and therefore in
this act a pension was directed to be distributed amongst
the poor parochians, as well as a sufficient stipend to the
vicar. But he, being liable to be removed at the plea¬
sure of the appropriator, was not likely to insist too rigidly
upon the legal sufficiency of the stipend; and therefore,
by statute 4 Henry IV., c. 12, it was ordained that the
vicar should be a secular person, not a member of any re¬
ligious house; that he should be vicar perpetual, not re¬
moveable at the caprice of the monastery; and that he
should be canonically instituted and inducted, and be suf¬
ficiently endowed, at the discretion of the ordinary, to do
divine service, to inform the people, and to show hospita¬
lity. In consequence of these statutes, the endowments
were usually by a portion of the glebe, or land belonging
to the parsonage, and a particular share of the tithes,
which the appropriators found it most troublesome to col¬
lect, and which were therefore generally called petty or
small tithes; the greater, or predial tithes, being reserved
for their own use. But owing to the unsatisfactory foot¬
ing on which tithes stood in the year 1836, by 6 and 7
Will. IV., c. 71, and succeeding statutes, “The Tithe
Commissioners of England and Wales” were empowered to
commute the tithes into a rent charge adjusted to the aver¬
age price of corn.
The distinction between a parson and vicar is this:—The
parson has for the most part the whole right to all the
ecclesiastical dues in his parish; but a vicar has generally
an appropriator over him, who is entitled to the best part
of the profits, and to whom he is in effect perpetual curate,
with a standing salary. The method of becoming a parson
or vicar is much the same. To both there are four neces¬
sary requisites,—holy orders, presentation, institution, and
induction. (See Benefice.)
PARSONSTOWN, or Birr, a market-town of Ireland,
in King’s County, stands on a gentle slope near the Little
Brosna, 22 miles S.W. of Tullamore, and 69 W.S.W. of
Dublin. It is separated into two parts by the Birr, a small
affluent of the Little Brosna; and it consists of one chief
and several smaller streets. They are generally straight
and clean, and are lined with well-built stone houses. At
one end of the principal street is a handsome square, con¬
taining a column and statue of the Duke of Cumberland,
erected in 1747 to commemorate the battle of Culloden.
The parish church, built in 1815, is a fine Gothic edifice
with a square tower. The only other remarkable build¬
ing is a Roman Catholic church surmounted with a lofty
spire. There are several other places of worship, a court¬
house, several schools, a reading-room, public library, sav¬
ings-bank, dispensary, fever hospital, workhouse, and bride¬
well. In Parsonstown and its vicinity there are flour and
rape mills, linen factories, breweries, and distilleries. Corn
markets are held weekly, and fairs quarterly. The trade,
however, is of little importance. Close upon the town
stands Birr Castle, the seat of the Earl of Rosse. It is a
fine castellated and embattled building of great antiquity;
but it has been considerably modernized. In the lawn in
front of the castle Lord Rosse’s great telescope has been
setup. Pop. (1852) 5540.
PARTHENON. See Athens, and Architecture.
309
Parsons¬
town
Parthenon.
310
P A R T H I A.
Parthia.
PARTHIA, a celebrated empire of antiquity, was
bounded on the W. by Media, on the N. by Hyrcania, on
the E. by Aria, and on the S. by Caramania and Persis. It
was surrounded on every side by mountains or deserts, and
its surface was hilly and rugged. According to Ptolemy,
Parthia was divided into five districts,—Camisene, Par-
thyene, Choarene, Apavarctene, and Tabiene. The an¬
cient geographers enumerate a great many cities in this
country; Ptolemy, in particular, reckons twenty-five large
ones; and it must)have been very populous, since we have
accounts of two thousand villages, besides several cities,
which were destroyed by earthquakes. Its capital was
named Hecatompolis, so called from the circumstance of
its having a hundred gates.
The history of the ancient Parthians is involved in ob¬
scurity. All we know about them is, that they were first
subject to the Medes, then to the Persians, and lastly to
Alexander. After the death of the Macedonian conqueror,
the province fell to Seleucus Nicator, and was held by him
and his successors till the reign of Antiochus Theus, about
two centuries and a half B.c. At this time the Parthians
revolted, and chose Arsaces as their king. Seleucus Cal-
linicus, the successor of Antiochus Theus, attempted to re¬
duce Arsaces ; but the latter having had time to strengthen
himself, defeated his antagonist, and drove him out of the
country. In a short time, however, Seleucus undertook
another expedition against Arsaces, which proved still more
unfortunate than the former; for being defeated in a great
battle, he was taken prisoner, and died in captivity. Ar¬
saces being thus established in his new kingdom, reduced
Hyrcania and several other provinces; but he was at last
killed in a battle against Ariarathes, King of Cappadocia.
From this prince all the other kings of Parthia took the
surname of Arsaces, as those of Egypt did that of Ptolemy
from Ptolemy Soter.
Arsaces was succeeded by his son, who, having entered
Media, made himself master of that country whilst An¬
tiochus the Great was engaged in war with Ptolemy Euer-
getes, King of Egypt. Antiochus, however, had no sooner
found himself disengaged from that war, than he marched
with all his forces against Arsaces, and at first drove him
completely out of Media. But the latter soon returned
with an army of 100,000 foot and 20,000 horse, with which
he put a stop to the progress of Antiochus; and a treaty was
soon afterwards concluded, by which it was agreed that
Arsaces should remain master of Parthia and Hyrcania,
upon condition of assisting Antiochus in his wars with other
nations.
Arsaces II. was succeeded by his son Priapatius, who
reigned fifteen years, and left three sons,—Phraates, Mith-
ridates, and Artabanus. Phraates, the elder, succeeded
to the throne, and reduced the Mardians, who had never
been conquered by any but Alexander. His brother Mith-
ridates, who was next invested with the regal dignity, re¬
duced the Bactrians, Medes, Persians, and Elymeans, and
overran a great part of the East, penetrating beyond the
boundaries of Alexander’s conquests. Demetrius Nicator,
who then reigned in Syria, endeavoured to recover these
provinces; but his army was entirely destroyed, and he
himself taken prisoner, in which state he remained till his
death. After this victory, Mithridates made himself master
of Babylonia and Mesopotamia; so that all the provinces
between the Euphrates and the Ganges were now subject
to his sway.
Mithridates died in the thirty-seventh year of his reign,
between 138 and 130 b.c., leaving the throne to his son
Phraates II. But the latter was scarcely settled in his
kingdom, when Antiochus Sidetes marched against him at
the head of a numerous army, on the pretence of delivering
his brother Demetrius, who was still detained in captivity.
Phraates was defeated in three pitched battles, in which
he lost all the countries conquered by his father, and was
reduced within the limits of the ancient Parthian kingdom.
Antiochus, however, did not long enjoy his good fortune.
His numerous army being obliged to scatter themselves
over the country, were attacked at disadvantage by the in¬
habitants, and all the invaders, along with their monarch,
were exterminated. Phraates, elated with this success,
proposed to invade Syria; but happening to quarrel with
the Scythians, he was cut off, with his whole army, by that
people.
Phraates was succeeded by his uncle Artabanus. The
new king, however, enjoyed his dignity for a very short
time, being, a few days after his accession, killed in another
battle with the Scythians. He was succeeded by Pacorus,
who entered into an alliance with the Romans. Who was
the next occupant of the throne has not been ascertained;
but the next king whose reign is authenticated was Sana-
troces. He died about 70 b.c., after a reign of seven years,
and was succeeded by Phraates III. This monarch took
under his protection Tigranes, the son of Tigranes the
Great, King of Armenia, gave the young prince his daughter
in marriage, and invaded the kingdom with a design to
place him on the throne of Armenia; but he soon thought
proper to retire, and to remain at peace with the Romans.
Phraates was murdered by his children Mithridates and
Orodes; and soon afterwards the former was put to death
by his brother, who thus became the sole master of the
Parthian empire.
In this reign happened the ever-memorable war with the
Romans under Crassus. It had its origin in the spirit of
rivalry which existed between the triumvirs who then
presided over the destinies of Rome. Pompey had con¬
quered Mithridates and the pirates; Caesar had subdued
Gaul; and Crassus felt the necessity of maintaining his
position by the achievement of some military exploit. Ac¬
cordingly, no sooner had he been elected consul in 55 b.c.,
and obtained Syria for his province, than he resolved to
invade Parthia. This expedition, owing to the fact that it
was directed against a friendly people, met with consider¬
able opposition at its very outset. The Senate refused to
sanction it. The presence of Pompey was required to save
it from an attack of popular dissatisfaction as it passed
through the streets of Rome. When it issued from the
city, the tribune Ateius, posted at the gate, with strange
and awful incantations and anathemas, devoted it and its
leader to perdition. Nevertheless, Crassus persisted in his
enterprise. He marched to Brundusium, and sailed to
Macedonia. Continuing his route through Macedonia and
Thrace, across the Hellespont, and through Galatia and
the northern part of Syria, he crossed the Euphrates, and
commenced hostilities. Yet scarcely had a few towns
yielded to the Roman arms, than that imprudence of
Crassus which led to the ruin of the expedition began to
manifest itself. Instead of following up his success, press¬
ing onwards, and attacking the enemy unprepared, he
returned to Syria, and passed the winter in inactivity. It
was not deemed necessary to collect information and to
provide resources for the coming campaign. The soldiers
were allowed to neglect their training and discipline. He
himself spent his time in inquiring into the revenues of
cities and weighing gold in the temple of Hierapolis. This
infatuation reached a climax when the time for taking the
field again, and advancing into the heart of Parthia, arrived.
In vain did his ally Artavasdes, King of Armenia, advise
him to direct his route along the chain of the Armenian
mountains, where his march might be safe from the attacks
of the enemy’s cavalry. In vain did the quaestor, the
famous Caius Cassius, suggest to him the expediency of
marching along by the side of the Euphrates, where the
army might be supplied with provisions from the ships.
His ear was given unreservedly to an Arab chief, who pro-
Parthia.
P A K T H I A.
Parthia. fessed the most devoted fidelity to the Romans, but who
had come expressly to betray them into the hands of the
Parthian king. By the advice of this smooth-tongued bar¬
barian, he resolved to advance right through Mesopotamia.
A series of disasters, unsurpassed in ancient history for
their tragic interest, was the result. The army had not
advanced far before they found themselves in the midst of
a waste sandy plain stretching away on all sides to the
horizon. There were no trees to shield them from the
burning sun, no herbs to supply fodder for their horses, no
streams to slake their parched throats. Want and destruc¬
tion seemed to be closing around them. At this juncture
they received intelligence that the foe was at hand. Then
there rushed upon their minds the reports they had for¬
merly heard of those formidable Parthian horsemen who
were clothed in impenetrable mail, who drove their arrows
sheer through the shields and breast-plates of their enemies,
and who, while fleeing, turned round upon their saddles
and shot down their pursuers with deadly certainty. Their
courage began to falter. Crassus himself was so paralysed
with terror that he was at a loss how to arrange his forces
for the coming onset. At first he extended them in a
long line, to prevent them from being surrounded. Then
he formed them into a solid square, flanked by squadrons
of cavalry. In this order they were hurried on over the
toilsome desert until they came in sight of the Parthians
under the command of Surenas. The Parthian army ap¬
peared to be neither large nor well-equipped. But no
sooner had the signal for battle been given, than up from
its rear, as if from the bosom of the earth, sprung battalion
after battalion of barbarian soldiers. At the same instant
their coats of skin, which had aided in concealing them
from the eye, were dropped off, and they stood under the
summer sun a living mass of glittering steel. The order
to advance was passed, and on they came, marching to the
crash of kettle-drums, and exasperating their valour to the
pitch of frenzy with savage yells and bellowings. With a
well-directed flight of arrows, they drove the advancing
battalions of the invaders back into the ranks of their
densely-crowded square. Then, surrounding that mass of
living beings, they began to pour in upon it a continuous
shower of deadly shafts. At first the Romans expected
that their assailants would lay aside their bows, and come
to a hand-to-hand engagement. They therefore stood pas¬
sively for a while under the winged destruction which fell
upon them. When they perceived, however, that there
were camel-loads of arrows, furnishing a continual supply to
the quivers of the archers, their strained patience gave way.
A part of the army under young Crassus charged out upon
their foes, and finding that they retreated, pursued them at
full speed. Yet no sooner had the Parthians drawn their
pursuers to some distance away from the main body of the
Roman army, than wheeling suddenly round under con¬
cealment of a cloud of dust, they caught them completely
off their guard. Cutting off their retreat, and hemming
them in on all sides, they brought them to bay upon a
small eminence, and showered in arrows upon them till not
a man was left. Then they returned with redoubled valour,
and with loud shouts of victory, to renew their onslaught
upon the main body of the invading army* Their heavy
cavalry drove in and compressed the enemy’s square with
their pikes, as their light cavalry thinned it with their
arrows. The approach of darkness alone put a stop to
their destructive attacks. As the diminished numbers of
the Romans encamped that night among their dead, they
were in great perplexity about their impending fate.
Ciassus lay prostrate upon the earth in the stupor of de¬
spair, and could take no measures for the common safety.
It became the duty of the quaestor Cassius and the lieu¬
tenant Octavius to call a council of war. The resolution
was adopted of escaping immediately while the enemy was
at a distance passing the night. Leaving the wounded
behind to bewail their fate, they hastened away with all
possible speed, and arrived at Carhae (the Haran of the
Bible) before they could be overtaken. The ill-fated Ro¬
mans, however, were still within the toils of their artful
enemy. When they would have tarried within the town
for reinforcements from Armenia, they found their Parthian
pursuers encamped before the walls, and ready to com¬
mence an assault. When they determined to depart from
the city by night, and continue their retreat, a citizen
named Andromachus plotted their destruction. He first
informed Surenas of their intention. Then undertaking to
guide them in their flight, he retarded their escape by
leading them in a zig-zag course, and completed their be¬
wilderment by landing them in a morass. Cassius, indeed,
disentangled himself from this snare, and, at the head of
five hundred horse, found his way to Syria. But day
came, and showed Crassus with four cohorts still floundering
in the swamp, and the Parthians close at hand. He had
only time to get out of the marshes, and to station his
troops on a height, when the enemy came up. Surenas
now saw reason for changing his tactics. A range of moun¬
tains was near; the least delay might allow the Romans to
escape thither, and there they would be secure from the
onset of the Parthian cavalry. He resolved to try strata¬
gem. Advancing from among his men to the foot of the
height, with bow unbent and hand outstretched, he invited
the Roman general to a peaceful conference. In obedience
to the clamorous demand of his troops, Crassus went down
the hill with a few attendants. “ What!” exclaimed the
wily barbarian ; “ a Roman general on foot! Let a horse
be brought.” A richly-caparisoned steed was led up. A
significant glance from Surenas informed the Parthian at¬
tendants what they were to do. They lifted Crassus roughly
on to the saddle, and began to hurry him away. The Ro¬
mans who had come along with him interfered; a scuffle
ensued; and the unfortunate triumvir was slain. The
triumph of the Parthians was now easily completed. A
part of the Romans surrendered ; those who attempted to
escape were pursued and cut to pieces; and King Orodes
celebrated the victory by ordering molten gold to be
poured into the mouth of Crassus, in mockery of the ava¬
rice of the deceased.
But Surenas did not long enjoy the pleasure of his vic¬
tory ; for Orodes, jealous of his power and authority amongst
the Parthians, soon afterwards caused him to be put to death.
Pacorus, the king’s favourite son, was placed at the head of
the army, and, agreeably to his father’s directions, invaded
Syria; but he was driven back with great loss by Cicero
and by Cassius, the only general who had survived the de¬
feat of Crassus. After this no mention is made of the Par¬
thians till the time of the civil war between Caesar and
Pompey, when the latter sent ambassadors to solicit succour
against his rivals. This Orodes was willing to grant, upon
condition that Syria should be delivered up to him ; but as
Pompey would not consent to such a proposal, the succours
were denied.
Caesar is said to have meditated a war against the Par¬
thians, which in all probability would have proved fatal to
them. His death delivered them from this danger. But
not long afterwards the eastern provinces of the Roman
empire being grievously oppressed by Mark Antony, rose
in arms, and invited the Parthians to join them. The
latter readily accepted the invitation; and in 40b.c. crossed
the Euphrates under the command of Pacorus and Labi-
enus, a Roman general of Pompey’s party. At first they
met with great success, and overran all Asia Minor, reduc¬
ing the countries as far as the Hellespont and the Aigean
Sea, and likewise subduing Phoenicia, Syria, and even Ju¬
dea. They did not, however, long enjoy their* new con¬
quests ; for, being elated with their victories, and despising
311
Parthia.
I
312
P A R T H I A.
Parthia. enemy, they engaged Ventidius, Antony’s lieutenant,
before they had effected a junction with the forces under
Labienus, and sustained a complete defeat. This so dis¬
heartened Labienus that he abandoned his men by night,
and left them to be cut to pieces. Ventidius, pursuing
his advantage, gained several other victories, and at last
entirely defeated the Parthian army under Pacorus, slaugh¬
tering almost the whole of them, and the prince himself
among the rest. He did not, however, pursue this victory as
he might have done, being afraid of giving umbrage to An¬
tony, who had already become jealous of the great honour
gained by his lieutenant. He therefore contented himself
with reducing those places in Syria and Phoenicia which the
Parthians had taken in the beginning of the war, until An¬
tony arrived to take the command of the army upon himself.
Orodes was almost distracted with grief on receiving the
dreadful news of the loss of his army, and the death of his
favourite son. When time had restored the use of his facul¬
ties, he appointed Phraates, the eldest but the most wicked
of all his children, to be his colleague and successor.
Phraates commenced his reign by murdering his father,
his thirty brothers, and all the rest of the royal family. He
did not even spare his own eldest son, lest the discontented
Parthians should place him, as he was already of age, upon
the throne. Many of the chief lords of Parthia, intimi¬
dated by the cruelty of the new king, retired into foreign
countries. One of these, Monceses, a person of great dis¬
tinction, having fled to Antony, arrived in time to aid the
Roman general in planning an expedition against the Par¬
thians. Accordingly Antony set out on his march towards
the Euphrates in 36 B.C., at the head of an army of 100,000.
On his arrival at the river, he found all the defiles so well
guarded that he deemed it expedient to enter Media, with
a design first to reduce that country, and then to penetrate
into Parthia. Leaving his battering-engines to follow in
the rear under the protection of two legions, he advanced
by forced marches to the Median city of Praaspa or Phraata,
and immediately invested it. But a long series of disasters
now began to thwart the object of his enterprise. The
convoy in charge of his storming-machines was attacked
and cut to pieces before it could reach the place of its desti¬
nation. His beleaguering forces continued to blockade the
town without any success, until the growing desolation of
the surrounding country, and the coming severity of win¬
ter, warned them to repair to some more hospitable clime.
He then exchanged the toils of a^i unsuccessful siege only
for the disasters of an inglorious retreat. During his march
homewards, the redoubted Parthian cavalry hovered round
the army, laying waste the country in front, harassing the
rear, and intercepting supplies. Several defeats which he
gave them did not check their pertinacity. They continued
their flying attacks until he reached the borders of Arme¬
nia, and had lost more than 20,000 men, the flower of the
Roman army,
Antony was no sooner gone than the kings of Media
and Parthia quarrelled about the booty which they had
taken; and, after various contests, Phraates reduced all
Media and Armenia. Elated with his conquests, he then
oppressed his subjects in such a cruel and tyrannical man¬
ner that a civil war broke out, in which the competitors for
the crpwn were alternately driven out and restored, until
the middle of the first century, when one Vologeses, the
son of a former king, became the peaceable possessor of
the throne. He carried on some wars agains the Romans,
but with indifferent success, and at last gladly consented
to a renewal of the ancient treaties with that powerful
people.
From this time the Parthian history presents nothing
remarkable until the reign of the Emperor Trajan, when
the Parthian king, by name Chosroes, displeased the Ro¬
mans by driving out the King of Armenia. Upon this,
Trajan, glad of any pretence to quarrel with the Parthians, Parthia
immediately hastened into Armenia. His arrival there '
was so unexpected that he reduced almost the whole
country without opposition, and took prisoner and put to
death Parthamasiris the king, who had been set up by the
Parthians. After this, he entered Mesopotamia, took the
city of Nisibis, and reduced to a Roman province the whole
of that wealthy country.
Early in the spring of the following year, Trajan, who
had withdrawn to winter quarters in Antioch, again took
the field against the Parthians. Having crossed the Eu¬
phrates in the face of a continued shower of arrows from
the enemy on the opposite bank, he advanced boldly into
Assyria, and made himself master of Arbela. Thence he
pursued his march, subduing with incredible rapidity
countries where the Roman standard had never before
been displayed. Babylonia voluntarily submitted to him,
and Babylon itself was, after a vigorous resistance, taken
by storm; so that he became master of all Chaldaea and
Assyria, the two richest provinces of the Parthian empire.
From Babylon he marched to Ctesiphon, the metropolis
of the Parthian monarchy, which he besieged, and at last
reduced. But whilst Trajan was thus making war in the
heart of the enemy’s country, Chosroes, having recruited his
army, set out to recover Mesopotamia. On his arrival in
that province, the inhabitants flocked to him from all parts ;
and most of the cities, having driven out the garrisons left
by Trajan, opened their gates to him. The emperor, how¬
ever, detached Lucius and Maximus into Mesopotamia to
check the revolt. Maximus was met by Chosroes, and de¬
feated and slain ; but Lucius gained considerable advan¬
tages over the enemy, and retook Nisibis, Seleucia, and
other cities. Trajan then repaired to Ctesiphon, and hav¬
ing assembled the chief men of the nation, he crowned one
of the royal family, by name Parthamaspates, king of Par¬
thia, obliging all those who were present to engage to pay
him allegiance. Thus Parthia was at last subdued and made
tributary to Rome.
But the Parthians did not long continue in this state of
subjection. For no sooner had they heard of Trajan’s
death, which happened shortly afterwards, than they drove
Parthamaspates from the throne, and, recalling Chosroes,
openly revolted against Rome. Hadrian, -who was then
commander-in-chief of all the forces in the East, and who
was soon afterwards acknowledged as emperor, did not wish
to engage in any new war with such a formidable enemy.
He therefore abandoned those provinces which Trajan had
conquered, withdrew the Roman garrisons from Mesopo¬
tamia, and fixed the Euphrates as the boundary of the em¬
pire in those parts.
Chosroes died after a long reign, and was succeeded by
his eldest son Yologeses. In the reign of the latter, the
Alani, a barbarous horde, broke into Media, and could
only be induced by large presents to return home. His
successor, also called Vologeses, having no enemy to con¬
tend with at home, fell unexpectedly upon Armenia, cut the
legions in pieces, entered Syria, defeated Cornelianus, go¬
vernor of that province, and advanced without opposition to
the neighbourhood of Antioch, putting everywhere the Ro¬
mans, and those who favoured them, to the sword. The
Emperor Yerus, by the advice of his colleague, Antoninus
the Philosopher, hastened into Syria, and having driven
the Parthians out of that province, ordered Statius Priscus
to invade Armenia, and Cassius to carry the war into the
enemy’s own country. Priscus made himself master of
Artaxata, and in one campaign drove the Parthians out of
Armenia. Cassius, on the other hand, reduced all those
provinces which had formerly submitted to Trajan, sacked
Seleucia and Ctesiphon, and struck terror into the most re¬
mote provinces of that empire. Not long afterwards, An¬
toninus the Philosopher, repairing to Syria to settle the
PAR
Partner- affairs of that province, was met by ambassadors from Volo-
sh'P‘ J geses. That prince, having by this time recovered most
—■■V*'' of the provinces subdued by Cassius, promised to hold them
of the Roman emperor. To these terms Antoninus readily
agreed ; and a peace was accordingly concluded between
the two empires.
Upon the death of Vologeses, his nephew, who bore the
same name, was raised to the throne. He sent troops to
the assistance of Pescennius Niger in his contest for the
imperial crown. Accordingly, no sooner had Severus, the
successful competitor, established, his authority at home,
than he advanced to punish the Parthians, and laid siege to
their capital Ctesiphon. Ihe city was at length taken by
assault, and the king’s treasures, with his wives and children,
fell into the hands of the conquerors. Severus, however,
had no sooner crossed the Euphrates than Vologeses re¬
covered all the provinces which he had reduced, except
Mesopotamia. On the death of this monarch, a contest for
the crown ensued between his sons. Vologeses was at
first successful; but Artabanus ultimately succeeded in
establishing himself on the throne. He had scarcely settled
the affairs of his kingdom when the Emperor Caracalla,
Jesirous to signalize himself by some memorable exploit
against the Parthians, sent a solemn embassy to their king,
desiring his daughter in marriage. Artabanus complied
with his request, and went to meet him, attended with his
principal nobility and his best troops, all unarmed. But
this peaceable train no sooner approached the Roman
army than it was attacked and mercilessly butchered by
the soldiers, the king himself escaping with very great
difficulty.
d his inhuman treachery Artabanus resolved to revenge.
Accordingly, having raised the most numerous army that
had ever been known in Parthia, he crossed the Euphrates,
PAR
313
and ravaged Syria with fire and sword. But Caracalla be- Partick
mg murdered before this invasion, Macrinus, who had II
meanwhile succeeded to the purple, met him at the head of Partrier-
a mighty army composed of many legions and all the Bhip-
auxiliaries of the states of Asia. The battle lasted two '   
days, both nations fighting so obstinately that night only
parted them, without any apparent advantage on either
side. On the third day the Roman emperor sent a herald
to Artabanus, acquainting him with the death of Caracalla,
and proposing an alliance between the two empires. The
king, understanding that his great enemy was dead, readily
embraced the proposal, upon condition that all the prisoners
who had been so perfidiously taken by Caracalla should be
immediately restored, and a large sum of money paid to
defray the expenses of the war.
As Artabanus on this occasion had lost the flower of his
army, the Persians, under the command of Artaxerxes, a
man of mean descent, but of great courage and experience
in war, revolted against the Parthians. They were suc¬
cessful in two battles, and in a third they annihilated the
army of their enemies, and took the king prisoner. Ar¬
tabanus was soon afterwards put to death by order of Ar¬
taxerxes; and the Parthians were forced to become the
vassals of a nation which had been subject to them for the
space of 475 years.
PARIICK, a village of Scotland, county of Lanark,
forming a suburb of Glasgow, from which it is about 2
miles W.M.W. It stands near the confluence of the Kelvin
with tlm Clyde, and has many fine villas in the neighbour¬
hood. I here are an Established, a Free, and two United
Presbyterian churches, several schools, and a literary so¬
ciety. In the village and its vicinity there are large flour¬
mills, a cotton factory, bleachfields, and ship-building yards.
Pop. 2747.
PARTNERSHIP, LIMITED AND UNLIMITED LIABILITY.
Definition. Partnership, in Political Economy, the voluntary asso¬
ciation of two or more individuals for carrying on some
business or undertaking in common, each deriving a certain
shaie of the profits, and generally bearing a correspondin''1’
share of the loss arising therefrom.1
The term partnership is commonly applied to those
smaller associations consisting usually of less than six, and
not more than twenty persons—in which the partners
personally conduct their joint affairs: the term company
being applied to those great associations conducted by
directors and servants appointed by the body of the partners
to act for them, the latter having no direct concern in the
management of-the company’s affairs.
L Partners,liPs> whether the number of partners be great
irincipie 0r1 aie founded on that principle of association to
>n which 7lch most great results may be ascribed. There are but
ounded. cw industiial undertakings that can be advantageously
carried on without the co-operation of different persons.
Many of them require a greater amount of capital than
is usually at the disposal of individuals ; and they almost all
require a combination of various capacities and talents. And
hence the advantage of uniting together to effect a common
purpose. By the union of funds a sufficient capital is ob-
tained. And when it happens, as is often the case, that
those who contribute funds are without the peculiar skill
or now edge required to carry on the business, there are
always parties to be found ready to supply this deficiency,
and to contribute, as their share of the common stock, that
science and practical knowledge2 which the others want,
and which are indispensable in all undertakings. And
the income of both parties being dependent upon, and
proportioned to, the profits which the business yields,
they have the most powerful motive to exert themselves,
and to put forth all their energies. Nothing can be more
beneficial than such an organization. It brings different
classes of individuals into the most intimate relationship,
elicits their peculiar talents, and makes them mutually
serviceable. In a properly-constituted partnership or asso¬
ciation, capital, science, and skill are blended in their due
proportions ; and by their combined action produce results
that would otherwise be wholly unattainable.
It happens, indeed, that, like most other things, partner¬
ships are sometimes productive of mischievous results.
But these are occasioned either by their perversion or
abuse. The public interest requires that the whole part¬
ners in a firm should be bound by the acts of any one of
their number; so that the folly or fraud of a single partner
may entail very serious consequences upon those associated
with him. Generally, however, this is not an evil of fre¬
quent occurrence; and there can be no question that, both
in a private and public point of view, partnerships are
highly beneficial. And hence their multiplication. They
have grown with the growth of commerce and industry,
Socutas est contractus juris gentium, bonce fidei, consensu constans, super re honestd, de lucri et damni communione ; quam inire possunt
omnes liber am habentes rerum suarum administrationem. (Voet. Comm., lib. xvii., tit. ii., § 1.)
ta posse coiri societatem non dubitatur, ut alter pecuniam conferat, alter non conferat; et tamen lucrum inter eos commune sit, quia scepe
opera alicujus pro pecunid valet. (Instit., lib. Hi., tit. xxvi., § 2.)
VOL. XVH. 2 R
314
Partner¬
ship.
Leading
principles
in the law
of partner¬
ship.
PARTNERSHIP.
and have been at once a cause and a consequence of the
extraordinary extension of the businesses carried on by
their agency.
To enter into anything like a full discussion of the law
of partnership would very far exceed our limits. We shall
therefore merely state a few of those leading principles
with respect to it with which it is of importance that mer¬
cantile men, and the public generally, should be acquainted.
The mere consent of the partners, fixed and certified by
acts or contracts, is quite sufficient to constitute a private
copartnership; so that if two or more merchants, or other
persons, join together in trade, or in any sort of business,
with a mutual, though it may be unequal, participation in
the profit and loss of the concern, they are in every respect
to be considered as partners. If there be no provision to
the contrary, each partner would share in the profits ac¬
cording to the value of his contribution to the stock of the
partnership, whether it consist of money, goods, skill, or
labour ; and, under the circumstances supposed, each would
share in the loss in the same proportion in which he would
have shared in the profit, had there been any. But the
proportion of gain or loss to be borne by the various part¬
ners may be varied in every possible way. No particular
form of words or proceeding is necessary to constitute a
partnership. It may be entered into either by an express
written agreement, or by a merely verbal one. The former,
however, ought in almost all cases to be preferred. The
contract of copartnery should state the parties to it; the
business to be carried on ; the space of time the partnership
is to continue ; the capital, time, or skill which each is to
bring into the common stock, or give to the business ; the
proportions in which the profit and loss are to be divided;
the manner in which the business is to be conducted ;
the mode agreed upon for settling accounts at the dissolu¬
tion of the partnership ; together with the special covenants
adapted to the circumstances of each particular case.
To constitute a partnership, there must be a participation
in uncertain profits and losses;1 and the true criterion to
determine whether a party be a partner or not is, to ascertain
whether the premium or profit he receives is certain and
defined, or casual, indefinite, and depending upon the acci¬
dents of trade. In the former case he is not, and in the
latter he is, a partner. A participation in the profits of any
business or adventure, without a participation in the losses,
constitutes a partnership so far as to render the individual
so participating liable to third parties for the engagements
of the concern, though, as between the parties themselves,
it may be no partnership. Persons acting merely in the
character of servants in any undertaking, such as seamen
in the whale or seal fishery, and receiving as wages a sum
proportioned to the profits made by their employers, are
not partners.
If an individual, by his own act or inadvertence, allow
himself to appear to the world as a partner, he is precluded
from disputing the fact, even though he have no interest in
the profits. A partner who withdraws from a firm is liable
for its debts should the remaining partners continue his
name in the firm, though without his consent, unless he
take the necessary precautions to show that he has ceased
to belong to it. (See post.)
If there be no express stipulation as to the management
of partnership business, the majority decide as to the dis¬
position and conduct of the joint affairs of the firm ; or if
there be but two parties in a firm, one may manage the
concern as he thinks fit, provided it be within the rules of
good faith, and warranted by the circumstances of the case.
The general duty of a partner is to keep in view, at all times Partner-
and in all transactions, the interest and welfare of the part- shiP-
nership, by acting honestly and as a prudent man would
conduct his own affairs. He ought to have no secrets
apart from his copartners in matters connected with their
common concern ; and he ought carefully to abstain from
engaging in any business or speculation, whether on his
own account or with others, that would divert his attention
from the affairs of the partnership, or would clash with, or
be inimical to, its interests.
Partners may be avowed, ostensible, or dormant. In
regard to the first two there is no difficulty; for whether a
man be really a partner, or holds himself out to the public
and passes as such, is immaterial in so far as his liability to
the latter is concerned. And in the case of dormant part¬
ners—that is, of partners who participate in the profits of
concerns without disclosing their names—they are as liable
as the others the moment it is ascertained that they are
partners ; and they may be pursued for debts contracted
when it was not known that they belonged to the partner¬
ship.
Partners may distribute their profits and regulate their
affairs in any way they please among themselves ; but they
cannot by so doing limit, defeat, or elude their responsibility
to others. Each partner, however small his share in the
concern, is liable, in all ordinary partnerships, for the entire
debts of the association. And it is for the advantage of
the partners, as well as of the public, that such should be the
case. It makes the former peculiarly sensitive in regard to
each other’s character and conduct, and cautious as to the
nature of the transactions into which they enter ; and it gives
the latter that security to which they are entitled, and on
which only they can place any reliance in dealing with the
great majority of firms.
The act of one partner is not sufficient to bind the others,
unless it relate to, and be connected with, the peculiar
business carried on by the partnership : For it is only when
they act with reference to the business of their respective
firms that partners are to be considered as their accredited
agents or delegates ; and it is in such cases only that those
who deal with them are entitled to rely on the security of
the partnerships which they represent. It may sometimes,
perhaps, be difficult to say whether a transaction into which
a partner is willing to enter be so connected with the busi¬
ness of the partnership as to bind the latter. And in such
cases third parties had better be cautious, and decline en¬
gaging in a doubtful transaction, unless they have special
grounds for placing entire confidence in the partner with
whom they are dealing, or have learned that his proceed¬
ings are known to, and will be sanctioned by, the firm. In
matters which are clearly unconnected with the business of
the partnership it is not in the power of one partner, unless
under very peculiar circumstances, to bind the others.
(Smith On Mercantile Laiv, 5th ed., cap. ii., § 5 ; Kent On
the Law of Partnership, p. 37, &c.)
The powers of partners are very extensive. They may
pledge or sell the effects of the partnership, or compound
for its debts. And they may purchase such goods as they
please, having relation to the business of their firms, pro¬
vided there be no collusion between them and the sellers,
and that no intimation has been made to the latter by the
other partners that they will not be bound by the transac¬
tion. Partners are not bound by a contract entered into
by one of their number as an individual only, and on his
own account. But if it have exclusive reference to the
business of the firm, the presumption is, that it has been
entered into upon its account; and this presumption is not
1 A partnership in which all the profit is to go to one set of partners, and all the loss to the others, was called by the Roman lawyers
a Uonim society (societas leonina), from the lion, who, though assisted by other animals in his hunting expeditions, took all the prey to
himself. (Phaedrus, lib. i., Fab. 5.)
PARTNERSHIP.
Partner- to be disputed except by distinct and conclusive evidence-
ship. One partner cannot, as such, bind another by deed, except
in bankruptcy.
Partners, though they should act in a fraudulent manner
as respects their copartners, bind the firm in all matters
connected with its peculiar dealings. But this rule will
not hold unless the strangers or third parties with whom
a fraudulent transaction has been concluded, have acted
bona fide. Any knowledge of, or participation in, the fraud
on their part will vitiate and upset the transaction, and re¬
lieve the partnership from its responsibility. And though
the fraud were not really known to the third party, yet, if the
circumstances were such as ought to have led a man of
ordinary discernment to suspect there was something wrong
—that the partner with whom he was dealing had no au¬
thority to act for the others, or that the transaction had a
suspicious character—it would be set aside. In such cases,
excess of negligence or stupidity has the same conse¬
quences as connivance or guilty knowledge. “ There is
no doubt, said Lord Mansfield, “but that the act of every
single partner, in a transaction relating to the partnership,
binds all the others. But there is no general rule which
may not be infected by ‘ covin,’ or by such gross negli¬
gence as may amount or be equivalent to covin ; for covin
is defined to be a contrivance between two to defraud or
cheat a third.” (Smith, ubi supra, p. 44.)
Parties have frequently been not a little surprised to find
that they were, unknown to themselves, partners in bank¬
rupt firms, and, as such, responsible for their debts. No¬
thing is more common than for books to be printed and pub¬
lished, the publisher taking the risk of the publication and
defraying its cost, the author getting for his remuneration
half the profits, should there be any, which is not often the
case. This, however, is clearly a partnership transaction.
And in the event of the failure of a publisher who has pub¬
lished a work in the way now stated, the printers, paper-
makers, binders, and others engaged in bringing it out,
supposing their bills have not been paid, fall back upon
the author, who, being a partner in the speculation, is
bound to discharge their claims ! Cases of this sort are not
imaginary merely, but have occurred over and over again.
I his, indeed, is a matter in regard to which the writer of
this article may truly say, “ Hand inexpertus loquor” And
such being the risks which authors who enter into en¬
gagements of this sort have to encounter, they will do well,
before embarking in them, carefully to inquire into the
character and position of the publishers with whom their
interests are to be associated.
The authority of a partner is revocable; and it is fully
established that a disclaimer of the authority of the partners
in any particular transaction precludes the individual by
whom it is made from binding his copartners. Even during
the subsistence of the partnership one partner may to a
certain degree limit his responsibility; and if there be any
particular speculation or bargain proposed of which he
disapproves, he may, by giving distinct notice to those with
whom his partners are about to contract that he will not be
concerned in it, relieve himself from the consequences,
buch notice would rebut his primd facie liability. The
partnership would be suspended quoad this transaction.
1 bus, if a partner draw, accept, or indorse a bill or note,
Re will, in all ordinary cases, thereby render the firm liable.
ut, to use the words of Lord Ellenborough, “ it is not es¬
sential to a partnership that every partner should have such
power; they may stipulate among themselves that it shall not
e one, and if a third party, having notice of this, will take
sue i security from one of the partners, he shall not sue the
ot icr upon it, in breach of such stipulation, nor in defiance
o notice previously given to him by one of them that he
wu not be liable for any bill or note signed by the others.”
a way v. Matthew, 10 East, 264.) And so in other cases.
315
Partner¬
ship.
When one of the partners has been made liable for the
debts of the firm, he must seek his remedy in a rateable
contribution against the others. Should one party enter
into a smuggling or other illegal transaction on the partner¬
ship account, the other partners are liable for the duties
and the penalty ; and it is optional with the Crown to pro¬
ceed against the real delinquent only, or against his part¬
ners. A bookseller or newspaper proprietor is answerable
for the acts of his agent or copartner, not only civilly, but
also criminally.
A partnership may be dissolved by the effluxion or ex-Dissolution
piration of the time during1 which it was originally agreed of partner-
that it should continue. When it is formed for a single shiP9-
ti ansaction, it is at an end as soon as it is completed.
1 artneiships may’’ also be dissolved by death, agreement,
bankruptcy, outlawry, &c. A court of equity will inter¬
fere to dissolve a partnership if a partner evince such gross
carelessness or misconduct as would be ruinous to the firm,
or would defeat the object for which the partnership
was formed ; or when a partner becomes insane, or is in
such a state of mind as to render him permanently inca¬
pable of transacting the peculiar business of the firm ; or
where a partnership is formed for an impracticable purpose.
Indeed, in all cases where even a partnership may be dis¬
solved without the interference of a court of equity, it may
be most prudent, if the dissolution be opposed by one or
more of the partners, to file a bill praying a dissolution and
account, and an injunction against using the partnership
name.
When a partnership is dissolved by agreement, or one of
the partners withdraws from it, public notice of the dissolu¬
tion should be given in the London Gazette, and a specific
intimation of the circumstances should be sent to all indi¬
viduals accustomed to deal with the firm. Where such
intimation has not been sent, an individual withdrawing
from a firm may be made liable to third parties after he has
ceased to have anything to do with it. He should also take
care that his name is struck out of the firm; for if it be
allowed to remain in it, strangers may suppose that he is
still one of the partners, and he may thus be rendered respon¬
sible to them. A dormant partner, however, whose name
has never been announced as belonging to a firm, may
withdraw from it at pleasure without taking any step to
disclose the dissolution of partnership.
It would, however, be expedient, in the view of getting ^Tner3f
rid of the serious inconveniences to which partners with- should tie
drawing from firms are sometimes subjected, and still more, publblu J.
of giving to the public that authentic information to which
they are entitled, that the names of all partners in all part¬
nerships, whether great or small, should be periodically
published, and hung up in their places of business. Those
who have to transact with firms, being in this way made
aware of the individuals with whom they are really dealing,
would act accordingly. But at present nothing may be
known of these matters, or, if known, it may be by a
few only; and there is no security whether, if inquiries
were made regarding the matter, they would be truly
answered. It is not by any means uncommon for firms to
be continued under certain names long after the parties
who bore them have ceased to exist, and without their
having left either descendants or representatives of any sort
in the business. And the designations A. B. & Co., A. B.
C. & Co., and such like, are often assumed when in truth
the Co. is a mere fiction. In these and similar cases the
public is apt to be deceived, and to suppose that it is deal¬
ing with certain parties, when, in fact, it is dealing with
totally different parties. But as such deceptions and am¬
biguities are uniformly mischievous, they ought to be put
an end to, and firms proclaimed to be what they really are.
316
Partner¬
ship.
Formation
and consti¬
tution of
joint-stock
companies.
PARTNERSHIP.
We therefore are disposed entirely to approve of the
principle of the bill introduced into Parliament during the
session of 1858 (by Lord Goderich) for the compulsory
registration of the partners in partnerships. The clamour
that was raised against it was most unreasonable. It could
make no improper disclosures; for if a man be ashamed of
being in a partnership, the sooner he leaves it the better it
will be for himself and all concerned. Neither did it inter¬
fere in any manner of way with the freedom of industry or
of association, or lay any restriction on one thing or another.
Its sole object was to let in light on a few dark places ; to
show who Messrs A. B. & Co. really were. It eliminated
fictitious names, and disclosed real and sleeping partners ;
but it did nothing more. It made no suggestions and gave
no directions. And we have yet to learn that any wrong
could be done to any honest man by its disclosures, while
the benefits of which they would be productive are many
and obvious. We have no doubt that some measure
having the same objects in view will be eventually carried.
It is difficult to suppose that it should be objected to, ex¬
cept by those who desire to be in the dark because it affords
greater facilities for the carrying out of sinister projects.
When the joint debts of a firm are paid, and the property
duly distributed among the partners, the dissolution may be
said, in a general sense, to be accomplished. If any one of
the firm be guilty of a breach of duty in misapplying the
effects before the concern is finally wound up, the proper
course is, to apply to the Court of Chancery to appoint a
manager.
Within a reasonable time after the death of a partner, the
survivor or survivors must account to the representatives of
the deceased ; and if not willing to do so, a court of equity
will compel him or them. In taking partnership accounts
at the death of a partner, they must commence with the
last-stated account, or, if there be none such, with the
commencement of the partnership ; and they must end
with the state of the stock at the time of the partner’s
death, and the proceeds thereof until it be got in.
No notice is necessary to third parties of the death of a
partner; the partnership is dissolved, and all liabilities for
subsequent acts cease. The surviving parties are to be sued
alone for the partnership liabilities and obligations, for which
they are liable to the full extent. But they are not liable
for the separate debts of the deceased partner, unless, after
payment of the joint debts, they have a surplus of partner¬
ship effects in their hands.
Upon a dissolution by death, if the joint effects be in¬
sufficient to pay the partnership debts, the separate estate
of the deceased partner, if he have any, is liable for the
deficiency.
The statements now made may probably be sufficient to
give our readers a tolerably distinct notion ol the formation
of partnerships, and of the more important rights, duties,
liabilities, &c., arising out of such institutions. Those who
wish to go deeper into the subject may consult Collyer’s
Practical Treatise on the Taw of Partnership; Chitty s
Commercial Law, vol. hi., pp. 22-269 ; Woolrych On Com¬
mercial Law, pp. 298-317; Smyth On Mercantile Lav),
5th ed., pp. 19-56; &c.
II. Companies.—By a company, in commerce and. the
arts, is meant a copartnery or association of sundry (in Great
Britain, at least seven) persons united together for the pro¬
secution or carrying on of some lawful business or pursuit.
The capital or joint stock of a company is greater or less
according to circumstances; but whatever may be its
amount, it is uniformly raised by the issue of such a num¬
ber of shares of such magnitude as those interested may
think expedient; the individuals enrolled in the books of
the company as the holders of these shares being its partners.
Owing, however, to the latter being in most instances very
numerous, living at considerable distances from each other Partner-
and being commonly engaged in other pursuits, it is im- shiP-
practicable for them personally to conduct the company’s
affairs. These are, in consequence, entrusted to the
management of a board of directors, elected by, and
responsible to, the shareholders. The latter, in fact, can
do nothing individually. All their resolutions are taken in
common, and are carried into effect by the directors they
have chosen, and their officers. “In a private copartnery,”
says Adam Smith, “ no partner, without the consent of the
company, can transfer his share to another person, or intro¬
duce a new member into the company. Each member,
however, may, upon proper warning, withdraw from the
copartnery, and demand payment from them of his share of
the common stock. In a joint-stock company, on the con¬
trary, no member can demand payment of his share from
the company; but each member may, without their con¬
sent, transfer his share to another person, and thereby in¬
troduce a new member. The value of a share in a joint-
stock is always the price which it will bring in the market;
and this may be either greater or less, in any proportion,
than the sum which its owner stands credited for in the
stock of the company.” {Wealth of Nations, p. 333.)
According to the common law of England, all the part- Unlimited
ners in joint-stock companies, without regard to the magni- liability of I
tude of the shares held by them, are jointly and individu- partners at
ally liable, to the whole extent of their fortunes, for the j°™mon
debts of the companies. They may make arrangements
among themselves limiting their liabilities with respect to
each other; but unless established by authority competent
to set aside the general rule, the partners are all inde¬
finitely liable to the public. In some instances, however,
Parliament interfered to limit the responsibility of the share¬
holders in joint-stock companies to the amount of their
shares. And the act 6th Geo. IV., c. 96 empowered the
Crown to grant charters of association to companies, the
partners of which might be made liable to such an extent,
and subjected to such regulations, as might be deemed ex¬
pedient. And hence charters were sometimes granted for
the purpose merely of enabling companies to sue and be
sued in the courts of law, in the names of their office¬
bearers, without in anywise limiting or affecting the liability
of the shareholders to the public. Such limitation was not
to be implied by the grant of a charter, and was not held
to exist unless it were distinctly set forth.
It is much to be regretted that the liability of the share- Limited
holders has been still farther interfered with, and that, in
this respect, a very serious inroad has been made on the
old law of the country. The act of 1855 (the 18th and raljy intr0.
19th Viet., c. 133) authorizes the establishment of com- ducedin
panics for the carrying on of most descriptions of businesses 1855.
(banking and insurance were excepted), the liability of the
partners in which may be limited to the amount of their
shares. And hence it results, that in all cases in which these
have been fully paid up, the partners are relieved of
all responsibility, and are no longer liable for anything.
Though the bankruptcy of the companies to which they
belong may occasion the ruin of thousands, they cannot be
called upon to contribute a single farthing to the relief of
distresses that have most probably been caused by their
misconduct!
Well might the highest authority who can be appealed
to on such subjects charge this system with injustice ; for,
as he observes, “ in the case of the insolvency of a con¬
cern, it removes a portion of the loss, which must be
borne by some party, from those who have voluntarily en¬
gaged in the concern, who have had the means of watch¬
ing and controlling its progress, and who would have been
the sole participators in the benefits of its success, for
PARTNERSHIP.
317
Partner- the purpose of throwing it upon those who have had no
ship, means of insight into the state of the concern, no power
over its management, and no share in its advantages. The
commandite partners may have embarked a very small share
of their property in the concern, and must, therefore, be
very slightly injured by its failure; whilst those to whom
it is indebted may be very seriously injured, even to the
extent of ruin.”1
Defective Besides being vicious in principle, the law under which
state of the joint-stock companies are established is not a little con-
law in re- fuse(j an(i contradictory. Speaking generally, it may be
ir said to be embodied in the act of 1856, the 19th and
companies. 201,1 Viet., c. 47, as amended by the act of the following
year, the 20th and 21st Viet., c. 14. In the event, how¬
ever, of a company being formed which requires peculiar
or extraordinary powers,—such as the right to make roads
or canals, to take up streets that gas or w'ater pipes may be
laid, and such like proceedings,—recourse must still be
had to Parliament. But except in cases of this sort,
the acts referred to are sufficient. And all partnerships
or companies for ordinary industrial purposes, if they
consist of more than twenty partners, must be estab¬
lished or registered under these acts, and made con¬
formable to them; while, if they consist of seven and
under twenty partners, they may be so established or re¬
gistered; and in either case the liability of the partners may
be limited to the amount of their shares, or be made or
kept indefinite, as they may judge best. In like manner,
banking companies with more than ten partners must, and
those with seven and under ten may, be established, and
must be registered under the act 20th and 21st Viet., c. 49 ;
but, as already stated, the liability of the partners in such
companies was not limited by the acts referred to. In
addition to the clauses in the acts now mentioned as re¬
gulating the constitution of new and modifying that of old
companies, there are others which relate to their volun¬
tary and compulsory winding-up, their bankruptcy, &c.
And, whether it were intended by Parliament or not, the
effect of these statutes has been materially to modify the
former indefinite liability of the partners in ordinary joint-
stock companies. These associations have been, by a sort
of legislative hocus-pocus, metamorphosed into incorpora¬
tions ; so that their funds only are liable to be taken in
execution by their creditors. The rights of the latter
have, in truth, been sacrificed without compensation or
equivalent of any sort. * A creditor cannot now, as he
could have done three years ago, pounce upon any share¬
holder he pleased, and pursue him tor payment of his debt,
leaving to the shareholder to seek an indemnity from his
copartners. When the funds of a company, supposing
the liability of the partners to be unlimited, are insufficient
to make good its engagements, a petition is presented to
the Court of Chancery praying to have the company wound
up. On this being done, the creditors can take no farther
steps in the matter, but must wait the result. The court
may order calls to be made sufficient to pay the debts due
by the company. But this is always a very slow process;
and if the creditors get paid in the end, which may be
doubtful, it can only be after they have been kept out of
their money for lengthened periods, most probably for a
considerable number of years.2
We do not suppose that regulations having such conse¬
quences are likely to be permanent. Their nature and in¬
fluence were not declared, and were indeed very imperfectly
known, and that only to a few members, when they were
before Parliament; but the longer they are maintained, the
more mischievous will they be found to be. It is not going Partner-
too far to say, that the present state of the law in regard ship,
to the constitution, winding-up, and bankruptcy of joint-
stock companies is more than discreditable, that it is disgrace¬
ful to the country. Had its object been to introduce fraud
and recklessness into their constitution and management,
and delay and expense into the legal proceedings to which
they may give rise, it is doubtful whether it could have been
materially improved.
But supposing that joint-stock companies are properly Undertak-
organized, that the liability of the partners is unlimited, lngs which
and that creditors have every facility given them for getting may1)6 su<>
payment of their debts, still there are only certain varieties carried
of undertakings to which they can be advantageously ap- by joint-
plied. To insure a reasonable prospect of success to a com- stock com¬
pany, the undertaking should admit of its being carried on panics,
according to a regular systematic plan. The reason of this
is sufficiently obvious. The business of a great association
must be conducted by factors or agents ; and unless it be of
such a nature as to admit of their duties being clearly pointed
out and defined, the association would cease to have any
effectual control over them, and would be in great measure
at their mercy; and, however conscientious and anxious
to do their duty, they want the powerful motives to act
vigorously, prudently, and economically, by which private
individuals engaged in business are actuated. “ Like,”
says Adam Smith, “ the stewards of a rich man, they are apt
to consider attention to small matters as not for their mas¬
ter’s honour, and very easily give themselves a dispensa¬
tion from having it. Negligence and profusion, therefore,
must always prevail more or less in the management of the
affairs of such companies.” It also not unfrequently hap¬
pens that they suffer from the bad faith, as well as the
carelessness and extravagance, of their servants; the latter
having in many instances endeavoured to advance their
own interests at the expense of their employers. Hence
the different success of companies whose business may be
conducted according to a nearly uniform system, and those
whose business does not admit of being reduced to any re¬
gular plan, and where much must always be left to the
sagacity and enterprise of those employed. All purely
commercial companies trading upon a joint stock belong
to the latter class. Not one of them has ever been able
to withstand the competition of private adventurers; they
cannot subject the agents they employ to buy and sell
commodities to any effectual responsibility ; and from t is
circumstance, and the abuses that usually insinuate t em-
selves into every department of their management, no
such company has ever succeeded, unless when it has
obtained some exclusive privilege or been protected trom
competition. , . , v
And even with these advantages, such is the negligence,
profusion, and peculation inseparable from the management
of great commercial companies, that those that have had
the monopoly of the most advantageous branches of com¬
merce have rarely been able to keep out of debt, l o buy
in one market; to sell with profit in another; to watch over
the perpetually occurring variations in the prices, and m
the supply and demand of commodities; to suit with dex¬
terity and judgment the quantity and quality of goods to
the wants of each market; and to conduct each operation
in the best and cheapest manner, requires a degree of
unremitting vigilance and attention which it would be
visionary to expect from the directors or servants of a joint-
stock association. Hence it has happened, over and over
acrain that branches of commerce which proved ruinous
1 From a paper drawn up by Lord Overstone when the subject of limited liability was first mooted in 1837. Subsequent experience
has confirmed the accuracy of his lordship’s views.
2 \\ ordsworth’s New Joint-Stock Company Law of 1856 and 1857, passim.
318
PARTNERSHIP.
Partner¬
ship.
to companies have become exceedingly profitable when
carried on by individuals.
“ The spirit of monopolists,” to borrow the just and
forcible language of Gibbon, “ is narrow, lazy, and oppres¬
sive. Their work is more costly and less productive than
that of independent artists; and the new improvements so
eagerly grasped by the competition of freedom are ad¬
mitted with slow and sullen reluctance in those proud cor¬
porations, above the fear of a rival, and below the confes¬
sion of an error.”1 {Memoirs of his own Life, Miscellaneous
Works, i., p. 49, ed. 1814.)
But though in all respects unsuited for the prosecution
of ordinary industrial pursuits, whether belonging to agri¬
culture, manufactures, or commerce, there are, as stated
above, various undertakings for which joint-stock com¬
panies are peculiarly well fitted, and for which, indeed, they
appear to be indispensable. The railways and canals which
intersect most parts of the country; the docks and ware¬
houses in our great seaports; the gas-works and water¬
works with which almost all our towns, whether great or
small, are provided; and the greater portion of the public
buildings and institutions by which they are embellished and
the citizens amused and instructed, owe their existence to
joint-stock companies. They are works that could not have
been undertaken or completed except by the united capi¬
tal and energies of great numbers of individuals ; and being
for the most part conducted on fixed principles, and ac¬
cording to a uniform system, their management, though
not generally productive of much advantage to the share¬
holders, has, on the whole, been creditable to those con¬
cerned. It is not easy, indeed, to overrate the advantages
which this country has derived from joint-stock Associations,
when applied to proper objects, and conducted by men of
probity, skill, and caution.
The question in regard to the suitableness of joint-stock
companies to conduct the business of banking has been
frequently agitated, and is one of some difficulty. But as
we have already treated this question at considerable length
in the article Money, it is needless to resume the dis¬
cussion in this place. Here it will be sufficient to observe,
that much depends on the regulations under which joint-
stock banks may be placed. And supposing that the un¬
limited liability of the partners is maintained and easily
enforced, and that the bad faith or gross mismanagement
of the directors is visited with suitable penalties, it is pro¬
bable that the principal objections to joint-stock banks
would be either removed or greatly diminished.
Limited Partnerships with limited liability have been established
liability in in France, in the United States, and in other countries.
1< ranee, &c. jn j^si- cases they are subjected to peculiar provisions,
but otherwise they may be instituted in a great variety
of ways. Thus the responsibility of the partners may be
limited to the amount of the sums which they have respec¬
tively contributed to the common stock, or to some mul¬
tiple of these sums ; and the power of the partners to in¬
terfere in the management of the company may be very
variously regulated. The French call associations of this
sort, partnerships en commandite. They consist of partners, Partner
or commanditaires, who are responsible only for the amount shiP-
of their shares, and of zgerant, whose liability is unlimited,
and who, at the same time that he is independent of the part¬
ners, has the entire management of the concern.1 2 These
institutions have existed in France for a lengthened period,
but it is only of late years that they have been widely dif¬
fused. Latterly, however, their increase has been such
that it was stated in a speech made in the Corps Legislatif
in 1856, that more societies en commandite are now esta¬
blished in a single year than had formerly been established
in half a century or in ten years of the reign of Louis
Philippe. And this extraordinary increase of these so¬
cieties, and the abuses of all sorts with which vast num¬
bers of them have been infected, have attracted a large
share of the public attention to their constitution, and occa¬
sioned various efforts for its improvement. But it was
admitted on all hands that, down at least to 1856, the efforts
referred to had been wholly ineffectual for any good pur¬
pose, and that the public was very often defrauded by the fal¬
lacious representations that were put forth in regard to the
state of partnerships, by the declaration of dividends when,
in fact, there was nothing to divide, and all those fraudulent
devices of which we have recently had such extensive ex¬
perience. And such has been the influence of this state of
things, that, despite the many prejudices in favour of the
system, it is believed by some high authorities that its
entire suppression would be desirable.
In the meantime, however, a new law, which was the
subject of a great deal of discussion, was passed in 1856
(promulgated 23d July) for the regulation of partnerships
en commandite. But though it be in various respects an
improvement on the law which it superseded, there are no
good grounds for supposing that either this act, or that any
other possible act, will be able to prevent abuse. It limits
the amount of the shares according as the capital of the
society is above or below 200,000 francs; it directs that
one-fourth part of the capital shall be paid up. before the
business for which it has been formed can be undertaken ;
and it vests the entire conduct of the business, whatever it
may be, in the gerant, or manager chosen by the partners.
Inasmuch, however, as it has been found that MM. les
gerants have very frequently issued the most deceptive
statements in regard to the companies to which they are
attached, a committee of surveillance, consisting of five
members, is to be chosen in each partnership, who are to
verify les limes, la caisse, le portefeuille, et les valeurs de la
sociele ; and the gerant and the committee of surveillance
are to be subjected to very severe penalties if they know¬
ingly emit any false representations of the state of the
society. They must be sanguine indeed who suppose
that a clumsy contrivance of this sort can have any effect,
unless it be to multiply all sorts of abuses, to increase “/e
grand nomhre de mauvaises societes en commandite ” that
existed in France when it was established. And such, we
are assured, is the case. What wras bad in these societies
in 1856 is much worse in 1858.3
The French seem to suppose that by making the gerant
1 The Abbe Morellet has given, in a tract published in 1769, Examen de la Riponse de M. N., pp. 35-38), a list of 55 joint-stock com¬
panies for the prosecution of various branches of foreign trade, established in different parts of Europe since 1600, every one of which
had failed, though most of them had exclusive privileges. Most of those that have been established since the publication of the Abbd
Morellet’s tract have had a similar fate.
2 Exclusive of the societies or partnerships referred to above, there are in France Societes Anonymes, which are nearly identical with
our incorporated companies, and Societes en Nom Collectif. The latter are ordinary partnerships, in which the partners are jointly and
severally liable to the utmost extent for the debts of the partnership.
3 We borrow the following statements from a paper of the 20th March 1858 :—“ Companies en commandite are giving a good deal of
occupation to the courts of law here, just as directors of banks are doing in London, and the revelations that are made respecting them
are well worth the consideration of that very numerous portion of the English commercial world which is interested in French specu¬
lations. Within the last few days the Tribunal of Correctional Police has condemned one honest gentleman {gerant) of the name of Da-
monien to imprisonment and fine, for having swindled the unfortunate shareholders of the ( Compagnie Parisienne des Equipages de
Grande Remise ’ out of L.20,000 in cash and shares, having plunged them into debt to the amount of L.80,000, and having squandered
all their capital, amounting to L.320,000. To be sure, he had what he called an ‘ idea,’ which was to get up the company in shares; but
PARTNERSHIP.
Partner- indefinitely responsible to the public, and independent of
ship, the company, they will obtain at one and the same time the
advantages of individual enterprise and economy with the
limited liability of the partners. But while these results
are all but incompatible, the attempt to combine them
seldom fails to have others that are highly pernicious. A
manager who is really independent, and may conduct a
company as he pleases without let or hindrance on the part
of its members, is extremely apt to conduct it with a view
mainly to his own interests, how much soever they may be
at variance with those of his noniinal constituents. To
obviate this risk, the partners most commonly endeavour to
select a manager on whose concurrence with, or subser¬
vience to, their views they think they may depend. And
supposing them to succeed in this object, all the advan¬
tages said to be derived from the independence of the
manager are at an end, and he becomes a mere instrument
for carrying out the views of a clique of irresponsible
partners. Hence in very many ca,ses the gerants are in
reality mere men of straw, directed by the disguised but
well-understood hints or commands of the leaders of the
association, who, secure in their non-liability, are enabled
to gamble on a large scale, and to engage in any sort of
adventure.
Limited The limited liability companies established in this country
in are re^evec^ fi'om the foppery of legislation now adverted
unneces- to' Except in the license given them to contract an un¬
iary an l limited amount of debt, without being liable for more than
nischiev- a limited and, it may be, an inconsiderable amount of
ms. shares, they do not in other respects differ from ordinary
companies. They are managed by boards of directors,
whose duties are the same in their case as in that of others.
In countries like France, where the people are mostly in
narrow circumstances, and unaccustomed to, and afraid of,
speculative enterprises, there may perhaps be some ground
for permitting the formation of partnerships en commandite.
And if they were confined to undertakings that admitted of
being carried on according to a system of routine, such as
railways, canals, fire and life [insurances, gas-works, and so
forth, we do not know that they would be open to much
objection. But in a country like this, where capital is
abundant, and where all enterprises, however hazardous,
that promise anything like a reasonable return are eagerly
undertaken, all extraordinary inducements to make capital¬
ists come forward are unnecessary, and therefore objection¬
able. We admit, indeed, that in the case of companies of
the special class now alluded to, though nothing be gained,
there is no great hazard of much being lost by the share¬
holders being endowed with the privilege of limited liabi¬
lity. Such companies are not easily perverted to improper
purposes; and though the capital of the shareholders may
be unprofitably expended, yet, as it is most commonly laid
out on visible, permanent, and sometimes valuable works,
there is a fund on which the creditors, in the event of the
concern failing, may fall back. But modifying circum¬
stances of this sort have very rarely any place in companies
formed for conducting ordinary industrial or commercial
businesses. In their case the entire capital of the associa¬
tion may be lost or embezzled, without a farthing being left
to the creditors. And it is, moreover, if anything can be,
a contradiction and an absurdity to suppose that ordinary
industrial pursuits can be so well managed by great asso¬
ciations of any sort, whether the partners be indefinitely
responsible or not, as they will be by individuals or small
associations. The latter act on their own account, and reap
all the advantages of superior skill, attention, and economy,
at the same time that they are indefinitely responsible for
all the losses they may incur, and for all the mistakes into
which they may fall, whether in the contrivance or the
execution of their projects.
But though great public companies be unsuitable for the
conduct of all save routine businesses, the fair presumption,
or rather we should say, the certainty is, that those in
which the responsibility of the partners is limited, will be
much more unsuitable, and more productive of mischievous
results, than those in which there is no such limitation.
It must, indeed, be conceded, that despite the heavy re¬
sponsibility under which the partners in ordinary associa¬
tions or partnerships now act, they too often display an in¬
excusable degree of foolhardiness. But it is probable that
the recent experience of the ruin that may result from
placing too much confidence in directors will lead to an
improvement in this respect, and that the character and
conduct of these functionaries will be more carefully in¬
quired into. Independently, however, of this circumstance,
those who compare the number of associations which have
been ruined by the bad faith, incapacity, or mismanagement
of certain sets of directors, and the carelessness and mis¬
placed confidence of others, will, after all, find that they
bear but a small proportion to the total number of such
associations. Bankruptcy and insolvency, though treated
with infinitely too much indulgence, are still, speaking
generally, very serious calamities; and, except when the
partners have associated for sinister purposes, or when they
have an overweening confidence in their managers, they
seldom fail to inquire into the condition of the association,
and to adopt such measures as may be judged needful to
he made the shareholders recompense him for the ‘ idea ’ by a grant of paid-up shares to the amount of L.60,000. Part of the operations
of the company was to buy up small livery stables; and the gerant made purchases in his own name, and sold them to the company for
considerably more than he paid for them: in one case he made the company give him L.60,000 for what cost him L.36,000. The same
tribunal has also had to condemn the gerants of another company, called the ‘ Ligneenne,’ which professed to make paper from wood :
its nominal capital was L.160,000, and of that sum the gcrants took L.40,000 for a patent they brought into the concern, while they sold
for their own advantage, and for whatever they would fetch, L.40,000 worth of shares, and coolly embezzled all the money the s"^re*
holders paid in, and all that could be borrowed. In another case before a tribunal, it appeared that a brace of knowing gent emen a
entered into an arrangement with some'bankers to palm off on the public, for L.280,000 or L.320,000, some forests and mmes^in some
outlandish region on the banks of the Danube which they had purchased for L.40,000. In another case, it appeared t at t & gerants o
a mining company near Aix-la-Chapelle deliberately sold to their shareholders mines for L.100,000 which they were afterwards obliged
to admit were worth only L.60,000. It would be easy to cite other cases of recent occurrence in which revelations not less startling have
been made ; but these few will suffice to enlighten the public. It must not, however, be forgotten that a case more scan ^ous any
of them has yet to be brought before the courts—that of M. Frost, of Discount Bank notoriety, who has defrauded his shareholders of
many millions (of francs), and who has taken to flight. By the way, these shareholders had a general meeting a ew ays ago, an a er
a good deal of most vehement abuse of Prost and his ‘ Gonseil de Surveillance,^ they nominated a committee of five of their body to make
a searching investigation into their affairs, in order to ascertain precisely to what extent they have een ro e . ,. . .
“ Other companies en commandite there are which, though not falling or likely to fall into the an so jus ice, a^e su Jec e_ e
shareholders to grievous loss. I refer to those of which the shares during the speculating mania roug i enormous y ig premiums,
but which have now fallen to their true value. Thus the shares of the Messageries Imperiales once obtained 1510 francs ; they are now at
about 550 francs. The shares of the company ‘ des Petites Voitures ’ were, shortly after being is®ae_ > a “ ^ ° ^
had for 40 francs. The shares of the Union Company once sprung up almost at a bound from 395 francs to 500 francs; and 65 francs
is about the present quotation. People at one time were very glad to give 750 francs for shares in the Franco-Amertcatne Navigation
Company; now they can have as many as they like for 30 francs. The Amalgamated Gas Company shares at one time were done at
1120 francs ; yesterday they were at 720 francs. And the difference between the past and the present value of the shares of the famous
Credit Mobilier is known to everybody.”
319
Partner-
320
PARTNERSHIP.
Partner- improve its situation and prospects. This cautious sur-
v shl^ j ^illance is, of course, less manifested in great associations,
where ordinary individuals feel that their efforts are apt to
be of little avail; but even in their case it is always forcing
itself into notice, while in smaller associations, or those
comprising comparatively few partners, each being fully
alive to his responsibility, exerts himself to obviate extra¬
vagance or mismanagement in the conduct of the business,
and to make it a source of profit.
W ithout, however, insisting farther on these considera¬
tions, if parties will every now and then be careless of their
interests, and forget or decline to adopt the necessary pre¬
cautions to guard against abuse and loss when everything
they have is staked on the result, their carelessness, it is
obvious, will be immeasurably increased when they may
limit their liability at pleasure, and speculate without any
fear of the consequences. Can any one doubt that, under
such circumstances, wild projects of all sorts will be very
greatly increased; and that the number of those extensive
bankruptcies which are productive of so much misery will
be largely augmented? To suppose the contrary is to
suppose what is plainly contradictory. It is equivalent to
supposing that a man cares as much for L.1000 as for
L.5000 or L.10,000, or any greater sum ; or is as anxious
about a small part as about the whole of his fortune, how
large soever it may be.
«
Facilities It is obvious too, on the slightest consideration, that the
which facilities for organizing fraudulent and bubble companies
biUty giveshaVe been SreatIy extended by the new system. A few
for organ- half-employed attornies, half-pay officers, and men upon
izing town, with abundance of time on their hands and little
swindling money in their pockets, have no difficulty in establishing
associa- non-liability companies. They meet together and project
tions. an association for some purpose or other—it matters little
whether it be practicable or not—which they affirm will
yield a profit of some 10, 20, or 30 per cent, after all ex¬
penses are deducted. And having hatched their scheme
and issued their prospectus, they sally forth to canvass for
subscribers. They assure those to whom they address
themselves that the project is sure to succeed; that their
liability being limited, they run no risk; and as the shares
are only some L.20 or L.50, of which not more than a half
is required, they advise them as “ friends” not to miss an op¬
portunity, which is not likely to recur, of providing for their
families, making themselves independent, or adding to their
fortunes ! And, what with this sort of blarney, the puffs
and paragraphs of newspapers, and, above all, the legislative
guarantee against risk, they seldom fail of accomplishing
their object; that is, of becoming directors, secretaries, ma¬
nagers, and such like dignitaries. The reader must not sup¬
pose that this is an imaginary picture. It has been over
and over again realized to the very letter in the getting-up
of not a few of the non-liability companies that have been
set on foot in England during the last two or three years.
The affairs of some of them have already come before the
courts of law; and if we took these for samples of the
others, we should have to regard them as little better than
mere swindling engines. But it would not be fair to con¬
clude from the instances referred to that such was their
uniform character. A good many have no doubt been
honestly got up ; and the greater number of these being
for routine purposes, such as the supply of towns with
water and gas, it may be assumed that they will be fairly
conducted, and will succeed. But there are very many
of a totally different character. And it would be childish
to suppose that in any case the same consideration will be
given either to their formation in the first instance, or to
their future management, that wmuld be given were the
partners indefinitely liable. Hence, while the system ope¬
rates to the prejudice even of the best schemes, it holds
out every temptation to set on foot projects with the inten- Partner-
tion of deceiving and victimizing the public. slliP-
The contrivers of the new system tell us that, whatever Number of
it may really be, it is at all events popular with the public; non-liabil-
and in proof of this, they refer to the great number of com- % compa-
panies that have been already formed with limited liability.mes no
But no such reference was needed to enable any one to their be in
foresee that if a plan were set on foot to enable parties to required. °
contract debts without being bound to pay them, it would
be eagerly grasped at. Gambling-houses are at present
prohibited ; but if they were to be licensed, does any one
doubt that numbers of them would be opened in most con¬
siderable towns ? And we should be told that this was a con¬
clusive proof that the prohibition of gambling was disap¬
proved by the public, and that it required the healthy ex¬
citement furnished by the newly-opened places of enter¬
tainment ! But whatever may be the case with this or that
institution, one should think that the former facilities for
swindling might have sufficed, without giving them further
encouragement.
But however powerful the deleterious influence of the Limited
non-liability system (for such it is when the shares are paid liability
up) on the formation and conduct of companies, we are as- wil1 not in-
sured that it will be more than countervailed by the greater crea®e the
caution it will infuse into those who may deal with them. ^tloI|,of
The names and the number of shares held by the partners P 1 ’
in such associations, and the magnitude of their capital, or of
the “ fund” to which their creditors have to look, are all to be
made known ; so that those who transact business with them
will be really aware of what they have to depend upon. But
we take leave to say that they will have no such know¬
ledge. Suppose that a non-liability company had a capital
of L.50,000 or L. 100,000, and that it was wholly paid up
when it was established: it may have been greatly reduced,
or wholly lost, in the next or in any subsequent year; and
yet, as the public can know nothing, or nothing certain, of
its losses, and may, on the contrary, suppose it has been
successful, its credit may not be impaired, and it may go
on extending its business and adding to its obligations after
it is really insolvent. Ordinary partnerships, unless they
consist of parties of very questionable solvency or character,
have seldom any considerable difficulty in obtaining large
amounts of credit; and companies, it matters not of whom
composed, which are reported to have some L. 10,000,
L.20,000, or LAO,000 of paid-up capital, will be sure to
obtain loans to a much greater extent and with still greater
readiness, In their case we have a kind of authorized
guarantee for the possession of wealth. And this, it will
be said, precludes all room for distrust; so that, unless we
had access to very peculiar sources of information, it might
be not a little dangerous to question the solidity of such an
association ; though the whole thing may be a snare and
a delusion. I he assurance, whether official or otherwise,
that a certain amount of capital has been paid up, is really
not worth a farthing. But the chances are, that it will,
notwithstanding, serve its purpose with the million. It will
make that appear to them to be gold which may not even
be copper, and enable parties without a shilling to borrow
large sums, and to trade or speculate on the means of
others. In such cases the public is helpless. There is no¬
thing on which it can rely ; and when the imposture is dis¬
covered by the bursting of the bubble, no one is to be re¬
sponsible for anything.
However it may be accounted for, there is nothing that
is so lavishly and inconsiderately bestowed as credit. Fre¬
quently, indeed, it is rather thrust upon than given to in¬
dividuals and firms. And it would be ludicrous to suppose
that this is a case in which we can place any dependence
on the caution of the public. The only real security is in
PARTNERSHIP.
Partner- the discretion, good sense, and, more than all, in the un¬
ship. limited liability of the partners. They know, or may know,
what they are w’orth, and what they are about, which no
one else can know. And in the vast majority of cases
they farther know that they will be bankrupts and beggars
unless they act prudently and circumspectly. Hence our
late legislation is precisely the reverse of what it ought to
have been. Instead of diminishing, we should have in¬
creased the responsibility of partners, by abstaining from all
interference with their indefinite liability, and giving addi¬
tional stringency to the bankruptcy laws.
That increased caution on the part of the public which
it is said will be a result of the new system is really, there¬
fore, no better than moonshine. It can have no practical
influence. The only security which in such matters is
worth a pinch of snuff consists in the responsibility of
partners. It is not to those who deal with this or that
house, but to the houses themselves—to the guarantees
under which they have been placed—that we must look for
protection against foolhardiness and fraud.
It may therefore be reasonably concluded, that in or¬
dinary businesses,—that is, in all businesses for carrying on
branches of agriculture, manufacture, or trade,—partnerships
with limited liabilities can be neither more nor less than
unmixed nuisances. If honestly conducted, they must fail
in their competition with private parties; and if otherwise,
they will only add to the means, which were already suffi¬
ciently extensive, of wasting capital and fleecing the
public.
In the scheme laid down by Providence for the govern¬
ment of the world there is no shifting or narrowing of re¬
sponsibilities, every man being personally answerable for all
his actions. But the advocates of limited liability proclaim
in their superior wisdom that the scheme of Providence
may be advantageously modified, and that debts and obli¬
gations may be contracted which the debtors, though they
have the means, shall not be bound to discharge. Borrow,
say they, as much as you please, and pay as little as you
like,—the less, it would seem, the better ! And can it be
doubted that the adventurous, the needy, the unprincipled,
and the desperate, will be eager to avail themselves of such
extraordinary privileges? The reckless speculation, and
the consequent bankruptcy and ruin, that have on former
occasions overspread the kingdom have been trifling com¬
pared with the revulsions which may be anticipated, should
the new system be allowed to spread its roots and scatter
its seeds on all sides. Even the soberest individuals may
be tempted to embark in hazardous projects; for, by limit¬
ing the risk, they in great measure secure themselve against
loss by failure, at the same time that they reap all the ad¬
vantages of success. Were Parliament to set about devis¬
ing means for the encouragement of speculation, over-trad¬
ing, and swindling, what better could it do than to carry
out the non-liability system ?
enalties But we shall perhaps be told that these results, though
nd loth^ aPParently probable, cannot happen, inasmuch as Parliament
ict., cap. ^as Prov'^edj by the Joint-stock Companies Act, the 19th
7, no secu- and 20th Viet., chap. 47, sect. 14, that in the event of the
ityagainst directors of a company declaring and paying a dividend
raud. when the company is known by them to be insolvent,
they are to repay the same out of their own pockets.1 Per¬
haps the reader may be inclined to think that those who are
disposed to trust to a security of this sort are rather easily
satisfied. A body of directors who would, under any cir¬
cumstances, declare a dividend when they knew that the
concern over which they presided was bankrupt, will not be
kept in the right path by the threat now referred to. The de¬
claration of dividends when there is nothing to divide is not
the way in which dishonest directors would be most likely 1
to defraud their constituents and the public. They would
make loans to each other, or if that be prohibited or apt
to excite suspicions, they may do the same thing indirectly
by the intervention of third parties. The capital and credit
of the institution may be perverted, abused, and dissipated
in a thousand ways before the circumstance becomes known
to the public. And when the courts of law begin to inquire
into the matter, they may probably find that the directors,
like those of the Eastern Bank of London, have gone to
enjoy themselves and repair their exhausted energies on
the classic shores of the Mediterranean.
It is the merest delusion to suppose that anything, save
the unlimited liability of the shareholders, can be made
to afford even the semblance of an efficient check over the
conduct of directors. And they no doubt may, and fre¬
quently do, fail to exercise that degree of surveillance over
them which is as necessary for their own security as for that
of the public. But if so, the fault is theirs, and there is
no ground or reason why they should be permitted to escape
from its consequences. The public have neither right nor
power to interfere in the matter. Directors are the ser¬
vants of shareholders, and they must answer, and, if needful,
suffer, for their proceedings.
321
Partner¬
ship.
Some who are friendly to the principle of limited Increase of
liability, but who are at the same time aware of the liability
abuses to which it cannot fail to lead if the liability be Wlt^_0ut,
limited to the mere amount of the shares, say that they
would not object to its increase. It has, in consequence,
been proposed to fix the liability at double or treble the
amount of the shares ; so that when a limited company failed,
the subscribed capital of which had been fully paid up, the
partners would not, as is now the case, be relieved of all
responsibility, but would be obliged to make a further pay¬
ment, if that were required, equal to the amount of their
shares, or to double that amount, as might be decided upon.
And this would undoubtedly be a very great improvement
upon the existing system ; for, while it would raise the cha¬
racter of the partners in limited associations, and make them
more careful in regard to those they might choose for direct¬
ors, and more disposed to watch their proceedings, it would
make them contribute to the entire or partial relief of those
whom they might otherwise have involved in total ruin.
If, therefore, the system is to be continued, we should
strongly recommend that the liability of the partners should
be raised to at least double the amount of their shares.
This would add to its solidity, and divest it of some of its
worst features.
But, after all, this is only paltering with or mitigating an
evil which should be cut up by the roots. Eveiy sound
principle is outraged when a man who has the means or
pay in o- his just debts does not pay them. Whether they
are contracted by himself directly, or in company with
others, is of no importance. He is in either case bound to
pay them ; and to pass laws to protect him m declining to
pay them is to give a legislative sanction to dishonesty and
villany.
It is alleged, however, that these representations are The prohi-
fallacious ; that it is a manifest encroachment on the great hition of
principle of the freedom of industry to hinder individuals
from engaging in partnerships under such conditions as they impro-
may choose to lay down £ that in the event of these con- pgj. inter-
ditions being publicly declared, and everybody made aware ference
   ——  with the
1 This is the statement in the body of the act; but in the “ Regulations for the Management of Companies” attached to it we are told freedom of
that “ no dividend shall be payable, except out of the profits arising from the business of the company.” We of course do not presume industry,
to decide whether this or the other statement be the more correct; but their contradictory nature affords a curious illustration of the slo-
venly, slipshod style in which the most important statutes are often compiled.
VOL. XVII. 2 S
322
PARTNERSHIP.
Partner- of what they are, they cannot be justly objected to; for as
ship. it is optional to deal or not deal with the association, those
s—who dislike the conditions upon which it is established may
keep aloof from it. But sophistry of this sort is too trans¬
parent to deceive any one, and might, in truth, be employed
to excuse almost any sort of jugglery or delusion. The
question is not whether limited liability be consistent with
this or that abstract principle, but what are its practical re¬
sults—what its probable influence over that public well¬
being, to promote which either is or should be the object of
all legislation ? It is with its operation in this respect,
and with it only, that we have to deal. Publicans and car¬
riers have made frequent attempts to limit or reduce their
heavy responsibilities to those who make use of their ser¬
vices. But the great principle of public utility stood in the
way of their claims ; and they have not yet succeeded, and
it is to be hoped never will succeed, in effecting their object;
though ten times more may be said in favour of their ex¬
emption from indefinite liability than can be said in favour
of the exemption of those engaged in ordinary businesses.
If, indeed, there be one principle which more than another
conduces to the public advantage, and may be said to con¬
stitute the foundation of all dealings between man and
man, it is the obligation to discharge one’s debts and obliga¬
tions. And when such is the case, it is the bounden duty
of government strictly to enforce the rule of unlimited lia¬
bility, unless in cases, if such there be, when it can be clearly
made out that the public interests will be better promoted
by its relaxation or suspension. If a case of this sort be
satisfactorily established, then undoubtedly the rule referred
to should be waived in as far as it is concerned. But we en¬
tirely deny that, when tried by this test, it either has been or
can be shown that partnerships en commandite are publicly
advantageous. On the contrary, we have seen that they
are in the last degree injurious, and that it is not possible
they should be extensively introduced without giving an
immense stimulus to fraud and reckless speculation.
In dealing with ordinary firms or associations, people
trust, or believe they may trust, to the reputation for skill
and integrity, and to the presumed wealth, of one or more
of the partners. Such presumptions are not, indeed, always
to be depended upon. In these, as in other matters, people
may be misled by appearances, and may place an unmerited
degree of confidence in earnest though insincere profes¬
sions and promises. But howr deceptive soever, the pre¬
sumptions or indications referred to afford not merely the
best, but the only guarantees that can really be had for
upright conduct. Most people engaged in business, as
hitherto carried on, are impressed with the well-founded
conviction that their interests will be best promoted by
their preserving an unblemished reputation ; and when
they act under the heaviest responsibility, the chances are
ten to one that they will behave discreetly and honourably.
But we have no such guarantees for the conduct of the
partners of a society en commandite. Character is in their
case of little, or rather of no consequence. Instead of
being responsible, they are all, or may be all, but irrespon¬
sible. A, who is worth L.50,000 or L.100,000, has not
more, perhaps, than some L.1000 or L.2000 vested in the
society. Whether he lose or gain by such investment is a
matter about which he probably cares very little. Most
likely he has joined the association that he might engage,
without fear or apprehension, in the boldest speculations.
But whether this be or be not his object, it is an insult to
common sense to suppose that associations of this description
will be as carefully and skilfully conducted as those in which
the partners are indefinitely liable for their proceedings.
It has been attempted to apologize for the non-liability
system by referring to the usury laws, which permit loans
to be made at any rate of interest and under a great variety
of conditions. That, however, has evidently no real bear¬
ing on the matter. If A lend B a sum at 5, 10, or 15 per
cent., it is the affair of the parties, and of none else. They
enter into the transaction with a full knowledge of the cir¬
cumstances, and believe it will be for their mutual advan¬
tage. There is, however, no limitation of risk either on
the one side or the other. The business in which the loan
is to be employed may not succeed, and the borrower may
become bankrupt; but if so, his entire effects will be
liable to the uttermost farthing for this and his other debts.
He therefore has every motive to manage his business so
that he may avert a catastrophe that would bring with it his
inevitable ruin. But such would not be the case were B’s
liability limited ; and it would be foolish to expect to have
the conduct suited to one set of circumstances under a
totally different set.
It would be the easiest thing imaginable, were it at all Influence
necessary, to corroborate the previous statements by illus- ^f.!10ri?lia'
trations drawn from the United States, where the principle tlie United
of limited liability has been long established. But these states,
must be familiar to almost all our readers. Everybody
knows that, notwithstanding the peculiarly favourable cir¬
cumstances under which the Americans are placed, from
their free institutions, their enterprising character, the low¬
ness of their public burdens, and the boundless extent of
their fertile and unoccupied lands, bankruptcy is ten times
more prevalent among them than in England. The revul¬
sions by which we are sometimes visited, though suffi¬
ciently severe, are gentle in the extreme compared with
those that periodically devastate the United States. In
various instances, one of which is of very recent occurrence,
every banking company in the Union has stopped payment,
while great numbers have been totally destroyed. And it
is the same with associations of all sorts. A spirit of over¬
trading, or a determination, at all hazards, to “ go a-head,”
is universally prevalent, and bears there, as here, its legiti¬
mate harvest of bankruptcy and disaster. So much so,
indeed, is this the case, and such and so violent are the
convulsions referred to, that it is no exaggeration to affirm
that monied fortunes and personal property are more secure
in Austria and Russia than in the United States. The
national character has suffered through this miserable sys¬
tem. Those repudiations which have so justly damaged
the credit of the Americans originated in their attempting
to limit their responsibilities in their public as well as in
their private capacity. And it could hardly, indeed, be
expected that people who may contract debts to their
neighbours which they are not bound to pay should be dis¬
posed to make an exception in the case of their foreign
creditors.
We sometimes hear the rather unwarrantable assertion, Limited
that, unless their liability be limited, neither the poorer nor Lability ^
the richer classes are generally disposed to engage in ex-
tensive partnerships ! But if it really had the effect of as wFeii as
tempting the poorer classes to engage in them, that alone to the rich-
would be a very sufficient reason why all associations with er classes,
limited liability should be suppressed. The condition of
these classes will never be improved by withdrawing their
attention from the businesses to which they have been bred,
and in which they are engaged, to fix it on joint-stock
adventures. The spirit of gambling and speculation is
already quite enough diffused, without seeking to spread
its baneful influence among the lower classes. Nothing
should be done which it is possible to avoid to divert their
attention from the pursuits of sober persevei'ing industry.
Their surplus earnings may be far more beneficially invested
in savings-banks, in loans, and in contributions to friendly
societies, than in joint-stock adventures.
And while, on the one hand, it would be very wrong to
tempt by immunities of any sort the labouring classes to
PAS
Pascal, engage in such schemes, it is, on the other, quite superfluous
v ^ > in the case of their richer brethren. They are already much
too prone to embark in them. Even in those businesses,
the hazard of which is extreme, there is no good reason for
exempting those by whom they are carried on from the
fullest responsibility. If the demand for gunpowder were
doubled, the supply would very shortly be increased in an
equal degree. Wherever there is extra risk it is compen¬
sated by extra profits; and, practically, it is not found that
the cost of gunpowder, or of any like article, is in any
degree increased from capitalists being disinclined to face
the hazard of its production.
Cautious men are content with moderate profits, and
encounter only moderate risks; while those who are san¬
guine and adventurous, whether they be rich or poor,
eagerly grasp at the highest profits, and to realize them do
not hesitate to run the greatest hazards. Now, there is
nothing surely to object to or amend in this. And yet the
whole doctrine of limited responsibility proceeds on the
contrary assumption—on the principle, if we may so call it,
that profit and risk shall be divorced from each other ; that
speculators may undertake adventures, having, on the one
hand, the chance of making unlimited profits if they turn
out well, and on the other, of escaping, though they may
ruin others, with a comparatively trifling loss if they turn
out ill. In that peculiar class of cases in which it vrould
seem at the first blush of the matter that limited responsi¬
bility would be least objectionable, it will be found to be
most pernicious; for it will give an unnatural stimulus to
what certainly does not require it, that is, to hazardous
enterprises and desperate adventures.
On the whole, nothing but mischief can be legitimately
anticipated from the establishment of partnerships with
limited liability, or en commandite. It was not by the aid
of the principles which they involve, by shirking responsi¬
bility, and evading the risks inseparable from all undertak¬
ings, that we have attained to our pre-eminence in character,
in wealth, and in manufacturing and commercial industry.
But are we well assured that the adoption of a contrary
system will not mark the sera of our decline ?
\pplica- We have already seen that the limited liability system
ion of was not applied in the outset to the business of banking,
imited lia- But this exemption has been of short continuance, a law
nhty to having been passed in the course of the present year
* n inS- (1858) authorizing banking companies, not issuing notes,
to be established with limited liability. It was successfully
alleged in defence of this measure that there should be no
exception to the general rule; and that Parliament having
introduced the system of limited liability into other busi¬
nesses, was bound, in consistency, to extend it to banking.
But if this sort of reasoning is to have any influence in
such matters, it would not justify merely, but require, that
the system should be extended to all companies, however
small the number of partners, and even to all individuals.
PAS 323
Why is a privilege to be conceded to ten or twelve persons, Pascal-
and denied to six, to four, or to one ? Where, may we ‘v'--''
ask, is the justice of such a proceeding ? Why should not
Mr A. be permitted to limit his liability; to declare,
d priori, that whatever debts he may contract, he shall be
liable only to the extent of some L.500 or L.1000; and
that it is to this “fund,” and not to his estates, his factories,
or his consols, that his creditors have exclusively to look ?
But everybody knows, or ought to know, that there is
something more than mere logical etiquette to be attended
to in public affairs. When a law has been enacted which
affects certain businesses or certain individuals, the question,
whether it should be extended to others, depends in no
degree on hypothetical notions about the symmetry of legis¬
lation, but on the fact whether it is a beneficial law, and
on its being fitted to promote the interests of those to
whom it is proposed to extend its operation. When the
cook has ascertained that a particular sauce is good for the
goose, she may then, but not till then, think of applying it
to the gander. But limited liability is not a sauce which
is suitable for anything. It has not a single good quality to
recommend it; and instead of being extended, the sphere
of its operation should be contracted as much as possible.
In so far, however, as banks are concerned, we incline to
think that its extension to them will not have much in¬
fluence either one way or other; for we cannot believe it
possible, were an ordinary bank to limit its liability, that
half-a-dozen individuals would be found to entrust their
money to its keeping. If they did, they would well de¬
serve to meet the fate which would be all but certain to
await them—that is, to lose their entire deposits. If it
attempted, as it would probably do, to allure loans by
the offer of a comparatively high rate of interest, that
would make its ruin more certain and immediate; and is
a bait that would be swallowed by those only whose igno¬
rance was even greater than their voracity. We there¬
fore have little doubt that the device of limited liability
will be rejected by all banking companies that have any
pretensions to character, or that have any wish to possess
any portion of the public confidence. It is not by vicious
and inapplicable measures of this sort that joint-stock bank¬
ing will be improved. What is wanted in it is a return to
the old law, which enabled the creditors of insolvent banks
to seek redress by execution against such stockholders as
they pleased to prosecute; to evince a determination to
make all directors who act either dishonestly or with gross
carelessness liable for the consequences; and to facilitate
the proceedings in bankruptcy. This is all that is required
to be done in respect of these matters in as far as banks
are concerned. And a return to the old system of unlimited
liability, except in special routine cases, which may be left
to the decision of the Board of I rade, with the hke eave
to proceed against individuals, and the publication of t leir
names, would obviate the principal objections to the present
law in as far as it affects joint-stock companies. (J. R. m.)
PASCAL, Blaise,1 one of the brightest names in the
annals, not only of France, but of the human race, was born
at Clermont in Auvergne, in the year 1623. He was not
forty when he died. But the achievements which he
crowded into his brief span of life, and which have made
his name famous to all generations, may well make the
world say with Corneille, “ A peine a-F il vecu; quel nom
il a laisse?” From the earliest childhood Pascal exhibited
most precocious proofs of inventive genius, especially in the
department of mathematics. If we may believe a univer¬
sally-received tradition, he had been purposely kept in
ignorance of geometry, lest his propensity in that direction
should interfere with the prosecution of other branches of
knowledge. But in vain : his self-prompted genius, so it
is said, discovered for itself the elementary truths of the
forbidden science; and at twelve years of age he was sur¬
prised by his father in the act of demonstrating on the pave¬
ment of an old hall where he used to play, and with the
i This biographical sketch is chiefly taken from the essay on the Life, Genius, and Writings of Pascal, inserted in the
for January 1847. Some few additional paragraphs have been inserted, and the matter in general has been distributed d ffere y,
■well as abridged. For a fuller discussion of several important questions than would be possible in the limits of an article like the p
sent, the reader is referred to the essay above mentioned.
324 • PASCAL.
Pascal, help of a rude diagram, traced by a piece of charcoal, a
proposition which corresponded to the thirty-second of the
first book of Euclid. At the age of sixteen he composed
a little tractate on the conic sections, which provoked the
incredulity and admiration of Descartes. At nineteen, he
invented his celebrated arithmetical machine ; at the age of
six-and-twenty, he had composed the greater part of his
mathematical works, and made those brilliant experiments
in hydrostatics and pneumatics which have associated his
name with those of Torricelli and Boyle, and stamped him
as one of the first philosophers of his age.
Strange to say, he then suddenly renounced the splendid
career to which his genius so unequivocally invited him,
and abandoned himself to totally different studies. In part
this was attributable .to the strong religious impulse given
to his character at this period, — rendered deeper no
doubt by early experience in the school of affliction; for
from the age of eighteen he was a perpetual sufferer, and
in 1647, when only in his twenty-fourth year, was visited by
a slight attack of paralysis. His ill health seems mainly
to have been occasioned by his devotion to study ; his mind,
in fact, consumed his body. The impulse, however, which
finally drove him from the world, and turned him into a re¬
ligious recluse, seems to have been aided by incidents which
occurred a few years later. It is said that a hopeless at¬
tachment (so M. Faugere plausibly conjectures) to the sister
of his accomplished friend and patron the Due de Roannes,
but which Pascal, from timidity, never avowed to the object
of it, increased his constitutional melancholy ; but however
this may be, a far deeper effect was produced by an escape
from a frightful death in the year 1654. He was in a
coach and four with some friends, and, in crossing the Seine
over abridge, part of the parapet of which was thrown down,
the leaders took fright and leaped into the water; their
weight as they fell happily broke the traces, and left the
carriage free. But Pascal’s nervous system received a
shock which it seems never to have recovered ; and he was
often haunted with the thought that on the left side of
him—that on which the danger threatened on this occa¬
sion—there yawned a deep chasm; nor could he, it is said,
sit at ease unless fortified on that side by the sensation of
some solid obstacle, though, strange to say, an empty chair
would answer the purpose.
So complete was his abandonment of science that he
never returned to it but on one memorable occasion, and
then only for a short time,—namely, when he solved the
remarkable problems relating to the Cycloid. The accounts
which have been transmitted to us by his sister of the
manner in which these investigations were suggested and
completed—accounts which are authenticated by a letter
of his own to Fermat—strongly impress us with the vigour
and brilliancy of his genius. We are assured that after
long abandonment of the mathematics, his attention was
directed to the curve in question by a casual train of
thought suggested in one of the many nights which pain
made sleepless. His inventive mind rapidly pursued the
subject till he reached the brilliant results recorded in
his own writings ; and in the brief space of eight days these
difficult investigations were completed. Partly in com¬
pliance with the fashion of the age, and partly from the
solicitation of his friend the Due de Roannes, he con¬
cealed for a time the results at which he had arrived, and
offered the problems for solution to all the mathematicians
of Europe, with a first and second prize to successful can¬
didates. If no solution were offered in three months, Pascal
promised to publish his own. Several were forwarded, but
as none, in the estimation of the judges, completely ful¬
filled the conditions of the challenge, Pascal redeemed his
pledge, under the name of Amos Dettonville, an anagram
of Louis de Montalte, the famous pseudonym under which
the Provincial Letters had appeared. This was in 1658-9,
when he was thirty-six years of age. With this brief ex- Pascal,
ception, then, and which occurs quite as a parenthesis
in his history, Pascal practically abandoned science from
the age of twenty-six; yet he did not at once become
a religious recluse. For some years he lived a cheerful,
sometimes even a gay, though never a dissipated life, in
Paris, in the centre of literary and polite society, loved and
admired by a wide circle of friends, and especially by the
Due de Roannes. At length, however, under the in¬
fluence of the causes before specified, his indifference to the
world—perhaps we might say his disgust for it—so far in¬
creased that he sighed for solitude. This he sought and
found at Port-Royal, already endeared to him as the home
of his sister Jacqueline.
Here he produced his immortal Provincial Letters; and,
when death cut short his brief career, was meditating an
extensive work on the fundamental principles of religion,
especially on the existence of God and the evidences of
Christianity. For its completion he asked ten years of
health and leisure ! An outline of the work had been some¬
times (and on one occasion somewhat fully) given to his
friends in conversation, but no part of it was ever com¬
pleted. Nothing was found after his death but detached
Thoughts (interspersed with some on other subjects) on tbe
principal topics appropriate to such a work. They were
the stones of which the building was to have consisted,
many of them unhewn, and some few such as the builder,
had he lived, would no doubt have laid aside. The form in
which the Thoughts were put together comported but too
well with their fragmentary character. It appears that
Pascal did not even use a common-place book ; but when,
after profound meditation, any thought struck him as worth
recording, he hastily noted it on any scrap of paper that
came to hand, often on the backs of old letters; these he
strung together on a file, or tied up in bundles, and left
them till better health and untroubled leisure should permit
him to evoke a new creation out of this chaos. It is a
wonder, therefore, that the Pensees of Pascal -have come
down to us at all. Never, surely, was so precious a freight
committed to so crazy a bark. But we shall return to this
subject when we come to criticize the writings of Pascal, for
the literary history of the Pensees is not a little curious. The
latter years of his life were spent in almost incessant suffering,
not a little increased by the maceration and ascetic rigour
to which he subjected a body but little adapted originally to
sustain such severe discipline. After lingering in a long
decay, through the clouds of which, however, his genius
shone with undiminished radiance, even to its setting, he
died at Port-Royal in 1662, at the early age of thirty-nine.
We now proceed to make a few observations on the
genius and character of this great man. His was one of
the rare minds, apparently adapted almost in equal measure
to the successful pursuit of the most diverse departments
of philosophy and science, of mathematics and physics, of
metaphysics and criticism. Many have transcended him in
knowledge; for Pascal followed the predominant law of all
very inventive minds,—he was fonder of thought than of
books, of meditation than of acquisition. Perhaps, also, the
character of Pascal’s genius was less excursive than that of
some other men. But in inventiveness few have been his
equals; few even in mathematics, while in moral science, the
science of man, we know of nothing out of Bacon and
Shakspeare that will bear comparison in depth, subtlety,
and comprehensiveness with some of the Thoughts of Pas¬
cal. But, in another characteristic of true genius, and
which, for want of another name, we must call felicity,
scarcely any one can, in the full import of the term, be
compared with him. Endowed with originality the most
active and various, all that he did was with grace. Full of
depth, subtlety, brilliancy, both his thoughts, and the man-
PASCAL.
325
Pascal, ner in which he expresses them, are also full of beauty.
His just image is that of the youthful athlete of Greece, in
whom was seen the perfection of physical beauty and phy¬
sical strength,—in whom every muscle was developed with¬
in the just limits calculated to secure a symmetrical de¬
velopment of all, the largest possible amount of power and
flexibility in union.
In all the manifestations of Pascal’s mind this rare felicity
is exuberantly displayed: in the happy methods by which
he lighted on truth and pursued scientific discovery ; in the
selection and arrangement of topics in all his compositions;
in the peculiar delicacy of his wit, so strongly contrasted
with all the ordinary exhibitions of that quality with which
his age was familiar; and, above all, in that indescribable
elegance of expression which uniformly characterizes his
finished efforts, and often his most negligent utterances,
and which even time can do nothing to impair.
In his scientific writings, the traces of this felicity may be
discerned almost equally in the matter and the form. In
relation to the first, there is probably a little illusion
practised upon us. In reading his uniformly elegant and
perspicuous exposition of his own scientific discoveries, we
are apt to underrate the toil and intellectual struggles by
which he achieved them. We know that they were, and
must have been, attended with much of both,—nay, that his
shattered health was the penalty of the intensity of his
studies. Still, it is hardly possible to read his expositions
without having the impression that his discoveries re¬
sembled a species of inspiration, and that his mind fol¬
lowed out the first germinant thought to its ultimate con¬
sequences with more ease and rapidity than is usually the
case. One can scarcely imagine it necessary for him to
have undergone the frightful toils of Kepler, had he been
led into the same track of discoveries; and, in fact, what¬
ever illusion his ease and elegance of manner may produce,
we know that, comparatively speaking, his achievements were
rapidly completed. It was so with the problems on the
cycloid; it was so with his discoveries in pneumatics and
hydrostatics. In fact, though his Traite de VEquilibre des
Liqueurs, and the one De la Pesanteur de VAir, were not
composed till 1653, they seem to have been only another
form of the treatise he promised in his Nouvelles Expe¬
riences Touchant le Vide, published in 1647, and of which
that tract was avowedly an abridgment. Indeed, as already
said, Pascal had nearly quitted these investigations before
the completion of his twenty-sixth year.
There was no scientific subject which Pascal touched in
which the felicity of his genius, the promptitude and bril¬
liancy of his mind, did not shine forth. We see these quali¬
ties eminently displayed in his Traite du Triangle Arith-
metique, in the invention and construction of his arith¬
metical machine, in the mode of solving the problems respect¬
ing the cycloid,—in which, while employing Cavalieri’s
Method of Indivisibles, he proposes to remove the principal
objection which had been made to it, by conceptions which
bring him within a step of the Fluxions of Newton and
the Calculus of Leibnitz. The same qualities of mind are
eminently displayed in the manner in which he establishes
the hydrostatic paradox, and generally in the experiments
detailed in the Nouvelles Experiences, and the other con¬
nected pieces,—most of all in the celebrated crucial experi¬
ment on the Puy-de-D6me, by which he decided the cause
of the suspension of the mercury in the barometrical tube.
As there are few things recorded in the history of science
more happily ingenious than the conception of this experi¬
ment, so never was there anything more pleasantly naive
than the manner in which he proposes it in his letter to Pascal.
M. Perier. “ You doubtless see,” says he, “ that this ex- sy-*.
periment is decisive of the question ; and that if it happen
that the mercury shall stand lower at the top than at the
bottom of the mountain (as I have many reasons for think¬
ing, although all those who have meditated on this subject
are of a contrary opinion), it will necessarily follow that the
weight and pressure of the air are the sole cause of this
suspension of the mercury, and not the horror of a vacuum ;
since it is very certain that there is much more air to press
at the base than on the summit of the mountain; while,
on the other hand, we surely cannot say that nature abhors
a vacuum more at the bottom of a mountain than on the
top of it.”1
The usual felicity of his style is seen throughout his
philosophical as well as his other works. They possess the
highest merit which can belong to scientific composition.
It is true that, in his purely mathematical writings, partly
from the defective notation of his age, itself a result of the
want of that higher calculus, the invention of which was
reserved for Newton and Leibnitz, he is often compelled
to adopt a more prolix style of demonstration than would
have been subsequently necessary; but even here, and
still more in all the fragments which relate to natural
philosophy, his style is in striking contrast with the clumsy
expression of the generality of contemporary writers. His
Fragments abound in that perspicuous elegance which the
French denominate by the expressive word nettete. The
arrangement of thought and turn of expression are alike
beautiful. Probably no one ever knew so well when to
stay his hand.
But it is, of course, in his writings on moral and critical
subjects that this felicity may be chiefly expected to ap¬
pear ; and here we may well say, in the eloquent language of
M. Faugere, it is a “ style grand sans exageration, partout
rempli d’emotion et contenu; vif sans turbulence, per¬
sonnel sans pedanterie et sans amour propre, superbe et
modeste, tout ensembleor, as he elsewhere expresses it,
“ tellement identifie avee Tame de 1’ecrivain qu’il n’est que
la pensee elle meme, paree de sa chaste nudite comme
une statue antique.” By the confession of the first trench
critics, the Lettres Provinciales did more than any other
composition to fix the French language. On this point
the suffrages of all the most competent judges of Voltaire
and Bossuet, D’Alembert and Condorcet are unanimous.
“ Not a single word occurs,” says the first, “ partaking of
that vicissitude to which living languages are so subject.
Here, then, we may fix the epoch when our Janguage may
be said to have assumed a settled form.’ Ihe French
language,” says D’Alembert, “ was very far from being
formed, as we may judge by the greater part of the works
published at that time, and of which it is impossible to
endure the reading. In the Provincial Letters there is
not a single word that has become obsolete ; and that book,
though written above a century ago, seems as if it had
been written but yesterday.” And as these Letters weie
the first models of French prose, so they still remam the
objects of unqualified admiration. The writings of Pascal
have indeed a paradoxical destiny, flourishing in immor¬
tal youth, all that time can do is to superadd to the charms
of perpetual beauty the veneration which belongs to age.
His style cannot grow old. . , ,
When we reflect on the condition of the language
when he appeared, this is truly wonderful. It was but
partially reclaimed from barbarism ; it was still an imperfect
instrument of genius. He had no adequate models,—he
, ■ f nut it is certain that Pascal, who was the very soul of honour, re-
1 Descartes claimed the suggestion of this brilliant experiment, o ^ ^ verified Torricelli’s, and only waited the opportu-
peatedly declares that he had determined to make it from the very_ ies of other8 and as Leibnitz truly observes, slow to
nity of performing it. On the other hand, Descartes was jealous oi
give them all the praise and admiration which were their due.
326 PAS
Pascal. Was to create them for others. Now, to seize a language
in its rude state, and compel it, in spite of its hardness
and intractability, to become a malleable material of thought,
is the exclusive prerogative of the highest species of minds;
nothing but the intense fire of genius can fuse these hete¬
rogeneous elements, and mould them into forms of beauty.
As a proof, we have the fact that none but the highest
genius has ever been equal to this task. Genius of less
than the first order will often make improvements in the
existing state of a language, and give it a perceptible im¬
pulse ; but only the most creative and plastic power can
at once mould a rude language into forms which cannot
become obsolete,—forms which remain in perpetuity a part
of the current literature, amidst all the changes of time
and the caprices of fashion. Thus it required a Luther to
mould the harsh German into the language of his still un¬
rivalled translation of the Scriptures, in which, and in his
vernacular compositions, he first fairly reclaimed his native
language from its wild state, brought it under the yoke,
and subjected it to the purposes of literature. Pascal was
in a similar manner the creator of the French.
The severely pure and simple taste which reigns in
Pascal’s style seems, when we reflect on those faults which
more or less infected universal letters, little less than a
miraculous felicity. One wonders by what privilege it
was that he freed himself from the contagion of universal
example, and rose so superior to his age. Taste was yet
almost unfelt: each writer affected extravagance of some
kind or other; strained metaphor, quaint conceits, far¬
fetched turns of thought, unnatural constructions,—these
were the vices of the day; not so much perhaps in France
as in England, but to a great extent in both. From all
these blemishes Pascal’s style is perfectly free; he antici¬
pated all criticism, and became a law to himself. Some of
his observations, however, show that his taste was no mere
instinct; they indicate how deeply he had revolved the
true principles of composition. His thoughts Sur VElo-
quence et le Style are well worth the perusal of every
writer and speaker. In one of them he profoundly says, “ The
very same sense is materially affected by the words that
convey it. The sense receives its dignity from the words,
rather than imparts it to them.” In another he says,
“ All the false beauties that we condemn in Cicero have
their admirers in crowds.” And in a third he admirably
depicts the prevailing vice of strained antitheses ; “ Those,”
says he, “ who frame antitheses by forcing the sense are
like men who make false windows for the sake of sym¬
metry, Their rule is not to speak justly, but to make just
figures.” The time spent on his own compositions shows
that even such felicity as his could not dispense with that
toil which is an essential condition of all perfect writing,—
indeed of all human excellence,-—and affords one other proof
of the extreme shallowness of that theory which would have
us believe that, to attain success, genius alone is all-suffi¬
cient. He is said, when engaged on his Lettres Provin¬
ciates, to have sometimes employed twenty days upon a
single letter.
Another circumstance which, as already intimated, in¬
dicates Pascal’s felicity of genius, is the peculiar delicacy
and refinement of his wit. We say its delicacy and re¬
finement ; for the mere conjunction of great wit w ith great
aptitudes for either philosophy or poetry cannot be con¬
sidered as a felicity peculiar to Pascal, It is the character
ot that wit. The conjunction of distinguished wit, in one
or other of its many forms, with elevated genius, is far too
common to be regarded as a peculiarity of Pascal’s mind.
Paradoxical as the statement may at first sight appear
to those who have been accustomed to consider wisdom
and wit as dwelling apart, it may be doubted whether
there is any one attribute so common to the highest order
of mind, whether scientific or imaginative, as wit of
CAL.
some kind, Plato, Bacon, and Shakspeare may be cited as Pascal,
examples. i
The wit of Pascal appears even now exquisitely chaste
and natural-—attired in a truly Attic simplicity of form and
expression. In one quality—that of irony—nothing appears
to us to approach it, except what we find in the pages of
Plato, between whom and Pascal (different and even oppo¬
site as they were) it is easy to trace a resemblance in other
points besides the character of their wit. Both possessed
surpassing acuteness and subtlety of genius in the depart¬
ment of abstract science ; both delighted in exploring the
depths of man’s moral nature ; both gazed enamoured on
the ideal forms of moral sublimity and loveliness ; both
were characterized by eminent beauty of intellect; and
both were absolute masters of the art of representing thought,
each with exquisite refinement of taste, and all the graces
of language. The Greek, indeed, possessed a far more
opulent imagination, and often indulged in a more gorgeous
style than the Frenchman; or rather Plato may be said to
have been a master of all kinds of style. But his dramatic
powers, in none of his dialogues, can be greater than those
which Pascal has displayed in his Provincial Letters.
The moral aspects of Pascal’s character are as inviting as
those of his intellect: here, too, he was truly great. Some
infirmities indeed he had, for he was no more than man.
He is nevertheless one of the very few who as passionately
pursue the acquisition of moral excellence as the quest
after speculative truth ; who practically, as well as theore¬
tically, believe that the highest form of humanity is not in¬
tellect, but goodness. Usually it is far otherwise ; there
is no sort of proportion between the diligence and assiduity
which men are ordinarily willing to expend on their intel¬
lectual and their moral culture. Nor is it less than an in¬
dication of something wrong about human nature, a symp¬
tom of spiritual disease, that of those three distinct orders
of greatness which Pascal has so exquisitely discrimminated
in his Pensees—Power, Intellect, and Goodness—the ad¬
miration inspired by the two first should be so much greater
than that inspired by the last.
Few men have ever dwelt on the ideal of moral perfec¬
tion, or sought to realize its image in themselves, with more
ardour than Pascal; not always, indeed (as regards the
mode), with as much wisdom as ardour. Yet upon all the
great features of his moral character one dwells with the
serenest delight. Much as he is to be admired, he is yet
more to be loved. His humility and simplicity, con¬
spicuous as his genius and acquisitions, were those of a
very child. The favourite of science, often crowned, as
an old Greek might have said of some distinguished young
hero at Olympia, with the fairest laurels of the successful
mathematician and the unrivalled polemic,—making disco¬
veries even in his youth which would have intoxicated
many men to madness,—neither pride nor vanity found
admission to his heart.. Philosophy and science produced
on him only their proper effect; and taught him, not how
much he knew, but how little,—not merely what he had
attained, but of how much more he was ignorant. His
perfect love of truth was beautifully blended with the
gentlest charity, and his contempt of fraud and sophistry
never made him forget, while indignantly exposing them, the
courtesies of the gentleman and the moderation of the
Christian ; and thus the severest raillery that probably ever
fell from human lips flows on in a stream undiscoloured by
one particle of malevolence, and unruffled by one expres¬
sion of coarseness and bitterness. The transparency and
integrity of his character not only shone conspicuous in all
the transactions of his life, but seem even now to beam
upon us as from an open, ingenuous countenance, in the in¬
imitable frankness and clearness of his style. It is impos¬
sible to read the passages in his philosophical writings, in
which he notices or refutes the calumnies to which he had
PAS
Pascal, been exposed, and by which it was sometimes sought to
defraud him of the honour of the discoveries he had made,
in one instance even to cover him with the infamy of appro¬
priating discoveries which had been made by others, with¬
out being convinced of the perfect candour and upright¬
ness of his nature.1 His generosity and benevolence were
unbounded; so much so, indeed, as to become almost
vices by excess, passing far beyond that mean in which
the Stagyrite fixes the limits of all virtue. He absolutely
beggared himself by his prodigal benefactions: he did
what few do, mortgaged even his expectancies to charity.
To all which we may add, that he bore the prolonged and
excruciating sufterings of his latter years with a patience
and fortitude which astonished all who witnessed them.
The failings of Pascal (for to these we must advert) were
partly the result of that system of faith in which he had
been educated ; and which, though he did so much to ex¬
pose many of the worst enormities which had attached
themselves to it, still exercised considerable influence over
him. It is lamentable to see such a mind as his surrender¬
ing itself to some of the most grievous extravagances of
asceticism. Yet the fact cannot be denied ; nor is it im¬
probable thathislife—brief, perhaps,at the longest,consider¬
ing his intense study and his feeble constitution—was made
more brief by these pernicious practices. We are told not
only that he lived on the plainest fare, and performed the
most menial offices for himself,—not only that he practised
the severest abstinence and the most rigid devotions,—but
that he w'ore beneath his clothes a girdle of iron, with sharp
points affixed to it; and that whenever he found his mind
disposed to wander from religious subjects, or take delight
in things around him, he struck the girdle with his elbow,
and forced the sharp points of iron into his side. We even
see but too clearly that his views of life to a considerable
extent became perverted. He cherished mistrust even
of its blessings, and acted, though he meant it not, as if
the very gifts of God were to be received with suspicion as
the smiling tempters to ruin—the secret enemies of our
well-being. He often expresses himself as though he
thought, not only that suffering is necessary to the moral
discipline of man, but that nothing but suffering is at pre¬
sent safe for him. “ I can approve,” he says in one place,
“ only of those who seek in tears for happiness.” “ Dis¬
ease,” he declares in another place, “ is the natural state of
Christians.” It is evident that the gracious Master in
whose school we all are, and whose various dispensations
of goodness and severity are dictated by a wisdom greater
than our own, does not think so : if he did, health would
be the exception, and disease the rule.
Pascal was obviously misled, by these sentiments, into the
self-imposed ascetic severities which aggravated all the suf¬
ferings of his later years. But it is at our peril that we
interfere with the discipline which is provided for us. He
who acts as if God had mistaken the proportions in which joy
and sorrow, prosperity and adversity, should be allotted to
us,—who seeks, by hair shirts, prolonged abstinence, and
self-imposed penance, to render more perfect the discipline
of suffering,—only enfeebles instead of invigorating his piety,
and resembles one of those hypochondriacal patients—the
plague and torment of physicians—who, having sought
advice, and being supposed to follow it, are found not only
taking their physician’s well-judged prescriptions, but
secretly dosing themselves in the intervals with some quack-
ish nostrum. Thus did Pascal; and it is impossible not to
CAL. 327
see that the experiment was attended in his case with very Pascal,
pernicious effects. v. , ^ -,L\»
It is indeed pitiable to read that, during his last days,
his perverted notions induced him to refrain from the
natural expressions of fondness and gratitude towards his
sisters and attendants, lest the affection with which they
regarded him should become inordinate,—lest they should
transfer to an earthly creature the affection due only to the
Supreme. Something, indeed, like an attempted justifica¬
tion of such conduct occurs in his Pemees—“ II est injuste
qu’on s’attache a moi, quoiqu’on le fasse avec plaisir et
volontairement. Je tromperais ceux ii qui j’en ferais naitre
le desir; car je ne suis la fin de personne, et n’ai pas de
quoi les satisfaire. Ne suis-je pas pret it mourir? Et
ainsi 1’objet de leur attachment mourra done. Comme je
serais coupable de faire croire une faussete, quoique je
la persuadasse doucement et qu’on la crut avec plaisir, et
qu’en cela on me fit plaisir ; de meme je suis coupable de
me faire aimer.” Madame Perier has cited this passage
in the life of her brother as accounting for his apparent
coldness to herself.2
It is wonderful that a mind so powerful should have been
misled by a pernicious asceticism to adopt such maxims ;
it is still more wonderful that a heart so fond should have
been able to act upon them. To restrain, even in his
dying hours, expressions of tenderness towards those whom
he so loved, and who so loved him ; to simulate a coldness
which his feelings belied ; to repress the sensibilities of a
grateful and confiding nature ; to inflict a pang, by affected
indifference, on hearts as fond as his own ; here was indeed
a proof of the truth upon which he so passionately medi¬
tated, the greatness and the misery of man,—of his strength
and his weakness : weakness, in supposing that such per¬
version of all nature could ever be a dictate of duty;
strength, in performing, without wincing, a task so hard.
The American Indian, bearing unmoved the torture of his
enemies, exhibits not, we may rest assured, greater forti¬
tude than Pascal, when, with such a heart as his, he re¬
ceived in silence the last ministrations of his devoted friends,
and even declined, with cold and averted eye, the assidui¬
ties of their zealous love. That same melancholy tempera¬
ment which, united wdth a pernicious asceticism, made
him turn his gaze even from innocent pleasure, and sus¬
pect a serpent lurking in every form of it, also gave to
his representations of the depravity of our nature an
undue intensity and Rembrandt-like depth of colouring.
His mode of expression is often such that, were it not
for what we otherwise know of his character, it might
be mistaken for an indication of misanthropy. With
this vice, accordingly, Voltaire does not hesitate to tax him.
“ Ce fameux ecrivain, misanthrope sublime.” Nothing
can be more unjust. As to the substance of what 1 ascal
has said of human frailty and infirmity, most of it is at once
verified by the appeal to individual consciousness; and as to
the manner, we are not to forget that he everywhere dwells
as much upon the greatness as upon the misery of man.
“ It is the ruined archangel,” says Hallam, with equal just¬
ness and beauty, “ that Pascal delights to paint.” It is
equally evident that he is habitually inspired by a desire to
lead man to truth and happiness; nor is there anything
more affecting than the passage with which he closes one of
his expostulations with Infidelity, and which M. Cousin
finely characterizes as “ une citation gloneuse a Pascal.
“ This argument,” you say, “ delights me. If this argument
1 See more particularly his letters to Father Noel, M. Le Pailleur, and M. De Ribeyre.
2 The  e J t~i . * . . ■■ «... ,,nr i.:i„ qo r was whollv a
— passage of Mad^e P^is'de;^^^' "‘Meanwhile, as I was wholly a stranger to his sentiments on this point I was
quite surprised and discouraged at the rebuffs he would give me upon certain occasions. I told my sister o , moment
plaining that my brother was unkind, and did not love me ; and that it looked to nae as if I put him ^ Pain» Ppripr’fi Memoirt
I was studying to please him, and striving to perform the most affectionate offices for him in his illness. (Ma
of Pascal.)
328
PASCAL.
Pascal, pleases you, and appears strong, know that it proceeds
—from one who, both before and after it, fell on his knees
before that infinite and invisible Being to whom he has sub¬
jected his whole soul, to pray that He would also subject
you to Himself, for your good and for His glory ; and that
thus omnipotence might give efficacy to his feebleness.”
In addition to this, it must be said that, in his most bitter
reflections, this truly humble man is thinking as much of
himself as of others, and regards Blaise Pascal as but a
type of the race whose degeneracy he mourns. His most
bitter sarcasms often terminate with a special application to
the writer. Thus he says, “ Vanity is so rooted in the
heart of man, that a common soldier or scullion will boast
of himself, and will have his admirers. It is the same with
the philosophers. Those who write would fain have the
fame of writing well; and those who read it, would have the
glory of having read it; and /, who am writing, probably
feel the same desire, and not less those ivho shall read it.”
It is true, indeed, that some of his reflections are as caus¬
tic and bitter as those of Rochefoucauld himself. For
example:—“ Curiosity is but vanity. Often we wish to
know more, only that we may talk of it. People would
never traverse the sea if they were never to speak of it,
for the mere pleasure of seeing, without the hope of ever
telling what they have seen.” And again :—“ Man is so
constituted that, by merely telling him he is a fool, he will
at length believe it; and if he tells himself so, he will con¬
strain himself to believe it. For man holds an internal in¬
tercourse with himself which ought to be well regulated,
since even here ‘ evil communications corrupt good man¬
ners.’”—“ I lay it down as a fact, that if all men knew what
they say of one another, there would not be four friends
in the world. This appears by the quarrels which are some¬
times caused by indiscreet reports.”
Still, as it is the motive which gives complexion to all our
moral actions, so Pascal’s bitter wisdom, or even his unjust
satire, is something very different from misanthropy. With
what noble eloquence—with what deep sympathy with hu¬
manity—does he rebuke the levity of those infidels who tell
us, as if it were matter of triumph, that we are the inhabitants
of “ a fatherless and forsaken world,” and who talk as if their
vaunted demonstration of the vanity of our immortal hopes
gave them a peculiar title to our gratitude and admiration !
“ What advantage is it to us to hear a man saying that he
has thrown off the yoke; that he does not think there is
any God who watches over his actions ; that he considers
himself as the sole judge of his conduct, and that he is ac¬
countable to none but himself ? Does he imagine that we
shall hereafter repose special confidence in him, and expect
from him consolation, advice, succour, in the exigencies of
life ? Do such men imagine it is any matter of delight
to us to hear that they hold that our soul is but a little
vapour or smoke, and that they can tell us this in an assured
and self-sufficient tone of voice? Is this, then, a thing to
say with gaiety ? Is it not rather a thing to be said with
tears, as the saddest thing in the world ?”
We now proceed to make a few observations on the
principal writings of Pascal. The one on which his fame, as
a great thinker, chiefly rests, fragmentary as it is, is the
Pensees. We have alluded to the literary history of this
work as highly curious. The thoughts were written, as
already said, on any scraps of paper that came to hand;
these were strung on a file, and left till health and leisure
should enable the author to develop and arrange them.
Health and leisure never came. But it was not this
only which has rendered the work so fragmentary. Many
of the thoughts are themselves only half developed ; others,
as given us in the literal copy of M. Faugere’s admirable
edition, break off in the middle of a sentence, even of a
word. Some casual interruption—frequently, no doubt,
some paroxysm of pain, to which the great author in his
latter years was incessantly subject—broke the thread of
thought, and left the web imperfect for ever.
On the imperfect sentences and half-written words,
which are now given in the volumes of M. Faugere, we
look with something like the feelings with which we pore
on some half-defaced inscription on an ancient monument,
—with a strange commixture of curiosity and veneration ;
and, whilst we wonder what the unfinished sentences
may mean, mourn over the malicious accident which has
perhaps converted what might have been aphorisms of pro-
foundest importance into a series of incoherent ciphers.
One of the last things, assuredly, which we should think
of doing with such fragments would be to attempt to alter
them in any way ; least of all, to supplement them, and to
divine and publish Pascal’s meaning. There have been
learned men who have given us supplements to the lost
pieces of some ancient historians ; erudite Freinsheimiuses
who hand us a huge bale of indifferent Latin, and beg us
only to think it Livy’s lost Decades. But what man would
venture to supplement Pascal ? Only such, it may be
supposed, as would feel no scruple in scouring an an¬
tique medal; or a successor to those monks who obliterated
manuscript pieces of Cicero that they might inscribe them
with some edifying legend. But more noted people were
scarcely more scrupulous in the case of Pascal. His friends
decided that the fragments which he had left behind him,
imperfect as they were, were far too valuable to be con¬
signed to oblivion ; and, so far, all the world will agree with
them. If, further, they had selected whatever appeared in
any degree coherent, and printed these, verbatim et litera¬
tim, in the best order they could devise, none would have
censured, and all would have thanked them. But they did
much more than this, or rather they did both much more
and much less. They deemed it not sufficient to give
Pascal’s remains with the statement that they were but
fragments; that many of the thoughts were very imper¬
fectly developed ; that none of them had the advantag of
the author’s revision,—apologies with which the world
would have been satisfied ; but they ventured upon mutila¬
tions and alterations of a most unwarrantable description.
In innumerable instances they changed words and phrases ;
in many others they left out whole paragraphs, and put a
sentence or two of their own in the place of them; they
supplemented what they deemed imperfect by an exordium
or conclusion, without any indication as to what were the
respective ventures in this rare species of literary co¬
partnery. It must have been odd to see this committee of
critics sitting in judgment on Pascal’s style, and deliberat¬
ing with what alterations, additions, and expurgations it
would be safe to permit the author of the Provincial Let¬
ters to appear in public. Arnauld, Nicole, and the Due
de Roannes were certainly no ordinary men ; but they were
no more capable of divining the thoughts which Pascal
had not expressed, or of improving the style where he had
expressed them, than of completing a sketch of Raphael.
It appears that, large as was the editorial discretion as¬
sumed, they had contemplated an enterprise still more
audacious,—nothing less than that of completing the work
which Pascal had projected, partly out of the materials which
he had left, and partly from what their own ingenuity might
supply. It even appears that they had actually commenced
this heterogeneous structure; and an amusing account has
been left by M. Perier of the progress the builders of this
Babel had made, and the reasons for abandoning the design.
“At last,” says he, “it was resolved to reject the plan, because
it was felt to be almost impossible thoroughly to enter into
the thoughts and plan of the author, and, above all, of an
author who was no more ; and because it would not have
been the work of M. Pascal, but a work altogether differ¬
ent—un ouvrage tout different.” Very different indeed!
.1
Pascal
FAS
Pascal. If this naive expression had been intended for irony, it
would have been almost worthy of Pascal himself.
Subsequent editors took similar liberties, if not so fla¬
grant, While the original editors left out many passages
from fear of the Jesuits, Condorcet, in his edition, omitted
many of the most devout sentiments and expressions, under
the influence of a very different feeling. Infidelity, as well
as superstition, has its bigots, who would be well pleased to
have their index expurgatorius also.
It had been long felt that no trustworthy edition of
Pascal’s Thoughts had been published—that nobody knew
precisely what was his, and what was not. M. Cousin, in
his valuable Rapport, demonstrated the necessity of an
entirely new edition, founded upon a diligent collation of
the original manuscripts; and this task M. Faugere per¬
formed with incredible industry. We must refer the
reader to his interesting Introduction for proof of this state¬
ment. There the editor has given the details of his labours.
Suffice it here to say, that every accessible source of in¬
formation was carefully ransacked; every fragment of
manuscript, whether in Pascal’s own hand, or in that of
members of his family, was diligently examined ; and every
page offers indications of minute attention, even to the
most trivial verbal differences. Speaking of the autograph
manuscript preserved in the Royal Library at Paris,—
a folio into which the original loose leaves are pasted, or,
when written on both sides, carefully let into the page
(“ encadres”),—he says, “ We have read, or rather studied,
this manuscript page by page, line by line, syllable by syl¬
lable, from the beginning to the end, and, with the excep¬
tion of some words which are illegible, it has passed entire
into the present edition.” As the public, in the former
editions, did not exactly know what w’as Pascal’s and what
was not, M. Faugere has been compelled to do what, under
other circumstances, would have been undesirable, and,
indeed, hardly just; what, indeed, any author of reputation
would vehemently protest against in his own case. He has
been obliged to give every fragment, however imperfect,
verbatim ; and the extracts, as we have already said, often
terminate in the middle of a sentence, sometimes even of a
word. M. Vinet justly observes in relation to this feature
of M, Faugere’s labours, that Pascal himself would hardly
have been satisfied with “either his old editors or the new.”
At the same time, it must be confessed that, apart from this
circumstance, it is deeply interesting to contemplate the
first rude forms of profound or brilliant thoughts as they
presented themselves to the ardent mind of Pascal. As M.
Vinet says, “ we are taken into the great sculptor’s studio,
and behold him at work chisel in hand.”
It is impossible to determine, from the undeveloped
character of these Thoughts, the precise form of the
work Pascal contemplated; all we are told is, that it was
to have treated of the primary truths of all religion, and
of the evidences of Christianity. It is clear that about half
the Thoughts which relate to theology at all have refer¬
ence to the former, and form by far the profoundest portion.
In Pascal’s day, however, both classes of subjects might
have been naturally included in one work. The great
deistical controversies of Europe had not yet commenced,
and there had been little reason to discriminate very nicely
the limits of the two investigations. Pascal himself could
hardly have anticipated the diversified forms which the sub¬
ject of the evidences of Christianity alone would assume ;
so diversified, indeed, that they are probably insusceptible,
from their variety, of being fully exhibited by one mind, or
consequently in one volume. The evidences of Chris¬
tianity almost form a science of themselves.
Fragmentary as the Pensees are, it is easy to see, both
from their general tenor and from the character of the
CAL.
author’s mind, where the strength of such a work would
be. His proofs of the truths of natural religion would
have been drawn from within rather than from without •
and his proofs of the truth of Christianity from its inter¬
nal rather than external evidences — including in this
tei m inteinal not only the adaptation of the doctrines re¬
vealed, to man’s moral nature, but whatsoever indications the
fabric of Scripture itself may afford of the divinity of its
origin.—It is evident that he had revolved all these topics
profoundly. None had explored more diligently the abyss
of man’s moral nature, or mused more deeply upon the
“ greatness and misery of man,” or on the “ contrarieties”
which characterize him, or on the remedies for his infir¬
mities and corruptions. And there are few, even since his
time, who seem to have appreciated more fully the evidences
of Christianity arising from indications of truth in the genius
structure, and style of the Scriptures; or from the difficul¬
ties, not to say impossibilities, of supposing a fiction as
Christianity the probable product of any human artifice,
much less of such an age, country, and (above all) such men
as the problem limits us to. In one passage he gives ex¬
pression to a thought very similar to that which suggested
the Horm Paulince.. He says, “ The style of the gospel
is admirable in many respects, and, amongst others, in this,
that there is not a single invective against the murderers
and enemies of Jesus Christ If the modesty
of the evangelical historians had been affected, and, in com¬
mon with so many other traits of so beautiful a character,
had been affected only that it might be observed; then,
if they had not ventured to advert to it themselves, they
would not have failed to get their friends to remark it to
their advantage. But as they acted in this way without
affectation, and from a principle altogether disinterested,
they never provided any one to make such a criticism.
And, in my judgment, there are many points of this kind
which have never been noticed hitherto; and this testifies
to the simplicity with which the thing was done.”1
He has also, with characteristic comprehensiveness, con¬
densed into a single paragraph the substance of the cele¬
brated volume of Bampton Lectures on the contrasts be¬
tween Mohammedanism and Christianity. “ Mahomet
founded his system on slaughter; Jesus Christ by exposing
his disciples to death : Mahomet by forbidding to read;
the apostles by commanding it. In a word, so opposite is
the plan of one from that of the other, that if Mahomet took
the way to succeed according to human calculation, Jesus
Christ certainly took the way to fail; and instead of arguing
that, since Mahomet succeeded, Jesus Christ might also
succeed, we ought rather to say, that since Mahomet suc¬
ceeded, it is impossible but that Jesus Christ should fail
On the subject of the external evidences we doubt
whether he would have been equally successful, partly be¬
cause the spirit of accurate historic investigation had not
yet been developed, and partly from the character of his
own mind. On the subject ot miracles, too, he scaicely
seems to have worked his conceptions clear; and in rela¬
tion to that of prophecy, he was evidently often inclined to
lay undue stress on analogies between events recorded in
the Old Testament and others recorded in the New, where
Scripture itself is silent as to any connection between them ;
  analogies in some cases as fanciful as any of those in
which the fathers saw so many types and prefigurations of
undeveloped truths.
From certain passages in the Pensees, a vehement charge
of scepticism has been preferred by M. Cousin, from which,
says that writer, Pascal spught refuge in a voluntarily blind
credulity. “ Le fond meme de 1’ame de Pascal est un
scepticisme universel, contre lequel il ne trouve d’asile
que dans une foi volontairement aveugle.”
329
Pascal.
VOL. XVII.
1 Tom. ii., p- 370.
2 T
I
330
PASCAL.
Pascal.
These are certainly charges which, without the gravest
and most decisive proof, ought not to be preferred against
any man, much less against one possessing so clear and
powerful an intellect as Pascal. It is, in fact, the most
degrading picture which can be presented of any mind;
for what weakness can be more pitiable, or what inconsis¬
tency more gross, than that of a man who, by a mere act
of will—if indeed such a condition of mind be conceivable
—surrenders himself to the belief of the most stupendous
doctrines, while he at the same time acknowledges that
he has no proof whatever of their certainty ?
It appears to us that M. Cousin has forgotten that Pas¬
cal by no means denies that there is sufficient evidence of
the many great principles to which scepticism objects; he
only maintains that we do not arrive at them by demon¬
stration. He has powerfully vindicated the certainty of
those intuitive principles which are not ascertained by rea¬
soning, but are presupposed in every exercise of reasoning.
Let us hear him: “ The only strong point,” says he, “of the
dogmatists is, that we cannot, consistently with honesty
and sincerity, doubt our own intuitive principles 
We know the truth, not only by reasoning, but by feeling,
and by a vivid and luminous power of direct comprehen¬
sion ; and it is by this last faculty that we discern first
principles. It is vain for reasoning, which has no share in
discovering these principles, to attempt subverting them.
  The Pyrrhonists who attempt this must try in
vain The knowledge of first principles—as the
ideas of space, time, motion, number, matter—is as unequi¬
vocally certain as any that reasoning imparts.”
But let us hear him still more expressly on the subject
of Pyrrhonism: “Here, then, is open war proclaimed among
men. Each must take a side; must necessarily range
himself with the Pyrrhonists or the dogmatists—for he
who would think to remain neuter is a Pyrrhonist 'par
excellence. He who is not against them is for them.
What, then, must a person do in this alternative ? Shall
he doubt of everything ? Shall he doubt that he is awake,
or that he is pinched or burned ? Shall he doubt that he
doubts? Shall he doubt that he is? We cannot get so
far as this; and I hold it to be a fact, that there never has
been an absolute and perfect Pyrrhonist.” M. Cousin must
suppose Pascal to have made an exception in favour of
himself, if it be indeed true that he was an universal scep¬
tic. It appears to us that M. Cousin has not sufficiently
reflected that, in those cases in which conclusions truly
involve processes of reasoning, Pascal does not deny
that the preponderance of proof rests with the truths he
believes, though he denies the demonstrative nature of
that proof; and he applies this with perfect fairness to the
evidences of Christianity as well as to the truths of natural
theology. “ There is light enough,” says he, “ for those
whose sincere wish is to see, and darkness enough to con¬
found those of an opposite disposition.” Of Christianity
he says, “ It is impossible to see all the proofs of this reli¬
gion combined in one view without feeling that they have
a force which no reasonable man can withstand.”
It is not without reason that M. Faugere says, in refer¬
ence to the charge of scepticism urged against Pascal,
“ Faith and reason may equally claim him. If they some¬
times appear to clash in his mind, it is because he wanted
time, not only to finish the work on which he was engaged,
but even to complete that internal revision (son oeuvre in-
terieure) which is a kind of second creation of genius ; and
to unite into one harmonious whole the diverse elements
of his thoughts. Amongst the inedited fragments of
Pascal we find these remarkable lines:—e II faut avoir
ces trois qualites ; Pyrrhonien, geometre, Chretien soumis ;
et elles s’accordent et se temperent en doutant ou il faut, Pascal
en assurant ou il faut, en se soummettant ou il faut.’ These
bold words comprise the entire history of Pascal, and ex¬
press in brief the state of his mind.” But it is impossible
in the limits of this article to enter with the requisite full¬
ness into the question of Pascal’s imputed scepticism.
The subject will be found fully treated in the essay of
which this article is an abridgment; in M. Faugere’s ad¬
mirable Introduction to his edition of the Pensees; and
in some very acute papers of M. Vinet, first collected and
published in 1848, under the title Etudes de Blaise Pas¬
cal; especially in those Sur le Pyrrhonisme de Pascal,
and Du Livre de M. Cousin sur les Pensees.
If the Pensees are the most profound, the Lettres
Provinciates are the most brilliant of Pascal’s works, and
among the very few which, though turning on local and
transient controversy, are so instinct with genius, so beau¬
tiful in thought and style, as to command the attention of
all time.
Nothing could be apter for the purpose—that of throw¬
ing into strong light the monstrous errors of the system he
opposed—than the machinery the author has selected. The
affected ignorance and naivete of M. Montalte, seeking
information respecting the theological disputes of the age,
and especially the doctrines of the Jesuits ; the frankness of
the worthy Jesuit father, of whom he asks instruction, and
who, in the boundless admiration of his order, and the hope
of making a convert, details without hesitation, or rather
with triumph, the admirable contrivances by which their
casuists had inverted every principle of morals and eluded
all the obligations of Christianity; the ironical compliments
of the supposed novice, intermingled with objections and
slightly-expressed doubts,—all delivered with an air of
modest ingenuousness which humbly covets further light;
the acute simplicity with which he involves the worthy
father in the most perplexing dilemmas; the expressions
of unsophisticated astonishment, which but prompt his
stolid guide eagerly to make good every assertion by a
proper array of authorities,—a device which, as Pascal has
used it, converts what would have been in other hands only
a dull catalogue of citations into a source of perpetual
amusement; the droll consequences which, with infinite
affectation of simplicity, he draws from the Jesuit’s doc¬
trines ; the logical exigencies into which the latter is
thrown in the attempt to obviate them ;—all these things,
managed as only Pascal could have managed them, render
the book as amusing as any novel. The form of letters
enables him at the same time to intersperse, amidst the con¬
versations they record, the most eloquent and glowing in¬
vectives against the doctrines he exposes. Voltaire’s well-
known panegyric does not exceed the truth, that Moli-
ere’s best comedies do not excel them in wit, nor the com¬
positions of Bossuet in sublimity. “ This work,” says
D’Alembert, “ is so much the more admirable, as Pascal, in
composing it, seems to have theologized two things which
seem not made for the theology of that time—language and
pleasantry.”
The success of the work is well known. By his inimi¬
table pleasantry Pascal succeeded in making even the
dullest matters of scholastic theology and Jesuitical ca¬
suistry as attractive to the people as a comedy; and by his
little volume did more to render the formidable society the
contempt of Europe than was ever done by all its other
enemies put together. The Jesuits had nothing for it but
to inveigh against the letters as “ the immortal liars” {les
menteurs immortelles')}
Of the scientific writings of Pascal we have already
spoken. (h. r.)
1 To the charge of having garbled citations and tampered with evidence, in order to produce an unfair impression against the society
t to all Pascal’s habits of mind and dispositions of heart), he replies, with the characteristic boldness and
(practices utterly abhorrent
PAS
Pascal I.
Pas-de-
Calais.
Pascal I. (Pope) succeeded Stephen IV. in the pon¬
tifical chair in 817, and died in 824.
Pascal II. (Pope), whose real name was Ranieri, was
a monk of the order of Cluni, and succeeded Urban II. in
1099. An inveterate struggle with the occupants of the
imperial throne, regarding investitures, extended over the
whole of his pontificate. He began the contest in 1102
by renewing the decrees of his predecessors on that sub¬
ject, and by excommunicating the Emperor Henry IV.
He then encouraged the son of that monarch to raise the
standard of revolt, and to supplant his father in the throne.
Under the new emperor, Henry V., the controversy only
assumed a more serious aspect. The emperor refused to
give up his right of investiture to the Pope. The Pope
threatened to withhold the ceremony of coronation from
the emperor, In 1110 the emperor advanced into Italy
at the head of a large army, seized upon the person of the
Pope, and consigned him to bondage. For more than two
months the Pope continued obstinate, and was only induced
by the entreaties of his friends to crown the emperor, and
yield the point of dispute. Yet the controversy thus set¬
tled was soon started again by the synods and councils of
the church. They recalled the concession that had been
forcibly extracted by the emperor, and renewed their claim
to the right of investiture. In this manner they brought
the two great potentates once more into the field against
each other. Henry V. led an army towards Rome in
1116, and Pascal retreated to Benevento, The former
in course of time retired from the city; and the latter,
returning during the absence of his adversary, was ac¬
tively engaged in preparing war when he was cut off by
disease in 1118.
PASCO, or Cerro di Pasco, a town of Peru, capital
of the department of Junin, stands in an irregular hollow
in the elevated plain of Bonbon, 140 miles N.E. of Lima.
It is meanly and irregularly built on uneven ground, the
houses being for the most part low and wretched, and gene¬
rally thatched. The ground on which it is built abounds
in silver ore, and is almost honeycombed by the mines,
many of which open in the interior of the houses. These
silver mines occupy a space about 15 miles broad, from E.
to W.; but it is only the most valuable of them that are
now worked. Coal is also found in the vicinity. As the
surrounding country is very barren, most of the provisions
have to be brought to Pasco from a distance. This town
is the highest permanently-inhabited spot in America, and
probably also in the whole world. Its elevation is stated
at 14,280 feet above the level of the sea. The population
varies at different periods from 7000 to 18,000, according
to the season of the year and the state of the mines.
PASCUARO, or Patzcuaro, a town of Mexico, state
of Mechoacan, stands on the S.E. shore of the Lake of
Pascuaro, 30 miles S.W. of Valladolid. In the neighbour¬
hood are copper mines; and at some distance the best
sugar plantations in the state. Pop. 6000.
PAS-DE-CALAIS, a department of France, lying be¬
tween 50. and 51. N. Lat., 1. 35. and 3. 10. E. Long. It
is bounded on the N. by the Strait of Dover, N.E. and E.
by the department of Nord, S. by that of Somme, and W.
by the English Channel ; length, from N.W. to S.E.,
about 86 miles; average breadth, 33 miles; area, 2561
PAS 33i
square miles. The country is traversed from N.W. to S.E. Pas-de-
by a low chain of hills, from which the ground slopes era- Calais,
dually down on either side. The highest elevation of these
hills does not exceed 327 feet; and the two slopes are
scarcely to be distinguished from each other. These
heights form the watershed of the rivers of the department
—the Lys, the Scarpe, the Sensee, and the Aa, flowing
down the N.E. slope, the first three into the Escaut, and
the last into the sea; while the Authie, the Canche, the
Liane, and the Slack traverse the S.W. slope, and fall into
the English Channel. Ihe valleys of these rivers are sepa¬
rated by small spurs diverging from the main ridge of hills.
Most of the streams are navigable for some distance, either
naturally or by means of canals. Those on the north flow
sluggishly through an almost flat region; and during the
whole of the winter they form extensive marshes, which de¬
posit a large quantity of alluvial soil, and increase the fertility
of the country. The only promontory on the coast is Cape
Grinez, between Calais and Boulogne, where the range of
hills terminates in a series of chalk cliffs similar to those of
Dover, on the opposite side of the Channel, and extending
several miles on each side of the cape. The rest of the
coast is in general low, and bordered by sandy and barren
downs, having an average breadth of about two miles, and
an entire area of 44,000 acres, and presenting a very bleak
aspect. Along the coast-line, which is about 80 miles in
length, the only good harbours are those of Calais and
Boulogne.^ These are formed by artificial piers, and are
capable of receiving large vessels; while the others can
only be approached by fishing-boats. The constant ac¬
cumulation of sand has destroyed several harbours that
formerly existed here; and even those that still exist are
in some danger of being likewise filled up.
In geological structure, the country for the most part
belongs to the chalk formation. Iron and coal are found
in small quantities, and several mines are wrought. Marble,
limestone, quartz, rock-crystal, and other minerals, are also
obtained. There are several Artesian wells in the depart¬
ment. These were first sunk here upwards of a century ago,
and derived their name from the old province of Artois, to
which this country then belonged. Richness, rather than
picturesque beauty, is the prevailing aspect of the country;
tracts of well-cultivated ground alternate with extensive
meadows and pasturages. The country is marshy in many
places; and towards the north, the low and flat ground
near the coast has, as in Holland, to be defended by dykes
from the incursions of the sea. The soil is very fertile,
especially for corn ; the farms are large, and agriculture is
in an advanced state. In its variable climate, Pas-de-
Calais resembles the south-western parts of England. The
winters are long and rainy, and the climate in general cold,
damp, and in some places not very healthy. Corn, pulse,
potatoes, beet-root, hops, flax, and hemp are the principal
crops raised; and a small part of the country is occupied
by woods and orchards. The live stock reared here are
generally of inferior breeds ; but there are estimated to be
in the department 80,000 horses, 180,000 horned cattle,
300,000 sheep, 7000 goats, 140,000 pigs, &c. The sea
near the coast abounds in fish ; and hence affords employ¬
ment to a large number of the inhabitants. Manufacturing
industry is actively and extensively carried on. It is cal-
frankness of his nature,—“ I was asked if I repented of having written Les Provinciates ? I reply that, far from having repented, if I
had to write them now, I would write yet more strongly. ... I was asked why I had employed a pleasant, jocose, and diverting style. I
reply that, if I had written in a dogmatical style, it would have been only the learned who would have read, and they would have had
no necessity to do it, being at least as well acquainted with the subject as myself y thus I thought it a duty to write so as to he compre-
bended by women and men of the world, that they might know the danger of those maxims and propositions which were then universally
propagated, and of which they permitted themselves to be so easily persuaded. I wms asked, lastly, if I had myself read all the books I
have cited. I answer, No ; for in that case it would have been necessary to have passed my life in reading very bad booksbut I had
read through the whole of Escobar twice, and, for the others, I caused them to be read by my friends. But I have never used a single
passage without having myself read it in the book cited, or without having examined the subject on which it is adduced, or without
having read both what precedes and what follows it, in order that I might not run the risk of quoting what was, in fact, an objection,
for a reply to it, which would have been censurable and unjust.”
332 PAS
PAS
Pasewalk culated that there are 700 manufactories, employing 25,000
hands, and producing annually goods to the value of
witch" L.1,920,000. The most important of the articles manu-
/ factored are,—beet-root sugar, soap, oils, cotton and woollen
fabrics, linen, hosiery, and lace. Paper-mills, foundries,
glass-works, potteries, tanneries, distilleries, and breweries
are also in operation. The chief articles of export are,—
corn, flour, sugar, oils, marble, building-stone, timber, and
manufactured articles. There is a considerable coasting
trade in corn and other rural produce; and the foreign
commerce is chiefly carried on with England. Communica¬
tion is kept up by steamers between the ports of this de¬
partment and London, Dover, and Folkestone; and there
is a submarine telegraph cable between Dover and Calais.
The means of internal communication are furnished by
three railways, extending over 88 miles, besides numerous
roads, rivers, and canals. Pas-de-Calais contains a school
of medicine at Arras, an academy, four colleges, a normal
school, and 1220 elementary schools. It forms the diocese
of Arras ; and contains 6 primary courts and 4 courts of
commerce. The capital is Arras ; and the department is
divided into arrondissements as follows :—
Cantons. Communes. Pop. (1856).
Arras 10 211 169,123
Bethune  8 142 139,844
Saint-Omer  7 118 109,624
Saint-Pol  6 193 79,928
Boulogne  6 100 138,557
Montreuil  6 139 75,770
Total 43 903 712,846
PASEWALK, a town of Prussia, in the government of
Stettin, on the Ucker, 27 miles W. by N. of Stettin. It is
surrounded by walls; and has a court of law, churches,
hospitals, and several breweries. The town is ancient, and
once belonged to the Hanseatic League. Some trade is
still carried on. Pop. 7217.
PASIGRAPHY (from ttSs, all, and ypac/>w, I write),
the imaginary art of writing so as to be universally under¬
stood by all nations of the earth. The idea of establishing
such a language is deemed by many extremely fanciful,
whilst the practicability of it is as strenuously contended
for by others. Llints respecting such an universal lan¬
guage are to be met with in the writings of many eminent
philosophers; but the attempt has signally failed, even in
the hands of Leibnitz, Kircher, Becher, and Wilkins. Kant
is of opinion, however, that such a pasigraphy falls within
the limits of possibility ; nay, he even prognosticates that
it will certainly be established at some future period.
PASIPHAE. See Minos.
PASKIEWITCH, Ivan F eedoroyitch, F ield-Marshal,
Prince of Warsaw, Viceroy of Poland, and General-in-
Chief of the Russian army, was born at Pultowa on the
12th May 1782, and was appointed at an early age aide-
de-camp to the Emperor Paul. The first part of his career
was one continued series of arduous campaigns and hot
engagements. He began service in the terrible field of
Austerlitz in 1805. Then he served from 1807 to 1812
in the army which acted against Turkey. No sooner was
that expedition ended than the war with France involved
him in the very thick of the most desperate of modern
struggles. Lie fought at the battles of Dachkofka, Soul-
tanofka, Smolensk, and Moskwa, in 1812; at the battles of
Kulm, Dresden, and Leipsic, in 1813; and at the battle of
Arcis-sur-Aube, in 1814. Out of that long course of
deadly strife fortune brought Paskiewitch with safety and
honour. She was reserving him for more successful achieve¬
ments. Appointed to the command of the army of the
Caucasus, he won a diamond-mounted sword by his victory
at Elizavetopol in 1826, the surname of Erivansky by his
storming of Erivan in 1827, and the dignity of field-mar¬
shal by his capture of Erzeroum in 1829. Entrusted in
1831 with the suppression of the revolt in Poland, he dis- Pasquin
persed the Poles, carried their capital, and was rewarded I!
with the titles of Prince of Warsaw and Viceroy of Poland. . Passau'
Sent also in 1849 to assist Austria in crushing the Hun-
garians, he was soon able to write home to the emperor in
these words : “ Hungary is at your feet.” Success, how¬
ever, deserted Paskiewitch at last. He was repulsed by
the Turks at Silistria in 1854, and received a contusion at
the same time which compelled him to retire from service,
and eventually caused his death on the 29th January 1856.
PASQUIN, a mutilated statue at Rome, in a corner of
the palace of the Ursini. It took its name from a cobbler
of that city called Pasquino, famous for his sneers and
gibes, and who diverted himself by telling facetious and
satirical stories to those who frequented his stall, as well as
by cracking his jokes upon all passers-by. The witty say¬
ings of the cobbler came to be called pasquinate (hence
pasquinade), a term subsequently applied by the Romans
to all kinds of humorous epigrams and satirical lampoons.
These lampoons, which attacked persons in high station,
were frequently fixed by night at or near the mutilated
statue alluded to, which, from that circumstance, came to be
called Pasquino, after the defunct cobbler.
PASS, or Passade. See Fencing.
PASSAGE, a town of Ireland, county of Cork, on the
W. side of Cork harbour, about 5 miles S.S.E. of the town
of Cork. It has an Established, a Methodist, and a Roman
Catholic church, and several schools. The place is much
frequented as a watering-place; and has many handsome
villas in the neighbourhood. There is a good harbour;
and vessels that are too large to ascend to Cork unload
their cargoes here. Passage has also dockyards, and is
connected with Cork by a railway. Pop. 2857.
PASSAMAQUODDY BAY, an inlet of the Atlantic
Ocean, on the borders of New Brunswick and the state of
Maine. It extends into the land for the distance of 12
miles, and is about 6 miles broad at its mouth. It affords
an excellent harbour for the largest vessels, and is never
obstructed by ice. It contains several islands; and the
waters abound in fish of various kinds.
PASSANT. See Heraldry.
PASSAU, a town of Bavaria, circle of Lower Bavaria,
stands at the confluence of the Danube and the Inn, 91
miles E.N.E. of Munich. Its position at the junction of
these broad streams, and shut in by lofty and steep moun¬
tains, is extremely grand and picturesque, although the
buildings are for the most part not good. Passau proper
stands between the right bank of the Danube and the left
of the Inn, but it has several suburbs beyond: Innstadt,
on the right bank of the Inn ; Anger and Ilzstadt, on the
left of the Danube,—the former above and the latter below
the Ilz, which here joins that river from the north, opposite
to the Inn. The Inn and the Danube are crossed here by
wooden bridges; that over the latter resting on seven
granite piers. The town and its suburbs are defended by
citadels and fortifications, the strongest of which is the
castle of Oberhause, on the left bank of the Ilz. Passau
is in fact one of the most important strongholds on the
Danube. Among the public buildings in the town, one of
the most remarkable is the cathedral of St Stephen, an
edifice originally built in the Gothic style, but which
having been, with the exception of the choir, entirely de¬
stroyed by fire, was rebuilt in the Italian style. It con¬
tains many interesting monuments. In the Cathedral
Square (Domplatz), which is the finest in Passau, stands a
large bronze statue of King Maximilian Joseph. Besides
the cathedral, there are in the town seven churches, some
of which are fine buildings. The royal palace, formerly
the residence of the bishops, and the post-office, in which
the treaty of Passau was signed in 1552, are also worthy of
notice. The town contains a public library, theatre, town-
PAS
Passeri hall, several schools and hospitals, an infirmary, and a
|| lunatic asylum. The principal manufactures of the place
Passion- are iron> copper, porcelain, pottery, tobacco, beer, leather,
Week. ancj paper> An active trade is carried on, both up and
down the Danube. Passau is the capital of a bishopric
which was formerly an independent state, but was secu¬
larized in 1803, and incorporated with Bavaria in 1809.
The most important historical event that took place here
was the treaty of 1552 between Maurice of Saxony and
Ferdinand, King of the Romans, on behalf of Charles V.,
by which the religious freedom of the Protestants was
secured. Pop. 12,000.
PASSERI, Giovanni Battista, one of the greatest
authorities on Italian art, was born at Rome about 1610.
The circumstances of his career were peculiarly fitted to
qualify him for writing on the fine arts. He practised
composition both in prose and verse, and acquired the ease
and skill of a professional litterateur. He cultivated, at
Frescati, the friendship of Domenichino, and caught from
the lips of that great artist a knowledge and appreciation
of the great principles of art. He was also himself a painter
of no mean standing, as his picture of the “ Crucifixion
between two Saints,” in the church of San Giovanni della
Malva at Rome still testifies. Accordingly, at his death in
1679, Passeri left behind him in manuscript a collection of
lives of painters, sculptors, and architects, which has been
considered one of the most authentic of art histories. In
general its facts are accurate, its criticisms just, and its
theories profound. It was first published by an anonymous
editor, supposed to be Bottari, in 1772, and presented a
biographical account of Italian art from 1641 to 1673 in¬
clusive.
PASSERONI, Gian Carlo, an Italian satirical poet,
was born in the county of Nizza in 1713, and entered into
holy orders. His career presents a rare instance of a good-
natured contempt for the gifts of fortune. He was still
young when he resigned the office of chaplain to the papal
nuncio at Cologne, and retired to a humble cellar in Milan
to enjoy solitude and practise austerity. A cock was his
only companion, and a thread-bare suit and a few mean
articles of furniture were his only riches. His door was
closed against all donations, and all offers of place and posi¬
tion. He sat down at his humble table to write his II
Cicerone, a satirical poem which railed at fortune and
society in easy and unaffected language, and in a strain of
pleasant and decorous banter. The fame which this work
gained for him did not affect his humility. A pension
which the Cisalpine Republic bestowed on him did not
alter his abstemious habits. He continued to cultivate
frugality in his lonely cellar till he died in 1802, at the
age of eighty-nine. Besides his II Cicerone, which was
published in 6 vols., Milan, 1768, Passeroni wrote Trans¬
lations of Several Greek Epigrams, Milan, 1786-94 ; and
JEsopian Fables, in 6 vols., Milan, 1786.
PASSIGNANO, the surname which Domenico Cresti,
an eminent Italian painter, derived from his native place.
He was born, according to some, in 1560, and according to
others, about 1557. His studies were prosecuted at Venice
under Naldini and Frederigo Zuccaro. He became a
thorough-going admirer of the Venetian school, and learned
to imitate Paul Veronese in the richness of his architecture
and drapery. The brightest part of his professional career
was spent at Rome. He painted the “ Crucifixion of St
Peter” for the church of St Peter’s, and the “Entombing
of Christ” for the Borghese palace. The closing years of
his life were spent at Florence. He died there in 1638.
The most distinguished of Passignano’s pupils was Pietro
Sorri of Siena.
PASSION-WEEK, the week immediately preceding
Easter, and so called because in that week, according to some,
happened our Saviour’s passion and death. The Thurs-
PAS 333
day of this week is called Maunday Thursday; the Friday, Passover
Good Friday ; and the Saturday, the Great Sabbath.
PASSOVER (PlDp ; Trdcr^a, a passing over, sparing,
or protection), a solemn Jewish festival having both a his¬
torical and a typical reference. As a commemorative insti¬
tution, it was designed to preserve amongst the Hebrews a
grateful sense of their redemption from Egyptian bondage,
and of the protection granted to their first-born on the night
when the destroying angel passed over the houses of the
Hebrews, but slew all the first-born of the Egyptians (Exod.
xii. 27); as a typical institute, its object was to shadow
forth the great facts and consequences of the Christian
Sacrifice (1 Cor. v. 7). The word passover has three gene¬
ral acceptations in Scripture :—Is*, It denotes the yearly so¬
lemnity celebrated on the 14th day of Nisan or Abib,
which was strictly the Passover of the Lamb, for on that
day the Israelites were commanded to roast the paschal
lamb, and eat it in their own houses; 2d, It signifies that
yearly festivity, celebrated on the 15th of Nisan, which may
be called the Feast of the Passover (Deut. xvi. 2 ; Num.
xxviii. 16, 17); 3d, It denotes the whole solemnity, com¬
mencing on the 14th, and ending on the 21st day of Nisan
(Luke xxii. 1), though in strictness of speech, the Passover
and the Feast of Unfermented Things are distinct institu¬
tions. The Passover was to be kept on the eve of the 14th
of the first month (Abib), in which, although unfermented
things were enjoined to be eaten with the lamb, yet the
feast of unleavened bread did not commence until the fol¬
lowing morning. It continued seven days, of which the first
and last only were sabbaths (Lev. xxiii. 5-8) ; the first pro¬
bably in commemoration of the commencement of their
march out of Egypt; the last of their passage through the
Red Sea.
On the 10th of the month Abib, the master of a family
separated a ram or a goat of a year old, without blemish
(Exod. xii. 1-6 ; 1 Pet. i. 19), which was slain on the 14th
day “ between the two evenings,” before the altar (Deut. xvi.
2, 5, 6). Originally the blood was sprinkled on the posts
of the door (Exod. xii. 7), but afterwards the priests sprin¬
kled the blood upon the bottom of the altar (comp. Deut.
vi. 9; 1 Pet. i. 2; Heb. viii. 10; ix. 13, 14). The ram
or kid was roasted in an oven, whole, with two spits forming
a cross. It was next served up with a bitter salad, indicative
of the bitterness of their bondage in Egypt, and eaten with
unleavened or unfermented bread. Wine also to the quan¬
tity of four or five cups was drunk by each person. Con¬
siderable dispute has been raised as to whether the wine
used on this occasion was fermented or unfermented,—was
the ordinary wine, in short, or the pure juice of the grape.
Those who hold it was unfermented appeal mainly to the ex¬
pression “ unfermented things,” which is the true rendering
of the word translated “ unleavened bread. The rabbins
would seem to have interpreted the command respect¬
ing ferment as extending to the wine as well as to the
bread of the passover. The modern Jews, accordingly,
generally use raisin wine, after the injunction of the rab¬
bins. What of the flesh remained uneaten was to be con¬
sumed with fire, lest it should see corruption (comp. Exod.
xii. 10 ; Ps. xvi. 10 ; Acts ii. 27). Not fewer than ten, nor
more than twenty persons, were admitted to this sacred
solemnity. At its first observance, the Hebiews ate the
Passover with loins girt about, sandals on their feet, staves
in their hands, and in haste, like travellers equipped and
prepared for immediate departure (Exod. xii. 11); but sub¬
sequently the usual mode of reclining was adopted, in token
of rest and security (John xiii. 23). The rabbins enume¬
rate the following particulars as peculiar to its original observ¬
ance, but which were afterwards modified :—I. The eating
of it in their houses dispersed in Egypt; 2. The taking up of
the paschal lamb from the tenth day; 3. The charge to
334 PAS
Passport strike the blood on the door-posts; 4. The eating of it in
II . haste (Bab. Talmud, Pesachim, c. 9; Maim. Carbon
aagoma. C- jq, § 15). But the command not to break a bone
of the offering was always observed (John xix. 36). The
ceremonies practised at the eating of the paschal supper will
be found fully detailed in the Mishna. (See Kitto’s Cyclo¬
pedia of Biblical Literature^)
PASSPORT, a letter, license, or document of one sort
or other, issued by competent authority, permitting the
bearer to enter into and remain in a particular country, or
portion thereof, for an indefinite or a specified time, and
sometimes also for a specified purpose.
Every independent state has the right to exclude such in¬
dividuals as it pleases from its territory ; and it consequently
has the right to require all strangers entering, or desiring
to enter, its territories to bring with them properly authen¬
ticated documents showing what they are, and (if required)
for what purpose they desire to visit the country. (See
Marten, lib. iii., cap. 3 ; and a host of other authori¬
ties.) Passports have been introduced principally with the
view of preventing persons hostile to the government or
institutions of a country from crossing its frontier. And this
obviously is a power which all governments would wish,
were it in their power, to exercise and make effectual.
But the widest experience has sufficiently proved that the
facilities for travelling and for getting into extensive coun¬
tries are now so great, that the regulations with respect to
passports merely obstruct that free intercourse between
the well-behaved and peaceable inhabitants of different na¬
tions that is so advantageous, without throwing any serious
obstacle in the way of the transit of dangerous or suspi¬
cious characters. The latter have either little difficulty in
obtaining passports under false pretences, or in making
their way without them; and it is found that the com>
tries in which the regulations as to passports are enforced
with the greatest strictness are those in which suspicious
characters are most common. On the whole, there can
be little doubt that their abolition would be of great
public advantage, and that it would not he productive,
either in France or elsewhere, of any injurious conse¬
quences.
PASTO, a town of New Granada, in the province of
Cauca, stands among the Andes, at an elevation of 8576
feet above the sea, 148 miles N.N.E. of Quito. In the
vicinity is an active volcano. The town contains a fine
church; and has some trade in wooden articles. Pop.
7000,
PASTORAL (Latin, pastor, a shepherd) is the name
given to a species of poetry which is devoted to descrip¬
tions and delineations of country life, or to dramatic com¬
positions in which the principal characters are shepherds or
other rustics. (See Eclogue, Bucolic, and Idyll.)
Pastoral Theology is that department of theology
which has to do with the practical duties of a clergyman
as the teacher, counsellor, comforter, and guide of his
spiritual flock.
Pastoral Letters are those circulars addressed by a
bishop (the pastor of his people) to his diocesans, for their
religious instruction or guidance in matters of ecclesiasti¬
cal discipline,
PATAGONIA, a large country of South America, oc-
cupying the southern extremity of that continent from the
Rio Negro to the Strait of Magellan. It lies between S.
Lat. 38. 50. and 53, 55., W, Long. 63. and 76., and is
bounded on the N. by the Argentine Republic, E. by the
Atlantic, S. by the Strait of Magellan, W, by the Pacific, and
N.W. by Chili. Its length from N. to S. is 970 miles, its
breadth varies from 200 to 420, and its area is about 300,000
square miles. The country is divided into two regions
differing widely from each other in their general character.
The one of these lies along the west coast, and is entirely
PAT
mountainous; while the other, to the east, is in general low Patagonia,
and flat. In the western region, the mountains all belong to
the chain of the Andes, which is here much lower than in
the more northerly parts of South America, for the average
height of the range in Patagonia does not exceed 3000
feet; but even here there are some mountains upwards of
7000 feet above the sea. Southwards from the Gulf of
Ancud, where the Chilian and Patagonian territories meet,
the country along the shore of the Pacific presents an
aspect quite different from that which is met with farther
north. Instead of having a narrow strip of low land, with
an almost unbroken coast extending between the mountains
and the Pacific, as is generally the case on this coast, the
Patagonian Andes rise abruptly out of the sea, which, fre¬
quently flowing into the deep defiles of the mountains, extends
long and winding arms far into the land. Numerous high and
rocky islands, rising abruptly out of the sea, line the coast.
The chief of these are,—Chiloe, the Chonos Archipelago,
M ellington Island, the Archipelago of Madre de Dios, Ha¬
nover Island, and Queen Adelaide’s Archipelago. There is
also a large peninsula, called Tres Montes, lying between
the Chonos Archipelago and Wellington Island, joined to
the mainland by a narrow isthmus. Near the southern ex¬
tremity of Patagonia two remarkable inlets break the con¬
tinuity of the Andes chain. The first of these divides
itself into two branches,—Last Hope Inlet, extending to
the X., and Ancon Sin Salida, or Obstruction Sound, to the
S.; while the second, which is much larger, spreads itself
out in two sheets of water—Otway Water and Skyring
M ater—connected by a narrow strait. Farther to the S.,
not only the mountain chain, but the entire mass of the
land is divided by the Strait of Magellan, extending from
the Pacific to the Atlantic, and separating Tierra del Fuego
and the adjacent islands from Patagonia. All the moun¬
tains of M estern Patagonia, as w ell as those on the islands,
are thickly wooded on their western declivities, but entirely
bare on the side that is exp>osed to the ocean. The whole
of the region is subject to incessant winds and rains, the
breezes being generally from the W., and bringing from
the Pacitic an immense quantity of moisture, which is con¬
densed on the mountains, and deluges the country with
almost incessant showers. The ground is thus kept con¬
stantly wet; and there are few days in the year when rain
does not fall in summer, or snow and sleet in w inter. The
largest river in \i\ estern Patagonia is the San Tadio, a small
stream which falls into the Pacific S. of the peninsula of
Tres Montes. It is formed by two mountain torrents, and
is navigable for about 11 miles. On the mainland opposite
the island ot Chiloe there are two volcanoes, the farthest
S. of any that are known to have been active in modern
times. These are Minchinmadiva, 8010 feet, and Corco-
vado, . 500 feet above the sea. The eastern part of Pata¬
gonia is in its surtace and climate the very reverse in many
respects of the western. The land is low and flat, rising
gradually in terraces from the Atlantic to the Andes. The
unitormity of the surface is, how ever, broken by the high
lands of Espinosa, which occupy a large promontory be¬
tween S. Lat- 47. and 48., and rise to the height of 4000
feet above the sea. In the southern portion of the country
the soil consists of tertiary strata, covered over w ith shingle,
and destitute of all vegetation, except here and there scat¬
tered tufts of grass and low bushes. Although numerous
salt pools occur in this region, there is a great scarcity of
rresh water. North of 45. S. Lat., the country is more
undulating, and not so entirely destitute of vegetation as
the southern portion; for in some places the valleys and
low hills are covered with grass and stunted trees, and
there are even parts where good pasturage and timber may
be obtained. Eastern Patagonia is traversed by several
rivers, which are much larger than those that water the
western region. The Rio Negro, which forms the northern
PATAGONI A. 335
Patagonia, boundary of Patagonia, rises in the Andes, flows first N.E.,
then E., and finally S.E., falling into the Atlantic. Its
whole length is about 700 miles; and at a long distance
from its mouth it has a breadth of 500 yards. Of the other
rivers little is known except their mouths; the Chupat,
the Camerones, the Desire River, the Santa Cruz, and the
Gallegos, are the most important,—all falling into the Atlan¬
tic. The Santa Cruz is a river of considerable size, and is
believed to flow through several lakes, one of which. Lake
Capar, is 30 miles long and 10 or 12 broad. This river
flows for a great part of its course in a deep valley, through
an elevated plain which rises in some parts 1800, and in
others between 2000 and 3000 feet above the sea. Along
the banks there are in some places deep and extensive layers
of lava. The eastern coast of Patagonia, from the entrance
of Magellan’s Strait as far northwards as 49. S. Lat-, con¬
sists of cliffs of marly clay rising 200 or 300 feet perpen¬
dicularly from the sea, and somewhat resembling, when seen
from a distance, the coast of Kent. North of this, as far as
45. S. Lat., the cliffs are somewhat higher, and their pre¬
vailing structure is porphyritic. Beyond this point the
coast presents a different aspect, consisting of a shingly
beach skirted by a reef of rocks. The largest gulfs of
the eastern coast are those of San Matias, S. of the Rio
Negro ; and St George, N. of Cape Blanco. There are also
several harbours along this coast, such as Port San Antonio,
in 41. S. Lat.; Nuevo Golfo, in 43.; Port Desire, in 47.
5.; Port San Julian, in 49. 12.; Santa Cruz, in 50. 7.; and
Gallegos, in 51. 38. The climate of Eastern Patagonia
is as remarkable for dryness as that of the western region
is for its constant showers. Captain Fitzroy, who explored
the Patagonian coasts between the years 1826 and 1836,
thus speaks of the climate of this country:—u One natu¬
rally asks why Eastern Patagonia should be condemned to
perpetual sterility, while the western side of the same coun¬
try, in the same parallel of latitude, is injured by too much
rain ? The prevailing westerly winds and the Andes are
the causes. The winds bring much moisture from the
Pacific, but they leave it all, condensed, on the west side
of the mountains. After passing the cordillera, those same
winds are very dry. Easterly winds are very rare upon the
east coast; they are the only ones which carry rain to the
almost deserts of Patagonia. Westward of the Andes, an
east wind is dry and free from clouds. AD this country
is exposed to severe cold weather in winter, and to ex¬
cessive heat in summer. Great and sudden changes of
temperature take place, when, after very hot weather,
cold winds rush northwards with the fury of a hurricane.”
The temperature of the country S. of the 45th parallel
of latitude is in general extremely cold, although during
the short summer great heat is experienced. The vege¬
table products of Patagonia are very scanty, the onlv
portion where there is a luxuriant vegetation being the
country near the Rio Negro, in which the same plants
are found as in the adjacent parts of the Argentine Re¬
public. Among the forests of the west several species
of beech and many large and beautiful ferns occur. Ani¬
mals are found in greater abundance than vegetables in
most parts of Patagonia. Herds of guanacoes, amounting
to several hundreds in number, roam about the country;
and the puma, the wolf, the fox, the opossum, the cavia,
the armadillo, the otter, and the seal, are also met with.
There are an immense number of animals of the class
Rodentia,—more, perhaps, than in any other part of the
world. The horse is found in all parts of the country,
being the invariable companion of the natives of East¬
ern Patagonia. The condor and the cassowary are the
principal terrestrial birds; but the sea-fowl are very nu¬
merous, including several species of swans, ducks, and
geese. Fish and other sea-animal, are plentiful along the
coasts.
The aboriginal natives of Patagonia are a tall and ex- Patagonia,
tremely robust race of men. Their bodies are bulky, and v—
their head and features large, but their hands and feet are
small. Their limbs are neither so muscular nor so large¬
boned as their height and apparent bulk would lead one
to suppose ; they are rounder and smoother than those of
white men. Their colour is a rich reddish brown, rather
darker than the hue of copper. The only attractive fea¬
ture about their persons is their teeth, which are sound and
white. Their cheek-bones are prominent, and so is their
brow, which is broad but low. Their heads are furnished
with a profusion of rough, lank, and coarse black hair,
which is tied above the temples by a fillet of plaited or
twisted sinews ; and they wear no other covering upon
this part of their body. The size of the Patagonians has
been represented by some writers as quite gigantic; and,
although the earlier voyagers have given somewhat ex¬
aggerated accounts of them, which have been improved by
some subsequent authors, it seems to be the universal tes¬
timony of those who have visited the country in modern
times, that they do considerably exceed the average stature
of Europeans. Captain Byron, in the middle of last cen¬
tury, saw a number of men above 8 feet, and some as much
as 9 feet in height. Captain Fitzroy thus speaks of the na¬
tives that he saw :—“ Among two hundred or three hun¬
dred natives of Patagonia scarcely half a dozen men
are seen whose height is under 5 feet 9 or 10 inches;
the women are proportionably tall. I have nowhere
seen an assemblage of men and women whose average
height and apparent bulk equalled that of the Patago¬
nians. Tall and athletic as are many of the South Sea
islanders, there are also many among their number who are
slight and of lower stature. The Patagonians seem to be
high-shouldered, owing perhaps to their habit of folding
their arms across the chest, in their mantles, and thus in¬
creasing their apparent height and bulk, because the man¬
tles hang loosely, and almost touch the ground. Until ac¬
tually measured, it is difficult to believe that they are not
much taller than is the case.”
Mr Boume, an American seaman, who was for some time
a captive in Patagonia in 1849-50, says that their average
height L 6^ feet, while some nearly reach 7 feet. These
accounts are so precise and satisfactory that the question as to
the actual size of the Patagonians may be regarded as com¬
pletely set at rest. Is it more improbable that there should
be races of men above the European standard, than it is
that there should be races whose height is below it ? Yet
we know beyond a doubt that the Esquimaux are so.
With the exception of the head, little hair grows upon
their bodies ; and from the face it is carefully removed by
shells or pincers. They do not disfigure their naturally
coarse features by piercing either nose or lip, but they be¬
daub their bodv with white, black, or red paint, forming
grotesque figures, such as circles around their eyes or great
marks across their faces. This ornamental body-painting
is practised bv all the different races ot Patagonians from
Cape Horn to' Buenos Ayres. On their feet and legs they
wear boots made of the skins of horses’ hind legs. Spurs
made of wood, but of iron if they can get it, balls (bolas),
qi. if ones, attached to a long leather thong, for the purpose
of catching the guanaco or the ostrich by throwing the
balls so as~to wind round their legs, whilst a long tapering
lance, and a knife, if it can be procured, complete their
equipment. w Mounted upon horses of a middle size,”
savs Captain Fitzroy, “under fifteen hands high, and
rather well bred, the Patagonians seem to be carried no
better than dragoons who ride eighteen stone upon horses
able to carry ten; yet they go at full speed in chase of
ostriches or guanacoes. When hunting or making long
journeys they often change horses. The women are
dressed and booted like the men, with the addition of a half
1
336
PAT
PAT
Patagonia, petticoat. They clean their hair, and plait it into two tails.
Ornaments of brass, beads, bits of coloured glass, or such
trifles, are prized by them. The huts of these wanderers
are somewhat like gipsy tents. Poles are stuck in the
ground, to which others are fixed. Over them are thrown
the skins of animals, an irregular tilt-like hut being thus
formed.” It is to be observed that the inhabitants of
Tierra del Fuego, and of the islands to the S. and S.W.,
wear little or no clothing. The Patagonians appear to
possess nothing like towns, but lead a wandering and un¬
settled life, somewhat resembling that of the Tartars. The
different parts of the country are inhabited by several dis¬
tinct nations, the chief of which are the following:—The
Moluche, or Warrior Indians, who inhabit the Andes and
neighbouring regions immediately S. of the Rio Negro;
the Puelche, or Eastern People, who wander about the
N.E. of Patagonia ; the Chulian Indians, who occupy the
mountainous regions S. of 42. S. Lat.; the Te-huel-het,
or Southern People, who inhabit the south-eastern extre¬
mity of the country ; and the Fuegians, who people not only
the island of Tierra del Fuego, but the western coast of the
mainland, as far N. as the peninsula of Tres Montes. The
last of these differs from the others in being of much lower
stature. The various tribes into which they are divided
are generally under the command of chiefs ; and they sub¬
sist chiefly on the flesh of mares, guanacoes, emus, &c. Very
few traces of any religious ceremonies have been observed
among them. We are informed by Falconer, the Jesuit
missionary, that after the dead have been interred twelve
months, the graves are visited by the tribe for the purpose
of collecting the bones, and conveying them to their family
sepulchres, where they are set up, and adorned with all the
beads and ornaments which the friends and family of the
deceased are able to collect for the occasion. The cere¬
mony is performed by certain women of the tribe, whose
peculiar office it is to attend to these rites. In corrobora¬
tion of the Jesuit’s testimony, Captain King informs us,
that near Port Desire he had seen the graves of the In¬
dians upon the summits of hills, but without the bodies,
which he supposes to have in all probability been removed
by the Indians.
It seems highly probable that Magalhaens was the origi¬
nal discoverer of the southern coast of Patagonia and the
northern coast of Tierra del Fuego, as well as of the strait
which bears his name. Sir Francis Drake passed the strait
in the year 1578; and being driven by storms to the S.,
discovered the western and south-western coast of Tierra
del Fuego, and also Cape Horn; although the honour of
the discovery of the latter has generally been ascribed to
Jacob Le Maire, a Dutchman in the service of the states
of Holland. In the year 1616 this navigator was the first
who doubled that terminus of South America, and called
it Cape Horn, after a village in Holland. Proceeding in a
north-easterly direction, he crossed the strait which bears
his name, and discovered Staten Island, which he so desig¬
nated after the states of Holland. It is supposed that Da¬
vies, one of the companions of Cavendish in his voyage to
the South Seas in 1592, was the first person who saw the
Falkland Islands; but they were not, properly speaking,
discovered till the year 1594, when Sir Richard Haw¬
kins examined them, and called them in honour of his
queen and himself, Hawkins’ Maiden Land. The name,
however, was subsequently changed to Falkland Islands by
Strong, another English navigator. During the early part
of the eighteenth century they were re-discovered by some
trench navigators; and hence the origin of the French
name, Malouine Islands. To Captain Cook we are in¬
debted for the first accurate account of the south-eastern
coast of lierra del Fuego, which he explored in 1774 ;
and so little was known concerning it before this period
that, when actually in sight of Cape Horn, he was unable to
decide whether it was a detached island or a part of Tierra Patak
del Fuego. Amongst the other distinguished names con- II
nected with the discovery or investigation of this part of Patents-
the South American continent, are those of Sarmiento
(whose account of a voyage down the western coast, and
through the Strait of Magalhaens, has never been sur¬
passed), Sir John Narborough, Cordova, Byron, Willis,
Carteret, Bougainville, Weddel, King, Stokes, and Fitz-
roy. It only remains to be noticed that, although repeated
attempts had been made to form permanent settlements in
Patagonia, or upon the neighbouring islands, particularly
by the Spaniards, until recently none of these has been
successful. In 1843, however, the government of Chili
founded a settlement at Port Famine, on the Strait of Ma¬
gellan, which was in 1850 transferred to Sandy Point, some
distance to the N. This colony contained in 1853 about
20 houses, with a chapel and sacristy. The population was
150; and they had 10 horses, 18 goats, and a number of
swine. Another settlement on the strait has recently been
projected; and in 1854 an exploring expedition was sent
thither with a view to that undertaking. The western part
of Patagonia is claimed by Chili, and the eastern by the
Argentine Republic. With regard to population, it must be
quite obvious that no accurate idea can be formed. It has,
however, been estimated at 120,000. By far the greater
part of the country—that which stretches along the eastern
side of the Andes, from their base to the Atlantic Ocean—
is almost entirely unknown, with the exception of a very few
places upon the coast. It is quite possible, therefore, that
the inhabitants may be far more numerous in this region
than is supposed ; but the general sterility of the country
holds out little prospect of any great commercial advantages
to be gained by intercourse with them, except in the pre¬
cious metals, which are doubtless to be found in the Pata¬
gonian Andes.
PATAK, Saros, a market-town of Hungary, county of
Zemplin, on the right bank of the Bodrog, here crossed by
a bridge, 14 miles S.W. of Zemplin. It contains a once
famous but now ruined castle, a celebrated Protestant col¬
lege, a Roman Catholic upper school, See. Cloth is manufac¬
tured here; and wine is produced in the vicinity. Pop. 5480.
PATANI, a small kingdom on the eastern coast of the
Malay Peninsula, subject to Siam. It is the most fertile
portion of Malacca; rice and salt are obtained in large
quantities; and these articles, as well as tin, are exported.
The chief town, Patani, stands on the coast, N. Lat. 7.,
E. Long. 105. 35.; and was formerly much resorted to by
vessels trading between India and China, though at pre¬
sent it is rarely visited. There is, however, some commu¬
nication kept up between this place and Singapore. Patani
is also the name of a cape on this coast, at the entrance of
the Gulf of Siam.
PATAVINITY (patavinitas), properly the mode of
speaking peculiar to the people of Patavium, is a term em¬
ployed by literary critics, to denote generally any provincial
idiom. The word takes its origin from the alleged pro¬
vincialisms to be found in the writings of Livy, who was a
native of Patavium, a provincial town belonging to the
Roman empire. According to Quintilian (i. 5, § 56; viii.
1, § 3), Pallio censured the historian for this alleged defect,
but it does not appear that any critic has ever pointed out
precisely in what the patavinity of Livy really consists. It
was perhaps of so subtle and delicate a nature that we are
no longer in a position to detect it. Niebuhr simplifies the
matter by altogether disbelieving Quintilian’s storv.
PATAVIUM. See Padua.
PATENTS: Letters Patent for Inventions. These
are documents bearing the great seal of the United King¬
dom, by which inventors obtain a monopoly in their inven¬
tions for a certain number of years ; which monopoly is simi¬
lar in principle to that conceded to authors and artists
PATENTS.
Patents, under the name of copyright. There are persons who
argue that no such privilege should be permitted; there
are others who think that the most trifling exertions of the
inventive faculties should be protected. The right course
lies between these extremes. All civilized nations have
considered it desirable to give inventors an exclusive right
to their inventions for a limited period, not only as a mat¬
ter of justice to individuals, but as a piece of sound policy
tending to the advantage of the whole community. The
monopoly is granted in the expectation that the inventor
will derive some profit from it; and the hope of profit is
known to be a great stimulus to invention. When an au¬
thor writes a book, or an artist designs a picture, the law
allows a right of property to those persons in their produc¬
tions, and accompanies the recognition of this right with
the power to repress infringements. If this were not so,
very few persons would employ their time in writing books
or creating works of art; and hardly any one will be bold
enough to assert that the extinction of the race of authors
and artists is to be desired. The same principle applies to
inventors, who ought to have the works of their brain pro¬
tected from piracy fully as much as the other classes of
mental producers. By holding out to them the prospect of
gain, they are induced, at a present loss of time and money,
to attempt to discover improvements in the useful arts, in
machinery, in manufacturing processes, &c.; and thus the
interests of the community are advanced more rapidly than
if such exertions had not been brought into play. Just as
the rule of rewarding inventors is in theory, the practi¬
cal application of it is attended with difficulty. To grant
a very long term of exclusive possession would be detri¬
mental to the public, since it would tend to stop the progress
of improvement. A limited property must therefore
be allowed; large enough to give the inventor an oppor¬
tunity of reaping a fair reward, but not barring the way
for an unreasonable period. And when this compromise
has been decided on, it will be seen how difficult it may be
to determine beforehand what is the real merit of an in¬
vention, and apportion the time to that merit. Hence
it has been found necessary to allot one fixed period
for all kinds of inventions falling within the purview of
the patent laws. This regulation appears to be open to
the complaint, that the most worthless and the most meri¬
torious inventions are placed on the same footing. But
it may be replied, that in the result this is of little conse¬
quence, since meritorious inventions alone obtain the pa¬
tronage of the public, those which are destitute of value being
neglected. Besides, if the complaint were well founded,
there is here no sound argument against the policy of privi¬
leges of this nature, seeing that it is impossible to weigh
beforehand one invention against another in the scale of
merit, or to obtain a true standard of comparison.
Leaving the discussion of general considerations, we will
now give an outline of the law affecting patent privileges in
the United Kingdom. In the old times, the reigning prince
considered himself entitled, as part of his prerogative, to
grant privileges, in the nature of monopolies, to any one who
had acquired his favour. These grants became so numerous
that they were oppressive and unjust to various classes of the
commonwealth; and hence, in the reign of James L, a sta¬
tute was wrung from that king which declared all monopolies
that were grievous and inconvenient to the subjects of the
realm to be void. There was, however, a special exception
from this enactment of all letters patent and grants of privilege
of the “ sole working or making of any manner of new
manufactures which others at the time of making such
letters patent and grants should not use, so they be not
contrary to law, nor mischievous to the state.” Upon these
words hangs the whole law of letters patent for inventions.
Various statutes were afterwards passed (which it would
be well to consolidate into one act), and the principal of
VOL. XVII.
337
these is the Patent Law Amendment Act of 1852. These Patents.
statutes, however, do not materially alter the law; it is v ■ v-»y
chiefly the practice of obtaining letters patent, and their
form, that are affected. The positive law has to be gathered
from the numerous decisions of the courts, for patent law
is for the most part “judge-made law.” Of that law, as it
now stands, we proceed to give an outline.
The inventions for which patents are obtained are chiefly
either vendible articles formed by chemical or mechanical
operations, such as cloth, alloys, vulcanized india-rubber,
&c.; or machinery and apparatus, or processes. It may
be remarked here, that a scientific principle cannot form
the subject of a valid patent unless its application to a
practical and useful end and object is shown. An abstract
notion, a philosophical idea, may be extremely valuable in
the realm of science, but before it is allowed to form a sound
basis for a patent, the world must be shown how to apply
it so as to gain therefrom some immediate material advan¬
tage. With regard to processes, the language of the statute
of James has been strained to bring them within the words
“ any manner of new manufactures,” and judges on the
bench have admitted that the exposition of the act has gone
much beyond the letter. However, it is undoubted law
that a process is patentable; and patents are accordingly
obtained for processes every day.
The principal classes of patentable inventions seem to be
these :—
1. New contrivances applied to new ends.
2. New contrivances applied to old ends.
3. New combinations of old parts, whether relating to
material objects or processes.
4. New methods of applying a well-known object.
We have not space to enlarge upon these rough divisions,
and will only remark, with regard to a patent for the new
application of a well-known object, that there must be some
display of ingenuity in making the application, otherwise the
patent will be invalid on the ground that the subject-matter
is destitute of novelty. For example, a machine already
in use as an excavator on land cannot be separately patented
as an excavator under water ; nor can a machine employed in
the finishing of cotton goods be afterwards patented as ap¬
plied to the finishing of woollen fabrics. A small amount
of invention is indeed sufficient to support a patent where
the utility to be derived from the result is great. A small
step in advance, a slight deviation from known processes,
may have been apparently brought about by the exercise
of little ingenuity ; but if the improvement be manifest,
either as saving time or labour, a patent in respect of it will
stand. The mere omission of a step from some commonly
practised process has been held sufficient to support a pa¬
tent for a new method of manufacture; and how often do
we see what appears to be a very trifling degree of novelty,
attended with very advantageous consequences, sometimes
resulting in the entire revolution of a manufacture, or in a
lowering of price appreciable in every pound of an article
extensively used by the public.
Whatever be the nature of the invention, it must possess
the incidents of utility and novelty, else any patent obtained
in respect of it will be invalid. The degree of utility need
not, however, be great; it is sufficient if a jury can find some
utility in it. As to novelty, this is the rock upon which
most patents split; for if it can be shown that other persons
have used the invention before the date of the patent, it will
fall to the ground, although the patentee was an independent
inventor deriving his ideas from no one else. The difficulty
of steering clear of this rock will be apparent at once. • Sup¬
pose A. in London patents an invention the result of his
own ingenuity and patient study, and it afterwards appears
that B., in some distant part of the kingdom, had been pre¬
viously openly using the same thing in his workshop, A.’s
patent is good for nothing. Thus, in one of the cases which
arose out of Heath’s carburet of manganese patent, a patent
celebrated in the law courts, it appeared that three firms
had used a process in the manufacture of steel which was
substantially the same as that forming the subject of the
patent. They had used the process openly in the way of
their trade previous to the date of the patent, although it
had not become generally known. This prior use ot the
invention was held to deprive the patent of validity. It is
therefore a very frequent subject of inquiry, whether an in¬
vention has been previously used to such an extent as to have
been publicly used in the sense attached by the courts to
this phrase; the more especially as, if the prior use of the
invention by some other person has not been public and
general, an act of Parliament (5 and 6 Will. IV., cap.
83) has given the patentee a remedy against the strict
rule of law by means of a petition to the Privy Council.
The inventor himself is not allowed to use his invention
either in public or secretly, with a view to profit, before
the date of the patent. Thus, if he manufactures an article
by some new process, keeping the process an entire secret,
but selling the produce, he cannot afterwards obtain a
patent in respect of it. If he were allowed to do this, he
might in many cases easily obtain a monopoly in his inven¬
tion for a much longer period than that allowed by law.
The rule, that an inventor’s use of the invention invalidates
a subsequent patent, does not, however, apply to cases where
the use was only by way of experiment with a view to im¬
prove or test the invention. And it has been repeat¬
edly decided that the previous experiments of other per¬
sons, if incomplete, or abandoned before the realization of
the discovery, will not have the effect of vitiating a patent.
Nor will such an effect be produced by the previous dis¬
covery of the subject-matter of a patent, if the discoverer
keeps the secret to himself, the law holding that he is the
“ true and first inventor” referred to in the statute of James,
who first obtains a patent.
When an invention is the joint production of more per¬
sons than one, they must all apply for and obtain a joint
patent, for a patent is rendered invalid on showing that a
material part of the invention was due to some one not
named therein. The mere suggestion of a workman em¬
ployed by an inventor to carry out his ideas will not, how¬
ever, require that he should be joined, provided that the
former adds nothing substantial to the invention, but merely
works out in detail the principle discovered by his employer.
In certain cases in which patents taken out by the celebrated
Sir Richard Arkwright came to be inquired into, it was
proved that the inventions were really made by persons in
Arkwright’s employment. Their value being perceived by
him, he adopted them, and obtained the patents in ques¬
tion, but under these circumstances they were adjudged
invalid.
If it can be shown that the invention in respect of which
a patent has been obtained was previously described in a
printed book in circulation in Great Britain, whether such
book be in the English or a foreign language, the patent is
also invalid; because a man has no right to obtain a mono¬
poly in that which is already a part of the stock of public
information; and it is not necessary to prove that the pa¬
tentee was acquainted with the book, and derived his ideas
from that source.
But persons are allowed to obtain patents for inventions
imported from abroad, if such inventions are new within
the realm, and if they acknowledge, on the face of their
petitions, that the inventions are imported, not original.
Such patents are now common. If the invention has been
patented abroad, the law directs that the British patent
shall expire at the same time as the foreign patent.
Ihe attributes of novelty and utility being possessed
in due degree by an invention, the chief remaining dif¬
ficulty with which a patent has to contend resides in
the specification, the instrument by which the inventor Patents,
describes the nature of the invention, and the means by
which it may be carried into effect. An inventor is bound,
in return for the monopoly conceded to him, to instruct
the public how to work the invention when the monopoly
shall have expired, and to inform them in the meantime
what it is they are shut out from using. The patentee
may either file this instrument along with his petition for a
patent, or he may reserve it until the end of six months
from the date of the patent. In either case, he must make
a full disclosure of his secret; he must not keep anything
back either wilfully or accidentally; he must render every¬
thing plain and clear, showing no attempt to mislead, and
leaving nothing ambiguous ; he must distinguish what is old
from what is new, and take care that he claims no more than
he is entitled to ; in short, the invention must be accurately
and intelligibly described, properly limited, and communi¬
cated to the public in such a way that they may have a
complete knowledge of that in which they are granting to
him a temporary monopoly. Very many patents have been
invalidated by inattention to these rules in framing the
specification, — the most common fault being, that it
claims too much ; in other words, it claims something that
is already public property, or another man’s patented inven¬
tion. And here we are brought back again to the question
of novelty.
If a patentee discovers that his specification claims more
than he is entitled to, he may put the matter right by filing
a disclaimer, and excising the superfluous parts; but he
will not be allowed to extend his claims in any degree.
He may cut out anything, but he can insert nothing.
The term for which a patent is originally granted is four¬
teen years, but the Crown has power, under an act of Par¬
liament (5 and 6 Will. IV., c. 83), and on the report of the
Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, before which
the proceedings to this end take place, to extend the time
of a patent from its expiration for any additional time not
longer than fourteen years. But an extension will only be
granted on the patentee showing that he has not been
adequately rewarded; and what is adequate reward depends
on the special circumstances of each case.
Patent privileges, like most other rights, can be made
the subject of sale. Partial interests can also be carved out
of them by means of licenses, instruments which empower
other persons to exercise the invention, either universally
and for the full time of the {latent (when they are tanta¬
mount to an assignment of the patentee’s entire rights), or
for a limited time, and within a limited district. By an ex¬
clusive license is meant one that restrains the patentee
from granting other licenses to any one else. By means
of a license a patentee may derive benefit from his patent
without entering into trade, and without running the risks
of a partnership.
A patentee’s remedy for an infringement of his rights is
by civil suit, there being no criminal proceeding in such a
case. In prosecuting such suit, he subjects those rights to
a searching examination, for the alleged infringer is at
liberty to show that the invention is not new, that the pa¬
tentee is not the true and first inventor, &c., as well as to
prove that the alleged infringement is not really an in¬
fringement. But it may here be remarked, that a patentee
is not bound down (unless he chooses so to be) to the pre¬
cise mode of carrying the invention into effect described in
the specification. If the principle is new, it is not to be ex¬
pected that he can describe every mode of working it; he
will sufficiently secure the principle by giving some illus¬
trations of it; and no person will be permitted to adopt
some mode of carrying the same principle into effect, on the
ground that such mode has not been described by the pa¬
tentee. On the other hand, when the principle is not new,
a patentee can only secure the particular method which he
PAT
Patera has invented, and other persons may safely use other me-
|| thods of effecting the same object. Instances of this occur
Paterculus. every Jay . and it is well known that scores of patents have
been taken out for screw-propellers, steam-hammers, water-
meters, &c., each of which is limited to the particular con¬
struction described, and cannot be extended farther. Again,
where the invention patented consists of a combination of
parts, some old and some new, the whole constituting a
new machine or a new process, it is not open to the world
to copy the new part and reject the rest. A man is not
suffered to allege that the patent is for a combination, and
that the combination not having been used, there has been
no infringement.
The Crown has power to repeal any letters patent on good
grounds being shown by means of a writ of scire facias;
and this is issuable at the request of any subject. Want of
novelty in the invention, the fact of the patentee not being
the inventor, and the insufficiency of the specification, form
good grounds for repealing a patent.
Patents are not now extended to the colonies, and such
of our colonies as possess a legislature are gradually acquir¬
ing patent laws for themselves.
The patent business of the United Kingdom is carried
on under the direction of commissioners appointed by the
act of 1852, the chief of whom is the lord chancellor; and
the whole of it is transacted at one office in London, instead
of at many offices, as formerly. Previous to that act, a se¬
parate patent was issued for each of the three kingdoms,
but now one patent is valid throughout the realm. The
proceedings taken with a view to obtain a patent commence
with the presentation of a petition, accompanied by a sketch
of the invention and a declaration of its originality. Various
steps are interposed before the patent is issued, in order to
afford those who have grounds for opposing the grant an op¬
portunity of doing so. Most patents are obtained through
persons styled 'patent agents, who devote themselves to
this branch of business. The act just referred to intro¬
duced various useful reforms in the proceedings for obtain¬
ing patents, but greater simplicity and a lessening of the ex¬
pense are still desirable.
(For further information on the subject of this article,
the reader is referred to Johnson’s Patentee's Manual,
second edition, 1858, as comprising an exposition of the
law and practice within a moderate compass.) (j. y. j.)
PATERA, a broad flat dish, or libation-saucer, among
the Romans, deriving its name, according to Macrobius
{Sat. v. 21), from its open, shallow form (“ planum ac patens
est”). The ordinary paterae were made of common red
earthenware, slightly ornamented; but the more valuable
vessels of this class were composed for the most part of
bronze, and every family of easy circumstances possessed
one of silver. The original use of the patera seems to
have been domestic, which gave origin, in all likelihood,
to its employment at sacrifices. Numerous specimens of
paterae are to be seen in almost all collections of ancient
fictile vases, and especially in the British Museum..
PATERCULUS, Caius Velleius, a Roman historian,
was the son of a praefect of cavalry, and is conjectured to
have been born in 19b.c. He was descended from a Cam¬
panian family which had been distinguished during several
generations for its devoted attachment to the Romans. One
of his ancestors, Decius Magius, was the leader of the Ro¬
man party in Capua when the majority of the citizens were
revolting to Hannibal. Another of his ancestors, Minatius
Magius, fought zealously and bravely on the side of Rome
in the Social War. His grandfather also, a retired captain
of the artificers, was so chagrined when the infirmities of
age would not permit him to follow his general, Claudius
Nero, into banishment, that he run himself through with
his own sword. From these old heroes Paterculus inherited
a warlike zeal and energy. Succeeding his father in 4 a.d.
PAT 339
as a praefect of cavalry in the army of Tiberius Caesar in Paterno
Germany, he soon gained preferment and honour. He ob- II
tained the quaestorship in 7 a.d., a share in the triumphal vPaterson-
honours of his general in 12 a.d., and the praetorship in 14
a.d. His services and abilities seem also to have secured
for him the friendship of the Emperor Tiberius, and of the
emperor’s rising favourite, Sejanus. It was, however, in the
character of a historian that Paterculus won his brightest
laurels. In 30 a.d. he sat down to write a historical com¬
pendium which should embrace not only the annals of his
own country down to his own time, but also those of the
rest of the civilized world. The cursory nature of such a
work would not permit him to dwell long upon any parti¬
cular scene, and whirled him along, as he said himself,
“ with the rapidity of a wheel or torrent.” Yet, by omitting
all incidents that were not absolutely essential, and by de¬
scribing at length those events that formed the characteris¬
tics of the several ages, he succeeded in making his narra¬
tive at once comprehensive and interesting. The shortness
of the time allotted for the task often hurried him into con¬
fused and slovenly sentences. Yet he narrated facts with
great point and vigour, and made reflections that were strik¬
ingly original and appropriate. The work was finished the
same year in which it had been begun ; and was dedicated
to M. Vinicius, the ruling consul. When and how Pater¬
culus died have not been ascertained. It has been conjec¬
tured that he was involved in the ruin of Sejanus in 31 a.d.,
along with that minion’s other friends. The work of Pater¬
culus has come down to modern times under the title of a
Roman History, and with some of its parts wanting. Bea-
tus Rhenanus discovered the manuscript in the monastery of
Murbach in Alsace, and printed it at Basle in 1520. The
most valuable edition is that of Ruhnken, Leyden, 1779,
reprinted by Frotscher, Leipsic, 1830-39. The edition of
Orelli, Leipsic, 1835, contains some textual improvements.
An English translation of Paterculus forms, in conjunction
with translations of Sallust and Florus, a volume of Bohn’s
“ Classical Library.”
PATERNO, a town of Sicily, province of Catania, stands
at the foot of Mount AStna, 10 miles N.W. of Catania. It
is a very ancient place ; and contains numerous convents
and churches. The surrounding country is fertile, produc¬
ing corn, oil, wine, flax, hemp, and timber ; in which articles
an active trade is carried on. In the vicinity of the town
are mineral springs and a salt mine. Paterno gives the
title of Prince to one of the principal families of Sicily.
Numerous vestiges of antiquity have been discovered here ;
among others, the remains of baths, a tomb, an aqueduct,
and a ruined bridge. The town is supposed to occupy the
site of the ancient Hybla Major. Pop. 10,700.
PATERSON, a town of the United States of North
America, in the state of New Jersey, stands on the right
bank of the Passaic River, 13 miles N. of Newark, and 17
N.W. of New York. The streets are straight and well
paved, and the houses substantially built. 1 here are about^
eighteen churches, belonging to various sects, and some of
them are edifices of much elegance. There are also a
court-house, jail, two banks, several schools, a philosophical
society with a library, and a mechanics institution. The
manufactories of the place are extensive. There are about
twenty cotton factories, several dyeing and printing esta¬
blishments, two large manufactories of locomotives, besides
paper-mills, fulling-mills, foundries, &c. Paterson is thus
one of the principal manufacturing towns in the States ;
and in New Jersey it is second only to Newark. Immedi¬
ately above the town the Passaic falls over a precipice 50
feet high. This forms, during the time of flood, a magnifi¬
cent spectacle. A great part of the water is carried off by
a canal into a basin, from which, by different channels, it
is conveyed to the various mills of the town. Paterson is
connected by railway with New York, and by canal with
340 PAT
Paterson, the Atlantic. On the opposite side of the river, which is
crossed by two bridges, stands the village of Manchester.
Paterson was originally founded in 1791 by a company for
the manufacture of cotton ; and although it had to be aban¬
doned soon afterwards, the original design was subsequently
carried out. Pop. (1850) 11,338 ; (1853) about 13,000.
PATERSON, William, founder of the Bank of Eng¬
land, was born, according to tradition, at Skipmyre in Tin-
wald, Dumfriesshire, and, as his will testifies, in the spring
of 1665. Little is definitely known respecting the early
part of his career. He is said to have been originally des¬
tined for the Scottish Church, and received accordingly
a suitable elementary education. While yet a lad, how¬
ever, he was compelled, it is said, to flee to England for
safety from the persecutions then raging in his native
country against the outlawed Presbyterians, with whom he
at that early age seems to have associated. He found re¬
fuge in the house of a maternal relative in Bristol, who,
dying soon alter, left young Paterson some trifling pro¬
perty. Having succeeded as a pedlar, as some would have
it, he took up his residence in London in the capacity of a
merchant. Traces of him are to be found about this time
in the West Indies, some say in the character of a bu-
caneer, but more probably in the capacity of a merchant.
Whether or not this occurred previous to his taking up his
residence in the metropolis, does not definitely appear. At
all events, during his residence abroad he acquired exten¬
sive information respecting Spanish America, which he
found frequent occasion to turn to account, and especially
in connection with the Darien expedition. Much of this
information he could only have obtained through the buca-
neers; yet there is sufficient reason to believe that he was
in no way associated with the exploits of these naval ma¬
rauders. On his return to England, Paterson seems to
have projected schemes of trade more bold and original
than any yet known among the trading companies of Bri¬
tain. He is believed to have contributed largely to the
pages of a pamphlet published ostensibly by his friend Sir
Dalby Thomas in 1690, and entitled An Historical Account
of the Rise and Growth of the West India Colonies, and of
the great advantage they are to England in respect of
Trade. The great ability and strict integrity of Paterson
had by this time gained for him an eminent standing in
society; and his monetary schemes seem to have been lis¬
tened to by the wisest heads in the country. Among his
attached friends he counted Fletcher of Saltoun and Baillie
of Jerviswood, countrymen of his own ; and he was in close
alliance with such eminent men of business as Godfrey and
Sir Theodore Jansen. His financial proposals in connec¬
tion with the founding of the Bank of England met with
strenuous opposition, however, from Lowndes, secretary to
the Treasury. A tract entitled A Brief Account of the
Intended Bank of England, London, 1694 (the year of
its foundation), is supposed to have come from Paterson’s
pen. (For an account of the establishment of this bank, see
Money, § iii.) Despite his eminent services in projecting
the bank, a difference of opinion seems to have soon arisen
between him and the directors, which induced him to resign
his connection with it. It seems certain that, so far from
participating in the foundation of the Bank of Scotland in
1695, he was decidedly opposed to it. The project of “a free
commonwealth in Darien ” had long occupied the thoughts
of this enterprising trader. Even so far back as 1687 we
find him advocating the scheme in the coffee-houses of
Amsterdam. For at least ten years he had been pressing
his plan upon the English minister and upon foreign states;
when about 1695, at the request of certain of his country¬
men, he visited Scotland, and in all probability drew up the
Scottish act of that year constituting the Darien company.
Accordingly “ twelve hundred men sailed in five stout ships”
on that ill-fated expedition from the harbour of Leith, on
PAT
the 26th July 1698; but Paterson had no share in the Pathology
management of it, and embarked with the fleet in the capa- ||
city of a private adventurer. What with the gross mis- Patmos.
management of the council of seven, the opposition of the
English government, and other unfavourable circumstances,
this unfortunate colony came to utter ruin. (See Dakien.)
Paterson’s conduct on his return to Scotland was admirable.
He set vigorously to work to frame a new plan for the
colony; and wrote in 1701 an interesting work, hitherto
attributed to the notorious John Law, entitled Proposals
and Reasons for constituting a Council of Trade. On his
return to London in 1701, he met with a friendly reception
from King William ; but the death of that monarch, shortly
afterwards, cast a temporary cloud over Paterson’s future
prospects. He had an important share in the union of the
English and Scottish Parliaments, as able tracts from his pen
still attest; he was unremitting in his endeavours to relieve
the distress of his native country ; he had a sharp contro¬
versy with John Law on paper-money; and was elected
member of Parliament for Dumfries in 1 708. At the treaty
of Union, an indemnity in favour of Paterson was recom¬
mended to Queen Anne by the Scottish Parliament, in con¬
sideration of his losses in connection with the Darien com¬
pany, and of his “ carrying on other matters of a public
nature, much to his country’s service.” George I. had
ascended the throne, however, before this indemnity was
gained. The remainder of his years were spent at West¬
minster, in the metropolis, in unavailing hostility to the
ruinous schemes of his relative and old financial foe John
Law. Paterson died in January 1719. (See William
Paterson, the Merchant Statesman, and Founder of the
Bank of England, his Life and Trials, by S. Bannister,
Edinburgh, 1858. Paterson’s biographer, who has in¬
dustriously collected all available information regarding
him, also advertises The Writings of William Paterson,
with a Biographical Introduction, 2 vols. 8vo, 1858.)
PATHOLOGY (Trdtfov, suffering or disease, and /Yoyos,
a discourse) is properly, and in its widest sense, the science
of disease. It is usually divided by scientific men into ge¬
neral and special pathology. The former includes, first, the
more general principles relative to the primary elements of
disease, including the various phenomena and causes of
those derangements to which the animal economy is sub¬
ject ; and, second, the general facts or principles relative to
the more obvious analogies of disease, derived from a com¬
parative view of particular diseases. The latter or special
division of pathology comprehends the consideration of par¬
ticular diseases as they occur in nature. The French di¬
vide pathology into external and internal, employing those
terms in a sense synonymous with what English writers
usually call the principles and practice of surgery and phy¬
sic. From whatever point of view, however, we regard the
derangements of the animal frame, the objects of investiga¬
tion are precisely the same. There are, first, the morbid
phenomena symptomatic of derangement; second, the mor¬
bific agents by which derangements of the economy are
liable to be produced; third, the more immediate seats,
and the peculiar nature of each, of those derangements to
which the system is liable; send, fourth, the morhid changes
discoverable after death, whether as cause or as effect of
certain derangements of functions known to exist during life.
In short, pathology has for its bases the observation of the
circumstances that precede a disease, of its symptoms when
present, and especially the examination of the body after
death. (See Medicine, and Physiology.)
PATIBULUM. See Fukca.
PATMOS, one of the group of islands in the ASgean
Sea which were called the Sporades, was situated to the
south of Samos. Ancient writers represent it to have been
about 30 Roman miles in circumference, and to have had
a sea-port town of the same name as itself. It is celebrated
PAT
Patna, as the place where the apostle John endured banishment,
and where he wrote the Apocalypse. The credulous point
out a cave in which he is said to have sat while the heavenly
visions passed before the eye of his imagination.
PATNA, a town of British India, capital of a district of
the same name, in the presidency of Bengal, stands on the
right bank of the Ganges, 10 miles E. of Dinapore, 157 E.
of Benares, and 377 N.W. of Calcutta. The city and
suburbs extend along the river to the length of 9 miles,
and inland for about 2 miles; but the city itself, which is
of a rectangular form and surrounded with walls, is only
about a mile and a half in length, by three-quarters of a
mile in breadth. When viewed from the water, the ap¬
pearance of Patna is very beautiful, as there are then seen
many large and handsome houses with flat roofs and carved
balustrades, numerous temples and mosques, Saracenic
arches and ancient towers; while many ghats, or flights of
stairs, lead down to the Ganges -, and in the background a
range of heights closes in the view. There is one princi¬
pal thoroughfare extending parallel to the river, between
two gates in the eastern and western walls. This street is
wide, though neither straight nor regular; but the other
streets and lanes are very narrow and crooked. The better
class of houses are built of brick, and have flat roofs and
balconies; but a great number consist of little better than
mud, and are covered with tiles or thatch. There are nu¬
merous mosques in the city, but the majority of them are
treated with so little reverence or care, that they are used as
warehouses,—a fate from which even the principal mosque,
though a handsome building, is not exempt. The chief
place of Mohammedan worship is in the west suburb, where
vast multitudes of Mussulmans frequently congregate. In
the same suburb are the residences of the Europeans, for
the most part along the river’s bank, but they are neither
many in number nor splendid in appearance. A peniten¬
tiary and house of correction have recently been erected
within the city; and there is also a school where the English
language and literature, history and mathematics, are
taught. The eastern suburb contains the principal market¬
place and several granaries. The manufactures of Patna
are neither extensive nor important; but the bazaars are
well supplied with domestic and foreign goods; and some
trade is carried on in rice, opium, wheat, indigo, saltpetre,
sugar, &c. During the summer the heat is very great, as
the sun’s rays are reflected from a bare and sandy island
opposite the town. Patna is a place of great antiquity. Its
old Sanscrit name was Pataliputra, and it is supposed to
be the place mentioned by Greek and Roman writers
under the name of Palimbothra. It was visited by Megas-
thenes, who went as an ambassador from Seleucus Nicator
to Sandracottus, and who afterwards wrote an account of
India. It is said to have been then 80 stadia in length and
15 in breadth, and surrounded with a stockade and ditch.
It seems to have been at this time the capital of an inde¬
pendent state, but subsequently it formed part of the king¬
dom of Kunnouj, which was in early times one of the most
powerful nations of India. In 1194 a.d. this kingdom was
conquered and annexed to the empire of Delhi, of which
Patna, along with the rest of Bengal and Behar, thence¬
forward formed a part. Factories were established here at
an early period by the British, and a trade was carried on
in rice and opium. In 1763 disputes began to arise be¬
tween Meer Cossim, the nawaub of Bengal and Behar, and
the servants of the East India Company, about the transit-
dues levied on native traders, from which the English
claimed exemption. The nawaub for some time refused to
accede to these demands ; but finally he entirely abolished
all the imposts both on British and native goods, a step
which was not desired by the Company, and which must
have greatly diminished his revenues. In revenge for this
injury, he proceeded in various ways to annoy the British ;
PAT 341
and at length went so far as to seize some of their boats on Patna
the Ganges. On this, Mr Ellis, the chief of the factory at ||
Patna, made an attack on the city, and took possession of Patras-
it, although Meer Cossim soon afterwards recovered it, and
forced the British to take refuge in the factory. For four
months hostilities continued between the two parties, in
the course of which the nawaub was several times defeated,
until he became so exasperated at the loss of the city of
Monghyr, that he ordered the murder in cold blood of 200
prisoners. The grave of these prisoners is marked by a
column in the city. On the 6th of November in the same
year Patna was taken by the British; and in May 1764
Meer Cossim’s troops were totally defeated under the walls.
Since that time the place has remained undisturbed in the
hands of the British. Pop. stated at 284,132.
Patna, a district of British India, deriving its name
from the above town, is bounded on the N. by the districts
of Sarun, Tirhoot, and Monghyr; E. by that of Monghyr ;
S. by those of Monghyr and Behar; and W. by that of
Shahabad; and extends from N. Lat. 25. 3. to 25. 38., E.
Long. 84. 45. to 86. 10. Length, from E. to W., 85 miles;
breadth, 45; area, 1828 square miles. The Ganges flows
along its northern frontier ; and the Son, a tributary of that
river, forms the western boundary for a considerable dis¬
tance. The chief of the other rivers are the Poonpoon
and the Lesser Poonpoon ; but during the rainy seasons the
whole country is intersected with streams. The soil is
very fertile and well cultivated : rice, wheat, and barley are
grown in abundance; and many groves and orchards di¬
versify the aspect of the country. The climate is very hot
in summer, but the winters are mild. The district is
traversed by the East India Railway, and by several roads.
Pop. 1,200,000.
PATRAS (anciently Patrce), a fortified town of Greece,
capital of the monarchy of Achaia and Elis, stands on the
E. side of the gulf of the same name, near the entrance of
that of Corinth, 10 miles S.S.W. of Lepanto. It is built
partly on a plain and partly on the slope of a hill, on the
summit of which stands a castle. The principal streets are
broad, straight, and regular; and many of the houses are
large, well-built, and surrounded with gardens, but they
are generally but of one storey high, on account of the fre¬
quency of earthquakes. The only important buildings be¬
sides the castle, which is very strong, are the barracks,
military hospital, and churches. An active trade is carried
on with the Ionian Islands, Italy, Marseilles, &c.; the chief .
exports being corn, wine, oil, currants, and other fruits;
silk, cotton, wool, &c. The number of vessels that cleared
from the port in 1854 was 439; tonnage, 34,616; value
of cargoes, L.100,570: in 1855,—vessels, 609; tonnage,
53,684 ; value of cargoes, L.251,994. The number of ves-
sels that entered in 1854 was 443; tonnage, 52,573; value of
cargoes, L.64,002: in 1855,—vessels, 571; tonnage, 42,914;
value of cargoes, L.123,828. The harbour is not safe,
being exposed to a heavy sea; but there is a mole at some
distance from the town, where vessels can lie close to the
wharf. The ancient Patrae was founded by the lonians ;
and on their expulsion from the Peloponnese, was occupied
by the Achaeans, from one of whom, called Patreus, it is
said to have derived its name. In the Peloponnesian war
Patrae embraced the side of the Athenians; and, on the
advice of Alcibiades, the city and port were connected by
walls. It afterwards was one of the cities of the Achaean
League, but remained comparatively insignificant till the
time&of Augustus. That monarch, after the battle of Ac-
tium, made Patrae a Roman colony, and gave it the do¬
minion over the neighbouring towns. In the time of Pau-
sanias the town contained a theatre, music-hall, numerous
temples, and other buildings. Patrae was a dukedom under
the Byzantine empire, but was sold to the Venetians in
1408, and taken by the Turks in 1446, who, though the
342 PAT
Patriarch Venetians recovered it for a short time in 1533, continued
Patricians.to ^ ^ t^e ^reek revolution. The war wliich then
v to°^ P^ace considerably injured the prosperity of the town.
The citadel was held for a long time by the Turks, who,
after repeated assaults of the Greeks, at length capitulated
in 1828. Since that period it has recovered much of its
former prosperity, and is now the most important town in
the Morea. Pop, 10,000.
PA1 RIARCH (-ircLTrjp, a father, and ap^w, I govern) is
a title applied to the heads of families in early history,
and especially to the ancestors of the Israelites from Adam
to Jacob, and to his twelve sons in particular. The name
was kept up among the Jews after the dispersion ; and
Hillel the Babylonian is said to have been the first of the
Jeivish patriarchs. The principal business of this class
seems to have been the instruction of the people,
1 he title of Patriarch was also assumed in the Christian
church about the fourth century by the bishops of the
principal cities of the Roman empire, such as Rome, Con¬
stantinople, Alexandria, and Antioch. The patriarchate of
Constantinople swallowed up those of Antioch and Alex¬
andria ; and the Bishop of Constantinople assumed the title
of “ Universal Patriarch.” The Bishop of Rome in turn
bore the name of “ Prince of the Patriarchs and the
struggle which ensued between the two rival ecclesias¬
tics led to the separation of the Eastern and Western
Churches.
PATRICIANS {patricii, from pater, a father) was the
name given among the Romans to the original gentes, of
which the populus Romanus was composed, or to their
descendants by blood or adoption. Patricii and patres
were originally convertible terms, and have essentially the
same meaning. During the period of Roman history ex¬
tending from the building of the city to the formation of
the plehs as a distinct order of citizenship, Niebuhr has
satisfactorily shown that the patricians and \\\q populus Ro¬
manus were in point of fact identical. The earlier inha¬
bitants of the places occupied by the sovereign people
were reduced to a state of servitude, and are known by the
names cliens and plehs ; but the conquering race were all
regarded as patricians or burghers, from whom a select body
of senators was chosen as their representatives. The amal¬
gamation of the Latin, Sabine, and Etruscan tribes gradu¬
ally gave rise to the distinction oipatres majarum gentium
and patres minorum gentium, the latter epithet being em¬
ployed to designate those recently elevated to a rank of
equality with the old privileged patrician class forming the
populus Romanus. The one class was created by Romulus,
the other by Tarquinius Priscus, During this period every
Roman citizen was a patrician, and, in contrast with the
client beneath him, an aristocrat.
The aristocracy was not certainly exclusive in those days,
when every citizen could claim the honour; but in the
succeeding period, dating from the creation of the plebeian
order to the reign of Constantine, the patricians became a
genuine aristocracy of birth. The sovereign people no
longer consisted exclusively of the patricians, but of the
populus (or patricians) and the plebs. In course of time,
however, this distinction well nigh ceased; and the term
populus came to denote the entire body of Roman citizens,
including both patricians and plebeians. During the reign,
again, of the Antonines, the patricians were not included
under the populus, but formed an exclusive aristocratic
class, which no power could degrade to the plebeian level,
except the free-will of the patrician himself. The first
centuries of this period witnessed a constant struggle for
ascendancy between the patricians and plebeians. The
former class strove to monopolize all the great offices, both
civil and religious, of the nation. In this they generally
succeeded ; but the upshot of the contest was the establish¬
ment of the political equality of the two rival orders, and
PAT
the consequent partition of the political and religious honours Patrick st
of the state. || ’
From the reign of Constantine downwards, the patrician Patricl<,
dignity ceased to be hereditary, and became an exclusively Simon-
personal distinction, bestowed irrespectively on those indi-
viduals who had done the emperor or the empire good
service. Old Roman families could claim no share, as
such, in the new patrician dignity created at Constantinople.
It elevated the individuals honoured with it to the highest
rank in the state next to the consuls ; and, unlike the old
Roman order, the modern patricians were distinguished from
the ordinary citizens by their dress and equipage. The
honour was not hereditary, however, and was but warily
bestowed by the emperors.
In this, as in other matters, the Popes, when they came
to power, imitated the imperial right of temporal sovereigns
in bestowing the patrician rank on persons deemed worthy
of the distinction. In several European kingdoms also the
sovereigns imitated the ancient custom of honouring certain
distinguished subjects with the title otpatricius. In certain
parts of Italy, the term patrician is still applied to the here¬
ditary nobility. (See Niebuhr’s History of Rome, vol. ii.;
Becker’s Handbuch der Rom. Alterth., vol. ii.; Ersch und
Gruber’s Encyclopadie, v. “ PatricierSmith’s Diet, of
Gr. and Rom. Antiquities ; and Adam’s Roman Antiqui¬
ties^
PATRICK, St, the apostle and the second bishop of
Ireland, is supposed to have been born on the 5th of April
373, of a good family, at Kirkpatrick, near Dumbarton in
Scotland. During some inroad of certain exiles from Ire¬
land he was taken prisoner, and carried into that kingdom.
After serving there for six years, and making himself master
of the Irish language, he effected his escape, and returned
home. It was about two years afterwards that he formed
the design of converting the Irish. Repairing to the Con¬
tinent to qualify himself for this undertaking, he studied
under his mother’s uncle, St Martin, Bishop of Tours, who
ordained him deacon, and under St German, Bishop of
Auxerre, who ordained him priest. Pope Celestine then
consecrated him bishop, changed his name into Patricius
or Patrick, and gave him a commission to evangelize the
Irish. The new apostle reached his destination in 432,
and landing, as some suppose, at Wicklow, proceeded to
convert and baptize the natives. After labouring seven
years indefatigably in this great work, he returned to Britain,
which he delivered from the heresies of Pelagius and Arius.
He then visited the Isle of Man, which he converted in
440. His return to Ireland took place in 448 ; and in
thirteen years more the conversion of the whole island was
completed. The remainder of his career was spent in su¬
perintending the monasteries of Armagh and Saul, which
he had founded. After having established schools and an
academy, he closed his life, in the 120th year of his age, in
493, and was buried at Down (now Downpatrick), in the
same grave with St Bridget and St Columba. The genuine
\\ orks of St Patrick were collected and printed by Sir James
Ware, 1656. There are no fewer than seven lives of the
Irish apostle published in Colgan’s Acta Triadis Thauma-
t urgee. (See also Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland, by the
Four Masters, edited by O’Donovan, Dublin, 1851.)
Patrick, St, Order of an institution of knighthood,
founded in Ireland by Geo. III. on February 5, 1783.
“ The most illustrious Order of St Patrick” consists of the
sovereign, a grand master (viz., the lord-lieutenant for
the time being), and twenty-two knights.
Patrick, Simon, a learned English bishop, and author
of a number of useful works in practical divinity, was born
at Gainsborough in Lincolnshire in 1626. He entered
Queen’s College, Cambridge, in 1644; and after taking
orders, he became successively chaplain to Sir Walter St
John, and vicar of the church at Battersea in Surrey. Lie
PAT
Patroclus was afterwards preferred to the rectory of St Paul’s, Covent
II Garden, London, where he continued during the plague
Patron. 0p ]505 amongst his parishioners. In 1668 he pub-
lished his Friendly Debate between a Conformist and
a Nonconformist. This was answered by the dissenters,
whom he had much exasperated ; but by his moderation
and candour towards them afterwards, they were greatly
reconciled to him; and he is said to have gained over many
of them to the communion of the Established Church. He
was made dean of Peterborough in 1678, bishop of Chi¬
chester in 1689, and bishop of Ely in 1691. In 1689 he
was employed, with others of the new bishops, to settle the
affairs of the church in Ireland. He died in 1707.
Bishop Patrick’s sermons and devotional writings are very
numerous. In this species of composition he was considered
one of the happiest authors of his time ; and his writings are
still esteemed by pious Christians. His Commentary on the
Historical and Poetical Books of the Old Testament, 14
vols. 4to and 8vo, London, 1695, &c., is the result of ex¬
tensive reading, and, without being highly critical, continues
to be one of the best in the language for practical purposes.
He proceeded no farther than the Song of Solomon ; and
the commentaries of Lowth, Arnald, Whitby, and Lowman
are generally added to complete the work. (See a new
edition, with the text printed at large, in 4 vols. imp. 8vo,
1853.) His works have never been published in a col¬
lected form ; but a complete list of them will be found in
Darling’s Cyclopcedia Biblioyraphica, London, 1854. An
autobiography of the bishop appeared at Oxford in 18mo,
1839.
PATROCLUS, a Grecian chief, was the son of Mence-
tius of Opus. His fame was chiefly owing to his intimate
connection with Achilles. He was first the playmate of the
rising hero at the court of Phthia. Then, actuated by pure
motives of affection, he became his companion in arms at
the siege of Troy. He slept in his tent at night, he fought
at his side during the day, and when the great champion
absented himself from the field in a fit of peevishness, the
inseparable friend stayed at home to keep him company.
Nor was this connection severed by the approach of death.
Patroclus received his fatal wound from Hector in the ar¬
mour of Achilles ; his tomb was soon re-opened to receive
the ashes of “ great Thetis’ son and the two are said to
have met each other and renewed their friendship in the
lower world.
PATROL, in war, a round or march made by the
guards or watch in the night-time, to observe what passes
in the streets, and to secure the peace and tranquillity of a
city or camp. The patrol generally consists of a body of
five or six men, detached from a body on guard, and com¬
manded by a serjeant.
PATRON (patronus, from pater, a father) was an ap¬
pellation given by the Romans to a master who had freed
his slave. As soon as the relation of master and slave ex¬
pired, that of patron and freedman (libertus) began. The
connection, as the name implies, was something analogous
to that of father and son. The Romans, in giving their
slaves their freedom, did not despoil themselves of all rights
and privileges in those manumitted ; the law still subjected
them to considerable services and duties towards their pa¬
trons, the neglect of which was very severely punished.
The most important part, however, of the relation between
the patronus and the libertus was the right of the former, in
certain cases, to the whole or part of the property of his
freedman at his death. The libertus was also regarded as
the cliens of his patron. (See Client.) Patrona was
the name borne by a female who had a freedwoman (liberta);
but the laws regulating their connection differed in some
points from those affecting the patronus and libertus.
Any Roman citizen desirous of a protector might at¬
tach himself, as client, to any patron he chose. Patron was
EAT 343
thus not necessarily limited to the relation of patron and Patron
freedman. The patron and client were mutually attached II
and mutually obliged to each other ; and by this means, in Patti’
consequence of reciprocal ties, all those seditions, jealousies,
and animosities, which were sometimes the effect of a dif¬
ference of rank, were prudently avoided. For it was the
duty of the patron to advise his clients in points of law, to
manage their suits, to take care of them as of his own
children, and secure their peace and happiness. The clients
were to assist their patrons with money on several occasions;
to ransom them or their children when taken in war; to
contribute to the portions of their daughters ; and to defray,
in part, the charges of their public employments. The
patron and client were never to accuse each other, or take
contrary sides ; and if either of them was convicted of hav¬
ing violated this law, the crime was equal to that of treason,
and any one was allowed to kill the offender with impunity.
This patronage was a tie as effectual as any consanguinity
or alliance, and had a wonderful effect towards maintaining
union and concord amongst the people for the space of six
hundred years, during which time we find few dissensions
or jealousies between the patrons and their clients, even in
the times of the republic, when the populace frequently
mutinied against those who were most powerful in the city.
Patron, in the Church of Rome, a saint whose name a
person bears, or under whose protection he is placed, and
whom he takes particular care to invoke; or a saint in
whose name a church or order is founded.
PATRONYMIC (Traryp, a father, and bvopa, a name)
signifies properly a name taken from one’s father, and is
applied by grammarians to such names of men or women
as are derived from those of parents or ancestors. Patro¬
nymics are derived from the father, as Pelides,—that is,
Achilles, the son of Peleus; or from the mother, as Phily-
rides,—that is, Chiron, the son of Philyra; or from the grand¬
father on the father’s side, as ACacides, or Achilles, the grand¬
son of Abacus; or from the grandfather by the mother’s
side, as Atlantiades, Mercury, the grandson of Atlas; or,
lastly, from the kings and founders of nations, as Romu-
lidae, the Romans, so called from their founder King Ro¬
mulus. The terminations of Greek and Latin patronymics
are chiefly four,—viz., des, of which we have already given
examples ; as, as Thaumantias,—that is, Iris, the daughter
of Thaumas ; is, as Atlantis,—that is, Electra, the daughter
of Atlas ; and ne, as Nerine, the daughter of Nereus. Of
these terminations, des is masculine, and as, is, and ne are
feminine ; des and ne are of the first declension, as and is
of the third. In Greek, and particularly in Sanscrit, patro¬
nymics are very numerous. I here are very few patro¬
nymics in English, and those are chiefly of Celtic origin, as
names formed by the addition of Mac or of O. The ter¬
mination son (as Johnson) is also a frequent mode of
formintr patronymics in English names. English patro¬
nymics are, however, already fixed, and are no longer in
process of formation. . , j it
PATTA or Pata, a town of Africa, on an island oft the
E. coast, in’ S. Eat. 2. 8., E. Long. 41. It is separated
from the mainland by a narrow channel, navigable only tor
boats; and seems to have been formerly a much more im¬
portant place than at present. It is composed of scattered
huts of an oblong form, built of stakes and reeds plastered
over with mud. The Portuguese formerly built a castle
here; but they were driven out by the natives, who sub¬
sequently became subjects of the Imam of Muscat. They
wear long white garments and white embroidered turbans,
and are armed with sabres and daggers. A considerable
coasting trade is carried on. Pop. about 4000.
PATTI, a town of Sicily, province of Messina, on the
northern coast of the island, 15 miles S.W. of Melazzo, and
33 W.S.W. of Messina. It is well built, with broad and
regular streets ; and contains a cathedral, the ruins of a fine
344 P A U
Pau abbey, and a house of refuge. Earthenware is made here;
Paul anC hs im» is carried on. Pop. 6000.
v , , i _ PAU, a town of France, capital of the department of
Lower Pyrenees, stands on a ridge of hills on the right
bank of the Gave de Pau, 58 miles E.S.E. of Bayonne,
and 468 S.W. of Paris. Its situation is very beauti¬
ful, as the river has its banks lined with trees, and is
crossed by a picturesque bridge; while the view to the
south is extremely fine, commanding the bold and serrated
range of the Pyrenees, appearing in the distance between
the gaps in the rounded and wooded hills that rise in front.
The town is well and regularly built, having one principal
street, several squares, and public walks. The Place
Royale, near the centre, is planted with trees, and contains
a statue of Henri IV.; the Place de la Comedie is also a
hne square; but the most beautiful public place is the
Parc, a natural terrace shaded with fine trees, which ex¬
tends along the bank of the Gave de Pau. The most re¬
markable building in the town is the castle, a large irre¬
gular structure with five towers, standing at the west end,
overlooking the river. This castle is interesting on account
of its historical associations; for Henri IV. was born here,
and his cradle, consisting of a large tortoise-shell, is still
preserved. The castle was much injured during the first
revolution, when it was used for barracks ; but it was hand¬
somely restored by Louis Philippe, and was for some time
the residence of Abd-el-Kader. There are in Pau, Roman
Catholic and Protestant churches, courts of law, a college,
museum, public library, literary society, and market-house!
The manufactures consist of handkerchiefs, table linen,
carpets, rags, leather, and paper. A considerable trade is
carried on in wine, chestnuts, hams, salt meat, cotton and
woollen goods, &c. Pau is a favourite residence of the
English, especially in winter, on account of the mildness
and dryness of the climate. It is also much resorted to by
the Parisians. Bernadotte, the King of Sweden, as well as
Henri IV., was born here. Pop. (1856) 17,238.
P AUL, originally Saul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, and
author of several portions of the New Testament canon.
I hough a native of Tarsus, a city of Cilicia,1 he was the
son of Jewish parents belonging to the tribe of Benjamin.2
From his father he inherited the rights of Roman citizen¬
ship,3 which had probably been conferred upon some of his
ancestors for some important services rendered to the com¬
monwealth ;4 and it has been conjectured, though with no
great probability, that the cloak and parchments which he
so earnestly charged Timothy to bring with him to Rome
were the Roman toga and the certificates of his citizenship,
which he expected might be of use to him in his anticipated
trial before the emperor. The name Saul which
he received at his birth, and which signifies “ the longed-
for, the desired,” would seem to indicate that he was the
first-born son of his parents, and that his birth was viewed
by them as an answer to prayers ; that he was not, how¬
ever, their only child, is apparent from Acts xxiii. 16, where
mention is made of his “sister’s son.” In the 16th chap¬
ter of the Epistle to the Romans he himself names six
persons whom he styles his cnryyevets; but it has been
questioned whether by that term he intends more than/e/-
loio-countrymen, though the probability is, he uses it in its
proper sense of relations.0 The name Saul was
afterwards dropt, and that of Paul (IlaCXos) constantly used
PAU
both by himself and others. Much difference of opinion
exists as to the relation of these names to each other, and
the reason why the one was dropt and the other retained.
Some think that, as Luke mentions the name Paw/for the
fiist time in connection with the apostle’s interview with
Sergius Paulas (Acts xiii. 9), the apostle assumed that name
out of courtesy to the proconsul; an opinion which, though
suggested by Jerome, and adopted by Bengel, Olshausen
Meyer, and Baumgarten, does not in itself seem very pro¬
bable, and is hardly in keeping with the form of Luke’s
statement, “ Saul, who is also Paul.” Others with greater
probability suppose that the apostle had originally a double
name, the one Hebrew and the other Latin ; and that when
he came to labour chiefly among the Gentiles, he dropt the
former and used only the latter. So Alting, Lightfoot,
Hammond, Wolf, Basnage, Schrader, Winer, De'Wette!
and others. In the judgment of many distinguished scho¬
lars, however, the most probable conjecture is, that the name
Paulus is only a softened form of the Hebrew, Shaool, to accom¬
modate it to western organs, just as we find Jason for Jesus,
Hierosolyma for Yerushalayim, Matthaeus for Mattiyah, Al-
phaeus for Chalpai, and many others; though it must be con¬
fessed that none of these is exactly parallel to the case before us.
His father being of the sect of the Pharisees, probably
devoted him from his infancy to the service of religion ;
and with this view Paul seems to have received such edu¬
cation as appeared most calculated to fit him for the duties
to which he was destined. At that time Tarsus was
eminently distinguished for its cultivators of philosophy,
and every other department in the circle of instruction
((TTrovSrj Trpos re ^iX.o(7o<f)Lav kclI ty]v aWrjv ijKVKXiov obracrav
Traioeiav) ;6 but to what extent the future apostle of Chris¬
tianity was indebted to the labours of such teachers for
his early education no means are left us of judging. It is
probable that his obligations were not very great; for as his
ultimate destination was to the office of an expounder of
the Jewish law and traditions, it does not appear likely that
he would be sent by his parents to occupy himself with the
literature and philosophy of those whom the Jews despised
as outcasts, as well from the light as from the favour of
heaven. At the same time it cannot be denied that his
residence in a city where the study of the liberal sciences
was so assiduously and successfully prosecuted as to place
it upon a par with “ Athens, Alexandria, or any other place
that could be named in which schools and studies are to
be found, 7 must have had a considerable influence in refin¬
ing his taste and liberalizing and expanding his views ; and
he would doubtless here also obtain a familiarity with Greek
as a spoken language which could not but be of use to him
in after-life. It was at Jerusalem, however, the centre of
the Jewish world, that the most important part of his edu¬
cation was received. At an early age, in his twelfth or
fourteenth year, as is supposed,8 he was brought to this city,
and placed under the instruction of Gamaliel, one of the
most famous teachers of Jewish learning at that time.9 Here
he finished his education as a Pharisee, and at the same
time, according to the custom of the Jews, acquired a me¬
chanical art, that of a cr/c^voTroids, which some render “a me¬
chanist;”10 others “a haircloth-maker;”11 others “a maker
of tapestry or carpeting ;” and others, with most apparent
propriety, as in our version, “a tentmaker, or a maker of
tent-cloth.”12 By this he probably supported himself during
4 xxii: *c‘ 2 Philip, iii. 5. 3 Acts xxii. 25-28.
having WnT’ ^ "atives of Tarsus enjoyed the jus civitatis as a birthright, is not supported by evidence. The fact of that city’s
rishtrf K„ Jr. ? (Plin- v- 2?) '“d “y conclusion „ to the possession by it, naive* of the
pful to be a native nZf^ShiP ; ^ A?tS XX1‘ 39’ comPared with xxiL 24> 27> il may be inferred, that as the chief captain knew
6 T nra °f Tars.us’ and yet was ignorant of his Koman citizenship, these two were not necessarily conjoined.
6 a, . .afr’ . eyer’ b ritzsche (who says, “ explicatio populares meos absurda est”), De Wette, &c.
lo YfinVio^Uo r X.1V-jC’, V* 7 Ibid. 8 Greswell’s Dissertations, vol. i., p. 554. 0 Acts xxii
12 “ Persons travemn^-^r11^ Hae.nlein’ Einleit^g, ch. iii., s, 301. 11 Eichhorn, Einleit. iii. 9; Hug. Einleit. ii. 213!
small tents made of leafheVn^wl ’ ^ t0 She,lter themselves from the rain and noxious blasts during the night, carry with them
ther or cloth; and the manufacture of these is a profitable occupation.” (Winer, Bib. liealworterbuch, art. Paulut,
St Paul
PAUL.
St Paul, the time he was engaged in the prosecution of his studies,
V*-' as we know he was in the habit of doing at an after period
whilst engaged as an apostle. How long he abode in Jeru¬
salem at this time, or whether he returned to Tarsus at all
before his conversion, are points on which no certain infor¬
mation can now be obtained. In the history of the early
church, he is introduced to us for the first time1 as “a
young man,”2 whose zeal for the religion of his fathers had
prompted him to assume the character of an active perse¬
cutor of those who had forsaken that religion for the faith
of Christ. On the occasion of the martyrdom of Stephen,
he appears in the capacity of an abettor, and in some re¬
spects a sort of superintendent, of the act; and immediately
after this he, as if rendered more ferocious by the blood he
had assisted in shedding, kindled the flames of a relentless
and unsparing persecution, in which all, without respect of
age or of sex, who had professed the hated religion, were
compelled to blaspheme the name of Jesus, or obliged to
endure the utmost indignities and the most condign punish¬
ments.3 It was whilst engaged in these cruel efforts of a
dark and bigoted zeal that he was made to experience that
extraordinary change of opinion and feeling which gave a
new direction to all his energies, and led him to devote his
life to the advancement of that cause which he at first
deemed it serviceable to God to oppose and destroy. Hav¬
ing obtained from the rulers of his nation a commission to
go to Damascus, in which city the Jews were very nume¬
rous, and where also the new religion had obtained a foot¬
ing, for the purpose apparently of arresting such of the
Christians as had fled to that city, and bringing them back
bound to Jerusalem, he was himself arrested by a higher
power, and made to feel his utter impotency when attempt¬
ing to oppose the cause of Christ. Whilst crossing the
plain to the south of Damascus, about noon-day, and at a
short distance from that city, he was suddenly surrounded
by a miraculous light from heaven, which had the effect of
so paralyzing him, that he fell to the ground, whilst a voice
addressed to him the thrilling question, “ Saul, Saul, why
persecutes! thou me ? ’ In answer to the inquiry which he
made in return, the speaker said, “ I am Jesus of Nazareth,
w'hom thou persecutest; but arise and go into the city, and
it shall be told thee what to do.” Confounded, humbled,
and agitated, he obeyed the heavenly vision ; and as the
brilliancy of the light had obscured his eye-sight, he was
led by his astonished attendants into the city, where he re¬
mained in a state of deep dejection for three days and
nights, during which he tasted neither meat nor drink.
From this painful condition he was relieved by the visit of
a man named Ananias, who, at the command of Christ,
sought him out, welcomed him as a brother, and baptized
him into the profession of Christianity.4
By the majority of Christians this narrative is accepted
1 Acts vii. 58.
2 Nothing decisive, however, can be drawn from this as to Paul’s age at this period, for the word is applied with much inde¬
finiteness to persons of from twenty-four to upwards of thirty years of age. Perhaps his age was about thirty. He would hardly have
been in the confidence of the Sanhedrim had he been younger. J
3 Acts viii. 1-3; xxvi. 10, 11.
4 Acts ix. 1-18. The conversion of such a man, at such a time, and by such means, furnishes one of the most complete proofs that
have ever been given of the divine origin of our holy religion. That Saul, from being a zealous persecutor of the disciples of Christ,
became all at once a disciple himself, is a fact which cannot be controverted without overturning the credit of all history. He must
therefore have been converted in the miraculous manner in which he himself said he was, and of course the Christian religion be a
Divine revelation ; or he must have been either an impostor, an enthusiast, or a dupe to the fraud of others. There is not another alter-
native possible.^ The following is the substance of Lord Lyttleton’s argument on this subject.
If he was an impostor, who declared what he knew to be false, he must have been induced to act that part by some motive. But the
on y conceiva e motives for religious imposture are, the hopes of advancing one’s temporal interest, credit, or power ; or the prospect
of gratifying some passion or appetite under the authority of the new religion. That none of these could be St Paul’s motive for pro-
essing e ait o C rist ci ucified, is plain from the state of Judaism and Christianity at the period of his forsaking the former and
em racing t e after aith. those whom he left were the disposers of wealth, of dignity, of power, in Judea ; those to whom he went
were in igen men, oppressed, destitute of all means of improving their fortunes. The certain consequence, therefore, of his taking the
Par ° . ,ris iaiil 1 no^ only of all he possessed, but of all hopes of acquiring more; whereas, by continuing to persecute
• u f J18 lans’ e ad hopes, rising almost to a certainty, pf making his fortune by the favour of those who were at the head of the Jew-
is s a e; to w om nothing could so much recommend him as the zeal which he had shown in that persecution. As to credit or reputa-
tion, could the scholar of Gamaliel hope to gain either by becoming a teacher in a college of fisherman ? Could he flatter himself that
e octiines which he taught would, either in or out of Judea, do him honour, when he knew that “ they were to the Jews a stumbling-
oc , and to the Greeks foolishness ? ” \Y as it, then, the love of power that induced him to make this great change ? Power ! over
w om . over a flock of sheep whom he himself had assisted to destroy, and whose very Shepherd had lately been murdered ? Perhaps
i was with the view of gratifying some licentious passion, under the authority of the new religion, that he commenced a teacher of
t at religion. This cannot be alleged; for his writings breathe nothing but the strictest morality, obedience to magistrates, order, and
government, with the utmost abhorrence of all licentiousness, idleness, or loose behaviour, under the cloak of religion. We nowhere
read in his works that saints are above moral ordinances; that dominion is founded in grace; that monarchy is despotism which ought
o be abolished; that the fortunes of the rich ought to be divided amongst the poor; that there is no difference in moral actions; that
any impulses of the mind are to direct us against the light of our reason and the laws of nature; or any of those wicked tenets by which
the peace of society has been often disturbed, and the rules of morality often broken, by men pretending to act under the sanction of
divine revelation. He makes no distinctions, like the impostor of Arabia, in favour of himself; nor does any part of his life, either be¬
fore or after his conversion to Christianity, bear any mark of a libertine disposition. As amongst the Jews, so amongst the Christians,
his conversation and manners were blameless. It has been sometimes objected to the other apostles, by those who were resolved not to
credit their testimony, that naving been deeply engaged with Jesus during his life, they were obliged, for the support of their own
credit, and from having gone too far to return, to continue the same professions after his death: but this can by no means be said of St
1 aul. On the contrary, whatever force there may be in that way of reasoning, it all tends to convince us that St Paul must naturally
have continued a Jew, and an enemy to Christ Jesus. If they were engaged on one side, he was as strongly engaged on the other. If
shame withheld them from changing sides, much more ought it to have stopped him, who, from his superior education, must have been
vastly more sensible to that kind of shame than the mean and illiterate fishermen of Galilee. The only other difference was, that they,
^al.ttlng the.ir Master after his death, might have preserved themselves; whereas he, by quitting the Jews, and taking up the cross
ot Christ certainly brought on his own destruction.
As St Paul was not an imposter, so it is plain he was not an enthusiast. Heat of temper, melancholy, ignorance, and vanity, are the
ingredients of which enthusiasm is composed; but from all these, except the first, the apostle appears to have been wholly free. That
he had. great fervour of zeal, both when a Jew and when a Christian, in maintaining what he thought to be right, cannot be denied ; but
he was at all times so much master of his temper as, in matters of indifference, to “become all things to all men,” with the most pliant
comlescension bending his notions and manners to theirs as far as his duty to God would permit; a conduct compatible neither with the
s illness of a bigot nor with the violent impulses of fanatical delusion. That he was not melancholy is plain from his conduct in em-
racing ®very method which prudence could suggest to escape danger and shun persecution, when he could do it without betraying the
°^hls office or the honour of his God. A melancholy enthusiast courts persecution, and when he cannot obtain it, afflicts himself
wi a surd penances; but the holiness of St Paul consisted only in the simplicity of a godly life, and in the unwearied performance of
is apostolical duties. That he was ignorant no man will allege who is not grossly ignorant himself; for he appears to have been master
VOL. XVII. a j a trr ^ ^
34 5
St Paul.
ki/i
346 P A
St Paul, as literally true, the scene being regarded as one of a mira-
culous kind, in which, by supernatural means, a manifesta¬
tion of Jesus Christ was made to Paul. Opposed to this
is the view of those who think that the whole passed in the
mind of the apostle, and was the result either of a Divine
operation exerted on him, or of the mere working of his
own mind under deeply-excited feeling. Of those who
take the latter view, some contend that the sudden light
which shone around the apostle and his companions, and
the sound which they heard and took to be a voice from
heaven, are to be resolved into a sudden flash of lightning
accompanied by thunder, which, by some pre-established
harmony, conveniently took place just as the apostle’s own
reflections had reached the point of overwhelming him with
shame and regret for his past conduct; whilst others regard
all this as the mere drapery in which the story came to be
dressed in the superstitious imaginations of the Christians.
If the historical truth of the narrative is to be denied, the
latter is undoubtedly the preferable hypothesis; for it seems
very absurd to resort to the supposition of a natural pheno¬
menon of which there is no mention, for the purpose of sav¬
ing the historical character of the narrative in a minor point,
whilst, as regards its principal matter, it is to be rejected as
false. But if this story is a mere myth, how came Paul to
tell it as a fact ? Or how came so simple a matter as the
conversion of a bigoted Jew to Christianity, an event of
which the instances were of almost daily occurrence, to be
invested in the minds of the Christians in this particular
case with so much of supernatural “drapery?” It is evi¬
dent that Paul himself believed the whole transaction to
have happened as it is related by Luke ; for, many years
afterwards, we find him not only repeating the story, but
affirming that his companions were witnesses of the outward
phenomena of the scene (Acts xxii. 6-10). In this case
there is evidently no alternative but to admit the whole as
historical, or to reject the whole as a vain hallucination or
an impudent falsehood.
The first three years after his conversion were spent by
Paul in Arabia,1 where he received, “ by revelation from
Christ,” that doctrine in all its fulness which he afterwards
preached, and where, in solitude and quiet, he was doubt¬
less engaged in training himself for the work in which he
was about to engage. On his return to Damascus, he
openly appeared as a preacher of Christianity, a circum¬
stance which the Jews felt to be so injurious to their cause,
that they sought, by the aid of the governor, who was in
all probability himself a Jew, to put him to death. Having,
by the aid of his Christian brethren, escaped their malice,
he betook himself to Jerusalem, where, after the fears of
the brethren, who remembered his former enmity, but had
U L.
not heard of his subsequent conversion to Christianity, had St Paul,
been removed by the testimony of his friend and companion ''x->v-»-
Barnabas, he was gladly welcomed amongst them, and per¬
mitted to occupy that rank to which Christ had called him.2
Whilst at Jerusalem on this occasion, he fell into a trance
in the temple, and had a vision of Christ, who commanded
him to go forth as the apostle of the Gentiles (Acts xxii.
17-21). It is probably to this that he alludes in 2 Cor.
xii. 1-9, though there are difficulties in the way of this con¬
clusion.3 The enmity of the Jews again compelled him to
change his residence. After being fifteen days in Jeru¬
salem, he went to Caesarea, and thence to his native city
Tarsus, where he abode for several years.4 In the mean¬
time, Christianity, which had hitherto been preached only
to the Jews, had received some adherents from amongst the
Gentiles at Antioch ; and this led to the mission of Bar¬
nabas from Jerusalem, for the purpose of instructing and
regulating the church that had been formed there. Bar¬
nabas, after some time, finding the need of assistance and
counsel, went to Tarsus, and returned with Paul to An¬
tioch, where they abode for a year occupied in united
efforts for the promulgation of Christianity. At the close
of that period, they were sent to Jerusalem by the Chris¬
tians at Antioch with the contributions which had been
made by them on behalf of their brethren in Judea, who
were suffering from the effects of a dearth.5 This was
Paul’s second visit to Jerusalem since his conversion. Af¬
ter some months, they again returned to Antioch, accom¬
panied by John Mark, the nephew of Barnabas. The cause
of Christianity by this time had begun to flourish in that
city, and several persons had been received into the church
who were qualified to act as teachers to the rest. This
rendered it the less necessary that Paul and Barnabas
should remain any longer with them ; and accordingly,
shortly after their return, the church received a special
command from heaven to set them apart to general mis¬
sionary work. In obedience to this command, they were
sent forth ; and, accompanied by John Mark, who, how¬
ever, soon deserted them and returned to Jerusalem, they
visited Seleucia, Cyprus, Perga in Pamphylia, Antioch in
Pisidia, Iconium, Lystra and Derbe, cities of Lycaonia.
At Lystra, in consequence of Paul’s curing a cripple, the
people were on the point of offering him and his companion
divine honours, under the impression that the gods had
come down in the likeness of men, but were restrained by
the vehement expostulations of those for whom these im¬
pious honours were designed ; and in a few days after, they
had so completely changed their minds, that, at the insti¬
gation of the Jews, they stoned Paul, send left him for dead.
Retracing their steps, they returned by way of Attalia, a
not only of the Jewish learning, but also of the Greek philosophy, and to have been very conversant even with the Greek poets. That
he was not credulous is plain from his having resisted the evidence of all the miracles performed on earth by Christ, as well as those
that were afterwards worked by the apostles; to the fame of which, as he lived in Jerusalem, he could not possibly have been a stranger.
And that he was as free from vanity as any man that ever lived may be gathered from all that we see in his writings or know of his life.
He represents himself as the least of the apostles, and not meet to be called an apostle. He says that he is the chief of sinners ; and he
prefers, in the strongest terms, universal benevolence to faith, and prophecy, and miracles, and all the gifts and graces with which he
could be endowed. Is this the language of vanity or enthusiasm ? Did ever fanatic prefer virtue to his own religious opinions, to illu¬
minations of the Spirit, and even to the merit of martyrdom.
Having thus shown that St Paul was neither an impostor nor an enthusiast, it remains only to be inquired whether he was deceived
by the fraud of others ; but this inquiry needs not be long, for who was to deceive him ? A few illiterate fishermen of Galilee ? It was
morally impossible for such men to conceive the thought of turning the most enlightened of their opponents and the most cruel of their
persecutors into an apostle, and to do this by a fraud in the very instant of his greatest fury against them and their Lord. But could
they have been so extravagant as to conceive such a thought, it was physically impossible for them to execute it in the manner in which
we find his conversion to have been effected. Could they produce a light in the air which at mid-day was brighter than the sun ? Could
they make Saul hear words from out of that light which were not heard by the rest of the company ? Could they make him blind for
three days after that vision, and then make scales fall off from his eyes, and restore him to sight by a word ? Or could they make him,
and those who travelled with him, believe that all these things had happened, if they had not happened ? Most unquestionably no fraud
was equal to all this.
Since, then, St Paul was neither an impostor, an enthusiast, nor deceived by the fraud of others, it follows that his conversion was
miraculous, and that the Christian religion is a divine revelation.
1 Galatians i. 11-17. ‘ 2 Acts ix. 20-28.
3 See Meyer on the passage; and Davidson’s Introduction to the New Testament, vol. ii., p. 82.
4 Acts ix. 30. 6 xbid., xi. 22-30.
St Paul.
PAUL.
347
city of Paraphylia, by sea to Antioch, where they rehearsed
to the church all that God had done by them. This
formed the apostle Paul's first great missionary tour.1
After some time spent at Antioch, he and Barnabas again
went up to Jerusalem, for the purpose of consulting the
apostles and elders in regard to some dissensions which had
occurred in the church at Antioch as to the obligation on
Gentile converts of the Mosaic ceremonial. This gave oc¬
casion to the holding of a council at Jerusalem, at which,
after much disputing, it was at length agreed unanimously,
on the suggestion of the apostle James, that they should
lay no stumbling-block in the way of their Gentile brethren,
by requiring of them more than simply that they should
abstain from meats offered to idols, from uncleanness, from
things strangled, and from blood, whether pure or mixed
with anything else. A letter to this effect was written to
the church at Antioch in the name of the church at Jeru¬
salem ; and with this two of the members of this church,
Judas and Silas or Silvanus, were appointed to accompany
Paul and Barnabas to Antioch.2 By these means the differ¬
ence of opinion amongst the brethren was removed, and the
church restored to peace. This led Paul to propose to Bar¬
nabas another missionary tour, to which that faithful fellow-
labourer having consented, they were on the verge of de¬
parture, when an unhappy contention, arising out of a de¬
termination on the part of Barnabas to take with them his
nephew John Mark, a step which Paul firmly resisted on
the ground of Mark’s former conduct in deserting them,
produced a rupture between these two eminent individuals,
and led to their prosecuting a separate course.3 Whilst
Barnabas, in company with his nephew, went to Cyprus,
Paul, attended by Silas, went towards the east, and, passing
through Syria and Cilicia, revisited the scenes of his for¬
mer labours and sufferings in Lycaonia. At Lystra he
found Timothy, a young man, a native of Derbe (Acts xx.
4), who had been probably converted to Christianity on the
occasion of the apostle’s former visit, and who was so highly
commended by the Christians in that district that Paul
selected him as the companion of his travels, having pre¬
viously ordained him by the imposition of hands.4 Ac¬
companied by him and Silas, the apostle next passed through
the region of Phrygia and Galatia, and avoiding Asia strictly
so called, which he was forbidden by the Holy Spirit to
enter, as well as Bithynia, they came by way of Mysia to
Troas, a city and port on the borders of the Hellespont.
Here he was directed by an apparition in a vision to go into
Macedonia; and accordingly, with his companions, having
crossed to Samothracia, and thence to Neapolis, a seaport
of Thrace, he arrived in due course at Philippi. Here they
remained for some time, and made many converts ; amongst
others, the jailor of the prison into which Paul and Silas
had been thrust after having been scourged, in consequence
of a charge which had been brought against them as dis¬
turbers of the peace of the city, by a set of imposters whose
trade they had destroyed by expelling an evil spirit from a
female slave who brought them much gain by her skill in
soothsaying. From Philippi they passed through Amphi-
polis and Apollonia, cities of Macedonia, to Thessalonica,
where, though they abode only a short time, they preached
the gospel with great success. A tumult having arisen at
the instigation of the Jews, the Christian converts, fearing
for their safety, sent them by night to Berea, another city
of Macedonia, about 40 miles west of Thessalonica, where
they were favourably received by their Jewish brethren,
until a party which had followed them from Thessalonica
stirred up a persecution against them. This determined
Paul to go to Athens, whilst Timothy and Silas, as less ob¬
noxious to the Jews, remained at Berea. It does not ap¬
pear to have been the apostle’s intention in the first in¬
stance in visiting Athens to preach the gospel there, at
least until Timothy and Silas, to whom he had sent a mes¬
sage on his arrival, requiring them to join him, should have
arrived; but as he waited for them, the sight of a city like
that of Athens, entirely given to idolatry, so stirred and ex¬
cited his spirit that he could no longer refrain ; and accord¬
ingly, in the synagogues he disputed with the Jews, and
in the market-place with such as he met. This led to his
coming into contact with certain Stoic and Epicurean phi¬
losophers, by whom he was contemptuously invited to un¬
fold his new doctrines, and describe the strange deities of
which they supposed him to be the votary; and for this
purpose he was taken to the Areopagus, where, with admir¬
able tact, he exposed the follies of their idolatry, and com¬
mended to them the worship of the one living and true God,
in the midst of a large assemblage of people, on some of
whom a favourable impression was produced by his address.5
Having been joined by Timothy,6 and in all probability
by Silas also,7 he sent the former again to Macedonia, and
either retaining the latter in his company, or despatching
him to some other quarter, he himself passed over to Co¬
rinth.8 On the occasion of this his first visit to that city,
he supported himself by his labours as a tent-maker, in
company with a pious couple named Aquila and Priscilla,
who had taken refuge in Corinth after having been expelled
from Rome by an edict of Claudius Csesar against the Jews ;
and at the same time he availed himself of every oppor¬
tunity of urging the gospel of Christ upon the acceptance
both of Jews and Greeks. Here he was rejoined by Silas
and Timothy, with whom he continued a year and a half in
active exertion for the advancement of Christianity. By
the persevering enmity of his former opponents the Jews,
he was again compelled to leave Corinth, and betake him¬
self, along with Aquila and Priscilla, to Ephesus. Here he
abode at this time only a few days, having been commis¬
sioned by a divine revelation to go up to Jerusalem in time
for the approaching feast of the passover. By some this,
the apostle’s fourth visit to Jerusalem after his conversion,
is made to synchronize with that mentioned by himself in
Gal. ii. 1. In this case we must suppose that his former
friendship with Barnabas had been re-established, as he
mentions him and Titus as his companions on this journey.
This opinion, however, is opposed by many, who think that
the visit mentioned in the Epistle to the Galatians happened
at an earlier period, and was the apostle’s third visit. After
a brief residence in Jerusalem on this occasion, he returned
to Antioch; and so finished his second great apostolic tour.
At Antioch he abode for some time, and then commenced
another extensive tour, accompanied, as is supposed, by
Titus. Passing through Phrygia and Galatia, where he re¬
visited the churches he had formerly planted, he arrived at
Ephesus. This city stood in the same relation to the region
of Hither Asia in which Jerusalem stood to Palestine, An¬
tioch to Syria, Corinth to Achaia, and Rome to the West;
and accordingly the apostle made it his head-quarters for
three years, during which time he was occupied in making
converts in the city, and in paying short visits to the sur¬
rounding places, and to Crete and other islands of the ad-
ioining archipelago. With so much success were his labours
attended in Ephesus, that the revenues of those who were
interested in the support of the idolatrous worship of the
tutelar goddess of the city, Diana, began to be affected; and
at the instigation of one of these, by name Demetrius, a
silversmith, who carried on an extensive manufacture of
miniature representations of the famous temple of Diana at
St Paul.
1 Acts xiii., xiv. 2 Ibid., xv. 1-31.
6 Acts xvi. 17. « ! Thess. Hi. !.
1 Thess. iii. 1, 2, 6, compared with Acts xviii. 5.
3 Ibid., xv. 36-41. * 2 Tim. i. 6.
7 Greswell, vol. ii., pp. 31, 32.
s Acts xviii. 1-22.
i,
Paul. Ephesus, a popular tumult was excited against the apostle,
which was with difficulty appeased by the calm and saga¬
cious conduct of the ypa/xyuaTcus, town-clerk or chamberlain,
who, along with others of the chief men in the place, seems
to have been friendly towards Paul. It was not on this oc¬
casion only that the safety of the apostle was endangered
by popular turbulence at Ephesus; he seems to have been
frequently in peril of his life in that city from the fury of the
mob ; and it is to this, in all probability, he alludes when he
says, that “ after the manner of men he had fought with
wild beasts at Ephesus” (1 Cor. xv. 32); a statement which
some have taken literally, but which the majority of in¬
terpreters agree to regard as figurative : “ depugnavit ad
bestias Ephesi, illos scilicet bestias Asiaticae pressurae de qua
in secunda ad eosdem (sc. Corinthios, ch. i. 8.),” &c. (Ter-
tullian, De Resurrect. Carnis, 48.) Whether therefore this
tumult had any effect in quickening the apostle’s determi¬
nation to leave Ephesus may be doubted, especially as it is
clear that he had come to that determination before it
happened.1 By divine direction, he had resolved to go to
Macedonia; and accordingly, shortly after the tumult, he
departed from Ephesus, and went by way of Troas to
Philippi. There he seems to have remained a considerable
while; for, during his residence at Philippi as his head¬
quarters, he preached the gospel in all the surrounding dis¬
tricts, even as far as to Illyricum, on the eastern shore of
the Adriatic.2 Leaving Philippi he paid a second visit to
Corinth, where he abode three months, and then returned
to Philippi, having been frustrated in his intention of pro¬
ceeding through Syria to Jerusalem by the malice of the
Jews. From Philippi he sailed for Troas, where he abode
seven days; thence he journeyed on foot to Assos; and
thence he proceeded by sea to Miletus, having visited seve¬
ral of the intermediate places. At Miletus he had an affect¬
ing interview with the elders of the church at Ephesus, to
whom, in the prospect of seeing them no more, he gave a
solemn and impressive charge, and bade them farewell.
From Miletus he sailed for Syria, and, after visiting several
intermediate ports, landed at Tyre, where he remained seven
days. Thence he journeyed, by way of Ptolemais and
Caesarea, to Jerusalem, which he visited on this occasion for
the fifth time since his conversion.3
At Jerusalem he recounted to the whole church the events
connected with the progress of Christianity of which he
had been witness, and, apparently to quiet the scruples
of some Jewish converts, who thought he had too lax and
incorrect a view of the obligation of the Mosaic ritual, he
united himself, at the suggestion of the apostle James, to
four persons who had taken upon them the vows of Naza-
rites, and, entering with them into the temple, signified to
the priest that he would pay the cost of the sacrifices which
were necessary to absolve them and him from the vow.
Whatever effect this compliance had on the minds of his
scrupulous brethren, it procured for him no mitigation of
the hatred with which he was regarded by the unconverted
Jews. On the contrary, so eager was their zeal against him,
that, before his vow was accomplished, they seized him in
the temple, and would have put him to death had not Ly¬
sias, commander of the Roman cohort in the citadel adjoining
the temple, brought soldiers to his rescue. By his permis¬
sion, and under his protection, Paul addressed to the infu¬
riated mob an apology for himself, in which he set forth the
main circumstances of his life from the beginning up to the
period when he opened his commission to the Gentiles. At
first he was listened to with attention, but as soon as he
spoke of placing the Gentiles on a par with the Jews, they
interrupted him with execrations, and shouted “ away with
such a fellow from the earth, for it is not fit that he should
live. The Roman commander, seeing these demonstra¬
tions of popular resentment, and being ignorant of what
Paul had been saying, from the address having been utter¬
ed in the Hebrew tongue, imagined that he must be some
execrable criminal, and gave orders that he should be
brought into the fort, in order that he might by scourging
compel him to confess his crime. From this indignity Paul
saved himself by asserting his privileges as a Roman citi¬
zen, to bind or scourge whom was strictly forbidden by law.
Next day the chief captain brought him before the Sanhe¬
drim, for the purpose of hearing what it was that was urged
against him; and here Paul again entered into a defence of
his conduct, in the course of which he professed his attach¬
ment to the doctrine of a corporal resurrection, and there¬
by stirred up a fierce controversy between the two parties
composing the Sanhedrim, the Pharisees and the Sadducees,
the former of whom maintained, whilst the latter denied, this
doctrine. So angry and vehement did this discussion be¬
come, that the chief captain, fearing for the safety of his
prisoner, whom, as a Roman citizen, he was bound to pro¬
tect, commanded his soldiers to go down and remove him
from amongst the combatants into the fort. Upon the day
following about forty of the Jews entered into a solemn
engagement neither to eat nor drink until they had killed
Paul, and for this purpose proposed to the chief priests to
invite him to a conference, in the hope that they might
have an opportunity of assaulting him on his way from the
fort. This scheme was rendered abortive by intelligence
of it having been conveyed to Lysias by Paul’s sister’s son,
who, along with his mother, seems to have been an early
convert to Christianity.5 Matters assuming this desperate
aspect, Lysias determined to bring the whole under the
consideration of the procurator; and accordingly, placing
Paul under the protection of a sufficient escort, he sent
him to Caesarea, with a letter to Felix, explaining the rea¬
sons of this step. After five days, Felix held a court, at
which Paul and his accusers were brought together, and
both parties heard at full length. The defence of the
apostle was triumphant; but Felix, unwilling to offend the
Jews, remanded him, under the pretence of obtaining far¬
ther information from Lysias. Some days afterwards, he
summoned him again to his tribunal, in order that he and his
wife Drusilla, who was a daughter of Herod Agrippa, might
hear him “ concerning the faith in Christ;” on which occa¬
sion, the apostle, with all that fearless zeal and faithful¬
ness by which he was distinguished, expostulated so forcibly
with the procurator in regard to those vices for which he
was notorious, that Felix trembled, and hastily dismissed
him from his presence. Shortly after this, Felix was re¬
moved from his office, and was succeeded by Porcius Fes-
tus, before whom the Jews again brought their charges
against Paid. When both parties came to be heard, Paul
perceived so evident a disposition in the new governor to
favour the Jews, that he felt constrained to avail himself of
the privilege which, as a Roman citizen, he possessed, of
removing his cause from the province to the metropolis, by
appealing to the emperor. This led to his being sent to
Rome, but not before he had been again heard by Festus,
attended by King Agrippa and his wife Bernice, by whom
he was adjudged to have done nothing worthy of death or
of bonds, so that he might have been set at liberty had he
not appealed unto Caesar. His voyage to Rome was long
and disastrous.0 After coasting along Syria as far as Sidon,
they struck across to Myra, a port of Lysia, having passed
under Cyprus; thence they sailed slowly towards Cnidus,
and thence, in consequence of the wind being contrary,
Acts xix. 21. 2 Rom. xv< 3 Acts xx. xxi. 15. 4 Acts xxii. 22.
Acts xxiii. 16-22, compared with Rom. xvi. 7, 11, 21.
See the scientific and instructive work of Mr Smith entitled The Voyage and Shipwreck of St Paul, 8vo, 1848.
PAUL.
349
St Paul.
to Crete, where they with difficulty put into a port on the
southern side of that island, called the “ The Fair Haven,”
near the city of Lasea. The season being now far ad¬
vanced, Paul advised the centurion to proceed no farther;
but the place not being suitable for wintering in, and the
weather promising favourably, his advice was disregarded,
and they again set sail, intending to reach Phcenice, a port
in the same island, and there to winter. Scarcely, however,
had they ventured to sea when the apostle’s prediction was
verified; for a boisterous wind arose and drove them at its
mercy across the Mediterranean. In this state they con¬
tinued for fourteen days, at the close of which they were
shipwrecked on the coast of Malta, but without any loss of
life. Here the apostle and his company remained for three
months, during which time he was actively employed in
instructing the inhabitants, and performing many miracles
for their benefit. On the approach of spring, they availed
themselves of a ship of Alexandria that had wintered in the
island, and set sail for Syracuse, where they remained three
days ; thence they crossed to Rhegium ; and thence along
the coast to Puteoli, from which place he journeyed by
land to the imperial city. Here he was delivered by the
centurion, in whose charge he had come from Caesarea, to
the captain of the guard, who, with great lenity, permitted
him to dwell in his own hired house, under the charge of
a soldier.1
The sacred historian closes his narrative by informing us
that Paul continued in this state of easy imprisonment for
“ two years, receiving all that came to him, preaching the
kingdom of God, and teaching those things which concern
the Lord Jesus Christ, with all confidence, no man forbid¬
ding him.” Of the subsequent events of the apostle’s life,
consequently, we have much less direct and certain infor¬
mation ; and from this has arisen much diversity of opinion
on the subject. By many it is supposed that this his first
imprisonment at Rome was his last, and that he perished
in the persecution which Nero excited against the Chris¬
tians by representing them as the agents in the burning of
the city; whilst others contend that he was set at liberty
before that event, and that he set out on another great mis¬
sionary tour to the West, in the course of which he preached
the gospel throughout Spain, and, according to some, in
Britain also ;2 revisited Ephesus and other places in Lesser
Asia, passed over to Crete, returned to Ephesus, passed
through Troas into Macedonia, thence to Nicopolis in
Epirus, Dalmatia in Illyricum, and back again to Asia,
when he was apprehended and conveyed to Rome the second
time, where he suffered martyrdom. By some who hold
this latter opinion the order of places visited is completely
reversed, and Paul is supposed to have commenced his tour
in Asia, and ended it in Spain, whilst others omit Spain
from the itinerary altogether. It would require a much
larger space than this article can be permitted to occupy
to enter into any examination of the arguments and evi¬
dence on both sides of this question. Suffice it to remark,
that, whilst the whole subject is involved in much uncer¬
tainty, and whilst little more than probable conjecture can
be furnished for the details of either hypothesis, the pre¬
ponderance seems to be in favour of the latter. Our readers
will probably be satisfied of this by a reference to what has
been written on it by Greswell and Neander; the former
of whom contends for it with all the zeal of an advocate, st Paul
whilst the latter admits it with all the deliberation of a i ^
cautious and impartial judge.3 4 *
In the above sketch of the principal events of the apos¬
tle’s life no attempt has been made to assign to each its
proper date. This has resulted from the great perplexity
in which this part of the subject is involved, and the con¬
sequent inexpediency of adopting any particular chronology
without assigning the reasons on which it is founded; a
course which would have extended this article greatly be¬
yond its proper bounds. We have deemed it preferable,
therefore, to present, in the first instance, the leading facts
in the history of Paul in the order of their occurrence ; and
shall now furnish a table of the dates assigned to the more
important of these in those systems of chronology which
are most deserving of notice, leaving it with our readers to
consult the works in which they are unfolded for the argu¬
ments by which they are respectively supported.
Paul’s Conversion...
„ 1st visit to
Jerusalem
(Acts ix. 26)
„ 2d do. do. )
(Acts xi.30) j
„ 3d do. do. 1
(Acts xv. 4) J
„ 4th do. do.
(Acts xviii.
22) 
„ 5th do. do.
and appre¬
hension  
„ arrival at Rome
„ liberation.
„ martyrdom
37 or 38
40 or 41
46
47(?)
56
60
63
65 or 68
36
39
44
50
54
58
61
62 or 63
66(?)
38(?)
41
45
51
54
58
60
63
During the brief intervals of comparative ease which the
apostle enjoyed amid his arduous and almost incessant exer¬
tions as a preacher of Christianity, he wrote several trea¬
tises, more or less elaborate, both of a doctrinal and a prac¬
tical nature, in the shape of epistles to different churches.
Of these, thirteen, avowedly of his composition, and one
that is with great probability ascribed to him (the Epistle
to the Hebrews),10 have come down to us; and there is
reason to believe that in these we have the whole of those
compositions which, as an apostle of Jesus Christ, he gave
to the church. It is supposed, indeed, by many distin¬
guished biblical critics, that there is evidence in the first
of his extant epistles to the Corinthians, of his haying writ¬
ten one to that church antecedently to either of these; but
the basis of evidence on which this rests is at best very
slender, and the support which it lends to what is raised on
it very doubtful.11 In what order these epistles were writ¬
ten, and what date is to be assigned to each are points on
which much discussion has been expended. 1 he following
lists present the results of the investigations of Greswell,
Neander, and Alford:
1 Acts xxi. 16 ; xxviii. 31. 2 See Bishop Stillingfleet, Antiquity of the British Churches, vol. Hi., PP- 25-2^ ed. 17 - 0; and others.
3 Greswell’s Dissertations, vol. ii., pp. 78-100 ; Meander’s Geschichte d. Pfianzung und Leitung d. Christhche Kirche, u. s. w., &c., pp.
410-419, 2d ed.; Eng. trans., vol. i., pp. 331-337, Bohn’s edit.
4 Annales Vet. et Nov. Test., &c., Genev. 1722, p. 568. 6 Dissertations, &c., 5 vols^ 1837.
7 Geschichte d. Pflanzung, u. s. w.
6 Einleitung ins, If. T., 3 bde.
Biblischen Eealwdrterhuch, art. “ Paulus.”
* Chronologic des Apostol. Zeitalters, &c.,G'6ti.l8A8. , , ™ . .j. u r ™ • tt.wtV Tn
1° See Stuart’s Commentary on the Hebrews, vol. i.; Forster’s Apostolical Authority of the Epistle to the Hebrews London, 1838 , Hug In¬
troduction, § 145. „ . ,
ii See Blomfield, Recensio Synoptica, and Greek Testament, on 1st Cor. v. 9 ; and a note by the translator of Billroth s Commentary on the
Corinthians (Edinburgh Biblical Cabinet, No. xxi., vol. i., p. 4). On the other side, see De Wette, Meyer, and Alford, on the place.
350 P A U
St Paul. Greswell.
^ 1st Thessalonians 1
2d Thessalonians J    
1st Corinthians   
2d Corinthians 
Galatians  
Romans 
Ephesians  
Colossians..,.,,,  
Philemon   
Philippians    
Hebrews  „ Puteoli 63
Titus    „ Macedonia....64
1st Timothy    „ Nicopolis 65
2d Timothy  „ Rome 66
.from Corinth a.d. 50
. „ Ephesus 55
. „ Macedonia...55
. „ Ditto 55
. ,, Cenchrea 56
. „ Rome 60
. „ Ditto. 60
. „ Ditto 60
. ,, Ditto 60
Neander.
1st Thessalonians 1
2d Thessalonians J
Galatians 
1st Corinthians 
2d Corinthians 
Romans 
Colossians 
Ephesians 
Philemon 
Philippians 
1st Timothy 
Titus 
2d Timothy,  
.from Corinth.
. „ Ephesus,
. „ Ditto.
. „ Macedonia.
. „ Cenchrea.
. ,, Rome.
. „ Ditto.
. „ Ditto.
. „ Ditto.
. „ Macedonia.
. j, Crete.
. „ Rome,
Alford}
1st Thessalonians from Corinth a.d. 52
2d Thessalonians.
Galatians 
1st Corinthians.
2d Corinthians..
Romans 
Ephesians
Philemon 
Colossians 
Philippians 
1st Timothy 
Titus 
2d Timothy 
Ditto 53
Ephesus ..54-57
Ditto 57
Macedonia ...57
Corinth 58
Rome 61-62
Ditto 61-62
Ditto 61-62
Ditto 63
?  66-67
Asia 66-67
Rome 67-68
Neander regards the Epistle to the Hebrews as of un¬
certain authorship, but deems it probable that it was writ¬
ten about the period of the apostle’s martyrdom, by “ some
apostolic man of the Pauline school.”2
In perusing the history and the writings of St Paul, it
is impossible not to be struck with the amazing energy of
thought and action by which he was characterized. The
conception olpower is impressed upon the mind by every
view of his history, and the study of every page of his writ¬
ings, The ease with which he threw off the prejudices of
Judaism, notwithstanding the deep hold which these had
taken of his mind; the rapidity with which he expanded
his thoughts to embrace the vast conceptions unfolded by
the free offers and unbounded claims of Christianity, so dif¬
ferent from the narrow sectarianism of his former religion ;
the accuracy with which he received into his mind, almost
instantaneously, and in all their multiplicity, the mutual
bearings and relations of the old economy and the new;
the dauntless intrepidity w’ith which, from the verv com¬
mencement of his Christian profession, he entered into dis¬
cussion with the advocates of Judaism, and vanquished them
with their own weapons; the unflinching perseverance
with which, in spite of danger, suffering, contumely, perse¬
cution from enemies, ingratitude and desertion from friends,
he prosecuted his arduous and exhausting labours; the
unwearying assiduity with which he watched over the
churches of which he had the care, and the promptitude
P A U
and accuracy wnth which he adopted and executed measures
for their advantage, widely scattered and variously circum¬
stanced though they were; the resistless force of his argu¬
ments, the persuasiveness of his appeals, the keenness of
his irony; all conspire to show that he possessed in a high
degree those capacities for command by which men are
fitted to be the leaders and directors of their fellows in en¬
terprises of importance to the interests of the race. But it
was not by attributes of strength and power alone that the
mind of Paul was characterized. The sternness of these
was relieved and softened by others of a more amiable and
gentle cast. A vein of tenderness and sensibility flowed
through his soul, which, whilst it made him the more sus¬
ceptible of suffering from ingratitude or persecution, ren¬
dered him at the same time gentle and compassionate to
the feelings of others. With all his freedom from Jewish
prejudices, he never lost his reverence for the country and
institutions of his fathers; and with all his zeal for recti¬
tude, and all his firmness in rebuking error, he never for¬
got what was due to the imperfections of his brethren, or
deemed that truth could be made attractive if divorced
from charity. Removed alike from the extremes of fana¬
ticism on the one hand and apathy on the other, his whole
life was a noble instance of the consecration, on sound and
elevated principles, of the highest powers and the most in¬
defatigable energies to a work in which he had no per¬
sonal interest apart from that of his fellow-Christians, and
from the honour which was to accrue from his exertions to
that Master whom it was his high ambition to serve in
life, and his animating expectation to join at death. Apart
altogether from his character as an apostle of Christ, his
labours in the cause of human amelioration entitle him to
veneration as one of the greatest benefactors of the spe¬
cies ; whilst in his peculiar capacity as one of the founders
of the Christian church, and an inspired expositor of di¬
vine truth, he stands without a rival in his claims upon our
gratitude and reverence. His history is a standing evi¬
dence of the truth of our religion ; to his labours we are
indebted mainly for the rapid extension of Christianity both
in the East and in the West; and in his writings are con¬
tained those treasures of heavenly doctrine which it has
been the chosen occupation of some of the greatest minds
of subsequent ages to explore and to unfold. With these
irresistible claims, the more his life, character, and writings
are studied, the deeper will be the veneration in which he
will be held, and the more sincere will be the gratitude of
every pious mind to the Author of all good for having in
so remarkable a manner supplied the church with a teacher
so eminently qualified to advance its best interests, and es¬
tablish, to the end of time, the faith, efficiency, and blessed¬
ness of its members.
(See, besides the works referred to in this article, the
splendid work of Conybeare and Howson, Z,ife and
Epistles of St Paul, with maps, plates, &c., 2 vols. 4to,
London, 1850-52, third edition, 2 vols. 8vo, 1858; Lew-
in’s Life and Epistles of St Paul, 2 vols. 8vo, London,
1851 ; Schrader, Der Apostel Paulus, 5 vols., Leipz., 1829-
36; Hemsen, Per Ap. Paulus, &c., Gott. 1850; Baur,
Paulus der Ap. Jesu Christi, Stuttg. 1845.) (w. L. A.)
Paul of Samosata, a celebrated heresiarch of the third
century, was raised to the see of Antioch in 260 a.d. His
conduct in this high position was marked by an unblushing
attempt to secularize the duties and doctrines of religion.
No sooner had he put on the episcopal robe than he started
on an eager race for the pleasures and honours of this world.
His pastoral authority was exercised to supply food for his
avarice. His sacerdotal character was employed to screen
his sensual indulgence. He trampled on the laws of the
^ Greek New Testament, vols. ii. and iii.
Gesckichte, p. 433, Eng. trans., vol. i., p. 347 ; see also Delitzsch, Commentar turn Br. an die Hehrder, p. 701.
P A U
Paul, church by accepting the secular appointment of ducenarius
procurator. He desecrated his holy office by cringing for
the favour of Zenobia, the unprincipled queen of Palmyra.
In his council-chamber he sat upon a lofty throne, and as¬
sumed the airs of a civil dignitary. In public he rode with
all the pomp and retinue of a prince, and pretended to be
constantly reading petitions and dictating mandates. In the
pulpit he ranted like an actor, and paused at intervals to
invite the plaudits of his congregation. Nor did the worldly-
minded bishop hesitate to extend his sacrilegious innova¬
tions to the most sacred doctrines of the Christian creed.
The Divine Being, he taught, was not a Trinity but a Unity.
The Logos and the Holy Ghost were not persons of the
Godhead, but were parts of the Deity, in the same manner
as reason and spirit are parts of man. The Logos did not
become incarnate in the person of Christ. It descended
to earth, communicated its influence to the man Jesus, and
then re-ascended to heaven. Jesus accordingly was not
God. He only attained to an extraordinary degree of wis¬
dom and virtue, which might entitle him, in a certain sense,
to be called Divine. The flagrant practices, and especially
the erroneous doctrines, of Paul of Samosata, at length
awoke the opposition of the church. An inveterate conflict
took place. His opponents held a council in 264 or 265,
condemned his opinions, and allowed him to hold his see
only on the faith of a promise that he would retract his
heresy. But no sooner had the assembly dispersed than he
broke his promise, and began to teach his old dogmas. His
opponents returned to the charge, convoked another council
in 269, and deposed him from his bishopric. But backed
by the influence of Zenobia, he set this sentence at de¬
fiance, and retained his benefice in the face of the whole
church for no less than three years. At length, however,
in 272, the overthrow of his royal patroness by the Em¬
peror Aurelian brought about his downfall. The settle¬
ment of the controversy was referred by the conqueror to
the bishops of Italy; they sustained the decision of the
council of 269; and Paul of Samosata, expelled from his
see, disappeared into obscurity. There were a few sectaries,
who called themselves, after the name of this heresiarch,
Paulianists. They never became numerous, and in the
fifth century they had fallen out of notice. (NeandePs
Church History^ and Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the
Roman Empire.)
Paul the Deacon (also surnamed, after his father, Warne-
fridus), an eminent historian of the middle ages, was born
about 740 at Cividale {Forum Julii), and completed his edu¬
cation at the court of Rachis, King of the Lombards. Al¬
though he commenced life as a humble deacon of the church
at Aquileia, his learning and accomplishments soon set him
upon a career of distinction. He became notary or secretary
to Desiderius, the last Lombard monarch. His withdrawal
into a cloister, on the overthrow of that prince in 774 by
Charlemagne, did not consign his merits to oblivion. In
no long time the victorious sovereign had summoned him
to take up his abode at the court of France. He was there
employed to teach Greek to the clergymen who had been
selected to conduct the emperor’s daughter Rotrude to
Constantinople to be wedded by the son of the Empress
Irene. Yet, in spite of these high honours, his last days
were spent in obscurity in his native country. He died in
the monastery of Monte Casino about 799. Paul the Dea¬
con left behind him several works. His great work, since
it is the only authority on its subject, is the De Gestis
Longobardorum. It has often been printed, and it is con¬
tained in Muratori’s Rerum Ralicarum Scriptores. His
other works are Gesta Episcoporum Metensium, a Life of
St Gregory the Great, several Latin Hymns and Poems,
and a collection of Homilies for all the Sundays and holidays
in the year. He also appended to the History of Eutropius
a continuation of the narrative down to the reign of Jus-
P A U
351
tinian, which has been continued in turn by another writer. Paul I.
and which is now known under the name of Historia 11
Miscella. Paul, St.
Paul I., Pope, succeeded Stephen II. in 757, and died
in 767.
Paul II., Pope, whose original name was Pietro Barbo,
succeeded Pius II. in 1464. An attempt to raise a crusade
against the Turks, a persecution of the Hussites, the ex-
communication of Podiebrad, King of Bohemia, and the
dispersion of an academy which had been instituted for the
study of classical antiquities, were the most notable acts of
his pontificate. He died in 1471.
Paul III., Pope, whose real name was Alessandro Far-
nese, succeeded Clement VII. in 1534. His rule was
characterized by zeal and vigour. He excommunicated
Henry VIII. of England, established the Inquisition at
Naples, sanctioned the new order of the Jesuits, and con¬
demned the system of doctrine called the “ Interim,” which
the Emperor Charles V. had ordered to be drawn up. By
him also was the general council convoked which had for
its object the healing of the schisms in the church, and
which continued to sit long after his death in 1549.
Paul IV., Pope, who was originally called Gian Pietro
Caraffa, was raised to the pontificate after Marcellus II. in
1555, at the age of eighty. He had became notable while
archbishop of Theate or Chieti for his attempt to revive
the sinking strength of Popery by introducing among the
clergy the discipline and simplicity of primitive times. It
now became his object to carry out the same plan on a much
larger scale. Bent upon reforming not only the ecclesias¬
tics but the Roman Catholic community at large, he obliged
bishops to reside within their own dioceses, proscribed un¬
principled publications, punished blasphemers, and even
expelled his own nephews from Rome on account of their
debaucheries. After a reign of four years, spent in this re¬
formation, he died in 1559.
Paul V., Pope, whose previous title was Camillo Bor-
ghese of Siena, succeeded Leo XI. in 1605, at the age of
fifty-three. The most notable event in his pontificate was
his dispute with the Venetian Senate. The occasion was
the arraignment of two priests at Venice before the magis¬
trate; and the subject was, whether in the Venetian terri¬
tory religious edifices could be erected, property could be
bequeathed to the church, and ecclesiastics could be ac¬
cused of any civil crime, without being liable to the inter¬
ference of the government. The pope asserted the affir¬
mative : the Senate persisted in maintaining the negative.
The Pope laid the territory under an interdict: the Senate
expelled from their dominions all those who showed any
respect to the interdict. Baronius and Bellarmine entered
the field of literary controversy to support the see of Rome .
the famous Father Paul appeared to defend the lights of
Venice. His holiness at length employed the mediation of
the Kins of France; but the senators did not give up the con¬
test until they had triumphantly carried their point. Paul
was more successful in his attempts to embellish Rome.
He erected several spacious edifices, enlarged the Vatican
and Quirinal palaces, constructed some of the most beauti¬
ful fountains, collected some of the finest specimens of
painting and sculpture, and restored some of the richest
pieces of the ancient architecture of the city. The death
of Paul V. happened in 1621.
Paol I., Czar of Russia, was the son of Peter III. and
Catherine II., and was born in 1754. He succeeded to
the throne in 1776, and was strangled in 1801. (See
Russia..)
Paul, Father. See Sarpi.
PAUL, St, a town in the island of Reunion or Bourbon,
stands on the W. coast, 19 miles S.W. of St Denis. It is
shaded by acacias, and has a better harbour than that of St
Denis. This was the earliest settlement made by the
352
P A U
Paulicians.
Paul, St French on the island. Pop. about 10,000; of the arron-
dissement, 16,262.
Paul, St, an island in the Indian Ocean, S. Lat. 38.44.,
E. Long. 77. 38., about 9 miles long, by 5 broad. It seems
to be of volcanic origin; for it contains hot springs, and
an old crater, now filled with water and abounding in fish.
The island is covered with a stunted vegetation, and has
good anchorage at the E. side.
Paul de Luanda. See Luanda.
PAULICIANS, The, were an ancient religious sect
which sprung up in Armenia in the seventh century. Their
founder was one Constantine, an inhabitant of the village
of Mananalis, in the neighbourhood of Samosata. This
individual happening to receive a copy of the New Testa¬
ment as a present, began to search the gospel record, and
to extract from it a set of opinions peculiar to himself. He
then preached his new doctrines with success in his native
district, in Pontus, and in Galatia. A numerous band of fol¬
lowers gathered round him, who, forming themselves into a
distinct sect, adopted a systematic creed. A certain part of
their creed was merely a revival of some of the most flagrant
errors of the early Christians. Thus they held, with the
Gnostics, that the Old Testament was not canonical, and
that the Creator of the world and the God of heaven were
two distinct beings. They also held, with the Valentinians,
that Christ’s body was not a material body formed in the
womb of the Virgin Mary, but an ethereal body brought
along with him from heaven. Yet the greater part of their
doctrine was a direct protest and a thorough-going polemic
against the growing superstitions of the church. Accord¬
ing to them, the holy cross was a piece of common or per¬
haps rotten wood ; the wonder-working relics were a heap
of offensive dust; the consecrated priesthood was a Jewish
institution ; the efficacious sacraments were mere symbols,
the one denoting the baptism of the Spirit, and the other
denoting the feeding upon the word of Christ; Mary, the
mother of God, and the immaculate Virgin, was a frail
mortal woman, and the parent of several mortal children;
and even the great St Peter, the first bishop of Rome, was an
unworthy apostle, whose two epistles ought to be expunged
from the pages of the New Testament. This severely
simple code of doctrine was accompanied by a severely
simple rule of practice. It became the aim of the new
sect to realize, even in the minutest accessories, the con¬
dition of the primitive church under St Paul. They lis¬
tened to the precepts of the great apostle of the Gentiles
as if he were speaking to them with a living voice, and they
called themselves Paulicians, as if he were their founder
and sole teacher. Their pastors were surnamed after the
apostle’s fellow-labourers, and their pastorates were named
after the apostle’s congregations. The sharp reproof which
the Paulicians thus gave to both the creed and government of
the church soon roused a vindictive persecution. For one
hundred and fifty years each successive emperor, whether
an image-worshipper or an iconoclast, deemed it either his
duty or his interest to endeavour to suppress the harmless
Armenian sect. Their teachers were martyred, their faith
was assailed both by argument and force, and they were
proscribed in all the provinces of the empire. The Em¬
press Theodora brought the persecution to a climax, and
provoked the persecuted to retaliate. Aiming at the total
extirpation of the Paulicians, she beheaded, hung, drowned,
and burned no less than one hundred thousand. The rem¬
nant, finding a refuge and a home in that part of Armenia
which belonged to the Saracens, formed a league with the
khalif for the purpose of inflicting retribution upon their
common enemy. One of their number, Carbeas, a valiant
soldier, was appointed to organize an expedition. At the
head of an army composed of his fellow-sectaries and of
Moslems, he invaded the provinces of the empire, and de¬
feated the Emperor Paul under the walls of Samosata.
P A u
Still more victorious was his successor Chrysocheir. Sweep- Paulinus
ing before him all opposition, he overran the whole of Asia, ||
and pillaged Nice and Nicomedia, Ancyra and Ephesus. Paulas
In vain did the Emperor Basil, the Macedonian, try both
arms and negotiation. It was not until Chrysocheir had
been surprised and slain that the invaders were driven
back into their own district, and forced to defend their in¬
dependence among the mountains. The Paulicians, how¬
ever, were destined to be placed in a scene of more pro¬
sperous activity. About the middle of the eighth century,
the Emperor Constantine Copronymus transplanted a large
body of them from Armenia to Thrace ; in the tenth cen¬
tury the Emperor John Zimisces increased the colony by
a fresh number of emigrants; and in a short time they had
obtained a firm footing in Philippopolis, and other cities in
that part of the empire. As they grew in power and im¬
portance, they grew also in proselytizing zeal. Travelling
westward as far as Germany and France, their missionaries
made many converts, and fostered that spirit of opposition
to the corruptions of the church which ultimately issued in
the Reformation. (Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, Mosheim’s
Ecclesiastical History, and Neander’s History of the Church.)
PAULINUS, Merupius Puntius Anicius, Bishop of
Nola, was born in Bourdeaux, or its neighbourhood, about
353. The career of the future ecclesiastic began amid
bright prospects of worldly preferment. His parents left
him a munificent fortune ; his opening taste for letters was
fostered by the tuition of the poet Ausonius ; he was raised
to the rank of consul suffectus ; and he won the hand of a
wealthy and accomplished lady named Therasia. Yet the
latter part of his life was characterized by an abandonment
of all earthly cares and honours. In the course of a few
years, his conversion to the truth of the gospel led him to
distribute part of his possessions among the poor. Then a
domestic affliction which he suffered while residing in Spain
tended to increase this spirit of religious devotion. Becom¬
ing a presbyter in 393, he removed immediately to Cam¬
pania to devote his remaining days to the duties of piety.
He first spent nearly fifteen years in monk-like seclusion,
practising acts of charity and self-mortification, and writing
sacred poetry and theological treatises. At length, in 409,
he entered upon the duties of the see of Nola, a post which
he held till his death in 431. The works of Paulinus
which have come down to us are fifty epistles, thirty-two
poems, and a brief tract entitled Passio S. Genesii Arela-
tensis. They were first printed in an imperfect state by
Badius, 8vo, Paris, 1516. The standard edition is that of
Le Brun Desmarettes, 4to, Paris, 1685.
PAULUS vEGINETA. See ^Egineta.
Paulus JEmilius. See TImilius, Paulus.
Paulus, Heinrich Eberhard Gottlob, a learned German
divine, was born at Leonberg in Wiirtemberg in 1761.
The chief part of his attention during his educational
course was directed to theology. He studied the oriental
languages and the other branches of a divinity course at
Tubingen and Gottingen, and then proceeding to England,
completed his education at London and Oxford. On his
return to his native country, Paulus entered upon a distin¬
guished professorial and literary career. In 1789 he was
appointed to the chair of oriental languages at Jena; in
1804 he became professor of theology at Wurzburg, and in
1811 he began to teach exegesis and philosophy at the uni¬
versity of Heidelberg. At the same time, his pen was
busily employed in theological literature. Among other
works, he published Philologisch-kritischer Commentar
iiber das Neue Testament, in 2 vols., Liibeck, 1800-5 ; Das
Leben Jesu, in 2 vols., Heidelberg, 1828; and Exegetisches
Handbuch uber die drei ersten Evangelien, in 3 vols.,
Heidelberg, 1830-33. The death of Dr Paulus took place
at Heidelberg in 1851.
Paulus, Julius, one of the most eminent of the Roman
I
itusanias.
P A IT
jurists, flourished in the third century. The only facts of
his biography that are known with any degree of certainty
are, that Elagabalus banished him ; that Alexander Severus
recalled him, and made him prcefectusprcetorio ; that he was
a contemporary of Ulpian and Papinian ; and that he was a
most voluminous writer on laws. All that we know regard¬
ing his qualities as an author is derived from 2083 excerpts
in the Digest of Justinian. He was concise in style, subtle
in thought, and comprehensive in judgment.
PAUSANIAS, a celebrated Greek general, was the
son of Cleombrotus, and nephew of Leonidas. The first
important event in his life was the distinguished part which
he played in repelling the second Persian invasion in 479
b.C. In that year the task of leading the Spartan contin¬
gent northward to the scene of war in Bceotia was entrusted
to him. The other Peloponnesian allies joined him at the
Isthmus of Corinth ; the Athenian troops fell in at Eleusis;
and the command of the assembled forces was then con¬
ferred upon him. Crossing Mount Cithseron at the head
of 110,000 men, he confronted an army of 330,000 Per¬
sians on the banks of the River Asopus. After delaying
several days, and changing his position twice, he came to a
general engagement with the enemy at Platcea. Of all his
forces, the Spartans fought most bravely ; and of all the
Spartans, he himself achieved the greatest feats of valour.
The Persians were completely routed ; their camp was
stormed; and all their remaining troops, with the excep¬
tion of a few thousands that escaped, were remorselessly
butchered. This brilliant exploit secured for Pausanias
another high post of honour. Not long afterwards, by the
unanimous voice of the Greeks, he was placed in command
of a fleet, and charged with the task of following up his
former successes, and driving the Persians completely out
of Europe. Sailing first to Cyprus, he liberated the cities
in that island. Then steering his course to the Propontis,
he finished his enterprise by capturing Byzantium. Here
ended the distinguished career of Pausanias : the rest of his
life was nothing else than a course of the most infatuated
lolly. Intoxicated with military success, his brain began
to be filled with the most extravagant ideas. The Spartan
mode of life, he thought, would no longer suit him: it was
necessary to surround himself with the luxury and splendour
of a Persian satrap. These foolish aspirations soon residted
in a deliberate attempt to sell his country to the Persians
for a fortune and the hand of the daughter of Darius. His
recall to Sparta to answer for his conduct did not make him
abandon this treacherous design. He continued to cor¬
respond with the King of Persia until the interception of
one of his letters brought his guilt to light and himself to
punishment. Having taken refuge in the temple of Minerva,
the ephori unroofed that edifice, built up the door, and al¬
lowed him to die of cold and hunger. His demise took
place at some date between 471 and 466 b.c. The Life of
Pan sanias has been written by Cornelius Nepos.
Pausanias, a celebrated Greek antiquary, has been sup¬
posed, from a passage in his own work, to have been a
native of Lydia. The exact period of his birth and death
is unknown, but he was employed on a part of his book in
the reign of Hadrian, who died a.d. 139, and was writing
the Antiquities of Elis, a.d. 174, in the fourteenth year of
the reign of M. Aurelius (v. 1, 1). He must thus have
been contemporary with Aulus Gellius, Ptolemy the geo¬
grapher, bronto the philosopher, Apuleius, and Lucian,
though his pursuits were not likely to bring him in contact
with any of them. The work which he has left is entitled
EAAaSos lleptrjy^cns {The Itinerary of Greece). It is
divided into ten books, containing an account of the anti¬
quities in each of the provinces of Greece, in the following
order : Attica, Megaris, Corinthia, Sicyonia, Phliasia,
Argolis, Laconica, Messenia, Elis, Achaea, Arcadia, Boeotia,
and Phocis. He must have examined minutely every
vob. xvu.
P A U
part of these provinces; and it is observed by Sir John
Hobhouse, in his Journey through Albania, “ that the
exact conformity of present appearances with the minute
descriptions of the Itinerary is no less surprising than satis¬
factory.” Nothing escaped his observation. Mountains,
rivers, fountains, temples, statues, and pictures are all
described. He evidently took every means in his power to
be accurate in his descriptions, as he constantly refers, as a
corroboration of his statements, to inscriptions on ancient
monuments and works of art, and to gifts dedicated in the
temples of the gods. Poets and historians also furnished
him with materials to illustrate the antiquities of the places
he visited. He is accused, however, like the Latin historian
Livy, of credulity, and of narrating many stories which have
no pretension to credibility. But, aware that such an accu¬
sation might be brought against him, he states (vi. 3, 4)
that he thought himself bound to give these traditions of
the Greeks, though there was no reason why he should be¬
lieve them. In his style he is thought to have imitated
Herodotus, but by no means successfully.
The Greek text of Pausanias was first published at Ve¬
nice in 1516 by Aldus ; but this edition, which is in folio,
is very incorrect, having been printed from a bad manu¬
script. That of Leipsic, 1696, in folio, published by
Kuhn, is accompanied by the Latin translation of Amaseo,
which had appeared separately at Rome in 4to, 1547. The
edition of Clavier, Paris, 1814-1821, in 6 vols. 8vo, is ac¬
companied by a new French translation. The latest edi¬
tion is that of Schubart and Walz, in 3 vols. 8vo, Leip¬
sic, 1838-40. It is only necessary further to indicate the
Italian translation of Bonaccinoli, Mantua, 1597, in 4to; and
that which appeared at Rome, 1792-1793, in 5 vols. 4to;
the English translation of Taylor, London, 1793-1794, in
3 vols. 8vo ; and the German translation of E. Wiedasch,
in 4 vols. 8vo, Munich, 1826-29.
PAUSIAS, a distinguished Greek painter, was a native
of Sicyon, and flourished in the fourth century b.c. His
training was received under very favourable circumstances.
He learned his first lessons in art from his father Brietes;
he was then subjected to the thorough educational system
of Pamphilus; and at the same time he was the fellow-dis¬
ciple of such artists as Melanthius and Apelles. Accord¬
ingly his professional career was marked by surpassing
excellence. He brought the art of painting in encaustic
with the oestrum to an unprecedented pitch of perfection.
By him was introduced the custom of decorating the walls
and ceilings of private apartments with historical represen¬
tations. He was also remarkable for his successful imitations
of nature, and for his skill in foreshortening, as the portrait
of “ Glycera the Flower-Girl,” and the picture of the Ox
about to be Sacrificed,” sufficiently testified.
PAUW, Cornelius de, sometimes called JMicoias, a
moral philosopher and historian, born at Amsterdam in
1739. He is better known as the uncle of the revolutionist
Anacharsis Clootz than by the ancestors from whom he
was descended ; they are, however, reported by his nephew
to have distinguished themselves in the revolutions of Hol¬
land in the sixteenth century. It appears, from the same
authority, that his name was Cornelius, and not Nicolas, but
that he was not related to Cornelius de Pauw, the critic and
the rival of Dorville; and that it was upon the marriage
of his sister to Clootz’s father that he obtained, through
the interest of his brother-in-law, a Catholic canonicate at
Xanten, in the territory of Cleves. ^ He was afterwards ap¬
pointed reader to Frederic, King of Prussia, perhaps as an
advocate of the new doctrines and principles which that
sovereign was disposed to patronize; but he is said to have
declined the offer of the place of an academician of Berlin,
and a bishopric at Breslau. His attacks on the Jesuits,
whom he accused of gross misrepresentation and exaggera¬
tion in their historical and geographical memoirs, rendered
2 Y
353
Pausias
II
Pauw.
354 PAY
Pavia, him unpopular with the Catholic clergy, though his learn-
and talents commanded a certain portion of their re¬
spect. He was simple in his manners, and somewhat negli¬
gent of his appearance. The close of his life was embit¬
tered by a tedious and painful disease; and he died on the
7th of July 1799.
His principal publications are—1. RechercJies sur les Americains,
Berlin, 1770 and 1772, in 8vo; a work intended to show the “ de¬
graded state of the savage Americans,” and forming a contrast to the
speculations of some contemporary writers of celebrity : 2. Defense
des Recherches, Berlin, 1771, 8vo. 3. Recherches sur les Egyptiens et
les Chinois, Berlin, 1774, in two vols. 8vo; Philosophical Disserta¬
tions on the Egyptians and Chinese, translated by Captain J.
Thomson, London, 1795, in two vols. 8vo. The investigation was
undertaken, he observes, to show “that no two nations ever resem¬
bled each other less than the Egyptians and the Chinese and it
must be admitted that he has sufficiently established his proposi¬
tion. There is, indeed, one argument that he has employed which
appears to be founded on a mistake of the Greek historians of
who have asserted that the Egyptians had long been in the
use of alphabetical characters; and the want of any alphabet
amongst the Chinese is stated by M. de Pauw as affording a marked
distinction from the Egyptians. There is, however, scarcely a
shadow of resemblance in the particular hieroglyphical characters
employed by the two nations, although the general system of be¬
ginning with a representation of a visible object, and departing
more and more, by degrees, from the fidelity of the delineation,
must necessarily have been common to both. But it so happens
that, out of about seventy Egyptian characters, which are com¬
pared by the Jesuits and Dr Morton with the Chinese in the Philo¬
sophical Transactions for 1769, there are about twenty of which
the sense has been ascertained with tolerable accuracy by Dr
Young; and of these there is only one that happens to have been
rightly determined by the comparison with the Chinese, excepting
two or three which are obviously mere pictures, as the moon and a
bow. . There is also amongst the old Chinese characters a figure of
a chain, which agrees remarkably in its form with the Egyptian
hieroglyphic employed as a copulative conjunction ; but there is a
still more striking coincidence which M. Jomard has noticed be¬
tween the Egyptian and Chinese characters for a thousand, both
of which he derives from the seed-vessel of the lotus, as containing
a multitude of seeds; and if the older Chinese characters be found
to preserve this resemblance as perfectly as they ought to do, it
must be confessed that the suspicion of a common origin will be
much strengthened by the argument. Both the Egyptians and the
Chinese were condemned, M. de Pauw observes, “ to an eternal
mediocrityand the weight of this observation is certainly not
diminished by anything that has been inferred from the study of
the hieroglyphics of the Rosetta stone and other monuments.
There are several papers of M. de Pauw on antiquarian subjects
in the Memoirs of the Society of Cassel, and in particular one on
the Temple of Juno Lacinia, vol. i., 1780. Recherches sur les Grecs
■frere published at Berlin, 1787, in two vols. 8vo; Philosophical
Dissertations on the Greeks, translated by Thomson, London, 1793,
in two vols. 8vo. This work is principally devoted to the Athenians,
amongst whom their boasted liberty is shown to have been confined
to a very small number of citizens, who tyrannized over the rest
of the inhabitants of their country. The Lacedaemonians, the
iEtolians, the Thessalians, and the Arcadians, are separately dis¬
cussed, but considered as comparatively contemptible; the Lace¬
daemonians in particular, and their successors, the Mainotes, are
treated with great severity, as a worthless race of dishonourable
vagabonds. The athletic education of the Athenians is, however,
highly applauded, from a visionary theory of the importance of
the physical perfection of the body to the operations of the mind.
An edition of the author’s three principal works appeared at Paris,
in 7 volumes octavo, 1795. (See Dorsch, Chardon-Larochette, and
Clootz, Magaz. Encycl. 1799; An. V., vol. ii., Widdigen, Westph.
Nationalk. 1801, p. 215; N. Ally. T. Bibl. Ixxiv., p. 77; Denina,
Prusse Litteraire, iii., A. Diet. Hist, ix., 8vo, Par. 1804 ; Chalmers’s
Biographical Dictionary, xxiii., 8vo, Lond. 1815.) (t. Y.)
PAVIA, a frontier city of Austrian Italy, capital of a
province of the same name, stands on the left bank of the
Ticino, about 2 miles above its confluence with the Po,
and 19 S.S.W. of Milan. On the opposite side of the
river stands the suburb of Borgo Ticino, connected with
Pavia by a handsome covered bridge of eight arches. The
ancient walls which surround the city, being about 3 miles
m circuit, inclose a much larger area than is required for
the pi esent. population ; and thus the numerous unoccupied
spaces and uninhabited or ruinous dwellings give to the
PAY
town a somewhat desolate look. It is, however, in general Pavia,
well built, and contains many venerable and splendid edi- i ‘
flees. The chief thoroughfare is the Strada Nuova or
Corso, extending from the bridge over the Ticino through
the middle of the town, and terminating at the other end
in a^ handsome gate. Along this street are erected the
chief buildings, consisting of palaces, colleges, and churches,
intermingled with theatres, shops, and coffee-houses. The
smaller streets branch off from this at right angles; some
leading to squares lined with stately but often neglected
palaces. Among the churches the chief place is occupied
by the cathedral, a large but unfinished building, begun in
1488. It is surmounted by a dome, and contains some
good pictures, though these cannot be well seen, from the
darkness of the interior. In a side chapel is the tomb of
St Augustine, adorned with 290 figures in all, and remark¬
able both for the beauty of the design and the delicacy of
the workmanship. The church of San Michele is the
oldest in Pavia, and perhaps in all Italy, having been built
probably in the beginning of the seventh century, though
the precise date is unknown. It is in the style adopted by
the Lombards, and is richly ornamented both in the interior
and exterior. A specimen of architecture more approach¬
ing the English-Gothic than that of most Italian churches
is to be found in Santa Maria del Carmine, which is beau¬
tifully built of brick, and has several fine windows and
doors in the west front. Another church built of brick is
that of San Francesco, a fine specimen of the Italian-
Gothic style. The celebrated San Pietro in Cielo d’Oro,
which is alluded to by Dante, is now partly in ruins and
partly used as a storehouse. It contains the tomb of the
famous Boethius. Several of the churches which formerly
existed at Pavia have been demolished ; and although be¬
fore the reign of Joseph II. there were numerous large and
wealthy convents, few of these now remain. The citadel
of Pavia, which was completed in 1469, consisted, when
entire, of a square court with towers at the corners, and
surrounded by a double cloister; but one side of it was
destroyed in 1527, and it was still further injured by the
French in 1796; although it still presents a fine appear¬
ance. The treasures of art and literature that it formerly
contained were carried to France by Louis XII. in 1499;
and the place is now used for barracks. The university
of Pavia gives to the town no small portion of its celebrity.
It is of great antiquity, having been founded, it is said, by
Charlemagne in 774, and restored in 1361 bv Galeazzo
Visconti, to whom it owes many of its privileges. It con¬
tains 13 colleges, 3 of which support gratuitously about
120 students; and there are faculties of law, medicine,
philosophy, and mathematics. There were in the session
1853-4, 35 professors and 21 assistants; and the number
of students was 1423. This university has long been cele¬
brated for its medical and surgical teaching; and among
the distinguished men who have been connected with it
are Spallanzani and Volta, who were both professors of na¬
tural history here. Attached to the university are a library
of 50,000 volumes, a museum, and a botanic garden. The
buildings are extensive and regular, composing five quad¬
rangles ; and there are four square towers from 200 to 250
feet high. Similar towers once adorned Pavia in such num¬
bers that the town was called Civitas Turrigera. Besides
the university, there is an ecclesiastical seminary, several
superior and elementary schools, an institute of fine arts,
&c. The charitable establishments include an hospital
for foundlings, two for orphans, a reformatory institution,
and others. About 5 miles from Pavia, on the road to
Milan, stands the Certosa, a splendid Carthusian convent,
with a fine Gothic church. No manufactures of any con¬
sequence are carried on at Pavia; but the trade, though
confined to the produce of the adjacent country, is in these
articles considerable. Ticinum, the ancient city which
Pavilion
PAY
occupied the site of Pavia, was never of much consequence
under the Romans; but the Lombard kings, who gave it
the name of Papia, made it their capital. It is chiefly
notable in history for the battle fought in its vicinity in
1525 between Francis I. of France and the army of Charles
V., under the viceroy Lannoy, when the former was de¬
feated and taken captive. Pop. 25,750.
The province of Pavia, which has an area of 400 square
miles, is one of the most fertile parts of Lombardy, lying en¬
tirely in the plain of the Po, containing good pasture-land,
and producing corn, wine, fruit, arid hemp. Pop. (1853)
173,879.
PAVILION. See Glossary to Architecture.
PAVLOGRAD, a town of Russia, capital of a circle of
the same name, in the government of Yekaterinoslav, on
the Voltscha, an affluent of the Dnieper, 30 miles E.N.E.
of Yekaterinoslav. It contains two churches, a school, a
benevolent institution, and several manufactories. Pop.
(1851) 6929.
PAWNBROKER. See Broker.
PAWTUCKET, a town of the United States of North
America, partly in Rhode Island and partly in Massa¬
chusetts, stands on both sides of the River Pawtucket, 4
miles N.N.E. of Providence. It contains eight or nine
churches, a masonic temple, and a public hall; the last two
being very fine buildings. The town is chiefly remark¬
able for its manufactories; and these are supplied fwith
abundant water-power by the river, which, within a short
distance, falls about 50feet. The first cloth factory moved by
water in America was established here in 1790. Machinery
and cotton fabrics are now the goods principally produced,
though boots and shoes, carriages, and cabinet-ware are
also made. The trade is considerable ; and during the
year 1852, 141 vessels arrived here, with a tonnage of
12,798. Pawtucket is connected by railway with Boston
and Providence. Pop. (1853) about 10,000.
PAXO. See Ionian Islands.
PAZ DE AYACUCHO, La, a town of Bolivia, capital
of a department of the same name, stands on both sides of
the deep ravine Quebrada-de-Choquehapu, 12,195 feet above
the level of the sea, but 620 below that of Lake Titicaca,
from which it is not far distant ; S. Lat. 16. 30., W. Long.
68. 30. The streets are irregular, and some of them very
steep; but there is a very handsome public square. Nine
elegant bridges cross the stream, which flows through the
ravine, and which forms one of the sources of the Amazon.
Of the 15 churches, the chief is the cathedral, a large and
noble edifice. There is also a university, a school of law,
college of sciences, school of mechanical arts, and other
seminaries.' A large proportion of the inhabitants are
Indians, who live in mud huts, and retain their primitive
language and mode of life. La Paz is the principal com¬
mercial town in Bolivia, European goods being brought
hither from Peru, and exchanged for gold, bark, and other
commodities of the country. It was founded in 1548, under
the name of Nuestra Senora de la Paz, and soon became
a place of much importance. Since 1605 it has been the
seat of a bishopric. In 1825 the name was changed to that
which it now bears, in honour of the victory of Ayacucho,
which secured the freedom of the country. Pop. 42,000.
Paz, La, a department of Bolivia, bounded on the N.
and E. by that of Beni, S. by those of Cochobamba and
Oruro, and W. by Peru, has an extent of 36,418 square
miles. It comprises those valleys of the Cordilleras through
which the head streams of the Rio Beni flow. Pop. 346,000.
PEA, the English name applied to the seed of several
leguminous plants, but chiefly to those of the cultivated
pea (Pisum sativum, Linn.), an annual plant, and a na¬
tive of the south of Europe. It has been cultivated as a
culinary vegetable from a very early period; but from
the slight mention made of it by Pliny, it does not appear
PEA
to have been valued so much by the Romans as by the
Greeks, who prized it very highly, and cultivated it exten¬
sively. It is not known when the pea was first cultivated v
in Britain; but long after its introduction it was rare, and
in the time of Elizabeth it was imported from Holland,
probably in a ripe state. Dr Fuller, writing of peas at
that time, said they w^ere “ fit dainties for ladies, they came
so far and cost so dear.” Either as a horticultural or as an
agricultural product, the pea is a vegetable of great im¬
portance. The seeds in a green state are regarded as one of
our most esteemed vegetables when boiled ; and when ripe,
are much used in forming a favourite and nutritious soup,
acceptable to all classes. Those produced in fields are
allowed to ripen, and are of great value in feeding swine;
the haulm is also cut up with other kinds of fodder, and is
much relished by cattle. The garden pea is often cultivated
in fields near large towns, where the demand for it, as a
green vegetable, is considerable; it is, however, a very dis¬
tinct variety from the field pea.
Few vegetables have rewarded the care of the cultivator
more than the garden pea, of which there are now at least
fifty varieties, which have been produced by a careful hy¬
bridization of the following well-marked botanical varieties
of the plant:—1. Var. a. saccharatum, having round dis¬
tant seeds, with coriaceous pods, called Sugar Pea, and in
France petits-pois and pois-sucres.—2. Var. /3. macrocar-
pum, a strong-growing large kind, with flattened falcate-
formed pods containing large and distant seeds. The most
remarkable peculiarity of this variety is, that the legumes
are destitute of the hard membrane with which others
are lined, in consequence of which this sort is cooked and
eaten in the pod. The French call it pois-goulons, pois-
sans-parchemin, and pois-mange-tout.—3. Var. y. umbel-
latum. The stipules in varieties a. and /3. are entire and
rounded, but in the present one they are quadrifid and acute.
The peduncles are surmounted with a rather compact cluster
of flowers; hence it is called in English Crown-Pea, and in
French pois-d-bouquet. It has been suggested that this
is a true species.—4. Var. S. quadratum. The seeds are of
moderate size, and so closely packed in the legume that
they become square when full growm. The French call it
pois-carre.—5. Var. e. humile. A dwarf, weak-growing
kind, with round seeds closely placed in the legume. I he
varieties raised from these are valued according to their
hardiness and early bearing, the size and sweetness of the
seeds, their abundant bearing, &c. They may be arranged
in four groups: those which have yellow seeds lound
when ripe, and those which have square wrinkled seeds;
those which have green seeds round when ripe, and
those which have square and wrinkled ones. All the va¬
rieties of the true garden pea have white flowers ; but the
field pea has red and purple flowers, and the seed when
ripe is of a yellowish-brown mottled colour. 1 he pea, as
an agricultural crop, is in favourable situations a very use¬
ful one, and is so soon off the ground that a crop of tur¬
nips can usually be realized after it. In England this crop
is usually found most abundant in the midland counties.
Large quantities of peas are also imported in a ripe state.
These are of the round and yellow kind, and are used
chiefly for making soup. Ihe quantity imported in 18o7
was in quarters,—from Denmark, 21,763; Prussia, 8265 ;
Hanse Towns, 4870; Holland, 2630; Morocco, 9000;
United States, 6200; British North America, 36,000;
other parts, 2000;—the total value of which was nearly
L.200,000. (t.c.a.)
PEACE RIVER, in British North America, rises to the
west of the eastern chain of the Rocky Mountains, within
300 yards of Frazer River, which takes an opposite course,
and flows through the mountains and the plains beyond,
first eastward, and then N.E. Near the foot of Lake Atha¬
basca it joins the Slave River, which issues from this lake,
355
Peace
River.
and flows northward to the Great Slave Lake. Its whole
length is estimated at 800 miles; and it is navigable for
boats even above the Rocky Mountains. The Peace River
gives its name to an extensive division of the Pludson’s
Bay Company’s territory.
PEARCE, Zachary, D.D., Bishop of Rochester, was
the son of a distiller in High Holborn, and was born in
1690. He received his education at Westminster school,
where he was elected a king’s scholar. At the age of
twenty he entered Trinity College, Cambridge; and during
the first years of his residence there, he occasionally amused
himself with lighter compositions, some of which are in¬
serted in the Guardian and Spectator. In 1716 he pub¬
lished his edition of Cicero JDe Orators, and dedicated it
to Lord Chief-Justice Parker, afterwards Earl of Maccles¬
field, a prudent step, which laid the foundation of his future
fortune. In 1717 Pearce was ordained, and during the
following year became chaplain to Lord Parker. In 1719
he was installed in the rectory of Stappleford Abbots in
Essex; in 1720, in that of St Bartholomew; and in 1723,
in that of St Martin’s-in-the-Fields, London. Besides
Lord Parker, Pearce could now reckon amongst his patrons
or friends Mr Pulteney (afterwards Earl of Bath), Arch¬
bishop Potter, Lord Hardwicke, Sir Isaac Newton, and
many other eminent personages. In 1724 the degree of
Doctor of Divinity was conferred on him by Archbishop
Wake. The same year he dedicated to his patron the Earl
of Macclesfield his edition of Longinus On the Sublime,
with a new Latin version and notes. The deanery of
Winchester having become vacant, Dr Pearce was ap¬
pointed to it in 1739; in the year 1744 he was elected
prolocutor of the Lower House of Convocation for the
province of Canterbury; and on the 12th of February
1748 he was made bishop of Bangor. Upon the death
of Bishop Wilcocks, he was promoted to the see of Roches¬
ter and deanery of Westminster in 1756. In the year
1763 his lordship, being then in the seventy-third year of
his age, and finding himself less fit for the business of his
station as bishop and dean, expressed a desire to resign.
His Majesty was inclined to favour his wishes, but the
bishops disliked the proposal. He obtained leave, however,
to resign the deanery in 1768, and in 1774 he died.
In addition to the works already alluded to, this learned
prelate wrote numerous sermons and tracts, published
on various occasions. Four volumes of his posthumous
sermons were given to the world by his chaplain, John
Derby, in 1778. He likewise wrote Miracles of Jesus
Vindicated, 1727 and 1728; A Review of the Text of
Milton, 1733, containing an able refutation of Bentley’s
chimerical emendations; Tico Letters against Dr Middle-
ton, occasioned by the doctor’s letter to Waterland, on the
publication of his treatise, entitled Scripture Vindicated,
1752. But the work which above all others displays the
solid learning and ripe judgment of the author is A Com¬
mentary, with Notes, on the Four Evangelists and the Acts
of the Apostles, &c., 2 vols. 4to, Lond. 1777. This work
contains also an autobiography of the author, together with
additions from the pen of Dr Samuel Johnson.
PEARL is produced by a secretion peculiar to the Mol-
lusca, and chiefly employed in the formation of their shells.
(See Mollusc A.) In a few species pearl attains an econo¬
mic importance, and gives rise to considerable branches of
industry. Its normal development is as a slimy excretion
from the exterior surface of the mantle, which being applied
to the inner surface of the shell increases its thickness by the
deposition of successive layers. It is abnormally developed
for the purpose of covering grains of sand or other foreign
bodies, which, by getting accidentally between the delicate
mantle and the shell, would, but for this protection, cause
u i itation and disease to the former. Man takes advantage of
hot t circumstances. By the former process he is supplied
with mother-of-pearl, and by the latter with the precious
pearls used in jewellery. These are generally spherical
in form, and unconnected with the shell of the animal.
Linnaeus showed that by perforating a living pearl ovster,
and introducing a grain of sand, a nucleus is formed for the
development of a pearl.
Precious pearls have been ranked as gems from a verv
early period ; and then, as well as now, the finest both in
size and colour were obtained from the Indian Ocean, and
are produced by the bivalve Meleagrina, margaritifera,
Lam. The famous wager between Cleopatra and Marc
Antony gives us an insight into the value of pearls. At
that time the two pearl ear-drops which the luxurious queen
proposed to dissolve in vinegar, and serve up at the pro¬
mised costly repast, were valued at 10,000,000 of sesterces,
or about L.76,000. The pearl belonging to A. J. B. Hope,
Esq., M.P., the largest known in modern times, and far too
large to be used as an ear-drop, is not worth a fourth of
that sum. It weighs 1800 grains, or 3 ounces, and has a
circumference of 4£ inches, and a length of 2 inches.
The most usual dimensions of good oriental pearls is from the
size of a pea to about three times that size. When much be¬
low the size ofa pea they are called seedpearls. These seed
pearls, as well as the larger kinds, were in great request in
the time of Pliny; for he says, “ And now at the present
day the poorer classes are even affecting them, as people
are in the habit of saying that a pearl worn by a woman in
public is as good as a lictor walking before her ” (the size
bespeaking the importance of the person). “ Nay, even
more than this, they put them on their feet, and that not
merely on the laces of their sandals, but all over the shoes ;
it is not enough to w'ear pearls, but they must tread upon
them, and wralk with them under foot as well.” (Bohn’s
edit.) Small pearls are also yielded by other bivalves, as
the common oyster, mussel, and more particularly by the
pearl-mussel (Unio margaritiferns'), which was also known
to the Romans; for Pliny says, “It is a well-ascertained
fact that in Britannia pearls are found, though small and of
a bad colour; for the deified Julius Caesar wished it to be
distinctly understood that the breast-plate which he pre¬
sented to Venus Genetrix, in her temple, w7as made of
British pearls.” (Bohn’s edit.) They are also mentioned
by Tacitus in his Life of Agricola as indigenous products of
Britain ; he describes them “ as not very orient, but pale
and wan.” (See Mollusca.) Strangely enough, these
seed pearls, the collection of which was eagerly pursued as
a branch of profitable industry by the ancient Britons, is
still followed by their descendants in the principality. The
traveller who sojourns in the neighbourhood of Conway is
sure to be solicited to purchase British pearls, which may
be obtained from 5s. to 10s. per ounce. They are of little
value except as curiosities.
The finest oriental pearls are obtained from Ceylon and
the Persian Gulf, the seed pearls chiefly from Kurrachee, on
the Bombay coast, where they are washed ashore, and aie
collected by coolies, under contractors, who pay 40,000
rupees (L.4000) to the Julpore government for the privi¬
lege. The seed pearls are chiefly used by the natives of
India and Persia, who attribute important medicinal virtues
to them. Pearls of good size and colour are sometimes col¬
lected in the West Indies and on the coast of South Ame¬
rica. Imports were received from the following places in
1856:—Egypt, value L.32,570; St Thomas, L.20,744;
New Granada, L.1000; British West India Islands, L.500;
other parts, L.348.
The same animal {Meleagrina margaritferd) which
yields the precious pearl produces also the mother-of-pearl
shells of commerce. They are often very large, nearly
circular in form, and very slightly convex externally.
Specimens are occasionally seen 12 inches in diameter.
Generally the nacre, or pearly material, constitutes the chief
PEA
Pearl part of the shell, only a thin, worn, dark-coloured crust
Fisheries, forming the outside coating or epidermis. They are prin-
cipally collected on the shores of Madagascar, Ceylon,
Manilla, Panama, &c. There are three principal kinds :—
\st. The silver-lipped. These have a yellowish pearly
lustre, generally very clear and bright. The largest shells
also occur amongst them. Their value ranges from L.80
to L.130 per ton. They are imported chiefly from Ma¬
nilla and China. 2d. Blue-edged or black-lipped, from
South America or other places, worth from L.30 to LAO
per ton. ?jd. The Panama or bullock-shell, a small kind
from Panama, worth from L.18 to L.21 per ton. The
quantity imported in 1856, of all sorts, was 2102 tons, of
the value of L.76,544. They are used for a variety of
purposes—for the manufacture of buttons, for knife-handles,
for inlaying, &c. Great numbers are sent to the Holy
Land, where the monks carve upon them religiqus pictures,
often of great artistic merit, which are sold to visitors as
souvenirs of their visits to the holy places. Many tons are
annually consumed in this way, and in making rosary beads
and other small articles. The beautiful opalescence of
these shells appears to depend upon “ minute undulations
of the layers, which has been successfully imitated upon
steel buttons.” {VIoo^wsccd, Manual of Mollusca.) Other
shells are occasionally imported and used by the button-
maker and inlayer in consequence of the brilliancy of
their nacreous layers, as Turbo marmoratus, Linn., from
China, and the beautiful Haliotis gigas from the Indian
Seas. (t. c. a.)
Pearl Fisheries. Owing to the circumstance of the
pearl-oyster being found congregated, like the common
oyster, in great abundance in certain localities, regular
fisheries are established, some of which have furnished
pearls for many centuries. Ceylon, still the most famous
of the pearl fisheries, was celebrated for the same valuable
product in the time of Pliny, when that island was called
Tabrobane. The same writer also mentions the island of
Stoidis as one of the places in the Persian Gulf especially
celebrated for its pearl fishery. The same method of pro¬
curing pearls was practised in the time of the Romans as
in modern times,—viz., by diving and dredging, but espe¬
cially by the former. As the exertion demanded from divers
is exceedingly violent, they are generally said to be un¬
healthy and short-lived. The best fishery ground is at a
depth of 6 or 8 fathoms water, where the divers remain
under water from 50 to 80 seconds, but rarely longer.
Percival, in his Ceylon, tells of a diver who came from
Anjango in 1797, and who could absolutely remain under
water for full six minutes. They seldom use any precau¬
tion to prevent the water from injuring them, and make
forty or fifty descents daily, bringing 100 oysters in their
bag on each occasion. The fishing season seldom lasts
above a month, beginning about the 5th of March. The
pearl fisheries of the present day are situated on the west
coast of Ceylon, especially in the Bay of Condatchy, the
coast of Coromandel, the Bahrein Islands in the Persian
Gulf, the coast of Algiers, the Sooloo Islands, the Gulf of
Panama, and the island of Margarita. The finest oriental
pearls are obtained from Ceylon and the Coromandel coast.
These fisheries are in the hands of the government, by
whom they are regulated and farmed out. The beds are
annually surveyed, and their condition reported to the go¬
vernment. They are divided into four equal portions, one
only of which is allowed to be worked in each year. By
this means a three years’ rest is insured after each fishing,
thus affording the growing meleagrinas, which are free and
active in their young state, an opportunity of settling down
on the bed, from which the weight of their full-grown shell
prevents them from moving in the adult state. As perhaps
no fishery of any kind produces such a vast amount of
wealth, and gives so much scope for speculation in so short
PEA 357
a space of time, the shores of the Bay of Condatchy in the Pearl
months of February, March, and April present a very ani- Islands
mated spectacle. Here are found Indians and Jews— II
merchants, boatmen, divers ; conjurors to chain the sharks, 1 earson•
so dreaded by the divers ; Brahmins and Roman Catholic
priests, many of the Malealie divers being Roman Catholics.
The merchants and jewellers are busy and excited with
their trade, often speculating upon the contents of their
favourite boats before their arrival. The fleet of boats
leaves the shore at ten o’clock at night upon the firing of a
signal-gun, and returns at noon the following day. As soon
as they appear, the gun is again fired, and the flags are
hoisted; the shore is quickly crowded with anxious faces,
and a perfect Babel is witnessed when the boats touch the
strand, inquiries in twenty or more languages being shouted
out by the eager crowd as to the result of the cruise. The
cargo of each boat is quickly landed and taken possession
of by its owners, who immediately commence opening the
shells and searching for the pearls. These pass into other
hands as soon as found ; and the excitement is greater than
ever, caused by the hawkers and others engaged in the
purchase and preparation of the gems for other markets, as
they are all drilled and cleaned on the spot. (See Percival’s
Ceylon.) It is almost impossible to tell the exact value
of the produce of pearls, as there is no arrangement for the
purpose, and the contracts taken by the government (about
L.45,000 per annum) afford no criterion, as they barely pay
the working expenses.
The pearl fisheries of the Bahrein Islands, belonging to
Persia, are said to yield annually from L.200,000 to
L.240,000 sterling. A considerable fishery exists at Kur-
rachee, on the Bombay coast, which is let by the Indian
government to contractors for about 40,000 rupees (L.4000)
annually. The pearls are, however, of little value, being
very small. They are called seed pearls, and are chiefly
used in medicine bv vytians and hakims (Hindu and
Mohammedan doctors). According to Dr Ainslie, the
powder of pearls is supposed to have the virtue of strength¬
ening weak eyes, and to have considerable efficacy in pal¬
pitations, nervous tremors, hemorrhage, and other affections.
Hence the fishery for seed pearls is kept up with vigour;
but they are obtained from the shells thrown on the coast
by the surf, and not by diving.
The South American pearl fisheries are carried on with
great activity ; but the quality of the pearls is not equal to
those of the East. In 1587, 697 lb. weight of pearls were
imported from Colombo and Margarita into Spain. 1 hilip
II. obtained a pearl from Margarita in 15/4 which weighed
250 carats, and was worth 150,000 dollars (L.31,875). In
1824 Messrs Rundell, Bridge, and Rundell obtained the
exclusive right of using these fisheries for ten year*.
Notwithstanding the great value of the pearls yielded by
the various fisheries, it is probable that the shells of the
animals now yield a far more profitable return than the
jewels. In 1856 the total value of pearls imported into the
United Kingdom was L.56,162; whereas the imports of 2102
tons of the shells were valued at L.76,544. (t. c. a.)
Pearl Islands, a small group of islands belonging to
New Granada, in the Bay of Panama, 60 miles S.E. of the
town of Panama. They consist of S. Miguel, _ S. Jose,
Pedro Gonzales, and other smaller ones ; and deiive then
name from the pearls that are obtained there.
PEARSON, Edward, D.D., a learned divine of the
English Church, was descended from the famous Dr John
Pearson, Bishop of Chester, and was born at Norwich on
the 7th November, 1756. He was educated at Sidney
Colleo-e, Cambridge, of which he afterwards became fellow
and tutor. No sooner had he been appointed rector of
Rempstone in Nottinghamshire in 1796, than he began a
career of great professional activity. Llis zeal was mani¬
fested with marked effect in the inculcation of practical re-
858
PEA
PEA
Pearson, ligion. He preached numerous sermons on special occa-
sions, edited prayer-books and catechisms, and wrote tracts
and discourses for the special enlightenment' of the lower
classes. Nor were his faculties less willingly exerted
against schismatics. He published Three Plain Reasons
against Separating from the Established Church, Three
Plain Reasons for Infant Baptism, and An Admonition
against Lay-Preaching. But it was for his bold attack on
supposed heresies among the Anglican hierarchy that Dr
Pearson was chiefly famous. In 1800 and 1801 suc¬
cessively he attacked the theoretical and the practical part
of Paley’s Moral and Political Philosophy; and in 1802
he published Remarks on the Controversy between the Ar-
minian and the Calvinistic Ministers of the Church of
England. He assailed the Calvinism of the evangelical
party in the person of Overton of York in 1802, and of
Simeon of Cambridge in 1810. His death happened in
1811, three years after he had been elected master of Sid¬
ney College, Cambridge. (See A brief Memoir of the Life,
Writings, and, Correspondence of the Rev. Ed. Pearson,
D. D., by W. P. Hunt, 1845, to which is appended a com¬
plete list of the author s writings.)
Pearson, John, D.D., a learned English bishop, was
born at Great Snoring in the county of Norfolk, on the
28th of February 1613. After his education at Eton and
Cambridge, he entered into holy orders in 1639, and was
the same year collated to the prebendary of Netherhaven, in
the church of Sarum. In 1640 he was appointed chaplain
to the Lord-Keeper Finch ; and was presented to the living
of Thorington in Suffolk during the same year. In 1650
he was made preacher of St Clement’s, Eastcheap, in Lon¬
don. In 1657 he and Peter Gunning had a dispute with
two Roman Catholics upon the subject of schism, a very
unfair account of which was printed at Paris by one of the
disputants, named Tyrwhitt, in 1658. In 1659 he pub¬
lished at London his celebrated Exposition of the Creed,
dedicated to his parishioners of St Clement’s, Eastcheap, to
whom the substance of that excellent work had been
preached several years before, and by whom he had been
desired to make it public. The same year he likewise
published the Golden Remains of the ever-memorable Mr
John Hales of Eton, to which he prefixed a preface con¬
taining a character of that eminent man, with whom he had
been acquainted for many years, drawn up with great ele¬
gance and force. Pearson had also a principal share in the
editing of the Critici Sacri, first published in 1660. Soon
after the Restoration he was presented by Juxon, then
bishop of London, to the rectory of St Christopher’s in that
city ; created doctor of divinity at Cambridge, in pursuance
of the king’s letters mandatory; installed prebendary of
Ely, archdeacon of Surrey, and made master of Jesus Col¬
lege in Cambridge, all before the end of the year 1668.
In 1661 he was appointed Margaret professor of divinity in
that university; and on the first day of the ensuing year
he was nominated one of the commissioners for the review
of the Liturgy in the conference held at the Savoy. On
the 14th of April 1662 he was admitted master of Trinity
College in Cambridge ; and in August resigned his rectory
of St Christopher’s and his prebend of Sarum. In 1667
he was admitted a fellow of the Royal Society. In 1672
he published at Cambridge Vindicice Epistolarum S. Ig-
natii, in 4to, in answer to Daille; to which is subjoined
Isaaci Vossii Epistolce I)uce adversus Davidem Blondel-
lum. Upon the death of the celebrated Dr Wilkins, Pear¬
son was appointed his successor in the see of Chester, to
which he was consecrated on the 9th of February 1672-
16/3. In 1682 his Annales Cyprianici were published at
Oxford, with Fell’s edition of that father’s works. Pearson
was disabled from all public service by ill health a consi¬
derable time before his death, which happened at Chester
on the 16th of July 1686. Pearson’s last work, the Two
Dissertations on the Succession and Times of the First
Bishops of Rome, formed the principal part of his Opera
Posthuma, edited by Henry Dodwell in 1688. (See a
Memoir of Bishop Pearson, prefixed to the edition of his
Minor Theological Works, by Edward Churton, 2 vols.,
Oxford, 1844.)
PEx4lT is formed by the partial decay of vegetable
matter, especially of various species of mosses. It exists in
most parts of Northern Europe. The vast peat-bogs of Ire¬
land, amounting probably to not less than three million Eng¬
lish acres, of an average depth of 19^ feet, represent an
amount of raw material which is now being looked to by eco¬
nomists as a source of wealth, instead of being the exponent
of sterility. Peat may be made valuable in various ways;
first, as a source of fuel. At present, however, while coal
is abundant and cheap, peat will probably be unable to
compete with it. The time may come when the coun¬
try will look with eagerness to Ireland for the supply of
fuel, which is a necessary element in our greatness and
prosperity; and that time may not be so far distant as is
generally supposed, when we consider the fact that our
present annual consumption of coal is about seventy mil¬
lion tons. In the year 1856 the quantity of coal raised in
the United Kingdom amounted to 66,645,450 tons.
In the article Fuel, some details are given respecting
peat as a source of heat, and we may here give a few ad¬
ditional particulars. The heating power depending on the
per-centage of pure carbon found in the peat, the source
of the supply becomes a matter of importance, seeing how
very variable is the value of the peat in different localities.
Dr Sullivan states that “the variation in the quality of
peat is so great, that no statements as to its economical
value can be relied on which do not give the per-centage
of ash, the per-centage of water, and the specific gravity.
The variation in the latter amounts to 03 to IT for air-
dried turf from the great centre bogs.”1 Mr W. Longmaid
states that “ the best samples of peat contained, when
dried, about 70 to 75 per cent, of carbon ; but other
samples were contaminated with earthy matters to the ex¬
tent of from 5 to 10 per cent.; the average impurities may
be taken at from 4 to 5 per cent., and we have found some
samples of peat charcoal yielding 94 per cent, of fuel.”2
Messrs Gwynne & Co. have taken out several patents
for the preparation of peat fuel. In one of their patent
processes, the peat, as dug from the bog, is deprived of
much of its moisture by being placed in a large centrifugal
machine, after which it is ground to powder, and passed
through a series of cylinders revolving in a heated cham¬
ber, where the remaining moisture is got rid of, and the
powder raised to the proper temperature for compression ;
it is carried from the last cylinder by two pockets to the
compressing tables, and having passed through them, the
solidified peat is ready for use. In another process the
moisture is got rid of by passing the peat between cylinders
containing, at equal distances along their outer surfaces,
proj ections equal to the thickness of the slabs of peat. The
drying of these is completed in the hot chamber, or they
are at once converted into charcoal. It is found that when
the peat powder has been dried at a temperature of about
180°, and in that state allowed to enter the hopper of the
compressing engine, the tarry properties of the turf are just
sufficiently developed to form a good cementing compound,
and the brick of compressed turf, when cold, forms a dense
and very pure fuel. Dr Letheby, who has examined this
patent solidified peat fuel, reports that its specific gravity is
as high as 1T40, its structure hard and dense, and the stow¬
age weight of one cubic foot of the fuel is 71'24 lb., that of
1 Private communication to Professor Miller of King’s College, London.
2 Lecture before the Society of Arts, January 1855.
PEA
Peat. Newcastle coal being about 49'69 lb. 100 parts of the
peat contain 9 of hygroscopic moisture ; they yield 55 parts
of volatile matter, much of which is condensable, and 36 of
charcoal. The charcoal contains 3'8 of ash. 7000 grains of
the peat were distilled in an iron retort, and the volatile pro¬
ducts were conducted through a red-hot iron tube, under
the impression that the paraffine, &c., of the tar would be
converted into a gaseous hydrocarbon of high illuminating
power. The results were 2520 grains of peat coke, or
charcoal; 1320 of ammoniacal liquor ; 360 of thick tar;
and 2800 of combustible gas : the'gas occupied 625 cubic
feet, and when burnt at the rate of 5 cubic feet an hour,
from an Argand burner, with 15 holes, and a 7-inch chim¬
ney, it yielded a light equal to that of 7 sperm candles,
each burning at the rate of 120 grains per hour. Accord¬
ing to this analysis, 100 parts of the peat furnish
Porous charcoal  SG'OO
Ammoniacal liquor  IS'SG
Thick tar, containing paraffine  5T4
Gas having the illuminating power of 7
candles 
100-00
Although the illuminating power of the gas is not very high,
the quantity is considerable (a ton of the material furnish¬
ing as much as 14,000 cubic feet), and as much of the gas
and paraffine had been rendered gaseous by their passage
through a red-hot tube, they might probably be further
decomposed and converted into gases of high illuminating
power. When the gas had been purified, by passing it
through an alkaline mixture, it was found to be free from
sulphur, in which respect it has an advantage over coalgas.
In using the solidified peat as fuel, no opaque smoke is
evolved, no sulphurous acid is set free, the heat is quickly
raised and quickly diffused, the ashes do not form clinkers,
and the peat does not contain any metallic sulphuret, or
other substance that is likely to produce spontaneous com¬
bustion.
Messrs Gwynne propose to apply their prepared peat to
the reduction of ores by combining it with the proper fluxes;
and having formed the furnace charge of fuel, flux, and ore,
by powerful compression into globular masses, these are
piled up in the furnace, the spaces between them admitting
a sufficient quantity of air for maintaining the combustion.
Peat charcoal is of great value in the manufacture of iron,
on account of its being almost free from sulphur. Its de¬
odorizing and purifying qualities are also high.
According to Mallet (whose experiments on Irish peat
have been generally confirmed by those of Brix on Prus¬
sian peat), the heating power of good dry turf, as compared
with that of the coke of bituminous coal of good quality,
is as 1: 7'61, and air-dried peat will convert about its own
weight of water, at 60°, into steam at 212°. In Bavaria peat
is dried artificially to a large extent as fuel, for the use of
locomotive engines ; and at Koenigsbrunn it has for many
years been employed in the puddling furnaces for the con¬
version of cast into wrought iron.
Peat has thus been shown to be valuable,as a fuel;
secondly, as a source of illuminating gas; and we have now
•to refer to it in the third place, as a source of various pro¬
ducts obtained from its destructive distillation. The ulti¬
mate elements of peat are essentially the same as those of
wood and of coal, namely,—carbon, nitrogen, hydrogen, and
oxygen. If, therefore, peat be distilled in close vessels, the
resulting products will resemble those of a similar opera¬
tion on wood or coal. In the Great Exhibition of 1851,
Mr Oxland exhibited the products obtained by the de¬
structive distillation of Dartmoor peat in cast iron retorts ;
but as the expense of the process was too great for its
adoption in Ireland, it occurred to Mr Reece to make use
ot a blast-furnace similar to that employed in the smelting
PEC 359
of iron ore, with an additional contrivance for collecting Peck,
the products of combustion. By this means peat has been
made to yield ammonia, acetic acid, pyroxylic spirit, tar,
naphtha, oils, and paraffine, all useful products in the arts.
The ammonia which is fixed and separated by the addition
of sulphuric acid, forming sulphate of ammonia, is em¬
ployed in the preparation of carbonate and hydrochlorate
of ammonia, of caustic ammonia, and in the production of
manures and composts. The acetic acid, which is fixed
and separated by the addition of lime, forming acetate of
lime, is a useful source of acetic acid, and of various acetates
consumed by the calico-printer. Pyroxylic spirit, or wood al¬
cohol, may be separated by distillation, and is used in vapour-
lamps, and in the preparation of varnishes. Naphtha is also
used in making varnishes, and for dissolving caoutchouc.
The heavy and more fixed oils may be used as cheap lamp
oils, and for making lamp-black, or, mixed with other unc¬
tuous substances, they are well fitted for the lubrication of
machinery. Paraffine, either alone or mixed with sperm
or stearine, forms excellent candles. Paraffine is a crys¬
talline substance of the specific gravity 0870. It is destitute
of taste, colour, and odour; at 112° it is a transparent oily
liquid, and at a higher temperature it boils and distils with¬
out change ; its vapour burns with a white sootless flame.
It resists the action of acids, alkalies, chlorine, and potas¬
sium, and cannot be united by fusion with camphor, naphtha¬
line, benzole, or pitch. It is on account of this inertness
as a chemical agent, or want of affinity, that it derives its
name from parum affinis. It unites, however, with stearine,
cetine, bees’-wax, and colophony, and dissolves in oil of
turpentine and in naphtha. Mr Bagot states, that 100 tons .
of peat yield 10,000 gallons of liquor containing ammonia,
carbonic acid, acetic, and pyroligneous acids, pyroxylic
spirit, and 1000 gallons of tar, containing paraffine, heavy
oil and light oil. The inflammable gas is economically
used by being passed under the steam-boiler. The 1000
gallons of liquor yield one ton of sulphate of ammonia,
sufficient acetic acid to produce 13 cwt. of grey acetate of
lime, and 52 gallons of pyroxylic spirit. The tar yields
300 lb. of paraffine, 200 gallons of naphtha, or light hy-
drocarbonaceous oil, and 100 gallons of heavy oils.
The above results are, however, much too favourable for
constant practice. Dr Sullivan has ascertained that none
of the paraffines of commerce are definite bodies; but
mixtures of different isomeric hydrocarbons. In relation
to the distillation of peat, he says :—“ Now that a ready
market exists, I have no doubt that 3 lb. ot paraffine per
ton of good dry peat could be separated, especially by
keeping over the summer oils until winter ; in cold winters,
perhaps even more. Gas enough can be produced to work
the factory (heating stills, &c.), but it has now been satis¬
factorily determined that the larger the supply of gas, the
less will be the yield of tar, and vice versd. I he yield of
tar when the temperature has been carefully attended to,
has fully reached the anticipated quantity ; but neither the
ammonia nor the wood spirit has. I he real source of piofit,
therefore, is the tar. lar about 3 o per cent., paiaffine 0 13
per cent.” {Private co/iimuniccition.')
Thus it will be seen that whether we regard peat as a
fuel, as a source of charcoal, of gas, or of the various other
products named, it cannot, except for the sake of the tar,
be worked at a profit, until the manufactures connected
with it can compete in price with similar products already
in the market. It must, however, be remembered, with
respect to peat as a source of fuel, that while coal would
cost the Irish labourer three times as much as it costs the
Northumbrian cottager ; the peat is at hand, andean be had
almost for nothing. (c. T.)
PECK, Francis, a laborious and learned antiquary, was
born at Stamford, in Lincolnshire, on the 4th of May 1692,
and educated at Cambridge, where he took the degrees of
i
360 PEC PEE
reckham Bachelor and Master of Arts. After several unsuccessful
Peebles *n poetical composition, he, in 1727, published in
shire folio his Academia tertia Anglicana, or the Antiquarian
^ i Annals of Stamford, in Lincoln, Rutland, and Northamp¬
ton Shires, inscribed to John, Duke of Rutland. Peck had
before this time obtained the rectory of Godeby, near Mel¬
ton, in Leicestershire, the only preferment he ever enjoyed.
In 1732 he published the first volume of Desiderata Cu-
riosa, or a collection of various scarce and curious pieces
relating chiefly to matters of English history. This volume
was dedicated to Lord William Manners, and was followed,
in 1735, by a second volume, dedicated to Dr Reynolds,
• Bishop of Lincoln. In the year 1735 Peck printed a com¬
plete catalogue of all the discourses written ibr and against
Popery in the time of King James II., containing in the
whole an account of 457 books and pamphlets, with re¬
ferences after each title, and an alphabetical list of the
writers on each side. After editing Dr Hammond’s Litters
in 1739, he next year produced Jlemoirs of the Life and
Actions of Oliver Cromwell, as delivered in Three Pane¬
gyrics of Noll, written in Latin, and supposed to have
been composed by John Milton, I^atin Secretary to Crom¬
well; also, New Memoirs of the Life and Poetical Worhs
of Mr John Milton, with an Examination cf Milton,s Style,
and Explanatory and Critical A otes on different passages
in Milton and Shakspeare, together with sundry poetical
effusions, “in imitation of Milton.” At his death in 1743,
this singularly industrious author is said to have had no
fewer than nine different works in contemplation.
PECKHAM, a large suburban hamlet of London, in the
county of Surrey, 4 miles S.S.E. of the metropolis, consists
of a long line of handsome edifices. Among its numerous
churches belonging to different sects there are some hand¬
some buildings. It has several schools, a lunatic asylum,
and a large silk factory. Pop. (1851) 19,444.
PEDAL {pedale in Italian) is a musical term of various
meanings. For example, pedal means one of the largest
pipes, or one of the foot-keys, of an organ ; or the foot-piece
attached to a piano-forte, a harp, or the like, and by which,
in the former, the intensity of the sound is modified, and,
in the latter, the chromatic changes of intonation are pro¬
duced. It also signifies a particular sort of passage in the
course of a piece of music, where the harmony moves upon
a sustained sound, which is either the dominant or the
tonic of the key. (See Music.) (g. f. g.)
PEDESTAL. See Glossary to Architecture.
PEDIMENT. See Glossary to Architecture.
PEDOMETER (ttovs, a foot, and ffrpov, a measure),
an ingenious instrument in the form of a watch, designed
to ascertain the space of ground over which one has tra¬
velled. Of the various contrivances of this sort, that of
Payne, watchmaker in Bond Street, London, is decidedly
the most convenient. The instrument is so arranged that
when the body of the traveller is raised by the spring of
his foot in walking, or by the motion of Ins horse, a small
lever is jerked downwards which communicates its motion
to the wheel-work of the machine. The distance passed
over is pointed out in miles on a dial-plate, by means of an
index. In adapting the pedometer to carriage travelling,
the ordinary horizontal position of the lever becomes per¬
pendicular, and the instrument is allowed to oscillate like a
pendulum.
PEEBLESSHIRE, or Tiveeddale. a county in Scot¬
land, situated between 55. 24. and 55. 50. X. Lat., and be¬
tween 2. 45. and 3. 23. W. Long. It is bounded on the
N. by Mid-Lothian or Edinburghshire, E. by Selkirkshire,
S. by Dumfriesshire, and W. by Lanarkshire. Its great¬
est extent from X. to S. is about 30 miles, and its greatest
breadth from E. to W. about 22; the area being 354
square miles, or 226,488 English acres, of which only about
an eighth part is fit for cultivation. It is divided into six¬
teen parishes, twelve of which form the presbytery of Peebles-
Peebles, and four belong to that of Biggar; but all are shire,
under the synod of Lothian and Tweeddale.
The surface of this county is hilly, and towards the S.
mountainous, the principal high grounds in that quarter
being Hartfell, 2635, Broadlaw, 2740, and Dollarlaw, 2790
feet above the level of the sea. None of the southern
counties of Scotland have so great a general elevation as
Peeblesshire; yet, with few exceptions, the hills are covered
with green herbage, and afford good sheep pasture. On
the banks of its streams are many pleasant and fertile spots,
and the large extent of young plantation has added greatly
to the amenity of the district, which wras formerly very bare
of timber. The soil of the cultivated land, lying chiefly
on the sides of the lower hills and the banks of the streams,
is for the most part a light loam, with clay, moss, and moor
on the high grounds. Graywacke, both massive and
slaty, is the prevailing rock in the S. and middle of the
county, and there are many good quarries in the neigh¬
bourhood of Peebles, though in other places it is too
laminated in its structure to be good for building. In
the northern parts old red sandstone is the principal
formation. Coal, limestone, and freestone abound in
the parishes of Linton and Newlands, on the N. side of
the county, and are profitably ivorked in the former of
these parishes; in the latter ironstone is also found. At
Stobo, slate of a good quality is quarried, and sold with ad¬
vantage to the proprietor. In the parish of Traquair there
is also a slate quarry, but the increased use of Welsh slates
has affected the demand. The river Tweed, from which
this district is often called Tweeddale, rises from a well ot
the same name, in the parish of Tweedsmuir, in the south¬
western extremity of the county, about 1500 feet above the
level of the sea, and, flowing first NT.E. and then E., divid¬
ing the county into two nearly equal parts, it passes into
Selkirkshire at Gatehope Burn, after a winding course
of about 36 miles. The Annan and the Clyde have
their source in the same hill. Of the other streams, here
called waters, the most considerable are Biggar, Lyne,
Peebles or Eddlestone, Leithen, Manner, and Quair, which
fall into the Tweed ; and the North and South Esks, which
pursue their course into Mid-Lothian. The lakes or lochs
are St Mary’s, Waterloch, and Slipperfield. These, as well
as the rivulets, abound in the common fresh-water fish, and
roost of the streams are occasionally visited by a few salmon ;
but these are not found in such numbers during the fish¬
ing season, even in the Tweed, within the bounds of this
county, as to afford a fishery that will pay rent.
The climate of Peeblesshire, owing to its elevation, is
sharp and bracing, but as regards its other characteristics
is similar to the rest of the south of Scotland.
As this is almost exclusively a pastoral country, the
farms are in general targe, most of them being from 1000
to 4000 acres. On the arable land they are small, the
greater number being below 100 acres. These are in ge¬
neral held on leases for nineteen years, as in other parts of
Scotland. The average rental in 1843 was above 6s. an
acre. This is chiefly derived from live stock, especially
sheep, of which there may be about 120,000. These were
formerly of the black-faced heath variety, sometimes called
Tweeddale sheep, from the name of the county, or Linton
sheep, from the name of a village on the northern side of
the district, where great fairs are held for the sale of them ;
but for a number of years the Cheviot breed, which bears
a much more valuable fleece, has been established on many
of the lower hills, and the majority of those now fed in the
county are of this variety. The crops are the same as in
other parts of Scotland, excepting that wheat is cultivated
only upon a very small scale. A variety of oats, called the
red oat, and sometimes the Magbiehill oat, from its being
first cultivated here on that estate, is very well adapted to
PEE
Peebles, hish and exposed situations, both because it ripens earlier
r than the common kind, and is less liable to be beaten out by
wind, whilst on good land it is found to be highly productive.
Peeblesshire contains numerous noblemen’s and gentle¬
men’s seats, some of which are remarkable for antiquity or
beauty. The principal of these are :—Nidpath Castle, be¬
longing to the Earl of Wemyss; Traquair House, to the Earl
of Traquair ; Darnhall, to Lord Elibank ; King’s-Meadows,
to Sir Adam Hay,‘Bart.; Stobo Castle, to Sir Graham-Gra¬
ham Montgomery, Bart., and others. The old valued rental
was L.4328; the new valuation for 1858-9 was L.78,361.
The number of proprietors is 193. The principal remains
of antiquity are rude monumental stones at Stobo and
Gatehope ; Roman camps at Lyne, Linton, and Manner;
and British chesters, or hill forts, in various places. Drochil
Castle in the parish of Newlands, which, however, was
never finished, and Nidpath Castle in the parish of
Peebles, are the only two which are in tolerable preser¬
vation ; but vestiges of ancient castles or towers abound in
the whole valley of the Tweed. The remains of the
Castle of Tinnes or Thanes are 6 feet in thickness, and
the mortar is as hard as the stone.
The county is traversed by numerous roads, which are
kept in good repair. The principal are those which lead
from Peebles to Edinburgh, Glasgow, Dumfries, and Mel¬
rose. The town of Peebles is also connected by rail¬
way with Edinburgh. The principal towns or villages in
Peeblesshire are, Peebles, Linton, Eddlestone, Skirling,
Broughton, and Innerleithen. At this last place there is
a mineral well, which annually attracts numerous visi¬
tors to the village ; and both Peebles and Innerleithen
have become favourite resorts for summer visitors. Several
woollen manufactories are in operation in Innerleithen.
According to the census of 1851, Peeblesshire contained
in all 31 places of worship, of which 13 belonged to the
Established Church, 8 to the Free Church, 5 to the United
Presbyterians, 2 to the Episcopalians, and 1 to the Inde¬
pendents. There were at the same time 28 day-schools,
with 1526 scholars; and 19 Sunday schools, with 879
scholars. The county, including the town of Peebles, re¬
turns one member to the House of Commons. The par¬
liamentary constituency in 1857 wTas 389. Pop. (1811)
9935; (1821) 10.046; (1831) 10,578; (1841) 10,499;
(1851) 10,738.
Peebles, the county town of Peeblesshire, stands on the
left bank of the river Tweed, here crossed by a bridge of
five arches, 22 miles S. of Edinburgh, with which it is con¬
nected by railway. The Eddleston Water, which here joins
the Tweed, flows through the town, divicVng it into an old
and a new portion. The latter contains many substantial
buildings; and since the completion of the railway nume¬
rous elegant villas have been built for summer residences.
Peebles possesses a parish church, a Free church, and places
of worship for United Presbyterians, Episcopalians, and
Roman Catholics ; also a town-house, jail, grammar-school,
and scientific institute. The Chambers’ Institution, the
gilt of \\ illiam Chambers, Esq., to his native place, is a
picturesque suite of buildings, containing reading-room,
gallery of art, library, museum, and public hall. Peebles
is not noted for any particular trade or manufacture. It was
longahunting residence of the Scottish kings, and Alexander
III. founded here in 1260 a monastery for Red Friars, some
remains of which still exist. In 1357 it sent two members to
Parliament. It was destroyed by the English in 1545, but
was afterwards rebuilt and surrounded by walls, which con¬
tinued standing till 1707. The burgh is governed by a
provost, 2 bailies, a treasurer, dean of guild, and 7 coun¬
cillors : municipal constituency, 97. The annual revenue
of the burgh property is about L.300. The annual value
of real property in the burgh in 1858-9 was L.4592. Pop.
(1851) 1982; inhabited houses, 310.
vol. xvn.
PEE 361
PEEL, The Right Honourable Sir Robert, Bart., Peel,
twice prime minister, and for many years the leading ✓
statesman of England, was born on the 5th of February
1788 in a cottage near Chamber Hall, the seat of his family,
in the neighbourhood of Bury—Chamber Hall itself being
at the time under repair. He was a scion of that new
aristocracy of wealth which sprang from the rapid pro¬
gress of mechanical discovery and manufactures in the
latter part of the eighteenth century. His ancestors were
Yorkshire yeomen in the district of Craven, whence they
migrated to Blackburn in Lancashire. His grandfather,
Robert Peel, first of Peelfold, and afterwards of Brookside,
near Blackburn, was a calico-printer, who, appreciating the
discovery of his townsman Flargreaves, took to cotton¬
spinning with the spinning-jenny, and grew a wealthy man.
His father Robert Peel, third son of the last named, carried
on the same business at Bury, with still greater success, in
partnership with Mr Yates, whose daughter Ellen he mar¬
ried; made aprincelyfortune ; became the owner of Drayton
Manor, and member of Parliament for the neighbouring
borough of Tamworth ; was a trusted and honoured, as well
as ardent, supporter of Mr Pitt; contributed magnificently
towards the support of that leader’s war policy; was re¬
warded with a baronetcy; and founded a rich and powerful
house, on whose arms he emblazoned, and in whose motto
he commemorated, the prosperous industry from which it
sprang. The great minister was always proud of the self-
won honours of his family ; and as a public man his heart
strongly felt the bias of his birth. He was sent, however,
to be educated with the sons of the old nobility and gentry
at Harrow, one of the most aristocratic of English schools,
and at Christ Church, then the most aristocratic of English
colleges. At Harrow, according to the accounts of his
contemporaries, he was a steady, industrious boy; the best
scholar in the school; fonder of solitary walks than of the
games of his companions, but ready to help those who were
duller than himself; and not unpopular among his fellows.
At Christ Church, where he entered as a gentleman com¬
moner, he studied hard, and was the first who, under
the new examination statutes, took a first class both in
classics and in mathematics. His examination in the Schools
for his B.A. degree in Michaelmas term 1808 was an aca¬
demical ovation in presence of a numerous audience, who
came to hear the first man of the day; and a relation who
Avas at Oxford at the time has recorded that the triumph,
like both the triumphs and reverses of after-life, was calmly
borne. From his classical studies Sir Robert derived not
only the classical, though somewhat pompous character of
his speeches, and the Latin quotations with which thev were
often happily interspersed, but something of his lofty meal
of political ambition. Nor did he ever cease to love these
pursuits of his youth ; and in 1837, when elected lord
rector of Glasgow university, he, in his inaugural speech,
passed a glowing eulogy on classical education, lo his
mathematical training, which was then not common among
public men, he no doubt owed in part his method, his
clearness, his great power of grasping steadily and worx-
ino- out difficult and complicated questions. His speeches
show that, in addition to his academical knowledge, he was
well versed in English literature, in history, and in the
principles of law. In after-life he had a taste for art, though
none for music, and took an interest in science, though he
had no scientific education. While reading hard, he did
not neglect to develop his tall and vigorous frame, and fortify
his strong constitution, by manly and gentlemanlike exer¬
cises ; and though he lost his life partly through his bad riding,
he was always a good shot and an untiring walker after
came. Sprung from the most religious class of English
society, he grew up and remained through life a religious
man; and from that source drew deep conscientiousness
and tranquillity under all difficulties and in all fortunes.
362
PEEL.
Peel. His Oxford education confirmed him in the principles of
the Protestant Church of England. His practical mind
remained satisfied with the doctrines of his youth ; and he
never showed that he had studied the great religious con¬
troversies, or that he understood the great religious move¬
ments of his day.
In 1809, being then in his twenty-second year, he was
brought into Parliament for the close borough of Cashel,
which he afterwards exchanged for Chippenham ; and com¬
menced his parliamentary career under the eye of his
father, then member for Tamworth, who fondly saw in him
the future leader of the Tory party. Pitt, Fox, and Burke
were gone. Sheridan shone with an expiring ray. But in
that House of Commons sat Wilberforce, ^ indham, Tier¬
ney, Grattan, Perceval, Castlereagh, Plunkett, Romilly,
Mackintosh, Burdett, Whitbread, Horner, Brougham, Par¬
nell, Huskisson, and above all, George Canning. Lord Pal¬
merston entered the House at the same time, and Lord
John Russell a few years afterw’ards. Among these men
young Peel had to rise. And he rose, not by splendid
eloquence, by profound political philosophy, or by great
originality of thought, but by the closest attention to all his
parliamentary duties, by a study of all the business ot Par-
liament, which made him at length perfect master of all
public questions and of all public interests, and by a style
of speaking which, owing its force not to high flights ot
oratory, but to knowledge of the subject in hand, clearness
of exposition, close reasoning, and tact in dealing with a
parliamentary audience, backed by the character and posi¬
tion of the speaker, improved with his information, practice,
station, and experience, till it gave him an unrivalled com¬
mand over the House of Commons. The Tory party was
then all-powerful at home ; while abroad Europe was at the
feet of Napoleon. But Napoleon’s fortune was about to
turn ; and with the close of the struggle against revolu¬
tionary France, political progress in England was soon to
resume the march which that struggle had arrested. Young
Peel’s lot, however, was cast, through his father, with the
Tory party. In his maiden speech, seconding the Address,
he defended the Walcheren expedition, which he again
defended soon afterwards against the report of Lord Por-
chester’s committee. It is said that even then Lord Liver¬
pool discerned in him a dangerous tendency to think for
himself, and told his father that he must be put at once into
the harness of office. Into the harness of office, at all
events, he was put, being made Under-Secretary for the
Colonies by Mr Perceval in 1811. In 1812, being then
only in his twenty-fifth year, he w’as transferred by Lord
Liverpool to the more important but unhappy post of Se¬
cretary for Ireland. There he was engaged till 1817 in
maintaining, by insurrection acts and other repressive mea¬
sures, English and Protestant ascendancy over a country
heaving with discontent, teeming with conspiracy, and ever
ready to burst into rebellion. A middle course between
Irish parties was impossible. Mr Peel became by the ne¬
cessity of his situation “ Orange Peel,” and plied the esta¬
blished engines of coercion and patronage with a vigorous
hand. At the same time, it wras his regular task to combat
Grattan, Plunkett, Canning, and the other movers and ad¬
vocates of Catholic emancipation in the House of Commons.
He,however,always spoke on thisquestion with a coolness ot
temper wonderful in hot youth, with the utmost courtesy
towards his opponents, and with wTarm expressions ot sym¬
pathy and even of admiration for the Irish people. Nor was
the ground he took against the Catholics that of religious
principle never to be abandoned, but. that of political ex¬
pediency, which political necessity might overcome. He also,
thus early, did his best to advocate and promote secular
education in Ireland as a means of reconciling sects and
raising the character of the people. He materially im¬
proved the conduct of ordinary business in his office, and
gave great satisfaction to merchants and others with whom
he had to deal. But his greatest service to Ireland as
secretary was the institution of the regular Irish constabu-
lary, nicknamed after him “ Peelers,” for the protection of
life and property in a country where neither life nor pro¬
perty were secure. His moderation of tone did not save
him from the violent abuse of O’Connell, whom he, young,
hot-tempered (though his temper was generally under per¬
fect control), and sensitive on the point of honour, was ill-
advised enough to challenge,—an affair which covered them
both with ridicule at the time, and left O’Connell his bitter
enemy for life. In 1817 he obtained the highest parlia¬
mentary distinction of the Tory party, by being elected
member for the university of Oxford—an honour for which
he was chosen in preference to Canning on account of his
hostility to Catholic emancipation, Lord Eldon lending him
his best support. In the following year he resigned the
Irish secretanship, of the odious work of which he had
long been very weary, and remained out of office till 1822.
But he still supported government with official zeal, even in
the question of the “ Peterloo massacre.” In the affair of
Queen Caroline, however, he stood somewhat aloof, not ap¬
proving the cause of government, and sensitive to popular
opinion ; and when Canning retired on account of this affair,
he declined Lord Liverpool’s invitation to take the vacant
place in the cabinet. During this break in his tenure of
office he had some time for reflection, which there was enough
in the aspect of the political world to move. But early office
had done its work. It had given him excellent business
habits, great knowledge, and a high position ; but it had
made him somewhat stiff, somewhat punctilious, some¬
what too cold and reserved to win the hearts of those
whose confidence he might command, and somewhat over
anxious for formal justifications when he had better have
left the essential patriotism and probity of his conduct to
the judgment of men of honour and the heart of the people.
At the same time he was no pedant in business; in cor¬
responding on political subjects he loved to throw off offi¬
cial forms, and communicate his views with the freedom of
private correspondence; and where his confidence was
given, it was given without reserve.
At this period he was made chairman of the Bullion
Committee, on the death of Mr Horner. He was chosen
for this important office by Mr Huskisson, Mr Ricardo, and
their fellow Economists, who saw in him a mind open to
conviction, though he owed hereditary allegiance to Pitt’s
financial policy, and had actually voted with his Pittite
father for a resolution of Lord Liverpool’s government
denying the existence of any depreciation in the paper
currency. The choice proved judicious. Mr Peel was con¬
verted to the currency doctrines of the Economists, and pro¬
claimed his conversion in a great speech on the 24th of
May 1819, in which he moved and carried four resolutions
embodying the recommendations of the Bullion Committee
in favour of a return to cash payments. His financial
reputation was made, and his currency doctrines wTere fixed,
from that hour; and his co-operation with the Economists
on this occasion gave a liberal turn to his commercial prin¬
ciples. At the same time, he somewhat diverged from his
party, and particularly from his father, who remained faith¬
ful to Mr Pitt’s depreciated paper, and between whom and
his schismatic son a solemn and touching passage occurred
in the debate. The author of the Cash Payments Act had
often to defend his policy; and he generally defended it
firmlv, though he may be said to have given way in being
a party to the Small Notes Respite Act of 1822. The
act has been often said to have been hard on the debtor
interest, including the nation as debtor, because it required
debts to be paid in cash which had been contracted in de¬
preciated paper; and Mr Peel, as heir to a great fundholder,
was even charged with being biassed by his personal inter-
PEEL.
3G3
ests. But it is answered that the Bank Restriction Acts,
under which the depreciated paper had circulated, them¬
selves contained a provision for a return to cash payments
six months after peace.
In 1820 Mr Peel married Julia, daughter of General
Sir John Floyd, who bore him five sons and two daughters.
One of his sons, Frederick, he lived to see a rising man in
the House of Commons; while another, William, the
sailor, has run a bright course in another sphere, and found
a glorious grave. The writers who have most severely
censured Sir Robert Peel as a public man, have suspended
their censures to dwell on the virtues of his private and
domestic life. It was virtuous and it was happy, drawing
happiness from the purest source. He was *not only a
most loving husband and father, but a true and warm¬
hearted friend. In Whitehall Gardens or at Drayton
Manor he gladly opened his mind, wearied with the cares
of state, to the enjoyments of a circle in which it was
his pleasure and his pride to gather some of the most dis¬
tinguished intellects of the day. He loved free and cheer¬
ful talk, in which he showed a keen sense of the ridiculous,
and a dry, sarcastic humour; which often broke out also
in his speeches in the House of Commons. He loved the
conversation of men of science; he loved art, and was a
great collector of pictures; he loved farming and agricul¬
tural improvements ; he loved promoting useful works, and
the advancement of knowledge; he loved making his
friends, dependents, tenants, and neighbours happy. And,
cold as he was in public, even to those whom he desired to
win, yet in his gay and social hour, few men whose minds
were so laden could be gayer or more social than Sir
Robert Peel.
In 1822 Mr Peel consented to strengthen the enfeebled
ministry of Lord Liverpool by becoming Home Secretary;
and in that capacity he had again to undertake the office of
coercing the growing discontent of Ireland, of which he
remained the real administrator, and had again to lead in
the House of Commons the opposition to the rising cause of
Catholic emancipation. In 1825, being beaten on the Catho¬
lic question in the House of Commons, he wished to resign
office; but Lord Liverpool pleaded that his resignation would
break up the government. He found a happier and more con¬
genial task in reforming and humanizing the criminal law,
especially those parts of it which relate to offences against pro¬
perty and offences punishable by death. The five acts in which
Mr Peel accomplished this great work, the first step towards
a complete and civilized code, as well as the great speech of
March 9, 1826, in which he opened the subject to the
House, will form one of the most solid and enduring monu¬
ments of his fame. Criminal law reform was the reform of
Romilly and Mackintosh, from the hands of the latter of
whom Peel received it. But the masterly bills in which it
was embodied were the bills of Peel,—not himself a crea¬
tive genius, but, like the founder of his house, a profound
appreciator of other men’s ere Jons, and unrivalled in the
power of giving them practical and complete effect. This
great measure, beyond the sphere of party, was probably
also another step in the emancipation of Mr Peel’s mind.
In 1827 the Liverpool Ministry was broken up by the
fatal illness of its chief; and under the new premier,
George Canning, Mr Peel, like the Duke of Wellington
and other high Ton,- members of Lord Liverpool’s cabinet,
refused to serve. Mr Canning and Mr Peel were rivals;
but we need not interpret as mere personal rivalry, that
which was certainly in part at least a real difference of con¬
nection and opinion. Canning took a Liberal line, and
was supported by many of the Whigs; the seceders were
Tories, and it is difficult to see how their position in Can¬
ning s cabinet could have been otherwise than a false one.
Separation led to public coolness and occasional approaches
to bitterness on both sides in debate. But there seems no
ground for saying that Mr Peel “hunted Canning to death.” Peel*
Canning himself said to a friend, who reported it to Sir
Robert Peel, that “ Peel was the only man who had be¬
haved decently towards him.” Their private intimacy re¬
mained uninterrupted to the end; and Canning’s son after-
w-ards entered public life under the auspices of Peel. The
charge of having urged Catholic emancipation on Lord
Liverpool in 1825, and opposed Mr Canning for being a
friend to it in 1827, made against Sir Robert Peel in the
fierce corn-law debates of 1846, has been withdrawn by
those who made it.
In January 1828, after Canning’s death, the Duke of
Wellington formed a Tory government, destined to be the
last, in which Mr Peel was Home Secretary, leader of the
House of Commons, and probably virtual prime minister.
Of this cabinet, Tory as it was, the impracticable Lord
Eldon was not a member, and Mr Huskisson and four more
of Canning’s friends were. Its policy was to endeavour to
stave off the growing demand for organic change by admi¬
nistrative reform, and by lightening the burdens of the
people. The civil list was retrenched with an unsparing
hand, and the public expenditure w-as reduced low-er than
it had been since the Revolutionary war, or has been since.
Mr Peel also introduced into London the improved system
of police which he had previously introduced with so much
success into Ireland. But the tide ran too strong to be
thus headed. First the government were compelled, after a
defeat in the House of Commons, to acquiesce in the repeal
of the Test and Corporation Acts, Mr Peel bringing over
their High Church supporters, as far as he could, through
Dr Lloyd, Bishop of Oxford, his tutor at Christ Church,
and now his beloved friend and the partner of his counsels
in political matters affecting the interests of the Church.
Immediately afterwards, the question of Catholic emanci¬
pation was brought to a crisis by the menacing power of
the Catholic Association and the election of O’Connell for
the county of Clare. Mr Peel expressed to the Duke of
Wellington his conviction that the Catholic question must
be settled. The Duke consented. The consent of the
king, which could scarcely have been obtained except by
the Duke and Mr Peel, was extorted, withdrawn (the
ministers being out for a few hours), and again extorted;
and on the 5th of March 1829, Mr Peel proposed Catholic
emancipation in a speech of five hours and a half, which
was listened to with unflagging attention, and concluded
amidst cheers which were heard in Westminster Hall. The
apostate was overwhelmed with obloquy. Having been
elected for the University of Oxford as a leading oppo¬
nent of the Catholics, he had thought it right to resign his
seat on being converted to emancipation. His friends put
him again in nomination, but he was defeated by Sir R.
H. Inglis, though the great majority of distinction and
intellect was on his side. He took refuge in the close
borough of Westbury, whence he afterwards removed to
Tam worth, for which he sat till his death preferring that
secure and friendly connection to the offers of larger con¬
stituencies. Catholic emancipation was forced on Mr Peel
by circumstances ; but it was mainly owing to him that the
measure was thorough, and unclogged by invidious condi¬
tions. This great concession, however, did not save the Tory
government. The French Revolution of July 1830 gave fresh
strength to the movement against them, though, schooled
by the past, they promptly recognised King Louis Philippe.
The parliamentary reform movement was joined by some
of their offended Protestant supporters. The Duke of
Wellington committed them fatally against all reform, first
by cashiering Mr Huskisson for voting in favour of giving
the forfeited franchise of East Retford to Birmingham, and
then by a violent anti-reform declaration in the House of
Lords. The elections went against them on the demise of
the Crown; they were compelled, by popular feeling, to
364 PEE L.
el- put off the king’s visit to the city ; they were beaten on
Sir H. Parnell’s motion for a committee on the civil list,
and resigned.
While in office, Mr Peel succeeded to the baronetcy, Dray¬
ton Manor, and a great estate, by the death of his father,
May 3, 1830. The old man had lived to see his fondest
hopes fulfilled in the greatness of his son; but he had also
lived to see that a father must not expect to fix his son’s
opinions,—above all, the opinions of such a son as Sir Robert
Peel, and in such an age as that which followed the French
Revolution.
The ability and obstinacy of Sir Robert Peel’s opposition
to the Reform Bill won back for him the allegiance of his
party. His opposition was able and obstinate; but it was
temperate, and not such as to inflame the fierce passions of
the time, delay the return of civil peace, or put an insur¬
mountable barrier between his friends and the more mo¬
derate among their opponents. Once only he betrayed the
suppressed fire of his temper. It was in the famous debate
of the 22d April 1831, when his speech w'as broken off by
the arrival of the king to dissolve the Parliament which had
thrown out reform. He refused to join the Duke of Well¬
ington in the desperate enterprize of forming a Tory govern¬
ment at the height of the storm, when the Grey ministry
had gone out on the refusal of the king to promise them an
unlimited creation of peers. By this conduct he secured
for his party the full benefit of the reaction which was sure,
and which he no doubt knew was sure, to ensue. The
general election of 1832, after the passing of the Reform
Bill, left him with barely a hundred followers in the House
of Commons ; but this handful rapidly swelled under his
management into the great Conservative party. He frankly
accepted the Reform Act, stamped it as final, taught his
party to register instead of despairing, appealed to the in¬
telligence of the middle classes, whose new-born power he
appreciated, steadily supported the Whig ministers against
the Radicals and O’Connell, and gained every moral ad¬
vantage which the most dignified and constitutional tactics
could afford. The changes which the Reform Bill neces¬
sarily drew with it, such as municipal reform, he rather
watched in the Conservative interest than strongly op¬
posed. To this policy, and to the great Parliamentary
powers of its author, it was mainly due that, in the course
of a few years, the Conservatives were as strong in the
reformed Parliament as the Tories had been in the unre¬
formed. It is vain to deny the praise of genius to such
a leader, though his genius may have been of a practical,
not of a speculative or imaginative kind. Nor is it wonder¬
ful if the skill of such a pilot, and a pilot who had steered
for many years over such waters, sometimes resembled
craft. His skill sometimes resembled craft.; but the Duke
of Wellington’s emphatic eulogy on him was, “ Of all the
men I ever knew, he had the greatest regard for truth.”
The Duke might have added that his own question, “ How
is the King’s government to be carried on in a reformed
Parliament ?” was mainly solved by the temperate and
constitutional policy of Sir Robert Peel, and by his personal
influence on the debates and proceedings of the House of
Commons during the years which followed the Reform Act.
In 1834, on the dismissal of the Melbourne ministry,
power came to Sir Robert Peel before he expected or
desired it. He hurried from Rome at the call of the
Duke of Wellington,—whose sagacious modesty knew his
superior in politics, and yielded him the first place,—
and became Prime Minister, holding the two offices of
First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Ex¬
chequer. He vainly sought to include in his cabinet the
two recent seceders from the Whigs, Lord Stanley and Sir
James Graham. A dissolution gave him a great increase
of strength in the House, but not enough. He was beaten
on the election of the Speaker at the opening of the session
of 1835, and, after struggling on for six weeks longer, was Peel,
finally beaten, and resigned on the question of appropriat- v-
ing the surplus revenues of the Church in Ireland to na¬
tional education. His time had not yet come; but the
capacity, energy, and resource he displayed in this short
tenure of office raised him immensely in the estimation
of the House, his party, and the country. Of the great
budget of practical reforms which he brought forward, the
plan for the commutation of tithes, the ecclesiastical com¬
mission, and the plan for settling the question of dissenters’
marriages, bore fruit, then or afterwards. His scheme for
settling the question of dissenters’ marriages, framed in the
amplest spirit of liberality, was a striking instance of his
habit of doing thoroughly and without reserve that which
he had once made up his mind to do.
From 1835 to 1840 he pursued the same course of
patient and far-sighted opposition, the end of which, sure,
though distant, was not only office, but power. In 1837
the Conservative members of the House of Commons, with
victory now in sight, gave their leader a grand banquet at
Merchant Taylors’ Hall, where he proclaimed, in a great
speech, the creed and objects of his party. In 1839, the
Whigs being beaten on the Jamaica question, he was called
on to form a government, but failed, through the refusal of
the Queen, by advice of Lords John Russell and Palmer¬
ston, to part with the ladies of her bedchamber, whom he
believed, or professed to believe it essential to replace by
ladies not connected with his political opponents. His time
was not even yet fully come. In 1840 he was hurried, it is
believed, by the ardour of his followers, into a premature mo¬
tion of want of confidence, which was brought forward by
Sir John Yarde Buller, and failed. But in the following
year a similar motion was carried by a majority of one, and
the Whigs were compelled to appeal to the country. The
result was a majority of ninety-one against them, on a motion
of want of confidence in the autumn of 1841 ; upon which
they resigned; and Sir Robert Peel becoming First Lord
of the Treasury, with a commanding majority in both Houses
of Parliament, the country in his favour, and a staff of col¬
leagues and subordinates unrivalled perhaps in the annals
of English administrations, grasped with no doubtful grasp
the reins of power.
The crisis called for a master-hand. The finances were
in disorder. For some years there had been a growing de¬
ficit, which for 1841 was upwards of two millions, and at¬
tempts to supply this deficit by additions to assessed taxes
and customs duties had failed. Distress and discontent
reigned in the country, especially among the trading and
manufacturing classes. The great financier took till the
spring of 1842 to mature his plans. He then boldly sup¬
plied the deficit by imposing an income-tax on all incomes
above a certain amount. He accompanied this tax with a
reform of the tariff by which prohibitory duties were re¬
moved and other duties abated on a vast number of articles
of import, especially the raw materials of manufactures and
prime articles of food. The increased consumption, as the
reformer expected, countervailed the reduction of duty.
The income-tax was renewed, and the reform of the tariff
carried still further on the same principle, in 1845. The
result was, in place of a deficit of upwards of two millions,
a surplus of five millions in 1845, and the removal of seven
millions and a half of taxes up to 1847, not only without
loss, but with gain to the ordinary revenue of the country.
The prosperous state of the finances and of public affairs
also permitted a reduction of the interest on a portion of the
national debt, giving a yearly saving at once of L.650,000,
and ultimately of a million and a quarter to the public. In
1844 another great financial measure, the Bank Charter Act,
was passed, and, though severely controverted, and twice
suspended at a desperate crisis, has ever since regulated
the currency of the country. In Ireland, O’Connell’s agi-
■
PEEL.
365
Peel, tation for the repeal of the Union had now assumed threat-
ening proportions, and verged upon rebellion. The great
agitator was prosecuted, with his chief adherents, for con¬
spiracy and sedition ; and though the conviction was quashed
for informality, Repeal was quelled in its chief. At the same
time a healing hand was extended to Ireland. The Chari¬
table Bequests Act gave Roman Catholics their fair share
in the administration of charities, and legal power to endow
their own religion. The allowances to Maynooth were
largely increased, notwithstanding violent Protestant op¬
position. Three queen’s colleges, for the higher education
of all the youth of Ireland, without distinction of religion,
were founded, notwithstanding violent opposition, both Pro¬
testant and Roman Catholic. The principle of toleration,
once accepted, w'as thoroughly carried out. The last rem¬
nants of the penal laws were swept from the statute-book,
and justice was extended to the Roman Catholic Church in
Canada and Malta. In the same spirit acts were passed
for clearing from doubt Irish Presbyterian marriages, for
quieting the titles of a large number of Dissenters’ chapels in
England, and removing the municipal disabilities of the Jews.
The grant for national education was trebled, and an at¬
tempt was made, though in vain, to introduce effective edu¬
cation clauses into the factory bills. To the alienation of any
part of the revenues of the Established Church, Sir Robert
Peel, a Conservative to the last, never would consent; but
he had issued the Ecclesiastical Commission, and he now
made better provision for a number of populous parishes
by a redistribution of part of the revenues of the church.
The weakest part of the conduct of this great government,
perhaps, was its failure to control the railway mania by
promptly laying down the lines on a government plan. It
had prepared a palliative measure in 1846, but was com¬
pelled to sacrifice this, like all other secondary measures,
to the repeal of the Corn Laws. It failed also, though
not without an effort, to avert the great schism in the
Church of Scotland. Abroad it was as prosperous as at
home. It had found war in China and disaster and dis¬
grace in Affghanistan. It speedily ended the war in China
with success, and that in Affghanistan with honour. By
the hand of its Governor-General of India, the invading
Sikhs were destroyed upon the Sutlej. M. Guizot has
said that the objects—not only the ostensible, but the real
objects—of Sir Robert Peel’s foreign policy were peace and
justice among nations. The angry and dangerous ques¬
tions with France touching the right of search, the war in
Morocco, and the Tahiti affair, and the angry and dangerous
questions with the United States touching the Maine boun¬
dary and the Oregon territory, were happily settled by
frank and patient negotiation. In this, and in other parts of
his administration, Sir Robert Peel was well seconded by
the ability of his colleagues; but the Premier himself was
the soul of all.
But there was a canker in all this greatness. There
were malcontents in Sir Robert Peel’s party whose pre¬
sence often caused embarrassment, and twice collision
and scandal. The Young Englanders disliked him because
he had hoisted the flag of Conservatism instead of Tory¬
ism on the morrow of the Reform Bill. The strong phi¬
lanthropists and Tory Chartists disliked him because he
■was a strict economist and an upholder of the new poor
law. But the fatal question was protection. That ques¬
tion was being fast brought to a crisis by public opinion
and the Anti-Corn Law League. Sir Robert Peel had
been long in principle a free trader. Since his accession
to power a new responsibility had fallen on him, which
compelled him to think less of a class and more of the
people. He had expressed to M. Guizot a deep, nay, a
passionate conviction that something must be done to re¬
lieve the suffering and precarious condition of the labour¬
ing classes. He had lowered the duties of the sliding
scale, and thereby caused the secession from the cabinet
of the Duke of Buckingham. He had alarmed the farmers ^
by admitting foreign cattle and meat under his new tariff,
and by admitting Canadian corn. He had done his best in
his speeches to put the maintenance of the corn laws on
low ground, and to wean the landed interest from their
reliance on protection. But to protection the landed in¬
terest remained wedded ; and it is hard to say how far Sir
Robert Peel himself dreaded the consequences of repeal to
the steadiness of prices and to mortgaged estates. The
approach of the Irish famine in 1845 decisively turned the
wavering balance. The ports must be opened, and being
opened, they could not again be closed. The Clare elec¬
tion and Catholic Emancipation were {flayed over again.
Sir Robert proposed to his cabinet the repeal of the corn
laws. Lord Stanley and the Duke of Buccleuch dissented,
and Sir Robert resigned. But Lord John Russell failed
to form a new government. Sir Robert again came into
office; and now, with the consent of all the cabinet but
Lord Stanley, who retired, he, in a great speech on the
27th January 1846, brought the repeal of the Corn Laws
before the House of Commons. In the long and fierce
debate that ensued he was overwhelmed, both by political
and personal enemies, with the most virulent invective,
which he bore with his wonted calmness, and to which he
made no retorts. His measure was carried; but imme¬
diately afterwards the offended Protectionists, goaded by
Lord George Bentinck and Mr Disraeli, coalesced with the
Whigs, and threw him out on the Irish Coercion Bill. He
went home from his defeat, escorted by a great crowd, who
uncovered as he passed, and immediately resigned. So fell
a Conservative government, which would otherwise have
probably ended only with the life of its chief. I hose who
overthrew Sir Robert Peel have dwelt on what they natur¬
ally believe to have been the bitterness of his fall. It is
certain that he was deeply pained by the rupture with his
party; but it is doubtful whether otherwise Ins fall was so^
bitter. For evening had begun to steal over his long day of
toil ; he had the memory of immense labours gone through,
and of great things achieved in the service of the state ; he
had a kingly position in the country, great wealth, fine tastes,
and a happy home.
Though out of office he was not out of power. He had
“lost a party, but won a nation.” The Whig ministiy
which succeeded him leant much on his support, with which
he never taxed them. He joined them in carrying forward
free trade principles by the repeal^ of the Navigation
Laws. He joined them in carrying forward the principle
of religious liberty by the bill for the emancipation of the
Jews. One great measure was his own. It was the En¬
cumbered Estates Bill for Ireland, which transferred the
land of that country from ruined landlords to solvent own¬
ers capable of performing the duties of property towards the
people. While in office he had probed, by the Devon Com-
mission of Inquiry, the mortal sore which the Encumbered
Estates Act healed. On the 28th of June )8o0 he made a
great speech on the Greek question agamst Loid I almc.-
ston’s foreign policy of interference. This speech being
against the government, was thought to show that he was
ready to return to office. It was his last. On the follow-
in" dav he was thrown from his horse on Constitution
Hill and mortally injured by the fall. Three days he lin¬
gered in all the pain which the quick nerves of genius can
endure. On the fourth (July 2, 1850) he took the sacra¬
ment, bade a calm farewell to his family and friends, and
died ; and a great sorrow fell on the whole land. All the
tributes which respect and gratitude could pay were pafo
to him by the Sovereign, by parliament, by public men of
all parties, bv the country, by the press, and, above all, by
the great towns and the masses of the people to whom he
had given “ bread unleavened with injustice.” He would
Peel.
...J
366 PEE
Peel ]mve been buried among the great men of England in
Peele. ^Yestminster Abbey, but his will desired that he might be
^ in Drayton church. It also renounced a peerage for
his family, as he had before declined the garter for himself
when offered him by the Queen through Lord Aberdeen.
Those who judge Sir Robert Peel will remember that
he was bred a Tory in days when party was a religion ; that
he entered parliament a youth, was in office at twenty-four,
and secretary for Ireland at twenty-five ; that his public
life extended over a long period rife with change; and that
his own changes were all forwards and with the advancing
intellect of the time. They will enumerate the great
practical improvements, and the great acts of legislative
justice of those days,— Catholic emancipation, freedom for
Dissenters, free trade, the great reforms in police, criminal
law, currency, finance, the Irish Encumbered Estates Act,
even the encouragement of agricultural improvement by
loans of public money,—and consider how large a share Sir
Robert Peel had, if not in originating, in giving thorough
practical effect to all. They will consider, that of what he
did nothing has been undone. They will reflect that, as
a parliamentary statesman he could not govern without a
party, and that it is difficult to govern at once for a party
and for the whole people. They will compare his admin¬
istration with those that preceded and those that followed,
and the state and fortunes of his party when he was at its
head, with its state and fortunes after his fall. They will
think of the peace and good-will which his foreign policy
diffused over Europe. They will think of his ardent love of
his country; of his abstinence from intrigue, violence, and
faction ; of his boundless labour through a long life devoted
to the public service. Whether he was a model of states¬
manship may be doubted. Models of statesmanship are
rare, if by a model of statesmanship is meant a great ad¬
ministrator and party leader, a great political philosopher,
and a great independent orator, all in one. But if the
question is, whether he was a ruler loved and trusted by
the English people, there is no arguing against the tears of
a nation.
Those who wish to know more of him will consult his
own posthumous Memoirs, edited by Lord Mahon and Mr
Cardwell, his literary executors ; the four volumes of his
Speeches; M. Guizot’s Sir Robert Peel; Kiinzel’s Leben
und Reden Sir Robert Peel's ; Mr Disraeli’s Life of Lord
George Bentinck ; and The Right Honourable'Benjamin
Disraeli, M.P., a Literary and Political Biography, by
an anonymous author; as well as the general histories of
the time, particularly those of Sir Archibald Alison and
Miss Martineau. (g. g.)
PEEL, a market-town and seaport on the west coast of
the Isle of Man, 15 miles W.N.W. of Douglas, N. Lat.
54. 14., W. Long. 4.42. The cathedral of St Germains in
the town is now only used as a burying-place ; but there is
a modern parish church, a Methodist chapel, a grammar-
school, and other educational establishments. On a small
rocky island, separated from the town by a narrow channel,
very shallow at low-water, stands an ancient castle, which
occupies a large extent of ground, and contains within its
area an old church of St Patrick. The harbour has a pier
and a lighthouse; but it is now much neglected. Pop.
(1851) 2342.
PEELE, George, an English dramatist of the Eliza-
bethan age, is said to have been born in Devonshire in 1552
or 1553. He was a member of Broadgates Llall (now
Pembroke College), Oxford, in 1564. He took his bache¬
lor s degree in 1577; and was made Master of Arts in 1579.
Soon after this date, and with the reputation, according to
Anthony Wood, of being “ a most noted poet in the uni¬
versity, young Peele repaired to the metropolis, adopted
tie piofession of authorship, and occasionally tried his
hand at the histrionic art. He seems to have enjoyed a
PEG
tolerable share of the distinction ordinarily accorded to poets Peele. '
of his time,—viz., extreme poverty. He associated with
Mai low e, Greene, Nash, Lodge, and Watson, and seems to
have mingled as eagerly in the dissipations of the metropolis
as the most dissolute of those gifted men. Peele’s char¬
acter has doubtless suffered, however, from the absurd and
obviously fictitious tract entitled The Merrie Conceited
Tests of George Peele, which represents him as a low and
vulgar sharper, rejoicing in rascality, and glorying in the
meanest frauds. It is doubtless a counterpart to Ben
Johnson's Jests, or the yet more preposterous Merry and
Diverting Exploits of George Buchanan, commonly called
the King's Fool. Honest old Dekker introduces us to
Peele and his set in the Elysian fields amid the “ Grove of
Bay Trees,” where, seated amid thick laurel, by a stream
“ that made music in the running,” “ from them came forth
such harmonious sounds that birdes build nests onely in the
trees there to teach tunes to their young ones prettily.”
Peele was not the sweetest singer there, however, for young
Kit Marlowe was among them. The date of Peele’s death
is unknown. He was dead in 1598, as appears from the
Palladis Tamia of Francis Meres, who informs us, with
what truth it is difficult to say, that his end was hastened
by his vices.
The earliest of Peele’s productions known to us is a copy
of verses prefixed to Watson’s 'EKaro/^Tra^ta, published
about 1581. Besides a number of miscellaneous poems,
some of them possessing very great merit, speeches for
pageants, &c., we find in Mr Dyce’s collection of Peele’s
writings six dramas in all, but forming not more, in the
estimation of that judicious critic, than one-half of his entire
dramatic works. In 1584 his pastoral drama of the Ar¬
raignment of Paris was printed anonymously; but the
allusion to it by Peele’s friend Nash, in the Preface to
Greene’s Arcadia, 1587, leaves no doubt as to the author¬
ship. The Famous Chronicle History of King Edward 1.
appeared in 1593, and possesses much interest, as well from
its extravagance as from its occasional tragic energy. In
1594 was published the anonymous tragedy of The Battle
of Alcazar, which Malone and Dyce, with some hesitancy,
agree in ascribing to Peele. The Old Wives Tale, a plea¬
sant conceited Comedie, had been frequently performed
before 1595, when it was first published; and possesses the
interest of having partly furnished Milton with the plan and
character of his Comus. It is highly imaginative, but dis¬
figured by buffoonery and extravagance. . Peele’s greatest
performance, The Love of David and Fair Bethsabe, with
the Tragedy of Absolon, was first printed in 1599, and is
characterized by Thomas Campbell {Spec, of Brit. Poets,
vol. i.) as “ the earliest fount of pathos and harmony that
can be traced in our dramatic poetry.” Charles Lamb,
while not quite so enthusiastic about “ this canticle of
David,” has nevertheless rendered the “kingly bower,
seated in hearing of a hundred streams,” familiar to all read¬
ers. (See Specimens of Eng. Dram. Poets.) The His-
torie of the Two Valiant Knights Sir Clyomon and Sir
Clamydes, printed anonymously in 1599, is attributed to
Peele by Mr Dyce, partly on the faith of a manuscript
marking on the title-page of an old copy, and partly on
internal evidence. Such are the remains of what gained
Peele his fame as a dramatist among his contemporaries.
“ His comedies and tragedies,” says Wood, “ were often
acted with great applause, and did endure reading with due
commendation many years after their author’s death.”
{Athenee Oxonienses, vol. i., p. 688.) Peele’s close relation
to Marlowe and Greene naturally provokes comparison
with them. While not to be named beside Marlowe in
respect to the depth and power of his tragic genius, and
while decidedly below Greene in comic power, he never¬
theless deserves a higher place than either as a felicitous
versifier. Thomas Campbell alleges,—“ There is no such
PEE
• Peers sweetness of versification and imagery to be found in our
|| blank verse anterior to Shakspeare.” (See The Works of
''uou- George Peele, with some Account of his Life and Writings,
by Rev. Alex. Dyce, 2 vols., 1828. Improvements and
additions appeared with the reprint of 1829; and in 1839 a
third volume was added by the same editor.)
PEERS. See Nobility, and Parliament.
PEGASUS. See Bellerophon.
PEGAU, a town of Saxony, in the circle of Leipsic, on
the left bank of the Elster, 14 miles S.S.W. of Leipsic. It
is surrounded by walls ; and its chief public building is the
handsome church of St Lawrence, containing several monu¬
ments. Pop. 3946.
PEGO, a town of Spain, in the province of Alicante,
44 miles N.E. of the towm of that name. It is generally
clean and well built, and has a court-house, church, schools,
hospitals, &c. Woollen stuffs are manufactured here; and
there are mills for rice, flour, and oil. Pop. 5565.
PEGU, a British province of Eastern India, lying be¬
tween N. Lat. 15. 49. and 19. 30., E. Long. 94. 11. and
96. 55., is bounded on the N. by the Burmese empire, E.
by the Tenasserim provinces (from which it is separated by
the River Sitang), S. by the Gulf of Martaban, and W. by
the Bay of Bengal and the province of Arracan ; the latter
divided from it by the Youmadoung Mountains; length,
from N. to S., about 240 miles ; breadth, 170. The country
is in general level, though it is traversed by several chains
of hills. It is watered by the Irawaddy, which flows south¬
wards from Burmah, and falls into the Gulf of Martaban,
forming a large delta. The soil is fertile ; but agriculture
has been much neglected since the conquest of Pegu by
the Burmese. Rice is the principal crop raised ; and teak
timber is also obtained. Tigers, elephants, buffaloes, and
deer are the animals that mostly throng the forests and
jungles of Pegu. Iron, tin, and lead, as well as rubies,
sapphires, and other jewels, are obtained in this country.
The government of Pegu is similar to that of the adjacent
provinces of Tenasserim and Arracan. The province is
divided into six districts, and contains 570,180 inhabitants.
The early history of Pegu consists of little more than a
narrative of barbarous and cruel contests between that
country and the kingdom of Ava, in which the latter was
finally successful, and reduced Pegu to a province of that
kingdom, or, as it is generally called, the Burman Empire.
The most important events in these wars, as well as those
which led to the more recent contests of Burmah with Great
Britain, and the addition of Pegu to the British empire,
are narrated in the article Burmah.
The principal towns in the province are Pegu, Prome,
and Rangoon, all of which are fortified. Martaban stands
on the E. bank of the Salw'een, 10 miles N.W. of Moul-
mein. It is built on the slope of a hill, and has several
large temples. Though surrounded with a wooden stock¬
ade, and protected by a stone battery near the river, the
place is not of great strength. It was taken by the British
in the Burmese war in 1852, being the first town that fell
in that war. Pop. about 6000.
Pegu, the chief town of the above district, stands on
the left bank of a river of the same name that flows into
the Irawaddy, 58 miles N.E. of Rangoon. It is built in
the shape of a quadrangle, and the streets are broad and re¬
gular, crossing each other at right angles. The streets are
paved with bricks, and the houses, which are built of wood,
are elevated on posts above the ground. Of the buildings
in the town, the most important is the temple of Shoemadoe,
a brick structure, octagonal at the base, and rising in the
form of a pyramid or spire. Pegu was destroyed in 1757
by the Burmese, on their final triumph over the country,
but it was subsequently rebuilt. In 1824 it was captured
by the British, but restored on the conclusion of the first
war with Burmah. In 1852 it was again taken, and has
PER
367
since that time been retained. It is said to have contained
at one time 150,000 inhabitants.
1 EILAU, a town of Prussian Silesia, government of
Breslau, and 33 miles S.S.W. of that town. The inha¬
bitants, amounting to 5235, are mostly Moravians, and are
chiefly employed in the manufacture of linen and woollen
goods.
PEINE FOR IE Ef DURE (Lat. poena fortis et
dura) signifies a species of torture inflicted by English law
on those who, being arraigned of felony, refuse to put them¬
selves on the ordinary trial, but stubbornly stand mute.
FEINT, with Hursool, a small native state of India,
in the presidency of Bombay, is bounded on the N. by the
states of Dhurrumpore and Daung, E. by the British dis¬
trict of Ahmednuggur, S. by that of Tannah, and W. by
those of Tannah and Surat; length, 46 miles ; breadth, 28 ;
area, 750 square miles. As the last rajah died leaving only
a daughter, the state is at present managed by the British
in trust for her and her children. Pop. 55,000.
PEIPUS. See Liyonia.
PEIRESC, Nicolas-Claude-Fabri, Seigneur de, born
in 1580 at Beaugensier in Provence, was descended from
an ancient and noble family which had been originally es¬
tablished at Pisa in Italy. From Avignon, where he had
spent five years at the Jesuits’ college, he was in 1595 re¬
moved to Aix, and entered upon the study of philosophy.
It was here, while in the eager pursuit of literature, that his
attention was first directed to antiquarian studies by acci¬
dentally meeting with a medal of the Emperor Arcadius.
On removing to the Jesuits’ college at Tournon in 1596,
for the study of cosmography, he enjoyed the valuable as¬
sistance of Petrus Rogerus, a skilful numismatist. Being
recalled by his uncle in 1597, he returned to Aix, and
there entered upon the study of the law, relieving the
tedium by frequent visits to Bagarr, a most skilful anti¬
quary, afterwards master of the jewels to Henri IV. He
visited Italy in 1599, proceeded to Montpellier in 1602,
and thence to Aix in 1603, to receive the senatorial dignity
just vacated by his uncle.
In the year 1605 he visited Paris, whence he, in 1606,
proceeded to England in company with the king’s ambas¬
sador. He was very graciously received by King James
I.; and having seen Oxford, and visited Camden, Sir Ro¬
bert Cotton, Sir Henry Saville, and other learned men, he
passed over to Holland. During his residence in that
country he made the acquaintance of Joseph Scaliger at
Leyden, and Hugo Grotius at the Hague. On his return
to Aix, he was chosen a councillor of the Parliament of that
city, where he remained till his death, which occuired in
1637. The death of the “ Procureur General de la Lit-
terature,” as Bayle calls him, was lamented wherever
letters were esteemed, and eloge upon eloge celebrated
his merits in half the languages of Europe. A collec¬
tion of these panegyrics has since been made, under the
title of Panglossia. While no work at all proportioned to
the learning and ability of the author remains to us he
nevertheless left behind him a vast mass of incomplete
manuscripts on all manner of subjects. A catalogue of
these MSS. 700 in all, is preserved in the British Museum
among the papers of Sir Hans Sloane. A considerable num¬
ber of the inedited letters of Peiresc appeared in the Ma-
qasin Encijclopedique, and were afterwards published sepa¬
rately, Paris, 1815. We have an elegant Vita Nic. Clau-
dii Fabricii de Peiresc, by his warm friend Gassendi, 4to,
Paris 1641 ; translated into English by W. Rand, 1657;
and into French by Requier in 1770. The Eloge of
Peiresc by Lemontey was crowned by the Academy of
Marseilles in 1785.
PEKALONGAN, a province of Java, bounded On the
N. by the Java Sea, E. by the province of Samarang, S.
by that of Banjoemas, and W. by that of Tegal; length,
308 P E K
Peking, fro in E. to W., 30 miles ; breadth, 18 miles. Though level
near the coast, the interior of the province is hilly. The
soil is well watered, and produces, among other things,
coffee and rice. Manufactures of indigo and sugar are car¬
ried on. The province contains three seaports,—Pekalon-
gan, Batang, and Pabean,—between which and Batavia a
considerable trade is carried on. Pop. 224,000.
The town of Pekalongan, which stands on the coast at
the mouth of a river of the same name, contains many well-
built stone houses, and has an open roadstead. The Dutch
have a government-house and a fort here.
PEKING, or Pekin, the capital of the Chinese empire,
and of the province of Chihli, stands in a sandy plain about
12 miles S. W. of tbe River Pei-ho, and about 100 W.N.W.
of its mouth ; N. Lat. 39. 54., E. Long. 116. 27. It is,
in the opinion of the Chinese, one of their most ancient
cities, and is known under various names. Previous to
the conquest of the country by the Mongols it was called
Shuntien-fu, or “ The City obedient to Heaven but after
that event, when it was made the capital, the name of
Khan-palik, or “ The City of the Khan,” was given to it. The
namejPefo'wysignifies “Northern Capital;” but it is generally
designated on Chinese maps as King-oz, or “ Capital of the
Court.” A tributary of the Pei-ho, called Tung-hwui-ho,
flows through the city from the N.W., and supplies it with
water. The circumference of the city and suburbs is esti¬
mated at 25 miles, and the area at 27 square miles ; though
other accounts limit the area to 14 square miles. The latter
estimate probably includes only the city itself, and not the
suburbs. Peking consists of two parts: the northern or
Tartar city, called Nui-ching; and the southern or outer
city, called Wai-ching, in which the Chinese live. Both
these divisions are surrounded by walls 30 feet high, and
about 20 feet broad at the base ; but as the inner face is
sloping, they are only 12 feet wide at the top. They con¬
sist for the most part of mounds of earth or rubbish faced
with bricks. According to most of the plans, Peking is
also surrounded with ditches ; but this, though perhaps
partially true, is certainly not the case with the N.E. por¬
tion. At intervals of about 60 yards along the outside of
the walls stand square towers, projecting about 30 feet from
the wall; and similar erections stand at each side of all the
gates, connected by a semicircular rampart in front. The
gateways consist of strong arches surmounted by wooden
buildings several storeys high. The appearance of Peking
from the outside is dull and uniform, as there are no spires,
minarets, or pillars rising above the mass of the houses,
which are roofed with yellow, green, or red tiles; and the
only prominent objects are clumps of trees and the flag-staffs
that rise in front of the houses of the officials. The roofs
of the houses, however, present an appearance by no means
unpleasing, as their sides and ridges are gently curved, and
are adorned with various fantastic figures; and the whole
glitters like gold in the rays of a bright oriental sun. The
northern city consists of three separate inclosures, one within
the other. The innermost, in which the imperial palace is
situated, is called Kin-Ching, or the “Prohibited City.”
Within are the palaces and pleasure-grounds of the em¬
peror and empress. The ground in this inclosure is not
level, but is raised in artificial hills, on which the principal
palaces are built. There are also large and deep artificial
lakes, of irregular form, and interspersed with small islands.
The buildings and grounds within the Prohibited City are
said to be, in architecture and arrangement, far superior to
anything else of the kind in China. To Sir George Staun¬
ton, who, when passing through Peking on an embassy to
the imperial park of Yuen-ming-yuen, caught a glimpse of
this portion of the city through the northern gates, the whole
had the appearance of enchantment. Besides the imperial
palaces and pleasure-grounds, the Prohibited City contains
two halls and a fine marble gateway 110 feet high, ascended
P E K
by five flights of stairs, where the emperor stands on certain Peking,
occasions to receive the homage of his courtiers. On the v .r
east side stand the offices of the cabinet, the treasury, and
the imperial library, consisting of 12,000 works ; while to¬
wards the west is situated a variety of public and private
buildings.. The government of the palace is in the hands
of a special council, which is divided into seven sections,
having different duties. Attached to the court of Peking
are three great scientific establishments : the National Col¬
lege, for the sons of the great dignitaries ; the Imperial Col¬
lege of Astronomy, by which the annual almanacs are pre¬
pared ; and the College of Medicine. There is published
daily at Peking an official gazette of 60 or 70 pages. It is
entirely under the control of the emperor, to whom every¬
thing that is printed in it must be presented. The popu¬
lation of the Prohibited City is not very great, and it con¬
sists principally of Manchoos. Outside of this inclosure is
another called Hivang-Ching, or the “ Imperial City,” not
so sacred as the former, but entered only by authorized
persons. It is about 2 square miles in extent, and is sur¬
rounded by a wall covered with yellow tiles, and known as
the Imperial or Yellow Wall. From the southern gate a
broad street leads up to the Prohibited City, on the right
of which stands the Tai-Miau, or “ Temple of the Im¬
perial Ancestors,” an extensive collection of buildings sur¬
rounded by a wall; and on the left an altar of a peculiar
construction dedicated to the gods of land and grain, on
which the emperor alone is allowed to sacrifice. The Im¬
perial City also contains numerous temples to various sub¬
ordinate Chinese deities ; and it has been calculated that
there are in this and the interior inclosure upwards of 200
palaces, all of great size. The Tartar city, lying outside
of the divisions already described, has several broad and
straight streets crossing each other at right angles. Near
the southern gate of the imperial wall are the principal tri¬
bunals and government offices in the city; and not far off
is the college of the Russian mission, which consists often
members sent periodically from St Petersburg. On the wall
at the S.E. corner of this part of the city stands the observa¬
tory, provided with instruments by the Emperor Kanghi,
under the direction of Roman Catholic missionaries, and
now under the care of Chinese astronomers. Not far from
this building is the hall for literary examinations, where the
candidates for degrees assemble. In the north part of the
town is a lofty tower, forming one of the most conspicuous
objects in Peking, and containing a huge cylindrical bell
and a large drum, both of which are used to mark the
watches of the night. The town contains many places of
worship belonging to different religions and sects, includ¬
ing a Greek and a Latin church, and a Mohammedan
mosque, besides numerous temples of the various forms of
Budhism. Among the last is one where the deceased
kings and emperors are worshipped ; and another called the
White Pagoda, a tastefully-ornamented building, having a
fine obelisk in front of it. The outer or Chinese city, which
is about the same size as the other, though more populous,
is not in general so well built, and contains few large build¬
ings. Two extensive portions of the area are occupied by
the large inclosures surrounding the altars to Heaven and to
Agriculture, which stand, the one to the right and the other
on the left of the central street leading from the south gate
to the Tartar city. The former, on the east side, consists
of three circular terraces, each 10 feet high, and in succes¬
sion 120, 90, and 60 feet in diameter, they are all paved
with marble, and surrounded with balustrades. In connec¬
tion with this altar is the Palace of Abstinence, where the
emperor, who is the priest of the altar, fasts for three days
before offering the annual sacrifice at the winter solstice.
On the opposite side of the street from this altar is another
inclosure containing four altars, dedicated respectively to
the spirits of heaven, to those of the earth, to the planet
F E K
Peking. Jupiter, and to ihe monarch Shinnung, who is regarded as
the inventor of agriculture. To the west of these altars is
an artificial pool, called the Black Dragon Pool, dedicated
to the spirits of the waters, which also occupies a large
space. Beyond the walls of the city stands, on the east
side, an altar to the sun, and on the west, one to the moon ;
while about eight miles to the N.W., in an undulating
country, is the park of Yuen-ming-yuen, containing numerous
imperial residences and a hall of audience. In one of the
most beautiful situations near Peking is a French burying-
ground; but this has been much defaced by the Chinese.
The principal streets of Peking, which are generally
straight, leading from one gate across the city to another,
are about 100 feet broad, and the lowness of the houses
with which they are lined serves to increase their apparent
width. They are unpaved, probably on account of the
difficulty of obtaining stone in the vast plain in which
the city stands. During the summer they are kept well
sprinkled with wrater, but in wet weather they are exceed¬
ingly muddy. The smaller thoroughfares, like those of
most Chinese cities, are mere narrow lanes. The principal
streets are lined with shops, which are entirely open in
front during the day, and have on each side sign-boards
fastened in stone bases, and reaching as high as the eaves,
painted with large ornamental characters, and sometimes
decorated with flags of various colours. The fronts of
the houses are also frequently painted in brilliant colours,
which gives the streets a very gay and lively appearance.
At the intersections of the principal streets there are tablets
and portals erected in honour of distinguished persons.
The main thoroughfares are feebly lighted during the night
by lanterns hung in front of the houses ; and those who go
about in the dark carry lanterns or torches. People be¬
longing to all the various tribes of Central Asia, in their
various costumes, throng the streets of Peking; and the
number of Manchoo women who are to be seen in the
streets, on foot and on horseback, gives to the city an appear¬
ance different from that of those in the south of China.
Horses and carriages are used as means of conveyance, and
are to be had for hire ; but sedans, which are elsewhere in
China the usual conveyances, are not permitted so near the
emperor, except for privileged persons. The streets, though
broad, are much blocked up by the moveable workshops
of various mechanics, the tents and booths filled with all
kinds of merchandise, and the various wares laid out in
front of the shops; so that there is only a narrow road left
in the middle, along which there are continually passing
official, funeral, and bridal processions; strings of drome¬
daries, with coals from Tartary; carts and wheel-barrows
laden with vegetables. The sides of the streets are also
filled with crowds of people buying and selling, whose
varied appearance and confused sounds give to the place a
busy and animated appearance. Few manufactures and
no trade is carried on at Peking: the city is supplied with
provisions chiefly from the southern provinces, and from
the flocks raised in the northern part of Chihli; and the ad¬
jacent country produces but a small quantity of the provi¬
sions required. The government of Peking is not subor¬
dinate to the provincial magistrate, but only to the emperor
himself. There is a regular police, who patrol the streets
by night beating together two hollow bamboos to mark
the time. The climate is colder in winter than that of
most other places in the same latitude ; and the houses
are warmed by flues under the rooms ; but fuel is very
scarce and dear. A large proportion of the inhabitants of
Peking are poor, and they frequently rise in mobs, and
pillage the granaries to supply themselves with food. I o
keep the capital quiet is an object of much care to the
government, as the state of the whole empire depends very
much on that of Peking. The population of Peking is
variously estimated from 1,300,000 to 3,000,000. It pro-
vol. xvn.
P E L
bably amounts to 2,000,000, or nearly that of London
(Barrow’s Travels ; Gutzlaff’s China Opened; The
Middle Kingdom, Williams; Davis’ China, new edition
1857.)
PELAGIUS, the founder of the sect of the Pelagians,
is supposed to have been a native of Britain, and first ap¬
pears on the stage of history as a monk, residing at Rome,
about the beginning of the fifth century. He was at that
time a man of great moral earnestness. Flis adherence to
the monkish rules was rigid, his efforts to reform both clergy
and laity assiduous, and his sanctity well spoken of in all
the churches. Yet it was this same deep regard for mo¬
rality which was the occasion of Pelagius’s lapse into error.
Looking down from the height of his own self-righteous¬
ness, he was scandalized to see the majority of professing
Christians grovelling carelessly and contentedly in every
kind of sensuality. With all the intensity of his reforming
zeal, he set himself to discover the cause and remedy of
this moral disease. The cause, it occurred to him, was the
trust which was placed throughout the church in the efficacy
of the sacraments, and the sufficiency of faith. The
remedy, he thought, would be a creed which should hold
man’s salvation to be dependent upon his own exertions.
To develop such a creed into a regular and consistent form
became his next endeavour. As the foundation of his sys¬
tem, he assumed that a just God could not visit the ini¬
quities of one man upon the heads of others. On this was
established the dogma, that the effects of Adam’s first sin
were confined to himself, and did not descend to his pos¬
terity. Accordingly death, and the other evils of life, were
not the signs of a blighted spirit, but the necessary incidents
of a body made of dust. Men therefore came into the
world pure and innocent. Baptism, though needful to
admit them into the kingdom of heaven, was not needful
to cleanse them from moral pollution, or to insure their
eternal blessedness. Nor was inward grace necessary to
predispose them to love and obey the commandments of
God. All the grace that they required was the privilege
of exercising their natural faculties, of using the advantages
of the gospel and the church, and of receiving forgiveness
for any sins they might commit. With these aids alone
they could confidently address themselves to the observance
of the law. Their own free-will was able to choose tlm
good, and their own strength was able to accomplish it. It
they should step aside from the right path through ignorance
or forgetfulness, they would not be culpable. Even if they
should really become corrupt, they could convert themselves
by their own exertions. Thus was a man’s own,righteous¬
ness, and not his faith, declared to be the means of his
salvation. .
This flagrant heresy being propagated in Palestine by
Pelagius himself, and in Africa by his friend and disciple
Coelestius, soon provoked opposition. Coelestius was ex¬
cluded from the fellowship of the church by a synod held
at Carthage in 412. Pelagius was arraigned before two ec¬
clesiastical councils, held respectively at Jerusalem and Dios-
nolis in 415. Although at both of these tribunals he suc¬
ceeded in baffling his accusers, and deceiving hisjudges with
sophistry and equivocation, yet he could not altogether u
thL suspicions of the orthodox. The North African bishops,
led on by Augustine, commenced a deadly attack with
books, letters, and edicts. In 417 they induced I ope In¬
nocent I. to anathematize the rising heresy ; in 418 they
issued a formal edict against it from an assembly held at
Carthage; and not long afterwards they prevailed upon
the emperor to promulgate several decrees threatening the
new sect with confiscation and banishment. The result
was that Pope Zosimus was forced to condemn the ob¬
noxious doctrine ; several ecclesiastical councils throughout
Europe approved the sentence ; Pelagius retired into exile,
and went off the arena of history ; and Pelagianism was nipt
3 A
369
Pelagius.
370
PEL
Pelagius
II
Pelasgi.
in the bud, and was deprived of all existence as a formal
confession of faith.
Of the numerous works of Pelagius, the following alone
have been authenticated:—Expositionum in Epistolas
PauliLibri XIV. ; Epistola ad Demetriadem, and Libellus
Fidei ad Innocentium Papam. They are all included in
the best editions of Jerome. (For an account of Pelagius
and Pelagianism, see Augustine’s De Gestis Pelagii; G. J.
Vossius’ Historia Controversiarum Pelagianarum; the
Church Histories of Neander, Milner, Gieseler, and Wad-
dington ; Hagenbach’s History of Doctrines; Patouillet’s
Vie de Pelage, 1751; N. N. Leutzen’s Dissertatio de Pela-
gianorum Doctrince Principiis, Colon. Agr., 1833; and
Wiggers’ Pragmatische Darstellung des Augustinismus
und Pelagianismus, 2 vols., Hamb. 1833. This last work
has been translated into English by Professor Emerson,
8vo, New York, 1840.)
PELAGIUS I., Pope, succeeded Virgilius in the Ro¬
man see in 555, and died in 560.
Pelagius II., Pope, succeeded Benedict I. in 578, and
died in 590.
PELASGI (neAcuryoi), an ancient race, believed to have
been widely spread over Greece and Italy in pre-historic
times, but of whom scarcely anything definite is known.
The name Pelasgi owes its derivation, according to tradi¬
tion, to Pelasgus, father of Lycaon, King of Arcadia, and
reputed ancestor of the race. (Strabo, vii., p. 321.) Some
maintain, however, that the genuine form of the word was
IleXapyot, which is variously derived (1.) from "Apyos, a
plain, in old Greek, and TreAco; (2.) from *Aypds, a field,
and TreXo); and, finally, from TreXapyot, storks, in allusion (3.)
either to their wandering life, or (4.) to their rudeness of
speech. Krase {Hellas) favours the first derivation,
O. Muller {Die Etrusker) the second, Strabo and Myrsilus
the third, and a writer in the Philological Museum, vol. i.
(“On the names of the Antehellenic Inhabitants of Greece”),
the fourth. Schwegler, the most recent writer who has
ably taken up the entire question, is in considerable doubt
whether the name Pelasgi is to be regarded as an ethno¬
graphic distinction, or as an epithet equivalent to autoch¬
thones, or aborigines {Rom. Gesch.) Nor is the origin of
the Pelasgians better ascertained than their name. They
are generally supposed to have immigrated from somewhere
beyond sea, most probably from Asia Minor, by the Pro¬
pontis and the Hellespont. The whole of Greece during
the ante-Hellenic period was occupied by a number of bar¬
barous tribes, of whom the most important were the Pe¬
lasgi, both as occupying a larger portion of the country than
any other tribe, and from their wide diffusion into other
territories. The whole of Hellas during this pre-historic
age is said to have been more or less overrun by the Pe¬
lasgi. (Strabo, v., p. 220 ; Herodotus, ii. 56 ; viii. 44 ; Thu¬
cydides, i. 3.) The earliest notice of them, however (Homer,
Iliad, ii. 681), represents them as having their chief abode
in “ Pelasgian Argos ” in Thessaly. “ That part of Thes¬
saly,” says Strabo, “ is called Pelasgian Argos which ex¬
tends from the coast between the outlet of the Peneus and
Thermopylae as far as the range of Pindus, because the
Pelasgians were masters of that region.” Epirus also, and
especially Dodona, is made a chief abode of the Pelasgi by
Homer, Hesiod, and TEschylus; the former informing us
that Zeus was worshipped as the “Pelasgian king.” Mov¬
ing southward, we next find traces of the Pelasgi in Bceotia,
and especially in Attica, where, according to Herodotus
(vi. 137), Thucydides (ii. 17), and Strabo (ix., p. 401), they
took up their abode at Athens, under Mount Hymettus,
from which they were, however, afterwards expelled.
Apart from the legend already referred to of the Arcadian
origin of the Pelasgi, we find frequent mention, especially
in Herodotus, TEschylus, and Strabo, of their presence in
the Peloponnesus, and particularly of their intimate rela-
P E L
tion to Argolis. Two conflicting centres of emanation are
thus assigned to this race,—that of Thessaly and Epirus, and
that of Arcadia; but there are no satisfactory means of de¬
termining whether the one account or the other be correct.
Another curious contradiction with respect to this race is
noticed by Wachsmuth {Hell. Alt., vol. i., part i.) He¬
rodotus represents them as fixed and stationary (i. 56) ;
while Strabo describes them as a moveable and migratory
people (xiii. 3, § 3). Passing from the mainland of Greece
we find marks of the presence of the Pelasgi in numerous
islands of the flEgaean Sea. Homer alludes to them in
Crete {Odys. xix. 175); Herodotus in Samothrace (ii. 51);
Herodotus (v. 26), Strabo (v., p. 220), Thucydides (iv.
109), and Pausanias (vii. 2), in Lemnos and Imbros;
Dionysius (i. 18) traces them to Lesbos; Herodotus (vii.
95) says that seventeen of the Ionian Islands were inha¬
bited by Pelasgi; and Menecrates (Strabo, xiii., p. 621) as¬
signed to them not only the islands of Ionia, but also the
coast of Asia Minor. The latter portion of his statement
is likewise confirmed by Homer, Herodotus, Strabo, and
Dionysius. Herodotus (i. 57) found, in his own time, two
Pelasgian cities, Scylace and Placia, on the Hellespont,
and a place called Creston, probably in Macedonia, speaking
similar dialects, differing from their neighbours around them,
but not ordinary Greek {/Sap/Sapov yXwaaav uVres). 4 he
historian quotes this fact in order to prove that the ancient
language of the Pelasgi was a barbarous language, or distinct
from that of the Hellenes. This passage in Herodotus has
been the source of not a little controversy. Bishop Thirl-
wall is of opinion that the statement of Herodotus respecting
the “ barbarous ” language of these Pelasgic communities
simply means that they spoke a very bad Greek. “ Nothing
more,” he says, “ can be safely inferred from it, than that
the Pelasgian language which Herodotus heard on the
Hellespont and elsewhere sounded to him a strange jargon,
as did the dialect of Ephesus to a Milesian, and as the
Bolognese does to a Florentine. {Hist, of Greece, vol i.,
c. ii., p. 60.) Mr Grote, on the other hand, asserts that the
meaning of Herodotus is unmistakeable as to the substantial
difference of the Pelasgic language and the ordinary Greek.
“ The affirmation,” he says, “ of Herodotus is distinct and
twice repeated, that the Pelasgians of these towns, and of
his own time, spoke a barbaric language; and that word
appears to me to admit but of one interpretation. To sup¬
pose that a man who, like Herodotus, had heard almost
every variety of Greek in the course of his long travels, as
well as Egyptian, Phoenician, Assyrian, Lydian, and other
languages, did not know how to distinguish bad Hellenic
from non-Hellenic, is in my judgment inadmissible.” “ I
think it therefore certain,” he again remarks, “ that Hero¬
dotus pronounces the Pelasgians of his day to speak a sub¬
stantive language different from Greek; but whether dif¬
fering from it in a greater or less degree {e.g., in the de¬
gree of Latin or of Phoenician), we have no means of de¬
ciding.” {Hist, of Greece, vol. ii., pp. 351-353.) Mr Ellis,
in an ingenious pamphlet {Contributions to the Ethno¬
graphy of Italy and Greece, by Robert Ellis, B.D., Lon¬
don, 1858), adopts a similar interpretation of the Greek
historian. He says at p. 5, “ In describing, then, the Pelas¬
gian language as barbarous, Herodotus gives us to under¬
stand to what language—namely, the Greek—he considered
the Pelasgian to be substantially foreign.” Grote simplifies
the vexed Pelasgian question, by not presuming “to de¬
termine anything in regard to the legendary Pelasgians and
Leleges, the supposed ante-Helenic inhabitants of Greece.”
“ Whoever has examined,” he says again, “ the many con¬
flicting systems respecting the Pelasgi, from the literal belief
of Clavier, Larcher, and Raoul Rochette (which appears to
me at least the most consistent way of proceeding), to the
interpretative and half-incredulous processes applied by
abler men, such as Niebuhr, or O. Muller, or Dr Thirlwall,
\
L
PEL
Peiagtri. will not be displeased with my resolution to decline so in-
JLj soluble a problem.” (Vol. ii., pp. 347, 351.) In the opinion
of the Rev. George Rawlinson {History of Herodotus, Lon¬
don, 1858, vol. i., p. 665), the statement of Mr Grote re¬
garding the radical difference of the Greek and Pelasgic
languages “ is one of undue and needless scepticism. . .
Anglo-Saxon is a barbarian or foreign tongue to a modern
Englishman, and so is Gothic to a modern German, Pro¬
vencal to a Frenchman, Syriac to a Chaldee or Mosul. The
diversity between the Hellenic and the Pelasgic. was pro¬
bably of this nature, as Niebuhr, Thirwall, and C. O. Muller
suppose. The nations were essentially of the same stock,
the Hellenes having emerged from among the Pelasgi; and
we may confidently pronounce on the Indo-European cha¬
racter of the latter from the fact, that the language of the
former belongs to this family.”
Traditions of the presence of the Pelasgi are not, however,
limited to Greece; they are intimately connected likewise
with the Italian peninsula. The fullest account of the primi¬
tive population of Central Italy is given by Dionysius. Ihis
writer represents (i. 11) GEnotrus, son of Lycaon, lead¬
ing a colony into Italy seventeen generations before the
Trojan war. He further informs us that Pelasgians came
from Thessaly by sea, and landed in Italy at the mouth of
the Po. Thence they moved southwards, taking some
cities from the Umbrians, and were only withheld from
attacking the aborigines by a response given to the Pelasgi
by the Dondonian oracle. Becoming conciliated to the
aborigines, the Pelasgi had a territory assigned them near
Velia, and they subsequently aided their benefactors in ex¬
pelling the Siceli or Siculi into the island Sicily, to which
they gave their name. After a time, the historian conti¬
nues, the Pelasgians returned to Greece in separate bodies,
and from the name Tyrrhenia by which the western coast
of Italy was known to the Greeks this race acquired the
appellation of Tyrrhenian, and were designated Tyrrhe¬
nian Pelasgians. “ These testimonies in Dionysius,”
says Clinton {Fasti Hellenici, vol. i., p. 28), “ establish
the fact that Pelasgi from Greece emigrated to Italy ; but
the circumstances and the time of that earliest migration
are lost in remote antiquity.” On this observation Sir G.
C. Lewis comments by affirming, “ The fact itself seems
as uncertain as the circumstances and the time. Mr Clinton
does not advert to the statement of Dionysius respecting a
migration of Pelasgians back to Italy, which is an essential
part of his narrative.” ( On the Credibility of Early Ro¬
man History, vol. i., p. 282, note.) Lewis further remarks
that “ this portion of the narrative of Dionysius is merely
an ethnological legend. No authentic record of the mi¬
grations or acts of the Pelasgian people appears to have been
accessible to the historians of antiquity.” (Vol. i., p. 282.)
Other testimonies besides that of Dionysius go to confirm
the tradition of the immigration of the Pelasgians into
Latium, and even assert the name of Rome itself to be
Pelasgian. (See Lewis, vol. i., p. 395.) Indeed the whole
of Italy, according to legendary record, was inhabited in an¬
cient times by the Pelasgi. Founding on these genealogi¬
cal and mythical traditions, Niebuhr has come to the con¬
clusion, “ not as an hypothesis, but with full historical con¬
viction,” that the Pelasgians were the primitive population
both of Greece and of Italy. He says, “ There was a time
when the Pelasgians, perhaps the most extended people in
all Europe, were spread from the Po and the Arno to the
Bosphorus.” {Hist, of Rome, vol. i., p. 25.) This race,
he maintains, gradually disappeared because they became
Hellenized. The Greek element in the Latin language he
holds to be Pelasgic. Schwegler, who agrees in the main with
Grote respecting the unauthentic character of the Pelasgic
traditions, condemns the hypothesis of Niebuhr as entirely
untenable. Lewis likewise maintains that the alleged re¬
cords of the Pelasgians rest on no historical basis, and he
PEL
371
rejects the conclusions both of Niebuhr and Otfried Mill- Pelestrina
ler respecting “ this unknown and undiscoverable period.” II
(Vol. i., p. 297.) Niebuhr’s hypothesis is likewise assailed
by Clinton in his Fast. Hell., vol. i., p. 97. The grounds of
Schwegler’s condemnation, which is the most thorough¬
going, is as follows :—“ 1. The absence of any indigenous
name for the Pelasgians in Italy. 2. The evident traces of
Roman writers on the subject having obtained their infor¬
mation from the Greek logographers. 3. The contradictory
accounts given by different writers of the migrations of the
Pelasgians, according as they follow Hellanicus and Phere-
cydes or Myrsilus. 4. The absence of any historical mo¬
nument of the Pelasgi in Italy, whether literary or of an¬
other kind.” If unsound in his hypothesis, Niebuhr was
not far wrong when he wrote the following sentence re¬
garding this tangled question :—“ The name Pelasgi is
odious to the historian who hates the spurious philology
out of which the pretences to knowledge on the subject of
such extinct people arise.” {Hist, of Rome, vol. i.)
In addition to the works already cited, the reader may
consult Kruse’s Hellas, vol. ii., for a copious collection of
passages bearing on the Pelasgi; also the criticisms of
that work by Thirl wall in the Philological Museum, vol. i.,
p. 305, and Clinton in the Fasti Hellenici, vol. i.; also
Mommsen’s Rom. Geschichte.
PELESTRINA, a town of Austrian Italy, in the go¬
vernment of Venice, stands on an island of the same name,
11 miles S. of Venice. The island is about 7 miles in
length by 1 in breadth ; and the town contains several
churches and a town-hall. Pop. 7000.
PELEUS, the King of Phthia, and the father of Achilles,
was the son of iEacus of ACgina. He w:as twice manied.
His first wife, Antigone, the daughter of Eurytion, the sove¬
reign of the Phthians, brought him as her dowry the third
part of her father’s kingdom. His second wife, the Nereid
Thetis, became by him the mother of the great Achilles.
Peleus outlived his son. .
PELEW ISLANDS, a group of small islands lying in
the North Pacific Ocean, between 8. and 9. N. Lat., and
130. and 136. E. Long. They extend from S.S.W. to
N.N.E., and are surrounded on all sides except the south
by coral reefs. The group comprises in all about twenty
islands, the largest of which, Baubelthoup, is neaily 6
miles in circumference. The islands, when seen from the
sea, present a rugged and mountainous aspect, are
well covered with trees of various kinds, and the soil
general rich. The bread-fruit tree, the cocoa-nut, banana
orange, and lemon.abound, as also the sugai-cane. _
is nothing that deserves the name of over on
and the inhabitants derive their supplies of fresh wate,
small rivulets and ponds. They belong to the Malay race^
PFT IGNI The, a people of ancient Italy, inhaDitea tne
vvas determined ^ly^situation^oi^Thewmds^honi^the^snow-
the vSgeof severity. At the same time, the melting wreaths
thp hill-sides sent down gentle streams to water and ferti¬
lize the va’lleL Accordingly, grapes and corn abundant m
miantitv though inferior in quality, were raised on the soil.
The hiltory of the Peligni contains no events of any very
special interest. Sprung as they were from the same Sabine
stock as the Marsi and Marrucmi, they shared in all the
.fnnh chancres which befell these tribes under the
dominant power of the Romans. Like them, they were
defeated by Fabius in 308 B.C.; they revolted at the out¬
break of the Social War in 91 B.C.; and they were ulti¬
mately included in the Fourth Region of Augustus. The
principal towns of the Peligni were Corfimum, Supersequum,
372 PEL
Pelion and Sulmo. The last of these was the birthplace of
II . Ovid.
Pellenn. PELION, a mountain in Thessaly, extending along the
/ ^ ^ coast of Magnesia, and rising to the S. of Mount Ossa,
with which it is joined by a low ridge. It attains to its
greatest height (nearly 5000 feet) above lolcos. Its east¬
ern side rises precipitously from the sea, rendering the
coast exceedingly dangerous, as the destruction of Xerxes’
fleet can testify. It is still covered with venerable forests
of oak, ash, beech, elm, and pine, as of old, when Homer
gave it the epithet of elvocri(fiv\\ov, “quivering with leaves”
(II. ii. 632, &c.) ; and when its ashen spear-shafts were so
famous that Pelias was the usual name by which the cele¬
brated spear of Achilles was designated, and which no arm
but his own could wield. The timber of which the ship
“ Argo” was built is likewise said to have been felled in
the forests of this mountain. In the wars of the giants and
the gods, the former are said to have piled Ossa upon
Pelion in order to scale Olympus. The N.W. summit of
Pelion is called Plessidhi; and the whole mountain frequently
gets the name of the town Zagora, built on its eastern side.
(See Leake’s Northern Greece.)
PELL, John, an erudite mathematician, wras the son of
a clergyman, and was born at Southwick in Sussex in 1610.
His youth was full of high mental promise. At the school of
Steyning he soon became a proficient in Latin, Greek, and
Hebrew; by the age of thirteen he was ready to enter
Trinity College, Cambridge ; during his university course
he made himself an accomplished linguist; and in 1630,
the year in which he took the degree of M.A., he was
holding a learned correspondence with several eminent
mathematicians. This promise soon began to be fulfilled ;
for Pell, from this time till his death, devoted all his atten¬
tion to the promotion of mathematical science. He occu¬
pied the chair of mathematics at Amsterdam from 1643 to
1646, and the same chair at Breda from 1646 to 1652. It
is true that after this he was employed by Cromwell in the
political office of agent to the Protestant cantons of Switzer¬
land. It is true, also, that after the Restoration he took
holy orders, and was presented by Sheldon, Bishop of Lon¬
don, to several rich benefices. Yet all the while the sin¬
gle-minded bookworm was immersed in his favourite study,
publishing several works, and writing those almost innu¬
merable letters and pamphlets which are now preserved
in nearly forty folio volumes in the British Museum. He
even carried his mathematical abstraction to the extent of
altogether neglecting his personal affairs. His friends co¬
zened him out of the profits of his benefices, and then
left him a prey to merciless creditors. He lived in extreme
indigence till his death in 1685. Dr Pell’s principal works
arG)—A Controversy with Longomontanus concerning the
Quadrature of the Circle, 4to, Amsterdam, 1646; An Idea
of the Mathematics, 12mo, London, 1650; Branher's
Translation of Rhonnius' Introduction to Algebra, much
altered and augmented, 4to, London, 1668 ; and A Table
of Ten Thousand Square Numbers, fol., London, 1672.
PELLA, the capital of Macedonia, was situated on a
hill in the midst of an impassable marsh which was con¬
nected with the River Lydias. Its strong and secure
position, and its easy communication with the sea, did not
fail, in course of time, to make it a place of import¬
ance. Philip made it the metropolis of the kingdom and
the seat of the royal palace. It continued to retain this
dignity, and to be a prosperous city, until Macedonia was
subjugated by the Romans, and ceased to be a kingdom.
From that time Pella seems to have gradually declined.
Its name, applied to a fountain which rises on the site of
the ancient town, is almost the only record which remains
of the birthplace of Alexander the Great.
PELLERIN, Joseph, an eminent numismatist, was born
in 1684 at Marli-le-Roi, near Versailles, and received his
PEL
education at Paris. His proficiency as a linguist procured Pellico.
for him employment in connection with the navy. At
first he was engaged in the navy office in making extracts
and translations from English, Spanish, and Italian. Then
his merits came to be better appreciated; and the succes¬
sive offices in the navy of one of the commissioners, com¬
missioner-general, and first clerk were conferred upon him.
But it was not until he had retired from public service in
1745 that the great business of Pellerin’s life commenced.
He then set himself to read, interpret, and classify a great
variety of coins which he had collected. In doing this, it
was his good fortune to light upon a plan which may be
said to have given a definite form to the science of nu¬
mismatics. Instead of following the arbitrary modes of
preceding numismatists, he arranged his coins according
to the geographical position of their countries. His system
was explained and illustrated in his Recueils de Medailles
de Rois, Peuples, et Villes, in 10 vols. 4to, Paris, 1762-78.
A supplemental volume, entitled Additions, &c., was pub¬
lished shortly before his death in 1782.
PELLICO, Silvio, an eminent Italian, celebrated for his
genius and his misfortunes, was born at Saluzzo in Pied¬
mont in 1789. His education, though irregular, was well
adapted to develop his fine talents. In his father’s house,
which was furnished with all the luxuries of an easy for¬
tune, his love for poetry was kindled by the sight of pri¬
vate theatricals. In Turin, to which the family removed
about 1795, his studies w'ere prosecuted under a clergyman.
At Lyons, where he resided with a wealthy cousin for four
years, he tasted all the refining pleasures which affection
could suggest or money could supply. At Milan, where he
settled in 1810 as a teacher of French, he devoted himself to
the study of the literature of his own and of other countries.
Nor was the society in which he mingled in this last city
less propitious to his mental culture. Monti and Foscolo
loved and cherished him. Count Porro also received him
into his house as tutor to his sons, and introduced him
to the celebrated men, both native and foreign, who
gathered round his hospitable table. Inspired and stimu¬
lated by all these influences, Pellico set himself to en¬
lighten and elevate his enslaved countrymen, as well as to
gratify his own aspirations. In a short time his tragedy of
Francesca da Rimini delighted all Italy with its grace and
tenderness. In 1819 he was the chief agent in establish¬
ing a national periodical called The Conciliator. About
the same time, also, he consecrated his life to the cause of
Italian freedom by enrolling himself in the revolutionary
society of the Carbonari. It was this activity that brought
Pellico under the relentless suspicions of Austrian despot¬
ism, and entailed upon him a long and cruel persecution.
Arrested in October 1820 for political offences, he was
lodged in the cells of Santa Margherita at Milan. Removed
to Venice soon afterwards, he lay awaiting his trial in the
dreary state prison called “ The Leads.” His trial came on
in February 1822, and resulted in a sentence of death which
was commuted for a severe incarceration of fifteen years
in the fortress of Spielberg, near the Moravian cityof Briinn.
In that distant dungeon the weary term of durance passed
heavily along, inflicting pains and agonies unspeakable. At
length, when it had dragged the poor prisoner almost to
death’s door, it was prematurely brought to a close, by the
command of the emperor, on the 1st August 1830. Silvio
Pellico spent his remaining years in literary pursuits at
Turin. He produced the tragedy of Ester dEngaddi
not long after his release; Le Mie Prigioni, Tre Nuove
Tragedie, and the tragedy of Tommaso Moro in 1832;
and his Opere Inedite in 1837. He also acted as librarian
to the Marchesa Barolo. His death took place on the
1st January 1854 at Moncaglieri, the villa of his patroness
near Turin. Of Pellico’s account of his own imprisonment,
under the title of Le Mie Prigioni, there have been
PEL
P E M
373
Pellisson five German translations, one English, three Spanish, and
|| fourteen French. The narrative has charmed every reader
Pelops. by its unaffected and graphic story, its tender pathos, and
its pervading tone of Christian faith and charity. 1 he Life
of Pellico has been written by Dumast Lomenie, 1842;
by Chiala, 1852 ; by Nollet-Fabert, 1854 ; and by Giorgio
Briano, 1854.
PELLISSON-FONTANIER, Paul, was bom at Be¬
ziers in 1624, and after studying with success the Latin,
Greek, French, Spanish, and Italian languages, he applied
himself to law at Castres, and subsequently to general litera¬
ture at Paris. In 1652 he purchased the post of secretary to
the king; and five years afterwards became first deputy to M.
Fouquet. He suffered by the disgrace of that ministei ;
and in 1661 was confined in the Bastille, whence he was
not discharged till four years afterwards. During his con¬
finement he applied himself to the study of religious, con¬
troversy ; and in 1670 he abjured the Protestant icligion.
Louis XIV. bestowed upon him an annual pension of two
thousand crowns, besides bestowing on him numerous marks
of royal favour. Having taken orders, he, in 1676, received
the abbey of Gimont, and some years afterwards the priory
of St Orens in Audi. He died in 1693.
The best remembered work of this once popular writer is a
diffuse Ilistoire de VAcademie Frangaise, Paris, 1653. The best edi¬
tion is Olivet’s, Paris, 1730. He also wrote a courtly Histoire de
Louis XFV., Paris, 3 vols., 1749; a panegyric entitled Abrege de la
Vie d'Anne d' A utriche, 1666 ; a Histoire de la Conquete de la Franche
Comte, in 1668, given in the seventh vol. of the Memoires of Father
Desmolets; Lettres Historiques et (Euvres Diverges, Paris, 3 vols.,
1749 ; Recueil des Pieces Galantes, 5 vols., 1695 ; Reflexions sur leg
Differends de la Religion, 4 vols., 1687, in which the author attempts
a reply to Jurieu and Leibnitz on religious toleration ; also an un¬
finished Traite de VEucharistic. Other issues of his works are
(Euvres Diverses de Pellisson, 3 vols., Paris, 1739 ; and (Euvres Choisies
de Pellisson, 2 vols., 1805. (See Bayle’s Diet. ; also De Feller’s
Diet. Historique.)
PELOPIDAS. See Thebes.
PELOPONNESUS (the modern Morea), a celebrated
peninsula, forming one of the great general divisions of an¬
cient Greece, was situated to the S. of Greece Proper.
Owing to its peculiar form and position, it came to be re¬
garded under several curious aspects. The old Greeks,
considering it an island, and using the name of the mythi¬
cal king of Pisa, called it the Isle of Pelops. Strabo and
other classical writers likened it to the leaf of a vine or
plane tree. On account of its natural facilities for defence,
it was likewise named the Acropolis of Greece. Ihe Pe¬
loponnesus was divided into six provinces: Arcadia in the
middle, Achaia on the N., Elis on the W., Argolis on the
E., and Messenia and Laconia on the S. I he history and
physical geography of the peninsula are given under the
heads of these several states. (See also Greece, and Leake’s
Morea. A work entitled Peloponnesus—Notes of Stud// and
Travel, by W. G. Clark, M.A., appeared in London, 1858.)
PELOPS, the son of Tantalus, and grandson of Jupiter,
was famous in classical fable for the singular events of his
life. While still young, he was butchered, boiled, and served
up at a feast which his father gave to the gods. Ceres, in
a trance of melancholy abstraction, immediately fell to, and
made a hearty meal on the cannibal fare. The other di¬
vinities, however, discovering the nature of the dish, shrunk
from touching it, and in course of time ordered Mercury to
restore the mangled body to life. Accordingly, the dead
fragments were put into a cauldron. The limbs, under the
action of some particular process, resumed their former
positions; a shoulder of ivory was substituted for the
shoulder of flesh which Ceres had eaten ; and the young
man came forth alive and entire. In spite of this patched-
up constitution, Pelops conducted himself boldly and suc¬
cessfully in his after-career. Becoming a suitor for the
hand of Hippodamia, the beautiful daughter of Gmomaus,
king of Pisa, he agreed to prosecute his suit on the hard
condition that he should either conquer the father in a cha- Pelta
riot-race or suffer death. The contest began. By the aid 11
of Neptune, or of Myrtilus, a treacherous servant of the king, Pembr<Ae.
he became the victor, and gained both the daughter and
the kingdom of Ginomaus. The tomb of Pelops was
preserved on the banks of the Alpheus, and a sanctuary
was dedicated to him in the grove Altis at Olympia.
Atreus and Thyestes were his sons. The Peloponnesus is
said to have been named after him.
PELTA, a small light shield, sometimes attributed to the
Amazons, but used by numerous nations of antiquity, such
as the inhabitants of Thrace, Spain, and Mauritania, before
its general introduction among the Greeks. It consisted
mainly of a frame of wood or wickerwork covered with
skin or leather, without the metallic rim, and of a great va¬
riety of shapes. It was sometimes round, as in the special
case of the cetra, sometimes elliptical, sometimes variously
sinuated round the rim, sometimes even quadrangular, but
most commonly crescent-shaped or lunated, as alluded to
in the “ Amazonidum lunatis agmina peltis” of Virgil.
(&neid, i. 490.) Soldiers bearing the pelta were called
peltastce.
PELUSIUM (7njA.os, mud), a frontier city of Lower
Egypt, situated on the easternmost bank of the Nile, called
the Ostium Pelusiacum, between the marshes of the delta
and the sea. Its original distance from the Mediterranean
was about 2% miles ; but, by the gradual deposition of sand
along the coast-line, it is now more than double that dis¬
tance inland. It was the Sin of the Hebrews (Ezek. xxx.
15), and the Peremoun or Peromi of the Copts—epithets all
agreeing in origin with the Greek designation, and with the
modern name Tineh, as “ the city ot ooze or mud. It
was celebrated in the time of Pliny for its ftxx.(Linum Pe¬
lusiacum), but its situation as the key of Egypt has gained
for it a yet more noisy fame. Sennacherib and his Assy¬
rians had their bow-strings and shield-straps gnawed in
sunder by field-mice while they slept under its walls (b.c.^
720-715); Cambyses, the Medo-Persian, won the crown of
the Pharaohs near Pelusium, B.c. 525 ; the Persians re-took
it, B.c. 456; it opened its gates to Alexander the Great,
B.c. 333 ; and it was taken and retained by Antiochus Epi-
phanes, b.c. 173, after routing the forces of Ptolemy Plulo-
metor near its gates. The invasion of Egypt by Amrou in
618 a.d., proved the ruin of Pelusium. After making it their
own, the khalifs neglected its harbours and its industry,
and the city gradually disappeared from history. Its site is
now marked by mounds and a few broken columns, (bee
the works of Champollion and Denon sur LEgypte ; also,
Murray’s Handbook for Egypt,by Sir Gardner W.lkmsom)
PELWORM, an island of Denmark, 8 miles off the W .
coast of Schleswig. Its area is about 15 square miles, and
the soil is good, but the surface is so low that the con tin ua
efforts of the inhabitants are necessary to prevent it from
being inundated by the sea. On the E. shore ,s the harbour
of Ostersiel. Pelworm was formerly joined to the huge
island of Nordstrand, from which it was separated by a
"“PEMBA,4 an^nH' .ha E. coas. of Africa, N. of
Zanzibar, S.’ Lat. (of the N W. end) 4. ^
44 • length about 40 miles, breadth 10. it is low, tertue,
and well wooded. Rice is extensively cultivated; and the
island serves as the granary to the adjacent country .
There are several creeks and indentations m the island, and
311 PEMBROKE, a municipal and parliamentary borough
and seaport town of Pembrokeshire, South Wales, is
situatedP0n a branch of Milford Haven 2oO miles W. by
N from London, and 10 from Haverfordwest, the county
town. It consists chiefly of one long irregularly-built
street, ascending gradually to the castle, winch stands on
a bold rocky promontory. The castle is a Norman struc-
374 P E M P E M
Pembroke- ture of great interest, and even in its present dilapidated
shire, condition is a magnificent pile. The keep or principal
tower, which is nearly perfect, is lofty and of beautiful
proportions. Some remains of the vralls that formerly
surrounded the town are still to be seen. There are
three churches, all ancient; and in the suburb of Monk-
town are some remains of a priory founded in 1098. There
are also several dissenting places of worship, but none
of the other buildings in the town require special notice.
Pembroke derives its chief importance from its suburb of
Pater, about 1 mile N.W. of the town, where is a govern¬
ment dockyard, and where a considerable trade is carried
on. The borough is governed by a mayor, six aldermen, and
eighteen councillors; and unites with Tenby, Milford, and
Wiston in returning a member to Parliament. Market-
day, Saturday. Pop. (1851) 10,107, of which Pater con¬
tains 6236.
PEMBROKESHIRE, a maritime county of Wales,
occupying the extreme S.W. point of the principality. It
is bounded on the N.E. by Cardiganshire, on the E. by
Caermarthenshire and Caermarthen Bay, and on all other
sides by the Irish Channel. The coast is very irregular in
its form, and deeply indented with bays. The celebrated
Milford Haven, which is in this county, penetrates with
some of its minor ramifications to near its centre. The
county is somewhat irregular in its general form, and is
narrowest towards the northern extremity. Its greatest
length from S. to N. is about 36 miles, and its greatest
breadth from E. to W. is about 30 miles. It has an area of
628 square miles, or 401,691 acres, and is sixth in order of
size of the Welsh counties. The Welsh name is Sir-Benfro,
which means the promontory or headland of the country.
The northern part of the county rests upon the Cambrian
group of rocks, but the southern portion lies chiefly on the
old red sandstone formation, overlaid, however, in a con¬
siderable part of its extent by the carboniferous strata.
The coal, which is chiefly anthracite, is but little worked.
The upper beds are scooped away by shallow workings,
and the produce—which is chiefly in the form of culm—
is worked up with a sufficient quantity of clay to make it
adhere together, and is then rolled into balls of about 4
inches in diameter. These are dried, and form the fuel
of the inhabitants ; so that a household fire generally seems
to consist of from six to ten red-hot cannon-balls.
The mountains in this county are of no great height;
but rising as they do almost from the sea-level, they present
a grander appearance than they otherwise would. The
principal range is that of the Precelly Mountains, in the
north, of which the highest point, Precelly Top, is 1754
feet above the sea-level. The general configuration of
the surface is undulating; but, with the exception of the
mountains already named, the hills are nowhere high. The
general want of trees, which, except in some sheltered situ¬
ations, are prevented from growing above the size of mere
shrubs by the south-west winds, gives a very naked and
uninviting appearance to the greater part of this county ;
but its shores are diversified by fine headlands and well-
sheltered bays, which lend a great charm to its coast
scenery, and have made the neighbourhood of Tenby, one
of its towns, well known as one of the most delightful of
watering-places.
The rivers are of very little importance. The chief
of these are the Eastern and Western Cleddau, which,
rising in different parts of the county, pour their waters
into two of the ramifications of Milford Haven. This
celebrated haven is without doubt the most remarkable
feature of the county. Its ramifications would be most
aptly represented by one of the sprawling monsters so
common on tea-cups. From its opening to the sea to the end
of some of its branches is little short of 20 miles. In
many places it is from 3 to 4 miles wide. It is completely
sheltered and land-locked. The water is of great depth, Pembroke-
and the anchorage good; and it is capable of holding the shire,
whole British navy within its recesses. It has been made
famous in English history by the landing of Richard II.
on his return from Ireland, where he lost his crown, and of
Richmond before the defeat and death of Richard III.
The climate is moist and mild, but the south-west wind
blows with the force of a tempest at times over the sur¬
face, and so affects the growth of trees that any of
these which have succeeded in raising their heads above
the shelter beside which they have been planted gradu¬
ally assume the appearance of a pole with streamers at¬
tached, owing to the branches being projected at right
angles to leeward. The soil in the southern part of the
county is very fertile, and yields great crops of wheat, barley,
and oats: potatoes and turnips are also largely grown. In
the north the soil is poor, and the farming in a very miser¬
able state. In the Castle Martin district, which is in the
extreme south of the county, and is separated from the
north by Milford Haven, there is some excellent farming;
and an admirable breed of black cattle, known as “ Castle
Martins,” is maintained. There is a considerable exporta¬
tion of salted butter and pork; and the breed of horses is
highly and justly prized. There is but little manufacturing
industry practised.
Of late years this remote district has been thoroughly
opened up by the South Wales line of railway, which,
with the Great Western, affords a continuous line from
London to the centre of the county; there is also a branch
to Milford Haven ; and attempts are now being made
to connect Milford Haven with Manchester by a direct line
to the north. If this project should be carried out, it is
expected that Milford Haven, which at present is chiefly
important as possessing one of the great government dock¬
yards erected during the last continental war, will be¬
come one of the greatest mercantile entrepots in the British
Islands.
The principal towns are Pembroke, Haverfordwest, St
David’s, Tenby, Fishguard, Milford, and Narberth. The
county returns one member to Parliament; Haverford¬
west, with Fishguard, Narberth, and St David’s, returns
another ; and Pembroke, with Tenby, Wiston, and Milford,
returns a third. Much of the political influence was in the
hands of the Owens of Orielton, but it has now passed into
various hands.
A remarkable social feature in this county is the separa¬
tion between the Welsh and “ English,” so-called, inhabi¬
tants, although these latter and their progenitors have been
for many generations natives of the county. This separa¬
tion has extended itself to language, customs, and even
names of places ; and while in the south everywhere Eng¬
lish names, and the common English affix ton, are met with,
in the northern parts the names of people and places are as
purely Welsh as any in the principality. This peculiarity
dates from a remote period, when a colony of Flemings
were settled in the county.
Throughout the whole county Druidical remains are fre¬
quently met with ; and in the north, near Newport, some
of the most remarkable cromlechs anywhere to be met with
still exist. The Coiton Arthur, one of these, on the northern
slope of Precelly, is so lofty that a man on horseback may
ride under the great stone or sacrificial slab, which is of
such gigantic proportions as to excite feelings of wonder
and curiosity as to the means which were employed to raise
it to its place.
The population by the census of 1851 was 94,140, of
which number 43,675 were males, and 50,465 females. This
gives 149 persons to a square mile, or 4'3 acres to a person.
The number of inhabited houses in 1851 was 19,136. There
were 937 houses uninhabited, and 111 in course of build¬
ing, giving 30 houses to a square mile, and 4'9 persons to
Penang
II
Pencils.
PEN
a house. The amount of real property assessed to the in¬
come-tax in 1851 was L.358,849, and of property assessed
to the relief of the poor L.288,604. It is calculated that
nearly 11 per cent, of the population live by agriculture;
9 per cent, by commerce, manufactures, &c. One-fourth of
the whole are in the condition of labourers, servants, &c.
Six hundred follow professions, and three thousand possess
independent means.
In 1847 the total number of day-schools for the working-
classes was 206, attended by 8053 scholars, of whom 49*5
per cent, were in Church of England schools. I here were
also 223 Sunday-schools, attended by 17,416 children, of
whom only 3403 were in Church of England schools. The
language is purely Welsh or purely English in the different
districts of the county before referred to. ( J. G-W-D.)
PENANG. See Prince of Wales Island.
PENARANDA-DE-BRACEMONTE, a town of
Spain, in the province of Salamanca, 26 miles S.E. of the
town of that name. It contains a parish church, an hospital,
a Franciscan convent, court-house, prison, schools, &c. Ma¬
nufactures are carried on of coarse woollen stuffs, hats,
morocco leather, shoes, saddlebags, and other articles. In
1811 the Spaniards were defeated by the French at Penar-
anda. Pop. 4140.
PENAS DE SAN PEDRO, a town of Spain, in the
province of Albacete, 16 miles S.S.W. of the town of that
name. It is surrounded with walls, and stands at the foot
of a hill which is crowned by an almost impregnable fort.
In the principal square stands the court-house and the
prison, and in other parts of the town a parish church and
schools. Chocolate, flour, soap, linen stuffs, See., are made
here^ and some trade is carried on in wine, sheep, wool,
&c. Pop. 7258.
PENATES, the household gods of the Romans, whe¬
ther private, as relating to the family proper, or public, as
relating to the family of citizens or the state. The word is
derived by Freund {Lexicon, v. “Penates”) from the root
pen, expressing the idea of entering, interior ; and hence
signifies properly deities of the interior {penetralia) of the
house. The Lares were included among the penates with
which they were not unfrequently confounded. (See Lares.)
Of the former, however, a family had usually but one,
whereas the penates are always spoken of in the plural,
their number and names being indeed indefinite, as we
learn from Varro. (Arnob. iii. 40, 123 ; Macrob. hi. 4.)
These divinities included Jupiter, Juno, and Vesta, as the
promoters of domestic union and happiness ; but authori¬
ties do not always agree as to the exact divinities wor¬
shipped as penates. Their original seat is generally re¬
presented as Lavinium, whither they had been borne by
./Eneas from Troy. The private penates were worshipped
at the hearth of every house, where a perpetual fire was
kept burning in their honour, and on the table stood always
the salt-cellar and the first fruits of the ground. Every
meal was virtually a sacrifice to the penates. On going
abroad, a prayer was offered to these divinities for a happy
journey; and on returning to the hearth, the penates were
saluted like the living inhabitants. A chapel to the penates
of Rome stood near the centre of the city, in a place called
Sub-Velia. (See Hartung, Die Relig. der Rom.; Smith’s
Diet, of Gr. and Rom. Biog. and Myth. ; and Adam’s
Roman Antiquities.)
PENCILS. The namepencilis applied to a small hair
brush used by artists, and also to a slender cylinder of black
lead inclosed in a case, and used for drawing or writing.
Hair pencils are made from the hair of the camel, the
badger, the squirrel, the goat, and some other animals. A
small bundle of hairs, with the points in one direction, is
tied with strong thread at the root ends, and the points
having been temporarily secured, the bundle is introduced
at the wide end of apiece of quill tube, previously softened
PEN
375
by moisture, when the thickness of the roots and of the Pencils,
binding thread prevents the bundle from passing quite
through, while the contraction of the tube in drying holds
the tuft securely. The broad end of the quill forms the
socket for a holder of cedar wood. Some skill is required
in tying and inserting the bundle of hair, for if pinched too
tightly, the hairs spread out, instead of forming a fine
point, and if not sufficiently pinched, they fall out. Hair
pencils are made from the size of a crow or pigeon-quill to
that of a swan. When larger pencils are required, tubes of
tin-plate are used, with the stick firmly secured therein.
Lead pencils of the best kind are made of slender four¬
sided threads, which were formerly cut by means of a saw
from solid pieces of plumbago. These threads were cal¬
cined in close vessels at a bright red heat, which imparts
brilliancy and softness to the stroke of the pencil. The
excellence of the mineral, as obtained from the mine of
Borrowdale in Cumberland, has long given celebrity to
English pencils; and the crayons dHAngleterre are in great
esteem on the Continent. Mines of plumbago have been
discovered in the United States of America, the most im¬
portant of which is that at Sturbridge in Massachusetts.
The mineral, however, is coarse in texture compared with
that of Borrowdale. The method of preparing it is as fol¬
lows :—It is pulverized, purified by sifting, and the powder
is condensed into thin sheets by means of intense pressure;
a welding property discovered by Mr Brockedon some years
ago, and now brought into general use, owing to the threat¬
ened exhaustion of the Cumberland mine, and also for using
up the waste material of the manufacture. The plan is to
reduce the plumbago to a very fine powder, then to exhaust
the intersticial air, and to subject the powder to the force
of a hydrostatic press. In this way coherent masses are
formed as dense and as useful as the original plumbago.
Slices having been cut from a block thus formed : the edge
of a slice is inserted in a channel in the cedar-holder, and
being cut off, the process is repeated until the groove is
filled; or the lead may be cut into square threads, which,
after being rounded by passing through circular holes cut
in pieces of ruby, are made into the proper lengths for
ever-pointed pencils. The cedar for the handles is impoited
chiefly from South America.
The costliness of the best lead pencils has led to many
attempts to economize the material by the introduction of
other substances. The most successful attempt of this
kind was made towards the end of the last century by a
Frenchman named Conte. By mixing pure clay m various
proportions with black lead in powder, and also with various
coloured earths, he was able to produce pencils and crayons
of various degrees of hardness and tint. _ The clay was
carefully washed, and diffused in tubs of river-water, and
after settlin- for two minutes, the milky liquor was drawn
off by a syphon into a second tub, and the finest partic es
thus collected formed a soft and plastic mass fit for use
after having been dried on linen filters. I he pov dere
plumbago was calcined in a crucible to nearly a white heat,
after which it was mixed with the clay m varying propor¬
tions; a fine hard pencil being produced by two paits of
clay to one of plumbago, and a softer pencil by equa parts
of each. The powders, when mixed, were triturated with
water, and ground on a porphyry slab and when of the
proper consistence, the paste or dough was pressed into
Grooves in a board, previously greased, and another board
was screwed down upon it; in this condition the air could
act only on the ends of the pencils in the grooves and
these shrinking as they dried, the air gradually entered and
dried the whole lengths. The drying was completed in an
oven at a moderate heat, after which the threads were
hardened by heating them in a crucible with sand or char¬
coal powder, the heat being regulated according to the de¬
cree of hardness required. If intended for very fine work, ,
376 PEN
Pendulum, such as architectural drawing, the threads were heated, and
then immersed in melted wax or suet, nearly boiling hot.
It was also found that different degrees of hardness could
be obtained by plunging the pencils in various saline solu¬
tions, such as that of sulphate of soda, more or less concen¬
trated. The lead thus prepared was then placed in the
cedar cases in the usual way.
It has been asserted that the moderate admixture of clay
with powdered plumbago takes away that unpleasant glis¬
tening property which we sometimes see in pencil-drawings,
and does not diminish the blackness. By the addition of
lamp-black to the clay and plumbago, pencils of every shade
of black have been produced. The mixture must be calcined
with exclusion of air, and afterwards made into a paste.
The hardest pencils of the architect are made of lead
melted with antimony and a small proportion of mercury.
The cheapest pencils are made with black lead in powder
mixed with melted sulphur, and poured into holders of
wood, of reeds, or of rushes. Common carpenters’ pencils
are made in this way. The graphitic modification of car¬
bon deposited in the interior of coal-gas retorts is also used
in the manufacture of lead-pencils. Gum-arabic, resin,
sulphuret of antimony, fusible glass in powder, and other
substances, are all used in making cheap pencils.
FEN
Slate pencils are made of slate for writing on slabs of the Pendant
same material. Slate pencils have been made artificially
by mixing slate powder with vulcanized india-rubber for Pendulum,
writing on slabs of the same material, which are not liable
to break ; but the objection to the frequent handling of
vulcanized india-rubber is the unpleasant smell occasioned
by the sulphur. (c. T.)
PENDANT, an ornament hanging at the ear, and
frequently composed of diamonds, pearls, or other jewels.
Pendants, in Heraldry, parts hanging down from the
label to the number of three, four, five, or six at most, re¬
sembling the drops in the Doric frieze. When they are
more than three,1 they must be specified in blazoning.
Pendants of a Ship are those streamers or long colours
which are split and divided into two parts, ending in points,
and suspended at the heads of masts, or at the yard-arm
ends.
PENDLETON, a suburb of Manchester, on the slope
of a hill to the N.W. of the town, consisting principally of
a continuation of the main street of Salford. It contains
churches belonging to various denominations, several
schools, and a mechanics’ institute. The inhabitants are
chiefly employed in cotton-spinning, calico-printing, bleach¬
ing, and dyeing. Pop. 14,224.
PENDULUM.
The application of the pendulum to clock-work was one
of the great steps of human progress. The motion of time¬
keepers had previously been regulated by means of a ba¬
lanced arm, which was made to vibrate backwards and for¬
wards by the teeth of a wheel, called, from its peculiar shape,
a crown-wheel. The time of vibration of this balance de¬
pended on the extent of its motion, and on the propelling
force; and therefore clocks of this kind could hardly go
with regularity ; yet their performance was so satisfactory
that they came into general use, and were made so small
as to be portable.
Galileo, happening to observe that the oscillation of the
chandelier in a cathedral was performed in the same time
when the motion was dying away, as when it was exten¬
sive, was led to the idea of employing pendulums for the
measurement of time. But the discovery of the true
theory of isochronous vibration was made by Christian
Huvgens, who showed that the time of an oscillation is in¬
dependent of its extent when the tendency of the body to
return to its point of rest is exactly proportional to its dis¬
tance from that point, and applied pendulums to regulate
the motion of clocks. Now, in the case of a pendulum,
the tendency to return is proportional to the sine of the
arc, whereas the distance is proportional to the arc itself,
and therefore the oscillations of a pendulum through large
and through small arcs cannot be performed in times ex¬
actly equal to each other.
Let two bodies, A and B (fig. 1), of exactly equal weights,
Eig. 1.
be drawn to their points of rest, O and Q, by tendencies
exactly proportional to their distances from them; sup¬
pose that A is drawn twice as far from O as B is from
Q, and that both are released at the same instant. The
tendency of A to return is double of the tendency of B,
and therefore, in some minute interval of time, when A
has moved over the distance AC, B will have moved over
BD, the half of AC, and will have acquired a velocity half
of that of A ; wherefore, at every succeeding interval of
time, A must have moved twice as far as B, so that A must
reach O at the very instant when B reaches Q. Proceed¬
ing on the other side of their respective points of rest, their
velocities will be gradually diminished, that of A always
being double that of B ; and the two velocities will be
extinguished simultaneously when the two bodies have
reached distances equal, severally, to OA and QB. Thus
it is clear that the two oscillations would go on together,
and, as the same argument would hold for any other ratio
of OA to QB, that the oscillations are performed in the
same time, whatever may be their extents.
In order to obtain a faultless time-keeper, Huygens saw
that some contrivance must be made for rendering the i*e-
dressing tendency exactly proportional to the distance from
the mean position. Now, the pressure required to bend a
spring is proportional to the extent of flexure; and so, by
attaching one end of a slender spring to the axis of the
balance, the other end being fixed to the frame-work, Huy¬
gens at once brought the construction of watches to per¬
fection as far as this part of their theory goes.
For the purpose of rendering the oscillations of a pen¬
dulum isochronous, he remarked that the tendency of a
body to descend along a curve varies as the sine of the
angle which the curve makes with the horizon ; so that if a
curve can be found such that the length of its arc, counted
from the lowest point, is proportional to the sine of its ob¬
liquity, the oscillations of a heavy body describing that
curve would be isochronous. Now, the cycloid, or curve
described by a point in the circumference of a wheel which
is rolled along a straight line, possesses this property ; so
that it only remained to contrive some mechanical arrange¬
ment which might produce a cycloidal motion. Huygens
availed himself of the fact, that the evolute of a cycloid is
another cycloid of equal dimensions. Let BOC (fig. 2) be
the cycloid generated by rolling the circle of which
DO is the diameter along the straight line BDC, and
having produced OD to the equal distance DA, place BA
and AC, two half cycloids, equal to OC and OB. Then, if
a tangent be applied at any point T in the half cycloid AC,
and be continued to meet OC in P, the length of the tan¬
gent TP is exactly equal to that of the cycloidal arc TC.
Hence, if a plate of wood or metal be shaped into the form
P E N D U L
Pendulum. ATC, and if a string fastened at A, and equal in length to
i AO, be partially wound upon the edge AT of the plate,
U M.
377
A
the other end P will describe the cycloidal arc OC, while
another plate fitted to the curve BA will serve to produce
the motion along BO.
The invention of the cycloidal pendulum has added much
to the celebrity of Huygens, although it have failed to
realize any practical advantages.
The difficulty of shaping the cycloidal cheeks, the loss
of force caused by the bending of the flexible part of the
pendulum, and, still more, the fact that the error of the ordi¬
nary pendulum is exceedingly small, have caused the cycloi¬
dal pendulum to fall into disuse; and it is now only to be
found in the lecture-room as an admirable instrument for
illustrating important principles.
The theory of the cycloidal pendulum has been received
as complete; it is, however, defective thus far, that it can
only apply to an imaginary pendulum consisting of a single
heavy point, supported by a thread destitute of w-eight.
Whenever we take into account the various motions of the
parts of which any actual pendulum must be composed, the
isochronism is found awanting.
Clock pendulums are now either suspended on knife-
edges, or by means of thin flat springs.
The latter mode of suspension is by far the more com¬
mon, because by far the better of the two. The elasticity
of a steel spring is so nearly perfect that the loss of force
attending its flexure and re-flexure is insignificant; nor is
the oft-repeated bending found to alter its length even in
many years, whereas the knife-edge is liable to a continual
wear, which gradually deranges the going of the clock.
Except as instruments for philosophical research, pendulums
supported by knife-edges are hardly ever to be met with.
In an actual pendulum the various parts move with differ¬
ent velocities, whereas hitherto we have been supposing
them all to move at one rate, or, which comes to the same
thing, we have been assun ing the whole mass of the pen¬
dulum to be accumulated at a single point, and the weight
of the suspending thread
to be zero. This imagi¬
nary arrangement is called
the simple pendulum, and
we must become acquaint¬
ed with the manner in
which such an ideal pen¬
dulum would move in or¬
der to be able to investi¬
gate the motions of a real
or compound pendulum.
Let A (fig. 3) be the
point of suspension, AG
the suspending thread supposed to be devoid of weight,
vol. xvn.
and G a minute heavy particle, constrained by the thread Pendulum,
to move in the circular arc QOQ'. If the weight be
brought aside to the point Q, and then let go, it will de¬
scend, gaining speed until it reach the lowest point O; then
rising along the arc OQ' its velocity will gradually diminish
until, at a distance OQ', equal to OQ, it become zero, when
the body will begin immediately to descend again towards
O. If there were no resistance from friction or from the
air, this oscillation would continue for ever.
For the purpose of computing the time in which the
pendulum performs its oscillation, we observe that, accord¬
ing to the well-known laws of mechanics, the velocity which
the body acquires in descending from Q to G along the
curve, is exactly equal to that which it would have acquired
in falling from B to C. There is thus no difficulty in telling
the velocity of the pendulum at each point of its arc; but
it is by no means so easy to compute the time during which,
with this ever-changing velocity, the pendulum will pass
from Q to O.
If g represent the intensity of gravitation as measured by
the velocity which a falling body acquires in one second of
time, and if h denote the height through which the body
has fallen, its velocity is given by the well known formula
v=V{2gh)'t  (1.)
so that if A be taken for BC, the same expression gives the
velocity which the pendulum has as it passes the point G.
If we put L for the length of the thread AG, A for the
angle OAQ, a for OAG, we have BC = L (cos a-cos A),
and therefore
v=V(2^L) {cos a —cos A}k . • (2.)
Assume now some small arc GH, and the time which
the heavy body wrould take to pass from G to H would be
 , if its velocity did not change during that time.
Actu¬
ally the time must be somewhat less than this, because the
velocity at H is somewhat greater than that at G; but the
smaller this distance GH is taken, the less change there
will be in the velocity, and therefore the more nearly will
r~* tt
the fraction —— express the time occupied in passing from
the one point to the other. In order to compute the whole
time, we must suppose the arc QO to be divided into a
great number of parts; compute the time for each, and add
all these times together; and, that this computation may
have any pretension to exactitude, the parts must be made
very numerous. It is impossible to accomplish such a cal¬
culation without the aid of the infinitesimal method.
Let then 8a represent the minute angle LAH, and M
the corresponding element of time; then, since —
we have i
^7”^ {cos a —cos A} Sa, (3.)
which gives the differential of the time, and which has to
be summed or integrated in order to give the whole time _
Considerable artifice is required in order to effect the in
tegration of this formula. Putting A = 2B, a - 2/3, whence
cos A = 1—2 sin B2, cos a=l-2 sin /3, it becomes
changed into
!=y A) {sin B=-sin/?=}-* 8/3 • (4-)
Assume now an angle y, such that
sin/?=sin B . sin y, ....
and equation (4) becomes transformed into this one-
8t = bJ {1 - sin B2 sin y2}~i Sy; .
or, developing by help of the binomial theoi era,
" 6 B
v = « and or
ot
Stz
(5.)
(6.)
378
PENDULUM.
Pendulum.
{1 + sin B2 sin y2 +1 x | sin B1 sin y4
+ |-x f x sin B6 sin ys+ &G.} Sy, . (7.)
each separate term of which can be integrated by help of
the formula
8y — — sin 7n—1 cos y.
n
The result becomes, when arranged,
It [!+(*)’ smB>+(4.J)>sir.
& ^ sin B6 + &c.]
- cos y sin y [Q-)2 sin B2 + . f)2 sin B4 + Q-. f • f )2
sin B6+ &c.]
- f cos y sin y3 [ (l . |)2 sin B4 + (-J. . |-)2 sin B0 + See.']
- f . f cos y sin y5 [ Q-. f . f )2 sin B6 + &c.] + &c. (8.)
This complex formula gives us the interval of time during
which the pendulum describes the arc OG, corresponding
to the angle OAG = 2/?. In order to find the entire time
of describing the arc OQ, we must put y —90°, in which
case (3 becomes equal to B; this gives cos y=0, and
£T = a/ (^) i {1 + (i)2 sin R2 + (£ * !)2 sin Bl + };
or, denoting by T the whole time of a beat,
T = 7nv/ ^ |n-(i)2sinB2 + a.|)2sinB4 + &c.} (9.)
for the time of passing from Q to Q'. From this the time
of an oscillation can be very readily computed, since, in all
practical cases, the angle B is very small.
If we imagine the extent of an oscillation to be exceed¬
ingly minute, the terms containing the powers of sin B may
be neglected, and we have the usual formula
T^x/y, or ^T2=7t2L, . (10.)
which gives the time of oscillation of an ideal pendulum,
consisting of a single heavy point supported by a thread
having no weight, and making oscillations imperceptible in
extent.
From this equation it follows, that the lengths of simple
pendulums are proportional to the squares of their times:
for example, a pendulum swinging thirty times per minute
must be four times as long as the common seconds pendu¬
lum, while a half-seconds pendulum must only have one-
fourth part of the length.
According to observations made on moving bodies by
means of Attwood’s machine, the value of g comes out to
be about 32 English feet, or 384 inches; wherefore the
length of a simple pendulum vibrating in seconds should be
inches nearly.
But neither observations made directly on falling bodies,
nor those made by help of Attwood’s machine, are suscep¬
tible of precision, while, as we shall see, measurements of
the pendulum can be made with very great nicety; and
thus, instead of deducing the length of the pendulum from
the value of g, we derive an accurate knowledge of the in¬
tensity of gravitation from experiments made with the pen¬
dulum.
How minute soever the arc of vibration may be, the time
of describing it must be longer than the result obtained from
equation (10); and our first business, in attempting to de¬
duce any accurate results from experiments made with the
pendulum is, to determine the effect of the amplitude of
the arc.
By help of equation (9), the following table has been
computed, showing the time in which a pendulum will oscil¬
late through arcs of 2°, 4°, 6°...up to 20°, that of making an Pendulum,
infinitely small oscillation being taken as the unit:—
Half
Arc.
0°
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Time of Oscii/lation.
1-00000
1-00001
1-00007
1-00017
1-00030
1-00047
1-00068
1-00093
1-00121
1-00154
1-00190
1-00230
1-00274
1-00322
1-00374
1-00430
1-00489
1-00553
1-00620
1 00691
1-00766
00000
90389
61597
13742
47024
61725
58201
36894
98324
43092
71881
85457
84664
70434
43777
05792
57658
00642
36096
65459
90258
1st Biff.
1 90389
5 71208
9 52145
13 33282
17 14701
20 96476
24 78693
28 61430
32 44768
36 28789
40 13576
43 99207
47 85770
51 73343
55 62015
59 51866
63 42984
67 35454
71 29363
75 24799
2d Diff.
3 80819
80937
81137
81419
81775
82217
82737
83338
84021
84787
85631
86563
87573
88672
89851
91118
92470
93909
95436
Excess of Apparent Day.
Arc.
Sec.
0°
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
0-00000
1-64496
6-58020
14-80673
26-32629
41-14130
59-25486
80-67076
105-39352
133-42831
164-78106
199-45835
237-46750
278-81655
323-51424
371-57004
422-99416
477-79754
535-99187
597-58956
662-60383
1st Dili'.
1-64496
4-93524
8-22653
11-51956
14-81501
18-11356
21-41590
24-72276
28-03479
31-35275
34-67729
38-00915
41-34905
44-69769
48-05580
51-42412
54-80338
58-19433
61-59769
65 01427
2d Diff.
3-29028
3-29129
3-29303
3-29545
3-29855
3-30234
3-30686
3-31203
3-31796
3-32454
3-33186
3-33990
3-34864
3-35811
3 36832
3-37926
3-39095
3-40336
3-41658
The first column in each of these tables contains the half
arc of vibration, or the extreme angular distance from the
vertical line. The second column of the first table contains
the time of an oscillation, with the first and second differences
for the purpose of interpolating; and that of the second, the
excess of the apparent day (or twenty-four hours as shown
by the clock) over the true day (or that which would be
shown by a clock of which the oscillations are impercep¬
tible).
From these tables we see the importance of having a clock
pendulum arranged to make small oscillations. If, to take
an extreme example, we had a pendulum kept swinging to
a distance of 20° on each side of the vertical line, and had
it regulated to go to true time; and if, by the thickening
of the oil, or some analogous change in the maintaining
power, the oscillations were reduced to 19°, the clock
would gain upon true time by 64s'567, since the number
of beats per day would be increased in the ratio of
1-00691 65459: 1-00766 90258. But if, by augmenting
the load on the pendulum, and, of course, properly modify¬
ing the escapement, the arc of vibration were reduced to
only 1° on each side of the vertical line, and the clock
again adjusted to go in true time ; and thereafter, if a
change in the maintaining power were to take place, so as
to reduce the arc by one-twentieth part as before, the beats
1
PENDULUM.
379
Pendulum, of the clock would be increased in the ratio of I’OOOOl 72491
v ,  /'to 1-00001 90389, and there would be a daily gain of
08'154636. Thus a variation in the intensity ot the main¬
taining power would occasion four hundred times as great
an error on the pendulum with the long sweep as on that
with the short one ; the unsteadiness arising from this
source being proportional nearly to the square of the am¬
plitude.
“ This may be confirmed by a very simple but beautiful
experiment. Having suspended a leaden ball by means ot
a slender thread, let this simple pendulum be put in motion,
so that the ball may describe a curve known to bear a con¬
siderable resemblance to the ellipse. If the times of vibra¬
tion along the two axes of this curve were exactly equal to
each other, the ball w-ould repeatedly retrace the same
orbit; but these times of vibration are different, and during
the passage from end to end of the long axis the ball has
more than returned to its position in reference to the short
one, so that the axes of the orbit are gradually displaced in
the direction of the movement of the ball.” {Edin. New
Phil. Jour., vol. xv., p. 140.)
Having now investigated the law of the motion of an
imaginary simple pendulum, we have to examine the case
of a real one, consisting of parts, each moving with its own
relative velocity. We shall first consider it as moving in a
vacuum, and examine afterwards the effect of the air.
The weights of the various parts of the compound pen¬
dulum produce a tendency to turn it upon its axis, exactly
equal to that which would be produced by the whole weight
of the pendulum acting at its centre of gravity. But the
quantity of motion existing in a moving body is greater
than that which would have existed in it if all concentrated
at its centre of gravity, by the motion of rotation which it
would have had if turning simply with the same angular
velocity on an axis passing through the centre of gravity;
wherefore, in every possible case, the oscillations ot a pen¬
dulum must be slower than those of a simple pendulum
represented by the centre of gravity ot the compound one.
If A(fig. 4) be the axis
of motion supposed
perpendicular to the
plane of the paper, and
G the centre of gravity
of a compound pendu¬
lum, its motion may
be represented thus:
From G, with the dis¬
tance GR equal to the
mean distance of gy¬
ration of the mass, de¬
scribe a circle ; then Fig. 4.
if we suppose the whole w-eight of the pendulum to be dis¬
tributed uniformly round the circumference of this circle,
the motions of this imaginary ring will represent those of
the compound pendulum.
When the point G is moving along the arc QGQ', with
the velocity v, the force of translation is v2W, W being the
whole weight of the pendulum ; but the velocity of rotation
of the ring R is or, symbolically, v-j-, putting
GR = R, AG=T; wherefore the rotatory motion is
”-pW;
and therefore the whole motion existing in the moving
mass is
W^i!±51=F. . . . (11.)
Now the total quantity of motion in any system, as mea¬
sured by combining the weight of each part with the square
of its velocity, is proportional to the quantity of tvork which
has produced that motion, the work being estimated by Pendulum,
combining each pressure with the distance through which
it has acted, so that in any system whatever
2g . work = motion.
But the pressure in this case is W, and the distance through
which it has acted is l (cos a-cos A) ; so that W/(cosTa
- cos A) represents the quantity of work expended in pro¬
ducing the motion F. Wherefore
2g W/(cos a-cos A) = W^ —;
8a
(12.)
or, putting for v its equivalent l
8t:
/ / /
V (Az) t
'2g '
8t
cos a - cos A}-5 Sa. . (12.)
If, then, we make GS a third proportional to AG and GR,
and put AS = L, or
R2
(13.)
we shall have
8t
{cos a - COS A} 4 Sa,
which is an exact copy of equation (3); and therefore we
conclude that the compound pendulum, of which GR is the
mean distance of gyration, will oscillate in exactly the same
time as a simple pendulum of which the length is AS.
From this equation (12) it appears that the oscillations
of a compound are similar to those of a simple pendulum,
and that therefore the tables which we have given apply to
actual clocks.
But the investigation also shows clearly that the oscilla¬
tions of a compound cycloidal pendulum cannot be isochro¬
nous; for when the pendulum is at the middle, the quantity
of motion is augmented in the ratio of AO’ + R" : AO-,
whereas, when the pendulum is in the direction rP, the
augmentation is in the ratio of 1P2 + R": IP2? which is a
higher ratio ; so that this circumstance ought to be taken
into account when we investigate the isochronism ot a com¬
pound pendulum. . ,
The point S is called the centre of oscillation, or that
point at which, if the whole mass of the pendulum were
supposed to be concentrated, the time of osci lation won c
not be changed ; and we have this property, that the rect¬
angle under the distances of the point of suspension, and of
the centre of oscillation from the centre of gravity, is equi¬
valent to the square of the mean distance of gyration, and
is therefore constant for the same pendulum; that is
AG GS = GR2
From this law Huygens concluded that the point of sus¬
pension and the centre of oscillation are int^rch“^able ,
in other words, if the pendulum were suspended °n an axis
passing through the point S, its time of oscillation would be
the same as when suspended fioro A. ,
Captain Eater proposed to utilize this property by em¬
ploying it to determine the exact length of a simple pen-
dulum vibrating in the same time with a compound one
For this purpose he placed two knife-edges exactly parallel
to each other, one at A, the other at S, and carefully ad¬
justed the weights of the parts by repeated trials, until he
found that the two times of oscillation were alike ; then,
measuring the distance between the two knife-edges, he ob¬
tained the length of the corresponding simple pendulum ;
from which the intensity of gravitation can be computed
This beautiful process is the only one available for de¬
termining with great nicety the length of the seconds pen¬
dulum since it avoids the difficult and unsatisfactory opera¬
tion of measuring with great precision the dimensions ot the
various parts ; it'is, however, subject to several sources of
380
PENDULUM.
Pendulum, minute error, which have either to be guarded against 01
allowed for.
The first, of these sources of error is the wearing of the
knife-edges, which gradually changes the points of suspen¬
sion, and renders a new adjustment necessary ; and it is a
very important question, whether the distance between two
blunted knife-edges on which the oscillations are performed
in equal times be truly the length of the coi responding
simple pendulum. M. .Laplace demonstrated that the
blunting of the edges does not impair the accuracy of the
convertible pendulum.
For the purpose of examining thoroughly into this matter,
let the pendulum be suspended
on a cylinder, of which the axis
is A (fig. 5), and the radius
AM = p; this cylinder rolling
upon a horizontal plane KL.
In this arrangement the point
G must describe a convoluted
cycloid, while A moves in a
horizontal line.
The linear motion of the
point G is composed of two
motions, one perpendicular and
proportional to AG, represented
by l.8a, and the other horizon¬
tally, on account of the motion of the centre A, represented
by p . 8a. The angle of these two motions being a, it follows
that the square of the actual linear motion of G is (P-2lp
cos a + p2) 8a2; wherefore the motion of translation is
Fig. 5.
Vir{i'2-2lp cos a + p2}
©
St
*]
+(M
+(i-s
is minute in comparison with AG, and when the angle B Pendulum,
also is very small,—the expression becomes
T = nearly 7r\/ ^ l {1 + J sin B2 (1 + A)}
and, if the oscillations be supposed to be infinitesimally
minute,
(T)=J{^} • • (>6-)
which agrees with those of a simple pendulum of which
the length is
R2 + P2
L = £ +
l
-2P.
(17.)
and the entire quantity of motion in the system
/ 3(X \ 2
W{l2-2lp cos a+ p2 + R2} ;
while the descent of the centre of gravity is as before,
/(cos A-cos a), so that the equation of motion becomes,
putting, as before, A = 2B, a = 2/3,
-j®
or, making sin (3 = sin B . sin y, and putting, for shortness
sake, 4/p _.
(/-p)2+R2
(’4->
Expanding the variable part of this expression according
to the powers of sin y2, integrating each term, and taking
the integral between the limits y= — tp y —2> we ^iave ^or
the time of an oscillation—
t=tt\/{i + a)2 sin B2 •
+ (i .f)2 sin B4[l + |xU/'-f.|xU.}/r]
: sin B6 [1 +fxL /^-Mxu.}/r + f .-M
x i • 4-I £’]
.£)2sinB8[l + f x^/e-f .f x£.£&2 + £.f-f
+ i .J.f A3-&c.] + &c.J- . . . (15.)
the law of progression of which is obvious.
This formula gives the time of oscillation of a pendulum
suspended on a cylinder, without any restriction as to the
I’adius of curvature. From it we see that the correction for
amplitude is not the same as for a pendulum hung by a
perfect knife-edge, and that therefore the motions of no
simple pendulum can strictly represent those of this one.
When the value of k is small,—that is to say, when AM
If, then, it were proposed to place the cylinder A at such
a distance from the centre of gravity as that the time of a
minute oscillation may be equal to that of a simple pen¬
dulum having the length L, we should have to solve the
quadratic equation—
Z2-(L + 2p)Z+R2 + p2=0.
Now, according to the properties of such equations, if Zand
X be the two roots, their sum must be L + 2p, and their pro¬
duct R2 + p2, or
Z + A=L + 2p; ZA=R2 + p2. • • (18*)
Now Z+A represents the distance between the centres of
two cylinders placed on opposite sides of the centre of
gravity ; and thus, since
Z + A-2p = L,
the distance between the surfaces of the cylindeis is equal
to the length of the corresponding simple pendulum.
This investigation is free from all limitations as to the
magnitude of the cylinders ; so that if carefully-turned and
polished cylinders were substituted for the knife-edges, and
if the corrections for the amplitudes of the arcs of vibration
were made according to the formula (15), the results would
be rigorously exact.
When the curvatures of the two edges are not alike, an
error is introduced, because the one distance is then the
major root of the equation
Z2 - (L + 2p) Z + R2 + p2=0.
while the other is the minor root of anothei equation
Z2- (L + 2p') Z+R2 + p'2=0.
The sum of these roots, when p and p are minute, approaches
sensibly to l+p+p;
so that in practical cases the fact of the edges being
blunted does not vitiate the results. ,
The next source ot error which we shall consider is the
buoyancy of the air in which the experiments are made.
If the pendulum were composed entirely of one kind of
material, its centre of gravity would coin-
cide with the centre of buoyancy, and the
co-efficient W in the first member of equa¬
tion (12) would have to be replaced by
W - A, A being the weight of the displaced
air. But when the pendulum is made of
various materials, the inquiry becomes a
little more difficult. It will be enough to
consider those cases in which the centie
of buoyancy, the centre of gravity, and the
points of suspension, lie all in one straight
line. Let then B (fig. 6) be the centre of
buoyancy, its distance from G being repre¬
sented by e; then the motion which the sys¬
tem has acquired being due to the descent
of the weight W through the distance /
(cos a - cos A) less that of A through (/ - e)
(cos a-cos A), we must have
Fig. G.
PENDULUM.
381
Pendulum.
%{(W -A) /+Ae} (cos a —cos A)
= W(£2 + R
wherefore the length of a corresponding simple pendulum
vibrating in vacuo is
r W(Z2 + R2) (9)
L~(W-A)l + Ae' ' ' ' ^
If then we desire to place A so that the oscillations may
agree with those of the simple pendulum L, we must solve
the quadratic equation
O'w) u+R2-wLe=0- • (2a)
The two roots of this equation will not represent the one
GA on the one side and the other GA' on the other side
of the centre of gravity, but two distances on one side,
either of which will satisfy the condition of oscillation.
When the pendulum is inverted to be suspended from the
point A', the equation becomes, putting X for GA',
X1- (l-w) LX+R! + ^Le=0. . (21.)
The major root of the one and the minor root of the
other being taken, we have the proper values of / and A,
viz.,—
W-A
2W
, W-A
A=~2\r
W-A
2W
W-A
2W
\ 2 A
L) -R^Le
l) ‘ - R2 - ^-Le
}
}
the sum of which is no longer independent of the speciali¬
ties of construction of the pendulum.
If the centre of buoyancy coincide with the centre of
gravity, e becomes zero, and
W-A
/+A=AL^L;. . . .(22.)
from which the length of the simple pendulum can be
easily deduced; but in no other case can the reversible
pendulum vibrating in air give a result dependent only on
the measurement of the distance between the knife-edges.
While the air modifies the vibrations of a pendulum by
its buoyancy, it also influences them by its resistance to
motion. The law of this resistance, like all the laws con¬
nected with the motion of fluid bodies, is very imperfectly
known; no method of analysis has been discovered which
can at all approach the difficulties of the subject; nor has
any glimpse yet been obtained of the internal arrangement
of the parts of fluids, so that we have not even a founda¬
tion on which to build a train of reasoning.
The resistance which the air presents to a moving body
is usually supposed to be proportional to the square of the
velocity, and also, with similar solids, to the extent of sur¬
face ; but there is some reason to believe that both propor¬
tions are only approximate. Even when assisted by this
supposition, the powers of the higher calculus fail in dis¬
covering what effect this resistance has on the going of a
clock. The equation of motion, when expressed in the no¬
tation of Leibnitz, takes the form
Sza p . /Sa\ 2
■s7s = Fsma-Q
which is not integrable by any known process.
Attempts have been made to overcome this difficulty by
assuming that the resistance is exceedingly small in com¬
parison with the tendency of the pendulum to descend along
the arc; and it has been shown that, in this case, the ex¬
tent, but not the time, of an oscillation is sensibly affected.
Yet all such demonstrations want conclusiveness, since the
result extracted may be only a disguised form of that as¬
sumption which has been arbitrarily made in order to bring Pendulum,
the matter apparently within the power of the calculus.
Although we cannot ascertain the precise effects of the
air’s resistance, we may, by a general view of the subject,
arrive at some useful conclusions.
On comparing the motion of a pendulum describing a large
arc QQ' (fig. 7), with
that of another of the
same dimensions os¬
cillating through the
smaller arc qq, we
perceive that, gene¬
rally speaking, the ve¬
locities of the two are
proportional to the ^
lengths of the arcs;
wherefore the inten¬
sities of the air’s re¬
sistance must be near¬
ly proportional to the
squares of those lengths. Now, the redressing tendencies
are proportional to the sines of the arcs ; wherefore it fol¬
lows that the air’s resistance bears a less proportion to the
redressing tendency in the case of the small arc than in
that of the large one, which forms another argument in
favour of a small arc of vibration.
While the intensity of the resistance is proportional to
the square of the length of the arc, the distance through
which it acts is proportional to that length, wherefore the
quantity of motion destroyed, or the loss of force, is propor¬
tional to the cube of the length. Now, if the pendulum,
after having been dropped from Q, rise only on the other
side to the distance OR, the loss of force is proportional to
the distance SR, by which R is low7er than Q; and there¬
fore, we have, approximately
SR : sr : : QR3 : qr ’.
Again, if we assume that the arcs Q'R, qr, are so small as
to be undistinguishable from their tangents, the trigons
Q'SR, q'sr are similar to Q'BA, qba; so that if the arcs
OQ, oq themselves be small,
Q'R :q'r:: OQ2 : oq2
approximately.
If, then, the oscillations of a pendulum be slowly arrested
by the air’s resistance alone, the successive amplitudes must
form a progression in which the differences are pioportional
to the squares of the terms ; that is, they must form a har¬
monic series, and the number of beats occurring between
the amplitudes OQ = A and oq=a, must be proportional
to the difference of the inverse powers of a and A, or to
. _ I. It has been erroneously asserted that the arcs
hould form a decreasing geometrical progression. In virtue
lerely of the air’s resistance, then, the pendulum would
ever be brought absolutely to rest. . .. ,
In addition to this resistance there is the friction on the
nife-edo-e, which is nearly constant. When the pendulum
5 inclined at the angle a, its pressure upon the support is
Y cos a, and therefore if/be the coefficient of friction
m- the particular knife-edge, the redressing tendency is
Y(sin a-/cos a); and if we put/=tan <p, <p being then
he angle of repose, or the minute angle through which the
lendulum may be drawn aside from the vertical position
• .....   voHirn. rlip rodressinn-tendencvbecomes
W (Cos <p sin a - sin <Z> cos a) = W sec <p . sin (a - <p).
From this it is apparent that each oscillation will be per¬
formed on either side of a line inclined to the vertical line
by the angle <p, so that the amplitude of the oscillations
will form “a decreasing arithmetical progression, of which
the common difference is 2 ®.
382
P E N I) U L U M.
Pendulum From the same expression it follows, that the time of an
oscillation will be reduced in the ratio of V cos to 1 ; or
that, in order to make it vibrate in true time, the pendulum
must be lengthened in the ratio of sec <p to unit.
In all practical cases, however, the angle q> is exceedingly
minute, so that its cosine and secant cannot differ from the
radius by any appreciable quantity; in other words, we
may hold that the friction on the knife-edge has no percep-.
tible influence on the time-keeping.
When both the air’s resistance and the friction act to¬
gether, the amplitudes must form a complex progression,
approaching more and more nearly to an arithmetical one
as the arcs become shorter.
A more serious cause of error in the determination of
the length of the pendulum, is to be found in the yielding¬
ness of the support. In our investigations, the point of
suspension has been supposed to be absolutely immoveable;
but there is no substance which does not yield to the pres¬
sure applied to it, and therefore, as the pendulum swings
from side to side, the point of suspension oscillates also;
and the whole framework becomes truly a part of the vi¬
brating mass.
Hence the propriety of securing the suspending plate to
a strong wall; and hence also the impropriety of the too
common practice of making the house-clock rest on the
bottom of its case.
When a pressure is applied to some point in an elastic
structure, the form of the structure is deranged, and the
point to which the pressure is applied is displaced ; but the
displacement is not necessarily in the direction of the pres¬
sure. Every elastic structure has, in reference to any given
point in it, three directions at right angles to each other, in
one of which the flexibility is a maximum, in a second a
minimum, and in the third a maximum or minimum. And
it is only when the pressure is applied in one of these three
directions that the displacement is in the direction of the
pressure. Hence, a general inquiry into the effect which the
flexibility of the support may have upon the motion of the
pendulum would be excessively complicated. In order to
simplify it, we shall assume that the three directions al¬
luded to are one vertical, one horizontal in the plane of the
oscillation, and the third also horizontal, but perpendicular
to the plane of oscillation; and this supposition is admis¬
sible, because of the symmetry of the parts.
The pressure, W cos a, which the knife-edge exerts
against the suspending plate may be decomposed into two
pressures, W cos a2 in a vertical, and W cos a sin a in a
horizontal direction ; so that if //, and m be the coefficients
of flexibility in those two directions, juW cos a2 will be the
depression, and wW cos a sin a the horizontal displace¬
ment of the point of suspension in virtue of this pressure.
But the point of suspension does not take up truly the
position indicated by these quantities, because the matter
of the framework has to be moved; and the motion im¬
parted to it forms part of the sum total. Yet, as the quan¬
tity of motion is measured by combining the square of the
velocity with the mass, and as the whole displacement is
microscopical, the quantity of motion in the framework must
be excessively minute, and we may assume that the above
expressions represent truly the position oi the support cor¬
responding to the inclination a.
The differentials of these are
/aW sin 2a . 8a, and niW cos 2a. 8a;
wherefore the motion of the centre of gravity of the pen¬
dulum is composed of three motions,—18a at an inclination
of a to the horizon, //W sin 2a . 8a upwards, and mjW cos
2a . 8a horizontally outwards; so that the square of its ac¬
tual motion is, neglecting those terms which contain the
squares of m and /jl,
[ZM 2AV (m cos a . cos 2a +/a sin a . sin 2a)} 8a2;
and therefore the differential equation of motion is
R2 + Z2 + 2IW (m cos a. cos 2a + ^ sin a . sin 2a
2gl (cos a — cos A)
and the integration of this expression would give the value
of the time t.
When the arc of vibration is minute, the length of a
simple pendulum vibrating in the same time becomes
_ R2 + /2 + 2lmW
Pendulum,
and therefore, if we wish to determine that value of l which
will produce a given time of oscillation, we must resolve the
quadratic equation
Z2 - (L - 2mW) l + R2=0.
Now, if Z and A. be the two roots of this equation, we must
have
l+\—'L-2m'W;
and thus the distance between the knife-edges of a re¬
versible pendulum is less than the true length of the simple
pendulum by 2wW, m being a coefficient depending on
the flexibility of the supports.
This equation suggests a method of discovering the
amount of this inaccuracy; for if two pendulums of different
weights be swung in succession from the same support, the
values of L deduced from them will differ by the quantity
2m (W - W'), and that difference will give the value of the
coefficient m.
We have all along supposed the parts of the pendulum to
be perfectly rigid, and have now to inquire whether the
flexibility of the rod be not another source of error. This
part of die subject has not received an adequate share of
attention ; and, indeed, the method employed by Borda for
determining the length of the pendulum seems to have
been contrived in neglect of the errors occasioned by the
flexibility of the parts.
In order to put this matter in a clear light, let us construct
a pendulum AXY (fig. 8), composed of a fine inflexible line
carrying weights X, Y, &c., at various dis¬
tances, AS being the length of the corre¬
sponding simple pendulum. Then, as this
system oscillates, the changes in the mo¬
tion of a particle placed at S are exactly
those which gravitation would induce on
that particle if suspended separately from
the point A ; the whole of its tendency
to descend along the arc is expended
in accelerating or retarding its motion.
But it is different with a particle placed at
X, above S: the actual motions of this particle
are less rapid than they would have been if
it were attached to A by a separate
thread, in the ratio of AX to AS; and there¬
fore only a part of the weight X, repre¬
sented byX.^^, is employed in accelerating or retarding
its motion, the remainder X.-v— being resisted by the
Fig. 8.
stiffness of the pendulum-rod. That is to say, the body X
tends to bend the pendulum-rod inwards bv a pressure
XS .
X
AS'
In the same way, a body placed at Y, below S, has its mo¬
tions made more rapid than they would have been if it were
separately suspended, and therefore it presses outwards on
YS
the rod with an intensity of Y . sin a.
Ao
It thus seems that the structure of the pendulum is sub¬
jected to variable internal strains, caused by the motions oi
PENDULUM.
383
Pendulum, its own parts, and that, unless it be so strong as to resist
\ ^ these strains without any appreciable change of form, its
oscillations cannot agree with those which have been de¬
duced on the supposition of perfect rigidity.
Borda’s method of determining the actual length of the se¬
conds pendulum was to suspend a ball of platinum by a fine
wire (fig-9), to measure the entire length from the knife-edge
to the lowest point of the ball, and thence to compute, by
help of the measured dimensions of the apparatus, the mean
distance of oscillation. In order to avoid the necessity of
measuring the dimensions of the knife-edge and its frame¬
work, Borda first adjusted these parts separately to oscil¬
late in the intended time, in order that they might exert
no perceptible influence on the motion of the ball. By
this ingenious device, the calculations w’ere much simplified,
as only the dimensions of the ball, the suspending cap, and
the wire, had to be taken into account.
But the whole arrangement is liable to
the objection, that the centre of the ball,
the point of attachment, and the knife-
edge, do not remain in one straight line
during the oscillation. A body suspended
in this way has two kinds of motion, which
may exist separately or conjoined. One
of these is a short-period vibration, in
which the centre of gravity remains nearly
at rest; the other is a swinging motion,
composed of two isochronous oscillations,—one of the wire
on the knife-edge, the other of the ball on the point of
attachment. The nature of this complex motion has not
been investigated : it indeed presents difficulties of a very
high order ; and until these difficulties be overcome, a de¬
gree of uncertainty must attach to all observations made
with this kind of pendidum.
Besides being flexible, the pendulum-rod is distensible.
Now, when suspended from the point A, the parts are
subjected to one set of strains ; when suspended from S, to
another. Unless, then, the rod be of such strength as to
resist these changes of strain without any appreciable
change of length, the measurement of the distance between
the knife-edges must give a result perceptibly erroneous.
These sources of error in the use of the convertible pen¬
dulum are inevitable ; there are others to be found in the
imperfections of the workmanship.
It is essential to have the plate on which the knife-
edge rests perfectly flat and accurately horizontal. I he
sustaining plate is usually made of agate ; yet there are few
minerals capable of taking a high polish and so ill adapted
for the purpose. The agate consists of layers of various
degrees of hardness; and when it is ground with emery
upon a brass surface, the hard parts are seen to project,
somewhat like the layers of planed pine-wood. On this
account, it is exceedingly difficult to obtain a surface on
agate truly flat. This substance has another bad quality,—•
that its structure is porous, and that contact with it rapidly
impairs a steel edge. A surface worked in rock-crystal or
Cairngorm tojiaz would be much preferable. The want
of flatness in the agate plate may account for the dis¬
placement of the knife-edge which has sometimes been
noticed.
The two knife-edges must be placed exactly parallel to
each other, and their plane must pass through the centre ol
gravity of the mass. In the accounts of experiments made
with the convertible pendulum, there is no notice of any
precautions which have been taken for the purpose of secur¬
ing the fulfilment of these conditions ; they seem to have
been left entirely to the care of the workmen. It is not
enough that, when one knife-edge is horizontal, and the
pendulum at rest, the other knife-edge also be horizon¬
tal ; it is of great importance that both be in the same ver¬
tical plane.
Every body has three principal axes passing through the Pendulum,
centre of gravity at right angles to each other, on which its
motion of rotation, with a given angular velocity, is maxi¬
mum or minimum ; and the amount of rotation on any other
axis varies according to its position in reference to these
three. On account of the symmetry of the parts in all
actual cases, one of the principal axes may be assumed as
lying along the length of the pendulum; one of the other
two being in the plane of oscillation, the third at right
angles to it.
The bob, or heavy part of the pendulum, is sometimes
made flat or lenticular, the rod and other parts partaking of
the same shape. In such case, the amount of rotation on
the axis parallel to the knife-edge is greater than on that
perpendicular to it, and any twist on the pendulum-rod
causes the rate of the clock to vary ; and, particularly when
the rod is of wood, this form of bob causes great irregu¬
larity. In order to avoid this source of error, and to ren¬
der innocuous any deviations of the knife-edges in azimuth,
the mass of the pendulum should be distributed uniformly
round its vertical axis, so as to render the amount of rota¬
tion constant for every horizontal axis passing through the
centre of gravity.
The convertible pendulum is not kept in motion by
machinery, like the pendulum of a clock, but having been
set in motion, is allowed gradually to come to rest; and as
it continues to oscillate for but a short while, the number of
oscillations which it would make per day has to be ascer¬
tained by comparing its movements with those of a clock
pendulum of which the x’ate is known.
In order to make this comparison, the convertible pendu¬
lum is erected in front of the clock, a telescope of low
power being fixed at a little distance. A distinct white mark
is made on the clock pendulum, of size sufficient to be just
hid from view by a part of the convertible pendulum when
both are at rest. If now the two pendulums were to oscil¬
late in the same direction, keeping true time with each
other, the white mark would be always concealed; but if,
as is purposely arranged, the one pendulum oscillate a little
more slowly than the other, they will gradually separate
from each other, and the white mark will become visible.
As the separation increases to become one beat, the pen¬
dulums pass each other in different directions, and the
mark is covered for too short a time to prevent its being
visible; but as the difference approaches to be two beats,
the motions again agree, and the spot is hid. I ms, y
noticing the successive instants of the complete disappear¬
ance of the mark, the observer can discover the difference
between the rates of the two pendulums with great pre-
On account, however, of the diminution of the amplitude,
the rate of the free pendulum slowly accelerates; and thus
the intervals between the successive disappearances are
unequal. Besides this, the velocities at the middles of the
ares^become different, and the disappearance is not com¬
plete ; the most favourable time for observation being when
the apparent velocities of the parts, as seen from the tele¬
scope are exactly equal to each other. It is thus a matter
of vel-y considerable1 difficulty to determine with precision
the ratio of the beat of the free pendulum to that of the
clock ; and, in addition, there is the error to which the rate
of the clock itself is subject. _
Besides all these sources of minute error, which are specia
to the subject, there is that which attends all attempts at
minute measurement, and which arises from therma expan-
sion. The comparison of the distance between the tw
knife-edges with the divisions on a standard scale, at a
given temperature, requires an accurate knowledge of the
rates of expansion of the two rods, and during the motion
0f tiie pendulum an account must be taken of the tempera¬
ture. Now, the thermometer only can give the temperature
384
PENDULUM.
Pendulum, of the surrounding air, which only agrees with that or the
pendulum wdien the changes are very slow ; and therefore
it is of the utmost importance, for the exactitude of the con¬
clusions, that all experiments be carried on in a place not
liable to fluctuations of temperature.
On reviewing all these sources of error, we need not be
surprised to find disagreements among the results obtained
by different observers, particularly when we consider that
the expressions for the lengths of the pendulum have been
carried to the ninth decimal place, that for the thousand-
millionth part of a metre. It is matter of astonishment to
find the results agree so well.
The determination of the length of the pendulum in
different latitudes throws a great light upon certain depart¬
ments of physical astronomy; and it is this circumstance
which gives importance to the present subject. Among
the experiments which have been recorded, there are many
close coincidences, and not a few discrepancies, in the last-
place figures. From these latter, attempts have been made
to estimate irregularities in the structure of the earth; while
from the former the amount of its oblateness is infened.
In this way, the pendulum becomes an important and valu¬
able instrument for astronomical research.
For the purpose of discovering the variation of gravity at
different parts of the earth’s surface, it is sufficient to com¬
pare the number of oscillations which a pendulum makes
per day at one place with the number which the same pen¬
dulum makes at another place : the intensities of gravita¬
tion at the two places are inversely as the square of these
numbers.
Whichever of these two pendulums may be used, the
trustworthiness of the result depends mainly upon the
means which are taken to compare the oscillations with the
length of the day. Though it be customary to use the
mean solar day as the standard, the comparisons are really
made with the sidereal day, that interval of time being, of
all others, the most susceptible of exact and ready mea¬
surement. Now, with a four-foot poi table tiansit instiu-
ment, the instant of the passage of a star over the meridian
can hardly be determined to within one-tenth part of a
second, the distance passed over by the image of an equa¬
torial star in that time being little more than the three-
thousandth of an inch upon the wires, and the position of
the instrument being liable to errors of collimation, of level¬
ling, and of azimuth. We cannot therefore venture to say
that the clock’s rate in a given day can be determined cer¬
tainly to within one-tenth part of a second, although the
comparisons have been made at an interval of twenty-foui
hours. Seeing, then, that the free pendulum is compared
with the clock only over a small fraction of the day, it is a
great deal to expect that its daily rate can be asceitained
to within one second of time.
A change of one second per day in the rate of a clock
corresponds to a change of ^jb^th in the length of the
pendulum, which is about T1b7th of an inch, or^d o a
millimetre; and therefore we may regard this distance as
indicating the probable limit of exactitude. .
From careful measurements made at the instance of the
British government, the length of the seconds pendulum
at London, and at the level of the sea, is 39T393 inches,
while the length of the decimal pendulum, obtained at Paris
with equal care, is '7419076 metre. Now, by discussions
on measurements made at various places, the length of the
pendulum is found to be
1 — *00275 cos 2 lat.,
according to some, and
1 - -00268 cos 2 lat.,
according to other investigators; and therefore we may
assume, with Vince, that
1 - -00270 cos 2 lat.
represents the length of the pendulum at any latitude, when Pendulum,
the pendulum at latitude 45° is taken as the unit.
According to this formula, the pendulums at Paris and
London should be in the ratio of 1-000360 to 1'000605.
Multiplying the length of the decimal pendulum by the
square of the fraction we obtain '9938534 for the
length of the common seconds pendulum at Paris, and
augmenting this in the above ratio, '9940967 metre tor
the length of the pendulum at London; wherefore the
ratio of the metre to the inch, as determined by help of the
pendulum, is 39T393 to '9940967, from which the length
of the metre comes out 39’37172 inches. Direct compa¬
rison has given 39'37079, and there is a discrepancy of very
nearly one-thousandth part of an inch.
Adopting the authorized value 39*1393 for the length of
the pendulum at London, and using Vince’s formula for
reduction, the length of the pendulum at 45° is 39T156
inches, and at any other latitude,
39T156 (1 -'0027 cos 2 lat.)
From this, by help of equation 10, we obtain the intensity
nf o-rnvitsifinn  -
386-05 (1 -'0027 cos 2 lat.),
as measured in English inches; that is to say, a heavy
body falls during the first second of time through 193
inches, or 16 feet 1 inch, in latitude 45°, and in a vacuum.
The determination of the oblateness of the earth from
observations on the length of the pendulum belongs to
physical astronomy. It is enough to remark here, that the
irregularities of two, three, or even five seconds per day
which occur among the observations, can scarcely support
a speculation on the irregularity of the earth s structure,
seeing that in the immediate vicinity of powerful stationary
transit instruments, and with every appliance and conve¬
nience for insuring precision, there has been a disagree¬
ment of a whole second.
ATTACHED PENDULUMS.
The great utility of the pendulum lies in its application to
time-keeping. This part of the subject has already been
adverted to under the head Clock-Work ; in the present
place, we shall consider a little more in detail the abstract
principles which are involved.
As has been stated, clock pendulums are never suspended
on knife-edges ; they are hung by means of thin flat springs.
The elasticity of these, and the form which they take on
being bent, cause a deviation from the circular motion, the
effect of which has not been rigorously investigated, but
which evidently tends toward the condition ot cycloidal
motion; so that the errors caused by changes in the am¬
plitudes must be less than in the case of the knife-edge
suspension.
The wheel-work of the clock performs the double func¬
tion of recording the number of oscillations and ol main¬
taining the motion ; and the perfection ot its action re¬
quires that it never miss count, and that it preserve a
constant amplitude. Now, nothing short of perfect work¬
manship can secure the attainment of the latter condition ;
and therefore the primary object in contriving the parts
of the movement is to arrange them so that a variation in
the maintaining power may produce no perceptible change
in the daily rate, for which purpose the natural motion of
the pendulum must be interfered with as little as possible.
The progress of the wheels cannot be continuous, for
then the extent of the oscillation would depend on the di¬
mensions of the parts : the wheel-work must then move by
steps; and therefore its action must consist of three dis¬
tinct parts,—viz., the detention, the release, and the im¬
pulse. The apparatus for accomplishing these three ac¬
tions constitute what is called an escapement.
PENDULUM.
385
Pendulum. some escapements the detention is effected by allovv-
v , j ing a tooth to rest upon some part of the pendulum; in
such cases the detaining surface must be exactly or nearly
concentric with the motion of the pendulum ; if it be truly
concentric, the wheels remain perfectly stationary during
the detention, and the escapement is called dead-beat; but
if, as in the earlier clocks, the detaining surface be inclined,
the wheels move backwards and forwards during the deten¬
tion, and the escapement is called recoil. The recoil es¬
capement is so obviously faulty that one is puzzled to account
for its having remained so long in use, particularly when
we reflect that a very slight change in the form of the
parts converts it into a dead-beat.
In these escapements the release is effected by allowing
the tooth to slip off one end of the detaining surface. In
the case of the simple dead-beat the end of the detent is
sloped a little from the radial direction, in order that the
tooth in descending along it may give the impulse ; or the
tooth itself is so shaped that it may produce the same effect.
When the impulse has been given, another detaining sur-
face has come into such a position as to oppose the motion
' of another tooth, and the blow produced by this contact
beats the second. For counting, this kind of escapement is
decidedly the best.
In the duplex escapement, when the long tooth slips off
the detent, the wheel turns rapidly through a distance which
the clockmaker arranges to be as small as possible, until
the impulse-tooth fall upon, or rather overtake, the pallet;
this produces a slight sound. When the impulse has been
given, the impulse-tooth is relieved from the pallet, and the
escape-wheel turns rapidly, but again only through a small
distance, until the alternate detent stop the next long tooth.
This last action is accompanied by a more distinct beat, in¬
dicating the second ; but the astronomer, unless placed at
such a distance as not to hear the preceding slight sound,
finds it more difficult to estimate the fractions of a second
with this than with the former escapement.
For the purpose of avoiding entirely the rubbing during
the detention, a separate detent is provided, on which the
tooth may fall. This detent and the wheel-work remain
stationary until the release be effected by some part of the
pendulum coming in contact with and lifting the detent, so
as to permit the impulse to be given : escapements of this
class are called detached. The now very common detached
lever and the chronometer escapements are characteristic
though dissimilar examples of this class. Because of the
number of abrupt actions, each accompanied by a slight
sound, neither of them is well adapted for minute observa¬
tions, unless the ear be so far removed as not to catch the
lesser sounds.
In discussing the comparative merits of different kinds
of escapements, it would be tedious to enter into the
peculiarities of their construction ; it will be enough to
examine their actions under the general heads of detention,
release, and impulse.
In the common dead-beat, and also in the duplex es¬
capement, the friction of the detained tooth upon the cir¬
cular arc is nearly constant; but the influence of a con¬
stant friction upon the motion of a pendulum has not been
strictly investigated; so that we have nothing better than
approximation to guide us. It can easily be shown that a
constant friction acting upon the balance of a watch, in
which the redressing tendency is proportional to the dis¬
tance from the point of rest, produces no change in the
time of the oscillation, and only displaces, first to one side
and then to the other, the middle of the arc ; and we have
shown above that a friction varying as the cosine of the
obliquity produces both a displacement of the arc and an
imperceptible acceleration on the pendulum ; wherefore we
may conclude that, with a small arc of oscillation, the effect
of friction on the clock’s rate must be very trifling. The
VOL. XVII.
most serious effect is, the diminution of the amplitude, Pendulum,
which necessitates a more powerful impulse. In respect of
this, the duplex is decidedly preferable to the simple dead¬
beat ; but the detached escapements have the advantage
over both, since they occasion no friction at all.
The release in the dead-beat and duplex escapements is
merely the end of the detention; the tooth slips off the
detaining arc. But in detached escapements the release is
a distinct action ; the detent has to be removed from before
the tooth. In the chronometer escapement the detent is
kept in its place by a spring, which must be bent back¬
wards when the detent is raised, thus causing a retardation
through a small part of the arc. The comparative value of
the two classes of escapements must depend to some extent
on whether this resistance of the detent or the friction on
the pallet be most injurious to the time-keeping. The
watchmaker gives a motion as extensive as possible to the
balance, while the clockmaker’s aim is to render the arc
as small as he can ; and thus the advantages of the detached
escapement are greater in watch than in clock work.
When the release has been accomplished, the wheels are
impelled forward, but not instantaneously. They acquire
velocity gradually, until arrested by the stroke of the im¬
pulse-tooth upon the pallet.
In a common dead-beat escapement, let A (fig. 10) be
the axis of the crutch, C that
of the escape-wheel, and T
the tooth, which, having been
detained upon the surface EF,
is just released by the motion
of the pendulum towards the
right. The pallet continues
its motion, and the tooth begins
to descend according to the
ordinary law, its distances
being proportional to the
squares of the elapsed times.
In consequence of these two
motions, T would trace upon
a surface attached to the crutch
a paraboloid curve FG, tan¬
gent to the arc EF at F ; and
if the end of the pallet were
exactly shaped to this curve,
the tooth would merely graze it
When the end of the pallet is bevelled, as FH, making a
sharp corner at F, the tooth falls behind at first, gams
speed, and overtakes the pallet at I; so that the impulse is
only given from I to H. Although the interval FI be so
small as to escape observation, it is not the less real, and
its tendency is to cause a slight uncertainty in the action,
it ought always to be obviated by rounding a 1 ^ ^
corners of the ruby. It is completely removed in those
escapements which have the tooth 1 part of a cylinder. <
But this interval exists unavoidably in the duplex and in
the detached escapement. Its extent m all cases is aug¬
mented by an increase in the weight of the escape-whee ,
for which ^reason that wheel ought to be made as light as
is consistent with accuracy and permanency of form.
The great derangement of the time-keeping is from tie
imnulser Friction, imperfect elasticity and the airs re¬
sistance, are injurious chiefly because they render an im¬
pulse necessary ; and the important matter in contriving an
escapement is to place the arc of impulse so as not to in¬
fluence the time of the oscillation. . . ,
The effect of the impulse can be strictly investigated
when the redressing tendency is proportional to jbe <le-
rano-ement; and it can be shown (Edin. New Phil. Jour.
for 0July 1835) that the proper time for the impulse is
nearly at the middle of the oscillation; but when, as in the
3 c
Fig. ia
without communicating
386
PENDULUM.
Pendulum, case of the pendulum, the redressing tendency is propor-
^ tional to the sine of the inclination, the inquiry transcends
the power of the calculus. We may, however, satisfy our¬
selves that the impulse ought to be given when the pen¬
dulum is near its lowest point by considerations which do
not require any elaborate formulae.
The impulse is to restore the motion that has been lost
by friction and the air’s resistance ; and therefore the pro¬
duct of the impelling pressure, by the distance through
which it acts, must be equal to that of the resistance by its
distance. Its effect upon the pendulum is to augment the
square of the velocity by a certain quantity, and to shorten
the time in which the arc of impulse is passed over. If V
be the velocity which the pendulum would have had at the
end of the arc of impulse if let alone, and V' the velocity
which it has after having received the impulse, we have
V2 — V2 = I, or (V' + V) (V' — V) = Vi. When the impulse
is given near the middle of the arc, V' + V is large, and
therefore V' - V small; but when it is given near the limit
of the motion, V' + V is small, and therefore V' — V propor¬
tionally great. Now i being the extent of the arc of im¬
pact, is the time during which it would have been de-
scribed with the velocity V, and y-, that with the velocity
is proportional, approximately, to the
V'; hence -y —
direct influence of the impulse upon the time of an oscilla-
y' _ y
tion. This may be put under the form i yy~ 5 and it is
to be observed of this fraction that its numerator is in-
versely proportional to V' + V, whence yy^y ^ repre_
sents the error in time-keeping caused by the impact.
From this we conclude, that when the change V' - V
is not great, the error caused by the impulse is inversely
as the cube of the velocity of the pendulum at the time
of receiving it; and also that the shorter the arc, the
pressure being proportionally augmented, the less the de¬
rangement is.
Now, neither the detached escapement nor the duplex
can be used with a very small arc of impulse, as the risk
of missing would be great; while the simple dead-beat can
have that arc reduced by an alteration on the forms of the
tooth and pallet; so that, considering its smooth, quiet
action, and the facility which it gives for reducing the direct
error of the impulse, we need not wonder that it is regarded
as, practically, the best escapement.
REMONTOIRES.
As the maintaining power is communicated to the pallets
through a long train of wheels, it is liable to periodical
variations from malformation of the teeth, and to more per¬
manent changes from dust, and from the thickening of the
oil. Also in spring time-keepers the form of the fusee does
not compensate perfectly for the varying tension of the
mainspring. Hence the utility of what are called remon-
toires, or re-winders.
This name is given to various arrangements by which a
small weight or slender spring, as the case may be, is
wound to a determinate height at short intervals of time,
this weight or spring becoming virtually the maintaining
power. If the remontoire be made to act every minute,
the seconds hand proceeds as usual, but the minute and
hour hands spring forward by one minute at a time. The
periodical inequalities are in this case repeated every minute,
and cannot accumulate to become perceptible ; while, as all
the parts above the remontoire can be highly finished or
jewelled, the variations of friction are little felt.
When the re-winding occurs every second, the arrange¬
ment becomes what is known under the name of the gravity Pendulum.
escapement. In the greater number of gravity escapements
the impulse weight is held by the clock-work at a fixed
height until the pendulum relieve it and carry it to the ex¬
tremity of the oscillation. During this part of the action
the weight retards the motion; but when the pendulum
begins to descend, the weight descends also, and as it is not
arrested till it has reached a point lower than that from
which it started, it accelerates more than it retards the
pendulum. When the impulse-weight has reached its
lowest point, the detent is unlocked, and the wheel-work
raises the weight to its first place, there to await the pen¬
dulum.
In electric clocks, galvanic contact is made or broken at
the proper instant, and the impulse-weight is lifted by the
electro-magnet.
These escapements are essentially recoil escapements,
and have all the defects which are inseparable from the
class. An extraneous influence cannot be brought to bear
on the pendulum at a worse place than at the extremity of
the motion, where the velocity is zero. And seeing that,
for good time-keeping, the arc of impulse must be very
short, it cannot but be detrimental to lengthen it out over
a half oscillation. These escapements, in fact, are in direct
opposition to the principles which have just been explained.
METRONOME PENDULUMS.
We have seen that the length of simple pendulums vi¬
brating in different times are proportional to the squares of
those times, and that these lengths are fixed by the in¬
tensity of gravitation ; thus a simple pendulum vibrating
once a second must be about 39 inches long.
But it does not follow that a compound
pendulum must have this length.
For the purpose of marking time, musi¬
cians employ an instrument called a metro¬
nome (fig. 11), of which the principal part is
a small pendulum capable of being regu¬
lated to suit the character of the opera, B
being the principal weight of this pendulum,
and A the axis of motion, the rod BA is
prolonged above the fulcrum, and on the
prolongation AD an adjusting weight C is
made to slide ; divisions also are engraved
and numbered on AD, to indicate the num¬
ber of beats which the pendulum makes per
minute.
If »»!, m2, w3, &c., represent the masses of
which a pendulum is made up, rv r2, r3, &c., F1?-11-
their distances from the axis of motion, and if AG be the
distance of the centre of gravity from that axis,—
mlrl2+ m2r2 + m.jr2 + &c.
AG (ml + m.2 + w3 + &c.)
expresses the length of the simple pendulum vibrating in
the same time.
Now, by raising the weight C, we augment the nume¬
rator of this fraction, and at the same time lessen the de¬
nominator, since the centre of gravity is also raised, so that
we lengthen the time of the oscillation. If C were raised
so high as to bring the centre of gravity up to A, the
mean distance of oscillation would become infinite ; so that
there is no degree of slowness that cannot be attained by
this arrangement.
If M be the weight of the permanent part of the me¬
tronome pendulum, including the axis and pallets, R its
mean distance of gyration round the axis, and l the distance
of its centre of gravity, then
MR2
L°~ JVM
PENDULUM.
387
Pendulum, is the mean distance of oscillation of the unloaded metro-
 1 nome. And if m be the weight of the sliding-piece, p its
mean distance of gyration round an axis passing through its
own centre of gravity parallel to the axis of the pendulum,
and X the distance of its centre of gravity above that axis,
^ MR2 + wp2 + »*A.2
L~ MY - mX
is the mean distance of oscillation of the loaded metro¬
nome. The weights M and m can be determined di¬
rectly, and the length Ln can be obtained by observing the
oscillations of the pendulum when unloaded, using the
equation x 39.1393;
by this means we can eliminate MR2, and the equation
—L- /^l0 + p2>\ =A2-LX
m \m J
expresses the relation between L and A. In this there re¬
main still the quantities l and p to be determined by ex¬
periment. By placing the weight C at three different posi¬
tions on the stem, and observing the times of oscillation,
these quantities l and p can be found, and thence the gra¬
duation of the instrument.
However, as the matter does not call for extreme pre¬
cision, the ordinary method of finding by trial three or
four points on the scale, and then graduating between, is
sufficient for the purpose.
COMPENSATION PENDULUMS.
The expansions and contractions of the pendulum-rod,
consequent on changes of temperature, are sources of great
irregularity in the going of clocks. Thus, iron wire ex¬
pands, according to M. Biot, ^Eth from freezing to boiling
water, and therefore this change of temperature would
cause an alteration of 53 seconds in the daily rate ; that is,
very nearly 3 seconds for every 10 degrees of Fahren¬
heit’s thermometer. A piece of white deal expands only
about the third part as much as iron ; and hence the irregu¬
larity of a pendulum with a deal rod is only about 1 second
per day for a change of 10 degrees Fahrenheit. A well-
made clock, with a deal-rod pendulum, is sufficiently accu¬
rate for the ordinary purposes of life; but where great
nicety is required, means are taken to correct the effects of
expansion.
As this part of the subject has already been adverted to
under the head Clock-Work, it is enough, here, to indicate
the general features of the investigation.
A very simple and inexpensive compensation pendulum
may be made of a cylindric deal rod carrying a long
leaden cylinder; and if the rod be composed of
several slips, well glued together, and thoroughly
varnished, to prevent the effects of the moisture,
there is perhaps no pendulum yet contrived which
will keep better time.
The strict investigation into the effects of a
change of temperature upon a clock furnished with
such a pendulum would take into account—
The weight, form, and expansion of the crutch and
its appendages, since these form an essential part
of the oscillating mass; 2d, The expansion and
change of stiffness of the slender steel spring AB
(fig. 12) ; 3d, The expansion, lateral as well as longi¬
tudinal, of the deal rod BC ; and, lastly. The ex¬
pansion of the perforated leaden bob CD, and the
thermal compensation, will be effected when the
various dimensions are arranged; so that the nu¬
merator and denominator of the fraction
w
c
Fig. 12.
2 . mr1
AG.
receive proportional augmentations on an increase of tem¬
perature. Now it is evident that the square of the tern- Pendulum,
perature will be found in the new numerator, while only
its first power can enter into the denominator; and thus
we see that no compensation can be perfect for every
change of temperature. However, as the expansions are
all minute, the second powers of the fractions which repre¬
sent them may be neglected without causing any appre¬
ciable error.
There is a great uncertainty as to the rates of expansion
of different bodies, arising partly from the difficulty of mak¬
ing the measurements, and partly from irregularities among
different specimens of the same substances. On this ac¬
count, it would be a waste of labour to compute the condi¬
tions of compensation strictly—the more so, that the fine
adjustment must be made by trial; we shall content ourselves
with an analysis on the supposition that the parts are merely
linear, and that the pendulum is swung from a knife-edge.
If ml and m2 be the weight of the deal rod AC, and of
the leaden bob CD, the mean distance of oscillation is
. AC2 + m2(AC2 + AC. AD + AD2)
® . AC+ /ra2 (AC + AD)
for the temperature at which the measurements are made ;
and if e2 be the rates of expansion for one degree, while
AC and CD are denoted by H and h, the condition of
compensation is expressed by the equation
mfi1 + m2 (3H2 — 3HA + h2)
mjH + m2(2H —h)
_m, (2H2e,) + m2 (6H2e, — 3HA (e, + e2) + 2A2e2)
ml (Hcj) + m2 (2H.el - he2)
Again, if we suppose that the weight m1 of the rod is
insignificant in comparison with the equation becomes
much simpler, and reduces itself to the form
eft - (4e2 + eJHh2 + {3e2 + Qe^Wh -6e1H3 = 0 ;
so that, even in this most simple case, the determination of the
ratio of A to H requires the resolution of a cubic equation.
Supposing that for deal an^ ^or ^eac^ e2
= ^, we have : e2:; 7 : 48, and the equation becomes
48A3 — 199A2H +186/iH2 - 42H3=0;
whence very nearly H = 3^; that is, the column of lead
must be one-third part as long as the deal-rod ; and for
a seconds pendulum the whole length must be about 4o 3o
inches; the leaden bob being 15*45 long.
atmospheric influence.
The effect of the buoyancy of the air upon the going of
clock is considerable: thus lead 1S about 9000 times
;avier than air of the same volume, and therefore a change
one inch in the barometer will alter the appaient weight
• the leaden bob by one part in 270,000 which co^esponds
an alteration in the daily rate of the clock of ^ths of a
cond, or rather more than one second per week; and as
e whole of the pendulum is not made of such weigl y
aterials, the actual derangement must be somewhat more
an this It is thus impossible, in a climate so variable as
frs, to construct a clock that shall keep true astronomica
ue, unless it be cased and protected entirely from changes
the buoyancy of the air, or unless some means be fallen
ion to compensate for atmospheric changes.
In the delicate operation of determining the apparent
rht ascension of a star or planet, the time of transit over
e wires of the telescope is sought to within a sma 1 frac-
3n as the twentieth or fiftieth part of a second We must
> able, therefore, to depend on the going of the clock
om one observation of a standard star till another within
iis deoree of precision, otherwise the care bestowed on
ie collimation of the instrument is thrown away. Now a
se of half an inch in the barometer will, m twelve hours,
•oduce a retardation of ^th of a second; so that, if an
388
PENDULUM.
Pendulum, astronomer aim at precision in his observations, he must be
able to make allowance for the effect of the air’s buoyancy
on the going of his clock.
By carefully collating the observed variations in the
clock with the indications of the thermometer and barome¬
ter, an empirical formula may be constructed, by means of
which the error may be computed up to any given time.
When steel or iron rods enter into the composition of
the pendulum, an error of another kind is induced. The rod,
particularly in latitudes where the needle dips much, be¬
comes magnetic, and is then influenced by the earth’s
magnetism. The amount of this influence increases until
the maximum magnetism is induced ; and thus newly-made
clocks which have steel and mercury compensation pendu¬
lums are liable to show an acceleration of rate for a consider¬
able time after they are set up; they are also liable to
changes of rate depending on variations in the intensity of
the earth’s magnetism.
CONICAL PENDULUM.
. When a pendulum, instead of being hung on an axis
which restricts its motion to one plane, is hung on a point
merely, its movements are much more complex. Laplace
has partially investigated the Case of a single material point
suspended by means of an imponderable thread; but the
general subject has hardly yet been inquired into.
If the motion of a simple pendulum be restricted to a
very minute distance from the point of rest, it describes
almost exactly an ellipse; but whenever the amplitudes
become perceptible, the major axis of the curve turns in
space so as to imitate in some respects the motion of the
line of apsides of a planet. When, however, the pendulum
is compound, a much more intricate movement takes place.
To illustrate the nature of this complex motion, let us
suppose that a pendulum of irregular shape is swung from
a Hooke’s universal joint, the two axes of which are parallel
to the horizontal axes of greatest and least rotation. Then
if the pendulum be drawn aside in the direction of one
axis, and let go, it will continue to oscillate on the other
axis; but the times of the oscillation on these axes will
not be the same : let us represent them by T and t. If
now the pendulum be drawn aside in a direction not parallel
to either axis, both oscillations will go on conjointly. The
determination of the complex motion thus induced is too
difficult for the calculus in its present state; if, however,
we restrict the amplitudes to be exceedingly minute, the form
of the curve may be obtained by the following process:—
Assume O (fig. 13) as the central position, AOa, B06 as
the extents of the os¬
cillations parallel to
the two axes, then the
rectangle CDcrf cir¬
cumscribes the curve.
On cD and DC de¬
scribe two semicir¬
cles, ami divide each of
them into equal parts,
the numbers being pro¬
portional to the times
T and t (the ratio as¬
sumed in the adjoining
fig. is 5 :3), and through
the points of section
draw lines parallel to
the sides of the rectan¬
gle. Then, beginning F'S* 13>
at any of the crossings, let a curve be traced diagonally
through the adjoining meshes; this line represents the path
of the pendulum. It is of the same nature with the curves
described by the free extremity of a straight wire held
firmly by the other end.
If the periodic times of the oscillations be nearly alike, Pendulum,
the curve assumes the appearance of an ellipse, of wdiich
the major axis oscillates between the diagonals Cc and Dd,
and which collapses into a straight line in each of them.
When, however, the amplitudes are considerable, ibis me¬
thod fails to give a correct representation of the movement.
If the suspension could be by means of a thread offer¬
ing no resistance to torsion, the motions of an irregular
mass would be still more complex ; and when the cord
resists torsion, an oscillatory-rotatory motion is superadded,
and the complexity becomes enormous.
One species of conical pendulum deserves attention as
being used for regulating the speed of steam-engines and
water-wheels. In it the pendulum is hinged on a hori¬
zontal axis, which is caused to revolve round a vertical
one, and the effect of the motion is to throw the pendu¬
lum aside from the vertical position. If there were no
friction on the hinge, the rotatory motion would be com¬
bined with an oscillatory motion on the horizontal axis ;
but in the actual apparatus, the friction and other resist¬
ances destroy the oscillation, while the rotation is kept up
by the machinery; and, on this account, the only object
of interest is to determine the degree of inclination which
belongs to a given speed.
Let AB (fig 14) be the vertical axis of a governor, C and
C the hinges, G and
G’ the centre of gra¬
vity of the two pen¬
dulums ; then having
drawn GD perpen¬
dicular to AB, GD is
the radius of the cir¬
cle described by G,
and therefore, if T
be the time of a
47r2 DG
rotation, m — -77^
g i2
is the centrifugal
tendency in the di¬
rection DG; and the
resultant obtained by
combining this with
m in a vertical direction must lie along CG ; wherefore,
having produced GC to meet AB in E—
47t2 DG DG _
= ED J
IB
Fig. 14.
tan DAC =
9
9
whence ED = —^T2.
If we notice that in reckoning the oscillations of a pen¬
dulum we counted from one side to another, whereas a com¬
plete oscillation requires a return to the same place, we
shall see that the height DE of the conical pendulum
is equal to the length of a simple pendulum oscillating
along with it.
foucault’s experiment.
When a round body, suspended by means of a flexible
thread, is once set to oscillate in a plane, it continues to
move in that plane. M. Foucault has taken advantage of
this property in order to demonstrate the diurnal rotation of
the earth. If the earth were at rest, the direction of the
vibrations would remain, and would appear to remain, fixed ;
but as the earth turns while the plane of oscillation preserves
its parallelism, that plane appears, in reference to surround¬
ing objects, to turn in the direction of the apparent motion
of the stars.
In repeating this beautiful experiment, care must be taken
that the weight be symmetric in shape, and that no bias be
given at the outset, lest some of the complex movements
above mentioned be induced. (e. s.)
PEN
PENEDO, a town and district of Brazil, in the province
of Alagoas, on the left bank of the Sao Francisco, 60 miles
S.W. of Alagoas. The town is large and well built, partly
on the bank of the river, and partly on the slope of a hill.
It contains several churches and schools, a town-hall, and
a Franciscan convent. The adjacent country produces in
abundance cotton, rice, pulse, millet, and mandioc. Pop.
of the district, 14,000.
PENELOPE, the wife of Ulysses, and mother of Tele-
machus, was famous for her conjugal constancy. During
the long absence of her husband, numerous suitors sought
in vain to win her hand. She constantly put them off
by declaring that she must finish the shroud which she
was then weaving before she could listen to their proposals.
At the same time, she continued to undo during the night
that part of the woof which she had done during the day.
This stratagem kept them at bay until the arrival of
Ulysses.
PENIG, a town of Saxony, circle of Leipsic, on the
right bank of the Mulda, 35 miles S.S.E. of Leipsic. It
contains a Gothic church built chiefly of porphyry, two
ducal castles, a court of law, bleachworks, and cotton, silk,
and paper manufactories. Pop. 4817.
PENINSULA (pe?ie, almost, insula, an island) is a
portion of land almost surrounded by water.
PENI TENCE, or Penance, is one of the seven sacra¬
ments of the Church of Rome. Penitence is sometimes
used for a state of repentance, and sometimes for the act
of repenting. It gives title, besides, to several religious
orders, consisting either of converted debauchees and re¬
formed prostitutes, or of persons who devote themselves
to the office of reclaiming them. Of this latter kind is
the Order of Penitence of St Magdalen, established about
the year 1272 by one Bernard, a citizen of Marseilles,
who devoted himself to the work of converting the cour¬
tezans of that city. Bernard was seconded by several
others, who, having formed a kind of society, were at
length erected into a religious order by Pope Nicholas
III. under the rule of St Augustin. F. Gesnay says
they also constituted a religious order of the penitents, or
women they converted, giving them the same rules and
observances which they themselves followed. I he “ Con¬
gregation of Penitents” at Paris was founded with a
similar view.
PENKRIDGE, a market-town of England, in the county
of Stafford, on the Penk, an affluent of the I rent, here
crossed by a stone bridge, 5£ miles S. of Stafford, and 131
N.W. of London. It consists of two principal streets,
uniting near the bridge; and contains a parish church with
a square tower, places of worship belonging to Methodists
and Independents, and a national school. Ihe lower part
of the town is subject to inundations of the river. I here
are 3 annual fairs; and yearly races are held in September.
Pop. (1851) 2663.
PENN, William, founder of the state of Pennsylva¬
nia, and the most accomjdished Englishman that ever joined
the Society of Friends or Quakers, was a native of London,
born October 13, 1644. He was the eldest son of a brave
naval officer, one of the sea-captains of the Commonwealth,
who, after the Restoration, rose to the rank of admiral, was
knighted by Charles II., and appointed a commissioner of
the navy. In the flag-ship of the Duke of York, Admiral
Penn held the post of “ Great Captain Commander, and
was with his royal highness in the decisive victory over
the Dutch off Harwich in 1665. An intimacy was thus
formed between the prince and the admiral which had an
important influence on the fortunes and character of the
admiral’s son, the Quaker preacher and legislator. In his
fifteenth year William Penn was entered a gentleman com¬
moner of Christ Church, Oxford. Polemical controveisy
and religious fervour, under various forms, then agitated
PEN
the country ; the university partook of the excitement, and
Penn joined the serious or puritanical class of students who ^
waged war against the surplice and high church ceremo¬
nial patronized by the court. He attended the preaching
of a Quaker named Thomas Loe, neglected the college
rules and discipline, and was fined : he became still more
contumacious, and was expelled. Admiral Penn, a worldly,
ambitious man, who looked forward to a peerage, was inex¬
pressibly chagrined and mortified by this strange conduct
on the part of his son and heir. He adopted, however, a
mild and judicious mode of treatment; he sent the young
Nonconformist abroad in company with some friends, to
make the tour of France and Italy. The experiment was
completely successful. Withdrawn from the Oxford influ¬
ences, William Penn became the fine gentleman and man
of the world. He remained abroad two years, and on his
return to England, was introduced to the court, where his
polished manners and handsome appearance soon rendered
him a favourite. In order to fit him for public life, his
father entered him as a student of Lincoln’s Inn, and em¬
ployed him also on his own private affairs. In June 1665
the plague broke out in London. That awful visitation,
which carried terror to every heart and struck down thou¬
sands in the capital, revived all William Penn’s serious and
self-abasing impressions. He abandoned the licentious
court, left off visiting the gay circles that swarmed around
“ the merry monarch, scandalous and poor,” and, shutting
himself up, took to the study of controversial and practical
divinity. His father saw that it was again time to inter¬
fere. He had property in Ireland, a valuable barony in the
county of Cork, which had been granted by the king in
exchange for an estate bestowed on the admiral by Crom¬
well. The new grant was disputed by local claimants,
lawsuits were instituted, and negotiations were necessary to
settle the matter. William Penn had already shown his
aptitude for business, and his father despatched him to Ire¬
land, recommending him in an especial manner, by intio-
ductory letters, to the care of the Duke of Ormond, then
viceroy of Ireland. At the court at Dublin Penn was a
welcome visitor; and an insurrection breaking out at this
time among the military at Carrickfergus, he served for a
short period as a volunteer. In his capacity of soldier
Penn displayed so much coolness and bravery that he was
offered the command of a company. For a moment visions
of military glory seem to have dazzled the future apostle of
peace ; but his father, not dreaming of another relapse to
the Quaker rule, and sensible of the value of the service*
rendered to his family by his son s management of the Irish
estate, opposed himself to this intended military destina¬
tion A^risis was at hand. William Penn happened to
visit Cork; Thomas Loe was there on a Quakei minion,
and curiosity led Penn one day to attend the preaching of
his former Oxford acquaintance. The circumstance was
decisive. All his former enthusiasm came back upon him
with augmented force; he joined the hated and despised
sect • and shortly afterwards was, with the rest of the con-
Lrreo-ation sent to prison on the usual charge o no an
tumultuous assembling. His friends at the v.ceregal court
nrocured his release, and the admiral sent fur him home.
The meeting must have been a painfu one on both sides.
To thTra-e and expostulations of his father the neophyte
loosed calm answers and subtle arguments. He got a
short time to deliberate—retired, prayed, and was immove-
abfo in his resolution to adhere to the new doctrines. His
father turned him out of doors ! Ihe die was now cast,
Penn was elevated to a sort of martyrdom and he seems
to have exulted in his emancipation from all worldly com¬
promise and restraint. He set himself vigorously to prose¬
cute what he conceived to be his Divine mission. His
father after a few months’ absence, permitted him to re¬
turn home, but would not see him ; and we may conceive
389
Penn.
390 P E
Penn, the astonishment and disgust with which the courtly admiral
read the title-page of his son’s first exposition or defence of
Quakerism—a work thus set forth as a flag of defiance to
all gainsayers:—
“ Tkuth Exalted, in a short but sure Testimony against all
those Faiths and Worships that have been formed and followed in
the darkness of Apostacy ; and for that Glorious Light which is
now risen and shines forth in the life and doctrine of the despised
Quakers, as the alone good old way of Life and Salvation. Pre¬
sented to Princes, Priests, and People, that they may repent, be¬
lieve, and obey. By William Penn, whom Divine Love con¬
strains in an holy contempt to trample on ^Egypt’s glory—not fear¬
ing the King’s wrath, having beheld the Majesty of Him who is
Invisible.”
This work appeared in 1668, in William Penn’s twenty-
fourth year. It is a crude, fanatical, acrimonious produc¬
tion, directed against all sects except that of the Quakers,
and against all those “ idolatrous, superstitious, carnal,
proud, wanton, unclean, mocking, and persecuting princes,
priests, and people” who should “go on to rebel against
the reproofs and instructions of this holy light.” Another
work published by Penn the same year, entitled The Sandy
Foundation Shaken, is less wildly vehement and more ar¬
gumentative. It attracted a good deal of attention, and
replies to it, he says, were thundered forth in books and
from the pulpit. This notoriety led to a consummation
very common in those persecuting times—a false charge of
sedition was trumped up against Penn, and he was com¬
mitted to the Tower. He was confined for eight months,
the patient victim of intolerance ; and he occupied himself
by writing a more elaborate exposition of his doctrines and
belief, which he entitled No Cross no Crown. This is the
best of his theological treatises, and was the most popular.
He enforces with great earnestness and ability (quoting
largely from Scripture) the leading Quaker tenet, that to
do well with constancy and bear ill with fortitude is the
only way to attain lasting happiness ; and he adds a series
of “testimonies” drawn from the lives and writings of emi¬
nent men, ancient and modern. These selections evince
considerable reading and research, and in subsequent edi¬
tions he enlarged the number. It is worthy of remark,
that though he praises the wit and morality of Cowley, he
nowhere alludes to his great contemporary Milton, who
was not only conspicuous for his advocacy of religious
freedom, but was even suspected of a leaning towards
Quakerism. Some doctrines or opinions of the Quakers
Milton undoubtedly held ; but his bold speculations and
majestic genius were both above the range of the ordinary
sectaries of his day. If known at all to men like Penn, he
must have been regarded rather with fear and wonder than
with confidence or admiration. The blind poet and patriot
held aloof from all sects and “dwelt apartbut in one in¬
stance at least tidings of Penn must have reached Milton
in his small house in the Artillery Walk, and drawn from
him, and from his friends Andrew Marvell and Cyriack
Skinner expressions of warm sympathy and hearty appro¬
bation. The Conventicle Act prohibiting dissenters meet¬
ings was renewed in the spring of 1670. William Penn
was one day found addressing a crowd in the street, and,
along with another Quaker named Mead, was taken up and
committed to Newgate. They were tried at the next Old
Bailey sessions before the mayor, recorder, aldermen, and
sheriffs, and the trial was marked by all the coarse and
brutal insolence which unrestrained power generates in
vulgar minds. Penn, however, vindicated the principles of
English freedom and. the rights of conscience with admir¬
able intrepidity and talent; the indictment was proved to
be wrong both in its statements of law and of fact; and
the whole proceedings were so glaringly and monstrously
unjust, that the jury refused to return any severer verdict
than that of “ Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch Street.”
Again and again were they turned back and browbeat by
N N.
the bench ; they were kept two days and two nights with- Penn,
out food, fire, or water, but the stout English spirit was
strong within them, and it was found impossible to extort a
verdict agreeable to the court. Their last decision was
“ Not guilty,” and for this they were fined forty marks each,
with imprisonment in Newgate until the fine should be
paid. Penn and Mead were also fined for contempt of
court. All of them went to Newgate. The jurors ap¬
pealed to the Court of Common Pleas against the mayor
and recorder; the appeal was sustained ; and Penn had thus
the triumph of overcoming his oppressors, and establishing
the principle, that it is the right and the special function of
juries to judge of the value of evidence, independent of any
direction or attempted coercion of the court. Penn fol¬
lowed up his victory by the publication of a full report of
the case, The People's Ancient and Just Liberties asserted,
&c., accompanying the report with some forcible and pun¬
gent remarks. Altogether this trial and publication—the
firmness of the twelve London citizens, and the impartial
award of the Court of Common Pleas, for all which we
stand indebted to Penn—form a great landmark in the pro¬
gress of our popular and constitutional liberties.
Admiral Penn was now dying. The courage and ability
of his son gratified the parental pride and affection, and a
complete reconciliation took place. “ Son William,” said
the admiral, “ if you and your friends keep to your plain
way of preaching, and also keep to your plain way of
living, you will make an end of priests!” To accomplish
any approach to such a sweeping result, persecution, how¬
ever, would have been necessary. When the Quakers
were permitted to meet unmolested, and to speak, preach,
and dress after their own peculiar fashion, their importance
was gone, and their exclusive self-denying doctrines were
not likely ever to become general.
During the next ten years, from 1670 to 1680, Penn
continued to write, preach, and hold public disputations in
defence of Quakerism. He was six months in Newgate
(in 1671), convicted of frequenting an “ unlawful assembly;”
and in those six months he wrote and published four trea¬
tises, one of which, The Great Case of Liberty of Con¬
science, is a good comprehensive statement of a great prin¬
ciple then little understood. He travelled in Holland and
Germany, interceded with foreign states in favour of the
victims of persecution, and in 1676 became one of the
proprietors of West Jersey in America, and was instrumen¬
tal in colonizing that province by the English. At home
he was associated with Algernon Sidney in endeavouring
to obtain some mitigation of the severity against dissenters ;
and before the infamous Popish plot of Titus Oates had
driven the nation into a paroxysm of insane fury and into¬
lerance, he was permitted to address the House of Com¬
mons in behalf of those persons who were suffering penal¬
ties for conscience sake. There was, however, little pro¬
spect of emancipation in England, and Penn applied himself
to found a religious democracy in the New World. The
government stood indebted to the family of Sir William
Penn in a sum of about L.15,000 ; the claim was just and
undisputed ; but the exchequer of Charles II. was rarely
in a condition to meet such a demand. In lieu of a money
settlement, Penn solicited, and after some delay obtained,
by letters patent from the Crown, a grant of land on the
River Delaware, a vast province that had belonged to the
Dutch, 360 miles in length by 160 in width. It had been
called New Netherlands, but as the territory was moun¬
tainous, he proposed to name it New Wales. A Welsh
secretary of state, Blathwayte, objected to this appropria¬
tion ; and Penn substituted Sylvania, in reference to the
great forests which covered the land. King Charles, in
honour of his late friend the admiral, suggested the prefix
of Penn; and thus the new province bore, in the royal
charter, the liquid and euphonious name of Pennsylvania.
P E N N.
391
Penn. “ God hath given it me in the face of the world,” said Penn
in th0 fulness of his heart; “ He will bless and make it the
seed of a nation a prophecy which even one century, a
fragment in the history of a people, saw fulfilled.
In framing a constitution for his new colony, Penn was
assisted by Algernon Sidney. That fearless politician,
whose tendencies were all towards republicanism, brought
ample knowledge of ancient and modern governments to
the task. Penn, less enlightened, but perhaps more prac¬
tical, knew and felt deeply the value of religious liberty.
That sheet-anchor he never would forego, and there were
no traditional associations to bind the lawgivers. Two
still greater men of that age, Milton and Locke, drew up
forms of government. Locke’s scheme was tried at Ca¬
rolina, and proved a failure. Milton’s ideal republic was an
intellectual aristocracy that never could have been realized
with Englishmen. But Penn and Sidney made their
scheme of Christian democracy essentially popular in its
character, with a council and assembly elected by universal
suffrage, and with ample scope for the future development
and improvement of the colony. (The progress of Penn¬
sylvania, under this enlightened system of local government,
will be found described under Pennsylvania.) Trading
companies were soon organized; and emigration proceeded
from London, Bristol, and Liverpool. Penn himself sailed
for his new domain in the autumn of 1682. His voyage in
the ship Welcome, his enthusiastic reception, his laying
out the city of Philadelphia—that city in which, as spring¬
ing from the seed sown by Penn, the great declaration of
American independence was discussed and adopted,—and
his solemn conference with the Indian chiefs and warriors,
are proud and interesting materials of history. Who can
ever forget the memorable signing of the Great Treaty,
the only treaty upon record, according to Voltaire, that was
never sworn to and never broken ? Who does not picture
in imagination that scene on the banks of the Delaware,
under the magnificent old elm-tree, at which the Indian
king, attended by his sachems and younger warriors, and
the English governor, accompanied by his pilgrim-followers,
interchanged pledges of amity and brotherhood,—invoking
the Great Spirit, the common Father of all, to bless and
ratify that scroll which was to unite for ever the Christian
and the red man, the wild children of the Six Nations with
the intrepid adventurers from the Old World ; who were to
carry civilization and commerce, equity, mercy, and peace,
into the far wildernesses of the West ? The annals of con¬
quest and diplomacy, in the moment of supreme triumph,
or in halls of state, furnish no parallel in picturesque or
moral beauty to this simple conference on the American
plain under the open canopy of heaven.
Penn landed in England on the 12th of June 1684. On
the 6th of February following, Charles II. died; and Penn
lost no time in waiting on the new king, and representing
to him the sufferings of his Quaker brethren, imprisoned
for refusing to take the oaths and attend the established
church. James found that he could at once relieve the
Quakers and those of his own church, the Roman Catholics;
and orders were issued by which about thirteen hundred
Quakers, and a still greater number of Catholics, some of
whom had oeen confined for years, were set at liberty.
Penn removed to Kensington to be near the court; he was
almost daily at Whitehall closeted with the king; and
such was the extent of his supposed influence, that if he
had been disposed, he says, to “ make a market of the fears
and jealousies of the people,” when James came to the
throne, he could have put L.20,000 into his purse, and
L. 100,000 into his province of Pennsylvania. He declined
every offer of reward or gratuity from those he was able to
serve; the sordid vice of avarice was never charged against
him. He experienced, however, the usual fate of courtiers,
in being alternately envied and hated, applauded and tra¬
duced. His contemporaries said he was a Papist, holdino-
a correspondence with the Jesuits at Rome. That amiable '
and tolerant divine Tillotson for a moment gave credence
to the popular clamour, but was disabused of the impres¬
sion by the solemn and explicit denial of Penn, who de¬
clared that he did not know one Jesuit or priest of the
Romish communion. To another friend, William Popple,
secretary to the Plantation Board, Penn made a fuller
communication on the subject. He visited Whitehall, he
said, because he had continual business there in making
solicitations for his friends. His own affairs also were un¬
settled ; and he required royal authority to restrain en¬
croachments on his distant property. “ To this,” he con¬
tinues, “ let me add the relation my father had to this
king’s service, his particular favour in getting me released
out of the Tower of London in 1669, my father’s humble
request to him on his deathbed to protect me from the
inconveniences and troubles my persuasion might expose
me to, and his friendly promise to do it, and exact perform¬
ance of it, from the moment I addressed myself to him: I
say, when all this is considered, anybody that has the least
pretence to good-nature, gratitude, or generosity, must
needs know how to interpret my access to the king.” That
access, however, was so familiar and uninterrupted during
the whole of the king’s unpopular reign, that we need not
wonder at its exposing Penn to obloquy and suspicion. As in
the classic fable, all the footsteps pointed to the royal cave ;
but there were few traces of mercy or favour issuing from
it. Penn had witnessed the horrors of the Bloody Assizes
for which Jeftreys was rewarded by his sovereign; he was
present at the burning of Elizabeth Gaunt and the execu¬
tion of Henry Cornish; and he saw daily the oppressions
and confiscations exercised towards the Puritans and Non¬
conformists, with the insane efforts of James to advance
and re-establish Popery. He was in several instances em¬
ployed as arbiter and negotiator. All these things, it might
be imagined, would have disgusted Penn with the court,
and driven him, as they did Locke and Burnet, to Holland
and the Prince of Orange. But he continued a courtier and
friend of King James to the last. His conduct no doubt
proceeded, like most actions in life, from mixed feelings or
motives. His vanity was gratified by the royal attentions
he received, and by the crowd of suitors that thronged his
doors at Kensington. Such distinction was a pleasing no¬
velty to one who had felt persecution, and been thrust inm
Newgate and the Tower: it was a public recognition of
his services as a pacificator and patriot. I here was also
attachment to the king as his guardian and benefactor ;
and, above all, there was his conscientious desire and study
to “ allay heats and moderate animosities.” _ If he struck
off from the court, all hope of promoting religious toleration
or benefiting his oppressed brethren was at an end; he was
a breakwater between the royal vengeance and the non-
brilliant of English historians, Lord
Macaulay, has looked with disfavour amounting to aversion
on these courtly compliances of the Quaker negotiator.
He has even charged him with direct complicity in some
of the most questionable transactions of the period, and
with having thereby compromised his character as a man of
honour and humanity, and as a consistent supporter of re-
lio-ious liberty. It is evident that Penn did not know James
as well as Lord Macaulay, or Lord Macaulay s readers.
But the worst of the historian’s accusations seem to rest on
imperfect evidence. They are derived* from meagre re-
norts of personal conferences, doubtful letters, and obscure
despatches, which, if full information could be obtained,
miuht be susceptible of a totally different interpretation.
The most prominent of Lord Macaulay’s charges is, that
Penn was a pardon-broker or extortion-agent, a character
by no means uncommon in that age, when the sale of par-
Penn.
PENN.
392
Penn, dons was a regular trade. After the suppression of the Mon-
v"—mouth rebellion, some young girls of Taunton who had
worked colours, and presented them to the unfortunate
duke, were excepted from the general amnesty, and thrown
into prison, in order that their relatives might purchase for
them separate pardons. The money to be thus extorted was
granted to the queen’s maids of honour; and William
Penn, according to the historian, was appointed an agent
to the maids of honour, and submitted to receive instruc¬
tions to make the most advantageous composition he could
in their behalf. Had his name appeared on the other side
as intercessor for the poor girls (who had only acted under
the orders of their schoolmistress), the incident would have
been in keeping with his general character ; but the discre¬
dit of undertaking such a commission to gratify the rapacity
of the court is foreign to all we know previously of the life
of William Penn. The member for Bridgewater, Sir
Francis Warre, was at first requested to exact the ransom.
He excused himself, and then the Earl of Sunderland, se¬
cretary of state, wrote a letter which begins :—“ Mr Penne,
Her Majesty’s maids of honour having acquainted me that
they design you and Mr Walden in making a composition
with the relations of the maids of Taunton,” See. The
question arises, was the party so addressed William Penn?
The slight difference in the spelling of the name Penne
or Penn is a point of no consequence, for at that time, as
Lord Macaulay has remarked, a proper name was thought
to be well spelt if the sound were preserved. But it is of
importance to ascertain whether there was not some other
individual of the name to whose character, position, and
circumstances, the language of Sunderland would apply.
Now, it is proved that there existed at this time a certain
George Penne, engaged, as the registers of the Privy Coun¬
cil show, as a pardon-broker at Taunton. He had been
paid a sum of L.65 for the ransom of Azariah Pinney, one
of the persons compromised with Monmouth. The charac¬
ter of this man, the spelling of his name, and the circum¬
stance of his trafficking in pardons at Taunton, all point him
out as a fit agent for the maids of honour, and warrant the
conclusion that he was the person addressed by Sunderland.
The minister apparently had no doubt of the willingness
of his intended agent to accept the scandalous commission.
The maids of honour, he says, “design you and Mr Wal¬
den.” Is it probable that the offer, rejected by Sir Francis
Warre, would have been made in such terms to William
Penn, a man high at court, and the personal friend of Sun¬
derland and the king ? But if even the insulting offer were
made to William Penn, there is literally no proof that he
accepted it. According to Oldmixon (a bad authority, it
is true, but his word may be taken on an indifferent matter
when there is nothing to controvert his statement), the
composition with the Taunton maids was ultimately ar¬
ranged by another pardon-broker, a lawyer named Brent,
who was assisted by a local agent at Bridgewater. The
name of William Penn, therefore, may, we think, be con¬
sidered as standing free from this degrading association.
The charge rests on what we believe to be a wrong infer¬
ence from a single letter in the State-Paper Office, and it
is one which only the clearest and most indubitable evidence
could render credible.1 * *
In another case cited by Lord Macaulay, Penn, w7e ad¬
mit, appears in a humiliating position. When the churchmen
at last abandoned the doctrine of passive obedience, and
refused to acquiesce in the arbitrary edicts of James, the
weak and bigoted monarch endeavoured to gain over some
of the more conspicuous of the dissenters. Amongst these
was William Kiffin, a wealthy London merchant, and a
leader among the Baptists. Kiffin had lost tw'o grandsons, Penn,
popular young men, who had joined Monmouth’s rebellion, »
and suffered death under circumstances that excited the
public compassion, and evinced the hard and unrelenting
character of the king. In consequence of this severity, it
was doubtful whether Kiffin w ould accept the offer of a city
magistracy held out to him by the court. “ I used all the
means I could,” says the old man, “ to be excused, both by
some lords near the king, and also by Sir Nicholas Butler
and Mr Penn, but it was all in vain. I was told that they
knew I had an interest that might serve the king, and
although they knew my sufferings were great in cutting off
my two grandchildren and losing their estates, yet it should
be made up to me, both in their estates and also in what
honour or advantage I could reasonably desire for myself.
But l thank the Lord these proffers were no snares to me.”
(Kiffin’s Memoirs.) It is painful to find William Penn
engaged in such a mission, and connected, as Lord Macau¬
lay remarks, with “ the heartless and venal sycophants of
Whitehall.” But we know not how far he was implicated
in the work of seduction. The language of Kiffin is gene¬
ral and obscure, and the proffers to which he refers are
likely to have proceeded from the “ lords near the king.”
Penn individually may have been passive in the transaction,
though led by his attachment to the king, or urged by the
royal entreaties, to confer with Kiffin. The matter is to be
regretted ; but it is one that implies a want of feeling, not a
want of principle.
There is still another case of Penn’s mediation which
has exposed him to censure. This is the case of Dr Hough,
president of Magdalen College, Oxford, afterwards Bishop
Hough, “ loved and esteemed by all the nation,” as Pope
has written. Hough, supported by the fellows of his col¬
lege, would not retire from his presidency at the dictation
of the king, to make w-ay for the infamous Parker, Bishop
of Oxford. Such compliance would be a violation of their
statutes and their oaths. But anxious to conciliate James,
the fellows engaged the services of Penn as intercessor on
their behalf. “ He exhorted the fellows,” says Lord Mac¬
aulay, “ not to rely on the goodness of their cause, Taut to
submit, or at least to temporize.” The authority for this
statement is a note addressed during the heat of the con¬
troversy to Bailey, one of the fellows of Magdalen. The
note was without signature, and was not in Penn’s hand¬
writing, but Bailey believed it to proceed from him, and he
replied to it in a letter addressed to Penn. Both letter and
answer were printed, and afterwards, during Penn’s life,
were frequently reprinted, without calling forth any public
contradiction from him. Hence Lord Macaulay concludes
that the anonymous epistle containing such discreditable
counsel was really the production of Penn. To this it is
replied that Penn did deny the letter. A contemporary
account of the transaction is extant among the papers of
Magdalen College, and on the margin of the anonymous
letter is written by Hunt, one of the fellows engaged in the
conference, the distinct declaration,—“ This letter Mr Penn
disowned.” How he disowned it, whether verbally or by
letter, does not appear ; but the indorsement made by Hunt
seems an authentic contradiction. Having satisfied the
parties most nearly interested, Penn might be unwilling for
various reasons to resort to a public disavowal. He had
completely failed as a mediator, and the king, in his contest
with the college, had rendered himself at once odious
and contemptible. Silence, therefore, was the euthanasia
to be desired.
The conference with the fellows was afterwards re¬
sumed at Windsor. On this occasion Penn is charged by
1 Sir James Mackintosh first inferred that Sunderland's letter was addressed to William Penn. He was ignorant of the existence of
George Penne. (For the full discussion of this and other charges against the Quaker legislator, see the Life of William Penn, by Mr Hep-
worth Dixon, new edit., 1856; and Lord Macaulay’s History of England, edition of 1858.)
PENN.
Penn Lord Macaulay with having “ used a bishopric as a bait
to tempt a divine to perjury.” The divine was Dr Hough,
who, in a letter to a iriend, gave the only account we pos¬
sess of the interview. “ I thank God,” says Hough, “ that
he (Penn) did not offer any proposal by way of accommo¬
dation ; only once, upon the mention of the Bishop of Ox¬
ford’s indisposition, he said, smiling, ‘ If the Bishop of
Oxford die, Dr Hough may be made bishop. What think
you of that, gentlemen?’” And Hough adds, “When I
heard him talk at this rate, I concluded he was either off
his guard, or had a mind to droll upon us.” The drollery
was certainly ill-timed and open to misconstruction ; but
we cannot think that it affords any good basis for a serious
accusation. Penn we believe to have been sick of the con¬
ference. He knew how utterly fruitless the whole would
be ; his own views were directed towards a larger measure
of toleration ; and, tired of the contest, he was glad to es¬
cape for a moment from unavailing argument to the shelter
of even a poor jest. He had better been absent from both
conferences ; but the sum of his errors does not amount to
criminality. He was credulous and deluded as to the king’s
intentions ; he lived in bad times ; and, considering politi¬
cal questions as vastly subordinate to his religious views, he
was willing, in order, as he conceived, to promote the
latter, and preserve peace, to concede points which his
friends Sidney and Locke would have strenuously resisted
or unhesitatingly condemned.
In the midst of these difficulties and contentions, Penn
issued another theological treatise—Good advice to the
Church of England, the Roman Catholic, and Protestant
Dissenters. The work was an earnest pleading for tolera¬
tion to all sects, and for the repeal of the Test Act; but
it was little regarded. The nation had then entered on
that great contest which resulted in the abdication and
flight of the king. Penn saw the inevitable tendency of
James’s measures, and counselled him against the headlong
defiant course which lost him his throne, but his efforts
had only the effect of increasing the popular suspicion
against himself. The infatuated monarch had scarcely
crossed the Channel ere Penn was summoned before the
lords of council, and obliged to give security, in a sum
of L.6000, for his appearance on the first day of next term.
When that day arrived there was no charge and no accuser.
But in May 1690 Penn was arrested on the grave accusa¬
tion of holding a treasonable correspondence with the de¬
posed king. James had written to Penn soliciting his as¬
sistance and renewing his professions of regard, and the let¬
ter, along with others, had been intercepted. Penn’s de¬
fence was simple and direct. He could not prevent the
royal exile from writing to him: he felt towards James a
sincere friendship, but he had never thought of restoring
him to the throne ; and he had not been able to agree with
him on state affairs. The new sovereign, William III.,
would at once have set him at liberty without imposing
any conditions, but in deference to some members of
council, Penn was required to give bail. Next year a simi¬
lar charge was preferred against him by an infamous in¬
former named Fuller (afterwards branded by the House
of Commons as a cheat, a rogue, and false accuser), and
Penn withdrew from public notice. His enemies were nu¬
merous and strong: they darkened the very air against
him, he said. He retired to his seat in the country
(whither he does not seem to have been pursued), and con¬
tinued there for more than two years. He solaced his
forced retirement by literary labour, and produced a se¬
ries of Reflections and Maxims, embodying the experiences
of his busy life, and an Essay towards the Present and
Future Peace of Europe, in which he argued for a great
European congress to settle international differences
tained a public hearing hi council, and was fully acquitted
of all the charges and suspicions that had so long hun<>- V
over him. A brighter day seemed at length to be at hand.
A new series of troubles, however, sprung up regardino-
his American colony—that “Holy Experiment” which lay
so near his heart. The success of the French in the war
then raging rendered it necessary to strengthen the fron¬
tiers, and form one imperial government out of the northern
colonies. The separate charter of Pennsylvania would
require to be abolished in order to secure military co-opera¬
tion, and in such a step, however liberally the government
might be disposed to act in acquiring the province, the go¬
vernor saw the destruction of all his long-cherished hopes
and plans. The calamity was averted by Penn relinquish¬
ing in part his pacific Quaker principles, and agreeing to
furnish a contingent of eighty men, with the necessary
equipments, during the continuance of the war. The peace
of Ryswick afterwards removed this difficulty, and no mi¬
litary organization was attempted. Discontent, however,
began to spread in Pennsylvania, and Penn was resolved to
proceed once more to his colony. In September 1699 he
embarked for America, and arriving in safety at Pennsyl¬
vania, continued to reside there for a period of three years.
His presence had the effect of appeasing the animosities of
rival factions. He renewed and extended his friendly
treaties with the natives, and, in conjunction with his coun¬
cil and assembly, arranged another governmental code or
charter for the province. In all these transactions—diffi¬
cult and delicate as many of them, with a mixed body of
settlers, must have proved—the justice, benevolence, and
generosity of Penn are strikingly apparent. His exertions
in the New World were, however, threatened with total de¬
struction at home. A strong effort was made to convert
the private into Crown colonies. A Bill of Annexation had
been drawn up and brought into the House of Lords; and
Penn hastened back to England to vindicate his rights.
He was again successful; but other calamities awaited the
governor of Pennsylvania. His son, whom he had sent out
as his representative to the colony, disgraced his birth, and
alienated the affections of the people by flagrant misconduct;
and the executors of a crafty steward, whom he had long
trusted, preferred against him a claim amounting to
L. 14,000, at the same time threatening to seize and sell
the province if the sum were not immediately paid. I he
accounts were complicated ; a Chancery suit followed, and
Penn, acting under legal advice, sought shelter from suc¬
cessful knavery in the Fleet Prison. In this extremity of
his fortunes he contemplated the sale of Pennsylvania to
the Crown. For the soil and government of the province
he asked a sum of L.20,000, with a guarantee that it should
remain a separate and distinct colony, and enjoy the free in¬
stitutions established by its founder. A considerable por¬
tion of the settlers had grown lukewarm or hostile to their
old benefactor, animated by that grasping and selfish spirit
too often the concomitant of young colonies struggling tor
wealth and power. But Penn remembered the principles
on which he had founded his Christian democracy, and stil
desired to legislate for future generations. '1 he imperial
government declined his offer, restricted by the conditions
to which he adhered; and Penn was able by the help of
friends to effect a settlement with his rapacious creditors.
He was again at liberty, and he retired to a country seat
which he had taken in Berkshire. His long confinement
in the close atmosphere of the Old Bailey, his griefs, dis¬
appointments, and losses, and the pressure of more than
threescore years, had seriously impaired his health and
vigour. He still corresponded on the affairs of his colony,
his latest efforts being directed towards the relief of the
nnnr Neirroes. But in 1712 he sustained several shocks of
1 le, lntfnat'ona,‘ .rT “f SvsKnd ere the year closed the once active and ter-
anthout an appeal to amts. At length, towards the do.e of pmdja s £ ,aid in ruins. He lingered
1692, Penn, on an urgent application to the Crown, on- tne mmu ui ^ R
VOL. XVII.
393
Penn.
1.
PEN
on for nearly six more years, lost to the world, but free from
suffering—a’child in intellect, and delighting in his child¬
ren, his fields, and flowers, till death came to his release,
July 29, 1718. “ The traveller,” says a local historian, “in
passing from Beaconsfield to the neighbouring village of
Chalfont St Giles in Bucks, passes a small inclosure on the
right-hand side of the road, known as the Friends’ or Jour-
dan’s burial-ground. But though no monumental stone at¬
tracts attention, and the sunken graves hidden in the tall
grass escape the passing glance of a stranger, it well deserves
to be recorded as the resting-place of William Penn, the
founder of Pennsylvania.” Two of Milton’s friends
Thomas Ellwood, who read to the poet in his blindness,
and Isaac Pennington—were buried in the same sequestered
graveyard. Near it is the cottage in which Milton resided
during the prevalence of the plague in London, and where
he is supposed, at the suggestion of Ellwood, to have writ¬
ten his Paradise Pegained; and a few miles off, separated
from Chalfont by green lanes and groves of beech and elm,
are the last residences and the graves of Waller and
Burke. Amidst scenes thus consecrated by genius and
patriotism, and rich in natural beauty, the ashes of William
penn_an English worthy of the old simple heroic stamp—
have found a fitting place of repose. (R. C—S.)
PENNANT, Thomas, an eminent naturalist, was born of
an old Welsh family at Downing in Flintshire on the 14th June
1726. He acquired the rudiments of his education at Wrex-
ham, and subsequently studied at the university of Oxford.
His taste for natural history was first excited by the per¬
usal of Willughby’s Ornithology; and he had no sooner left
Oxford than he set out on an excursion into Cornwall in
pursuit of his favourite science. He became a contributor
to the Philosophical Transactions as early as 1750; and in
1756 was chosen a member of the Royal Society of Upsal
on the recommendation of Linnaeus. His reputation as a
naturalist was established by his British Zoology, in one
volume folio, in 1761, and subsequently extended to 2, 3,
and 4 octavos. He visited the Continent while this work
was in the press, and made the acquaintance of Buffon,
Pallas, and Haller. He set out for Scotland on a scien¬
tific excursion in 1771, and published an amusing ac¬
count of his tour in three volumes 4to, which passed
through several editions. During the same year he pub¬
lished his Synopsis of Quadrupeds, afterwards enlarged
into a History of Quadrupeds. His Welsh tour was pub¬
lished in 1778, and his journey from Chester to London in
1782, in one volume 4to. About the year 1784 appeared
his Arctic Zoology, a work which, although chiefly a com¬
pilation, was very much esteemed. He also published a
natural history of the parishes of Holywell and Downing,
within the latter of which he had resided during more than
fifty years. Not long before his death appeared his View
of Hindustan, in two volumes 4to, two more volumes being
brought out by his son after his death, entitled Outlines of
the Globe. Pennant died at his seat at Downing in 1798,
in the seventy-second year of his age.
PENNISTON, a market-town of England, in the West
Ridini"- of Yorkshire, stands on the right bank of the Don,
17 miles S.S.W. of Wakefield, and 175 N.N.W. of London.
It is well and regularly built; and contains a parish church,
places of worship belonging to Independents, Methodists,
and Quakers, a grammar school, and a free school for girls.
There are here quarries of paving-stones, coal-pits, and
woollen and cotton manufactories. A weekly market and
five annual fairs are held at Penniston. Pop. of parish, 6302.
PENNSYLVANIA is central in its position with re¬
spect to the original Thirteen States and their territories ;
New England at the N.E., and the southern states at the S.,
being equally distant. Later accessions of territory have
thrown if. eastward and northward of the geographical centre,
though it still remains nearly central to the business and
PEN
population generally. The limits of the state form a nearly Pennsyl-
perfect rectangular figure, lying between a line at 39. 43. vania.
N. Lat. at the S., and one at 42. 15. at the N. The
eastern boundary is irregular, following the course of the
Delaware River, and at the extreme points reaching to 74.
42. W. Long. The western boundary is a right line at
80. 46. W. Long. The adjacent states are,—New York
on the N., New' Jersey on the E., Delaware, Maryland,
and Virginia on the S., with a part of Virginia and Ohio
on the W. At the north-western corner some territory is
added, giving a shore-line of 45 miles on Lake Eiie ; and
at the S.E. the state of Delaware extends northward,
along a crescent line of 25 miles, into the rectangle. The
extreme length of the state is 310 miles, and its width
160 miles, to which last 15 miles are added at the point of
contact with Lake Erie. The whole area is 44,400 square
miles, or 28,416,000 acres.
The south-eastern part of the state is very little elevated
above the sea; but proceeding northward and westward, it
soon becomes rough, and finally mountainous, the cential
part of the state being particularly so. The elevated mass
which this mountainous interior presents is cut through by
several branches of the Susquehanna and Delaware rivers ;
yet the most accessible pass for the railroad to Erie is at
1900 feet above the sea, and that ol the central railroad to
Pittsburg is at 2360 feet. A tunnel here reduces the ac¬
tual track of the railroad to 2161 feet. Westward of this
mountainous centre the surface declines toward the Ohio
River and Lake Erie, remaining generally at about 1150
feet elevation, though deeply cut by the Ohio and its tribu¬
taries. The bed of the Ohio is at 650 feet above the sea
at the point where it leaves the state, and the plain border
ing Lake Erie is at nearly the same altitude. Notwith¬
standing the number of mountain ridges, and the general
altitude of the interior and western portions, the suriace
aspect is usually smooth and well wooded, without the pro¬
portion of rocky and precipitous declivities usually found in
such uplifted tracks.
The mountains of the state are a section of the great
Appalachian chain, and consist of a large number of paiallel
ridges, which come into the state at the S., on a line from
S.W. to N.E., but curve more eastward toward the N.,
forming crescent lines, and passing into New Jeisey and
southern New York. This mountainous belt is neaily
200 miles in width, and the ridges on the eastern side are
generally more narrow and precipitous than those on the
W. These last are the Alleghanies proper, and they are
more massive, often with broad summits, and with laige
areas of arable surface. The ridges at the E. have a shaie
of igneous and altered rocks, but those of the interior and
the W. are all made up of rocks of the coal measures, or of
rocks just below them. None of the mountains are granitic
or volcanic, except some small portion of the South Moun¬
tain, the first ridge met from the east. 1 his ridge is about
1000 feet above the sea; and the next inland, called the
Blue Mountain or Blue Ridge, is about 1500 feet high,
the first named being interrupted in the interior, and the
last named passing entirely through the state from New
Jersey into Maryland at the south. West of this, in the
coal region, is Broad Mountain ; and a constant succession
of less distinguished or less continuous ridges occupies the
space westward, until, at the most elevated portion, the Bald
Eagle, Alleghany, Chesnut, and Laurel ridges of mountains
are met. These last named are often near 3000 feet above
the sea, and their average is about 2500 feet. T here are
no single peaks of any note in the state, and the remarkable
continuity of the ridges is everywhere characteristic.
The valleys are the complement of the peculiar ridge
formation belonging to this chain of mountains, though not
so decisively marked as those of Virginia in this respect.
The whole arable portion of the interior of the state lies in
PENNSYLVANIA.
395
Peansyl*
vania.
the succession of valleys corresponding with the ridges, and
in the river valleys cutting through these ridges. The
Susquehanna and Delaware cut through the entire belt ot
ridges; but their tributaries usually drain the valleys in a
line at right angles to the two greater rivers. The Cumber¬
land or Appalachian Valley is the principal one in the state,
extending entirely through it eastward and southwaidof the
Blue Ridge. The Wyoming Valley is the most important
on the north branch of the Susquehanna; and on the west
branch the Juniata and Sinnemahoning valleys are ex¬
amples. West of the mountains the beds of the Alleghany
and Monongahela rivers constitute deep and continuous
valleys, into which tributaries from the lateral valleys of the
Alleghany ridges fall; the most important of which are in
Fayette, Somerset, and Indiana counties.
Delaware River forms the eastern boundary of the state,
and it is much like the Hudson in its breadth and depth of
water for a considerable distance inland. 1 ide water ex¬
tends 132 miles from the sea to Trenton, New Jersey ; and
the river is remarkable for its depth at and below Phila¬
delphia, admitting ships of the largest class. For much of
the wharf-line of that city it measures 45 feet in depth.
The Delaware rises in New York among the Shawangunk
Mountains, and it is navigable for boats for the whole dis¬
tance after touching Pennsylvania, though partial interrup¬
tion exists at the Delaware Water Gap, where it bieaks
through the Blue Ridge, and again where it passes over a
ledge of primary rocks at Trenton, New Jersey. Its length
is 300 miles. The Susquehanna drains the central portion
of the state southward into Chesapeake Bay. This is a
vapid river with a rocky bed, and navigable only for floats
and lumber within the state, which are sent down it in great
quantities at the spring floods. The main stream is 150 miles
long below Northumberland. The north branch rises in
New York, and has a tortuous course of 250 miles to the
point of junction. The west branch rises beyond the
Alleghany Mountains, and cuts through them in a very
irregular course of 200 miles to Northumberland, the point
of junction. The Ohio River drains all the western part of
the state, except a small slope to Lake Erie » yet 50 miles
only of the river so named lie within it. I he Alleghany is
its chief branch, rising in the northern county of Pottei,
and making a curve within the limits of New York, to re¬
turn southward 150 miles to Pittsburg. It is navigable for
steamboats throughout this distance for a part of the year.
The Monongahela is the other great branch, rising in Vir¬
ginia, and running northward, and navigable for steamboats
60 miles. Below their junction the Ohio is usually navi¬
gable for large boats, though sometimes failing in summer.
The Lehigh and Schuylkill are branches of the Delaware
from the west, and of note in the business and history of
the state. Both have canals and lockage navigation, and
send vast quantities of coal and iron to market. 1 he Lehigh
is 90 miles in length, and the Schuylkill 120 miles, passing
through Philadelphia just below its entrance into the Dela¬
ware. The Juniata is a large branch of the Susquehanna
from the west, running through a rich coal and iron region
for 150 miles. ,
Lake Erie is the only lake bordering on or within the
state. At this point, which is one-third its length from
Buffalo, the lake is clear from ice early, and here is the
very superior harbour of Presque Isle, or Erie.
The geological features of the state may be described as
being made up of an area of primary rocks of the stratihe
class, with small veins of granite and intrusions of tiap at
intervals, covering the south-eastern counties below a hne
from Easton to Harrisburg and Gettysburg. AH
at an angle of 30° to 60°, dipping S.E. Next is a be t o
gneiss, mica-slate, and the older sandstones, in the like posi
tions. Other altered rocks, with their unaltered associates,
in various positions of folding and even ot overturne
plication and contortion, succeed, in proceeding inland;
and following in the ascending series, are the white sand¬
stone, the iron-bearing shales, the valley limestone, and
then the slates, limestones, sandstones, and shales of the
New York formations. Above these are the conglome¬
rates, and upon these last the coal measures, which, like
all below them, present the most extraordinary pheno-
Pennsyl-
vania.
mena of folding, overlapping, and every form of wave¬
like disturbance. To this disturbance and its attendant
alterations the production of the anthracite coal is due.
Many faults and dislocations of shale exist here, and the
entire body of the coal is deprived of its bitumen. To¬
ward the interior a portion of the coal becomes semi-
bituminous, and beyond the Alleghanies it is wholly bitu¬
minous. The coal measures cover the whole western por¬
tion of the state, sinking all the older geological formations
far beneath the surface, the deepest point of the basin be-
ino- near Pittsburg. The vast bituminous coal basin is
little disturbed by geological uplifts, dipping inward and
southward; the strata cropping out, however, at the northern
line of the state. Toward Lake Erie the descent is rapid
over the outcropping strata of the New York shales, the
only rocks in this part of the state below the coal, 2000 feet
of these being cut through in a descent of 1000 feet to the
bed of the lake. The distortion and alteration of the eastern
part of the great coal formation of Pennsylvania is the most
remarkable geological feature of the state.
The minerals of the state are indicated by its geological
character. Coal is first, and iron next, as its natural asso¬
ciate. There are no mines of the precious metals ; but
copper, zinc, and lead are found in small quantities in the
east. Plumbago is also mined. Iron is more extensively
made than in any other part of the Union, because of t ie
proximity of rich fossil and hematite ores to the anthracite
coal. The entire belt of hilly lands lying next the first
high ridges is remarkably rich in all forms ot the sedimen¬
tary oxides of iron, both the open surface and the lower
strata of the primal shales yielding great quantities of these
ores ; and they are also abundant in the interior and western
part of the state. Very valuable iron sandstones are also
worked at Danville and in other parts of the interior. I he
production of iron for three years is here given, the anthra¬
cite iron being made in the anthracite coal region, and
the charcoal and coke-iron mainly near 1 dtsbuig.
Anthracite. Charcoal and Coke. Total-
T , . 208703 152,703 361,406
Iron made m 1854..........208,7^ 7
” 1856 306,966 140,75- _ 447,7
The production of coal is very great. The mines o^ ^e
anthracite region are remarkable for the grea
bed/Thet pSar and often vertical pos t.cn, and for the
vefy’great facilities they offer fcr ^ £
sides^the ^C^S^g„Very^tops<of tl^ltil^-" tfpic-
ing thick beds of U5*}1 1 , re!ri0n is the machinery
turesque feature »f the * e h ] el of rivers and
for rnnning coa down *e hinsc(t0 . ^ of
"t^^exis^dontchof^^^
“riv^valC ^The quantity of coal mined for recent
years is as follows . Bituminous Coal.
Anthracite Coal. Tons.
R ^8ooo   1,503,000
1855   958 891  1,842,600
  6*,764,587 '... (estimated at) 2,000,000
Tn 1857 34 000)000 bushels of bituminous coal were
v Jl tn markets on the Ohio River below Pittsburg, or
S1 S ow ton Valuable beds of cannel coal are worked
»r Csburg for the manufacture of oil, as well as for
fuel! Large Quantities of marble are produced m vanous
“tsof the state; and the recent l.mestone of the coal
396
PENNSYLVANIA.
measures, with the blue limestone of the Appalachian
valleys, are generally abundant, and largely used as fer¬
tilizers after burning. The marble used so much at
Philadelphia is from the limestone basin of Montgomery
county.
Salt springs are worked on the Monongahela and Beaver
rivers. In 1850, 919,100 bushels of salt were made there.
Nitrate of potash (saltpetre) has been found in large de¬
posits. Mineral and medicinal springs exist in many parts,
generally chalybeate, or but slightly sulphurous, of which
the Bedford springs are the most celebrated as a resort.
Valuable white sulphur springs exist in a few localities.
The climate of Pennsylvania is marked by the extremes
of heat and humidity peculiar to all parts of the United
States in that latitude. The yearly mean temperature is
45° on the northern border, and 52° on the southern ; the
isothermal line of 50° traversing the state somewhat south
of its centre. The summer mean is 70° for the central
portion, varying from 66° at the highest part of the northern
border to 73° at the south. In winter the western part is
relatively coldest, tlie mean for the three months being 30°
at Pittsburg, and 33° at Philadelphia. At Philadelphia the
most extreme cold observed is 10° below zero, and the
greatest heat in the shade 100°. The average of minimum
observations for January is 8°, and of maximum temperature
in July 93^°. At Pittsburg the coldest point observed is
18° below zero, and the greatest heat 100°. The elevated
portions of the interior are colder than the cities named by
about 1° for 400 feet of altitude. The quantity of rain
falling has an average for the year of 42 to 45 inches for
the eastern part of the state, and of 36 inches for the part
west of the mountains. In the three months of summer 12
inches fall east of the mountains, and 10 inches west of
them. In winter the eastern part has 10 inches, and the
western 7, more than half of which falls as snow. In the
central and northern parts the snow remains on the ground
throughout the winter ; but at Philadelphia it rarely lies
long. In extreme winters the Delaware is covered with
ice. Navigation was closed for weeks in 1856 and 1857 ;
but such instances occur only at remote intervals. The
Ohio River is more frequently frozen, and navigation is
usually suspended on it for the three winter months. Pe¬
riods of severe drought are incident to the climate; and
periods of excessive humidity also occur, the quantity of
rain falling in one summer month sometimes reaching to
] 2 inches. The winds are generally from the west; but
south-east and north-east winds produce great storms,
particularly in the eastern part of the state. 1 he climate
is, on the whole, a favourable one to energy and health,
being less severe than that of the northern states, and free
from the unhealthy heats of the states at the south and
along the Gulf of Mexico.
The soil is very uniformly fertile, except on the declivi¬
ties of the mountain ridges. No considerable portion is
sandy to excess, as is the case with soils nearer the Atlantic;
and most of the arable surface overlies limestone, or is
within easy reach of it. Lime is largely used as a fertilizer ;
and with it clover and wheat have been established and
maintained as staple crops. The red clay of the Atlantic
border occurs in small quantities in the south-eastern
counties ; but the soil is generally better, and made up of
more diversified elements, than that of the states southward.
In the north there are elevated tracts of a somewhat tenacious
soil of clay and loam, best fitted for grazing purposes; a
belt made up of the northern line of counties being generally
of this character. The richest lands are on the many river
alluvions, and on the bituminous coal measures in the
western part of the state; the last being remarkably pro¬
ductive both in grain and forage crops, and consisting of a
deep loam, into the composition of which lime largely enters,
bv abrasion of rocks at or near the surface. Guano is
largely used as a fertilizer near Philadelphia, but not in the Pennsyl-
western part of the state. Narrow belts of barren mag- vania.
nesian soil exist on the serpentine rocks of the south-
eastern counties.
The agriculture of the state is mainly devoted to grain¬
growing and grazing. Corn and tobacco are largely culti¬
vated,—the second, however, is not cultivated as a leading
field crop ; while cotton is unknown, and hemp very little
cultivated. By the census of 1850 there were 127,577
farms, embracing 8,628,619 acres of land, which quan¬
tities would be in 1858 probably 140,000 farms and
9,000,000 acres under cultivation, in consequence of the
opening up of new lands. In 1850 the crop of wheat was
15,367,691 bushels; of rye, 4,805,160; of Indian corn,
19,835,214 ; of oats, 21,538,156 ; of peas and beans,
55,231 ; of Irish potatoes, 5,980,732 ; of buckwheat,
2,192,693 ; of barley, 165,584 ; of clover and grass seeds,
178,983 ; of flax-seed, 41,728 bushels, &c. The grazing
products were 39,878,418 lb. of butter; 2,505,034 lb. of
cheese ; 4,481,570 lb. of wool ; 1,872,970 tons of hay.
Value of live stock, L.8,645,844 ; and of slaughtered ani¬
mals, L.1,712,468. The production of tobacco was 912,651
lb.; of maple-sugar, 2,326,425 lb. The value of orchard
fruits was'given as L.150,706, and of market products
L.143,842. For the year 1858 the increase upon these
last sums is very great, raising the last named at least to
twice the sum here given.
The manufactures of the state are extensive, particularly
in iron and the textile fabrics of wool and cotton. The
most recent official statistics are those of the census of 1850,
and these are probably nearly correct for the interior of the
state, though known to have been imperfectly taken in the
great cities, and to be very much below the actual extent
of all the manufactures of the state at that time. 4 his
census gives the following division of items:—
No. of Esta¬
blishments.
Cotton manufactures 208
Woollen manufactures... 380
Manufactures of pig-iron 180
Manufac. of iron castings 320
Manufac. of wrought-iron 162
Capital.
L.943,525
626,055
5,783,005
713,084
1,631,024
Hands
employed.
7663
5726
9294
4783
6598
Production.
L.l,108,805
1,108,722
1,264,898
1,115,600
1,921,720
The total for the state of all classes embraced under the
head of manufactures, mining, and the mechanic arts, is
21,605 establishments, L.l9,682,000 of capital, 127,768
persons employed, and an annual product of L.32,301,000.
By researches carefully made at Philadelphia at the close
of 1857, it was ascertained that the manufacture of iron in
all its forms for that city and its vicinity reached an aggre¬
gate value of L.3,000,000 for the year ending July 1, 1857 ;
employing 12,000 workmen. The same investigation
showed a production of L.5,000,000 in cotton, woollen,
and silk textile fabrics for the same district, employing
20,000 male and female work-people. At Pittsburg alone
there was produced in 1857 glass to the value oi L.548,330.
The leading manufactures other than these are paper, drugs
and chemicals, gold-leaf and watches, silver ware and plate,
boots and shoes, clothing and hats, plain and morocco lea¬
ther, glass-ware, brass and brazier’s and bolt copper, cabinet
and house furnishing wares, soap and candles, carriages,
and a large number of classes of useful and fancy goods.
These manufactured goods are mainly sold at the south
and west, including the West Indies, though many are
sent to the northern states and Canada.
The commerce of the state is large and increasing,
though several causes have recently concurred to cause
foreign importations to come through the port of New
York. It is estimated that about L.2,500,000 worth of
package dry goods are so imported at New York and
Boston for merchants in Philadelphia, and for distribution
to the interior from this point. The tonnage for the port
PENNSYLVANIA.
397
Pennsyl- of Philadelphia for the year ending June 30, 1857, was,—
vania. tons registered, 59,404 ; tons enrolled and licensed,
v'™"'7 151,976; total, 211,380 tons. The tonnage of the river-
port of Pittsburg was 51,061 tons; and of the lake-port of
Erie, 10,378 tons. The coasting and coal trades employ
much of the tonnage now entered at Philadelphia. A line
of Liverpool packets of the first class exists ; and an ocean
steam line to Liverpool was in operation from 1852 to 1856.
The total value of imports at Philadelphia, where all the
foreign commerce of the state is carried on, for the year
ending July 1, 1857, was,—of free goods, L.428,000; of
goods paying duty, L.3,290,850 ; total, L.3,718,850. rlhe
principal articles were,—
L.651,350
371,410
164,630
32,537
99,830
54,685
101,047
481,255
585,378
79,938
234,602
302,314
110,532
The total value of exports to foreign countries for the year
ending July 1, 1857, was, for goods the produce of the
United States, L.1,451,050; and for goods of foreign
origin, L.35,400. The chief articles of export were—
Manufactures of iron..L.92,473
Manufactures of wood 43,741
Sugar      58,137,504 lb.
Coffee  18,823,714 ,,
Molasses  3,137,011 gallons
Salt  1,101,567 bushels
Sulphur, soda, and chloride of lime  
Copper, lead, brass, and tin   
China and porcelain   
Manufactures of wool, and wool
and cotton   
Manufactures of cotton   
Manufactures of silk   
Manufactures of linen   
Iron, steel, and manufactures of do 
Raw hides and skins   
Candles and soaps  30,463
Clover-seed  26,754
Flour and wheat L.622,259
Indian corn and meal 184,505
Pork, lard, and bacon 151,558
Butter and cheese  17,168
Beef and tallow  35,800
The principal trade of the state is not represented in its
imports or exports, being with other states of the Union
west and south. Dry goods (foreign and domestic), manu¬
factures of iron and other metals, glass, manufactures of
leather, chemicals and drugs, and the full supply of all
goods, indeed, is taken to the south-western states, mainly
from Philadelphia and Pittsburg. Large quantities are also
sent northward and coastwise to all parts of the United
States. Great quantities of lumber, coal, glass, and iron
are carried down the Ohio River from Pittsburg. I he
lumber trade of the Alleghany River alone for 1857 reached
the amount of L.300,166 for lumber sold at Pittsburg, and
L.373,080 for that sent by way of the Ohio River to other
states. The amount of lumber sent down the Susquehanna
River for 1856 and 1857 was about 70,000,000 superficial
feet, and its value L. 163,000 for each year.
Railroads were constructed as early as 1828 in the coal¬
mining districts; and they have maintained their promi¬
nence among transportation agencies, this state now having
a greater aggregate number of miles than any other. At
the close of 1857 there were 59 railroads in the state not less
than 10 miles in length, and making up an aggregate length
of 2500 miles. Their total cost was L.27,000,000. Ihe
principal were,—Pennsylvania Central, Philadelphia to Pitts¬
burg, 329 miles ; Philadelphia and Reading, 98 ; Delaware,
Sackawanna, and Western, 113; North Pennsylvania, Phila¬
delphia to Bethlehem, 67-|-; Williamsport and Elmina, 78 ;
Sunbury and Erie, 270 miles—now finished, 40; Lehigh
Valley, 46 : Catawissa, Williamsport, and Erie, 63^ ; Alle¬
ghany Valley, 176 miles—finished, 44 ; Northern Central,^
138 miles—within the state, 96; Lebanon Valley, 53-^. Of
the great southern road to Baltimore 19 miles are within
the state. The Philadelphia and Newton road, 28 miles,
is a part of the great northern line. From Pittsburg there
are several great roads leading westward, each about 40
miles in length within the state, as the Pittsburg, Foit
Wayne, and Chicago ; Pittsburg and Steubenville; and
Pittsburg and Connellsville. Within the year ending with
June 1858 the sale and transfer of all the state property in v'
lines of internal transportation by canal and railroad has
been effected. The Pennsylvania Central Railroad Com¬
pany purchased the main line of public works, consisting,
ls£, of two canals, one 181 miles in length, from Columbia
to Plollidaysburg, and the other, 101 miles in length, from
Johnstown to Pittsburg ; 2d, of a double-track railroad, 81
miles in length, from Philadelphia to Harrisburg, and 37
miles of railway between Johnstown and Hollidaysburg.
For these roads and canals the Central Railroad Company
pays L. 1,500,000, which sum is added to the cost of that road
as given above. The second sale by the state was to the
Sunbury and Erie Railroad Company, conveying to them
the canals of the north and west branches of the Susque¬
hanna River, four in number, and forming a connected
line from the Juniata River to the New York State line
along the north branch, and to Farrandsville on the west
branch,—a total distance of 167 miles ; and also the Dela¬
ware division of the state canals, from Bristol to Easton, 60
miles. These canals were sold for L.700,000, both sales
by act of the legislature. The remaining canals within
the state are the property of private companies. The total
length of canals in the state is 1293 miles, of which 921
miles are east of the mountains, and 372 miles west of the
mountains. The canals belonging to private companies
are as follows:—Schuylkill Navigation, Philadelphia to
Port Carbon, 108 miles; Lehigh Navigation, Easton to
Stoddartsville, 84 ; Union Canal, Reading to Middletown
and Pinegrove, 99 ; Susquehanna and Tidewater, Columbia
to Havre de Grace, 45 ; Delaware and Hudson Canal,
Howsdale to Hudson River, 25 in the state; Erie Canal,
Beaver to Erie, 136; Pennsylvania and Ohio,—portion
within the state, 10; Monongahela Navigation, along Mo-
nongahela River, 84; Bald Eagle Navigation, at Bellefonte,
25; and Conestoga and Youghiogheny Navigation, 36.
The business of these railroads and canals in the coal region
is immense. For 1856 the Schuylkill Canal transported
1,275,988 tons of coal, and the Reading Railroad 1,709,692
tons. The Lehigh Canal transported, in 1856, 1,186,230
tons of coal.
The government of Pennsylvania has the simpie republi¬
can form common to all the States. 1 he legislature con¬
sists of a House of Representatives of 100 members, elected
annually, and a Senate of 33 members, elected for a term
of three years. Both classes are now elected by districts
having sometimes two or three representatives each, but
after 1864 the constitution requires their election by single
districts. The powers of the legislature are liberally con¬
strued ; it may enact any laws not prohibited by the constitu¬
tion In 1776 the colony made many changes m its charter,
giving it much of the form of a state constitution; but the
first complete state constitution was prepared and adopted
bv a -eneral convention called for that purpose in 1790. In
1838° the constitution was amended by general convention
and the amendments were adopted by popular vote. In
1850 it was again amended to make the judicial y elective ,
and in 1857 it was still further amended by restricting the
power of the legislature to contract debts beyond the sum
of L 150 000, to confer power to repeal corporate enact¬
ments and to require elections to the legislature by single
districts. The governor is elected for three years, and has
the usual powers and restrictions. He has now no power
to appoint judges or magistrates of any grade, except to fill
vacancies until the time of the stated election, fhe judi¬
ciary consists of five judges of the Supreme Court, elected
for fifteen years ; of one president and two associate judges
for each Court of Common Pleas, elected for terms of five
years each ; and of local and municipal magistrates. 1 he
Supreme Court and Court of Common Pleas possess many
Pennsyl¬
vania.
398
PENNSYLVANIA.
Pennsyl¬
vania.
of the powers of courts of Chancery, and the judges of
Common Pleas also hold quarter sessions of the peace, and
an orphans’ and probate court.
The revenues of the state are derived from various forms
of taxation. The townships levy taxes for the support of
schools, and for the construction of roads. The counties
levy, collect, and disburse the taxes necessary to support
the administration of justice in matters confined to them¬
selves. The state levies a direct tax of three mills on a
dollar upon all property at the value fixed by assessments ;
but a still larger sum of its revenues is obtained from special
taxes. The following sums were raised in 1857 :—
General tax.. L.323,890
Canal and railroad tolls  272,825
Tax on bank dividends and corporations ... 115,517
Tax on tonnage and passengers  42,617
Tax on licenses  80,983
Various special taxes  141,365
Total revenues L.977,197
The expenditures of the state in 1857 were L. 1,126,516.
The public debt at the close of 1857 was L.8,308,695 ;
from which sum the sale of the public works in effect takes
L.2,200,000, leaving the actual debt L.6,108,695. By the
triennial assessments the valuation of all property in the
state, real and personal, was as follows :—
Valuation of 1851.. L.102,687,506
1854  110,777,315
” 1857  118,493,800
The religion of the population is chiefly Protestant,
though many Catholic churches exist. With the exception
of a preponderance of Friends, or Quakers, in Philadelphia
and the eastern part of the state, there is nothing to dis¬
tinguish the religious character of the population as a whole.
The principal sects are Methodists, Presbyterians, Lu¬
therans, and Baptists.
The educational system of the state was re-organized and
greatly invigorated by the legislature in 1838, which gave
the counties power to establish free schools; and again in
1854, when all were required to support free schools. An
energetic and well-directed system of teaching and super¬
vision for these free schools is now fully established, with
an efficient county and state superintendence. A sum of
L.40,000 annually is distributed by the state for the sup¬
port of these schools, and a larger sum is raised by local
tax. The tax levied for school purposes in the year ending
June 1, 1857, was L.323,037 ; and for buildings, L.68,680.
Of this there was—
Collected and expended within the year...., L.319,733
Received from the state   34,317
Cost of instruction L.236,949
Cost of fuel, &c   35,952
Cost of school-houses, &c  92,559
Total cost, 1856-7 L.365,460
The number of children taught for the same year was
541,247, and the number of teachers 12,475. In all this
statement the county of Philadelphia is not included. A
system of academies was established previous to the adop¬
tion of the free school system, one in each county receiving
an appropriation of money from the state ; but the appro¬
priations are not continued, and that class of institutions is
not well sustained. There are ten flourishing colleges,
seven theological schools, four medical colleges, and one
law school in the state,—all incorporated, and generally
flourishing, though sustained by their own revenues and
endowments alone. The university of Pennsylvania at
Philadelphia has 12 professors, 129 students, and 1269
alumni. Jefferson college has 10 professors, 222 students,
and 1492 alumni. The ten colleges have together 10
colleges, 73 professors, 886 students, 5191 alumni;
7 theological schools, 19 professors, 184 students; 4 medical Pennsyl-
colleges, 31 professors, 1182 students. vania.
The district bordering on the Delaware River and Bay,
which subsequently became the province of Pennsylvania,
and its appendage of the three Lower Counties, received its
first colony from Sweden. An extensive scheme of coloniza¬
tion for the New World was set on foot in Sweden and Fin¬
land nearly at the date of the earliest colonization of New
England; and in 1627 a body of Swedes and Finns settled
on the Delaware, going as far northwards as the locality of
Philadelphia. They made little progress, though a deserving
people, and not particularly unfortunate, until visited in a
hostile manner by the Dutch from New York in 1655;
and submitting without a contest, they passed, with all
other possessions of the Dutch, under British rule in 1664.
In 1681 the whole district west of the Delaware was granted
to William Penn ; and in 1682 Penn founded Philadelphia,
and planted his colony near it. Under this charter from
Charles II. the three Lower Counties were retained under
the same governor and proprietor until 1699, when the
Lower Counties were granted a separate legislature, though
retained under the same governor until the revolution in
1776. The colony planted by Penn was remarkably for¬
tunate in its relations with the Indians. His justice and
firmness, with the high character of the body of the colo¬
nists, who were all Friends, or Quakers, preserved a peace
with them unbroken during the whole colonial period pre¬
vious to the French war of 1755. Subsequently the origi¬
nal colonists, or Friends, were regarded with uniform
kindness by the Indians ; though Braddock’s defeat and the
Wyoming massacre attested the identity of the savage
tribes of this colony with others of their race. In the con¬
test of the colonies with the mother country, Pennsylvania
bore an active but not an embittered part. The most pro¬
sperous of the colonies, and in a central position, it became
the seat of the congresses held by the colonies both before
and after the decision of the struggle. Franklin, Rush, and
Robert Morris represent the moderate yet firm views of
Pennsylvania at that time. Independence was proclaimed
here ; and the seat of the general government of the United
States remained here until 1800. A large emigration from
Germany settled in the counties near Philadelphia before
and subsequent to the revolution, and these have retained
their language and national characteristics much longer than
like colonies of Germans elsewhere. The defeat of Brad-
dock, and the revolutionary battles of Brandywine and Ger¬
mantown, with the memorable hardships of Washington’s
winter encampment at Valley Forge, are prominent histo¬
rical incidents.
The population is derived from several sources. Traces
of the original Swedish colony remain, but the Friends con¬
stituted nine-tenths of the population for more than half a
century. The large German and Irish emigrations peopled
the middle and western parts next, and at the revolution
began that indiscriminate interchange of populations which
now characterizes all the States. The following statistics
are from the enumerations at the several dates of the
national census:—Population of Pennsylvania in 1790,
434,373 ; 1800,602,545; 1810,810,091; 1820,1,049,313;
1830, 1,347,672; 1840, 1,724,033; 1850, 2,311,786.
The classification of the population in 1850 was, 1,142,734
white males, 1,115,426 white females; 25,369 coloured
males, and 28,257 coloured females. Thirteen per cent,
were of foreign birth : 151,723 in Ireland ; 44,260 in Eng¬
land, Scotland, and Wales; 78,592 in Germany ; and 4083
in France. Of paupers there were 11,551 ; 1145 deaf and
dumb, 1914 insane, and 1467 idiotic. There were
408,497 families, inhabiting 386,216 dwellings. In 1857
there were returned 603,407 taxables, which number would,
at the ratio of former years, place the total population of the
state in 1857 at about 3,400,000. (l. b.)
PEN
PENNY. See Coinage.
PENNYWEIGHT. See Coinage ; also Weights and
Measures.
PENOBSCOT, a river in the United States. (See
Maine.)
PENON DE VELEZ, a fortified town of Morocco, be¬
longing to Spain, stands on a lofty rock on the S. side of
the Straits of Gibraltar, 80 miles S.E. of Ceuta. It is built
in the form of an amphitheatre, with two principal streets;
and contains several churches, a bomb-proof magazine,
storehouses, and a state prison. It was founded in 1508 by
Pedro of Navarre; captured by the Moors in 1522 ; but
recovered in 1664 by the Spaniards, who have since re¬
tained it.
PENRITH, a market-town of England, county of Cum¬
berland, in a fertile valley watered by the Eamont and
Lowther, which unite about a mile below the town, 17
miles S.S.E. of Carlisle, and 282 N.N.W. of London. It
stands at the foot of a hill, on the verge of the county, and
of the district called Inglewood Forest. The principal
street extends along the road from Kendal to Carlisle ; and
many of the houses are handsome, most of them being
built of red freestone. On a knoll to the W. of the town
stand the ruins of the castle, which give to Penrith a very
picturesque appearance. It was built by the Nevilles dur¬
ing the wars of the Roses, and dismantled in the civil
war by the parliamentary party. The parish church of
Penrith is a large and handsome though plain edifice in the
Grecian style. It was almost entirely rebuilt in 1722. In
the churchyard is a singular ancient monument, called the
Giant’s Grave, consisting of two pyramidal stones 11£ feet
high, and 15 feet distant from each other, which are said to
have been set up in memory of a giant named Owen Coesa-
rius. A new Episcopal church, in the style of the thirteenth
century, was built at Penrith in 1850, and forms one of the
principal ornaments of the town. There are also places ot
worship belonging to Independents, Wesleyan Methodists,
United Presbyterians, Quakers, and Roman Catholics. I he
town has several schools, a mechanics’ institute, a reading-
room, and a savings-bank. To the N. of Penrith is a
race-course, on which races take place annually in October ;
and about a mile from the town, in the same direction,
stands a square tower called the Beacon, commanding a
beautiful and extensive view. The people of Penrith are
chiefly employed in agriculture and weaving; some retail
trade is also carried on. Since the opening ot the Lancas¬
ter and Carlisle Railway, on which Penrith is a station, the
place has risen very much in importance ; and many hand¬
some new houses and shops have been built. The town is
a place of considerable antiquity, and it formerly played a
conspicuous part in the border warfare. It was taken by
the Scots several times in the fourteenth century, and in
1715 and 1745 was occupied by the insurgents. In the
vicinity there are many relics of antiquity ; and among the
best, King Arthur’s Round Table, an inclosed circular area,
probably intended for martial exeixises, which is called by
Sir Walter Scott,
“ Red Penrith’s table round
For feats of chivalry renowned.”
Pop. (1851)6668.
PENRYN, a municipal and parliamentary borough and
market-town of England, county of Cornwall, stands on the
slope of a hill, in a sheltered, rich, and fertile valley, at the
head of a branch of Falmouth harbour, 30 miles S.S.W. of
Bodmin, and 266 W.S.W. of London. It consists of one
broad main street crossed by other smaller ones ; and the
principal buildings are the town-hall, market-house, Epis¬
copal church, Wesleyan and Baptist churches, national and
grammar schools. Manufactures of paper, woollen stud’s,
arsenic, and gunpowder are carried on; and there is aquay be¬
tween the two branches of Falmouth harbour. Some trade
PEN
is carried on with the mining district of Redruth ; and gra¬
nite is exported in considerable quantities. Five cattle ^
fairs are held annually at Penryn. The borough unites
with Falmouth in sending two members to Parliament.
Pop. (1851) 3959.
PENS, Peins, or Pencz, Gregor, a German painter
and engraver, was born at Nuremberg about 1500. His
knowledge of art was obtained under very favourable cir¬
cumstances. He first became the pupil of his fellow-
townsman Albert Durer. Then having removed to Rome,
he softened and refined his style of painting by studying the
works of Raphael, and acquired the art of engraving by
attending the instructions and aiding the labours of Marc-
antonio Raimondi. How much advantage he received
from these great masters is shown by his numerous prints,
which are so well known in England, and by his his¬
torical pictures, which are preserved in the galleries of
Vienna, Munich, Nuremberg, and Berlin. The death of
Pens took place about 1550.
PENS. The word -pen, in Holy Scripture, refers either
to an iron style or to a reed; the latter being the earliest
form of pen used for writing on papyrus with a fluid ink.
Reed pens are still in use in the East, and are said to be
better adapted to the Arabic character than quill pens.
Quills came into use about the fifth century, and continue
to maintain their ground, notwithstanding the general em¬
ployment of metallic pens. The goose furnishes the chief
supply, vast flocks being maintained in Russia and Poland
for the sake of their quills, of which as many as 27,000,000
have been received in this country in one year from St
Petersburg alone. The swan, the crow, the ostrich, the
turkey, and other birds occasionally contribute. As there
is still a considerable demand for quill pens, a few words on
the method of preparing them will not be out of place. 1 he
quills, as imported, are tough and soft in texture, and covered
with a membrane, so that they will not make a clean slit;
the vascular membrane which adheres to the internal sur¬
face of the barrel also renders them opaque. 1 hese de¬
fects are got rid of by the operations of quill-dressing or
quill-dutching. The quills are first sorted into primes,
seconds, and pinions. They are next plunged into hot
sand, which causes the interior lining membrane to shrive
up and detach itself from the barrel, and so far loosens the
outer membrane that it can be removed readily bysciaping
with a sharp instrument. The heat also dries up the oi y
matter of the quill, and renders the barrel transparent, like
fine thin horn. By dipping the barrels in dilute nitric aci
they become hardened, and acquire a fine ye ow in . n
some cases the quills are exposed to the action of steam,
and scraped under the edge of a fine instrument which
flattens and apparently spoils them; but they are
to shape by exposure to a moderate heat.
The first attempt at metallic pens was to arm the points
of quill pens with metallic mbs. Pens have also been
constructed of horn, tortoise-shell, and glass. Small pieces
of precious stones, such as the diamond and the ruby,
have been embedded in the points of horn and tortouie-
shlll pens by pressure. Thin pieces of go d or other
metal have also been attached to tortoise-shell. Nibs of
rubv set in fine gold have also been employed; and to
prevent injury to the points, the ink-stand was lined with
india-rubber. Y Dr Wollaston constructed pens with two
flat si ps of gold placed at an angle, and tipped with rho¬
dium Messrs Wiley of Birmingham have pens of gold,
nalladium, gold and silver, and silver, pointed with the na¬
tive alloys of iridium and osmium. Such pens have the
advantage of presenting the writing always of the same
character and of not being corroded by the ink; they aie,
however, too costly for common use.
Steel pens were introduced about the year 1803 ; but
many of the improvements which led to their present ex-
399
Pens.
400
PEN
PEN
Pensacola tensive use were introduced by Mr Gillott of Birmingham
.11 and by Mr Perry of London. Birmingham is the chief
Pensionary geat o^. ^ manufacture ; the steel is rolled for the pur-
pose at Sheffield into thin sheets, and these are cut into
strips about three feet long and four inches broad. After
annealing, the scales are removed by pickling in dilute sul¬
phuric acid, when the strips are again rolled to the required
thickness. From these strips blanks or flats are cut out
by means of a stamping-press, the fibres of the steel being
made to take the direction of the length of the pen. After
this the hole which terminates the slit is pierced, and the
superfluous metal is removed. The blanks are now an¬
nealed in a muffle, and the maker’s name is stamped on each
blank by means of a small punch. The next operation is
to make the flaps concave for nib-pens, and to form the
barrel for barrel-pens : this is done at a stamping-press with
an appropriate bed and punch. The pens are next inclosed
in an iron box raised to a red heat, and quenched in oil,
which hardens them. The adhering oil is got rid of by
agitating the pens in a tin-plate barrel. They are tempered
at a moderate heat, and are placed in a revolving cylinder
with sand, which restores the natural colour of the steel.
The nib is next ground upon a small emery wheel, alter
which the slit is made by means of a chisel with a flat side
fixed to the bed of a press, the descending screw of which
has a cutter which accurately corresponds with the chisel.
The pens are coloured brown or blue by placing them in a
revolving cylinder over a charcoal fire, and removing them
as soon as the film of oxide of the desired colour is formed.
A gloss is given to them by immersing them in a solution
of lac in naphtha, after which they are dried by heat,
counted, and made up in boxes. Steel pens are liable to
be corroded by the ink, a defect which does not apply to
the pens of thin laminated zinc recently introduced. Pens
have also been formed of the new metal aluminum, and
pen-holders have been made of the same light material,
which, however, is too costly for such common applications.
Pens have been made of vulcanized india-rubber, the in¬
gredients for which are first rolled out in a thin sheet of
the thickness of a strong quill, then cut into strips of the
width suitable for pens, next heated between two surfaces
of glass, one convex and the other concave, and raised in
the course of six hours from the temperature of 230° to
305°. This effects the combination of the ingredients, and
gives a permanent form to the semi-cylinders, which are
made into lengths, and formed into pens by appropriate
cutting instruments.
Numerous patents are taken out every year for pens,
pen-holders, lead-holders, and pencil-cases; so numerous,
indeed, that a list of them for the last few years would oc¬
cupy considerable space. Purchasers are fond of novelty ;
and novelty, however slight, is sure to claim the protection
of a patent. It is not creditable to our inventive skill
that in so copious a patent list so very small a number
of inventions should retain a permanent hold on the
public. C0,
PENSACOLA, the capital of Escambia county, in the
state of Florida, North America, stands on the W. shore of
Pensacola Bay, about 10 miles from the Gulf of Mexico, and
64 E. from Mobile. The harbour is safe, but admits only
vessels of light draught. The town is regularly built; and
contains several churches, a market-house, court-house, and
custom-house. About 6 miles below the town, and 5 from
the entrance of the harbour, is a U.S. navy station, cover¬
ing nearly 80 acres of ground, and surrounded by a high
brick wall. Pop. of town (1850) 2164.
Pensacola Bay, an inlet of the Gulf of Mexico, at the
mouth of the Escambia River, is about 27 miles in length
by 12 in extreme breadth.
PENSIONARY, or Pensioner, a person who has an
appointment or yearly sum, payable during life, by way of
acknowledgment, and charged on the estate of a prince, Penshurst
company, or particular person. At the universities of Cam- II
bridge and Dublin the term pensioner is applied to those l>entateuch
students who live at their own expense, and who are at Ox-
ford called commoners.
The term Grand Pensionary, was formerly applied to the
first minister of the states of Holland, and the first minister
of the regency of each city in that kingdom was called a
Pensionary.
PENSHURST, a village of England, county of Kent,
on the Eden, near its confluence with the Medway, 6 miles
W.S.W. of Tunbridge, It has a fine old church with
many interesting monuments, a Baptist chapel, and two
national schools. In the vicinity is an ancient mansion called
Penshurst Place, the birthplace of Sir Philip Sidney and
Algernon Sidney. Manufactures of paper are carried on; and
there are stone quarries in the neighbourhood. Pop. 1628.
PENTACHORD, a musical scale consisting of five
conjunct diatonic degrees. Also an instrument of five
strings, according to Martianus Cappella and other writers.
Julius Pollux ascribes its invention to the Scythians.
PENTAGON. See Geometry.
PENTAMETER (ttlyre, jive, perpov, a measure), a pecu¬
liar kind of verse, consisting, as the name implies, of five
feet or metres. The first and second feet may be either
dactyls or spondees ; the third is always a spondee; and
the two last anapests. A pentameter line subjoined to an
hexameter constitutes what is called elegiac verse. Nu¬
merous specimens of this verse are to be found among the
Greek and Latin classics. Callinus, Tyrtaeus, Mimnermus,
Theognis, and Solon, in Greece; and Catullus, Propertius,
Tibullus, and Ovid, in Rome, were the most celebrated of
the ancient elegiac writers. Goethe and Schiller have at¬
tempted the introduction of this species of versification into
German poetry ; and the characterization of the hexameter
and pentameter distich by the latter poet is well known
through Coleridge’s version :—
“ In the hexameter rises the fountain’s silvery column,
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.”
PENTATEUCH (ncvrarenxos, from TreVre, five, and
reCxos, « volume) is the title given to the five books of
Moses,—viz., Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and
Deuteronomy. The division of the Book of the Law
(rninn “isp), as the Jews called the Pentateuch, into
five books is alluded to in the works of Josephus and Philo.
It seems that this division was first made by the Alexan¬
drian critics. In Jewish writers are found statements in¬
dicating that the Pentateuch was formerly divided into
seven portions (comp. Jarchi, ad Proverb, ix. 1; ibique
Breithaupt). In the Jewish canon the Pentateuch is kept
somewhat distinct from the other sacred books of the Old
Testament, because, considered with reference to its con¬
tents, it is the book of books of the ancient covenant. It
is the basis of the religion of the Old Testament, and of
the whole theocratical life. The term laiv characterizes
the principal substance of the Pentateuch, but its real
kernel and central point is the foundation of the Jewish
theocracy, the historical demonstration of that peculiar
communion into which the God of heaven and earth en¬
tered with one chosen people, through the instrumentality
of Moses; the preparation for, and the development of,
that communion; the covenant relation of Jehovah and
Israel, from its first rise down to its complete termination.
In considering the Pentateuch, the first question which
arises is—Who was its author ? It is of great importance
to hear, first, what the book itself says on this subject.
The Pentateuch does not present itself as an anonymous
production. On the contrary, it speaks most clearly on
this subject. According to Exod. xvii. 14, Moses was
commanded by God to write the victory over the Ama-
PENTATEUCH.
401
Pentateuch lekitesi in the book (1i3D3): This passage shows that the
i ^ y account to be inserted was intended to form a portion ot a
more extensive work, with which the reader is supposed to
be acquainted. It also proves that Moses, at an early
period of his public career, was filled with the idea ot
leaving to his people a written memorial of the Divine
guidance, and that he fully understood the close and ne¬
cessary connection of an authoritative law with a written
code. It is therefore by no means surprising that the
observation repeatedly occurs, that Moses wrote down the
account of certain events (Exod. xxiv. 4, 7 ; xxxiv. 27, 28 ;
Num. xxxiii. 2). Especially important are the statements
in Deut. i. 5 ; xxviii. 58. In Deut. xxxi. 9, 24, 30, the
whole work is expressly ascribed to Moses as the author,
including the poem in Deut. xxxii. It may be made a
question whether the hand of a later writer, who finished
the Pentateuch, is perceptible from ch. xxxi. 24 (comp,
xxxiii. 1, and xxxiv.), or whether the words in xxxi. 24-30
are still the words of Moses. In the former case we have
two witnesses, viz., Moses himself, and the continuator of
the Pentateuch; in the latter case, which seems to us the
more likely, we have the testimony of Moses alone. Mo¬
dern criticism has raised many objections against these
statements of the Pentateuch relative to its own origin.
Many critics suppose that they can discover in the Pen¬
tateuch indications that the author intended to make him¬
self known as a person different from Moses. The most
important objection is the following,—that the Pentateuch,
speaking of Moses, always uses the third person, bestows
praise upon him, and uses concerning him expressions of
respect. The Pentateuch even exhibits Moses quite ob¬
jectively in the blessing recorded in Deut. xxxiii. 4, 5.
To this objection we reply, that the use of the third person
proves nothing. The later Hebrew writers also speak of
themselves in the third person. We might adduce similar
instances from the classical authors, as Caesar, Xenophon,
and others. The use of the third person, instead of the
first, prevails also among oriental authors. In addition to
this we should observe, that the nature of the book itself
demands the use of the third person, in reference to Moses,
throughout the Pentateuch. This usage entirely corre¬
sponds with the character both of the history and ot the
law contained in the Pentateuch. By the use of the word
I, the objective character of this history would have been
destroyed, and the law of Jehovah would have been brought
down to the sphere of human subjectivity. If we consider
that the Pentateuch was destined to be a book of Divine
revelation, in which God exhibited to his people the exem¬
plification of his providential guidance, we cannot expect
that Moses, by whom the Lord had communicated his
latest revelations, should be spoken of otherwise than in
the third person. In the poetry contained in Deut. xxxiii.
4, Moses speaks in the name of the people, which he per¬
sonifies and introduces as speaking. The expressions in
Exod. xi. 3, and Num. xii. 3 and 7, belong entirely to the
context of history, and to its faithful and complete relation;
consequently it is by no means vain boasting that is there
expressed, but admiration of the Divine mercy glorified in
the people of God. In considering these passages, we
must also bear in mind the far greater number of other
passages which speak of the feebleness and the sins of Moses.
It is certain that the author of the Pentateuch asserts
himself to be Moses. The question then arises, Whether
it is possible to consider this assertion to be true whether
Moses can be admitted to be the author ? In this question
is contained another, viz., Whether the Pentateuch forms
such a continuous whole that it is possible to ascribe it to
one author ? This question has been principally discussed
in modern criticism. In various manners it has been tried
to destroy the unity of the Pentateuch, and to resolve its-
constituent parts into a number of documents and frag-
VOL. XVII.
ments. Eichhorn and his followers assert that Genesis Pentateuch
only is composed of several ancient documents. This as- v*-'
sertion is still reconcileable with the Mosaical origin of the
Pentateuch. But Vater and others allege that the whole
Pentateuch is composed of fragments ; from which it neces¬
sarily follows that Moses was not the author of the whole.
Modern critics are, however, by no means unanimous in
their opinions. Ewald, in his history of the people of
Israel (Geschichte des Volkes Israel, vol. i., Gottingen
1843), asserts that there were seven different authors con¬
cerned in the Pentateuch. On the other hand, the in¬
ternal unity of the Pentateuch has been demonstrated in
many able essays. The attempts at division are especially
supported by an appeal to the prevailing use of the differ¬
ent names of God in various portions of the work; but the
arguments derived from this circumstance have been found
insufficient to prove that the Pentateuch was written by
different authors. The inquiry concerning the unity of the
Pentateuch is intimately connected with its historical cha¬
racter. If there are in the Pentateuch decided contradic¬
tions, or different contradictory statements of one and the
same fact, not only its unity, but also its historical truth,
would be negatived. On the other hand, if the work is to
be considered as written by Moses, the whole style and in¬
ternal veracity of the Pentateuch must correspond with the
character of Moses. Considerate critics, who are not under
the sway of dogmatic prejudices, find that the passages
adduced to prove that the Pentateuch was written after the
time of Moses by no means support such a conclusion;
and that a more accurate examination of the contents of
the separate portions goes to demonstrate that the work
originated in the age of Moses.
The general arguments for and against the authenticity
of the Pentateuch which remain to be considered are the
following:—
1. The history of the art of writing among the Hebrews
has often been appealed to in order to disprove the authen¬
ticity of the Pentateuch. It is true that in our days no
critic of good repute for learning ventures any longer to
assert that the art of writing was invented subsequent to
the Mosaical age (Ewald’s Geschichte des Volkes Israel,
p. 64, sq.) ; but it is questioned whether the Hebrews were
acquainted with that art. It is said that a work of sue i
extent as the Pentateuch was beyond the means of the
primitive modes of writing then existing. But various tes¬
timonies, not merely in the Pentateuch itself, but also de¬
rived from other sources, from the period immediately sub¬
sequent to that of Moses, prove that a knowledge of the
art of writing was widely diffused among ie . ,
fromn Judges vfii. 14). And if there was any knowledge
of th£ art, its application would entirely depend upon the
particular circumstances of a given period. Some writes
seem to entertain the opinion that the materials ^ 'vrU g
were yet, in the days of Moses, too ciumsy for the execu
tion of larger works. This opinion is refuted by the tact
El Hebrews became aeqaain.ed, m Mosmea
period, with the use of very good materials for wntmg-suc^i
L papyrus, byssus, parchment, &c. (“mp. Herodotus v
ro ^ There are, indeed, mentioned in the I entateuen
some more solid materials for writing such as tabks of
cfrmp tFxod xxiv. 12 ; xxxi. 18; xxxiv. 1, 6zc.)nut tms
does not prove that in those days nothing was written ex¬
cept upon stone. Stone was employed, on account of its
durability, {^^fof^Pentateuch has also been the
submet of many discussions. It has frequently been urged
that it differs less from that of the later books of the Old
Testament than might have been expected if this work
proceeded from Moses. In this objection the characteristic
stability of the oriental languages has been overlooked
The oriental languages are not, in the same degree as the
O E
402 PENTATEUCH.
Tentateuch occidental, in a state of development and constant change.
It is also overlooked that the Pentateuch itself, by its high
authority, exerted a constant influence upon the whole sub¬
sequent religious literature of the Hebrews. And we do
not know any other literature of the ancient Hebrews except
the religious. In addition to this, we must observe that,
nevertheless, the style of the Pentateuch has its distinctive
features of antiquity. It contains, for example, a number
of characteristic grammatical formations ; it contains also
words which do not occur in the other parts of the Old
Testament; as well ascertain characteristic pecu¬
liar to the style of that time. Others have vainly endea¬
voured to find in the Pentateuch, and especially in Deuter¬
onomy, vestiges of a later style. The instances produced
by the opponents of the Mosaical origin of the Pentateuch
do not stand examination, and are therefore unable to
counterbalance the weight of argument deducible from the
antique expressions in the Mosaical writings.
3. The historical contents of the Pentateuch are of very
great importance in our present inquiry, because they con¬
stantly bear testimony in favour of its age and authenticity,
and lead to the following important results:—We find, in
later times, no period which we could deem capable of pro¬
ducing the Pentateuch as a whole: for this reason, the op¬
ponents of its authenticity are obliged to ascribe the dif¬
ferent portions of the work to widely different periods. If
we allow that the apostles were such persons as they assert
themselves to be, we must admit also that the very frequent
apostolical allusions to the Pentateuch are a high sanction
to the work; and we cannot overlook the fact, that every
opinion which, with greater or less decision, finds in the
Pentateuch a work of fraud, enters into an unavoidable
conflict with the New Testament itself.
In the remote times of Jewish and Christian antiquity,
we find no vestiges of doubt as to the genuineness of the
Mosaical books. The Gnostics, indeed, opposed the Pen¬
tateuch, but attacked it merely on account of their dogma¬
tical opinions concerning the Law, and Judaism in general;
consequently they did not impugn the authenticity, but
merely the Divine authority of the Law. Heathen authors
alone, as Celsus and Julian, represented the contents of the
Pentateuch as being mythological, and paralleled them
with pagan mythology. In the middle ages, but not
earlier, we find some very concealed critical doubts in the
works of some Jews—as Isaac. Ben Jasos, who lived in the
eleventh century, and Aben Ezra. After the Reformation,
it was sometimes attempted to demonstrate the later origin
of the Pentateuch. Such attempts were made by Spinoza,
Richard Simon, Le Clerc, and Van Dale; but these critics
were not unanimous in their results. Against them wrote
Heidegger (Exercitationes Biblicce, i. 246, sq.); Witsius
(Miscellanea Sacra, i. 103, sq.); and Carpzov (Intro-
ductio, i. 38, sq.) In the period of English, French, and
German deism, the Pentateuch was attacked rather by
jests than by arguments. Attacks of a more scientific
nature were made about the end of the eighteenth century.
But these were met by such critics as John David Michaelis
and Eichhorn, who energetically and effectually defended
the genuineness of the Pentateuch. These critics, how¬
ever, on account of their own false position, did as much
harm as good to the cause.
A new epoch of criticism commences about the year
1805. This was produced by Vater’s Commentary and
De Wette’s Beitrage zur Binleitung in das Alte Testa¬
ment. Vater embodied all the arguments which had been
adduced against the authenticity of the Petateuch, and
applied to the criticism of the sacred books the principles
which Wolf had employed with reference to the Homeric
poems. He divided the Pentateuch into fragments, to
each of which he assigned its own period, but referred the
whole generally to the age of the Assyrian or Babylonian
exile. Since the days of Vater, a series of the most differ- Pentateuch
ent hypotheses has been produced by German critics
about the age of the Pentateuch, and that of its constituent
sections. No one critic seems fully to agree with any
other; and frequently it is quite evident that the opinions
advanced are destitute of any sure foundation—that they
are quite arbitrary, and produced by merely subjective
motives. We will illustrate this by a few examples relative
to the Pentateuch as a whole.
Schumann makes Ezra the author of the law. Accord¬
ing to A. T. Hartmann, the separate portions of the law
sprang up gradually, some of them as late as the exile;
but he does not show by what circumstances they were
combined into a whole. According to Dr Ammon, the
Pentateuch was planned by Moses; was gradually con¬
tinued down to the times of Solomon; was entirely for¬
gotten during the period of idolatry; was re-discovered
under the reign of Josiah ; and was then re-touched, and
edited under the name of Moses. Von Bohlen urges the
fact mentioned in the Second Book of Kings (ch. xxii.) as
if it were explanatory of the origin of Deuteronomy; but
he considers some portions to be of a much later origin.
He asserts that the Pentateuch was partly written after the
exile, that it was gradually developed, and was brought to
a conclusion in the age of Christ. According to the latest
statements of De WTette, in his Binleitung in das Alte Tes¬
tament, § 157, sq., the Elohim portions were written in
the age of Samuel and Saul, the Jehovah portions nearly
about the same period, but Deuteronomy much later, under
Josiah. Ewald assigns seven authors to the Pentateuch,
who, however, wrote in very different periods. The first,
he supposes, wrote in the days of Samson; the second in
the reign of Solomon; the third in the reign of Elijah, &c.
The critical doubts respecting the authenticity of the
Pentateuch have produced in modern times several works
in defence of its genuineness; such as Kanne’s Bibhscher
Untersuchungen, 2 vols., 1820; the observations by Jahn,
Rosenmilller, and Bleek; Ranke’s Untersuchungen ilber
den Pentateuch, 2 vols.; Hengstenberg’s Beitrdge zur
Einleitung, vols. 2 and 3; Havernick’s Einleitung in das
Alte Testament, vol. 1; Drechsler, Ueber die Einheit und
Authentic der Genesis; Konig’s Alt-testamentliche Studien,
2d number; Sack’s Apolegetik, &c.
The most important commentaries and exegetical aids
for the explanation of the whole Pentateuch, and its con¬
stituent parts, are the following:—Calvini Bonfrerii Pen-
tateuchus Commentario lllustratus, 1625; Marckii Com-
mentarius in prcecipuas quasdam Pentateuchipartes, 1721;
Clerici Commentarius, 1710; Gerhardi Commentarius in
Genesin, 1693 ; Merceri Commentarius in Genesin, 1593 ;
Vater, Commentar iiber den Pentateuch, 1802, sq., 3 vols.;
Rosenmulleri Scholia, 3d ed., 1821, sq.; Schumann, Pen-
tateuchus Hebraice et Greece, tom. 1, 1829; Von Bohlen,
Die Genesis ubersetzt und erkldrt, Konigsberg, 1825;
Tide, Das erste Buck Mosis, &c., 1st vol., 1836; Tuch,
Commentar uber die Genesis, 1838, &c. The following
are the principal English works on the Pentateuch :—Ains¬
worth, Annotations on the Five Books of Moses, 1699;
Kidder, Commentary on the Five Books of Moses, 1713;
Parker, Bibliotheca Biblica, 1720, 1735; Jamieson, Cri¬
tical and Practical Exposition of the Pentateuch, 1748;
Robertson, Clavis Pentateuchi, 1770; Graves, Lectures
on the Pentateuch, 1815 ; The Pentateuch audits Assail¬
ants, by Dr W. T. Hamilton, 1852 ; Commentary on the
Pentateuch, by G. Townsend, 2 vols., 1849. There are
English translations of the following German works on the
Pentateuch. On the Genuineness of the Pentateuch, by E.
W. Hengstenberg, 2 vols., 1847 ; an Historico-Critical In¬
troduction to the Pentateuch, by H. A. Ch. Havernick, 1850;
and an Historical Introduction to the Old Testament, by
H. A. Ch. Havernick, 1852.
PEN
Pentathlon PENTATHLON (ttAtc, five, and a6\ov, the prize of
|| contest), signifies properly the contest of the five exercises,
Penza. anc} vvas a general designation given to the five Grecian
games of leaping, running, throwing the discus, throwing
the spear, and wrestling. This is the order in which, ac¬
cording to Bockh, these games followed each other in the
pentathlon. This was considered, after the pancratium, the
most beautiful of all athletic performances. It was called
by the Romans quinquertium.
PENTECOST (TLevT7]KO(TTr}, fiftieth) is the name given
in the New Testament to the “ Feast of Weeks,” or of
“Ingathering,” which was celebrated by the Jews on the
fiftieth day from the festival of the Passover; or seven
weeks from the 16th day of Nisan. It was a feast ot
thanksgiving for the harvest, and commenced immediately
after the Passover. It was one of the three great yearly
festivals in which all the males were required to appear
before God at the place of his sanctuary. Josephus states
that in his time great numbers of Jews resorted from every
quarter to Jerusalem to keep this festival. {Antiq. xiv.
13, 4; xvii. 10, 2 ; De Bell. Jud. ii. 3, 1.) This testi¬
mony affords corroboration of Acts ii. 1, 9-11 ; xx. 16 ;
1 Cor. xvi. 8, in which the same fact appears. The com¬
mencement of the Christian church on the day of Pente¬
cost attached a peculiar interest to this season, and it was
established as one of the great festivals in the fourth cen¬
tury. This day became one of the three baptismal seasons
(Tertull. De Baptis. c. 19 ; Hieron. in Zach. xiv. 8) ; and
it derives its name of Whitsunday, or white-Sunday, from
so many being clad in white on this the day of their bap¬
tism.
PENTLAND FIRTH, a channel separating the Ork¬
ney Islands from the coast of Caithness, and joining the
North Sea and the Atlantic. It is about 17 miles long
from E. to W., and 6 or 8 broad. At the eastern extre¬
mity, 4 miles N.E. of Duncansby Head, are the Pentland
Skerries, two islands, the largest of which has a lighthouse,
with two fixed lights. The depth of the strait varies from
10 to 40 fathoms ; and the current runs strongly to the E.,
with a velocity from 4 to 9 miles an hour.
Pentland Hills, a range of hills in Scotland, in the
counties of Edinburgh, Peebles, and Lanark, extending
from the distance of 4^- miles S. by W. of Edinburgh for
about 16 miles in a S.W. direction. They consist ot por¬
phyry, with boulders of granite and gneiss; are partially
cultivated, and afford good pasture for sheep. The highest
summit is East Carnethy Hill, near the middle of the range,
1878 feet above the sea.
PENUMBRA (pene, almost, umbra, a shade) is a par¬
tial shade observed between the perfect shadow and the full
light in an eclipse. As long as any part of the sun is visi¬
ble during a solar eclipse, the observer is in the penumbra,
and not in the umbra or shadow.
PENZA, a government of European Russia, lying be¬
tween N. Lat. 53. and 54., E. Long. 42. 20. and 45. 20.
It is bounded on the N. by the government of Nijni-
Novgorod, E. by that of Simbirsk, S. by that of Saratov,
and W. by that of Tambov. Length from E. to W., 170
miles; greatest breadth, 145 ; area, 14,670 square miles.
The surface is generally flat, or slightly undulating; and is
PEN
year 39,182,368 bushels of corn, and 1,569,186 bushels of
potatoes. The climate is healthy, and the summers are
mild and temperate ; but severe cold is frequently expe¬
rienced during the winter. Great attention is paid by the
inhabitants to the raising of cattle, sheep, and especially
horses ; and large quantities of bees are kept. Penza con¬
tained in 1849, 291,994 horses, 205,500 horned cattle,
494,314 sheep, and 190,348 swine. The principal mine¬
ral production of. the government is iron, of which there
are mines in the vicinity of Troitzk. Mill-stones are also
quarried ; and sulphur and vitriol are obtained. There are
few large manufacturing establishments ; but the peasants
in their cottages spin flax and hemp, weave large quanti¬
ties of coarse linen and woollen cloth, and prepare articles
of other kinds for their own use. There are, besides, blast¬
furnaces and iron-works, soap-works, glass-works, tanneries,
and distilleries, all of which, especially the last, are both
numerous and large. The trade is chiefly carried on by
land, especially with Nijni-Novgorod. Annual fairs and
markets are held at various places in the government. The
principal exports are corn, flour, honey, wax, brandy, soap,
timber, wool, leather, blankets, carpets, and potash. In re¬
spect of education, Penza is under the university of Kasan;
but the schools are neither numerous nor good. The only
printing-press in the government is entirely under the con¬
trol of the Crown. There are about 600 churches, 11 ^of
which are cathedrals, several convents, and about tO
Tartar mosques. The government is divided into 10 cir¬
cles, and contains 1,058,444 inhabitants
403
Penza
Penzance
Pop.
Penza  93,371
Insara 136,157
Saransk 112,620
Narovchat  87,558
Chembar 113,136
Pop.
Nijni-Lomov 112,282
Kerensk  83,246
Mokshansk,  86,072
Gorodischtche  116,151
Krasnosslobodsk... 117,851
Total  1,058,444
The most of the people belong to the Greek Church;
but there are also 41,210 Mohammedans, and a few Jews
and Roman Catholics. ,
Penza, the capital of the above government, stands at the
confluence of the River Penza with the Sura,-10 mi es
S.S.E. of Nijni-Novgorod, and 465 S.E. of Moscow,
occupies a beautiful situation on a hill, and is in a great part
built of wood, having numerous gardens within its precinc s.
Among its many churches there is a large stone cathe ra
It has several schools and benevolent institutions, the
residences of the civil governor and of the Bishop Penz
and Ssaranssk, &c. Tanning, soap-making, weavmg and
silk-making are carried on here ; and there are large ma a
zincs for com and salt. An active trade is car ed on in
corn; and an annual market is hek ( i om
Tulvd'l at which about L.9000 worth of goods is sold.
Sotl’Stha.own is aflne park wa a orchard and
“fENzl^rinrc^bor^’Indmarket-town
PEN in the county of Cornwall, stands on the
of England, ^ tie c®u"tJ ^ npes g.W. of Truro, and
TV w shore of. Mounts Day, mues o. « ,
981 W S.W. of London. It is the most westerly town
Trpat Britain and is beautifully placed along the cuiving
i -rrpflt. Dritain, aim r ^ princjpal streets,
shorGj encircled by rocky eminences* ^ 3^0 for the
crossed by low°ranges of hills, which in the S. form the four m nfU':n^ep’, lined with mean houses. The
watershed between the Volga and the Don. Numerous mostpai _ handsome building of granite in the Grecian
Sp surmounted by a cupola. There are two Episcopal
churches, one of which, recently built, is a fine granite edi-
fipp in the early English style, containing a pulpit made of
a sin'e block of granite. The town also contains places
1 ,in belomrino- to Methodists, Independents, Bap-
Ir Eoln CaSS, and Jews. The Royal Geological
Sociefy of Cornwall has its head-quarters here, where there
is a museum with a valuable collection of minerals. There
Volga
rivers water the country; but of these none are of any size
or importance, except the Sura and the Moksha, both
affluents of the Volga,—the latter rising in this government,
and the former in that of Saratov. There are also several
small lakes. The soil is fertile, producing corn, hemp, flax,
potatoes, and fruit. The extent of arable land in the go¬
vernment in 1849 was 3,962,008 acres; of meadow land,
1,251,249 acres ; of wood, 3,645,551 acres; and of waste
land, 389,029 acres. There were produced in the same
404
Penzing
II
Pepper.
P E N
is also here a natural history and antiquarian society, an
agricultural society, a literary institution, and a public
library. The town has a custom-house, ami a pier 600
feet long, with a lighthouse at the end. I he haibour,
however, is only suitable for small vessels. 1 he trade ot
the place is considerable : tin, copper, china clay, and fish,
being exported ; while iron, timber, hemp, hides, and tal¬
low are the chief articles of import. Fishery is actively
carried on in Penzance, pilchards being the fish chiefly
obtained ; and there are here tanneries and smelting-houses
for tin. The climate of Penzance is extremely mild, and
much less variable than that ot London. Fhe^mean tem¬
perature of summer is 60o,5., and ot winter 44 '66. Mar¬
kets are held twice a week, and there are three annual
fairs. The number of vessels registered at the port in
1857 was 81, aggregate tonnage 7299. In the same year
there entered the port 733 sailing-vessels, tonnage 45,338 ; t
and 72 steamers, tonnage 23,042: and there cleared 221
sailing-vessels, tonnage 14,092 ; and 1 steamer, tonnage 32.
The environs of the town are very beautiful; and many
interesting remains are to be seen in the neighbourhood.
A curious custom is observed in Penzance on the 23d and
28th of June, which is supposed to be a remnant of the
ancient sun-worship practised at the summer solstice.
After burning a number of tar barrels in conspicuous places,
they dance about with blazing torches, and on the follow¬
ing day festivities of a more quiet character are celebrated.
Penzance was destroyed by the Spaniards in 1695, and was
afterwards sacked by the parliamentary party under Fairfax
in 1646. Sir Humphry Davy was born here in 1778.
Pop. (1851) 9214.
PENZING, a town of Lower Austria, on the Wien, 3
miles W. of Vienna. It contains many fine villas, a parish
church, barracks, and a bathing establishment. Cotton and
silk stuffs are manufactured. Pop. 4135.
PEPIN D’HERISTAL, surnamed Le Gros, the ances¬
tor of the Carlovingian line of French kings, became “Mayor
of the Palace” in"679, and in that capacity was virtually
the head of the Frankish monarchy till his death in 714.
(See France.)
Pepin, surnamed Le Lref, or “ The Short,” was the
first king of France of the Carlovingian dynasty, and
grandson of the preceding. Having been installed in the
hereditary office of “ Mavor of the Palace,” he dethroned
Childeric HI. in 750, and caused himself to be consecrated
king in 752. He died in 768, leaving the crown to his
son Charlemagne. (See France.)
PEPLUM, or Peplus, was a large full robe or shawl
worn by Grecian women, and was much larger than eithei
the chlamys or pallium, as well as finer and thinner than
the latter. It was without sleeves, and was fastened by
a clasp. It was worn above the common dress, and fell
in rich folds around the person, sometimes, in the case
of women of rank, trailing upon the ground, as alluded to
by Homer, in his epithet of “ trailing-the-robe (eAKtcrt-
7re7rA.os), applied to the Trojan ladies. (//• vi. 442.) The
peplum was occasionally used to veil the head. It w'as
the most costly and ornamental of all the productions or
the loom, and the art of manufacturing it was entnely
oriental. The peplum was the robe of state ot Minerva
at Athens, with which her statue was solemnly invested
every five years at the panathenaea.
PEPPER, the English name of a genus of tropical
plants, and also of the fruit which is used as a condiment.
The most important of these is black pepper, the dried ripe
berries of Piper nigrum (Linn.), Nat. Ord. PiperacetB, a
shrubby, climbing plant, which has for ages been cultivated
in India. It has been introduced into the West Indies, tro¬
pical Africa, and South America, where it succeeds admir¬
ably. The earliest mention of pepper is by Hippocrates,
who employed and recommended it as a medicine. Pliny
PET
refers to it as a condiment; but it is doubtful if he could Peppa
have referred to the true pepper, as he declares that it has v—v—
neither strength nor taste to recommend it.
The short spike-shaped clusters of berries are produced
in great abundance, and when ripe the berries resemble
those of our common holly in size and colour, but they
lose their bright scarlet colour and smoothness in drying,
and become wrinkled and black. In this state we receive
them, and they are ground into the coarse grey powder
known at table as black pepper. White pepper is the pro¬
duce of the same plant, but in order to manufacture it, the
black wrinkled coats of the seeds are removed by soaking
and friction ; they are then somewhat smaller, perfectly
spherical, and of a light drab colour. It is ground to powder,
and used in a similar manner, and is by many preferred
in consequence ot its apparently superior appearance, but
it loses both strength and flavour by the manipulation.
Long pepper is the produce ot a distinct species, the Pipe)
longum of Linnaeus, or Chavica Roxburghii of Miquel, a
native of the Circar Mountains, w'here it is gatheied in its
wild state. It is also cultivated in some parts of India.
The time for gathering it is just before ripening, when the
fruits are very small, and are compactly pressed together
upon a small cylindrical spike, which, with the fruit, is
about an inch and a half in length, and a little thickei than
a quill: when dried it is of a light greyish colour. We ic-
ceive it from Bengal; but the quantity imported is incon¬
siderable, as its qualities are analogous to those of white
pepper. It enters into certain medicinal preparations, and
is a favourite in some culinary operations, particularly the
manufacture of pickles. Betel pepper, the leaf of vyhich is
so extensively used in India and its islands as a masticator},
is the produce of Piper Betel (Linn.), or Chavica Betel
of Miquel. It is not imported into Europe.^ Cubeb pepper
is the dried berries of Cubeba officinalis. I hey are rather
smaller and less wrinkled than those of black pepper, and
are of a dark brown colour. Cubeb pepper is extensively
used in medicine, and has been in high esteem from a 'dy
early period. It was employed by the Moors; and in
England, during the reign of Edward L, the London mer¬
chants held the right to levy a toll ot one fai thing pei
pound upon all cubebs carried over London Bridge, an
indication that even then this medicinal pepper constituted
an important article of commerce. In 1856 the imports
to the United Kingdom were 25^ tons, worth from L.5 to
L.6 per cwt. Cayenne pepper is a compound condiment,
the principal ingredient in which is the epidermis and pulp
of the common capsicum (Capsicum annuum, Linn., Nat.
Ord. Solanacece), a plant very extensively cultivated in
most tropical countries, but said to have been procured
originally from South America. 4 he best Cayenne peppei
is made in the West Indies. The berries, which are often
larger than an egg, although other varieties are scarcely
larger than a clove, are opened, and the seeds are taken out;
the scarlet epidermis and pulp are then well beaten up with
flour and salt into a paste, which is afterwards baked until
quite hard, and then ground into a coarse powder, which is
put into well-corked bottles for use. Other methods are
used, but this is the mode of preparing the much-prized West
India Cayenne pepper. The Neilgherry pepper, so highly
esteemed by East Indian epicures, is prepared in a similar
manner from the berries of a yellow variety of the same
species, which is cultivated for the purpose on the Neil-
cherry Hills. It is flavoured with cumin and other aro¬
matic seeds. The two last-mentioned condiments, though
so essentially different from the true peppers, pay the same
duty (6d. per lb. and 5 per cent.), and are included in the
same returns as the others, with the exception of cubeb
pepper, which, as a drug, is duty free. The quantity im¬
ported in 1856 was 4826 tons, worth L.224,746. Of this
enormous quantity, 2238 tons were re-exported. It was
PEP
PER
405
Pepys.
principally imported from British India diiect; but some
was also sent from the Dutch possessions in Java, and other
places.
Pepper is occasionally adulterated with farinaceous mat¬
ter, such as starch or powdered rice ; and bone-dust, known
to the trade as “ ivory-dust,” is sometimes used to adul¬
terate white pepper. An adulterate for pepper, under the
name of “ P.D.” {i.e., pepper-dust), is manufactured from
rape or linseed cake, mustard dross, and Cayenne peppei.
(See “Blue-book” on Adulteration of Food, &c., 1856.)
PEPYS, Samuel, author of-the well-known Diary
which bears his name, was descended from the Pepyses of
Cambridgeshire, and was born on the 23d of Februaiy
1632. His family had some pretensions to gentility, but
his father exercised the humble trade of a tailor in the city
of London. Passing from St Paul s school in 1650, young
Pepys became a sizar in Trinity College, Cambridge, but
removed shortly after to Magdalen College. The only
record we possess of his university career is contained in
a memorandum of discipline entered in the Register-book
of his college, where we read how Samuel and one Hind
“ Were solemnly admonished for having been scandalously
overserved with drink ye night before.” The next notice
we obtain of his progress is in October 1655, when we
discover that he has married a girl of fifteen fresh from a
convent. As this young lady had more ot pedigree than
portion, Pepys was glad to accept of an asylum in the family
of his cousin, Sir Edward Montagu, afterwards Earl of
Sandwich, a gentleman who proved his fast friend through
life. He attended his patron on his expedition to the
Sound in March 1658, and on his return received a clerk¬
ship connected with the Exchequer. It was about this
time that Pepys began his interesting Diary, which he
continued without interruption from 1st January 1659-60
for upwards of nine years, when defective vision compelled
him to desist. His new appointment of Clerk of the Acts ot
the navy, in June 1660, brought his valuable business
talents into notice, and he soon gained the confidence and
esteem of the Duke of York, then Lord High Admiral. The
intelligence and energy which Pepys brought to bear upon
the reformation of the affairs of the navy, were attended
with the best results during the critical times consequent
upon the Dutch war. The plague visited the metropolis
in 1665, but Pepys courageously stood by his post when
every branch of the service was completely deseited. 1 he
fire of London followed ; and no man did more to anest
the progress of that calamity than the Clerk of the Acts.
On the resignation of the Duke of York in 1673, upon the
passing of the Test Act, Pepys was appointed by his Ma¬
jesty Charles II. to the important post of Secretary to the
Admiralty. His close connection with the late Lord High
Admiral was like to involve the new secretary in a share
of the odium to which that nobleman was exposed. ^Pepys
and Sir Anthony Deane were committed to the Tower
on the 22d of May 1679, on the charge of being secret
enemies of the Protestant cause, and of maintaining a clan¬
destine correspondence with the French government ic-
specting the condition of the English navy. They had to
find security in L.30,000; but the foul depositions were
shortly afterwards withdrawn, and the prisoners discharge •
Charles having taken a fancy for again changing the con¬
stitution of the Admiralty, Pepys lost his post for a time
as secretary. Meanwhile he accompanied Lord Dartmouth
to Tangier, and employed his shorthand in preserving some
records of the expedition. These notes were deciphere
and published in 1841 from the MS. in the Bodleian
Library. On his return, Pepys was re-installed in ns
secretaryship ; a post for which no man in Englan was
better qualified, and which he was allow'ed to occupy ti
the reign of James II. came to an end. He enjoyed muc i
of the confidence of the latter monarch. We are told tha
on the arrival of the news that the Prince of Orange had
landed, James was sitting to Kneller for his picture, which
was intended as a present to the secretary of the Admiralty.
That his “good friend might not be disappointed,” the
king commanded the painter to proceed, and complete the
picture. Much of the credit frequently accorded to James
II. for “renovating the navy” is unquestionably due en¬
tirely to Pepys. For the part borne by him in the naval
history of the period the reader will find ample details in
his Memoirs relating to the State of the Royal Navy of
England, determined December 1688, 8vo, London, 1690.
The studious retirement which Pepys sought, on being
deprived of his official employments at the succession of
William and Mary, was devoted to the arrangement of his
extensive materials for a general history of the Navalia of
England. Death came, however, to cut the work short on
the 26th of May 1703.
Judging from the great variety, both of his duties and
amusements, Pepys must have been a man of singular ver¬
satility. Despite his burdensome duties in connection with
the affairs of the navy, which must have absorbed no ordinary
degree of strength and courage, there seems to have been
positively no end to the play-going and amusement in which
the author of the Diary indulged. He sat for many years,
besides, in the House of Commons; he was a connoisseur
in the fine arts; he practised music; he patronized letters ;
and, to crown all, he was president of the Royal Society
for two successive years. Among the invaluable MSS.
bequeathed by him to Magdalen College, Cambridge, is
to be found a remarkable collection ot English ballads, from
which were taken a large portion of Percy s Religues.
A small anonymous book in the Pepysian Library is like¬
wise ascribed to him by Matt (Bibliotheca Britannica),
entitled A Relation of the Troubles in the Court of Por¬
tugal in 1667 and 1668, by S. P., Esq., 12mo, London,
1667. But the work on which the reputation ot 1 epys
chiefly rests is the Diary already alluded to, which \vas ex¬
humed from its stenographic obscurity by the skill of John
Smith (then a young student at Cambridge, afterwards
rector of Baldock, Herts), and published, with a selection
from the author’s private correspondence, by Lord Bray-
brooke, in 2 vols. 4to, London, 1825. A third edition ap¬
peared, by his lordship, in 1848, containing very extensive
and interesting additions formerly left out, with a Life and
Notes, extending in all to 5 vols. 8vo. 1 heie is P®r,
book, either in our own or any other language, vv U^ ' P
sents such lively and truthful delineations of the society
and manners of a former age. ^he J .
invaluable as a history of the court and times of Chat Its 11.,
yet from its endless diversity of quaint gossip and amusing
detail drawn from domestic life and personal experience,
it is, It the same time, unquestionably the most intei esting
book of its kind in existence. « Golden
PERA a suburb of Constantinople, N. ot the tjoioen
b L -If ami is separated from that suburb by a wall, and
foreign ambassadors and the dragomans reside heie. A
great number of houses including the Pjtlace of Bntah
ambassador, were burned down in 1831 , but Wiese nave
Wn since rebuilt in a better style than formerly. Since
then it has several times suffered from fire. Ihere are a
Greek and several Roman Catholic churches, a Moham¬
medan college, and a monastery of dervishes.
PERAK, an independent state on the west coas^ 0
Malay Peninsula, lies between Keddah on the N., an
Sangalore on the S. It is watered by a river of the same
Pera
Perak.
406 P E R
Perambu- name; and is partly mountainous, and partly consists of
lator rich alluvial plains. There are valuable tin mines, pro-
p " , ducing upwards of 3600 cwt. of tin annually. Gold is also
obtained by washing in many of the streams. The country
was at one time subject to Siam, but is now governed by a
sultan of its own. The population is estimated at 35,000
Malays, exclusive of the aboriginal tribes in the interior.
PERAMBULATOR, in surveying, an instrument for
measuring distances, called also an odometer, and a survey¬
ing-wheel.
PERCEPTION. See Metaphysics.
PERCEVAL, Spencer, an English statesman, the
second son of John, Lord Egmont, was born in 1762, and
received his education at Harrow, and at Trinity College,
Cambridge. Becoming a member of Lincoln’s Inn, and
pursuing the study of law with a close and unwearied at¬
tention which stooped to the most minute details, he soon
laid the foundations of future eminence. Accordingly, he
had not been long in Parliament as member for the borough
of Northampton, when he entered upon a career of promo¬
tion. Under the Addington administration, the office of
solicitor-general was conferred upon him in 1801, and the
office of attorney-general in 1802. On the overthrow of
the Grenville ministry in 1807, he was appointed chancellor
of the exchequer; and on the retirement of the Duke of
Portland from the premiership in 1809, he succeeded to the
post of prime minister of Great Britain. His administration
was marked by strong opposition to the tolerant views which
had ruined his predecessors; and he is one of the few Eng¬
lish statesmen who have rendered themselves notorious
from the rancour of their religious intolerance. He seems
to have been a man of a cold, ungenial nature. Perceval
was still at the head of affairs when he was shot by an
assassin named Bellingham in the lobby of the House of
Commons on the evening of the 11th May 1812.
PERCH (Lat. pertica, a long staff or pole frequently
used in measuring land) is used, like the word pole, as a
denomination both of lineal and of superficial measure. As
a measure of length, it is equal to o-J yards, or 16£ feet; in
square measure, the perch is the j^th part of a rood, or
equal to 30£ square yards. (See Weights and Measures.)
PERCIVAL, Thomas, an eminent physician and mo¬
ralist, was born at Warrington in Lancashire in 1740. His
characteristic enthusiasm began to appear at an early age.
After studying with great ardour at the newly-instituted
academy of his native place, he devoted himself to the
medical profession. He began his studies at Edinburgh in
1761, continued them at London in 1764, and finished
them by graduating at Leyden in 1765. But it was not
until 1767, when Percival commenced to practise as a phy¬
sician in Manchester, that his enthusiasm obtained its full
scope. Fond of his profession, addicted to scientific inves¬
tigations and discussions, earnest, and religious, he now
entered upon a career of wide and varied activity. He be¬
came a frequent contributor to the Philosophical Transac¬
tions of London ; and he became the chief instrument in
establishing the Literary and Philosophical Society of Man¬
chester. His numerous papers on medical subjects were
devoted to the cause of public health; SLwdhxs Moral Dis¬
sertations, Instructions to Children, and Medical Ethics
were consecrated to the interests of public morality. His
professional duties were also discharged with the most con¬
scientious assiduity till his death in August 1804. The
entire works of Dr Percival, accompanied with a Life,
were published by his son, in 4 vols. 8vo, London, 1807.
PERCY, Thomas, Bishop of Dromore, editor of the
well-known Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, was born
of humble parents at Bridgenorth in Shropshire on the
13th of April 1728. He had his elementary education at
the free school of his native town, and entered Christ Church,
Oxford, as an exhibitioner in July 1746. On being presented
PER
to the vicarage of Easton-Mauduit in Northamptonshire, and Perdiccas
to the rectory of Wilby in 1756, he commenced a career of ||
faithful pastoral labour, relieved as often as leisure would Pereira,
permit by the cultivation of literature. In 1761 he came
before the public with a translation from the Portugese of
a Chinese story in four volumes, entitled Hau Kiou Choaan.
This performance was followed up by Chinese Proverbs,
and a new version of Solomon’s Song. In 1763 he pub¬
lished a translation into Latin prose of five pieces of Runic
poetry, and the year following a Key to the New Testament.
Percy had by this time formed an intimacy with the most
eminent men of letters then in England. Samuel Johnson
visited him at his vicarage in 1764, and spent three very
happy months in the society of the learned ecclesiastic, then
in eager pursuit of old heroic ballads and songs. It does
not appear, however, that Johnson showed a very lively
sympathy with those reliques of ancient minstrelsy. Men
of letters and professed antiquarians gave him their aid or en¬
couragement ; and “ the last male descendant of the ancient
house of Percy” gave “ Otterbourne” and “ Chevy Chase,”
and the rest of the famous Peliques, to the world in 1765.
The greater part of this collection was taken from an an¬
cient folio manuscript in the editor’s possession, containing
nearly 200 compositions of all times and dates, from the ages
prior to Chaucer to the conclusion of the reign of Charles
I. The Pepysian Library at Magdalen College, Cambridge,
likewise furnished some valuable pieces. (See Pepys.)
The reception given to these immortal ballads was at first
by no means enthusiastic. Percy received 100 guineas
for the first edition; and what was more substantial, was
made chaplain in ordinary to the king in 1769, dean
of Carlisle in 1778, and bishop of Dromore in 1782.
In this Irish retreat, where a century before Jeremy Tay¬
lor had nursed his fine genius to a ripe maturity, Percy
continued to prosecute his literary studies, to administer
comfort to the poor, and spiritual consolation to all. In
addition to the works of this elegant scholar already spe¬
cified, he in 1770 printed the Northumberland Household
Book, and a poem connected with the history of the family
of Percy, written in imitation of the old ballad, and en¬
titled The Hermit of Warkworth. It was during the same
year that his translation of Mallet’s Northern Antiquities
was given to the public. Interesting remains of Bishop
Percy are still to be found in The Percy Correspondence,
published by John Bowyer Nichols. His assiduous appli¬
cation to study, and especially to old manuscripts, cost
Percy his eyesight. He had become quite blind before
his death, which took place on the 30th of September
1811, in the 83d year of his age.
PERDICCAS, the name of three kings of Macedonia.
The first is supposed by Herodotus to have been the
founder of the monarchy; the second was the son and
successor of Alexander I.; and the third was the son of
Amyntas II., and the successor of his brother, Alexander
II. (See Macedonia.)
Perdiccas, one of the most distinguished of the generals
of Alexander the Great. (See Macedonia.)
PEREIRA, Jonathan, a distinguished pharmacologist,
was born on the 22d of May 1804 in the parish of Shore¬
ditch, London. Passing from a classical academy, Queen
Street, Finsbury, where he had received his prelimin¬
ary education, he was at the age of fifteen articled to
a navy surgeon in the City Road. In 1821 his appren¬
ticeship was brought to a termination, and he entered as
a student at the Aldersgate General Dispensary, and at
St Bartholomew’s Hospital. At these institutions he had
an opportunity of devoting himself with ardour to those
studies which he had prosecuted with so much zeal in pri¬
vate during the years of his apprenticeship. In 1823
Pereira obtained the appointment of apothecary at the Al¬
dersgate Street Dispensary, and began to give lessons to
PER
Perejnslav private pupils preparatory to their medical examination.
|| His success in this undertaking already pointed him out
Perez. as a person destined to rise to distinguished eminence
as a public instructor. It was during this period that he
commenced his career as an author by publishing for the
use of students a translation of the London Pharmacopoeia,
Selecta e Prccscriptis, which has gone through many edi¬
tions ; A Manual for the Use of Students ; and A General
Table of Atomic Numbers, rvith an Introduction to the
Atomic Theory. Pereira had just completed his twenty-
first year when, in 1825, he was made lecturer on chemistry
at the Aldersgate Street Dispensary ; and three years after¬
wards he commenced a course of lectures on his favourite
subject of Materia Medica. As a scientific teacher he soon
attained an extensive popularity,.and his class became the
largest of the kind in London. He resigned his office of
apothecary in 1832, married, and established himsell in
general practice in Aldersgate Street. In the winter of the
same year he was elected professor of Materia Medica in
the New Medical School in Aldersgate Street, and was
made lecturer on chemistry at the London Hospital, lo
pave the way for his great work, The Elements of Materia
Medica, on which he was then busily engaged, Pereira
published his lectures on that subject in the Medical Gazette
for 1835-6-7, which contributed greatly to raise his repu¬
tation both at home and abroad. His Elements appeared
in 1839-40; and about the same time he was appointed
examiner in Materia Medica at the London university. He
was chosen assistant physician to the London Hospital in
1841, having previously become a licentiate by examination
of the College of Physicians, and having obtained the de¬
gree of M.D. from the university of Erlangen. On the
opening of the School of Pharmacy in 1842, Dr Pereira de¬
livered two lectures at that institution “ On the Edementary
Composition of Food,” which he subsequently amplified into
A Treatise on Food and Diet. In 1843 he published his
Lectures on Polarized Light; and during the same year
became professor of Materia Medica to the Pharmaceutical
Society, a position which he continued to occupy till 1851.
The greater number of Pereira’s valuable contributions to
Pharmaceutical Journal were made at this period. In
1845 he was elected a fellow of the Royal College of Physi¬
cians, and shortly afterwards was appointed curator of the
museum of that institution. His death, which took place
on the 20th of January 1853, in the forty-ninth year of his
age, was caused by the rupture of a blood-vessel about the
heart, induced by the effects of a severe fall. As an au¬
thority in Materia Medica, Dr Pereira had few equals in
Europe.
PEREJASLAV, or Perejaslavl, a town of European
Russia, government of Poltava, at. the confluence of the
Alta and the Frubesh, 176 miles W.N.W. of Poltava. It
is an ancient town, and is defended by an earthen wall and
a dilapidated fortress. Brandy is made here, and some trade
is carried on in corn and cattle. Pop. (18o2) 10,848.
PEREKOP, a town of European Russia, in the govern¬
ment of Taurida, stands in an unhealthy position on the
isthmus of the same name, joining the Crimea to the main¬
land, 88 miles N.N.W. of Simferopol. It is defended by
irregular wooden fortifications and by a strong castle.
There are here a Greek church and a mosque; and large
fairs are held, frequented chiefly by the Nogai Tartars.
The principal trade carried on is in salt, which is obtained
in the neighbouring steppes. Pop. (1849) 4116. The
isthmus of Perekop is about 20 miles long, and 4 miles
broad at the narrowest part. It separates the Gulf of Sivach
on the E. from that of Perekop on the W., and where nar¬
rowest is crossed by a rampart and ditch.
PEREZ, Antonio, the natural son of Gonzalo Perez,
for a long time secretary of state to Charles V. and Philip
II., was born in 1541 at Monreal de Ariza in Aragon,
PER
and legitimated by imperial diploma in 1542. In his boy¬
hood he accompanied his father, who attended the court
through Europe, and received the elements of education at
Louvain and Venice, which he finished in Madrid. Trained
by his father to succeed him, he became, at the death of the
latter, the principal of the two secretaries of state, and had
the charge of the despacho universal. The royal council
was divided into two hostile parties, headed respectively
by Ruy Gomez, Prince of Eboli, and by the Duke of Alva:
Perez adhered to the former, which had been all-powerful
since the failure of Alva in the Netherlands, and continued
so after the death of Ruy Gomez in 1573, till his own dis¬
grace in 1579. Adroit, devoted, and unscrupulous,—an able
writer, and assiduous in business,—he had by degrees as¬
sumed the highest place in the king’s confidence, and was
the depositary of the dangerous secrets of that suspicious
tyrant. In this unenviable eminence he behaved himself
imprudently, creating enemies among the nobles by ostenta¬
tious contempt, as well as by the wealth which he extorted
from petitioners, and acquired (as Spanish ministers have
generally done) by the sale of offices and titles. His own
account of the disgrace which determined the whole of his
subsequent history is, that, being authorized by the king to
ensnare Escovedo, then supposed to be engaged in a plot for
securing the Spanish crown for his master, Don Juan, the
king’s brother, Perez, after several unsuccessful attempts at
poisoning Escovedo, caused him to be stabbed in the street
on the 31st of March 1578. Perez’s real motive, however,
for the murder, was to get rid of a dangerous enemy ; for
Escovedo was acquainted with an intrigue of Perez with
the Princess Eboli, the king’s mistress, and the murderer
feared his conduct might reach the ears of Philip. I hat
this was the real motive of Perez was long questioned by
historians. So high an authority as Ranke discredited it;
but it has been placed beyond doubt by the researches of
Mignet, which appeared first in the Journal des Savans,
and were afterwards published separately, and appeared in
an English translation in 1846. Rumour at once fastening
on the real motive and culprit, the relatives of Escovedo
demanded justice ; and having discovered the truth, Philip
had the Princess Eboli and Perez simultaneously arrested.
Perez was sentenced in 1585 to ten years banishment
(including two years’ close imprisonment), and heavy res¬
titution and fine. He was shut up in the fortress o
Turreguano, where he had the society of his wife, Juana
Coello; whose whole life gave proof of a remarkable fidelity
and self-devotion. To compel him to give up the docu¬
ments that implicated Philip, he was put to the tor ure
(February 1590), a stretch of power which had no othei
effect than to procure for him the sympathy of th<; no^es’
whose privileges were violated in his person. On the 20 “
of July of the same year, assisted by his faithful fne
Gil de Mesa, he escaped to Saragossa in Aragon, and placed
himself under the protection of the fueros or independent
jurisdiction of that kingdom. The events that ensue belong
Jt0 Spanish history; for it was the protection Perez leceived
from the fueros, and the spirited resistance to the arbitrary
invasion of them in his case, that gave Philip, who had been
long secretly undermining them, the pretext for their ab
tion bv force of arms.
Acquitted by the court of Saragossa, the attempt was
made9 by the monarch’s instruments to transfer Perez
forcibly to the prison of the Inquisition a charge of heresy
being Ygot up against him out of the passionate blas¬
phemies he was too apt to utter when enraged by his misfor¬
tunes. A popular insurrection set him at liberty, in which
the Marquis of Almenara, viceroy in Aragon, lost his life.
In the reaction produced by this unlucky catastrophe,
the attempt was repeated under more legal forms ; but a
second insurrection, contrived by the friends of Perez,
frustrated it, and he was able to escape to France. He
408 PER
Perfumery, was received with kindness at Pan by the Princess Cathe-
rme, who brought him to her brother Henri IV., at lours,
in the spring of 1593. Henri sent him on a secret mis¬
sion to the coast of England, where he warmly and ably
seconded the active counsels of the Earl of Essex, which well
accorded with his own animosity against his former master.
Through Essex he became intimate with Francis and
Antony Baca, and received a pension of L.130. While in
England he published his Relaciones in 1594, under the
name of Raphael Pelegrino. In January 1595 he was
recalled by Henri IV., who had declared war against
Philip II. He received as residence a house that had be¬
longed to the Due de Mercceur and a guard to protect
him against assassination. His position, however, was
precarious and irksome. An unsuccessful mission to Eng¬
land in 1595, aggravated his discontent, and the part he
played in the treaty with Spain in 1597 had not the effect
of strengthening his interest with the French king. Ihe
succession of Philip III. in 1598 raised his hopes again;
but it was not till April of the following year that his wife
and children were liberated. All the efforts he made, to
get himself recalled were, however, vain ; a mission which
he undertook to England in the interest of Spain in 1601,
and on the strength of which he resigned his pension, igno-
miniously failed: he was obliged to leave England as soon
as he had arrived, and returned to France to spend his last
days in want, solitude, and despair. He died 3d Novem¬
ber 1611, and was buried in the Celestins.
Perez has an eminent place in Spanish literature. Be¬
sides the Relaciones above mentioned, the Memorial and
Comentarios relating to that work, which is not very trust¬
worthy, he published Cartas Familiares. Many ol these
letters are in Latin ; those, namely, to Essex and his other
English and French friends. They have the same essential
qualities as those in his own language to his family and
friends in Spain. His faults are those of his age; and some
of them were adopted from the fashionable euphuism of
England. He has conceits, false and strained analogies, in
abundance ; the whole vocabulary of mythology, and the
fabulous natural history in vogue, are at his command ; of
Tacitus he imitated the compression and the obscurity ;
he affected the sententious smartness of Seneca : these
were his favourite authors. On the other hand, he has
passages of a noble and touching pathos, happy similitudes
well hit off, and much of the bitter wisdom of disappoint¬
ment. He had seen the great very closely, had been the
secretary and agent ot a dark and tortuous tyrant, knew
well and cleverly delineates the Machiavelism of the age.
Many of his sharp sentences have become proverbial; many
deserve to become so. A Life ot Philip II. by him is in
existence, but has not been published.
PERFUMERY is the art of preparing certain substances
for the gratitication ot the sense ot smell. But accoiding
to a modern professor of the art (Madame Celnart, Manuel
du Parfumeur, Paris, 1845), perfumery has a much more
extensive range, including the preparation ot volatile oils,
pommadcs, absorbent poivders for increasing, and depilato¬
ries for diminishing' the growth of hair; creams and cosme¬
tics for the skin ; almond and other pastes; dentifrices, and
mouth-washes ; essences and scented waters ; dry perfumes,
such as pastilles, cassolettes, and printanniers, or little per¬
forated ivory boxes containing a dry scented paste, to be
worn in the pocket; sachet powders for insertion in silken
bags or ornamental envelopes; aromatic vinegars, and
toilet soaps, hair powders, and bandolines, hard and liquid,
for dressing the hair. All these names indicate as many
different classes of perfumes, and each class sometimes
contains an almost endless variety, as in the various scents
for the handkerchief, oils for the hair, &c.
The use of perfumes has been common among most
nations from the earliest times. The monuments of an-
P E 11
cient Egypt represent the censer exhaling its grateful Perfumery,
odour before the presiding deity ; and the surfaces of tombs
often represent the preparation of spices and perfumes for
the embalming of the dead. The unrolling of the mummy
in our museums has placed in our hands the costly per¬
fumes actually used by the ancient Egyptians. Frequent
reference is made in Holy Scripture to perfumes. In
Exod. xxx., Moses is directed to take pure myrrh, sweet
cinnamon, sweet calamus, cassia, and oil of olive, which he
is to compound, “ after the art of the apothecary,” for a
holy anointing oil. He is also directed to take sweet spices,
stacte, onycha, galbanum, and pure frankincense, to make
a perfume to be placed “ before the testimony in the taber¬
nacle of the congregation.” Several perfumes are also
mentioned in the Canticles,—iv. 14; Ps. xlv. 8 ; Prov. vii.
17; Jer. vi. 20; and other passages, of which the most
familiar in the New Testament is in Mark xiv. 3, where
a woman “ having an alabaster box of ointment of spike¬
nard, very precious, brake the box, and poured it on his
head.” The ancient Greeks and Romans made free use
of perfumes, which they carried in costly and elegant
boxes to the bath, after the use of which they anointed
and scented themselves. Perfumes are still largely used
in the East, where it is the custom to sprinkle guests with
rose-water, and to perfume them with aloes-wood at the
close of a visit, as a mark of hospitality and friendship.
The use of perfumes in Great Britain, at least among the
male sex, has greatly declined since the free use of soap has
become general. The man who is most fastidious about his
dress now hesitates to employ perfumes freely, lest he should
become obnoxious to the sarcasm of the poet Cowper:—
“ The sight’s enough ; no need to smell a beau.”
Still, however, the trade in perfumes is enormous, a con¬
siderable portion of the industry of the south of France
being employed in their preparation. Cannes is celebrated
for perfumes produced from the rose, tuberose, cassia,
jasmine, and orange neroli. At Nismes, thyme, rosemary,
aspic, and lavender are manufactured. Nice is famous
for the products of the violet and reseda ; Sicily for those
of the lemon, the bergamot, and the orange; England
excels in the preparation of lavender and peppermint;
Mitcham in Surrey, and Hitchin in Hertfordshire, being
celebrated for their essential oils.
Perfumes are chiefly of vegetable origin, although there
are a few of animal, such as musk and civet, and of chemical,
such as the salts of ammonia. Various parts of a plant may
contribute odour: in some cases it is the root, as in the
iris; in others, the stem or wood, as in cedar; or it may be
the leaves, as in mint; or the flower, as in the rose and
the violet; or the seed, as in the Tonquin bean; or the bark,
as in cinnamon. Some plants give more than one odour:
thus the orange tree yields three,—namely, petit grain, from
the leaves ; neroli, from the flowers ; and the essential oil ot
orange, called Portugal, from the rind of the fruit.
Vegetable odours are due to volatile oils contained in cer¬
tain small vessels or sacs, or generated from time to time
during the life of the plant, as when it is in blossom. Some
odours exude by incision, as in the case of certain odoriferous
gums, such as benzoin ; or balsams, which are mixtures of an
odorous oil and an inodorous gum. Some balsams are pre¬
pared, in the country which produces the plants, by boiling
the plant in water, straining, and evaporating to the consist¬
ence of treacle ; as in the case of balsam of Peru, which is
prepared from the Myroxylon peruiferum. Such balsams
are used for mixing with soap, and in some cases medicinally.
Perfumes are for the most part prepared by one of four
operations, namely,—(1.) Expression; (2.) Distillation;
(3.) Maceration ; (4.) Absorption or enfleurage. By the first
operation essential oils may be obtained, such as the oil
of orange, of lemon, or of citron peel. The peel is packed
PER
Perfumery, in a cloth bag, and subjected to pressure in a powerful iron
y r press. The oil which exudes is contaminated with the
watery extract, but the different fluids separate on being
left to repose in appropriate vessels, and the oil can be re¬
moved by means of a pipette. In the second process, the
herbs are put into a still, together with a quantity of water,
which being raised to the boiling point, the volatile otto
comes over with the steam. Spirit is sometimes used in
the still, hut it is better to draw the oil first with water, and
then to dissolve the oil in spirit. The products of the dis¬
tillation are put into a funnel, and they separate by standing.
The stills are heated by means of steam, by which the risk
of burning and imparting an empyreumatic flavour to the
products is avoided. Some idea of the extensive nature of
the operation of distilling may be formed from the fact, that
at Mitcham a ton of herbs is distilled at one operation.
With the exception of the essential oils of lavender and
peppermint, the south of France is the great seat of the
manufacture of essential oils,—such as those of the rose,
neroli, lemon-thyme, and rosemary. In preparing the
essence of roses, the w'ater and the roses are put into the
still until one-half of the water has been distilled off, and
when a considerable quantity of water of the first distillation
has been obtained, it is used as water upon fresh rose-
leaves ; and this plan is repeated five times. In distilling
orange-flowers to obtain the essence of neroli, the same
process is adopted ; but orange-flower water is obtained at
the first distillation.
By means of maceration, or, as the perfumer sometimes
calls it, infusion, a variety of pommades, scented oils, and
scented spirits are prepared. The vessel containing the
liquid, such as the fat, oil, or spirit, together with the essen¬
tial oil, or the parts of the plant which afford the scent, is
heated by means of a water-bath or bain-marie. The
fat for pommades should be first pounded in a marble
mortar until the membranes are completely torn : it should
then be heated in a water-bath, skimmed, and filtered
through canvas. Mr Piesse, in his work on Perfumery (2d
edit. 1856), speaks of the oil of behn, from Jamaica, as be¬
ing a perfectly inodorous fat oil, well adapted for extracting
the odours of flowers by maceration. In preparing rose,
orange-flower, and cassia pommades, a quantity of lard and
beef suet are melted in a pan called a bugadier ; the rose-
leaves are stirred in, and left for twenty-four hours, when
the mass is again melted, strained, and fresh flowers are
added ; and so on for ten or fifteen times. In some cases
the pommade is made into rectangular bricks, and pressed
to separate the solid matter from the soft pommade: the
bricks are then put into a perforated barrel, and pressed
until the pommade exudes and flows into a copper vessel
placed under the trough of the press. In preparing scented
spirits, the essential oil and spirits of wine are digested in a
water-bath, and frequently agitated diiring three days, when
the spirit is drawn off into a second digester, and after three
days to a third digester, with similar treatment. The cele¬
brated eau de Cologne is prepared by distillation and infu¬
sion, the latter process being preferred. The successful pre¬
paration of this perfume is regarded as the perfection of the
art. The various essential oils of which it is composed
ought to be combined so harmoniously that no one of them
shall be perceptible, not only at the first impression, but
during the evaporation of the scent; a remark which should
apply to other perfumes. When the ingredients differ but
little among each other in odour and volatility, the desired
result may be more easily attained. The constituents of
eau de Cologne are said to be the essential oils of the
lemon, the citron, and the orange, prepared from the fruit
in different stages of maturity, and they approach so closely
to each other as to produce only a single aromatic impres¬
sion. Minute proportions of other oils are added, such as
otto of roses, oil of cloves, or oil of cinnamon; but the eau de
VOL. XVD.
PER
409
Cologne is regarded as of inferior quality if a residuary odour Pergamus.
of either of these substances remains after volatilization. ^
Perfumes for the handkerchief are known to the perfumer
as simple or compound,—the former being called extracts,
esprits, or essences ; and the latter, bouquets or nosegays.
By the process of absorption or enfleurage pommades
and scented oils are extensively prepared, for which purpose
a square four-sided frame or chassis, two or three inches
deep, with a pane of glass resting on its inside ledges, is
used. On this pane of glass a simple pommade of hog’s
lard and suet is spread, and into this sweet-scented flowers
are stuck every day for two or three months, until the pom¬
made is sufficiently rich in perfume. Several thousand
frames are operated on in this way, and they are arranged
in piles over each other. Pommades of jasmine, tuberose,
violet, &c., are prepared in this way. The oils of the same
flowers are similarly prepared. Cotton cloth, stretched in
an iron frame, is imbued with the best olive-oil, and com¬
pletely covered with a thin layer of flowers. Upon this is
placed another frame treated in the same manner, and a
pile is made in this way; and when the oil is saturated
with the odour of the flowers the pile is carefully pressed,
and the scented oil flows out. Rose, orange-flower, and
cassia oils, however, are made by infusion.
For the proportions in which the various ingredients are
used, particulars of manipulation, apparatus, &c., we must
refer to books appropriated to the subject, such as that of
Mr Piesse; but we cannot close this short article without
remarking how so apparently trivial a subject as perfumes
rises in dignity as soon as it touches on chemical science.
So long as the perfumer confined himself to empirical pro¬
cesses and shallow secrets, science did not disturb his
operations; but when it was asserted, at the time of the
Great Exhibition of 1851, that certain essences in exten¬
sive use had for some time previously been prepared by
artificial means, the chemist took a lively interest in the
perfumer. It appeared that a scent called winter-green oil,
obtained from an ericaceous plant, the Gaultheria pro-
cumbens, had been imported in considerable quantities
from New Jersey in America. Now, it was found that this
oil was a true compound ether, consisting of salicylic acid
and pyroxylic spirit, and capable of being formed by a
combination of these substances, so as to possess all tie
characters of the natural product. This observation led to
the discovery, that among the numerous ethers prepared by
the chemist, some, on being properly diluted, presented the
odour of certain fruits so decidedly that it appeared all but
certain that the fruits themselves were indebted to these
ethers for their odours. (See Chemistry, vol. vm also
0PERGAMUS, or Pergamum, an ancient city of Mysia
in Asia Minor, was situated on the north bank of the
Ca'icus. The facts regarding its origin are not authenti¬
cated. It is said to have been founded by a colony of
Arcadians, and to have derived its name from Pergamus,
a son of Pyrrhus. At any rate, m the time of Xenophon
it was a strong towm perched on the top of a conical ,
and numbering many Greeks among its inhabitants. In
course of time its population began to increase ; houses be¬
gan to be grouped round the foot of the Acropolis 5 and the
city continued to grow in importance unti about -83 B.C.,
when it became the seat of a kingdom I he first sovereign
was one Philetaerus, an eunuch, and a I aphlagoman by
birth This man being in the service of Lysimachus, King
of Macedonia and Thrace, was appointed by him keeper ot
the treasures lodged in Pergamus. Whilst he held this
employment, having fallen under the displeasure of Arsinoe,
wife of Lysimachus, she found means to excite a quaire
between him and his master, upon which Philetaerus seized
on the town, together with the treasures entrusted to his
care. At first he offered his service, together with his
3 F
410 P E II G
Pergamus. treasure, to Seleucus, the King of Syria; but both Seleucus
an(] Lysimachus dying soon afterwards, he contrived to
keep possession of the town and treasure until his death,
which happened in 263 B.C., twenty years after his revolt
from Lysimachus.
The city of Pergamus was left an independent state to
Eumenes I., the nephew of Philetterus. This ruler laying
hold of the opportunity offered by the dissensions amongst
the Seleucidae, possessed himself of many strongholds in
the province of Asia; and having hired a body of Galatians,
defeated Antioch us Soter near Sardis. By this victory he
obtained possession of the greater part of Asia. But he did
not long enjoy his acquisitions, for he died next year of im¬
moderate drinking.
Eumenes was succeeded, in 241 B.C., by Attalus I., who
was also a nephew of Philetserus, and who was the first to
assume the title of King of Pergamus. He defeated the
Gauls, who seemed desirous of settling in his territory; and,
according to Livy, he wTas the first of the Asiatic princes
who refused to pay a contribution to these barbarians.
Taking advantage of the wars in which Seleucus Ceranus
was engaged, he invaded the territories of that monaich,
and conquered all the provinces on the Anatolian side of the
Taurus. Seleucus, however, with the aid of Achseus, soon
deprived him of all his newly-acquired territories, and even
besieged him in his capital. Upon this, Attalus, inviting to
his assistance the Gauls who had settled in Thrace, noi.
only obliged the enemy to raise the siege of Pergamus, but
quickly recovered all the provinces he had lost. After this
he invaded Ionia and the neighbouring provinces, where
several cities voluntarily submitted to his sway. Thence
he advanced to Apia, and, encamping on the banks of the
River Megithus, received homage from the neighbour¬
ing nations. But here the Gauls, being frightened by an
eclipse of the moon, refused to proceed farther; a circum¬
stance which obliged the King of Pergamus to return to the
Hellespont. Attalus now entering into an alliance with the
Romans, joined them in their war against Philip, King of
Macedonia. In this war, in command of the Rhodian fleet,
he not only drove the Macedonians quite out of the Greek
seas, but having landed his men, he invaded Macedonia,
and obliged Philip to raise the siege of Athens. For these
services the Athenians not only heaped on him all the
favours they could bestow, but called one of their tiibesby
his name,—an honour which they had never before be¬
stowed upon any foreigner. Attalus next attempted to
organize a general confederacy of the Greeks against Philip.
But whilst he was haranguing at Thebes, with a view to
this object, and exhorting the Boeotians to enter into an
alliance with the Romans against their common enemy, he
fell in a fit of apoplexy. Having somewhat recovered, he
was carried by sea to Pergamus, where he died soon after
his arrival, in 197 b.c., in the seventy-second year of his
age, and forty-third of his reign.
Attalus was succeeded by his eldest son Eumenes JJ.
The latter was exceedingly attached to the Romans. . He
refused the daughter of Antiochus the Great in mainage,
lest he should thus be led into a quarrel with that people.
He also gave intimation to the Roman Senate of the trans¬
actions of Ariarathes, King of Cappadocia, who was making
great preparations both by sea and land. Nor did ns
fidelity stop here. When he saw the war about to brea
out between Antiochus and the Romans, he sent hi»
brother Attalus to Rome in order to give information of the
proceedings of Antiochus. At the battle of Magnesia, too,
he behaved with the greatest bravery, not only sustaining
the first attack of the enemy’s elephants, but driving them
back again upon their own troops, and thus throwing the
hostile ranks into confusion, and contributing materiall} to
the complete victory of the Romans. Such assiduous ser¬
vices were well rewarded. On the conclusion of peace be-
L M U S.
tween Antiochus and the Romans, his dominion was ex- Pergamus,
tended over all the countries in Asia Minor west of Mount
Taurus. Soon after this Eumenes engaged in an unsuc¬
cessful contest with Prusias, King of Bithynia, who made
war upon him by the advice of Hannibal, the celebrated
Carthaginian general. The Romans, however, interfered,
and by their deputies not only put an end to the differences
between the two kings, but prevailed on Prusias to betray
Hannibal. Eumenes being thus freed from such a dangerous
enemy, engaged in a new war with the kings of Cappadocia
and Pontus, in which he proved victorious. His friendship
for the Romans he now carried to such a degree of enthu¬
siasm that he went in person to Rome to inform them of
the machinations of Perseus, King of Macedonia. This
journey, however, had almost proved fatal to him. On his
return, as he was going to perform a sacrifice at Delphi,
two assassins, sent by Perseus, rolled down two great stones
upon him as he entered the straits of the mountains. He
was so severely injured that a report of his death was spread
over Asia; and on reaching home, he found that his bi other
Attalus had married his wife and assumed his crown. In
spite of this flagrant attempt upon his life, however, Eumenes,
on the outbreak of the war between the Romans and Mace¬
donians, entered into negotiations with Perseus. He offered,
if the latter would pay him a sum of money, to influence
the Romans to grant him a safe and honourable peace.
These negotiations were indeed broken off prematurely, but
not before the Romans had begun to be suspicious, and to
entertain no little jealousy of their old friend, and to heap
favours upon his brother Attalus. Eumenes in alarm Re¬
solved to proceed in person to Rome, in order to justify
himself. But the Senate having already condemned him in
their own minds, resolved not to hear his vindication, and
made an act that no king should be permitted to enter the
gates of Rome. Accordingly, on landing at Biundusium,
he was met by a quaestor, and ordered to quit Italy and go
back to Pergamus without delay. On his return, the Gauls,
encouraged by the cold reception which he had met with at
Rome, invaded his territories, but were repulsed with great
loss. This produced new complaints at Rome. Eumenes
was accused of keeping up a secret correspondence with
the King of Macedonia; and the senators having conceived
the most implacable hatred against him, seemed absolutely
bent on his destruction, when he died in 159 B.C., in the
thirty-ninth year of his reign, leaving his kingdom and his
wife to his brother Attalus.
Attalus II., in the commencement of his reign, found
himself greatly distressed by Prusias, King of Bithynia, who
not only overthrew him in a pitched battle, but advanced
to the very w’alls of Pergamus, ravaging the country as he
marched along, and at last reduced the royal city itself.
The king, having saved himself by a timely flight, de¬
spatched ambassadors to Rome for assistance. Prusias was
accordingly obliged to conclude a peace with his adversary,
and to give indemnities. The last enterprise in which we
find Attalus engaged was against Andriscus, the pretended
son of Perseus, King of Macedonia, in which he assisted the
Romans. After this he gave himself up to ease and luxury,
committing state afiairs entirely to his ministers ; and thus
continued till his death, which happened in the eighty-se¬
cond year of his age, about 138 b.c.
Attalus II. was succeeded by Attalus III., the son of
Eumenes II., and of Stratonice, the daughter of Ariarathes,
Kino- of Cappadocia. This prince is said to have been de¬
prived of his senses through the violence of his grief for his
mother’s death; and, indeed, throughout his whole reign,
he behaved more like a madman than a person of sane
mind. On the death of this tyrant in 133 B.C., a will was
found, by which he left the Roman people his heirs, upon
which they seized on the kingdom, and reduced it to a pro¬
vince of their empire by the name of Asia Proper. Aris-
PER
tonicus, however, a son of Eumenes by an Ephesian
courtesan, reckoning himself the lawful heir to the crown,
assembled a considerable army in order to maintain his
pretensions. The news were speedily carried to Rome ;
and Licinius Crassus, the pontifex maxirnus, was sent into
the East to vindicate the Roman claims. But he managed
matters so ill that he was entirely defeated and taken pri¬
soner by Aristonicus. Aristonicus did not long enjoy the
fruits of his victory. He was soon surprised by Perpenna,
the newr consul, who obliged him to venture an engage¬
ment at a disadvantage, defeated "him, and took him pri¬
soner. The Pergamenians, notwithstanding the defeat and
captivity of their leader, still held out with such obstinacy
that Aquilius, the succeeding consul, was obliged to be¬
siege and take by force almost every city in the kingdom.
At last, however, the whole country being reduced, Aqui¬
lius triumphed, and the unhappy Aristonicus, being led in
chains before his chariot, probably ended his miserable life
in a dungeon.
The city of Pergamus retained its importance long after
its subject territory had been thus reduced into the form of
a Roman province. It still continued to be famous for its
magnificent library, which had been founded by Eumenes
II., and which contained, according to the ordinary reports,
about 200,000 volumes. In the times of the New Testa¬
ment it was the seat of one of the Seven Churches men¬
tioned in the Apocalypse. In the age of Pliny it was by
far the most celebrated city of Asia. Yet after passing
into the Byzantine empire Pergamus gradually declined,
and in course of time was transformed into the modern city
of Bergamah. The ruins of a palace, of the temple of
iEsculapius, of a theatre, and of other public buildings, are
the only remnants of its ancient grandeur.
PERGOLESE, Giovanni Battista, one of the most
celebrated musicians of the Neapolitan school. Among
his biographers, Italian, French, German, and English,
there are conflicting statements regarding his birthplace,
the date of his birth, his surname, and the conservatory in
which he wras trained at Naples. By some of those he is
surnamed Jesi; by others Pergolese, or Pergolesi; and is
said to have been born in 1704 or 1707 at Pergola, a
small town in the duchy of Urbino; and to have been
educated in the conservatory of St Onofrio at Naples.
According totheMarchese di Villarosa, who published a bio¬
graphy of Pergolese in 1831, and who had in his hands the
official certificate of the musician’s birth and baptism, Per¬
golese was the true surname, his birthplace Jesi, a smaU
town near Ancona in the Papal States, and the date of
his birth ten o’clock on the night of the 3d of January 1710.
The Marchese di Villarosa asserts also that Pergolese was
admitted in 1717 into the Neapolitan conservatory dei
Poveri di J. C., and not into the conservatory of St
Onofrio, as has been so often stated. There Pergolese
studied the violin under Domenico de Matteis, and musical
composition under Gaetano Greco, and Durante, Greco s
successor. It appears th"t Pergolese was patronized by
the noble families Stigliano and Caracciolo. In his earlier
productions he adhered to the severer style of Greco and
Scarlatti, but afterwards adopted that of his fellow-student
Vinci, who considered melodic freedom and dramatic ex¬
pression to be the chief objects of music. Padre Martini
remarked that some passages in the sacred music of Pergo¬
lese were more suitable for operatic compositions. His
first great work was the oratorio of San Guglielmo d’Aqui-
tania, in 1731. In 1731 and 1732 he composed his operas
Sallustia, La Serva Padrona, Lo Frate Innarnorato, II
Prigionier Superbo; and in 1734 the opera Adriano in
Siria, and the intermezzo Lirietta e Tracollo. In the
same year he was appointed chapel-master of the churcn o.
Our Lady at Loretto. In 1735 he produced the operas 1
Flaminio and Olimpiade. Suffering from pulmonary con-
P E R
411
Pericles.
sumption, he retired to Pozzuoli, near Naples, and there Periander
composed his cantata Orfeo, a Salve Regina, and his "
famous Stabat Mater. He died there on 16th March
1736, and was buried in the cathedral church. Besides the ^
above-mentioned works, Pergolese composed the follow¬
ing :—A three-act intermezzo, Zcs Contadina Astuta;
Amor fa VUomo Cieco ; Recimero ; II Maestro di Musica;
II Geloso Schernito ; tw o Salve Regina ; a Mass for tw-o
choirs; a Miserere for four voices; a Confitebor for five
voices; a Motett; a Mass for two voices; a Mass in D
major ; the score of an Oratorio on the Birth of Christ; a
Laudate, with accompaniments ; a Dixit, with accompani¬
ments ; four Cantatas for a voice, with harpsichord and vio¬
lin ; a Mass for ten voices ; a Dixit for ten voices ; a Con¬
fitebor in Canto-Fermo for four voices ; six Cantatas, three
of them with accompaniments for violin, viola, and bass,
and three with harpsichord accompaniments; a violin
Concerto; and thirty Trios for two violins, violoncello, and
harpsichord. (<>• f* Gt.)
PERIANDER, Tyrant of Corinth, succeeded his father
Cypselus, about 625 b.C. He began to rule with a mild
and beneficent sway, yet soon adopted a system of vigorous
and salutary despotism. His first measure was to insure
internal peace by shutting up the clubs, common tables,
and other scenes of political discussion, by removing or
strictly watching all the citizens of high birth and influence,
and by prohibiting all that wasteful extravagance which
might result in wanton misconduct or factious poverty.
Then, in order to strengthen his power, he enrolled an army,
equipped a fleet, and entered into leagues with both Gre¬
cian tyrants and barbarian kings. At the same time, it was
his care to adorn his capital with magnificent architectuie,
and to grace his court with men of philosophy and letters.
The last days of Periander were clouded by domestic mis¬
fortune. His wife Melissa died in consequence of a blow
which he had given her in a fit of jealous rage. His youngei
son Lycophron was assassinated by the Corcyraeans while
residing among that people. I he only member of his
family that was left was his idiot son Cypselus. Ovei-
whelmed by these calamities, the hoary tyrant died at the
age of eighty, and after a reign of forty years. 1 enander
is said by his biographer Diogenes Laertius to have left
behind him a didactic poem, which consisted of moral and
political precepts, and amounted to 2000 verses. It was
this work, in all probability, which led some to rank him
among the seven sages of Greece.
PERICARP. See Botany.
PERICLES, the greatest of Athenian statesmen, was,
born about the beginning of the fifth century B^c. The
family influences amid which he was brought up weie well
calculated to foster political ambition His extraction was
noble • his natrimony was splendid; his relations nem
some of the high offices in the state ; his maternal gram-
fkther Clefsthegnes was one of the expellers of the Pisi-
stratidse • and his father Xantippus was the conqueror of
the Persians at the battle of Mycale. Yet these advantages
of birth did not induce the youthful Pericles to enter pie-
obr into the arena of politics. Like an ancient ath-
lete'who subjected himself to a careful process of training
before entering the lists at Olympia, he patiently prepareu
himself by the most thorough education. From Damon, a
professed teacher of music, but in reality an inveterate po-
Utician, he learned the history and principles of the Athe¬
nian constitution. In the school of Zeno the Eleatic, ne
acquired the art of carrying an argument into the most in¬
tricate subtleties and sophistries, and of making tne
worse appear the better reason.” But it was especial :
under Anaxagoras, “ the Intelligence, as he was called
that his mind attained its fullest development. In the
o-enial atmosphere of that great man’s philosophy ns intei-
fect expanded to receive the rays of truth, his heai t warmed
412 P E R I C L E S.
Pericles, with the largest sympathies, and his spirit stood forth
clear, serene, and calm. The refining influence even
passed into his outward frame. His features assumed a
settled repose, and his bearing became instinct with an easy
dignity.
Thoroughly prepared by this complete process of training,
Pericles began his political career about 469 B.C. In no
long time he was the recognised leader of the democratic
party against the warlike Cimon, the chief of the aristocracy.
His conduct in this position was very unlike that of other
demagogues. Dwelling apart in self-satisfied seclusion
like a king, and wrapped up in his own thoughts like a
philosopher, he showed himself to be the master and not
the slave of the mob. He would not injure his self-respect
by making his power subservient to his avarice, and wring¬
ing from the horny grasp of labour its hard-earned gains.
He would not demean his talents by studying the vicious
tastes of the populace, and by haranguing them on every
paltry occasion. To parade himself often in public, and
to mingle in the society of his friends, was, he thought, to
impair his magisterial dignity. Even to wince under po¬
pular abuse, or to return the enmity of political adversaries,
was, according to him, to act unworthy of a man of superior
capacity. He pursued a tar different line of policy. The
art of raising Athens to the height of prosperity was the
only subject worthy of his study. The quiet of his own
chamber was his only proper sphere. When he con¬
descended to punish any public insolence, he waited silently
until the reviler had exhausted himself, and then ordered
his servant to light the rascal home, or to do him some
other act of kindness. When it pleased him to court the
favour of the people, he did it like a prince, giving them
money out of the treasury to frequent the theatres, and
paying them for their military service and for their attend¬
ance at the courts of justice. When he deigned to appear
as a public orator, it was for some great cause worthy of
his transcendent genius. Then his usual cloak of calm
reserve was thrown aside, and he stood forth in all the na¬
tive earnestness of his character. He mounted the bema
with his oration thoroughly premeditated, and began to
speak with a prayer to the gods that no inappropriate word
might fall from his lips. All the resources of his highly-
gifted nature were immediately brought into play. He
wielded the powers of his majestic intelligence and the
stores of his spacious imagination with consummate ease
and mastery. His gestures rose into commanding dignity,
his words flowed fast and free, and nothing could resist
the winning sweetness of his tone. The people swayed
hither and thither before the breath of his mouth. “ When
I throw him,” said his political antagonist Thucydides, “he
swears he has never been down, and even persuades the
popidace to believe it.” In fact, he was, as his contempo¬
raries called him, a real Olympian. He thundered and he
lightened, and darted from his tongue the bolts of almighty
Jove. Nor was the foreign policy of Pericles, though less
imposing, at all less far-sighted and less successful than his
internal policy. He managed to take no active part in the
expedition which resulted in the defeat of the Athenians at
Tanagra in 457 B.C. The disastrous inroad of Tolmides into
Boeotia in 447 B.C. was stigmatized with his disapproval at
its very outset; and his remark on that occasion, that Time,
the best of all counsellors, would corroborate his advice,
became ever memorable. His measures were also success¬
ful in saving the city in 445 B.c. from a threatened revolt
of her tributaries, and a simultaneous invasion of the La¬
cedaemonians. Bribing the Spartans to return in peace to
their own country, he concentrated all the strength of the
state against the factious Eubceans, brought them to terms
of submission, and thus crushed a dangerous insurrection in
the bud.
It was about 444 b.c., when Pericles had become abso¬
lute master of the Athenian destinies, that the most com- Pericles,
prehensive and most magnificent schemes of policy that
were ever entertained by any heathen statesman began to
pass before his mind. The greatness of Athens, he thought,
must be made to depend upon the concentrated influence
of every excellence. She must be at once a fortress of
strength, a city of palaces, an abode of refinement, and a
temple of the gods. Her friends must be fascinated by her
beauty and attractions ; and her enemies must be overawed
by her splendour and majesty. Her citizens and de¬
pendents must love and admire her as a cherishing and
peerless mother; and all Greece must reverence and obey
her as a stately mistress and an accomplished teacher.
The first measure of Pericles for the execution of this great
plan was to establish the political superiority of the city.
Continuing the Athenian policy of exacting tribute in lieu
of military service from the rest of the Hellenic confederacy,
he drained the resources of the other Greek cities, and
amassed the money within his own. Urging as a plea that
Athens, if she protected the independence of Greece, might
use this money for any purpose whatever, he employed it
in rearing up the fabric of the national strength. A third
long wall was built to the Piraeus, in order that the com¬
munication between the city and its port might be rendered
more secure. A fleet of sixty galleys was sent out to sea
for eight months annually, in order that the sailors might
be inured to service, and the ships be kept ever ready for
action. Several colonies were planted to draw away the
surplus population from the city, and to extend the com¬
merce and influence of the state. At the same time, the
right of Athens to arbitrate in all important disputes be¬
tween her subject allies was pertinaciously claimed; so
that in 440 B.c. the island of Samos, after a blockade of
nine months, was reduced and punished for setting at
nought this asserted supremacy. Nor, while Pericles was
thus strengthening the outward fortifications, did he neglect
to attend to the interior arrangements of the city. He set
all the arts into their fullest activity to make it a theatre
of beauty, pleasure, and refinement. Solemn festivals
and religious pageants were prepared to relieve the attention
and fascinate the eye. The great dramas of iEschylus,
Sophocles, and Euripides were employed to stir the ima¬
gination and elevate the soul. But it was the illustrious
Phidias and his able coadjutors that were specially honoured
to complete the beautiful and sublime spectacle. At their
command, the genii of painting, and sculpture, and archi¬
tecture were summoned to fabricate a gorgeous crown for
this queen of cities. Accordingly, up on the brow of the
Acropolis, with wonderful rapidity, were reared two grand
and elegant structures of white marble—the Propylaea,
with its lofty porticoes, and the Parthenon, the most ex¬
quisite fabric that Grecian genius ever designed. The
inner walls of these edifices were crowded all over with
painted and sculptured figures; the intermediate ground
was studded with statues ; and towering over all, and visible
to the mariner as he doubled the distant Cape of Sunium,
rose the colossal image of Athene Promachos, with shield
upraised and javelin balanced, as if in the act of protecting
her favourite city, the seat of her worship and her name.
While these great works and enterprises raised Athens
to a transcendent height of power and glory, they were only
the occasion of involving the latter years of their great
author in trial and difficulty. The Spartans, jealous of the
supremacy which the Athenians were establishing under
his administration, began to organize a conspiracy, and to
meditate the Peloponnesian war. His political adversaries,
taking advantage of the excitement produced by coming
hostilities, commenced to assail him. They vented severe
criticisms upon his government, charged him with the de¬
sign of assuming the tyranny, and condemned his defensive
attitude towards the hostile Lacedaemonians. The comic
PER
PER
413
Perigee
II
F6rigueux
poets threw every available scandal at his head, and made
him the butt of every species of ridicule. Ihere were
some who, not content with attacking him directly, aimed
at him indirectly by assailing his connections and acquaint¬
ances. His friend Phidias was arraigned for introducing
his portrait on the shield of one of the statues of Minerva,
and was thrown into prison, and left there to die. His
paramour, the notorious Aspasia, was accused of pandering
to his licentiousness, and was only acquitted after he had
descended to plead for her life with tears and entreaties.
His aged teacher also, Anaxagoras,- was charged with over¬
turning the national religion, and was sentenced to pay a
fine, and to go into banishment. Yet the great statesman,
completely mailed in his own probity, withstood these darts
of calumnv, and addressed himself to meet the attack of the
Peloponnesians, who had now declared war. His tactics
were directed by a policy as thorough-going and effective
as it was cautious. Knowing that the enemy was superior
in land forces, he collected all the moveable property of
the Athenians within the walls of the city, and contented
himself with assuming a defensive attitude towards the ad¬
vancing invaders. Knowing also that Athens was the
undisputed mistress of the seas, he sent out a fleet to make
descents and reprisals upon the coasts of the Peloponnesus.
This system of strategy was carried on efficiently during the
first two years of the war. It might have been continued
with the same result, and might have brought hostilities to
a successful issue, had not an unforeseen disaster occurred
to remove the able general and administrator. A plague
broke out in Athens, raged with dreadful malignity, and
threw the citizens into a ferment of irritable discontent.
Pericles was made the scape-goat of all the national cala¬
mities, and was condemned to suffer the unreasonable ill-
humour of the ungrateful populace, and the indignity of
being fined. A series of private afflictions at the same
time fell fast and fearfully upon him. Many of his relations
and political friends died of the epidemic. His family also
gradually wasted away. At length his only surviving legi¬
timate son was carried forth lifeless. I he stoical foititude
of the solitary old man now broke down. As he placed the
funeral garland upon the head of the ill-starred youth, he
burst into a flood of tears, and sobbed aloud. Pie resumed
his public duties; but it soon became evident that public
ingratitude and domestic misfortune had prostrated Ins
strength and spirit. About the middle of the year 429
B.C., a slow fever seized him, and he lay down upon Ins
death-bed. As the closing hour drew near, his attendants,
thinking him in a stupor, stood round the couch xecounting
the deeds of the great soul that was preparing to depart.
“ You have forgotten,” muttered he, “ my greatest piaise .
you have not noticed that no fellow-citizen has ever put on
mourning on my account.” T hese were the last words o
this great Athenian. _
The authorities for the biography of Pericles aie P u-
tarch and Thucydides. (See also the Grecian Histories of
Grote and Thirlwall.)
PERIGEE (Trept, near, yij, the earth) is that point of the
moon’s orbit at the least distance from the earth. In this
sense it is opposed to apogee. (See Astronomy.)
PEltIGUEUX, a town of France, capital of the depart¬
ment of Dordogne, is built in the form ol an amphitheatre on
the right bank of the Isle, here crossed by a fine bridge,
miles E.N.E. of Bordeaux, and 296 S.S.W. of Paris. It
consists of two parts, the town proper and Puy-Saint-rront.
The former of these is substantially though irregularly
built of freestone. The streets are narrow; and many o t ie
houses are curiously ornamented. I he ancient rampai is
are now replaced by boulevards; and a fine public wa in
the highest part of the town commands a beautiful view o
the valley of the Isle. The cathedral of St front is ^veiy
remarkable edifice; it is an exact copy of St Mai •>. s a
Period.
Venice, having five domes, and a tower 197 feet high at Perihelion
the W. end. The prefecture of Perigueux is a fine edifice
of modern date; and the church of the Jesuits is also a
beautiful structure. There are here a public library, con-
taining 16,000 volumes, a museum of antiquities, court¬
house, barracks, hospital, theatre, and other buildings. In
one of the suburbs stands a round tower of Roman origin,
100 feet high; also a Roman arch and amphitheatre. The
manufactures principally carried on in the town are those
of paper, woollen fabrics, hosiery, leather, cutlery, brandy,
and the celebrated pies of Perigueux, made of partridges
and truffles, and which form a considerable article of ex¬
port. An active trade is carried on in flour, salt, iron,
wood, pork, groceries, &c. Perigueux occupies the site of
the ancient Vesunna, which was at the time of the Roman
invasion the capital of the Petrocorii. Under the empire
it was a place of no small importance, as it stood at the
junction of five roads and was strongly fortified. Perigueux,
along with Aquitaine, was ceded to the English by Louis
IX. ° After having been recovered by the French, the
town was again lost; but it was finally taken from the
English by Charles V. During the civil wars of the Re¬
formation it was a stronghold of the Protestants till the
year 1581 ; and it was not till 1653 that it came into the
power of the Crown. Pop. (1856) 13,291.
PERIHELION (Trcpt, near, (/Aios, the sun) is that part
of the orbit of a planet or comet at its least distance from
the sun. In this sense it is in opposition to aphelion. (See
Astronomy.) . .
PER1M, or Mehun, an island in the Strait ot Bab-el-
Mandeb, off the coast of Yemen in Arabia, and having its
southern extremity in N. Lat. 12. 38., E. Long. 43. 23.
In form it is oval, 3£ miles in length from W.N.W. to
E.S.E., by 2^ in breadth; and it divides the entrance ot
the Red Sea into two channels, called the Great and Little
Straits respectively ; the former, between Perim and the
African coast, being 13 miles broad, and the latter, formed
by the island and Cape Bab-el-Mandeb, 1}. 1 he Little
Strait is the one most frequently used by vessels entering
the sea, as it is quite safe, though varying from 7 to io
fathoms in depth, and as it affords good anchorage; wheie-
as in the Great Strait, where the depth varies from 13 to
25 fathoms, there are only a few places where anchorage
can be obtained; but during the night, with a favourable
breeze the wider passage is to be piefeire .
is a bare black rock, without water, anJ. f ^
destitute of vegetation ; but it has on the S.W • side a
nutgnificent ha,lour, more than 1J mde " f
„ Rolf tn three Quarters of a mile m breadth, with a oeptn
of 7 or 8 fathoms. It is capable of containing ^rty^men-
of-war; and the entrance is safe, being ^
■ -i i in Grimms deep. The island of i enm com
wide, and 16 fathoms deep and for this reason it
mands the entiance o British in order to defend
T been Tmlnr Th fi^octi™ on which it was
the approach to Ind,a the designs
occupied wj'» im“““i'° |ssessi0S of Egypt. The
of the French, v , i • loyi when that danger
island was, however abandoned m 180I> "“ct of the sSEZ
island, under the guns of which all vessels have to pass that
“pESETEB^he bounds or limits of any figure or
i I • The perimeters of surfaces or figures are lines, am
tdsyeof bodiPes a7e surfaces. In circular figures, instead
of nprimeter we say circumference or pei iphery.
PERIOD, in Astronomy, is the time occupied y » s ^
or planet in making a revolution round the sun, or
414 PER
Period duration of its course till it return to the same part of its
.11 orbit. (See Astronomy.)
Perjury. Period, in numbers, is applied to the recurring part of
a circulating decimal.
PERIOECI (jrepLOLKOL) is an old geographical term used
to denote those who dwelt under the same latitudes but
under opposite longitudes, just as antceci (uvtoikoi) meant
those under the same longitude but opposite latitudes, and
antipodes (dvriVoSes) those under opposite latitudes and
opposite longitudes.
PERIPATETICS (TrepiTrareo), 1 walk about), a term
applied to the disciples of Aristotle, because he taught them
while ivalking in the TrepiVaros, or promenade of the
Lyceum at Athens. Peripatetic accordingly came to be
equivalent to Aristotelian. (See Aristotle, and Aristo¬
telian Philosophy.)
PERIPHERY (Trept^epo), I carry round) signifies, ac¬
cording to the Greek use of the term, the circumference
of a circle. It is usually applied, however, by the moderns
both to rectilinear and to curvilinear figures.
PERIPHRASIS (Trept, about, cfipdlw, I speak) signifies
properly circumlocution, and is applied to that figure ot
rhetoric in which more words are used than are necessary
to express the idea, with the design of avoiding common
and trite modes of expression, and thus giving dignity and
elevation to the discourse. The periphrasis is of great use
on some occasions ; and it is often necessary, to make things
be conceived which it is not proper to name. It is some¬
times polite to suppress the names, and only to intimate
or allude to them. These turns of expression are also par¬
ticularly serviceable in oratory; for the sublime admitting
of no direct citations, there must be a compass taken to in¬
sinuate the authors whose authority is borrowed. A peri¬
phrasis, by turning round a proper name in order to make
it understood, amplifies and raises the discourse ; but care
must be taken that it be not too much swelled nor extended
mat d propos, in which case it becomes flat and languid.
PERIPNEUMONY (vrepi, about, r-vevpwv, the lungs)
signifies properly an inflammation, of the substance of the
lungs, as distinguished from pleurisy, or the inflammation of
the membrane which invests the lungs.
PERISTALTIC (mpurTeXXw, I involve) is an epithet
given to a vermicular spontaneous motion of the intestines,
performed by the contraction of the circular and longitu¬
dinal fibres of which the fleshy coats of the intestines are
composed; by means of which the food, chyme, chyle,
faeces, &c., are kept moving towards the termination of the
alimentary canal.
PERISTYLE. See Glossary to Architecture.
PERITONEUM {ntpiTovaiov, from -rrept, about, and
rovow, I stretch) is the fine membrane which lines the
inside of the abdominal cavity, and envelopes every por¬
tion of the intestines. Inflammation of the peritoneum is
called peritonitis.
PERJURY is defined by Sir Edward Coke to be a
crime committed when a lawful oath is administered in
some judicial proceeding, to a person who swears wilfully,
absolutely, and falsely, in a matter which is material to the
issue or point in question. In ancient times it was in some
places punished with death; at other periods it made the
false swearer liable to the punishment due to the crime
which he had charged the innocent person withal; and at
others, again, it subjected him to a pecuniary fine. But
though it escaped human, yet it was thought, amongst the
ancients in general, that the Divine vengeance would most
certainly overtake it; and there are upon record many se¬
vere inflictions believed to be from the hand of God, as
monuments of the abhorrence in which this atrocious crime
is held by the Deity. (See Oaths.) Perjury is a misde¬
meanour at common law, and is punishable by fine and im¬
prisonment. and by transportation for a period not exceeding
PER
seven years. Owing to the painful increase of perjury, all Perizonius
courts of justice, civil or criminal, down to petty sessions, II
are now empowered by stat. 14 and 15 Viet., c. 100, § 19, Perm,
forthwith to commit and direct to be prosecuted any one
appearing to them to be guilty of perjury.
PERIZONIUS, Jacob, a learned Dutchman, was born
at Dam, in the province of Groningen, in 1651 ; studied at
Deventer, and afterwards at Leyden. He applied himself
with great ardour to philology and history ; and in 1674 was
appointed rector of the gymnasium at Delft. In 1681 he re¬
moved to the academy of Franeker as professor of eloquence
and history, and accepted the chair of history, eloquence,
and the Greek language in the university of Leyden.
During his whole life he plied his pen with great industry
in connection with his favourite pursuits. But his assidu¬
ous and uninterrupted labours at length undermined his
health, which was naturally delicate, and after languishing
for some time in a hopeless condition, he died at Leyden
on the 6th of April 1715.
Perizonius, though a man of an amiable and obliging
disposition, was nevertheless sensative, and fond of disputa- *
tion. He engaged in several keen controversies, particu¬
larly with Ulric Huber, professor of law at Franeker, on
the sense of a passage in the Epistle of St Paul to the Phi-
lippians ; with Francius, professor of eloquence at Amster¬
dam ; with James Gronovius on the death of Judas Isca¬
riot ; with John Leclerc, on the subject of Quintus Curtius ;
and with Kuster on the ces grave of the ancients.
The works of Perizonius all display erudition, but are deficient
in order and method. Besides good editions of various authors, he
wrote Animadversiones IJistoricce, Amsterdam, 1685, in 8vo 5 (}. Cur¬
tius Rufus in integrum restitutus, vindicatus, Leyden, 1703, in 8vo ;
J)e Doctrinal Studiis, nuper post depulsam barbariem diligentissime
denuo cultis et desideratis, nunc vero rursus neglectis fere et contemptis,
Leyden, 1708, in 8vo; Rerum per Europam sceculo XVI. maxime
gestarum Commentarii Historici, ibid. 1710, in8vo; Origines Babylo-
nicce et ^n/pfi'acce, Leyden, 1711, 2 vols. 8vo,—a work full of curious
and interesting remarks on the chronology of Egypt, in opposition
to Marsham, Usher, Capell, Pezron, and some other chronologists;
Opuscula Minora, Orationes atque Dissertationes varii et preestantio-
ris argumenti, Leyden, 1740, 2 vols. 8vo, preceded by a Life of Pe¬
rizonius, and a catalogue of the manuscripts which he bequeathed
to the library of Leyden. Amongst the works edited by this able
scholar may be mentioned the History of JElian, 1701, in 2 vols.
8vo; and the Minerva of Sanctius, 1714, in 8vo.
PERLEBERG, a town of Prussia, in the government
of Potsdam, on the Stepnitz, 73 miles N.W. of Berlin. It
contains a Protestant church and chapel, courts of law, and
public offices, as well as manufactories of cloth, chicory,
and beer. A much-frequented market for flax is held here.
Pop. 6438.
PERM, a government of Russia, lying partly in Europe
and partly in Asia, between N. Lat. 56. 30. and 61. 30.,
E. Long. 53. 20. and 64. 10., and bounded on the N.
by the governments,of Vologda and Tobolsk, E. by that
of Tobolsk, S. by that of Orenburg, and W. by that of
Viatka; length from N.W. to S.E., 520 miles; breadth
about 400; area, 129,100 square miles, being more than
double that of England and Wales. It is divided into two
parts by the Ural chain, which traverses it from N. to S.,
forming the boundary between Europe and Asia. Of these
parts, the eastern or Asiatic is considerably the smaller.
The mountains rise very gradually and almost impercepti¬
bly ; the loftiest summit in this government being that
called Pavdinskoi Kamen, which is more than 6000 feet
above the level of the sea. The principal pass across the
Urals is that which leads from Perm by Kungur and
Yekaterinenburg to Tobolsk. A large portion of the sur¬
face is occupied with mountains, which are for the most
part wooded, the woods containing in many places exten¬
sive marshes. The eastern portion of Perm is watered by
the Sosva, the Tura, and the Sceth, tributaries of the
Tobol, which itself discharges its waters by the Obi into
P E B,
P E B
415
Perm, the Arctic Ocean. The principal river W. of the Ural
chain is the Kama, an affluent of the Volga, which nows
in a winding course through the country from N. to S., and
receives many smaller streams. rI here are also numerous
lakes in the government, most of them lying in the eastern
portion ; and mineral springs exist at various places. 1 he
southern part of the government, on the European side, is
generally fertile and well cultivated, but the other portions
are better fitted for pasture than for agriculture ; and a
great part of the land is allowed to lie uncultivated. There
were in 1849, 6,948,992 acres of arable land, 5,382,283 of
meadow land, 53,818,205 of wood, and 2,181,887 of
waste land, in the government. The quantity of corn of
all kinds raised in the same year was 34,086,933 bushe s,
and that of potatoes, 922,184 bushels. The corn produced
is not, however, sufficient for the supply of the inhabitants.
Rye, barley, and oats are the chief kinds of grain; flax is
also grown. In the forests, of which nearly a half belong
to the Crown, the pine, the larch, and the lime are the chief
trees ; the oak, the elm, the cedar, and others abound in
the south-eastern parts. The climate in the northern and
in the mountainous regions is cold and rigorous; on t|ie
higher summits snow lies for a great part of the yeai. The
forests of the country abound in game, and the rivers in
fish. Fur-bearing animals are also numerous. Of domes¬
tic animals the government contained in 1849, 731,693
horses, 615,277 horned cattle, 889,437 sheep, 296,427
swine, and 40,164 goats. The chief riches of Perm are
its minerals, which are extensively worked, and affoid g™-
ployment to a vast number of the inhabitants. Gold, sil¬
ver, platinum, iron, copper, lead, together with salt, marble,
loadstone, diamonds, and precious stones, are the principal
produce of the mines. The timber of the forests is ex¬
tensively used for fuel in working the mines. The follow¬
ing table exhibits the quantity of different metals obtained
in 1855 from the principal mines belonging to the Crown in
this government:-
LI), troy. Cwt. Owt. troy weight.
Yekaterinenburg  1346 ... 59,311 ...
Bogossloosk  1760 6148 ... • ^
Perm  5352
The manufactures in the government are inconsiderable,
except those immediately connected with the mines.
leather, soap, candles, glass, &c., are manufactured; and
trade is actively -carried on, not only on account of the
facility of conveyance by the Kama and its tributaries, but
on account of the numerous fairs that are held, many of
them in the large towns. About three-fourths of the po¬
pulation are Russians, and the remainder are descended
from the ancient inhabitants of this country, and various
Tatar tribes. The religion of the vast majority is that of
the Greek Church ; there are, however, 78,204 Mohamme¬
dans, and 9422 heathens, besides small numbers of 1 ro-
testants, Roman Catholics, and Jews. The governments
of Perm and Kazan are under a single military governor.
In regard to education, the country is in a low state ; it is
under the superintendence of the University fvazan.
Perm is divided into twelve circles, and contains l,(41,/-ia
inhabitants. ,
Perm, the capital of the above government, stan s on
the right bank of the Kama, which here receives the sma
rivers Danilicha and Jagoshicha, 220 miles W. of io o s^,
and 322 N.E. of Kazan. It is environed on three sides
with thick woods ; and is well and regularly built, c ne y
of wood, having straight and broad streets. It is t ie sea
of an archbishop ; and contains nine churches, a conven ,
several schools of various kinds, and hospitals. T icie. aie
here extensive foundries, and refining-works for coppei an
iron, which are obtained in abundance from the mines i
the vicinity. Trade and navigation are actively carried on.
Pop. (1851) 13,262.
Pernam¬
buco.
PERN AGO A, a town of Brazil, province of Piauhy, Pernagoa
stands on the E. side of a large lake of the same name, 250 11
miles S.S.W. of Oeiras. It is the seat of a justice of the
peace ; and contains a fine church. Some trade is carried
on in tobacco grown in the vicinity, and in horses and
mules. Pop. 4000.
PERNAMBUCO, a province of Brazil, lying between
S. Lat. 7. and 11., W. Long. 34. 50. and 43., is bounded on
the N. by the provinces of Ceara and Parahiba, N.W. and
W. by that of Piauhy, S. by those of Bahia and Alagoas,
and E. by the Atlantic; area, 61,633 square miles. It
consists of two distinct regions, one lying near the coast,
and the other on the table-land of the interior. The coast,
which is fringed with coral reefs, is low and uninteresting,
and the adjacent country level; but farther from the sea there
is a succession of hills and dales, and still farther to the W.
the ground becomes stony and sterile, as it rises into the
table-land which is known by the name of the Serrao de
Pernambuco. This region forms a part of the table-land
of Brazil, and consists in a great part of salt steppes, though
in some parts there are excellent pasture-lands and fields
of cotton. The principal mountains in the province are
those of Borborema, which form its northern and western
boundary ; and the most important river of the province, or
of any other in Brazil belonging wholly to the country, is
the San Francisco, the largest stream that falls into the
Atlantic between the Amazon and the Plata. It onlyfoim»
part of the southern boundary of Pernambuco; and the
affluents it receives here are so few and insignificant that
the country is in general very dry and sterile. Some gol
is found here, and excellent marble might be quarried.
The forests yield abundant supplies of timber of various
kinds suitable for ship-building, for carpentry, and for
ornament. Dye-woods are also obtained. I he climate
of Pernambuco is hot and moist in the interior, but
more agreeable in the maritime district. I he soil ot tne
latter is in many parts rich and fertile, producing cotton,
sugar, cocoa, maize, mandioc, and a variety of huits, met i-
cinal herbs, and vegetables. Manufactures can hardly be said
to exist in Pernambuco; but there are sugar-works and distil¬
leries. The trade of the province is considerable, and is
chiefly carried on through the port of Pernambuco I e
province appoints six senators and thirteen deputies to the
legislature. Pop. (1856)950,000. . _ . • t]ie
Pernambuco, the capital and prmapal seaport in the
above province, stands on the Atlantic, a ie j
r^niWihe 210miles N.E. of Bahia; S. Lat. 8. b., vv. uon0.
Capibanbe ^ ™ e g of pernambuC0 proper, or
Reel' and OHoS which are about 3 miles d.tant front
Stch olher (See OuNtra.) The
 i into three parts, occupying
and is divided into tfflee pa , Recife, or
a peninsula, an island, and a peninSula
Pernambuco proper y so calle , ^ 01in[,a> This is the
which extends to the sou - , , Antonio
most mercantile part o tie formed bv the arms of
stands upon an isJ^^ °i with” Recffe by a long
the Capibanbe, being i .• stone. The third
bridge almost entire^ eons^^ ^ the
westward0of theCother two,^and is joined m thetn by^a
wooden b"d|®; “^dTis called Boa Vista, where the
nclterfnhabhants reside.
when rernambuco..s ^ ’„ood, gradually
charming. interior ; but none of them is ot any con-
‘•SbR height Recife contains regular though narrow
siderable g ck three or more storeys in height,
streets, and house. , ctand here the custom-
416 PER
Pernau the streets are broad, and the houses large, the ground
11 floors being generally occupied with shops. Among the
Peroration. pUijiic buildings here are the treasury, town-hall, prison,
barracks, governor’s palace, See. There are several public
squares, and the general appearance of this quarter is very
lively. The principal street of Boa Vista is broad and
handsome, and there are here many elegant buildings. A
long embankment connects the sand-bank and town of S.
Antonio with the mainland at Affogados, to the south and
west of Boa Vista. The position of Pernambuco, on the
most easterly point of South America, renders its harbour
one of much importance ; and the nature of the harbour is
no less favourable for commercial purposes. It is formed
by a singular reef, probably of coralline structure, which
extends for 1500 miles along the Brazilian coast, from the
province of Bahia to that of Maranhao. This remarkable
reef at the top is scarcely sixteen feet in breadth. To a
great depth on the outside it slopes off more rapidly than
the Plymouth breakwater, but it is perpendicular within ;
thus forming a magnificent natural bulwark or breakwater,
within which the ocean isas still as a mill-pond. Insomeparts
it sinks under water, and there are numberless breaks, by
which a communication with the sea is laid open. The har¬
bour, which is well protected from the sea by the reef, has
two deep and safe entrances; but there is a bar of sand within
it, which, even at spring tides, does not admit vessels draw¬
ing more than 15 feet. This might, however, be removed
by dredging. The anchorage is about half a mile in length,
and of breadth sufficient to admit four rows of vessels. The
harbour is defended by forts ; and there is a lighthouse 80
feet high, visible to a distance of 16 or 17 miles. The com¬
merce of Pernambuco is very important, the exports con¬
sisting chiefly of cotton, sugar, rum, hides, and dye-woods;
and the imports, of cotton and linen cloth, hardware, cutlery,
silks, wine, flour, cod, &c. The trade has been on the in¬
crease for some years. Pernambuco was much improved
by the Dutch, who were in possession of it from 1630 to
1654. The population of the town is 12,000; of the dis¬
trict, 38,000.
PERNAU, a fortified seaport-town of European Russia,
in the government of Livonia, stands on a flat sandy heath
at the mouth of the Pernau, on the Gulf of Riga, 102 miles
N.N.E. of Riga. It is well and regularly built; and con¬
tains two Lutheran and one Greek church, several schools,
an orphan hospital and various other benevolent institutions.
The harbour has a bar at its mouth, which obstructs the
entrance of large vessels; but, notwithstanding, there is a
considerable trade carried on in corn, flax, hemp, timber,
leather, See. From its low situation, it is exposed to inun¬
dation. Many remains of antiquity have been discovered
in the neighbourhood of Pernau. Pop. (1849) 5740.
PfiRONNE, a town of France, in the department of
Somme, on the slope of a hill in the midst of marshes, on
the right bank of the Somme, 30 miles E. of Amiens. It
is strongly fortified, and has a ruined castle, in one of whose
towers Charles the Simple died in captivity, and Louis IX.
was imprisoned by Charles the Bold of Burgundy. There
are two suburbs ; and the houses are well built. The chief
buildings are the church of St John (a fine Gothic edifice),
an ancient belfry, a town-hall, convent, hospital, theatre,
and college. Manufactures of woollen and cotton stuffs,
lawn, cambric, leather, sugar, and other articles are carried
on here ; and there is some trade in grain, wool, and brandy.
Peronne was a place of much importance in the middle
ages, and bore the name of La Pucelle (“ The Maiden
City”), as it was never captured till Wellington took it eight
days after the battle of Waterloo. Pop. (1856) 4102.
PERORATION {peroro, I wind up a speech) is the
concluding portion of an oration, in which all that the orator
had insisted on throughout his discourse is urged afresh
with greater vehemence and passion. The peroration con-
P E R
sists of two parts ; the recapitulation, in which the substance Perouse
of what was diffused throughout the speech is briefly col- 11
lected, and summed up with new force and weight; and PerP5gnan.
the appeal to the passions, which is so peculiar to the pero-
ration that the masters of the art call this portion sedes
affectuum.
PlSROUSE, Jean-Franjois Galaup de la, a distin¬
guished French navigator of the eighteenth century, was
born in 1741 at Albi, in the department of Tarn. After
passing through the marine school, he entered the navy; and
in 1756 was made a midshipman. Three years later, he took
part in the battle of Belleisle, was wounded, taken prisoner,
and carried to England, where he was detained till the peace
of I763sethimfree. Onreturning to France, herose through
the various grades of promotion, served in the East Indies
from 1773 to 1777, and when war again broke out with
England in 1778, he signalized himself by several brilliant
exploits. In 1782 he was sent to destroy the English set¬
tlements on the shores of Hudson’s Bay. He took and de¬
stroyed Fort York, which he found undefended. Hearing
that some of the garrison had fled into the woods, and were
in danger of perishing from cold and hunger, or at the
hands of the savages, he humanely left a supply of arms and
provisions for their use. The only things of value that La
Perouse found in the fort were the papers of the governor,
which, when claimed as private property, he promptly re¬
stored. When peace was restored in 1783, the French,
taking up the idea of maritime discovery from their late
rivals, fitted out an expedition to the Pacific. The chief
command of the squadron (which consisted of two frigates,
Boussole and Astrolabe) was given to La Perouse. Set¬
ting sail from Brest on the 1st of August 1785, he doubled
Cape Horn, coasted along the shores of South America,
turned aside to the Sandwich Islands, and setting sail
thence, spent the autumn of 1786 in exploring the coasts
of Upper California. He then steered across the ocean to
China; discovering Necker Island on the way, and exa¬
mined the almost unknown coasts of Eastern Asia as far as
Avatcha in Kamschatka, where the orders of the Russian
empress procured him a kindly welcome. From this point
he despatched his comrade De Lesseps overland to France
with his diaries, maps, plans, &c. Leaving Avatcha towards
the end of 1787, La Perouse turned his prow to the Navi¬
gator Islands, where he lost an officer and twelve men in
an encounter with the natives. To refit in peace, he next
sailed to Botany Bay, where the English were then estab¬
lishing their first Australian colony. Here he brought
down the narrative of his travels to the latest date, and
transmitted it to Europe, with a letter, in which he gave a
short sketch of his plans for the future. FYom this time
he was never again heard of. Various expeditions were
sent out in quest of him, but without effect. His fate was
involved in mystery till the year 1826, when an English
seaman, Captain Dillon, came upon the wrecks of his
squadron in the island of Wanikoro (or, as it is called by
the French, He de la Recherche), one of the Queen Char¬
lotte Islands. The relics, consisting of cannons, anchors,
&c., were brought home, and deposited in the national gal¬
leries of the Louvre, where they are now preserved. La
Perouse’s journals and letters were published at Paris in
1797, in 4 vols. 4to.
PERPENDICULAR. See Geometry.
PERPIGNAN, a town of France, capital of the de¬
partment of Pyrenees-Orientales, stands, partly on the
slope of a hill, and partly in a level plain, on the right banks
of the Tet, at its confluence with the Basse, about 6 miles
above its mouth, and 80 miles S.W. of Montpellier. It
guards the passage between Spain and France by the
Eastern Pyrenees, and is now one of the most strongly
fortified places in France, the defences having been much
improved since 1815. In form it is nearly oval, being
PER
Perrault. about 2 miles in length by 1 in breadth. The defences
v v—> consist of a strong citadel, standing on the hill to the
S. of the town, and separated from it by a wide glacis; by
ramparts, bastions, redoubts, covered ways, &c. The inner
ramparts of the citadel were erected by the Emperor
Charles V., and the outer ones by Vauban. As the pro¬
vince of Roussillon, of which Perpignan was the capital,
belonged to Spain till its cession to France in 1659, it is
not to be wondered that the town retains much of its Span¬
ish character, and its inhabitants greatly resemble those of
Catalonia, on the other side of the mountains. The streets,
which are narrow and dirty, are in many parts covered over
with awnings, and in others with the wooden balconies of
the houses. These are almost all built in the Moorish
style, and hwe patios, or inner courts. In the citadel are
an old square tower, and the remains of a church with a
curious portal. The cathedral, which was begun in 1324,
consists of a wide and lofty nave ; and contains a beauti¬
fully-carved altar screen, and an ancient marble font. Near
this" building are the ruins of the older church of St Jean
le Vieux. The buildings of the ancient university contain
the public library of 20,000 volumes ; and the Dominican
church and convent are now used as an arsenal. Besides
the buildings already mentioned, there are a town-hall,
court-house, barracks, custom-house, theatre, college, dio¬
cesan school, botanic gardens, and two hospitals. Woollen
stuffs, lace, playing-cards, soap, brandy, and leather are the
principal articles manufactured ; and a considerable trade is
carried on in wines, brandy, oil, silk, wool, iron, cork, &c.
Perpignan is the seat of a bishop, and of courts of the
first instance and of commerce. In the year 1349, when
Roussillon belonged to the crown of Aragon, the univer¬
sity of Perpignan was founded by King Pedro. In 1474
the town was taken by Louis XL of France ; but having
been restored to Spain, it was again taken by Louis XIII.
in 1642; and, along with the province of Roussillon, finally
ceded to France by the treaty of the Pyrenees in 1659.
Pop. (1856) 19,844.
PERRAULT, Charles, was born at Paris on the
12th of January 1628, and studied at the college of Beau¬
vais, where he distinguished himself in scholastic disputa¬
tion, and in making verses. Having completed his studies,
he was admitted as advocate; but Colbert soon deprived
the law of his services, and, in the year 1664, appointed
him first commissary for the superintendence of royal
buildings. The Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and
Architecture, and that of Sciences, were founded on me¬
moirs drawn up by Charles Perrault, who had now become
comptroller-general of buildings; and he was admitted
into the French Academy in 1671, in the room of the
Bishop of Leon. But the impracticable character of Col¬
bert having at length wearied out his patience, he retired
from his public situation, and, devoting himself to literature,
produced his poem entitled Siecle de Louis XIV., which
appeared in 1687, and involved him in a war with the
learned, by reason of his exalting the modern in compari¬
son with the ancient authors. He defended himself, how¬
ever, in the Par allele des Anciens et Modernes, which ap¬
peared at Paris in 1688, and excited the antagonism of
Boileau in his Reflexions sur Longint In addition to the
works just mentioned, Charles Perrault wrote a consider¬
able number of poetical pieces now all but forgotten. 1 ei -
rault died at Paris on the 16th of May 1703. His son Per¬
rault d’Armacourt was the author of the well-known
Contes de Fees, which contain the nursery classics of
“ Cinderella,” See. „
Perrault, Claude, a celebrated architect, the brother of
Charles, was born at Paris in the year 1613. His father, an
advocate of the Parliament, caused him to study medicine,
anatomy, and the mathematics; and he even took the de-
gree of Doctor of Physic in the faculty of Paris. But Co -
VOL. XVII.
PER
bert having advised him to undertake a translation of Vitru¬
vius, the studies in which he found it necessary to engage in
order to understand that writer inspired him with a decided
taste for architecture, and gave a new direction to his pur¬
suits. When the Academy of Sciences was established in ■
1666, Perrault was admitted a member of this body, and
was employed to furnish designs and building-plans for the
Observatory. But this edifice, which, with all its merits, is
in a heavy style, was far from giving any indication of the
talents which Perrault afterwards displayed. His grand
work is the palace of the Louvre, the facade of which was
designed by him, and is certainly one of the noblest monu¬
ments of architecture in France. The building had been
commenced, and even part of the facade raised, according
to the designs of Lavau. But Colbert, dissatisfied with
these, appealed to the genius of other architects; and Per¬
rault produced a design so superior to those of his compe¬
titors that it obtained a decided preference. Perrault fur¬
nished designs for other works, particularly the triumphal
arch erected at the extremity of the Rue Saint-Antoine,
the foundation-stone of which was laid on the 6th of August
1670; and in all his works he displayed that superiority of
genius which was first exhibited in his translation of Vitru¬
vius, particularly in the plates with which it was enriched,
and which have ever been considered as masterpieces of
their kind. The first edition of this work appeared in 1673,
and the second in 1684, in 1 vol. fol.; after which the
translator published an abridgment in 1 vol. 12mo; and a
supplement, entitled Ordonnances des Cinq Especes de
Colonnes selon la Methode des Anciens, in 1 vol. fol. Of
his other productions the principal are,—Essais de Phy¬
sique, 1680-8, 2 vols. 4to, and 4 vols. 12mo ; Memoires
pour servir d VHistoire Naturelle des Aniniaux, Paris,
1671-6, in folio; Recueil d’un grand Nombre des Ma¬
chines de son Invention, Paris, 1700, in 1 vol. 4to.
Claude Perrault assisted his brother Charles in preparing
the memoirs relating to the establishment of the Academy
of Sciences, and that of painting and sculpture, and took a
warm interest in the success of that institution. He died
at Paris on the 9th of October 1688, in consequence, it is
believed, of having wounded himself whilst dissecting, in
the Jardin du Roi, a camel which had died of some con¬
tagious disease. ^ .
PERROT D’ABLANCOURT, Nicolas, a French
translator, was born at Chalons-sur-Marne in 1606, an
was called to the French bar at the age of eighteen. His
disposition seems to have been impulsive and changeable.
He grew tired of law in a short time, and betoo imse
to literature. He became fastidious about re igion, an
passed from Protestantism to Popery, and from Popery
back to Protestantism. Nor was he less undecided as to
his place of abode. He retired from Pans to Holland, eft
Holland to sojourn in England, returned from England to
Paris, and ultimately fixed his residence at his family seat
of Ablancourt. Yet; in the meantime, Perrot was steadily
engaged in translating Tacitus, Thucydides, Caesar, Lu¬
cian Minutius Felix, the Anabasis of Xenophon, four
Orations of Cicero, Arrian’s Wars of Alexander,Jron-
tinuV Strategematica, and the Apophthegms of the an¬
cients These translations were appreciated on their hist
appearance for the elegance and happy freedom with which
they gave the sense of the originals. They were, however,
deficient in correctness, a fault which has long since led to
their complete neglect. The death of Perrot happened in
PERRY James, an eminent newspaper editor, was
born in Aberdeen in 1756, and was educated at Marischal
College in his native town. His settlement in life was at¬
tended with considerable difficulty. He had scarcely begun
to study law when the pecuniary misfortunes of his father
threw him loose upon the world. His application for a
o Q-
417
Perrot
d’Ablan¬
court
11
Perry.
418 PER
Perry clerkship in Edinburgh was unsuccessful. He indeed ob-
|| tained a situation in the counting-house of a Manchester
Perseus, merchant; but he left it at the end of two years to repair
to London as a literary adventurer. Thither his ill-luck
likewise followed him. It was not until many days had
passed that an accident made known his literary abilities,
and procured for him the situation of a stipendiary writer
both to the General Advertiser and to the London Even¬
ing Post. Perry now entered upon a successful career in
newspaper literature. In 1 782 his skill in the profession
had become so great that he was able to start and conduct
a periodical called The European Magazine. Appointed
editor of The Gazetteer in the following year, he conferred
a great service upon the journalism of the country by in¬
troducing the custom of employing in the reporting of any
public speech a series of reporters instead of one. His
success at length attained its height when he became editor
and joint-proprietor of the Morning Chronicle. He con¬
tinued in that position till his death on the 6th December
1821. Perry was the author of several ephemeral pamph¬
lets and poems.
PERRY, a pleasant and wholesome liquor extracted
from pears in the same manner as cider is from apples.
(See Cider.)
PERSdEUS, a philosopher who flourished about 260
B.C., is famous for his connection with the Stoic Zeno. Pie
was born in the same Cretan town, Cittium; settled in the
same city, Athens; lived in the same house; and adopted
the same opinions. So highly indeed did the teacher of
the Porch favour him that, when unable through old age
to accept an invitation to the court of Antigonus Gonatus,
he sent him in his stead. This honour is said to have been
the occasion of the death of Persaeus. Appointed by his
royal patron to the command of Corinth, he was slain at
the capture of that city in 243 B.C.
PERSEPOLIS, an ancient city of Persia, stood near
the confluence of the Medus and the Araxes, on the spa¬
cious plain now called Merdusht. It was one of the wonders
of the East. According to Arrian and other writers, it
was from the most ancient times the capital of the Persian
empire. At any rate, it is almost certain that in the reign
of Darius Hystaspes it began to assume an unparalleled
splendour, by becoming the site of a magnificent pile of
architecture. To afford a foundation for this huge fabric,
there was cut out from the side of a neighbouring hill, at a
great distance from the ground, an immense platfoim in
the shape of a series of terraces. 1 hese terraces wei e
covered with sculptured porticoes, gigantic statues, and co¬
lossal temples and palaces. Each Persian king in succes¬
sion extended and enriched the magnificent structuie,
until it became the crown and glory of the East. I he
splendour of Persepolis, however, seems to have begun to
decline at the time of the overthrow of the Persian empbe.
Alexander the Great burned a considerable part of it, in¬
cluding its royal palace. After the date at which, accoiding
to the Second Book of Maccabees, Antiochus Epiphanes
attempted to plunder its temples, it disappears altogether
from the page of history. Yet the tall white forms of
several columns, standing sentinel over the remains of many
temples and palaces on the solitary plain of Merdusht, still
preserve the memory of the long-perished glories of Per¬
sepolis. (A full account of these magnificent ruins is given
in Sir R. K. Porter’s Travels, Vaux’s Nineveh and Per-
s'epolis, and Fergusson’s Palaces of Nineveh and Persepolis
Restored. See also Persia.)
PERSEUS, the son of Jupiter and Danae, and the
grandson of Acrisius, King of Argos, was renowned in
PER
classical fable for his wonderful adventures. No sooner Perseus
had he come into the world than he was doomed to face II
difficulty and danger. His nervous old grandfather, terri- Pershore-
fied by a prediction of the Pythian oracle, placed him and
his mother into a chest, and sent them adrift down the
Argolic Gulf. The wind wafted them across the Myrtoan
Sea to the island of Seriphos, and they fell into the hands
of Polydectes, the selfish king of the country. At the
court of that prince Perseus lived until he had grown up
to be a brave and godlike young man. Then his royal
patron, overawed by his superior presence, and anxious to
get rid of him, commanded him to set out and bring home
the head of the dreaded Gorgon Medusa. To this danger¬
ous enterprise the youth set himself with eager alacrity.
His first measure was to repair to the house of the Graiae,
—three old prophetic crones, who had only one tooth and
one eye for their common use. Coming upon them un¬
awares, and snatching their eye and tooth, he compelled
them, on pain of never recovering their precious organs, to
mumble out where he would get the equipment necessary
for his expedition. By their direction he found the dwell¬
ing of certain nymphs, and was there supplied with winged
shoes to carry him through the air, and with the helmet
of Hades to render him invisible. Minerva added a mirror ;
and the youthful hero was now ready to dare the perilous
exploit. Speeding westward through the clouds, he alighted
in the country of the Gorgons, a land situated on the shore
of the solitary ocean, and near the abode of eternal Night.
He stepped slowly forward, averting his head lest the sight
of the monsters should turn him into stone, and using the
mirror to ascertain what was in front of him. Suddenly
there appeared in the glass the sleeping forms of the three
dread Gorgons, with their snaky locks, golden wdngs, and
brazen hands. He struck off the head of Medusa, seized
it in his hand, and sped away through the air, pursued in
vain by the two remaining sisters. Another adventure
awaited Perseus on his flight homewards. After turning,
by means of the wonder-working head, the inhospitable
Atlas into a mountain, he was passing over Ethiopia wheiy
looking down, he saw Andromeda, the lovely daughter of
King Cepheus chained to a rock, and ready to be devoured
by a sea-monster. He descended, slew the monster, and
won the heart and hand of the liberated maiden. The re¬
maining days of Perseus were not so eventful. After pre¬
senting the Gorgon’s head to Minerva, he is said to have
settled down for life as king of Tiryns, and to have occu¬
pied himself in founding the cities of Mideia and Mycenae.
Perseus, the last king of Macedonia, succeeded his
father Philip V. in 179 B.C., w'as dethroned by the Romans
in 167 b.c., and died in captivity at Alba not long after¬
wards. (See Macedonia.)
PERSHORE, a market-town of England, county of
Worcester, in a beautiful situation on the right bank of the
Avon, here crossed by a bridge, 10 miles S.E. of W orcester,
and 102 W.N.W. of London. It is well built, and con¬
sists principally of one long street. The church of Holy
Cross, a fine remnant of the ancient abbey church, has a
transept and a high square tower of Norman architecture ;
while the chancel, now used for worship, is in the early
English style. There is also a small old church of St
Andrew, and places of worship belonging to Baptists, Wes¬
leyan Methodists, and Mormons. National and infant
schools, and a mechanics’ institution, exist here. A county
court is held ; and there is an annual fair held on the 26th
of June. Some of the people are employed in making
stockings; and a retail trade is carried on. Pop. (1851)
2717.
419
P E E S I A.
Persia. Of the countries which have been the ancient seats of
mankind, not one is more famous than Persia; and late lin¬
guistic and ethnological discoveries have revived and
strengthened the interest attaching to a region which, with
Assyria, Armenia, Arabia, and Egypt, supplies the most
ancient records of the human race. I he boundaries of
Persia have fluctuated more than those of any other king¬
dom in the world, from the period when its monarchs rose
from the government of a province to all but universal
empire, down to the time when they again sank into in¬
significance as the rulers of a second-rate Asiatic state.
In illustration of this remark, the limits of the country will
be noticed under three epochs,—viz., previous to the ac¬
cession of Cyrus, under Darius Hystaspes, and as they now
exist. In the first-mentioned period Persia nearly coin¬
cided with the modern province of Ears.1 It was bounded
on the W. by the Persian Gulf and Susiana, or by the
Gulf, and a line drawn from a little to the northward of
the point where the 30th degree of N. Eat. and 50th of E.
Long, intersect each other, to the S. borders of Media;
on the N. by Media, which came down to the 32d degree
of N. Eat. ; on the E. by Carmania {Karmdri),—that is, by
a crescent-shaped line from the 32d parallel and the 55th
degree of E. Long., to the coast opposite the isle of
Kishm in the 27tirparallel; and on the S. by the Persian
Gulf. Ancient Persia, then, properly so called, did not ex¬
ceed 300 miles in length from N. to S., and 230 in breadth
from E. to W. In the reign of Darius Hystaspes the empire
had been so vastly extended that it contained all the
countries between the Indus and Sir rivers, the Aral, Cas¬
pian, Black, and Aegean seas, the Mediterranean, Red
Sea, and Persian Gulf, and in addition, Thrace and
Egypt, with part of Libya. It must be noted, however,
that the original Persia, with probably somewhat increased
dimensions, was still reckoned a distinct province; for it is
specially mentioned as exempt from tribute, which the
rest of the empire, divided into twenty satrapies or subor¬
dinate kingdoms, was compelled to pay to the amount of
14,560 talents, or about three and a half millions of our
money.2 In the inscriptions at Behistun, Persepolis, and
Naksh-i-Rustam, lists of the provinces are given, of which
it will be sufficient to mention the Behistun list. It is as
follows:—Persia, Susiana, Babylonia, Assyria, Arabia, Egypt,
Saparda, Ionia, Media, Armenia, Cappadocia, Parthia, Za-
rangia, Aria, Chorasmia, Bactria, Sogdiana, Gandaria, Sacia,
Sattagydia, Arachosia, Media. The Persia of the present
day is bounded on the S. by the Indian Ocean and the
Persian Gulf; on the W. by a line drawn from the 30th
parallel along the left bank of the ShatuT’Arab to Mu-
hammarah, and thence along the Kabir KCih, or “ Great
Mountain,’’apart of the Zagros range, which forms the west¬
ern boundary of Luristan ; thence, by a curving line which
passes about 15 miles to the N.N.W. of Kizil Robat; and
then, running 20 miles to the W. of Lake Urumiyah,
touches Mount Ararat a few miles to the E. of Baiyazid.
The northern boundary is the River Aras, from Mount Ara¬
rat to within 60 miles of the Caspian Sea ; thence a waving
line which touches the Caspian 5 miles to the N. of As-
tara, in Lat. 33. 40.; and finally the Caspian Sea and the
desert of Khiva from Kasan Kuli to Sharakhs. On the
E., Persia is bounded by a line drawn along the 61st de¬
gree of E. Long., from Sharakhs to the 33d parallel, when
Persia.
the frontier curves in to the W. to about 100 miles, and re¬
turns in an easterly direction along the mountains which — ^ —
form the eastern boundary of Karman, finally curving
back to the W. until it meets the Indian Ocean 10 miles
to the E. of Cape Jask, in Long. 58. 5.
With the exception of the provinces of Mazandarun and Aspect of
Gilan, and other parts of less extent, the general aspect ofthe coun‘
Persia is that of poverty and barrenness. It has beentry*
termed a country of mountains ; and a large portion of its
surface is certainly mountainous, diversified with exten¬
sive tracts of desert plains, in which salt is the chief produc¬
tion, and, in small proportion, chiefly along the banks of
the rivers, with beautiful valleys and rich pasture-lands.
The valleys are not generally broad, but some are of great
length, being often more than a hundred miles. The
greater part of the country may be described as a table¬
land, supported on every side by high mountains. This
table-land is shut in on the W. by the lofty mountain chain
of Zagros ; on the N. by that of Alburj (Elburz), or “ The
Tower,”3 which cuts off from it the provinces of Gilan, Ma¬
zandarun and Astarabad; and on the S. by a lower range
of hills, which runs parallel to the Persian Gulf and the In¬
dian Ocean, at a distance of from 50 to 150 miles all the
way from Abushahr (Bushire) to Karachi. On the E.
alone there is no continuous chain of hills until the Sulai-
man and Hiila mountains are reached, in the countries bor¬
dering on the Indus ; and the line of demarcation in that
direction, between Persia, Afghanistan, and Biluchistan, is
not well defined. The average elevation of this plateau
is nearly that of Tehran, or 4000 feet, and seldom sinks to
3000 feet, which is the elevation conjecturally assigned to
it by Fraser. Two-thirds of this table-land are said to be
desert.4 There are no rivers of any magnitude ; and what
streams there are, the majority of them at least, lose them¬
selves in the sands. From Kashan, in Lat. 34., E. Long.
51. 20., the Great Salt Desert extends eastward 400 miles
to Lake Zarah in Sistan, and 250 miles from Karman north¬
wards to Mazandarun. The sandy desert of Sigistan is
of about the same extent.0 _ tit.
The aspect of the Persian mountains is peculiarly bare
and forbidding, rising abruptly from the plain, and present¬
ing nothing to the eve but huge masses of gray rock piled
upon each other; and even when they are covered with a
little mouldering rock, they are still without either wood
or shrubs. If for about two months in spring a scanty ver¬
dure clothe their sides, it is scorched by the heat of sum¬
mer, and the country soon resumes its former barren aspect,
and dreary, monotonous, reddish-brown colour. JNor
is the appearance of the plains more inviting consist¬
ing for the most part of gravel washed down from the
mountains, or of other equally unproductive matter, in deep
and extensive beds, or of a hard clay, which, where water is
wanting a in most parts of Porsia is bare and barren.
-The livery of the whole land,” says Fraser “ is constantly
brown or gray, except during the two months of April and
May.” Amongst other disadvantages, Persia labours under
a general scarcity of water. The rivers are few and small,
and rivulets by no means common, so that irrigation can
only be applied to a small portion of the land. Il|f
best districts,” says the above-mentioned traveller, the
small proportion of cultivated land resembles an oasis in
the desert, serving by contrast to make all around it more
1 Rawlinson’s Herodotus, vol i.. p. 575.
4 Chesney’s Expedition, vol. i., p. 78.
6 Chesney’s Expedition, vol. i., p. 79.
i ••• v. 3 Ferrier’s Caravan Journeys, p. 54.
«*>*•rmim Emr>rc’pp-20 “d 22-
420 PERSIA.
Persia, dreary. Plains and mountains are equally destitute of wood:
—v^''' the only trees to be seen are in the gardens of villages or
on the banks of streams, where they are planted for the
purpose of affording the little timber that is used in build¬
ing : they chiefly consist of fruit trees, the noble chinar or
oriental plane, the tall poplar, and the cypress; and the
effect which a garden of these trees produces, spotting writh
its dark green the gray and dusky plain, is rather melan¬
choly than cheering.”1
As already mentioned, the provinces of Mazandarun and
Gilan, adjoining the Caspian Sea, with parts of Azarbijan,
form exceptions to this general description. These pro¬
vinces are divided from the high table-land of Persia by the
great range of the Alburj Mountains, which are connected
with the mountains of Armenia, and with the mighty Cau¬
casus chain, and eastward by a continuous chain, with
the great ridge of the Hindu Kuh. They take an east¬
erly course along the shore of the Caspian Sea, and send
various ramifications southward; whilst other elevated
ridges spring from the Caucasian Mountains, and penetrate
the country in a S.E. direction, dividing the provinces of
’Irak and Khuzistan, and extending along the shores of the
Persian Gulf, and with other parallel chains farther in the
interior, into the province of Makran. The Caucasian
chain forms the barrier between the empires of Turkey and
Persia ; it occupies the space between the Black Sea and
the Caspian ; and it is inhabited by barbarous tribes, who
owned at any time but an imperfect allegiance to Persia,
and who have been now brought chiefly under the more
rigorous sway of Russia. The Alburj Mountains, whose
average height is from 6000 to 8000 feet, present their
loftiest face to the interior desert; yet they sweep down in
a manner so gradual, that the valleys and ravines which
they form are found to contain rich and fertile lands, well
watered by numerous rivulets, and well cultivated and
peopled. The loftiest peak of this range is Mount Dema-
wend, which rises to the height of 15,000 feet2, and is
covered with perpetual snow; while the rest of the range
is covered only from November until Midsummer. Fifty-
five miles S. and by E. of the peak of Demawend, accord¬
ing to Ferrier,3 is that remarkable pass, forming a strong
barrier against the progress of an invader, which was de¬
nominated by the ancients the Caspian Gates, now called
the Pass of Sardari, which for 28 miles was said to be a
narrow road between high rocks, through which a single
chariot could scarcely pass, and where a handful of men
might oppose the advance of an army. The districts at
the southern base of the Alburj range are beautifully di¬
versified with wood, water, and mountains, in their most
varied forms, and present a luxuriant verdure all the year
round. In the slope of the mountains opposite to Tehran
is the delightful tract of Shamirun4 (or Sham’a-i- Irun, ‘ 1 he
Light of Persia”), about 20 miles in length, “ containing
nearly forty villages, clustered together amid gardens ^and
groves, with streams of water from the heights above, to
which all the inhabitants of Tehran, who can afford it, re¬
sort in summer. On the northern side of these mountains,
the provinces of Mazandarun and Gilan, and the district
of Astarabad, are equally fruitful and productive. Mazan¬
darun is most celebrated for its culture of rice, which is of
very superior quality. In the central provinces of Fars,
’Irak, and Khurasan, the valleys are generally level; in
Azarbijan, to the W. of the Caspian Sea, they lie between
a succession of eminences; and Kurdistan, to the N., is
almost one immense cluster of small mountains, intersected
occasionally by loftier ranges, on which extend table-lands
of great elevation, and subject to extreme cold, as in other Persia,
parts of Persia.5 The mountain range which commences
near Shiraz, approaches close to the sea in Long. 55., and
at Cape Jask has an elevation of 5000 feet. It decreases
in height as it runs eastwards. The salt deserts which oc¬
cur in various parts of the country form one of the most
striking objects in its scenery, and may be distinguished
from the general dreariness of the country by a saline
efflorescence, which is seen glistening in the rays of a
fierce sun. This appearance, extending over an immense
plain, varied by a black rock here and there protruding
from its surface, its image contorted into a thousand wild
and varying shapes by the effect of the mirage, which pro¬
duces the most curious optical illusions on those wide ex¬
tended level tracts, is a sure indication of the total deso¬
lation which reigns around. The Great Salt Desert,
between Kashan and Tabbas, is the most remarkable
of these tracts, and occupies a vast space in the centre
of the country. It forms a long inlet between the dis¬
trict of Tehran on the N., and Kum on the S., com¬
mencing about E. Long. 50., and on the 33d parallel, and
trenching on the districts of Kashan and Isfahan, expands
after the 53d degree of E. Long, to a vast breadth, as far
E. as Tabbas, and on the S. insulating Yezd. On the
N.E. it extends as far as Turshxz, but with somewhat
more frequent interruptions ; and on the E. it is encroached
on by projections from the more cultivated districts of
Farah, Sabzawar, and Hirat. The appearance of these
deserts is not altogether uniform. In some places the
surface is dry, and produces plants which thrive in a salt
soil; in others the saline efflorescence is seen on a crack¬
ling crust of dry earth ; marshes occupy a considerable
portion of this country; and there is accumulated in the
winter months water, which is evaporated during the heats
of summer, leaving a quantity of salt in cakes upon a bed
of mud. In some places the soil is a perfectly hard-baked
and barren clay ; and in others, again, sand abounds, which
is formed into hillocks in the shape of waves by the wind,
and is so light and impalpable that it is blown aloft in
clouds, as in the Arabian deserts, by the violent N.W.
winds which prevail in summer, and proves dangerous, and
frequently fatal to travellers.6
Persia has hardly a single river that can be termed na- Rivers,
vigable, for the Euphrates and Tigris cannot be considered
as running within its territory. The Karun, which flows
into the Euphrates through the province of Khuzistan, and
the Aras or Araxes in Azarbijan, which flows into the
Black Sea, and the Safid Bud or White River, which falls
into the Caspian, are its two largest rivers. The Karun is
the largest affluent received by the Tigris in Mesopotamia,
and is formed of two streams. Of these, the Dizful rises
in Lat. 33. 50., and after a course of upwards of 200 miles
joins the Karun in about Lat. 31. 40. The Karun rises in
the Yellow Mountains, part of the Bakhtiyari range, in
Lat. 32., Long. 51., near the river of Isfahan ;7 and after
emerging from the hills, flows to Shustar, wdiere it is made
by a canal to pass E. and W. of the town. From the
point where these streams re-unite the Karun is a noble
river, exceeding in size the Tigris or Euphrates, and is
navigable for steamers. Its course hence, for upwards of
150 miles, is very tortuous, and it then falls into the Sha-
tu’l-’Arab near Muhammarah. Its total course, reckoning
from the source of the Dizful branch, is 430 miles; or
from the source of the Karun about 330. The Aras rises
in N. Lat. 40. 40., E. Long. 42. 40.,8 and flows almost due
S. to Long. 44., when it turns E., until near Erivan it again
1 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, p. 163.
2 Binning’s Two Years' Travel in Persia, vol. ii., p. 227.
3 Caravan Journeys, p. 59.
6 Sir J. Malcolm’s History of Persia, vol., i., p. 5.
7 Geo. Jour., vol. xvl., p. 50.
14 700 according to Ainsworth, Geo. Jour., vol. viii., part i., p. 112.
4 Binning, vol. ii., pp. 230, 231; and vol. i., p. 157, note.
6 Fraser’s Narrative, &c., chap. xi.
8 Chesney’s Euphrates Expedition, vol. i., p. 10.
PERSIA.
Persia, turns S., after receiving the waters of Lake Sivan. In Long.
^ —) 46. it again turns E., until in Long. 48. 40. it unites with the
Kur at Jasat. Its total course is about 750 miles. The Safid
Hud rises in Ardelan, in N. Lat. 35. 45., E. Long. 46. 45.,
and flows in a N.E. direction, but with a great sweep to
N.W., between Long. 48. and 49. 15., into the Caspian.
Its total course is 490 miles. The Helmand cannot with any
propriety be termed a Persian river, as it flows eastward of
Persia, through the independent territory of Afghanistan.
. The principal Persian lake is Lake Urumiyah. Ibis
lake is 80 miles in length from N. to S., and 20 miles in
breadth. Its chief feeders are the rivers Aji Su, or River
of Tabriz, and the Jagetu and Tatau. The Aji Su rises
in N. Lat. 38. 10., E. Long. 47. 45., and after leaving the
city of Tabriz, 5 miles off on its left bank, enters the Urumi¬
yah Lake in Lat. 37. 48., Long. 45. 40. Its total course is
about 180 miles. The Jagetu has a total course of 140
miles. It rises in Lat. 35. 40., Long. 46. 30., and enters the
lake in Lat. 37. 13., Long. 45. 52 The course of the Tatau
is about 90 miles. The greatest depth of the Urumiyah Lake
is 24 feet, but the average is not more than 12. It stretches
from N. Lat. 37. 5. to 38. 15., and lies 4300 feet above the
sea-level. Ten miles to the W. of it is a town of the same
name, the birth-place of Zartasht or Zoroaster. It con¬
tains 25,000 inhabitants, of whom 22,000 are Muhamma¬
dans, and the rest Jews and Nestorians. Several mounds
of nearly 100 feet high, composed of ashes, show where the
great altars were situated. The lake is now fast drying
up, and around it for several miles are tracts of spark¬
ling salt. The waters of the lake are intensely salt, and so
heavy that the strongest wind has little effect upon them.
If stirred by a tempest, they subside almost immediately
when a lull takes place. Phe whole of Kurdistan is sup¬
plied with salt from this lake.
Soil and The nature of the soil in Persia may be inferred from
products, the description given by travellers of the aspect of the coun¬
try. Yet it is extraordinary how vegetation thrives in the
country, even with the rudest cultivation, whenever there is
the smallest supply of moisture. Morier mentions that in the
plain of Abushahr (i?Ms/«Ve), which stretches into the interior
from the Persian Gulf, which all travellers agree in calling
a barren land, and which has no other moisture than the
dews, and occasionally winter showers, the seed produces
one hundred to seven; and that a sprinkling of seed, with
the most superficial furrows, returns everywhere in this dis¬
trict abundant produce. The same traveller observed, in
his journey from Tehran to Tabriz, several spots where, by
the aid of water, the country was one carpet of verdure.
Water in Persia is so essential to vegetation, that almost the
only species of improvement which is carried on is the con¬
struction of subterranean canals, for the purpose of convey¬
ing water to lands which are destitute of any natural supply.
These canals, when they are finished, are often let at high
rents. Fraser mentions one small stream which brought
an annual rent of 4000 rupees, equal (the Persian rupee be¬
ing valued at Is. 4^d.) to L.375 ; and another canal, opened
by the governor of Kazarun, and employed in irrigating
a fruit-garden, was rented at five or six times that sum. I he
products of Persia are,—wheat of the finest quality, barley,
and other grains. Rice might easily be produced in the
southern provinces, were it not for the deficiency of water,
of which this grain requires so large a supply. I he vine
flourishes in several provinces ; and the wine of Shnaz
has often been highly celebrated, as well as the wines pro¬
duced from grapes raised upon the side of the Caucasian
Mountains. The vines of Shiraz are trained as standard
bushes, without any support, and are set, with some attention
to regularity, from eight to ten feet asunder. The mulberry
is produced in great abundance in the northern provinces
of Mazandarun and Gilan, of which silk is one of the ^
great staples, and also in other parts; and the rich and
well-watered plains of Gilan and Mazandarun yield in
abundance the sugar-cane, though the art of refining is
not understood in this rude and semi-barbarous country.
Amongst the other products of Persia which, being useful,
are articles of trade, are,—gum tragacanth ; assafoetida, the
plant of which grows in abundance on the plains and hills
near Turshiz1 and all round the city of Hirat; yellow berries;
saffron ; henna, but not so fine as that of Egypt; madder
roots, which grow wild upon the mountains, and are brought
down for sale by the Hats and other wandering tribes.
Gazanjubin2 (“ manna”) abounds in the province of Kar-
manshah. It is a deposit by a green fly on the back of
the leaf of the dwarf oak. The Persians mix it with
flour and sugar, and make it into cakes, which are exported
to all parts of Asia. In the district of Turbat Ishak Khan,
S.W. of Mahmudabad in Khurasan, opium and tobacco
are produced.3 Indigo is cultivated in Laristan, but is
not so fine as the indigo of India, which is largely imported
into Persia. The leaf is used for dyeing the beard, a cu¬
rious fashion in Persia, as in other parts of the East. Cot¬
ton is produced to supply the internal consumption; also
hemp and hops. Fruits are produced in the garden-grounds
in great abundance and perfection. The date is one of the
most important products, being used here, where the climate
is extremely hot, as an article of food, in the same manner
as in other parts of the East. Those produced at Dalaki,
four stages N.E. of Abushahr, in the province of Ears, are
celebrated over the country for richness and flavour. I he
other fruits are,—pomegranates, a luscious fruit here, and
much superior to those which are produced in 1 urkey, some
that Morier saw being twelve inches in circumference ;
sweet and water melons; the shaddock; limes; oranges, for
which the climate of the high table-lands is too cold, al¬
though they grow to perfection on the plains and on the
banks of the Caspian Sea ; apples; pears; apricots; pistachio-
nuts ; walnuts ; and some others. The melons of Isfahan
are the finest in the world.4 The species called Gurgab
is so large that two melons are a load for a donkey. I ie
quinces also are very fine. Timber is scarce on the and
plains, but in more favourable situations the soil seems
well adapted for the growth of wood, and indeed °f trees
of every description. The mountains of Gilan, Mazan¬
darun, and Azarbijan are clothed with the finest woods,
amongst which are the oak, the beech, the the alder
boxwood, with thickets of wild cherry and thorns an
luxuriant vines climbing up the trunks o e J,,
hanging in wild festoons from the one to the other. 4 he e
form a striking contrast to the long ranges of naked and
barren mountains in the central and southern provinces. In
several provinces grows the poppy, from which is made opium
of a very fine quality. The liquorice-piant covers the plains
of Merdasht, and the neighbourhood of Shiraz. I he ta
marind which flourished near the water-courses, and seve¬
ral 0f [he thorny plants that sprinkled the same districts,
had been superseded, when Fraser visited these par s by
various aromatic herbs, amongst which a species of fia-
Tt Irrt whicli^elds1 ^gum—^c* Ifc re‘
smbL hemlock, and rises to,he verl
dure -ra™it tlhen sofi.U rfjuicel that on the least scratch
it flows in streams to the ground, and congeals on the stalk.
It is thus gathered for sale. Such vegetables as carrots,
turnips cabbages, spinach, beet-root, and the like, are
common. In the more fertile parts of Persia flowers grow
421
Persia.
1 Fraser, Appendix B, p. 25.
2 Ferrier, p. 26.
3 Ferrier, p. 137.
4 Binning, vol. ii., p. 332.
422
PERSIA.
Persia.
Mineral
produc¬
tions.
to great perfection and luxuriance; the rose, and every
variety of the crocus species, primroses, violets, lilies,
hyacinths, and others no less lovely than unknown.1 Aio-
matic and thorny plants, and beautiful mountain shrubs,
also abound, and clothe the ground in all the rich attiie
of luxuriant vegetation.
Notwithstanding the numerous ranges of mountains which
intersect the country of Persia, its mineral resources aie
scantily developed, partly from ignorance of the art of
mining, and partly from the general indolence of the inha¬
bitants, owing to the discouragement of tyrannical and
rapacious rulers. There are several mines in the vicinity
of Yezd.2 One of lead at Baft, on the road to Karman, is
remarkably rich, and supplies the greater part ol 1 ersia
with that metal. There are also some mines of fine rock-
salt, and one of green marble. According to Mr Binning,3
“ excellent coal is found in the Alburj Mountains, and
is commonly used in preference to charcoal by the black¬
smiths in Tehran and in the arsenal. There are also
copper, lead, and iron mines in the mountains; and copper
is extracted in such quantities as to render it an aiticle of
exportation. There is little doubt that gold and silver
would be obtained if proper means were applied. In fact,
M. Ferrier (p. 117) expressly says that it is owing to the
want of science, and of fuel and water-power, that the gold
and silver mines at Davind, close to Mashhad ( Sepulchre of
the Ghazfs”), are not worked to advantage. About twenty
years ago a party of Scotch miners brought by Sir A. Bethune
Lindsay, were employed by the Persian government ^work¬
ing mines in the Karadagh Mountains, which contain most
extensive veins, but the short-sighted authorities put a
stop to their operations when most promising. The mi¬
neral production most common in Persia is salt, which, as
has been already mentioned, covers vast tracts, and occurs
everywhere in great abundance. All the lakes are salt,
and every considerable collection of water is impregnated
with this mineral. Salt mines are also found in different
parts. At Naishapur, in the north, there is a salt mine
consisting of three excavations, in each of which a vein of
salt is found from 6 to 18 inches in thickness. The salt
is beautifully white, and the crystals so clear that Mr Fraser
could see distinctly through a mass 2 inches in thickness,
as through a pane of glass. This mine pays a small rent;
and the salt is highly esteemed throughout the country. One
of the most remarkable productions of Persia is naphtha
or bitumen, which is burned by the natives in lamps in¬
stead of oil, and also answers all the purposes of pitch, being
used in covering the bottoms of the vessels which navi¬
gate the Euphrates. It is found in pits 3 feet in diameter, and
from 10 to 12 feet in depth, which are gradually filled
from springs. There is also another species of white
naphtha, different from the other, which is found floating
like a crust on the surface of the water, and affords a more
agreeable light than the black naphtha. A black and liquid
petroleum of an agreeable odour flows in small quantity
from a mountain in Karman ; it is reserved for the use of
the king, and is given away in presents. I he mines are
carefully sealed and guarded. The northern mountains of
Persia contain considerable varieties of valuable marble ;
and the turquoise stone, which is peculiar to the country,
is found in the rocks near the village of Madan, 32 miles
W. of Naishapur in Khurasan. The mines which produce
this stone were visited by Fraser in January 1822, who
(pp. 409-420) gives a detailed account of their produce, as
well as of the very rude manner in which they are woiked.
The hills in which these stones are found consist of a very
red and brown rock. The whole range is deeply tinged
with iron. The substances of which the rock is composed
are a dead gray earth, heavy, hard, brown rock, soft yellow Persia,
stone, and a rock which is pervaded with specular iron-ore.
There are five principal mines or pits from which the gem
is taken. The mode of management in these mines, which
from time immemorial have furnished these highly-valued
gems, is the most wretched that can be conceived.
The climate of Persia, in which, according to its latitude, Climate,
heat should predominate, is considerably modified by the
height of the ground ; so that, according to Kinneir, the
traveller may pass in a few hours from the air of Montpel-
' lier to the cold of Siberia.4 It is intensely cold during the
winter ; indeed, the highest ranges of mountains are covered
with snow during a part of the year, and some of the high¬
est peaks throughout the whole year. Demawend, in the
Alburj Mountains, was seen by Morier buried in deep snow
in May ; and in 1810, Kinneir mentions that the moun¬
tains were covered with snow in July. Severe storms also
prevail. To the N. of Shiraz, especially, cold predomi¬
nates, insomuch that in the vicinity of Tehran and Tabriz
all communication is frequently cut off for several weeks
between these cities and the adjoining villages. The cold
commences in October, and the winter is ushered in with
severe storms of snow. Fraser, after leaving Shiraz, suf¬
fered severely from cold in this month. The thermometer
fell to 28°, and on the next morning, the 27th of October,
to 20° ; and in the following month he arrived at Tehran,
after encountering so severe a storm ot snow that a travel¬
ler was carried to a caravanserai frozen to death on his
horse. In January, when Fraser was at Naishapur, which
is in the N. of Persia, in about Lat. 36. 25., the thermo¬
meter fell during the night to 16°, 19°, and 20°, and rose
during the day to 40° in the shade ; and in many parts the
temperature varies between the night and the day from
64° to 25° and 26°. The cold, especially to the N. of
Shiraz, continues, with short intervals of warmer wea¬
ther, till March or April. At Tehran, which is in the N.
of Persia, near the Alburj Mountains, Morier describes the
progress of the seasons and the vicissitudes of the tempera¬
ture. On the 10th of March there was a fall of snow, fol¬
lowed by an intense frost. On the 23d, the mildness of
spring was experienced. On the 19th of April the ther¬
mometer rose to 82° in the shade. At Shiraz, Morier men¬
tions that after the middle of June the thermometer was
scarcely ever under 100°. It then rose to 105°, 108°, and
110°. “When spring commences,” says Sir J. Malcolm,
“ there is perhaps no spot in the world where nature assumes
a more lovely garb than at Isfahan; the clearness of its
streams, the shade of its lofty avenues, the fragrant luxu¬
riance of gardens, and the verdant beauty of wide-spread¬
ing fields, combine with the finest climate to render it de¬
lightful.”5 The regularity of the seasons in this part of
Persia is extraordinary, and affords a remarkable contrast
to the sudden changes which take place in the northern
provinces. In Abushahr, to the S. of Shiraz, Fraser states
the range of the thermometer in July to be from 103° to
109° ; but during the night it remained at 90°. About the
end of August the weather became cooler, and the ther¬
mometer fell to 86° and 87°, and gradually during the day
to 75° and 70°. In these southern regions, which include
the provinces of Karman, Laristan, Pars, and Khuzistan,
situated between the mountains and the shores of the Per¬
sian Gulf, the heat is increased by the barren and sandy
plains with which this tract abounds. The hot winds known
under the name of the simoom or sirocco prevail occasion¬
ally, but are not attended with danger, owing to the nar¬
rowness of the space between the sea and the mountains.
In winter and spring the climate is delightful. It is never
very cold; and snow seldom falls on the southern face of
1 Fraser, chap, xxiii. 2 Fraser, Appendix B, p. 24.
4 Geographical Memoir of the Persian Empire, p. 21.
3 Two Years' Travel in Persia, vol. ii., p. 227.
6 History of Persia, vol. ii., chap. xxiv.
Persia.
Animals.
I
PERSIA.
423
the mountains by which these provinces are divided from
the N. of Persia.1 Upon the whole, however, the climate
of this country, notwithstanding the sudden transitions from
heat to cold in some of the provinces, is very healthy ; the
air is dry, and the atmosphere always clear, so that the
brightest polished metal may be exposed to it without being
rusted. Nor are the dews insalubrious ; whilst at night
the planets shine with a lustre unknown in the cloudy skies
of the N. It seldom rains, and there are consequently
none of those damp and pestiferous exhalations so common
in the woody parts of Hindustan. ' The fertile provinces of
Gilan and Mazandarun, and the district of Astarabad, which
are subjected to the periodical visitation of disease, form
the only exceptions to this general character. The heavy
rains which fall in these mountainous regions, stagnating in
the deep forests, turn them into impassable marshes, which,
becoming putrid from the quantity of vegetable matter
that they receive, exhale during the heats of summer
and autumn a most pestilential vapour; so that the wandering
tribes of these countries fly from its influence, and prefer
living on the verge of the burning sand, and carrying their
water from the distant river, to the least exposure to these
noxious effluvia. Those who are forced to remain suffer
severely from fevers, putrid as well as intermittent, from
dropsies arising from cold, rheumatic affections, palsies, and
other maladies. The appearance of the people, however,
Fraser remarked, did not indicate either weakness or dis¬
ease, for they were remarkably stout and athletic.
The domestic animals of Persia are the camel, the horse,
the mule, the ass, the goat, sheep, cow, &c. The Persians
are expert and fearless horsemen ; and they have different
breeds of horses peculiar to the country. The native horse
of Persia has been improved, both in strength and bottom,
by an admixture of Arabian blood. But the original breed,
which is now restored, is a tall, lank, ill-formed, and gene¬
rally vicious animal, which often vents its rage upon its
neighbours or its riders by kicking or biting them. It is
useful, indeed, for hard work; but is not to be compared,
for the purposes of riding, with the action and docility of the
Arab. There is another race of horses, reared by the lur-
kaman hordes, not so much distinguished by grace or beauty
as by its hardiness and patience of fatigue, for which it is
celebrated all over Asia. It is said to have been crossed
with an Arabian breed imported by Nadir Shah. I he na¬
tive horses are noted for size and bone, which appear to be
indigenous; but figure and blood they owe to their Arab
progenitors. “ They have,” says Fraser, “ large and power¬
ful quarters, resembling those of the English horse; the
shoulders are often fine ; their legs clean and strong ; though
generally spare of flesh, what they have is firm and good ;
and not being burdened with a load of fat, they support the
weight of the rider for an astonishing length of time. I heir
powers of endurance are almost incredible. I hey will
carry their riders for seven or eight days together at tlm
rate of 80 or a 100 miles a day. There is also a breed of
ponies, fully as remarkable, if not superior to the large
horses in their powers of enduring fatigue. Such horses
cost a sum of money equal in value to from L.150 to L.200
sterling, and those of the best quality from L.350 to L.400.
These horses are used in plundering expeditions ; and they
are chiefly prized on this account for their hardy qualities.
In the parched and sandy tracts of Persia exposed to great
latter pay no attention to improve the breed. The dog,
though esteemed an unclean animal by the Muhammadans, ^
is yet found so useful that every prejudice has given way ;
and a very fierce breed is maintained by the wandering
tribes, for guarding their flocks and tents, and aiding in
their field sports. The desolate parts of Persia abound in
wild animals, amongst which may be numbered the lion
(which is seen along the woody banks of the rivers), the
tiger, the wolf, the jackal, the hyaena, the fox (found in great
numbers, of a white colour), the porcupine, the wild sheep,
the mountain goat, the wild ass, the wild boar, the antelope,
and deer in great variety. Tigers are seldom seen, but it
is certain that they are to be found, as it is mentioned that
the skin of a royal tiger, which was killed in the neighbour¬
hood of Tabriz, was exhibited, and was in possession of
Mr Campbell. A tiger was also seen by the shepherds at
the time that he was at Tabriz; and one of the Persian
princes had gone out to hunt, with a large retinue, in the
hope of meeting it. The wild ass is common in Persia, but
is extremely shy, and not easily caught. Morier mentions
that one morning, in the desert, they gave chase to two wild
asses ; but these distanced the horses at such a rate that
they stood still and looked behind at them, “ snorting with
their noses in the air, as if in contempt of our endeavours
to catch them.” The hunters sometimes succeed in killing
them, but it requires great dexterity and knowledge of their
haunts ; and then it is only by relays of horses and dogs
upon the track which they are known to pursue. The
same traveller also observed large herds of antelopes, to
which he gave chase, but could never come up except with
one big with young ; so great is the speed of this beautiful
animal. The wild hog abounds in Persia, and is exceed¬
ingly fierce. Fraser, along with a party of well-mounted
Turkamans, joined in chasing a herd of them ; and one
being singled out, was assailed with swords and spears,
which made no impression on his tough hide ; and though
wounded by a pistol-shot, he continued his flight until an
old man, mounted on a powerful 1 urkaman horse, rode up,
and wheeled rapidly round, when the steed, trained to toe
work, struck the hog on the head with its heels, and tum¬
bled it over dead on the spot. 1 he wild sheep is a very
fine animal, bold, portly, and very strong ; thick like a lion
about the neck and shoulders, and small in the loins ; co¬
red with short reddish hair curled loosely about the neck
Persia.
and fore quarters, and bearin
and twisted horns.
an immense pair of crooked
The northern division of Persia, or the ancient divi!5iulls.
ma, comprehends three provinces,-—Gilan, Mazandarun,
and Astarabad, which are here named as situated from .
to E. On the W. are four provinces, which, naming them
from N. to S., are,—Azarbijan (the ancient Atropatene),
Ardalan or Kurdistan, Lunstan and Khuzistan. Of these,
Luristan is divided into the Greater and Less. On the
S are Pars, Luristan, and Karman (the ancient Cara-
mania); on the E. is Khurasan, corresponding to the an¬
cient Aria and Bactria, and including the provinces of
Yezd Tabbas, Kaen and Birjun, lurslnz, Mashhad,
Damghan, and Semnun, and the Great Salt Desert. Cen¬
tral Persia is named Trak-i-’Aj on, and comprises on the
N., Khamsah, Kasvin, and Tehran; and S. of these, Ha-
madan, Kum, and Isfahan. . ... . , Cities and
If the face of the country in Persia disappoint the Euio- towns>
will be still less gratified
m me parcnea ana sanay tracts or reisia expuscu uw traveller his expectations will be still less gratineu
heats, camels are preferred, for carrying burdens, to other pea ’f tlie towns, which present to him one mass
animals, and they constitute the chief wealth of the mha- by T an(j ruins . for which, forming his ideas of
bitants; but in almost all the other parts of the kingdom
mules are more generally used for transport, on account
of their extraordinary strength and activity, and their power
of enduring fatigue. Sheep are very abundant in Persia,
and constitute the wealth of the wandering tribes; but the
the eastern towns from what he has read of Isfahan, Bagh¬
dad Shiraz, Basra, and other famous cities, he can
scarcely be prepared. He looks in vain for the hum of a
crowded population and the bustle of business which am-
1 History of Persia, vcl. ii-, chap. xxiv.
424
PERSIA.
Persia, mate the cities of Europe. Instead of the road crowded
with passengers, vehicles, and an active traffic, bordered
with hedge-rows and green inclosures, and with gay habi¬
tations, he has to thread his way through narrow and dirty
lanes, amidst ruins of mud walls and old buildings, amongst
heights and hollows, and clay-pits that produce bricks, and
high inclosures that conceal the only verdure the place can
boast; till at last he reaches the dilapidated walls of the
city, and, entering the gateway, watched by a few squalid
guards, he finds himself in a mean bazar, or more probably
in a confusion of mere rubbish. There are no streets, and
scarcely a house; for it is only the dwellings of the poor
which are seen, the houses of the rich being careful y
shrouded from the view by high walls of mud or of raw
bricks ; and outside of these are clustered, with the utmost
contempt of order, the houses of the poor. Ihere is
scarcely room for a loaded ass to pass between the narrow
passages that give access to these dwellings; and as no
attempt is made to level the paths, the passenger has to
make his way over all impediments, diving into hollows,
scrambling amongst ruins, stumbling over grave-stones, 01
falling into holes, especially at night, as the only stieet
lighted in Persia is that which leads past the piime minis¬
ter’s house to the palace at lehran.1 The bazars aie the
only thoroughfares which deserve the name of stieets ; and
these have received merited praise from many tiavelleis,^
namely, those of Shiraz ; the continuous bazars of Isfahan,
which extend for miles; some of those at lehran, Tabriz,
&c., all of which are comparatively spacious, lofty, and built
of materials more or less solid ; though the majority of Pei-
sian bazars are as wretched as the towns. I hese bazais are
generally arched over with well-constructed brick-work or.
clay, or, as in the inferior constructions, with branches of
trees. Here, as in India, are collected all the different
trades, the smiths, the braziers, the shoemakers, the saddlers,
the cloth and chintz sellers, in their own quarter; but con¬
fectioners’, cooks’, apothecaries’, bakers, and fruitereis
shops are dispersed in various quarters. Few houses in a
Persian town exceed one storey; and the general coup
dUccil presents a succession of flat roofs and long walls of
mud, diversified, however, by gardens, with which the
towns and villages are often surrounded and intermingled,
and in which are seen the poplar, the cypress, and the
oriental plane. Almost all the towns of I ersia have some
defence, consisting generally of a high mud wall, which is
flanked by turrets, and sometimes protected by a deep dry
ditch or a rude glacis. Caravanserais are built in evtiy
town for the accommodation of travellers, and are also
found at every stage on the principal roads of the kingdom.
These edifices are generally constructed of stone or brick,
of a square form, and divided in the interior into sepai ate
apartments. They are surrounded with high walls and
towers, as a defence against the attacks of robbers. 1 ie
houses are generally built of mud, with terraced roofs ; and
their inner apartments are usually better than might be
expected from their outward appearance. 1 ic vi ages
are in * general very rudely constructed. I he common
huts have often, instead of a terrace, a dome roof, in order
to avoid the necessity of using wood, which is a very scarce
article all over Persia, there being few trees on the and
plains. .
Trades and Persia, though it has made no great or general progress
manufac- in the mechanical arts, has nevertheless been distinguishe
tures. for tilose fjner manufactures which minister to the luxury
of an eastern court. Raw silk is one of the most important
staples of Persia, and it is produced more or less all over
the country, but chiefly in the provinces of Gilan and Ma-
zandarun. In the former alone the annual produce amounts
to about 900,000 lb. Silk goods of a very fine quality
are manufactured at Yezd; and those of Isfahan, Kashan, Persia,
and Tabriz are held in great estimation, as are the velvets v-*
of these places and of Mashhad. Silk stuffs are also manu¬
factured in Resht, Lahajan, and other cities of Gilan, but,
according to Sheil (p. 376), of interior quality.^ Satins also
are manufactured, but, as Fraser thinks, of an inferior
quality ; and those which are imported from China are pre¬
ferred. The city of Shiraz is celebrated for its gold em¬
broideries, though these are now surpassed in other places.
Its damasked steel knives and daggers are still esteemed;
and it manufactures a good deal of coarse glass-ware. T. he
chintzes and prints which are manufactured in many places
are coarse both in texture and pattern, and are only used
for inferior purposes. They are nearly superseded by the
printed cottons of India and Europe, particularly the latter.
Calamkans are distinguished by a pattern of wreathed
flowers in gay colours, sparsely strewn upon a white, blue,
red, or fawn-colour ground; they are used for inner waist¬
coats, linings of robes, &c., and are often of very high
price. Wool is produced in great abundance all over
Persia and the neighbouring countries in which pastoral
habits prevail. The best wool is that of the piovince or
Karman, the mountains of which, hot and arid in summer,
and intensely cold in winter, sustain large flocks of sheep
and goats, which yield the finest wool. The wool of the
sheep is of an excellent quality; and the goats produce a
down which grows in winter at the roots of the hair, in the
same manner as that of the Thibet or shawl goats, and
nearly of as good a quality. This is spun into various
fabrics, which" almost vie with the celebrated shawls of
Kashmir in warmth and softness, as well as in fineness and
beauty of manufacture. This fine wool is found not only
in Karman, but more or less over all Khurasan and the
countries to the eastward, the mountains of which are
favourable to the animals which produce it. The other
woollen goods of Persia consist chiefly of carpets, namads,
felted goods, and a variety of fabrics of smaller importance
used by the inhabitants as clothing. _ 1 A .
Persia carries on a trade with Turkey, Baghdad, Arabia, Trade,
and the countries situated on the Persian Gulf. Of the
raw silk of Gilan, amounting, as already stated, to 900,000
lb., about one-fifth part is exported to Constantinople,
Aleppo, and the other cities of Asia Minor ; about one-fifth
is manufactured in the cities of Isfahan, T Kashan,
and other towns of Persia celebrated for their silk manu¬
factures; and the remainder is partly purchased by the
Russians, and partly sent to Baghdad. Persia expoits to
India specie, dried fruits, dates, tobacco, wine, diugs, assa-
fcetida, sulphur, raw silk, carpets, Karman shawls, swords,
combs, copper, saffron, &c. Horses form a consideiable
article of export to India. They are sent by sea fiom
Abushahr, where they are collected from the breeding dis¬
tricts in the southern provinces of Persia, and from Khu¬
rasan and the north-eastern districts by land through Af¬
ghanistan and the Panjab ; and they serve for mounting
the Indian cavalry, and supplying the great private demand
for riding horses by the British in India. I he impoits
from India are cotton goods, chintzes, and muslins ; though
these have now been in a great measure superseded by the
English, French, and German stuffs, introduced from the
ports of the Levant, from India, and by way of Russia.
Persia receives from India indigo, which comes chiefly by
sea, by the way of Abushahr (Bushire), on the Persian
Gulf, or by land through the country of Afghanistan, or
Balkh, to Bukharia, and thence by Hirat to Persia. Spices
are also amongst the Indian imports, as well as sugar and
sugar-candy, the import of which forms one of the most
valuable branches of trade between the two countries. 1 he
province of Mazandarun yields a coarse sugar; and there
1 Binning, vol. ii., p. 216.
PERSIA.
Persia, are many parts of Persia fitted for the growth of this article;
yet the country depends chiefly on India for its supply.
Gold and silver stuffs from Banaras, precious stones, Kash¬
mir shawls, iron, lead, and copper, make up the remaining
list of imports, Persia exports to Turkey grain, raw silk,
tobacco, paper, cotton, lamb and fox skins, carpets, silk
and cotton manufactures, Karman shawls, and salt; and
receives in return specie and European manufactures,
brought from the ports on the Levant. From Europe,
woollen, cotton, and silk goods are imported; also imi¬
tation shawds, gold lace, metal buttons, cutlery, watches,
spectacles, spy-glasses, leather, earthenware, iron, copper,
tin, quicksilver, and other articles. Iron is made in several
parts of Persia; but the foreign iron is preferred, and it is
imported from Russia, though it is but little used in these
countries. Copper in sheets is much used, and is partly
imported from Europe through Russia, and partly from
India. There is a considerable demand for European silk
goods, which are chiefly supplied by the French. Brocades
and embroidery are also supplied from France; and Fraser
mentions that of these he saw some magnificent samples at
Teflis. In chintzes and printed cottons the French and
German manufacturers have been more successful than the
English in suiting the Persian taste. The European trade
with Persia, as it is conducted at present, lies under the
great disadvantage of an expensive land carriage. There
are various channels through which goods may reach the
Persian market. First, they may be sent through Russia,
and thence be transported down the river Volga to Astra-
can, and across the Caspian to the Persian towns of Resht
or Astarabad. Accordingly, the countries around Astra-
can are supplied with the produce and manufactures of
Europe by means of this great stream ; and the manufac¬
tures of Russia itself have greatly superseded ours.1 The
Russian trade across the Caspian Sea is carried on by a
number of small vessels, which bring to Astracan the
sturgeon cured on the coasts of Gilan and Mazanda-
run, besides returns of other Persian produce; and con¬
vey Russian or European goods to Resht, Lahajan, and
Astarabad. Secondly, goods may be sent by the Mediter¬
ranean to the ports of Trebizond and Redoubt Kaleh,
situated at the western extremity of the Black Sea, or to
Constantinople ; and a considerable quantity of European
goods reach Persia by this channel; but in the course of a
long route of 1200 miles to Erivan, 200 more to labnz,
and other 360 to Tehran,—in all 1760 miles,—they are sub¬
jected to an expensive land carriage, to arbitrary imposts
in their transit through the territories of rapacious chiefs,
and to occasional attacks from banditti, and are conse¬
quently brought to Tehran at an expense of sixty-five per
cent. The distance from Trebizond to Erivan is only
about 140 miles, the road lying across very rugged moun¬
tains, though not worse than the roads over which much
of the Persian traffic is carried on. I he route from Re¬
doubt Kaleh to Teflis, the capital of Georgia, is but 230
miles, and is through a safe country, free from imposts.
Teflis, under the government of Russia, has already,
like Odessa, risen to be a great mart of trade; and ca¬
ravans regularly travel to Tabriz in eighteen or twenty
days. European goods are now sent to this place in con¬
siderable quantities,—namely, woollen cloths, cotton,printed
and plain goods, some hardware articles, some refined sugar
from Great Britain, silk and cotton manufactures from
Lyons, and embroideries, cloths, &c., from other parts of
France. There is another more direct channel through
which a supply of European goods may be sent into Per¬
sia, namely, by way of Abushahr; and, in point of fact,
British manufactures to a considerable amount, especially
cottons, are imported into this place, and thence conveyed
to all the southern cities of Persia.
The government of Persia is a pure despotism, which is Govern-
subject to no control from the influence of laws or man- ment and
ners, and under which every man’s life and liberty are atlaws-
tbe mercy of the sovereign. He may exalt the lowest
subject to the highest rank, or he may degrade, fine, im¬
prison, maim, or put him to death, according to his will or
caprice. Lie is taught from his infancy to consider his sub¬
jects as created for his pleasure; he is initiated in the
grossest sensuality; and, as if to train him to habits of
cruelty, his preceptors are in the practice of taking him to
witness executions, which in Persia are conducted with
extreme cruelty, as if to steel his mind against humane
feelings, and to habituate him to scenes at which other men
would shudder. In general, the kings of Persia profit by
these early lessons; few of them are considerate or merci¬
ful ; whilst with many, according to Sir J. Malcolm, “ the
habit of shedding blood becomes a passion, by a brutal in¬
dulgence in which human beings appear to lose that rank
and character which belong to their species.”2 Throughout
the different provinces of the Persian empire chiefs and
governors are everywhere seen improving upon the example
of the sovereign,—beating, maiming, and rending their pro¬
perty from the unfortunate cultivators who are placed at
their mercy. There is no such thing as any protection for
life and property in any part of this country ; and the officers
of government everywhere rob the people, and further in¬
sult and maltreat them if they dare to complain. A monarch
of Persia acknowledges no obligations but the ritual obser¬
vances of his religion ; and a blind superstition is thus sub¬
stituted for the moral qualities of mercy, generosity, and
justice. Every look being watched by parasites and flat¬
terers, he becomes as impatient of the least opposition as he
is insensible to the most devoted service. Distrust and
terror reign amongst his courtiers, amongst whom false¬
hood, dissimulation, and specious show supply the place ot
truth and loyalty. They have no means of preserving the
royal favour but by flattery and fawning; and hence then
whole object is to deceive and pillage, and, it they can with
safety and advantage to themselves, to betray their tyrant.
The effects of this system may be traced through all ranks
about the court, even to the lowest menial. Such is tie
character given of those who are attached to t le various
courts, and live in service with great men, including the
military and other functionaries. The other classes into
which the population of Persia is divided are,—those who
live in towns, namely, merchants, shopkeepers, mechanics,
and others; those who are engaged in agncuUure; and
lastly, the clans or ils. The inhabitants of towns aie less
exposed than others to the tyranny of their superiors and
they are more industrious; and, though far fiom strict in
their morals, they are not so actively vicious. They aie,
however, cunning deceitful, ^ -fr after gain a
S“U‘‘dweETSusel-S: SS„a7 ; or dwellers
£ tents. According to race, they are divided njto Arab,
Turk Lek, and Kurd. An enumeration of these will be
found in Shed’s Persia, p. 393. They are supposed to
form half the population ot the whole kingdom.
There is no class in Persia subjected to such tyranny
and oppression as the farmers and cultivators of the soil.
They are exposed to almost continual extortion and injus¬
tice ^ there is no definite limit to the amount of the de-
rnands made upon them. When the king demands money
from his ministers, they have recourse to the heads of dis¬
tricts, who in their turn apply to the heads of villages, an
these last wring it from the cultivators and farmers. Every
1 Binning, vol. ii., p. 298.
VOL. XVII.
- History of Persia, vol. ii., chap. xx\i.
3 ii
426
Persia.
PER
tax, present, fine, or bribe, from whomsoever demanded in
the first instance, ultimately falls upon them; so that the
only measure of these demands is the ability to pay on t ic
one hand, and the power to extort on the other. Yet there
are exceptions to this uniform system of oppression ; and
when travellers have been admitted to view the Persian
farmers in their houses and with their families, a degree of
comfort and comparative plenty have been discovered, not
quite compatible with the general tale of misery that was
told. Land1 belonging to the cultivator pays nominally one-
fifth, but really one-third of the value of its produce. The
crown lands are rented at one-half their produce. Landed
property is hereditary ; but the tax must be paid whether
cultivation is carried on or not, and, in case of non-payment,
the land is liable to seizure and transference to other parties.
The tax is paid partly in cash and partly in kind. Though
the Persian peasantry are poor, their general condition
would contrast favourably with that of many of the same
class in Europe. Famine is unknown; and in so thinly
peopled a country the small supply of food required for the
wants of the inhabitants is easily raised. The Persian pea¬
sants are civil, obliging, and intelligent.2 The politeness d
the Persians, for which they have been so much famed,
seems to consist more in the observance of a troublesome
routine of ceremonies, and the use of complimentary lan¬
guage in all the forms of eastern hyperbole, than in any
real courtesy. A Persian will say to a stranger that he is
his slave ; that his house and all that it contains,—his hoises,
equipage, &c.,—all are at his service ; but no one under¬
stands °this in any other sense than an unmeaning form,
which encumbers the intercourse of society without refin¬
ing it. In their persons the Persians are handsome, active,
and robust; lively in their imaginations, and of quick ap¬
prehension ; but without any moral quality to attract esteem.
The effects of the cruel despotism under which Persia
groans, in thus degrading the character of the people, and
also in checking the progress of science and of every use¬
ful art, are truly melancholy. The insecurity of life and
property is the dead-weight which oppresses the country.
It represses the efforts of industry ; it paralyses the powers
of invention, and every ingenious improvement; for no man
will sow where he is not sure of reaping, or will task his
ingenuity to produce what he may be deprived of the next
hour. It is a common practice to kidnap the best work¬
men in all trades for the use of the court and great men of
the provinces, who never pay the workmen they employ.
Hence every one avoids the reputation of excellence, ex¬
cept in the commonest trades; and thus, under the be¬
numbing influence of this frightful despotism, improvement
is nipt in the bud, and every useful invention is discouraged.
There is no outlay of labour or of capital in expectation of
any profitable return. TSo speculation is hazarded which
promises any future advantage. Before closing this sketch
of Persian character, one marked feature must be especially
noticed. The Persians are the only Asiatics who are real
sportsmen. They love the chase for itself; and will ride
as hard, and with as much enjoyment, as an Enghsh fox-
hunter.3 .
The king of Persia has a great variety of personal duties
to perform. He gives audience at an early hour of the
morning to his principal ministers and secretaries, who
make reports of all state transactions, and receive his com¬
mands. Lie holds a public levee, which is attended by the
princes, ministers, and officers of his court, at which rewards
are distributed and punishments awarded. He then gives
one or two hours to his personal favourites, or to his minis¬
ters. After the morning is past, he retires to his inner
apartments, where he is shrouded from observation. In the
evening he holds a levee, and transacts business with his
S I A.
ministers and principal officers of state. This, however, is Persia,
rather a sketch of what his employments ought to be, than
of what they are. The prime minister, exclusive of emolu¬
ments, which treble the income, receives 42,000 tumans, or
L.21 000 a year; and when the Shah is a weak and indolent
prince, has paramount influence, and transacts the affairs of
state as he pleases. But he is ever exposed, like the meanest
subject, to degrading punishments and a cruel death. Thus
Path AH Shah strangled his faithful minister Haji Ibrahim ;
and Muhammad Shah, the late king, destroyed Mirza Taki,
his brother-in-law, as well as minister, causing his veins to
be opened, and leaving him to perish by loss of blood.
Besides the chief ministers, the secretaries of state preside
over the different offices or chambers of accounts ; and te¬
gular accounts are kept of the receipts and disbuisements
of the whole kingdom.
The law of Persia, as in all other Muhammadan coun-Laws, and
tries, is founded upon religion as contained in the Kuian, tration of
and also upon tradition. Its rules are accordingly ex-.^.^
tremely vague and imperfect, and are administeied by tlie
priesthood, who often pronounce the most corrupt deci¬
sions. Many cases are also decided by the law of custom
or tradition, which, having reference to local as well as to
common usages, varies in different parts of the empiie, and
is, if possible, a still more vague and imperfect code than
the written law of the Kuran. The ecclesiastical ordei in
Persia, as in all other countries, eagerly grasping after
power, insist that the law which they administer, being
divine, should take cognisance of all| cases. But the oi di¬
nary courts of common law, supported by the state,, have
succeeded in limiting their jurisdiction to cases of religious
ceremonies, cases of inheritance, marriage, divorce, con¬
tracts, sales, and all civil matters ; reserving to the ordinary
courts the decision of criminal cases, such as murder, theft,
fraud, breaches of the peace, and other offences. The
order of priests have great influence in Persia. Before the
reign of Nadir Shah, the whole power centred in the chief
pontiff, wrho was deemed the vicar of the Imam, and en-
grossed vast wealth and influence. At the death of tins
high priest no successor was appointed by Nadir Shah,
who besides seized the treasures of the priesthood in ordei
to pay his troops. His grandson and successor appointed
two persons to this high dignity, with a view of diminish¬
ing by dividing their power and influence. These priests
are called Mushtahids ; and there are now usually three or
four of this high dignity in Persia. They fill no office, re¬
ceive no appointment, and have no specific duties, but aie
called by the voice of the public, from their superior learn¬
ing, piety, and virtue, to be their guides in religion, and
their protectors against oppression ; and Sir John Malcolm
observes, that they receive from the people a. degree of
respect and reverence to which the proudest kings would
in vain lay claim. Their conduct generally agrees with the
sacred character to which they owe all their importance, as
they know that in deviating from the strictest purity they
would lose all their influence. This order of priests exer¬
cise an important influence on the administration of the
written law. Cases are constantly submitted to their supe¬
rior knowledge ; and there is no appeal from their sentence
except to a priest acknowledged to be superior in sanctity
and in learning. The sacred character of these priests gives
an authority to the decrees of the tribunals over which they
preside which the monarch is forced to respect. They are
often effectual intercessors for mercy to the guilty ; then-
habitations are considered as the sanctuaries of the op¬
pressed ; and “ the hand of despotic power,” says Sir John
Malcolm, “ is sometimes taken off a city because the
monarch will not offend a mushtahid, who has chosen it for
his residence, but who refuses to dwell amidst violence and
1 Binning, vol. i., p. 345.
2 Ibid., vol. ii., p. 361.
3 Ibid., vol. ii., p. 367.
PERSIA.
427
Persia.
Revenue,
injustice.” Next in rank to these high priests there is the
Shaikhu’l-Islam, literally the “ elder or chief of the faith,”
who acts as a supreme judge in the court of written law.
One of this class resides in all the principal cities ; and
under him is the kazi, who has a council of mulas or learned
men as his assessors. In the lesser towns there is only a
kazi, from whom there lies an appeal, in cases of intricacy,
to the kazi of the larger towns, and finally to the supreme
judge of the provincial capital. But, as in all countries
such as Persia, where there is no enlightened morality, and
no control of public opinion, justice is venal and corrupt;
the administration of the written law by the priests is ex¬
tremely imperfect and inadequate to its ends, insomuch that
the suitor is deprived of every hope of justice; and it is only
the administration of the customary law that offers any
security, however imperfect, for justice between man and
man. Even here, however, the administration of justice
varies with the character of the reigning despot; and the
judges, in all their various gradations, are active and just, or
corrupt and cruel, as the monarch happens to be vigilant or
virtuous, avaricious or tyrannical. The European ideas of
honour are scarcely known amongst any class. They are
all venal and corrupt; and the iniquities which they them¬
selves practise they but feebly condemn in others. Justice
is often interrupted by the clashing authorities of the dif¬
ferent courts,—an evil which neither the sovereign nor his
ministers are anxious to remedy, seeing that it adds both to
their power and profit. A suit is very soon brought to a
termination, and not at great cost; but considerable sums
are often paid for a favourable decision. The most bar¬
barous rules are still followed in the administration of the
criminal law. In cases of murder the heir-at-law demands
vengeance for blood ; and when the guilt of the criminal is
established, he is delivered into the hands of the injured
person or his relations, to deal with him as they think fit.
The punishment of crimes in Persia is fixed by the written
law, or when the king interferes by his arbitrary will. Fines,
flogging, and the bastinado are the common punishments of
lesser offences. The disclosure of hidden treasures is en¬
forced by tortures ; and the inhuman punishment of putting
out the eyes has long been practised in Persia, as in other
countries of the East, on the relations of the reigning family
who may aspire to the throne, or on the chiefs of tribes
whom it is desirable to deprive of power, though not of
life, and sometimes on the male inhabitants of a rebellious
town. Criminals are put to death by strangling, decapita¬
tion, or stabbing; but in aggravated cases the most inven¬
tive cruelty is practised in devising modes of torture. In
Persia, women are seldom publicly executed, but they suffer
dreadful violence in the recesses of domestic tyranny.
When they are of high rank, the comprehensive injustice
of the East often includes them in the punishment of their
husbands or fathers; and they are given away as slaves to
the lowest and most infamous classes of the community,
such as mule-drivers. They are also sometimes tortured,
in order to force from them a disclosure of wealth which
they know to be concealed.
The collection of the revenue is intimately connected
with the administration of justice, the same officer presid¬
ing over both ; and this union is unfavourable to the inha¬
bitants, as it enables the collector to prostitute the judicial
power for the gratification of his avarice. Sir John Mal¬
colm estimates, though not on any sure data, the revenue of
Persia at three millions. According to Fraser,1 the amount
varies with each successive sovereign ; but Shell, who had
the best opportunities of learning the truth, states it at
3,177,000 tumans, or L.1,747,350. The public income of
Persia arises chiefly from the produce of crown lands, and
from a tax on land. Landed property in Persia may
1 Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, chap. x.
be comprised under the following heads:—Is#, Crown
lands; 2d, Those of individuals; ’6d, Those belonging to ^
charitable or religious foundations ; Ath, Those granted by
the king for military service. The uncultivated tracts,
which form so large a portion of Persia, are not claimed as
property ; but every individual who constructs one of the
subterraneous canals called kandts, or who contrives to
bring water to the surface, obtains a title to the land which
he cultivates. The other titles are, inheritance, purchase,
or a gift from the crown ; and these rights are held sacred
under all circumstances. There is, however, this peculiarity
in the state of landed property in Persia, as in other eastern
countries, that the cultivator shares with the proprietor in
a common right to a certain portion of the soil, of which
lie cannot be deprived as long as he pays the customary
rent. The proprietor has a title to one-tenth of the pro¬
duce, ascertained by measurement, either of the surface
before sowing, or of the standing crop. When the pro¬
prietor obtains an artificial supply of water, he has, besides,
a right to all that he can procure by its sale. In cases
where the proprietor furnishes seed, labour, or cattle to the
cultivator, he receives, in addition to his tenth share, a por¬
tion of the farmer’s profits. The government tax amounted
at one time to one-tenth of the produce, but with the in¬
creasing expenses of the state other irregular taxes were
imposed, till they were at last converted into an additional
tenth; the less fertile lands being, however, subjected to
a smaller impost. But other irregular and arbitrary im¬
posts continued to be heaped upon the additional tenth by
the bad faith of the government, and now form one of the
cultivator’s heaviest grievances. The other taxes are those
on cattle, capitation taxes, transit and town duties, and
various irregular impositions. Lands held in fief, or in
lieu of military or other service, pay no tax to govern¬
ment ; the assignee being entitled to three-tenths, which
includes both the proprietor’s rights and the government
dues. When the assignment is given on the estate of
another, the government dues alone are granted. Gardens
near villages pay one-fifth of their produce in kind, whilst
melon-grounds, tobacco, cotton, and such like fields, pay in
money according to a valuation of their produce. Horses,^
asses, cows, sheep, and goats, are all taxed, at the rate of
one real, or Is. 4d. for each horse, four-fifths for asses and
cows, one-third for sheep and goats, and one-sixth on the
hive of bees. There is a capitation tax, which sometimes
presses heavily upon Armenians, Jews, and Gabais, tie
ancient fire-worshippers. The rate was in some cases fom
reals, or 5s. 4d. for a family, and sometimes eight reals.
Shops and bazars pay a duty of from two to twenty reals
a year; and the tenant also pays in the proportion of from
ten to fifty tumans a year, the value of the tuman being
] Is.2 All merchandise is subject to a duty of 5 per cent,
on entering the first Persian town, whether by land or sea,
and to a variety of inland duties, which are levied at the
different custom-houses, without any system, every governor
endeavouring to extort all he can. Smuggling is very
fimon No estimate can be formed of the saadrat,
the irregular duties, which include every extraordinary
expense of government, the expenses of all travellers and
strangers, of members of the royal family, or government
messengers, of transporting baggage, royal equipage, _ or
presents, of repairing roads and bridges, of furnishing
troops and the like; for all which it is understood, though
the practice is often different, that the village or province
shall obtain credit on the annual settlement of their accounts;,
so that these heavy exactions, resembling those of the^
kino-’s purveyors in ancient Europe for the maintenance of
his court and retinue when they were travelling, fall with¬
out redress on the poor ryots. The Persian king’s order
2 Ibid., p. 74, note.
Persia.
common
or
428
Persia.
PERSIA.
Army.
is, in like manner, grievously abused to the oppression and
vexation ofhis subjects. Presents, fines, and confiscations,
form a considerable item of Persian revenue. At stated
times, such as the new year, the courtiers are expected to
accompany their respects to the king with a large present
of money, which amounts in some cases to L.oO,UUU,
L.40,000, and even L.55,000. Every one in any degree
dependent upon the court endeavours to make up a purse on
this occasion ; and in lieu of money, goods, such as shawls,
horses, jewels, and merchandise, are brought. 1 he pro¬
duce of this new year impost is estimated at L.bbO,OUU.
But there are various other lesser occasions for making
presents, no suitor being expected to approach the throne
empty-handed ; so that about L.275,000 may be received
in addition to the presents of the new year. The produce
of the crown lands Fraser estimates, though, he admits, on
uncertain data, at L.493,950.
According to Sheil (p. 388), the total expenditure from
the revenue is as follows :—
General expenditure, including presents, building
post-office,   L,;8jS
Amalajat, or salaries at the capital  rjo tvc)
Provincial expenses   loupe-
L.1,461,130
The Persian army at present comprises 6000 artillery,
about one-half of whom are natives of Azarbijan. Ihe
men are active, efficient soldiers, and carry their guns over
any ground. There is one marked peculiarity in this arm
of the service. The artillerymen are all mounted, and there
are more than thirty with each gun; the guns in Persia
beino- to defend the infantry, rather than, as with us, the
infantry to defend the guns. For the foundation of an
ordnance department on a modern footing, Persia is in¬
debted to England. A foundry under Englishmen was
first established at Tabriz, as well as a powder manufactoiy
outside the town. These have since been transferred to
Tehran. The regular infantry is rated at 100,000 men,
but does not actually exceed 70,000. Of these, more
than a third come from Azarbijan, Internal discipline is
said by Sheil to have no existence, and knowledge of evo¬
lution to be limited to movement from column into line,
and vice versd, and to the clumsy formation of squares.
In the recent engagements, however, with the British
forces, the Persian infantry did not appear to be so de¬
ficient in these points. The arms of the infantry aie flint
muskets, and bayonets, many of them out of order, ihe
men wear blue linen jackets, with white cotton trousers
and leather buskins; and in cold weather they often put
on their own clothes under the jackets and trousers which
are supplied by the state. Turks wear the lambskin cap,
and Leks felt caps. Instead of knapsacks, thirty asses are
allowed to each company for the carriage of the men s kit.
The infantry is divided into regiments, each of which, called
a fautf consists of 1000 men, of whom 800 are sarbaz or
privates, 41 bandsmen, and 159 officers. 1 hefauj, again, is
divided into 10 dastah or companies, and in each there
are 1 sultan, or captain; 2 ndibs, or lieutenants; 2 begzadahs,
who ride in the rear; 4 vakils, or serjeants ; and 4 sarjaukas,
or corporals. The regiment is commanded by a sarhang, oi
lieutenant-colonel, who gets 500 tumans (L.275) a year , am
2 ydvars, or majors ; and over two regiments is a sartip, ox
colonel, with 1000 tumans a year. The ydvar receives from
150 to 250 tumans a year; sultin, 60 tumans; the iidib,
from 30 to 40; the begzddah, 20; the vakil, from 10 to 12 ;
and the sarjauka, 8 tumans annually. The private receives
7 tumans a year, and has, besides, a jirah, or ration of 84
lb. of bread daily. Each regiment has, besides, a mushrif,
Persia.
or head accountant, who gets 50 tumans (L.27, 10s.); and
four clerks, whose pay is from 30 to 40 tumans each. Each
member of the band gets from 8 to 15 tumans. The regular
cavalry is limited to 500 men; according to Sheil, “ an ab¬
surd, useless body.” The Shah’s bodyguard consists of 2500
irregular cavalry, well mounted and armed, and excellent
horsemen. Their pay is 60 tumans each yearly, with 1£
mans of bread, 4£ of barley, and 9 of straw for the horses,
per diem. Over every 10 men is a dehbdshi, or decurion ;
and over 100, a yuzbdshi, or centurion, who gets 500 tumans
annually. Besides these, there are from 30,000 to 50,000
irregular horse, called ghiddm-i-suwdr, to distinguish them
from ghuldm-i-rikdbi, the bodyguard. Sheil considers
them lully equal to the Cossacks. Six thousand of them
come from Azarbijan. Ihe pay of a private is fiom 10 to
15 tumans, with half a man* of bread, 1£ of barley, and 3 of
straw, daily. A sultan, or captain of 50, gets 50 tumans ; a
ndib, or lieutenant, 30; vakils and sarjaukas, 15 tumans;
and a sarkardah, or colonel of horse, 1000 tumans per
annum. . . . , „ ,
The regular Persian army owes its origin to the rrench,
and dates from the mission of General Gardanne in 1808.
The first levies were raised in Karmanshah and Azarbijan.
Shortly afterwards, Major Christie and Lieutenant Lindsay,
of the Company’s army, who accompanied Sir J. Malcolm s
mission in 1808, undertook the charge of the new levies.
Major Christie was killed in 1812, in the battle of Aslan-
duz against the Russians, in which he distinguished him¬
self so much that the victors raised a monument to his
memory. He was succeeded by Major Hart of the royal^
army, who, under Abbas Mirza, brought the infantry of
Azarbijan to great efficiency. Lieutenant Lindsay, after¬
wards Sir H. Lindsay Bethune, did even more for the
artillery; and the remains of the vigour he infused may still
be traced. After the last war between Russia and Persia,
several officers and serjeants of the Indian army were sent to
carry on the work. Among the most distinguished was Sir
H. Rawlinson. They aided in placing Muhammad Shah
on the throne; but that prince became jealous of them ; and
finally, on his marching against Hirat, they were recalled.
After them came some French officers, who entirely failed ,
and they in turn were succeeded by a party of Italian,
Hungarian, and German refugees. ...
The ancient religion of Persia was the worship of Hor- Reiigio .
mazd, the Good Principle, or God. Fire, and especially
the sun, being considered the fittest emblem of the deit\,
was the visible medium selected to receive adoration, but
that this emblem was itself worshipped, is a vulgar error.
This religion was subverted by the Arabs in a.d. 651, when
that of Muhammad was propagated in Persia by the victo¬
rious Muslims. But the Persians are of the Shiah sect,
who consider ’Ali, the nephew and son-in-law of Muham¬
mad, as his lawful successor in the khalifat, to which he was
appointed by the Prophet; and Abubakr, ’Umr, and Uth-
man, his actual successors, and reverenced as the khahfs by
the Sunnis as nothing better than usurpers. It was this
disputed succession which gave rise to these two hostile
sects of Muhammadans. The doctrines of the former,
namely, the Shi’ahs,—have been for more than three cen¬
turies warmly espoused by the Persians, who vowed etei-
nal hatred and war against all who profess the Sunni
creed. The religion of Muhammad, amongst its other
evils, is hostile to all improvement. It enjoins the de¬
struction of infidels as an act of piety ; and hence the
blind zeal and persecuting spirit which prevails in all
Muhammadan states, and which breaks out into reproach,
outrage, and often into extreme violence, against their
Christian visitors. All knowledge is, according to this
system, rejected, beyond what is found in the Kuran ;
1 Shell, p. 383.
: Binning, vol. ii., p. 202.
! Binning, vol. i., p. 177, note, reckons the man at 7 lb.
PERSIA.
429
Persia, and the debasing influence of polygamy on the morals
i r and manners of both sexes is calculated completely to
poison all the remaining sources of social happiness. 1 he
baneful consequences of this false system have been as
deeply felt in Persia as in any of the surrounding states.
The fanatical influence of the Muhammadan religion has
of late years, however, been modified in Persia by the
progress of a free-thinking and irreligious spirit, chiefly
amongst the nobility, the merchants, and those who have
resided much in foreign countries, and even amongst the
priesthood, who frequently and openly, before their par¬
ticular friends, deride the superstitious observances of the
Muhammadan creed. The zeal of the early Muhammadans
has also been cooled by many causes. The work of con¬
quest, and the extinction or conversion of infidel nations
by the sword, is at an end. The enthusiasm of the mo¬
dern followers of the Prophet is no longer influenced by
the practice of persecution; and the whole system has
declined into a set of useless forms and ceremonies, which,
mingling with all the common affairs of life, have dege¬
nerated into a customary routine, without any appearance
of reverence, and being in reality a mere mockery of
religion.
Ijiterafure, In a state of society such as that which prevails in
scinr.ce, &c. persia we can scarcely look for any great progress in
literature, science, or the arts. W ith the Muhammadan
religion was introduced all the Arabian learning of tbe se¬
venth century. But the Persians have not improved this
original stock; on the contrary, it has gene to waste in
their hands; the light of science is nearly extinct, and
their literature consists chiefly in poetry and tales. 1 hey
delight in tales, fables, and apophthegms, which Sir John
Malcolm considers as the consequence of their despotic
government, where knowledge must be veiled in order to
be useful, as the direct truth would wound a despot’s
ear. The merits of Persian poetry have been very differ¬
ently estimated. Sir John Malcolm, admitting its extra¬
vagance and hyperbole, still praises its tenderness and
beauty; and many passages breathe all the sweetness of
pastoral poetry. Firdausi is their greatest epic poet, whose
poem (the Shdh-ndmah) is a history of the ancient Per¬
sian kings. In it, according to Sir John Malcolm, “ the
most fastidious reader will meet with numerous passages
of exquisite beauty. The narrative,” he adds, “of this
great work is generally very perspicuous ; and some of the
finest scenes in it are described with simplicity and elegance
of diction.” In the opinion of Persians, this poet excels
in descriptions of the combats of heroes ; but to those whose
taste is offended with hyperbole, the tender parts of his
work will have most beauty, as they are freest from this
characteristic defect of eastern writers. Nizami, who ce¬
lebrates the exploits of Alexander the Great, is considered
as ranking next to Firdausi; and the subject affords ample
scope to his genius and powerful imagination. Amongst
the didactic poets, Sir John Malcolm assigns the next rank
to S’adi, who is a moralist as well as poet, his works abound¬
ing in lessons of prudence and morality, and exhibiting
a rare union of fancy, learning, urbanity, and virtue. I he
Masnavi of Jalalu’d-Din, the poems of Jami, and the odes
of Hafiz, are amongst the most popular effusions of the
Persian muse; but the names of Rudiki and others are
nearly of equal rank ; and some modern writers also have
attained to great eminence. “ Many of these poems,” says
Sir John Malcolm, in his excellent History of Persia,
“ are remarkable for harmony of numbers and luxuriance
of imagination, but they all abound with the most extra¬
vagant and hyperbolical passages; and the enraptured
dreams of their visionary authors can only be esteemed
beauties by men whose imaginations keep pace with that
of the poet, whom they deem inspired, and whose most
obscene lay is often considered by their enthusiastic ad¬
mirers as the gleaming of a sublime knowledge, which is
far beyond the comprehension of the profane and unen- ^
lightened. Many discussions have arisen regarding the real
and mystical meaning of the writers of this class, and par¬
ticularly of Hafiz, whose odes are chanted as songs, to ex¬
cite the young and dissipated to pleasure, and recited as
hymns, to remind the old and devout of the rapture of di¬
vine love.” The Persian poets excel in songs and odes,
which are tender and passionate. Satirical effusions are
not so common ; though the verses of Firdausi on Mahmud
of Ghazni are remarkably bitter. There is a satirical poem,
by an unknown author, on the passion of avarice, which is
extremely humorous. The Persians are enthusiastic in
their taste for poetry ; and the meanest artisans can read
or repeat the finest passages of their most admired writers.
Sir John Malcolm mentions that his servants were familiar
with Persian poetry ; and when at Isfahan, he was surprised
to hear a common tailor, who was repairing one of his tents,
entertaining his companions with some of the finest mysti¬
cal odes of Hafiz. Even the rude soldier will leave his
tent to listen to songs of love or to a tale of war. The art
of printing is unknown in Persia; and beautiful writing,
which is carefully taught in the schools, is considered a high
accomplishment, those who excel in it ranking with the
literary class. They are employed in copying the works of
authors ; and a few lines written by a celebrated penman
are often sold for a considerable sum. Almost all the trades¬
men, and many of the mechanics in Persia, have received
some education. Schools are established in every town
and city, at which the poorest children are instructed, at
fees sufficiently reasonable, in the rudiments of the Persian
and Arabic languages. The pupil after he has learned the
alphabet, reads, as a religious duty, the Kuran in Arabic ;
next some fables in Persian ; and, lastly, is taught to write
a legible hand, which completes his education. Unless
amongst those who follow a studious life, and thus put in
practice what they have learned, these lessons are in many
cases forgotten. Yet this course of study, superficial as it
appears, improves the habits, and introduces a refinement
of manners amongst the scholars, which is unknown to theii
ruder countrymen. No proper encouragement, however,
is given to schools; nor can it be expected that a grasping,
despotic, and rapacious government, like that of Persia,
should be any way anxious for the education of its subjects.
The literary men are numerous. They pursue their
till they are entitled to the name of Mulla, and to all the
honours of a Persian college, though they are not classed
with the priesthood. They follow various occupations. o
the studious and literary classes a very high rank is assignee.
An eminent historian, astronomer, or poet is highly ho¬
noured, and has a place of distinction assigned him in every
company which he honours with his presence; and this as
much for his social qualities as for his supposed talents as a
author. The conversation of these persons, replete with
anecdotes and information, amuses and instructs ; and even
the pretenders of this class, who are numerous, possess
agreeable manners and a ready wit. A swarm of students
isTthus produced, who pass their useless lives in indolence
and poverty. Isfahan in particular abounds with these
literary mendicants; and from its colleges, and those of
Shiraz, issue a crowd of vagrant poets, who he in wait for
men of rank and wealth, or for any stranger from whom
they expect a reward.
In music and painting the Persians have made little pro-
oress. They have a gamut and notes, and a melody that
is adapted to various strains; and they sing to the accom¬
paniment of warlike instruments, of which they have a
number. Their strains are often pleasing, but they are
always monotonous. They are equally backward in the
art of painting, in which they have advanced but little
within the last three centuries. They use the most bril-
Persia.
430
Persia.
Mathema¬
tics, astro¬
nomy, and
geography.
PERSIA.
liant colours ; and in portrait-painting they usually succeed
in taking likenesses; and in some of their lesser drawings,
which are highly glazed, and painted on wood, they also
display industry and taste. But they are entirely unac¬
quainted with the rules of perspective or of just proportions.
The despotic and unsettled government arrests all improve¬
ment ; and in the fine arts the existing race have not ad¬
vanced one step beyond their forefathers, as appears from
the figures in the palaces at Isfahan, executed in the reign
of Shah ’Abbas, and equal to any of their modern produc¬
tions.
In science the Persians have advanced no farther than in
the arts. Their knowledge of mathematics or astronomy
is very limited ; and the latter science is chiefly studied for
the sake of judicial astrology, in which the whole nation,
from the king to the peasant, evince the greatest faith.
Their notions of the forms and motions of the heavenly
bodies, and the shape and surface of the earth, are borrow¬
ed from Ptolemy ; and though some efforts have been made
to instruct them in the Copernican system and Newton’s
demonstrations, prejudices are too firmly rooted to be dis¬
pelled, except by time. Of geography they do not under¬
stand the first principles ; for, independently of their error
regarding the figure of the earth, they know little of its
surface, even of that which lies within their view ; nor could
their knowledge of surveying enable them to lay down any
portion of it with exactness. There cannot be a stronger
proof of the ignorance which prevails than the eagerness
with which all classes seek the aid of astrology. Any one
who can take an altitude with an astrolabe, or knows the
names of the planets, with a few technical phrases, and un¬
derstands the astrological almanacs, considers himself as
quite adequate to offer his services to all who consult him ;
and nothing of consequence is transacted, especially by the
great, without consulting stars. A new dress must be put
on, or a journey must be commenced, at the lucky or un¬
lucky moment.
As the science of astronomy is thus rendered subservient
to astrology, so chemistry is followed for the sake of alche¬
my, a favourite pursuit of the learned, whose avarice is sti¬
mulated by the hope of discovering the philosopher’s stone.
The alchemists make their experiments in the profoundest
secrecy, that they may themselves engross the whole be¬
nefits of the wonderful discovery which they expect to
make ; and whether they may be themselves deceived,
certain it is they deceive others, and practise the most seri¬
ous frauds on the credulous and the wealthy. Of medicine
and surgery the Persians are thoroughly ignorant, and,
when they are ill, become the prey of quacks, who rob
them of their money, and often of their health. They are
entirely ignorant of anatomy and the circulation of the blood.
They have an arbitrary theory, by which they classify all
diseases under four heads,—viz., hot, cold, moist, or dry ;
and the great principle on which they proceed is, that the
remedy must be of an opposite quality to the disease; dry
remedies being applied to an illness occasioned by mois¬
ture, and cooling medicines to hot diseases. To this prac¬
tice they are so bigoted, that, with all their respect for
European physicians, they dislike any prescriptions that
contradict this paradox. Inoculation for the small-pox,
though it is known, is seldom practised, though whole towns
are often threatened with depopulation by the ravages of
that dreadful disease. Mr Jukes, who accompanied Mr
Fraser into Persia, was remarkably anxious to introduce
the practice of vaccination; for several years his efforts
were unremitted ; but they were defeated, fully as much
from the cruel indifference of the government to the good
of their subjects, as from their prejudices. The practice of
physic in Persia is mere quackery, for which all the know¬
ledge necessary is that of the qualities and effects of a few
simples; and hence a grave air, and a few lucky cures,
often brought about by the temperate habits of the patient,
complete the fame of a physician. The gains of the phy- >
sician are, however, trifling. The priests and astrologers
succeed better ; their art is more suited to the taste of the
inhabitants ; and it is only in cities and towns that there
are regular physicians. Those who dwell in tents are ge¬
nerally attended by an old man or woman, who rely more
on superstitious charms than on medical remedies. One
of these charms consists in laying a few pieces of bread
covered with oil upon a rock, as an offering to a saint.
The Persians are remarkably ceremonious in their inter¬
course. They receive the visit of a superior by rising has¬
tily and meeting him at the door of the apartment; of an
equal, by rising and standing erect; of an inferior, by only
making "the motion of rising. The apartments are not so
luxuriously furnished as in Turkey. The sofas and easy
pillows of the latter country are not known in Persia, where
the seat is on a carpet or mat, without any soft support on
either side, or anything except the hands, or the acciden¬
tal support of a wall, to relieve the galling posture of the
legs. The fashion in presence of a superior is to sit upon
your heels, as they are tucked up under your hams, after
the manner of a camel. The length of time during which
a Persian sits untired upon his heels is to an Englishman
quite extraordinary. He will remain half a day, and some¬
times he will even sleep, in this posture. They never
think of changing their positions; and are as much sur¬
prised by the locomotive dispositions of the Europeans as
we are by their habits of rest.
It is a singular trait of Asiatic manners that so great a
proportion of the people still retain the vagrant habits of
the pastoral life. For this purpose the wide wastes of
Khurasan, varied with spots of fertility, are well adapted;
and the pastoral tribes are accordingly found chiefly to
border on this district, which has long been the debateable
ground between several great monarchies, where their
rival chiefs contended for victory in fierce and bloody
wars ; and on these occasions the wandering tribes are en¬
listed on one side or the other. Thus they are inured to
blood and to pillage, and contract habits which have been
strengthened by time, and have at last become interwoven
with their whole pursuits and character. They often at¬
tack surrounding states, carry off the people, and sell them
for slaves ; and most of the wandering tribes of I urkamans
being Sunnis, who have sworn eternal hatred to the Per¬
sians, who are Shi’ahs, thus add religious hatred to all their
other incentives to murder and pillage ; so that their cha¬
racter is described as ferocious and blood-thirsty in the ex¬
treme. To the north of Khurasan there are various tribes
of Turkamans, who, occupying the country behind the Al-
burj and the steppe of Kharazm, pour from their deserts
upon the surrounding and cultivated districts, plundering
villages and caravans, with every circumstance of atro¬
cious outrage. The old, the feeble, and the helpless are
murdered on the spot; those who are fit for labour are
carried into slavery ; and whole districts of country are left
desolate. From the east other tribes equally barbarous
make inroads into Persia, and carry away their captives to
the slave-markets of Khiva and Bukhara ; and on the
south and east are found the wild Biluchxs, who for¬
merly murdered and plundered, but now, preferring their
avarice to their cruelty, carry their prisoners to the slave
merchants who frequent the great northern markets. The
Afghan, also, though not naturally cruel, “ assumes,” says
Fraser, “ in this ominous neighbourhood a fierce character,
and adds to robbery and plunder the crime of murder.”
By these dreadful inroads a considerable portion of the^
country to the north and east is laid waste ; the terror of
these tribes is spread far and wide ; and their depredations
have become more formidable in proportion to the corrup¬
tion and increasing weakness of the Persian monarchy
Persia.
PERSIA.
431
sia These tribes vary considerably in their physiognomy. The
erSli^ j Goklan,1 Yamut, and Takeh Turkamans, who occupy the
country behind the Alburj Mountains, bordering on the
Caspian Sea, are tall, stout, and well made, and have all the
Tatar features,—namely, the scanty beard, the small eye
drawn up at the corners, the high cheek-bones, and the
small flat nose. Some, on the other hand, have handsome
features, rather resembling those of the Asiatics than of the
Europeans. The arms used by these tribes are chiefly the
sword and the spear. They are dexterous in the use of the
sword, which is curved in the Persian fashion, and very
sharp. Several of the tribes use bows and arrows. They
have very few fire-arms ; only such as they have taken from
travellers whom they have plundered.
Persia, the seat of learning, of wealth, and of improve¬
ment, whilst the greater part of the world had scarcely
emerged from barbarism, might naturally be expected to
abound in the precious relics of ancient art; and although
many such memorials have perished amidst the ruthless de¬
vastations of war to which this and other Asiatic countries
have been exposed, yet numerous monuments of taste still
remain. Of these, the ruins of Persepolis belong to the
earliest era of Persian history. It was in this city, which
they took a delight in improving and embellishing, as the
great metropolis of the East, that Cyrus and his immediate
successors resided. It has for centuries presented only a
scene of decay and ruin. The most remarkable remains
in Persepolis, or, as it is called by the natives, Istakhar,2
Taltht-i- Jarushid (“ The Throne of Jamshid”), are the Chi-
halminar, or forty “ minarets or pillars,” which are situated
about 35 miles N.E. of Shiraz. Sir II. K. Porter recog¬
nised in these ruins, en masse as well as in detail, a strong
resemblance to the architectural taste of Egypt; and he
conjectures that some of the architectural ornaments may
have been partly brought from that country by the Persian
monarchs, as trophies of their victories. These magnificent
remains appear to be part of the great castellated palace of
Darius, which was set on fire by Alexander whilst he was
under the influence of intemperance. They are placed as
if in an amphitheatre, on a fine plain, inclosed by semicir¬
cular mountains. The terrace on which the ruins of this
immense royal citadel or palace are is at the foot of a steep
rock called the Kuh-i-Rahmat, or “ Hill of Mercy,” and
overlooks the wide plain of Mervdasht. It is nearly 500
yards in length (according to Binning, vol. ii., p. 4), 312 in
breadth, and from 10 to 20 high. Its form is irregular, and
it faces to the west. “ The strength and beauty of its con¬
struction,” says Sir R. K. Porter, “ cannot be exceeded.
The steep faces of the rocky terrace are formed of dark-
gray marble, cut into gigantic square blocks exquisitely
polished, and, without the aid of mortar, fitted to each other
with such closeness and precision, that when first completed,
the perfected platform must have appeared as part of the
solid mountain itself.”3 The exterior wall is built of black
stones, much harder than marble, finely polished, and of
such a prodigious size, that it is difficult to conceive how
the workmen, without the aid of machinery, were able to
move them. The only access to the summit of the plat¬
form is by a double flight of stairs of a very gentle ascent,
on its western side. There are fifty-five steps, each step
being 3^ inches in height, formed of blocks of marble so
large that each of them is cut into ten or fourteen steps.
The first flight of steps leads to an irregular landing-place
of 37 feet by 44, from which springs a second double flight
of forty-eight steps, which terminate on the ground level of
the platform in a second landing-place, occupying 64 feet.
On reaching the platform, the first objects that arrest the
attention of the traveller are the lofty walls of an enormous Persia,
portal, the interior faces of which are sculptured into the »
colossal forms of two immense quadrupeds, resembling
bulls, which are elevated on a pedestal 5 feet in height.
The heads of the animals are entirely mutilated, so that
Fraser says it is impossible to determine what species they
were intended to represent. Round their necks collars of
roses are executed with critical nicety; and over the chest
back, and ribs, short curling hair, cut with that peculiar
correctness and delicacy of chiselling which Sir R. K. Porter
states to be a distinguishing characteristic of the ancient
Persian sculpture. The wall that forms one side of this
magnificent portal is 5 feet in breadth, 21 feet in length,
and 30 feet in height. The one wall is distant from the
other about 12 feet, and tbe space between is flagged with
beautifully-polished slabs from the neighbouring rock.
Eastward, at the distance of 24 feet in a direct line from
the portal, once stood four magnificent columns, of which
only two now remain. Their capitals are singularly beau¬
tiful. At the distance of 24 feet is a second portal, exactly
resembling the former, only that it is 18 feet instead of 21
in length. Its inner sides are adorned with similar sculp¬
tures. But the animals here represented are of a gigantic
size, and of a monstrous formation ; the body and legs of a
bull, with similar trappings to those already described, and
enormous wings, the feathers of which are exquisitely cut.
The heads of the animals, though greatly defaced, show the
faces of men ; the countenance has a cast of deep gravity,
and a long and carefully-curled beard adds to the general
majesty. The head is adorned with a diadem, on both
sides of which horns are represented winding from the brow
upwards towards the front of the crown ; the whole being
surmounted by a sort of coronet, formed of a range of
leaves like the lotus, and bound with a fillet beautifully
carved in roses.
Between the right of this portal and the magnificent ter¬
race that supports the range of columns from which it takes
its name, there is an area ot 162 feet, in which is a cistern
hewn out of the solid rock, in dimensions 18 feet by 16.
The approach to the terrace is superb, consisting ot a double
staircase covered with the most beautiful decorations, and
projecting considerably before the northern face of the ter¬
race, which is 212 feet in length. At each extiemity L.
and W. rises another range of steps ; and about the middle,
projecting from it 18 feet, appear two smaller flights, lising
from the same points. The extent of the whole lange, in¬
cluding a landing-place of 20 feet, amounts t° 86 feet. I ie
ascent is extremely gradual, each flight consisting of ^ome
30 low steps, 4 inches in height, 14 feet in breadth, and 16 in
leno-th. The whole front is covered with sculptures so
thickly that the eye is bewildered amid the various groups.
They consist chiefly of figures and emblematical devices.
These sculptures are executed with a nicety of detail whic i
gives them historical interest, as they mark with accu¬
racy the costume of the time and the people, and the form
and variety of the armour used at different periods.
But the most splendid division of the rums is the mag¬
nificent colonnade, which occupies the terrace, and which
having survived the devastations of war and the wreck ot
empires, remains on the desolate plain a most impressive
image of departed grandeur. I he terrace upon which
these pillars stand stretches N. and S. 350 feet, and from
E. to W. 380 feet; the greater part of the intervening
space being covered with broken capitals, shafts of pil¬
lars, and numerous fragments exquisitely sculptured. There
were formerly four divisions of columns, namely, a central
proup of thirty-six pillars, with two rows of six each on
1 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, pp. 256, 267.
2 Gulistan of S’adf, ch. iv., story 12. The word in its first sense
3 Travels in Persia, Georgia, &c., vol. i., p. 583.
means “pool,” but it is now obsolete (Binning, vol. ii,, p. ii., note).
I
PERSIA.
432
Persia, either side, as well as in front; in all seventy-two columns.
Of the division in advance only one was standing in 1818
when Sir II. Porter visited the spot.1 About 38 feet
from the western edge of the terrace appears the second
double range of columns, of which only five remained in
1818. The distance is 268 feet to the corresponding east¬
ern rows, of which only four columns remained in the above
year. At a distance of 60 feet from the eastern and
western colonnades stood the central range of columns, to
the number of thirty-six ; but of these no more than five
remained at the said period entire. The three exterior
double rows of columns are of uniform architectme, and
described by Sir R. K. Porter as being perfectly beautiful.
“ The total height of each column is 60, feet, the circum¬
ference of the shaft 16 feet, and its length horn the capi¬
tal to the top 44 feet. The shaft is finely fluted in fifty-
two divisions; at its lower extremity begins a cinctuie and
a torus; the former 2 inches, the latter 1 foot in depth.
From thence devolves a pedestal, in form of the cup and
leaves of a pendant lotus. It rests upon a plinth of 8
inches, and measures in circumference 24 feet 6 inches;
the whole, from the cincture to the plinth, comprising a
height of 5 feet 10 inches. The capitals which remain,
though much injured, suffice to show that they were also
surmounted with a double demi-bull. Ihe heads of the
bull forming the capitals take the directions of the faces of
the respective fronts ol the terrace; and I think there can
be no doubt that the wide hollow between the necks re¬
ceived a beam, meant to support and connect an entabla¬
ture, over which has been placed the roof.” 1 he dimen¬
sions of the central pillars are the same as those of the
others, only that they are 55 feet in height, whilst the
others are 60 feet. The capitals, however, which surmount
them are of quite a different character, being of the same
description with that in the great portal where the crowned
and winged bull is so conspicuous an object. The two
lower divisions of the capital (it being of a triad form) are
evidently constructed of the hollowed lotus. Ihe upper
compartment has only ttvo volutes. The middle compart¬
ment which is one division of lotus, appears to have had
some extraneous body introduced into the opening be¬
tween it and the lower compartment of the flower; and
the angular and unfinished state of that side of the capital
seems to testify the same. “ Here then,” says Sir R. K.
Porter, “ the connecting-line must have been whence the
roof could spring.”
The nearest building to the palace of the forty pillars
occupies a space of 170 feet by 95, and it is approached
by a double flight of stairs, which are almost in complete
ruin ; but from the fragments it appears to have been
adorned with sculptures resembling the royal guards and
other figures. The side to the E. is so choked up with
ruins that no corresponding trace of stairs can be found.
To the S. the whole face of the terrace which supports
this building is occupied with another superb flight ot steps,
which terminates in a landing-place 48 feet by 10. Its
front is divided by a tablet bearing an arrow-headed in¬
scription, on each side of which are seen spearmen of a
gigantic stature. There appear to have been also other
apartments with lofty entrances, composed of four solid
upright blocks of marble of a colour nearly black, within
the portals of which are bas-relief figures ot two guards
sculptured on the sides of the walls, besides various other
figures, one of a monarch clad in royal robes; whilst in
other parts there are representations of single combats be¬
tween a man and a lion, a griffin, or some other imagi¬
nary creature. In another division of the same building
may be seen a variety of inscriptions, cuneiform, Kufic,
1 Pietro della Valle was the first European who visited Istakhar.
Morier found but 16.
Arabic, and Persian. Still farther to the southward ap- Persia,
pear other elevations or terraces covered with vast masses
of ruin, under which scarcely any traces of the original
structure can be discovered ; but here may be seen the
remains of colonnades of elaborate sculpture. From the
extremity of the eastern colonnade on the terrace of Chihal
Minar is an expanse of 315 feet, the plain of which is in¬
terrupted by an immense pile of ruins, which has the ap¬
pearance of having been heaped up for centuries, and
which Sir R. K. Porter conjectures to cover a division of
the palace answerable to that immediately to the S., and
containing, as he supposes, the banqueting-chambere and
other apartments ; and this conjecture he supports by many
special reasons and learned authorities. South ot this is
another terrace, on which he supposes that there stood
those portions of the palace in which the monarch resided.
Here are the bases and plinths of pillars, and fragments ot
beautiful sculpture, scattered about. The ponderous door¬
ways and huge marble frames are yet in their places ; they
are of the finest workmanship, and are adorned with sculp¬
tures and figures such as those which have been already
noticed, and of which our limits do not admit ot a more
detailed description. A considerable way N. from the
columns stands a structure which is next in extent to the
Chihal Mindr, or the “Palace of the Forty Pillars.” It is a
perfect square of 210 feet on each side, and is entered by
two doorways on each side, and by a grand portal 13
feet in width, whilst the others are only 7. These are all
richly adorned with sculptures, representing scenes of state
or of royal parade, or emblematical figures of lions and
imaginary animals.
Among other remarkable antiquities of Persia, the tombs,
supposed to be those of her ancient kings,—namely, Cyrus
and his posterity,—have attracted the particular attention of
travellers. These excavations or tombs are generally cut
out of the solid rock. About 500 yards eastward from the
Hall of Columns, in the face of the mountain, is found a
niche 72 feet in breadth by 130 feet in height, divided into
two compartments, and covered, as usual, with sculptures
of nondescript animals, royal personages, and symbolical
figures. Three quarters of a mile southward from Takht-i-
Jamshid, a tomb was discovered by Niebuhr, and visited
by Morier, which seemed to have no entrance, from which
he supposes that those receptacles for the dead were enteied
by subterranean passages. The sepulchres ot Naksh-i-Rus-
tam, which have been visited by various European travel¬
lers, are also very curious. There are four excavations cut
out of the perpendicular cliff, at the height, according to
Sir R. K. Porter, of 60 feet from the ground. T.he one he
examined, and to which hewvas drawn up by ropes, consists
of an excavation in the solid rock of about 14 feet, in the
form of something like a Greek cross. Ihe length of the
cave, which forms the whole tomb, is 34 feet, and the height
9. It is adorned, like all the other ancient monuments,
with a variety of richly-sculptured figures of men and ani¬
mals, and emblematical devices. There are likewise nume¬
rous remains of antiquity in the plains of Murghab, 49 miles
N.N.E. of the ruins of Persepolis, and probably belonging
to the same era, which are fully described by Morier and
Porter. The most remarkable of these is the supposed
tomb of Cyrus; an interesting monument, of which the lat¬
ter writer gives an account with his usual accuracy. It is
surrounded by other ruins, which bear traces of the same
antiquity, as they contain numerous inscriptions in the an¬
cient arrow-headed character.
The very curious sculptures on the mountain called Bi-
Situn have already been noticed. Some have thought the
words mean “ without pillars ;” but it is probably a corrup-
This was in 1621, and 25 pillars were then standing. In 1809
PERSIA.
433
Persia, tion of a more ancient designation. Just over the fountain-
■ ^J head of a beautifully clear stream, which bursts from the
mountain about 50 yards from this rocky platform, are seen
the remains of an immense piece ot sculpture, so greatly
defaced that no continued outline can now be made out;
but by close examination the rude forms of several colossal
figures may be traced. The principal cause of the muti¬
lation seems to be, that additions have been made to the
original. In one place a Greek inscription has been intro¬
duced, and has, in its turn, been erased to make way for one
in Arabic. These rude sculptures are generally supposed
to be of high antiquity, some referring them to the age of
Semiramis. Above these appears an interesting piece of
sculpture, containing fourteen figures, one of a king tramp¬
ling on a prostrate body, probably of some ot his cap¬
tives. He has a diadem and all the other badges of sove¬
reignty; and a row of nine persons, having their hands bound
behind them, and being themselves bound together by a
cord round their necks, are seen approaching him in a sup¬
pliant posture, and with a dejected expression. Sir It. K.
Porter supposes that these ten persons, including the one
under the feet of the monarch, represent the ten tribes
which were carried into captivity; and the design of the
sculpture, which is executed in a style not inferior to any
at Persepolis, is to commemorate the final conquest of
Israel by Salmanaser, King of Assyria and the Medes.
Above the head of each individual is a compartment with
an inscription in the arrow-headed writing, full translations
of which will be found in Rawlinson’s Herodotus, vol. ii.,
p. 590.
There are other monuments of antiquity, as at laid
Bustan, already noticed, and at Shahpur, which belong to
the era of the Sassanian kings, and which afford^ important
and curious illustrations of these times. Fifteen miles
north of Kazarun are the ruins of Shahpur, once the capital
of Persia. At the entrance of the valley where it is situ¬
ated stands an insulated hill, which exhibits portions of its
ancient walls and towers; and the precipitous cliffs are
carved with sculptures. On the southern side of the river
which waters the plains, a much-mutilated bas-relief is carved
on the surface of the rock, consisting of two colossal eques¬
trian figures. Their height appears to be about 15 feet.
A tablet, divided into three compartments, contains the
second sculpture. In the central compartment is an
equestrian figure, with the usual badges of Sassanian sove¬
reignty. A suppliant is on his knees before the horse’s
head, his hands extended, and his face expressive of en¬
treaty ; whilst another figure with Egyptian features stands,
likewise in the attitude of a suppliant, to the right of this
compartment. The right-hand section contains three
figures in attitudes of supplication. A greater number of
tablets are still to be seen on the opposite side of the river.
They contain various figures and designs, one of which is
an elaborate representation of the triumph of a Persian
over a Roman army. Colossal horsemen are pictured on
others, with the royal emblems of Persia. In the Shahpur
valley is a mountain, which is crowned by a perpendicular
precipice of limestone 700 feet in height. Here is a cavern
of enormous extent, its communication intricate and endless,
with every form and variety of stalactites diversifying the
different chambers, some of which are wonderfully lofty and
spacious, and, when entered by torch-light, present the
most brilliant reflection of all sorts of fantastic shapes.
The entrance to the cave is about 140 feet above the base
of the precipice; and here, in a spacious archway 150 feet
broad, and nearly 40 feet in height, within which is a sort
of natural ante-chamber, stands the pedestal of a statue,
which lies mutilated and prostrate, with the head down¬
wards. Both have been cut out of the solid rock. The
figure, which, when erect, must have been from 15 to 20
feet in height, represents some one of the Sassanian kings,— '
Shahpur, as is supposed. There are various other Sassanian
relics in the vicinity of Persepolis,—namely, the tombs of
the kings, where the sculptures, by the natives called
Naksh-i-Rustam, are to be found; also the sculptures namod
Naksh-i-Rajib. The sculptures of Naksh-i-Rustam are
contained in six tablets cut on the perpendicular rock, and
containing many bas-reliefs of the triumphs or victories of
the Persian arms under the Sassanian kings, with figures
of the sovereign in various attitudes, and of horsemen en¬
gaged in hostile collision. The sculptures at Naksh-i-Rajib
consist of three tablets containing seven colossal and two
diminutive figures. One of the sovereigns is on horseback
in his greatest pomp ; and underneath is a Greek inscrip¬
tion, which has been restored and translated by M.de Sacy.
It runs thus “ This is the resemblance of the servant of
Ormazd, the divine Shahpur, king of kings, of Iran and
An-Iran, of the race of the gods, son of the servant of Or¬
mazd, the divine Artaxares, king of kings, of Iran and An-
Iran, of the race of the gods, grandson of the divine Babek
the king.” The remaining tablet contains but a repetition
of the two horsemen holding a ring. There are other
ancient monuments in different parts of Persia, consisting
of sculptured rocks and other remains resembling Hruidical
erections.
Persia.
The early history of Persia is lost in remote antiquity, and for History,
authentic accounts, the uncertain gleanings of oral tradition, or the
fictions of poets, have been substituted. The Shdhndmah of Fir¬
dausi, the Homer of Persia, a legendary history of the Persian
kings, composed of such materials, comprises all the information
possessed by the Asiatic writers prior to the Muhammadan con¬
quest. From this poem, and similar authorities, Sir J. Malcolm
has compiled the early annals of Persia, and to it we refer our
readers for some account of that dim era.
It will be sufficient here to mention that, according to the Dd-
bistdn, there were four dynasties before Kaiumars, whom the Mu¬
hammadan histories, such as the Zinatu-t-tawdrikh declare to
have been the grandson of Noah, or Noah himself. These four y-
nasties, viz.,—1. That of Mahabad; 2. The Jaianian ; 3. t hat of
ShahKaliv: and 4. That of Yessan,—are purely fabulous. 1 he dy¬
nasty founded by Kaiumars is called the Pishdadyan, and must be
regarded as legendary and pre-historic, though doubtless there is a
basis of truth in what is said regarding it in the Shdhndmah, of
which it forms the sole subject. The kings were-1. Kaiumars
2. Hushang, the discoverer of fire, and inventor of useful arts
3. Tahmuras, the legendary founder of Babylon Nineveh, and
Isfahan ; 4. Jamshid, the founder of Istakhar PersePollS’ ^
inventor of wine ; 5. Zahhak, the Syrian or Arabian, whom some
take to be Nimrod; 6. Faridun; 7. Minuchihr; 8. Nauzar 9.
Afrasiab; 10. Zu; 11. Karshasp ; 12. Afrasiab II., who was de¬
feated by Rustam, and the victor placed Kai Kubad, a descendant
of Minuchihr, on the throne, and with this prince commenced the
Kaianian, or second dynasty,the^narchsbelongingto whmhbore
the following names:-l.Kai Kubad; 2. Kal K„aU ^
4 Luhrasn; 5. Gashtasp, in whose reign Zartasht or Zoroaster
fntroducet? the fire-worship; 6. B.hman, ” ^d“h"eD™Zd“t ’
7 Dara I • 8. Dara II., or Darius Codomanus of the Greeks.
’ From the evidence of the cuneiform inscriptions, and other mo-
numems Mh: Gue history of the rise of the
tn hp as follows:—At a very remote period, during the existence oi
a powerful Assyrian mona/chy, there took place a great migration
of the Arian nation westward from beyond the Indus towards Per-
• i at v in £80 b c the migration being still incomplete,
Zr/a ‘be Hn nation which was snb^ently c.il.d .ho
Medes encountered a great Assyrian king named Shal-Manuhara,
whose history is recorded in the cuneiform character on a black
obelisk and has been deciphered. From this period, a struggle
continued between the Medes and Assyrians till B.C. 710, when
Sargon, the third king of the Lower Assyrian empire, completely
subdued the newly-arrived tribe, and planted a number of cities
in their territory, some of which were filled with Israelites, whom
£‘gon had carrhid off from Samaria. The Modes, however eon-
stantly endeavoured to assert their independence; and in B.C. 63.,
Cyaxares shook off the Assyrian yoke, and, having taken Nineveh
in B C 625 laid the foundation of the Arian empire, which, sixty-
1 KawliHSon’s Herodotus, voj. i., p. 406,
VOL. KVH,
3 l
434
PERSIA.
Persia.
seven years afterwards, was fully established by Cyrus. It has
been shown by Mr Grote, in his History of Greece, vol. iii., pp. 307,
308, that the account given us by Herodotus of Deioces is foreign
to the oriental character, and savours far more of the Greek; and
Colonel Rawlinson remarks that the very name of Deioces is a
mere repetition of that of Astyages, the one being a corruption of
Dahdk, “ biting,” and the other Aj-dahdk, “ the biting snake.
Further, it does not seem probable that Cyaxares would have been
so universally regarded as the founder of the Median empire, had
he been preceded by Phraortes. On the whole, therefore, it seems
reasonable to consider what is said of the two first-named kings as
mere fiction, and to look upon Cyaxares as the first leader of the
Arian hordes, who founded a kingdom after their migration west¬
ward from the Indus, and the same as the Kai Kubad of the Per¬
sian writers. Kai Kaus, then, would be Darius the Mede of the
book of Daniel, that is, Cyaxares, grandson of the first Cyaxares,
and son of Astyages by Ariena, the daughter of Alyattis, King of
Lydia; and Kai Khusrau is Cyrus. Luhurasp, who is called in
the inscriptions Kabaijiya, and Gashtasp, or Kishtasp, must be .
regarded as the same as Cambyses and Darius Hystaspes, and the
Pseudo-Smerdis is called in the Bisitun inscriptions Gaumata Go-
mates. It is very remarkable that there is no mention of Xerxes,
or of his famous expedition to Greece, to be found in the Persian
writers or the legends of that country. Instead of Xerxes, a Queen
Homai is mentioned as having reigned thirty years in succession
to Bahman or Ardishir Dirazdast, the Artaxerxes Longimanus of
the Greeks. A further examination of the inscriptions is required
to unravel these difficulties, and also to reconcile the Persian ac¬
count of Alexander the Great with that which has been adopted
from the Greek writers. According to the former, Alexander was
the elder brother of Dara or Darius II., being the son of Dara I.
by the daughter of Philip of Macedon. In the meantime, enough
has been discovered to show that there is much fiction in the ac¬
counts of this Persian dynasty furnished by the Greeks. With
these preliminary remarks, we proceed briefly to notice the chief
circumstances mentioned by those writers.
Arbaces, according to Prideaux, who makes this prince the
Tiglath-Pileser of [Scripture, was the first sovereign of Media. He
flourished B.C. 747, and conspired with Belesis, governor of Baby¬
lon, and other nobles, against Sardanapalus, with whose death ter¬
minated the Assyrian monarchy. Without attempting to reconcile
this view with that which makes Deioces the first, or that which,
regarding Deioces as a fabulous character, substitutes Cyaxarcs
for him, we proceed to note the statements of the Greek histo¬
rians. Cyrus, according to them, was the chief of a pastoral
horde, who, quitting their own comparatively barren and un¬
productive country, subdued the territories of their wealthy
and luxurious neighbours. He was the conqueror of Babylon,
and on the ruins of that great kingdom founded that of Persia,
which was gradually extended by conquest from the Mediter¬
ranean to the Indus and the Oxus. Cyrus was succeeded, in
the year 529 before Christ, by Cambyses, the Ahasuerus of the
Scriptures, who gave himself up to sensuality and cruelty. Still
he extended his empire, having reduced Egypt to the state of a
colony, and also conquered a great part of Northern Africa.
Pseudo-Smerdis, feigning himself to be the brother of Cambyses,
who had been murdered, was by a faction of the Magi raised to
the throne B.C. 522. Otanes, a Persian nobleman, finding out the
deceit, conspired with six other chiefs, who agreed to assassinate
him, which they effected, after he had reigned eight months.
Along with him they put to death a number of the Magi; and
having decided on a monarchical form of government, they resolved
to assemble next morning at sunrise without the city, on horse¬
back ; and it was agreed that he whose horse should neigh first
should be chosen king. The well-known trick of Aibares, the
groom of Darius Hystaspes, secured the throne to his master, 521.
He brought his master’s horse the evening before, with a mare, to
the appointed spot; and the horse, as soon as he arrived, next
morning, recollecting the mare, neighed, and he was immediately
saluted king. The Greek character and fabrication of these tales
is self-evident. Darius Hystaspes reigned over Persia thirty-six
years, and was distinguished as a legislator as well as a conqueror.
He divided the country into nineteen satrapies or provinces, each
liable for the payment of a fixed tribute. Over these provinces
satraps were sent to preside, with the delegated authority of the
king. Their duties were, to collect the revenue, to improve agri¬
culture, and to perform all the royal commands. They were after¬
wards invested with military commands; and securities were de¬
vised against their usurpation of independent authority. An
- U.DU1 JJO/blUU. UA u - -
establishment of couriers was at the same time instituted, for ex¬
pediting orders through every part of the empire. A regular and
efficient military force was also organized by this monarch, and Persia,
maintained at the expense of the different provinces. In process
of time, Grecian mercenaries were taken into pay; and, when the
country was engaged in war, the army was recruited from the
people.
The reign of Darius was distinguished by several important
warlike expeditions. Crossing the Thracian Bosphorus, he invaded
Europe with 700,000 troops. But the Scythian tribes between the
Danube and the Don successfully resisted his attack, and forced
him to retreat with loss. He then overran the territories of Thrace
and Macedonia, and left Megabyzus to complete the subjection of
those provinces. He next invaded the countries to the east of
Persia with a powerful army, and conquered some of the countries
bordering on the Indus, which he formed into a twentieth satrapy,
under the name of India ; and his vast armies were also sent to over¬
whelm the rising communities of Greece. But his troops, though
they far outnumbered their enemies, were completely overthrown
on the plains of Marathon by the forces of the Greeks. Amidst
these disasters the reign of this monarch terminated ; and he was
succeeded by his son Xerxes B.c. 486.
Xerxes carried on a successful war against the Egyptians,
w'hom he gave over to the vengeance of his brother Achaemenes;
and he resolved to avenge himself on the Greeks. \\ ith this view,
he fitted out a mighty armament, in which he embarked an army
amounting to 3,000,000 of troops, or, with all the camp followers,
to above 5,000,000 ;2 and with this vast force he resolved to anni¬
hilate the independence and liberties of Greece at a single blow.
But he was met by the devoted bands of Grecian patriots, and ex¬
perienced a severe check at the celebrated pass of T hermopylse,
which was defended by 300 Spartans against his whole army, and
which he only carried by an immense sacrifice of men; and his
fleet and army w'ere finally overthrown at Salamis, Plataea, and
Mycale, he himself escaping from the scene of action in a miser¬
able fishing-boat. He was assassinated, after a reign of twenty-
one years.
He wras succeeded, in 464, by his grandson Artaxerxes Longi¬
manus, the Ardishir Dirazdast, or Longhands of the Persian his¬
torians. He is celebrated for the internal regulation of his em¬
pire, and for the intelligence which he acquired relative to all the
concerns of the kingdom, by means of the agents whom he em-
ployed. He is represented by some as the Ahasuerus of the Scnp-
tures, because he is said to have treated the Jews with lenity and
kindness, and to have married one of that nation. The two suc¬
ceeding sovereigns were Xerxes II. and Darius II. whose reigns were
short. The latter was succeeded in 605 by Artaxerxes Mnemon, his
eldest son, who had to contend for the crown with his younger bro¬
ther Cyrus. It was in his reign that the famous retreat of the
Ten Thousand took place under Xenophon, who has given a narra¬
tive of the expedition. His reign, which continued twenty years,
was a scene of intrigue, in which favourites bore the chief svi ay,
and during which those symptoms of decay became visible which
terminated at last in the overthrow of the kingdom. He was suc¬
ceeded by Darius or Dara I., who reigned only twelve years. . n
the year 336 B.C., Darius Codomanus, or Dara II. of the Persian
historians, assumed the sceptre. It was in his reign that exan-
der of Macedonia, having subdued the different principalities ot
Greece, and consolidated their power into one, invaded 1 ersia. e
crossed the Hellespont in the year 334 B.C., with a well-disciplined
and veteran force of 35,000 men, and encountered and defeated the
Persian host on the banks of the Granicus. The hasty levies o
Persia were again routed in the fatal battle of Issus, in w ic i
100,000 were slain; and the family of Darius fell into the Victor's
hands. The battle of Arbela, which succeeded, completed the
triumph of Alexander. The Persian armies were routed and dis¬
persed, and the unfortunate Darius, flying from the field of ba e,
was seized by his nobles, at the head of whom was Bessus, wno
bound him in golden chains, and were carrying him to Bactnana
in a car covered with skins ; but being overtaken by the conqueror,
they stabbed their victim to the heart, and left him in the chariot
weltering in his blood. With Darius terminated the dynasty of y-
rus, which had subsisted 206 years, according to the Greek writers.
After the death of Alexander, Asia continued for a long perio
a scene of war and commotion, owing to the contests which arose
amongst his successors for the dominion of the country. But a, ou
the year 307 B.C. Seleucus Nicator by his success had. acquired t e
dominion of all the countries which lie between the Euphrates, t e
Indus, and the Oxus, and had even carried his victorious arms o
the Ganges, and established a friendly alliance with Sandrocottus,
or Chandra Gupta, King of Pataliputra, who reigned on t e
Ganges, near Allahabad. In B.c. 279 Seleucus was succeeded by
Antiochus Soter, who again, in 261, was succeeded by Antioc us
1 Rawlinson’s Herodotus, vol. i., p. 408, note.
The absurdity of these numbers needs no comment.
PERSIA.
435
Theus. In the eleventh year of his reign, or, according to Thomas,1
in 255, the Parthians revolted under Arsaces, who founded the
third Persian dynasty, the Arsacidae or Ashkanians,—Ashk being
the name given to Arsaces by the Persians. Arsaces, enraged at
an affront offered to Tiridates his brother, put the governor of
Parthia, Agathocles, to death, and declared himself independent.
The following, as given by Thomas, vol. ii., p. 299, is the list of
the Ashkanian kings, of whose authentic history little is known :—
1. Ashk, or Arsaces 1 255
2. Tiridates I., or Ashk II. ...253
3. Artabanusl., or Shahpur...216
4. Phraapatius 196
5. Phrahates 1 181
6. Mithradates 1 173
7. Phrahates II 136
8. Artabanus II 126
9. Mithradates II 123
10. Mnaskires   80
11. Sinatroces   77
12. Phrahates III  70
13. Mithradates III  60
14. OrodesI  54
15. Phrahates IY  37
A.D.
16. Phrahataces   4
17. Orodes II.    5
18. Yonones 1  5
I Artabanus III I
) Tiridates III .1 ^
' (Artabanus III J
20. Bardanes  42
21. Gotarzes,or Bahram Gudarz 45
22. Meherdates  50
23. Vonones II  51
24. Vologeses I., or Volas   51
25. Artabanus IV., or Hormuz 62
26. Pacorus or Firuz   77
27. Chosroes or Khusrau 108
28. Parthamaspates 115
29. Chosroes restored  116
30. Vologeses II., or Volas 121
31. Vologeses III., or Volasin 148
32. Vologeses IV 192
„o ( Vologeses V 1 r)nq
‘ I ArtabanusV.,or Arduan )
34. Artaxerxes, King of Persia, first of the Sassanidae 235
The alternative appellations are those given by the Persian his¬
torians, who, it will be seen, omit the majority of these princes
altogether. They are also silent as to the wars between this
dynasty and the Romans. We learn, however, from the historians
of the West that Pacorus, the 26th king, sent an embassy to Sylla
in A.D. 90 ; and that in a.D. 53, Crassus, having passed the Euphra¬
tes a second time to carry on a war he had commenced against the
Parthians, was defeated and slain, with 20,000 of his men, and
10,000 were made prisoners. Next year Cassius, his quaestor, who
had carried off the remains of the army, repelled from Syria an
invading Parthian army; and in 51, on their returning and be¬
sieging Antioch, he defeated them again with great slaughter. In
the years 41 and 40, however, they returned and conquered all
Syria, and took Jerusalem, slew Phasael, made Hyrcanus prisoner,
and settled Antigonus on the throne of Judea. In 39 Ventidius
defeated the Parthians in a great battle, and drove them out of
Syria; and in 36, Antony having invaded Parthia, was repulsed
with the loss of the larger portion of his army. In 20 B.c. the
Parthian king sent an embassy to Augustus to seek his friendship,
and restored the standards taken from Crassus and Antony, and all
the surviving prisoners.
In 165 a.d. the generals of the Emperor Marcus took Seleucia,
which had become the Parthian capital, and put 300,000 of the in¬
habitants to death. They at the same time pillaged and destroyed
Ctesiphon; but this latter city, in 198, had become so populous
and strong, that it maintained an obstinate defence against the
Emperor Severus, and, when stormed, supplied him with 100,000
captives. Even after this, Ctesiphon recovered, and became the
winter residence of the Parthian monarchs. About the year 217,
the Emperor Macrinus purchased a disgraceful peace for Parthia
by the payment of a sum equivalent to three millions of our money.
This is all that is known of a period which is justly declared by
D’Herbelot to be the most obscure in Persian history.
The Sassanian dynasty of kings forms a new era in the history
of Persia. These monarchs were engaged in long and bloody wars
with the Roman emperors; and hence we are enabled to correct
the imperfect records of the East by the authentic narrative of the
Roman historians. The first of these, Artaxerxes, or Ardishxr, as
he is called by the Persian historians, began his reign A.D. 226,
and, having pacified the province of Ears, made himself master of
’Irak. Having defeated and slain Aravan or Artabanus, who ruled
over the mountainous country about Hamadan and Karmansbah,
he was hailed in the field with the title of Shahanshah, or “ King of
Kings,”—a name which has ever since been assumed by the sovereigns
of Persia. In the course of his reign he extended and consolidated
his newly-acquired dominions, and waged, with various success, a
war with the Roman emperor Alexander. He laboured to restore
the religion of Zoroaster, and the authority of the Magi, which he
enforced by the most sanguinary decrees. He was succeeded by
his son Shahpur or Sapor, a.d. 238, who carried on a successful
war against the Romans, whose emperor, Valerian, in an attempt
to relieve Edessa, was defeated and taken prisoner. Shahpur
gained many victories over the Roman armies; but towards the
latter part of his reign he suffered reverses. His army7 was attacked
by Odenathus, prince of Palmyra; and his country was afterwards Persia,
invaded by Aurelian, the warlike Emperor of Rome. Hurmuzd his i
son, the Hormisdas of Greek authors, reigned only one year, and
was succeeded by Bahram or Varanes I. in 271, who evinced his
zeal for the ancient religion of Persia by the execution of Mani,
founder of the sect of Manicheans. He reigned three years and
three months, and was succeeded by Bahram or Varanes II.,
a weak prince. He engaged in a war with the Emperor Carus,
who conquered Mesopotamia, carried his arms across the Tigris,
and made himself master of Ctesiphon. Bahram or Varanes III.
reigned only three months. His brother Narsi (the Narses of
the Greeks) reigned nine years, and abdicated in favour of his son
Hurmuzd or Hormisdas II. He subdued Armenia, and signally
defeated the Emperor Galerius on the same fatal field on which
Crassus had been slain. The Romans invaded Persia next year,
and defeated Narses, who fled, leaving his tents and family in pos¬
session of the conquerors. An inglorious peace followed, by which
Mesopotamia and five districts to the eastward of the Tigris were
ceded to the Romans. No events of any consequence occurred
during the succeeding reign of Hurmuzd II. He was succeeded
in 308 by Shahpur or Sapor II., who was crowned king from his
birth, and during a reign of seventy-one years maintained the in¬
tegrity of his kingdom. His first operations were directed against
the Arab tribes, on whom he took a severe vengeance for having
invaded his territories. He was involved in bloody wars with the
Romans, in the course of which he experienced serious reverses.
Constantine advanced into Persia with a formidable army, and was
joined by the Arab forces. A dreadful conflict took place, in
which the Persian army was routed with great slaughter; and the
king himself narrowly escaped, with a few followers, from the fatal
field. But having recruited his army, he again took the field;
and in a night attack he recovered some of the advantages which
he had lost. .He was also successful in repelling the invasion of
Julian, who was killed by an arrow; and his successor Jovian was
fain to purchase a peace by the loss of all the provinces east of the
Tigris, which had been ceded in the former reign. He was suc¬
ceeded by Ardishir or Artaxerxes II., who was deposed by Shahpur,
the son of the late monarch, after a reign of four years. He
reigned only five years, when he was killed by the fall of a tent,
which was blown down by one of those whirlwinds which sometimes
occur in Persia. Bahram or Varanes IV., who succeeded, reigned
eleven years, and was at length killed in 399 by an arrow, in en¬
deavouring to quell a tumult in his army. The throne of Persia
was next filled by Yezdijird, the Greek Isdegerde. He is very
differently represented by the Persians and Greeks ; by the former
as cruel and abandoned to luxury, and by the latter as wise and
virtuous. He was killed by a kick of his horse, after a reign of
twenty years. Bahram Gur, or Varanes V., succeeded, and became
celebrated for his munificence and generosity. His dominions were
invaded, and partly overrun, by the Tatars, who, being flushed with
their conquest, gave themselves over to a false security, and were
one night surprised and defeated with great slaughter by Bahr&m.
The only fruit which he sought from this victory was peace with
all his neighbours, after which he returned to his capital. He was
engaged in wars with the Romans under Theodosius, in which nei¬
ther party bad any cause to boast. His ruling passion was the
chase, and he was fond of hunting the wild ass;. and it was in pur¬
suit of one of these animals that he lost his life in a deep pool nea^
Ausepas, about three marches from Shiraz, on the road to Isfahan.
According to the Shdhndmah, however, and other authorities, he
died a natural death. He was succeeded in 440 by his son 1 ezdi-
jird II., who followed his father’s footsteps, and during his reign
of eighteen years was only once engaged in war with the Romans.
The succession to the throne was now disputed-between Hurmuzd
or Hormisdas III., the younger son of Vezdijird, who was appointed
heir by his father, and Firuz or Perose the Elder, who, being sup¬
ported by an army of Tatars, to whose king he fled for support, and
by the chief nobles, succeeded in wresting the sceptre from his
brother’s hand, and in putting him to death, after reigning a year.
He lost his life in an expedition which he undertook against the
Tatar prince, by whom he had been treated with so much generosity.
Balias or Palash, the son of Firuz, now ascended the throne (485),
and was succeeded by Kubad or Cavades, who, though he was de¬
throned by his discontented subjects, re-conquered his lost dignity.
He carried on a successful war with Anastasius the Roman emperor,
and died, after a long and troublous reign, in 531.
His son and successor Khusrau Nushirvan, or Chosroes, is cele¬
brated by the Persian historians as a model of justice, generosity,
and sound policy. He is said to have been the fruit of a casual
amour of Kubad, who, flying from his brother Firuz, then esta¬
blished on the throne, halted for a night with a beautiful girl at
1 Indian Antiquities, vol. ii., p. 299.
Binning, vol. ii., p. 357.
436
PERSIA.
Persia. Naishapur. Four years afterwards, on his return to that city, his
fair mistress presented him with a boy, who was one day to reign
so gloriously on the Persian throne. His first care after his acces¬
sion to the sovereignty was to extirpate the pernicious sect of Maz-
dak, encouraged by his father, one of whose leading tenets was a
community of property and of women. The founder of the sect
and many of his followers were put to death; and the women and
property which they had appropriated were restored to those to
whom they belonged. He was indefatigable in promoting the pro¬
sperity of his dominions, in building and repairing bridges, in re¬
storing and re-peopling decayed towns and villages, in founding
schools and colleges, and in giving every degree of encouragement
to learned men, and even to the Greek philosophers who resorted
to his court. His empire was divided into four great governments,
—namely, 1st, Khurasan, Sistan, and Karman ; The lands de¬
pendent on the cities of Isfahan and Kum, the provinces of Gilan,
Azarbijan, and Armenia ; 3ct, The provinces of Pars and Ahwaz;
and 4t/j, ’Irak, which extended to the frontier of the Roman em¬
pire. A well-digested system of provincial government was in¬
troduced into those provinces, and every check adopted that could
prevent the abuse of power. He imposed a fixed and moderate
land-tax all over his dominions, and a capitation-tax on the Jews
and Christians ; and the strictest regulations were adopted for pre¬
serving the discipline of his army. The reign of Nushirvan was
illustrated as well by his conquests abroad as by his wise policy at
home. He compelled Justinian to conclude a disgraceful peace at
the price of 30,000 pieces of gold ; and the reduction of Syria, the
capture of Antioch, and the advance of the Persian armies to the
shores of the Mediterranean, attest his triumphant reign. Though
he was checked in his career of conquest towards the west, yet his
sway was finally extended over the countries beyond the Oxus,
some provinces of India, and the finest districts of Arabia. He
reached the advanced age of more than eighty years.
Hurmuzd or Hormisdas IV., the son of Nushirvan, ascended the
throne in 579. His administration was wise and prosperous for a
time, whilst he acted under the advice of his preceptor; but on the
death of the latter, he fell into every excess, and, after a short and
disastrous reign, was dethroned and put to death by one of his
generals, Bahram Chubin, who usurped the supreme authority.
But Khusrau Parviz, or Chosroes II., the son of the late king, flying
to the Roman emperor Maurice, his adopted father, was, by his
assistance, re-instated in the throne (591), and Bahram was forced
to seek refuge amongst the Tatars, whose armies he had formerly
defeated, and amongst whom he died. The new monarch showed
his gratitude to the Roman emperor by scrupulously fulfilling all
the engagements he had contracted with him. He surrendered
Dara and several other strong places on the frontier, and, besides,
sent him costly presents. But no sooner did he hear of the death
of Maurice, than he invaded the Roman territories with a large
army; pillaged and destroyed Dara, Mardin, Edessa, and Amida;
laid waste Syria ; took the holy city of Jerusalem; and set on fire
the magnificent churches of St Helena and Constantine.. The true
cross, which had been inclosed in a golden.case, and buried deep in
the earth, was discovered, and borne in triumph to Persia; and a
crowd of captive priests and bishops swelled the train of the con¬
queror. Egypt was added to his other conquests; his troops en¬
tered Alexandria in triumph; and, after carrying his victorious
arms westward to Carthage and Tripoli, and finally extirpating the
Greek colonies of Gyrene, he returned in triumph through the sands
of the Libyan desert. In the same campaign another army ad¬
vanced from the Euphrates to the Thracian Bosphorus; and, after
taking Chalcedon, his victorious troops remained encamped for
twelve years in the vicinity of Constantinople. But, whilst his
generals and his armies were thus gaining laurels in the field,
Khusrau was indulging at home in the most unheard-of luxury.
Every season a splendid palace was raised; and his thrones were
made of the most exquisite materials, one being formed to repre¬
sent the twelve signs of the zodiac and the hours of the day. His
treasures; his wives, amounting to 12,000, besides the incomparable
Shirin, or Irene the daughter of Maurice ; his horses, amounting
to 50,000; his Arabian charger of surpassing fleetness; and Ins
musician Barbud,—furnish inexhaustible topics for the pen ot the
historian, and for the hyperbolical praises ot his countiymen. u
his reign, hitherto glorious, was, towards its termination, closed
with misfortunes. Herodius, the Roman emperor, alike remar -
able for luxury and indulgence in the palace, and for valour an
military skill in the field, was roused to a sense of the public danger
by the victories of Khusrau, and with a powerful army suddenly
invaded Persia. In the course of six years he succeeded in strip¬
ping the Persian king of all his foreign conquests ; he defeated his
armies in every encounter ; marched without opposition into the
heart of his country ; destroyed his splendid palaces, and plundered
his hoarded treasures. His subjects, headed by his own son, at last Persia,
rebelled against him, and put him to death, after a reign of thirty-
eight years. Persia, after the death of this prince until the acces¬
sion of Yezdijird III. in 632, was a scene of confusion and misery,
from the combined evils of famine, the contentions of the nobles, a
succession of weak sovereigns, or rather, as Sir J. Malcolm terms
them, pageants of power, and from the threatened attack of the
Arabian tribes, who, under the standard of the Muhammadan faith,
had now become very formidable to all surrounding states. In their
first attacks on the Persians, the Muslim armies were repulsed, and
their leader Abu Obaid was slain. The Arabs, reinforced, were
again defeated by Mehran the Persian general. But in another
action the Persians were defeated, and their general slain. Yez-
dijird, who was now elevated to the throne, was the last hope of
the sinking state. An ambassador was sent to him from the Arabian
tribes, proffering peace on condition that he should accept of their
religion, and pay the taxes which all believers are bound to pay.
These terms were rejected with disdain. Great armies were now
assembled on both sides; they met on the plains of Nahavand, a.d.
641 where the Muhammadans gained a remarkable victory that for
ever decided the fate of Persia. The Persians brought 150,000 men
into the field,1 of whom 30,000 perished on the field, and many
more were drowned in a deep trench which surrounded the camp.
Persia, from this date, fell under the dominion of the Arabian
khalifs. Yezdijird, the last monarch of the Sassanian line, fled from
the field of battle to Sistan, to Khurasan, and lastly to Marv, from
which being also forced to fly, he concealed himself in a mill eight
miles distant. But the miller, tempted by his rich robes and
armour, murdered him whilst he slept, and thus ended, a.d. 6ol,
the dynasty of the Sassanides, and the Magian religion, which had
existed in Persia for 1200 years.
After the flight of Yezdijird, the armies of Persia, scattered and
discouraged, were able to oppose only a feeble resistance to the
hardy children of the desert, skilfully commanded, and, besides, in¬
flamed by a fanatic enthusiasm : and in a short time, accordingly,
they overran and laid waste the whole country with a bigoted
fury that had no parallel, sparing neither sex nor age, and sub¬
verting in one common ruin the laws, manners, and most sacred
institutions of the country. Many were contented to purchase life
by embracing the new faith; and others fled to the mountains and
fastnesses of the country, or to a distant land. “ The progress of
the conquerors,” says Sir John Malcolm, “ was rapid and wonder¬
ful ; colonies from the burning deserts of Arabia were extended
over the cold countries of Khorassan and Balkh ; and they flourished
on the soil to which they were transplanted.”2 The conquest of
the country being completed, it was divided into different pro¬
vinces, over which lieutenants were appointed; and it was thus
held for more than two centuries under the dominion of the khalifs.
Towards the year 868 A.D. the dominion of the khalifs began to totter
to its fall. In that year an adventurer expelled the governor of
the khalifs from Persia. He was Yakub-bin-Lais (or Suffar, whence
this dynasty was called the Suffarides), the son of a pewterer of the
name of Lais, in Sistan. He worked, when young, at his father s
trade; but he was prodigal of his money; and, tempted by his
necessities, he became the leader of a desperate band, which gra¬
dually increased with the success of his enterprises.^ He soon at¬
tained power and consideration ; and his aid was solicited by Salah-
ibn-i-Nasir, the ruler of Sistan, against his fellow-ruler of Khurasan.
He was afterwards raised to be commander of Salah’s army ; and
the first use he made of his power was to seize on the chief who had
conferred it on him, and to send him to Baghdad, -a service for
which he claimed and received the government of his native pro¬
vince, as the servant and lieutenant of the Faithful. He afterwards
took the important fortress of Hirat, reduced the province of Kar¬
man, marched thence to Shiraz, and finally made himself master of
the greater part of Persia. The khalif, secretly dreading his
power, sent him a formal investiture of certain territories as go¬
vernor, which he rejected with disdain. In A.D. 873 the Khalif
Muhammad declared Yakub a rebel, upon which that ambitious chief
marched against Baghdad, but was obliged to retire with the loss
of the greater part of his army. In 877 he marched again to the
attack, but was overtaken by disease, and died, leaving almost the
whole kingdom of Persia to his brother ’Amru, who reigned twenty-
three years, but was defeated and taken prisoner by Isma 11-bin-
Ahmad, a Tatar chief with whom he was at war, and, being sent
to Baghdad, was there executed. With Amru fell the fortunes of
his family; and though two more princes maintained a precarious
authority, the empire of Persia was divided between two families,
Samani and Dilami. The power of the first extended over Khura¬
san, Sistan, Balkh, Transoxiana, including the cities of Bukhara
and Samarkand. The Dilami princes exercised sovereign power
over the greater part of ’Irak, Fars, Karman, Khuzistan, and Laris-
1 Ouseley’s Trawls, vol. iii., p. 3,
2 History of Persia, vol. i., chap. viii.
PERSIA.
437
Persia, tan. The following is the list of the Samanides and Dilamites.
j Their names are as follows:—
Samanian or Samam Dynasty.
A.D.
1. Nasr-bin-Ahmad 874-5
2. Ism’ail-bin-Ahmad 892
3. Ahmad-bin-Ism’ail 907
4. Nasr-bin-Ahmad 914
5. Nuh-bin-Nasr 943
6. A’bd-ul-Malik-bin-Nuh 954
7. Al-Mansur-bin-Nuh 961
8. Nuh-bin-Al-Mansur 976
9. Al-Mansur-bin-Nuh, depos¬
ed and blinded..., 997
10. A’bd-ul-Malik-bin-Nuh 999
11. Ism’ail-bin-Nuh, killed ....1005
Dilamites.
A.D.
1. ’Ali Buyah 933
2. Ruknu’d-daulah 949
3. ’Izzu’d-daulah, who, after a
short time is deposed by
Azadu’d-daulah, who con¬
structed the Band-amir, or
famous dam near Perse-
polis 977
4. Samaniu’d-daulah ..982
5. Majidu’d-daulah, taken pri¬
soner by Mahmud of Ghaz¬
ni    1907
6. Malik Rahim, made prisoner
by Togral Bey Seljuki.....l055
7. The last of the race dies in
the service of Alp Aslan...1094
Of the Samanian dynasty, Ism’ail was the most celebrated. His
grandfather was a Tatar chief named Saman, who claimed descent
from Bahram Chubin, the Sassanian. He extended his conquests
both eastward and westward, and died in 907, at the age of sixty.
In the reign of Amir Nuh, the fifth Samanian king, Alptagin, his
viceroy in Khurasan, purchased a Turkish slave named Sabuktigin,
and, finding him to possess great qualities, gave him the highest
offices, and at last bequeathed to him all his estate. Sabuktigin
was thereupon chosen to succeed to the viceroyalty of Khurasan;
and in A.D. 367 made war upon Hindustan with such success that
Nuh recognised him as an independent prince, and, as such, called
him to his succour against the King of Turkistan. Sabuktigin
died in a.d. 387, and left his son Mahmud to succeed him. This
prince was the celebrated Mahmud of Ghazni, whose Indian wars
are so celebrated. He died in 1208; and his successor Masa’ud
was defeated by tne Seljuk Turks ; and in the next reign the House
of Ghazni lost the whole of their Persian possessions. These Tatar
tribes were numerous and powerful; they were a nation of. shep¬
herds, inured to fatigue, to long marches, and to every kind of
hardy exercise, and trained from their infancy to the use of arms.
Their numbers and discipline enabled them to overpower the civi¬
lized inhabitants of more fertile countries. _ Accordingly, in the
vear 1042, the Tatar tribes subdued Khurasan; and their sove¬
reign, Togral Beg, chief of the tribe of Seljuk, assumed the state of
a sovereign at Naishapur. In the succeeding twenty years Togral
overran all Persia, made himself master of Baghdad, and took pri¬
soner the sovereign pontiff, the commander of the Faithful. He
approached him, however, with every outward mark of reverence,
and was constituted the temporal lieutenant of the eastern and
western divisions of the empire. This alliance was further cemented
by a marriage with the daughter of the khalif. But Togral Beg,
who had by this time attained to his seventieth year, died a few
months after the marriage. He was succeeded in 1068 by his
nephew Alp-Arslan, the “ Valiant Lion,” who has been praised by
all historians for his justice, valour, and generosity. He successfully
defended his dominions against an invasion by the Romans, de¬
feated their armies, and, having made their emperor prisoner,
generously set him at liberty for a fair ransom. He was killed by
a rebellious chieftain whom he had ordered to be put to death, but
who, having shaken off his guards, assailed him on the throne with
all the fury of despair. Alp-Arslan, an unerring archer, seized his
bow, and commanded his guards to stand aloof: but for the first
time his arrow missed its mark, and he fell under the assassin s
stroke.
The celebrated Malik Shah, his son, succeeded to the throne in
1072 ; and his reign rivalled, and even surpassed, in glory that of
his father. Syria and Egypt were subdued by his victorious gene¬
rals; Bukhara, Samarkand, and Kbarazm yielded to his sway ; and
he received homage and tribute from the tribes beyond the Jaxartes,
and from the distant country of Kashgar. Including the territo¬
ries of all those princes whom he had conquered, and obliged to do
him homage and to pay tribute, his dominion extended from the
Mediterranean to the wall of China. The country was greatly im¬
proved during his reign ; many colleges and mosques were built;
and agriculture was promoted by the construction of canals and
water-courses. Learning was also encouraged ; and an assembly of
astronomers from every part of Malik Shah’s wide dominions were
employed for several years in reforming the calendar ; and their
labours, which established the Jalalean, or “ Glorious Era,” is a proof
of the attention which was given at this period to the noblest of all
sciences. For thirty years after the death of Malik Shah, Persia
was distracted by the wars of his four sons, who contended for the
supreme power; but Sanjar having at length triumphed over his
competitors, was elevated to the throne. His reign was for a time
successful and prosperous. He resided in Khurasan; and from this
spot, as from a centre, his dominion extended in one direction be¬
yond the Indus, and in another to the Jaxartes. Towards the latter V.
end of his reign, he experienced the most signal reverses of fortune.
Advancing into Tatary, he was completely defeated by the mo¬
narch of Kara Kathai, his family were made prisoners, and all his
baggage was plundered. He afterwards marched against the Tur-
kaman tribe of Ghaz, who had refused their royal tribute, and in
a decisive action which ensued he was defeated and taken prisoner.
After being long detained and cruelly treated, he made his escape,
and returned to his own country, where the spectacle of his wasted
dominions, ravaged and destroyed by barbarous invaders, so preyed
upon his spirits, that he died of melancholy in 1175, at the age of
seventy-three. After his death, Persia continued during forty
years distracted by the wars between different branches of the Sel-
jukian dynasty. The last who exercised sovereign power was
Togral III., who was slain by the monarch of Kharazm, as he went
into battle flushed with wine.
From the decline of this dynasty to the conquest of Persia by
Hulaku Khan, son of the great conqueror Jangiz or Genghis, the
country was distracted by the contests of these rival chiefs, who
are known under the name of Atabaks. They were petty princes,
who, taking advantage of the weakness and anarchy which pre¬
vailed, extended their authority over some of the finest provinces
of the country. A detailed account of the progress and decay of
these various dynasties would exceed our limits; nor would it con¬
tain either amusement or instruction. But there is one chief who
requires to be noticed, who, by means of assassins devoted to his
purposes, caused the most powerful sovereigns to tremble, and
spread far and wide the terror of his mysterious power. His fol¬
lowers were reckoned at 50,000 ; they were called mysterious and
devoted; and each was bound, under the most dreadful sanctions,
to sacrifice, at the command of their chief, either his own life or
that of another. Hasan Sabah was the first of these chiefs. He
had been mace-bearer of Alp-Arslan ; but being displeased with
his minister Nizamu-’l-Mulk, he retired to Rhe, and afterwards to
Syria, where he entered into the service of a chief of the family of
Ism’ail, and adopted their views concerning the right of the de¬
scendants of Ism’ail to the holy dignity of Imam, instead of the
younger brother of Ism’ail. He afterwards returned to Rhe, his
native place, where, leaguing himself with other malcontents, he
succeeded in gaining possession of the mountain fort of Allaha-
maut, whence he commenced a series of depredations on the sur¬
rounding country. Malik Shah Seljuki sent a force against him,
which was repulsed. He was soon afterwards exposed to a more
serious attack from the Sultan Sanjar, who resolved to extirpate a
race whose murders and depredations spread terror oyer his king¬
dom. But he was warned to desist from his fatal project by secret
threats of assassination. He had made some marches in the direc¬
tion of Allahamaut, when one morning as he awoke he discovered
Persia.
a poniard stuck in the ground close to his bed-side, and read with
surprise, written on the handle, u Sultan Sanjar, e\\are. a no
thy character been respected, the hand that stuck this dagger in o
the hard ground could with more ease have plunged it into thy so
bosom.” The warrior who had often faced death in the field of
battle trembled at this mysterious threat; and ^ is certain that
desisted from his meditated attack. Hasan Sab4h brought seve
other hill-forts under his sway; and was styled Shaikhul-Jabal,
“Chief of the Mountain,” or, as his Arabic title has been erro¬
neously translated, “ The Old Man of the Mountain, the name by
which he and his descendants are distinguished in the E^opean
histories. Khallfs, princes, and nob!es fell ^der the blo^ s of
these assassins ; and the power and dominions of Hasan Sabah were
handed down through a series of sovereigns who ruled for I7U
years, the terror and disgrace of Asia, and who, in 125?> we^eHfin.^
extirnated by the overwhelming and victorious armies of Hulaku
KhanP who rivalled his sire in the rapidity of his conquests. _ His
first design was to turn his arms against the declining empire o
the Greeks ; but he was diverted from this object by an astrologer,
who directed his hostility against Baghdad, th® se^ ^JesS
muja niace was speedily stormed by the latur armies,
S m e put to the’ sword; the Kh.lif JIustasi™,
... , • iv surviving son, was slain; and thus was for ever ex¬
tinguished the celebrated empire of the Arabian khallfs. The
conquest of Persia, Mesopotamia, and all Syria, was achieved by
milk a in the same year, who meditated other ambitious schemes
of conquest in the Elst. But the defeat of his army m Syria by
the prince of the Mamelukes in Egypt compelled him to abandon
his design; and having restored his affairs in Syria, he fixed his
residence at Maragha, a beautiful town of Azarbijan, where he
spent his declining years in the cultivation of letters and philo¬
sophy He built an observatory on the summit of a mountain, the
foundation of which still remains, “ and where,” says Sir John Mal¬
colm “his favourite, Nasiru-’d-Din, formed those astronomical
tables which have become so celebrated under the namte of the Tables
438
PERSIA.
Persia.
of Il-Khanf,” and are still referred to for the latitude and longi¬
tude of such places as are not fixed by European observations. He
was succeeded by Abaka Khan in the year 1264, who was anxious,
by cultivating the arts of peace, to repair the ravages of war, and
to heal the still bleeding wounds of his wasted empire. He was
assailed from the E. by the powerful armies of the Tatar chiefs ; but
he succeeded in repelling all their attacks, and in maintaining the
integrity of his empire. He died, it is supposed by poison, in the
year 1281. The Mughul lords having held a council, raised to the
throne his brother Nikudar Oglan, seventh son of Hulaku, who,
though he was baptized in his youth, afterwards renounced
the Christian faith, which he persecuted with all the violence
of a renegade, and assumed the name of Ahmad Khan. But
his persecution of the Christians was so obnoxious to his own
subjects, that they conspired against him, and deprived him
both of his crown and of his life. Arghun, son of Abaka,
whom he had thrown into prison, was raised to the throne by
the Mughul nobles, but did not assume the name until he received
the investiture from the emperor of Tatary, by whom he was hailed
as sovereign of Persia, Arabia, and Syria. His reign was marked
by no event of any consequence ; and on his death, which occurred
in 1291, his brother Kai Khatu was raised to the throne by the
majority of the amirs. The latter was indolent, sensual, and ex¬
travagant; and his short and inglorious reign would hardly merit
notice, were it not for an attempt by an officer of the revenue de¬
partment, of known talent, to introduce a paper-currency, in order
to supply the means of royal extravagance. But credit, the foun¬
dation of paper-currency, cannot exist under a despotism which
affords no security either for life or for property. The scheme was
therefore altogether vain, and appears to have been the device of a
tyrant for cheating or plundering his defenceless subjects. From
this period until the conquest of the country by Timur Lang or Ta¬
merlane (“ Timur the Lame”), the history of Persia presents one
continued scene of intestine commotion. Timur was descended
from Korachar Nevian, who had been vazir to Chaghtai the son of
Jangiz, and also claimed kindred with that great conqueror. He
was counsellor and general to the Tatar prince, Ouleaus Khajah,
who ruled over the territories between the Oxus and the Jaxartes.
But having soon thrown off his allegiance to this prince, he led a
wandering life, with only a few faithful followers, enduring great
hardships and peril. He had formed a close alliance with Amir
Husain, one of the most powerful nobles of Transoxiana. Their
joint object was, to expel the enemies of their country; and Ouleaus,
though he had conquered in the field, having been forced to retire
with disgrace from the siege of Samarkand, the countries between
the Jaxartes and the Oxus were freed from the foreign enemy. A
war for the possession of Transoxiana now ensued between Timur
and Husain, and was only interrupted by a short and hollow peace,
which terminated in the overthrow of Husain, who was taken pri¬
soner, and, as is generally believed, put to death, with the secret
sanction or by the orders of his rival. Eleven years elapsed before
Timur had fully reduced to tranquillity his newly-acquired domi¬
nions, and had extended his power over Kashgar and Kharazm;
after which his whole reign was one unvaried course of the most
triumphant success. He subdued Khurasan, Kandahar, and Kabul,
and laid the two latter cities under heavy contributions. He in¬
vaded Persia, which, being now ruled by the degenerate descend¬
ants of Hulaku, was entirely barren and wasted. He extended the
limits of his empire to the farthest bounds of Tatary; and whilst
one body of his troops spread dismay to the wall of China, another
army penetrated to the banks of the Irtisch, and a third to the
Volga. Timur next marched against Baghdad, which he stormed,
and also took the remarkably strong fortress of Takrit; after
which his vast armies were dispersed over Asia Minor, Mesopota¬
mia, Kurdistan, and Georgia. He afterwards invaded Russia, and,
advancing to Moskow, took and plundered that city. Returning to
his own country, he prepared for the invasion of India. His war
with Baiazld or Bajazet, and his defeat and capture of that warlike
chief, were amongst the latest exploits of his active reign ; and. he
had embarked on the arduous enterprise of the conquest of China,
when he was arrested by an enemy which he could not conquer,
lie was seized with a violent illness at the city of Otrar, where he
expired in 1405, declaring Pir Muhammad Jahangir his successor.
The latter, however, had a competitor for the crown in Khalil Sul¬
tan, his cousin, by whom he was deposed and murdered ; and, in his
turn, Khalil, infatuated by his attachment to the beautiful Shadu
l Mulk, on whom he squandered the vast treasures of Timur, was de¬
posed by the nobles. He was attached to the arts of peace, a phi¬
losopher, a man of science, and a poet; and his whole care was to
heal the wounds inflicted on his country by the wars of the former
i eign. He rebuilt Hirat and Marv, and drew around him from all
quarters men of literature and science. Sultan Shah Rukh, uncle
v f Khalil Sultan, hearing of the misfortunes of his nephew, marched
from Khurasan, and his authority was acknowledged over all Trans¬
oxiana. Kalil Sultan was succeeded by Ulugh Beg, who also fol- Persia,
lowed the arts of peace, and neglected those of war. He was de-
posed and put to death in the year 1449, by his son ’AbduT Latif,
who was slain by his own soldiers within the short period of six
months. The Mughul dynasty in Persia was now fast verging to
decay, and its final extinction was preceded as usual by scenes of
confusion and civil war. The kingdom was at length divided
amongst three sovereigns,—viz., Sultan Husain Mfrza, a descend¬
ant of Timur, who kept a splendid court at Hirat, and governed
Khurasan; Kara Yusuf, the Turkaman chief of the Black Sheep
(the tribes of the Black and White Sheep being so called from their
carrying the figures of those animals on their respective standards),
ruled over Azarbljan, 'Irak, Ears, and Karman; and Azan Hasoun,
chief of the Turkamans of the White Sheep, who finally acquired
possession of all Western Persia, and attacked the Emperor Mu-
hummad II., from whom he sustained a severe defeat. After his
death the country was distracted by the contentions of his sons,
grandsons, and nephews, for the supreme authority; and their dis¬
sensions, whilst they accelerated their own ruin, prepared the way
for a native dynasty, which was gladly hailed by the people as the
auspicious omen of domestic peace.
Shah Ism’all was the first monarch of the Safavean line. He
traced his descent from Musa Kazim, the seventh imam. The first
of the family who attained to any celebrity was Shaikh Saflu- 1-
Dln, who resided in the town of Ardebll, and from whom the
dynasty takes its name of Safavean. His son Sadru-’d-Dln inhe¬
rited all the sanctity of his sire. The great conqueror Timur even
condescended to visit him in his cell, that he might receive his
blessing; and on his asking whether he, Timur, could do aught for
his comfort, “ Give up,” replied the saint, “ those Turks whom
thou hast carried off as captives.” The disinterested request was
granted, the saint was dismissed with presents, and the descendants
of these captives ever afterwards acknowledged their gratitude by
their ardent support of the Safavean dynasty. The immediate de¬
scendants of Sadru-’d-Dln, Khwajah ’All, Junaid, and Haidar, ac¬
quired also a great reputation for sanctity. The first, after making
the pilgrimage to Makka, visited Jerusalem, where he died. His
grandson Junaid assumed the sacred mantle or patched garment
worn by the Sufi teachers, after his father’s death; and so nu¬
merous were his disciples, that Kara Koinlu, who at that time ruled
in Azarbljan, took the alarm, and banished him from Ardebll. lie
returned to Shlrwan, where he was killed by an arrow in a conflict
with the troops of that province. He was married to a sister of
Azan Hasoun, chief of the Turkamans of the White Sheep ; and this
lady was the mother of Sultan Haidar, who succeeded him, and be¬
came a warrior as well as a saint. His uncle Azan Hasoun gave
him his daughter in marriage, by whom he had three sons, Sultan
’All, Ibrahim Mlrza, and Sultan Shah Ism’all. Haidar was de¬
feated and slain in an attack which he made on the province of
Shlrwan in order to revenge his father’s death. Sultan ’All suc¬
ceeded ; but he and his brothers were seized at Ardebll, by \akub,
one of the descendants of their grandfather Azan Hasoun, who had
become jealous of their influence, and confined in a fort, where
they remained prisoners for four years. They afterwards made
their escape, and were soon joined by numerous adherents. But
in the meantime they were attacked, Sultan ’All was slain, and
his brothers fled in disgrace to Gllan, where Ibrahim Mlrza died.
These events occurred during the infancy of Ism’all, the third son
of Haidar, of whom we know little till he attained the age of four¬
teen, when he collected his adherents, and marched against the
great enemy of his family, the ruler of Shlrwan, whom he defeated.
Alwand-Beg, a prince of the dynasty of the White Sheep, hasten¬
ing with his troops to crush the young warrior, shared the same
fate; and the triumphant prince having made himself master of
the province of Azarbljan, fixed his residence at Tabriz. Next
year he vanquished Sultan Murad, one of the military competitors
for supreme dominion in Persia; and in less than four years from
his leaving Gllan he was acknowledged the sovereign of Persia.
Shah Ism’all, not being born the chief of a tribe, had no heredi¬
tary feuds to avenge; his family were objects of hostility to no
one ; and he united in his person the reverence and affection of all
his subjects. He was a firm adherent of the Shl’ahs. The Turkish
tribes to whom he owed his elevation were highly honoured. They
were distinguished by a red cap, from which they received the
name of Kazilbash, or “ red heads,” which has descended to their
posterity. Persia, Khurasan, Baghdad, and Balkh, submitted to his
arms. His territories were afterwards invaded by Sultan Salim
about the year 1514, with a numerous and well-disciplined army.
In the action which took place, the Persian monarch, after per¬
forming prodigies of valour, was entirely defeated, which affected
him so deeply that he was never afterwards seen to smile. After
the death of Salim he crossed the Araxes, wrested Georgia from the
possession of Turkey, and died at Ardebll in the year 1523. He
was succeeded by his son Tamasp, who ascended the throne when
PERSIA.
Persia.
he was only ten years of age. His reign, which continued fifty-
three years, proved prosperous. He repelled the invasions of t e
TJzbaks on the east, and of the Turks on the west. It was from him
that Humayun, emperor of India, when he fled from his rebellious
subjects, received the aid which enabled him to regain his throne.
It was to him also that Elizabeth sent her envoy, Anthony Jenkin-
son. But the intolerance of the Muhammadan monarch could not
brook the presence of a Christian. His family was^numerous ; and
after several years of disputed succession, and of brief and trouble
reigns, ’Abbas, his grandson, was proclaimed king in 1582, when a
minor. During the earlier years of this monarch s reign, t le
country was alternately alarmed by internal disturbance an
foreign aggression, each party in their turn using the name of the
sovereign. But as he advanced to manhood he vindicated Ins
rights ; and in the course of three years he reigned the undisputed
sovereign of the country. His reign, which lasted forty-three
years, was highly successful and glorious. He was engaged in
wars with the Turks and with the Uzbaks, whose armies he de¬
feated in several actions ; and it was during his time that an ami¬
cable intercourse commenced between Persia and Europe.
Sir Anthony Shirley, a gentleman of family, was persuaded by
the Earl of Essex to repair to the court of Persia; and, with
twenty-six followers, gallantly mounted and richly attired, he pre¬
sented himself to the king, who received him with every mark of
distinction. The military skill of these foreigners enabled him to
discipline his army and to improve his artillery, so that with an
army of 60,000 warriors he obtained a decisive victory over 100,000
Turks. In this battle, which was fought on the 24th of August
1605, Sir Anthony Shirley was thrice wounded. This victory
gave a decided check to the Turks, who were driven from Azar-
bijan, Georgia, Kurdistan, Baghdad, Mosul, and Diarbekir, all of
which were re-annexed to the Persian empire. This monarch also
entered into an alliance with the English for the destruction of the
flourishing Portuguese settlement of Hurmaz, which unhappily
proved but too successful; and this place, long renowned as the
seat of wealth and a great commercial emporium, was plundered
and left to decay. _ r ^
’Abbas expended his revenues in the improvement of his do¬
minions, and erecting caravanserais, bridges, aqueducts, bazars,
mosques, and colleges; he embellished Isfahan, his capital, built
splendid palaces, the ruins of which still attest his taste and mag¬
nificence. He was also distinguished by his toleration, especially
to Christians; and he was liberal in his foreign policy. To his
family he proved a sanguinary tyrant. He had four sons, whom
he caressed, whilst in infancy, with parental fondness, but who, as
they arrived at manhood, were viewed with jealousy and hatred.
The oldest son was assassinated, and the eyes of his other children
were put out, by his orders. One of these, Khudabandah, had a
daughter, Fatimah, innocent and lovely, and the delight of her
grandfather, who could not endure that she should be out of his
sight. The prince, learning the fondness of his father for this his
child, seized her one day with all the fury of a maniac, and de¬
prived her of life. The rage and despair into which ’Abbas was
thrown by the death of his grand-daughter gave a momentary joy
to the son, who concluded this bloody tragedy by swallowing poison.
’Abbas died soon afterwards, in 1628, at the age of seventy, worn
out with affliction of mind. __
By the desire of the expiring prince, Sam Mirza, one of the sons
of Safi, who had been murdered, was placed on the throne, which
he occupied fourteen years. His son ’Abbas II. succeeded him at
the age of ten, and reigned prosperously twenty-five years, though
his habits were licentious and intemperate. He was succeeded by
his eldest son ’Abbas in the year 1641, who, under the title of
Shah Sulaiman, reigned twenty-nine years. He was, like his
father, the slave of dissolute habits ; and his drunken orgies were
often stained with blood. He was succeeded by Husain Mirza, a
weak prince, who was ruled by eunuchs and priests, and whose
measures tended to destroy the little spirit which yet lingered
amongst the nobles and chiefs. The first twenty years of his reign
passed over in tranquillity, but it was only the prelude to a politi¬
cal storm. The Afghan tribes who inhabit the mountainous tract
between Khurasan and the Indus had long been subject to Persia,
and having often suffered great oppression, at length broke out
into rebellion, irritated by the tyranny of Gurjin Khan. The in¬
surgents were headed by Mir Vaiz, an Afghan chief. They in¬
vited the obnoxious governor Gurjin Khan to a feast, where he
was suddenly attacked and put to death ; and Mir Vaiz, collecting
his followers, surprised and stormed the fortress of Kandahar. He
then proceeded to strengthen himself in his newly-usurped power.
Whilst the weak monarch endeavoured by negotiation to pacify
this formidable insurgent, Mir Vaiz imprisoned his ambassabor,
and set his power at defiance ; and a second ambassador met with
no better treatment. The court of Persia now assembled an army
under the command of Khusrau Khan, who advanced against Mir
Vaiz, defeated his army, and laid siege to Kandahar. The insur¬
gent chief having assembled another army, compelled the Persian V
general to raise the siege of that place, and afterwards defeated
him in a decisive action, in which he was slain. In the midst of
his successes Mir Vaiz died, and was succeeded by his brother Mir
Abdullah, who was assassinated by Mahmud, son of Mir Vaiz. The
troubles which now afflicted Persia on every side gave ample
leisure to Mahmud to mature his plans, and to consolidate his
power. The Uzbaks were ravaging Khurasan ; the tribes of Kur¬
distan were almost at the gates of Isfahan ; the Abdali Afghans
had taken Hirat, and afterwards Mashhad ; the islands in the Per¬
sian Gulf had been subdued by the Arabian governor of Maskat;
and the rude tribes of Georgia had attacked Shirwan. A predic¬
tion by an astrologer, of the total destruction of the capital by an
earthquake, completed the public dismay, when intelligence was
received that Mahmud Ghilzy had entered the country at the head
of 25,000 Afghans. He was met by the royal army of 50,000
troops ; and an action took place, which ended entirely in favour
of the Afghans. The consequence was, the siege or blockade of
Isfahan, which, after enduring all the miseries of famine, surren¬
dered on the 21st of October 1722, after a siege of seven months.
The following day the fallen monarch of Persia, Husain, took a
solemn leave of his subjects, and signed a capitulation, by which
he resigned the crown to Mahmud. Husain, with his nobles, after
doing homage to the Afghan sovereign, was confined for seven years
in a small palace, when his enemies, threatened with a reverse of
fortune, caused him to be assassinated; and in his person may be
said to have terminated the Safavean dynasty, as his son, Tamasp,
though he assumed the title of king, never possessed any real power,
and only struggled a few years against his inevitable tate..
Mahmud having thus succeeded in acquiring the sovereignty Oi
Persia, now endeavoured to conciliate the people whom he had
subdued. But the Persians hated the Afghan yoke ; and, as they
recovered from their first dismay, they began to attack and cut ott
scattered parties of the invaders. At the same time Persia was in¬
vaded both by Russian and Turkish armies. The Russian army
advanced into the country and took possession of Darband, and the
Turkish army was already on its march to Hamadan, w en e in
habitants of Kazvin rose in insurrection, and expelled the Afgha
garrison from the place. Mahmud was now seriously alarmed.
The probable revolt of the capital seemed to be the jn°st41"(imed.1^
danger; and his gloomy mind, alarmed and enraged by these si^
of vengeance, conceived the horrible design of exterminating the
conquered people. He commenced with the ma®sacrelv°^rp®
hundred nobles and their children, who were trencherously invited
to a feast. He afterwards put to death three thousan o
king’s guards, whom he had taken into his P^T > an . ^
every pfrson who had been in the service of bhah Husain ^as -
eluded in one bloody proscription, and put to death without
439
Persia.
“After this, Mahmud, being aided by the Kurdish tf^s, ^eeded
in making himself master of some of the pr>nclPal " hi* ting-
and Farsf But his affairs appeared to beon the dedme , hm king^
dom was threatened from various points, and P
last unequal ^ the d^uWes with ^ch be w« ^ • g
nights, fasting and enduring the sev®ref’ j ,. reaSon and fell into
influence of this gloomy fana^”> e l In this melancholy situa-
the most furious paroxysms of madness. di ted bim to be
tion his mother, out of compMs.o^to h.m, duec^^ ^ ^
smothered. But this event d g ^ blood haci suffered an
orders, thirty-nine princes of^thOd^ofo^®^"! of Mlr Ab.
untimely death. He was d yfi t iod 0f Ashraf’s reign
du’llah.andnephewof Mir Vaiz. inen i^ ^ the Turki8h
was successful. He gal|ie ^P^.^ . and he concluded the war
armies, who were compeUd ^ a’knowledge his title to the
by compelling the^Turki^ ^ another quarter by more
throne. But ne was no Husain, and the repre-
serious dangers. Tamasp, e was in Mazandarun, where he
sentative of the Sala. p 'Nodir Kuli a well-known
„as Me resolutiorf to “el every Afghan
r^mTeloU of Persia. Tamasp, from the day of his father s ab-
dicatiotg he ^ssumed^-oyiil state, and^ntor that he was supported
^"f authority of a sove-
f ^ N ulir beine invested with the sole command, soon suc¬
ceeded in reducing Mashhad and Hirat, and at length all Khurasan,
the authority of Tamasp. Ashraf now prepared for the de-
Zceofhis soveSgn authority; and having raised an army, he
advanced into Khurasan against his enemy, whose followers, he
knew were daily increasing. The Afghans were defeated in a
series’of sanguinary actions, and pursued, first to Tehran, and final }
440
PERSIA.
Persia.
to the gates of Isfahan. It was at first proclaimed in the city that
the Afghans had obtained the victory; but the loud wailings of the
women from the citadel soon disclosed the result of the battle. The
night was passed in preparations for flight. The old men, women,
and children, were mounted on mules and camels, and having
packed up all the treasure and spoil which they could carry away,
they took the route to Shiraz by break of day ; the tyraut Ashraf
having in the meantime cruelly murdered Shah Husain, who was
still detained a prisoner, and the pressure of circumstances only
preventing a general massacre, which was fully intended. Nadir
lost no time in pursuing the discouraged and flying Afghans. They
were overtaken at Persepolis, and immediately fled towards Shiraz,
where, though they were still 20,000 strong, they were deserted by
their leader, who fled homewards with only two hundred followers.
The army was dispersed in wandering bands, which were closely
pursued and cut down by their exasperated foes ; and Ashraf him¬
self, whilst wandering in Sistan, was recognised and slain by Ab¬
dullah Khan, a soldier of Biluchistan, who sent his head, with a
large diamond which he found on his person, to Shah Tamasp. The
Afghan invasion was one of the most cruel calamities which ever
befel the Persians. Within the short period of seven years they
had massacred nearly a million of the inhabitants, laid waste the
finest provinces of the country, and levelled the proudest edifices
with the dust.
Nadir Kuli, afterwards known as Nadir Shah, was born in the
province of Khurasan, on the 11th of November 1688. His father
was in a low condition, earning a livelihood by making coats and
caps of sheep-skins. He was taken prisoner by the Uzbaks at the
age of seventeen, but made his escape from them after a captivity
of four years. lie was for a considerable period the chief of a
band of robbers ; and being a plunderer of known valour and
resolution, had collected 3000 followers, by whose aid he laid under
contribution the extensive province of Khurasan. His friendship
was now courted by his uncle, who was the chief of Kelat. Nadir
pretended to listen to his overtures, but treacherously slew him
with his own hands, and proceeded to employ the power which he
had thus acquired against the Afghans, the enemies of his country.
And so well did he succeed in this popular and patriotic enterprise,
that the Afghans were entirely expelled from the country ; whilst,
for his services, he received from his sovereign, Tamasp, the pro¬
vinces of Khurasan, Mazandarun, Sistan, and Karman. He then
proceeded to attack the Turks, who still occupied the western pro¬
vinces of ’Irak and Azarbijan, and having defeated them in various
actions, took possession of Tabriz, Ardebil, and all the principal
cities. He returned to quell an alarming insurrection of the Afghans,
who were unable to withstand his victorious armies; and in the
meantime the imbecile Tamasp commenced a war with the Turks,
which ended in a disgraceful peace. He had for some time been
a mere pageant in the hands of Nadir ; and this unfortunate war,
with other complaints against him, furnished a plausible pretence
for his dethronement, which took place on the 16th of August 1732.
He retired to Khurasan, where he was afterwards put to death by
lliza Kuli, the son of Nadir, with the knowledge, if not by the
secret orders, of the father. His son, an infant eight months old,
was seated on the throne ; but Nadir was now in substance, as he
was soon to be in form, the real sovereign. In 1736 the death of
this infant removed the only obstacle to his ambition; and in a
vast assembly of his nobles and troops, he was, after much pre¬
tended reluctance, prevailed on to accept of the crown. This high
dignity served only to give a fresh stimulus to his active and
enterprising habits. In the course of a new war with the Turks,
after having regained the provinces which had been wrested from
the imbecileTamafep, and concluded a peace, he turned his arms east¬
ward. Kandahar and Balkh were besieged and taken by his son
Riza Kuli, who passed the Oxus, and defeated the ruler of Buk¬
hara and the Uzbaks. Afghanistan was afterwards subdued ; and
Nadir finally completed his military glory by the conquest of Delhi.
A single battle was sufficient to disperse the Mughul host; and
Nadir, with his triumphant legions, entered the capital, which
made no resistance. Its treasures were plundered; and its inha¬
bitants, who rose on the Persian soldiery, were, in revenge, given
over to an indiscriminate massacre, in which neither age nor sex
was spared. Nadir returned in triumph, loaded with the spoils of
one of the richest capitals of the East. He continued to prosecute
his conquests on every side, and restored the ancient glory of the
Persian empire, when it extended from the chain of the Caucasus
eastward to the Indus.
But the glory of foreign conquest was tarnished by domestic
tyranny. In an expedition against the Lesghis, a mountain tribe
upon the western frontier, Nadir was wounded by an assassin, who
fired on him from a wood. His suspicion fell on his son Riza
Kuli, or had been instilled into his mind by artful intriguers.
Under this impression he commanded his son into his presence,
and immediately caused him to be deprived of his eyesight, Bat
so struck was he with remorse after the deed had been done, that Persia,
he vented his fury upon all around him ; and fifty noblemen were y,
put to death by his orders, because they had not come forward to
sacrifice their lives for the young prince, the hope of his country.
“ It is not my eyes,” says the prince, “ that you have put out, but
those of Persia.” The mind of Nadir was deeply affected; he be¬
came gloomy and ferocious; all his future actions were deeds of
horror; and he exceeded in barbarity all that has ever been re¬
corded of the most bloody tyrants. The country languished under
his extortions ; and when he at last raised the people to insurrec¬
tion, his fury knew no bounds, and he not only murdered indi¬
viduals, but gave up whole cities to the destroying sword. Several
of the principal officers of his court, learning that their names were
in a proscribed list, resolved to anticipate the vengeance of the
tyrant. The execution of the plot was committed to four chiefs
who were employed about the palace, and who, on the pretext of
business, rushed past the guards in the inner tents, and found the
tyrant asleep. He was awakened by the noise, and had slain two
of the conspirators, when he was deprived of life by a blow from
Salah Beg, the captain of the guards.
The sudden death of Nadir Shah involved the country in the
greatest distraction. He was succeeded by his nephew ’Ali, who
took the name of Adil Shah. But his reign was short and inglo¬
rious. He was taken prisoner by his brother Ibrahim Khan, and
put to death at Mashhad, as his captor himself also was, being slain
by the officer who guarded him. Shah Rukh, the grandson of
Nadir, succeeded ; but the throne was ere long usurped by Mlrza
Saiyld Muhammad, by whom Shah Rukh was taken prisoner and
deprived of sight. The usurper being defeated and taken prisoner
by Yusuf ’All, the principal general of Shah Rukh’s army, was
immediately put to death. The blind Shah Rukh was again raised
to the throne; but the measures of his general, Yusuf’All were
opposed by two chiefs, the respective heads of a Kurdish and an
Arabian tribe, and, by their joint efforts, the faithful general of
Shah Rukh was defeated and slain, and he himself again sent from
a throne to a prison. The two chiefs, however, soon quarrelled;
and Mir "Alam, the Arabian, triumphed, but only to fall before the
rising power of the Afghans under Ahmad Khan 'Abdali. This
leader might at the time have easily accomplished the reduction of
Persia. But judging more wisely, he assembled the principal
chiefs, and proposed to them that the province which gave birth to
Nadir should be given as a principality to his grandson. To this
all the chiefs agreed, and Shah Rukh was again established in the
undisturbed possession of Khurasan. At this period Persia was in
a complete state of distraction, from the contentions of rival chiefs.
Muhammad Husain Khan, chief of the tribe of Kajars, had estab¬
lished himself at Astarabad, and had brought under his authority
the whole province of Mazandarun. The province of Azarbijan
was under the rule of Azad Khan, an Afghan leader, who had been
one of the generals of Nadir Shah. Gllan was independent, under
one of its own chiefs, Hidayat Khan. At this time ’All Mar dan
Khan, a chief of the tribe Bakhtiyarl, took possession of Isfahan,
and, resolving to elevate a prince of the house of Safi to the throne,
he invited the nobles to join his standard. The principal of those
chiefs was Karim Khan, of the tribe of Zand, a man distinguished
by his sagacity and courage, and between whom and ’All Mardan
Khan a rivalship for power soon took place. Karim Khan, dread¬
ing the enmity of ’All Mardan, took the field against him. But
his assassination soon afterwards left Karim undisputed master of
the south of Persia. He was joined by most of the tribes from that
country, and being at war with Azad Khan, he was entirely de¬
feated by him in a general action, and so discouraged by the unpro¬
mising state of his affairs that he meditated a retreat into India.
But he was dissuaded from so unworthy a course by the remon¬
strances of his general Rustam Sultan, the chief of Khisht, who
attacked the enemy in a narrow pass, and obtaining a complete
victory, re-established the power of Karim Khan, who again occu¬
pied the city of Shiraz, where he employed his utmost efforts to
recruit his army. Azad Khan, throwing himself on the clemency
of his conqueror, was received into his service, and became one of
his most attached followers. The most powerful enemy of Karim
Khan was Muhammad Husain Khan, the chief of the Kajars, who
ruled in Mazandarun. He advanced against Shiraz with a power¬
ful force; but the city being bravely defended, he was compelled
to raise the siege, and to retreat to Isfahan. He afterwards en¬
gaged Karim in a general action, in which, being deserted by part
of his troops, he was defeated and slain. The whole province of
Mazandarun then submitted to the conqueror, and this was fol¬
lowed by the submission of Gllan and the greater part of Azarbijan.
Khurasan was the only province which he did not subdue ; and his
forbearance is ascribed to compassion for the blind Shah Rukh,
who still retained this remnant of his extensive dominions.
Karim Khan was distinguished by a love of justice and a mo¬
deration not usual amongst eastern princes, He died in the year
PERSIA.
441
Persia. l779> in the eightieth year of his aSe> after a reiSn of twenty-six
’ j years. His administration was generally just and beneficent.
^ He encouraged agriculture and commerce, which.greatly revived
during the latter years of his reign ; and he protected by his jus¬
tice Christians as well as Muhammadans. He never refused mercy
to a fallen foe, though he sometimes punished severely, that he
might strike terror into his enemies. The humane disposition of
this prince prompted him to acts of mercy; and the generous con'
fidence with which he treated those whom he forgave never failed
to attach them to his person.
After the death of Karim Khan, the succession to the crown was,
as usual, disputed, and in the course of these contests his four sons
either perished under the daggers 'of assassins, or were sacrificed
in the intrigues of ambitious chiefs contending for the crown.
Zaki Khan, the moment his father died, assumed the reins of go¬
vernment; whilst Sadak Khan at the same time evacuated Basrah,
and advanced towards Shiraz. But he was unable to contend against
Zaki, and was soon forced to retire. In the meantime, Agha
Muhammad Khan Kajar, who had been detained prisoner at Shiraz,
and who was duly apprised by his sister, an inmate of the royal
harem, of the progress of Karim Khan's illness, and at last of his
death,’contrived to escape to Mazandarun, where he proclaimed
himself a competitor for the throne. The cruelties of Zaki, who had
treacherously murdered a number of his rebellious nobles, alter
pledging his faith for their safety, soon provoked revenge, and he
himself was put to death at Yezdikhast. Abu 1 Fath Khan was
proclaimed king of Persia the moment Zaki Khan was put to death.
Sadak Khan hastened from Karman to Shiraz when he heard
of the assassination of Zaki and proclaimed himself king, ar¬
resting the person of Abu 1 Fath Khan, and causing his eyres to be
put out. He was besieged in his capital by his nephew ’All Murad
Khan, his most formidable enemy, and, being obliged to surrender,
he was put to death, with most of his sons. ’All Murad was, in his
turn, put down by another rival; and J afar Khan, nephew of Karim,
and Agha Muhammad, were at length the only rivals left to con¬
tend for the crown. The former having disgusted one of his chief
supporters, Haji ’All Kull, he engaged in a conspiracy against him ;
and having put poison in his victuals, he and others rushed into
his chamber when he was writhing under its effects, and put a pe¬
riod to his existence. He was succeeded by Lutf ’All Khan, who
was one of the most remarkable characters recorded in the Persian
annals. His appearance was greatly in his favour : his fine coun¬
tenance full of animated expression; his form tall and graceful,
and, though slender, active and strong. He was at Karman when
he heard of his father’s murder, which took place in the year 1789;
and though Saiyid Murad Khan was at first proclaimed king by the
conspirators, yet, by the aid of Haji Ibrahim, appointed by his
father the first magistrate of the province of Fars, he was soon en¬
abled to assert his claim to the crown. He was bold in counsel and
fearless in action, and maintained a long and well-sustained strug¬
gle for the sovereignty, in the course of which he performed prodi¬
gies of valour. But he wanted prudence and temper, and had no
control over his passions. Unbending in his pride, and harsh and
unconciliating in his manners, he employed terror as the chief
source of his influence. His great error was in quarrelling with
and disgusting his faithful minister Haji Ibrahim, a statesman of
consummate prudence and talents, who abandoned his service for
that of his rival and enemy, Agha Muhammad Khan, and was ever
afterwards his most formidable enemy A Uutf ’All maintained the
contest for six years; but he was at length overwhelmed by the
superior forces of his enemy. Flying from Persia, he was treacher¬
ously seized, after a brave resistance, in which he was seriously
wounded, and being delivered into the hands of Agha Muhammad
Khan, was treated with a brutality of insult which is too shocking
to be described, and which, Sir John Malcolm adds, disgraced human
nature. His eyes were torn out, and he was sent to languish out
a miserable existence in Tehran, where an order was soon after¬
wards sent for his execution. Lutf ’All terminated his extraordi¬
nary career in 1795, in the twenty-fifth year of his age. Nor was
Agha Muhammad’s cruel treatment of the inhabitants of Karman
less shocking. This place was the last stronghold of Luft ’AH. It
was defended by him with his usual bravery, and being at length
taken by treachery, became the scene of the most dreadful atroci¬
ties. The place was almost depopulated. Many women and child¬
ren, to the number of 20,000, were carried into slavery. The men
were murdered, and numbers were deprived of sight, many of whom
were afterwards seen by Sir John Malcolm begging their bread.
Lutf ’AH was the last of the Zand family of princes, who had
ruled over Persia for nearly half a century.
Agha, Muhammad Khan having now firmly established himself
upon the throne of Persia, his first care was to restore order through¬
out his dominions, and to repel foreign aggression. Having tran- k
quillized the southern and central provinces, he invaded Armenia
and Karabag, and, marching straight to Teflis, he defeatedHeraclius,
prince of Georgia ; and having taken the city, he sacked it, and made
a dreadful slaughter of the inhabitants, carrying into slavery 20,000
women and children. He then turned his arms eastward, subdued
Khurasan, and repressed the incursions of the pillaging Turka-
mans in the vicinity of Astarabad, as well as of the Uzbaks in
Bukharia. But however rigorous his administration, and however
active in the field, all his exploits were stained with cruelties. His
avarice was unbounded ; and he scrupled at no atrocity to gratify
it. He had long thirsted after the jewels of which Nadir Shah had
despoiled India, and these he wrested without remorse from their
unfortunate possessors. From the aged and blind Shah Rukh he
extorted, by the severest tortures, several of those which were the
most precious, particularly a ruby which had belonged to Aurang-
zlb, and which was of extraordinary size and value. This pre¬
cious jewel was retained to the last, until boiling lead had been
poured upon the head of the unhappy prince, when, in his intoler¬
able agony, he declared where it was hidden. He was afterwards
conveyed to Damghan in Khurasan, were he died in a few days, in
the sixty-third year of his age, in consequence of the tortures to
which he had been subjected.
Agha Muhammad Khan succeeded in tranquillizing the country,
partly by policy, and still more by terror. He often spared his
enemies, and conciliated them, not however from any feelings of
humanity, but from a sense of his own interest; for his disposition
was stern, cruel, and vindictive, and his reign presents a series of
atrocities scarcely equalled in the bloody annals of the East.
’AH Khan, a chief of the Afshar tribe, had opposed Agha
Muhammad in the field. He was decoyed into his power by the
deepest treachery, and being arrested amidst fawning and caresses,
his eyes were put out. The brave and generous Jafar Kuli, his
own brother, was in like manner seduced, by the kindest assur¬
ances, to visit the court of Tehran, where, after being welcomed
with every appearance of cordiality, he was cruelly assassinated.
This act stamps upon Agha Muhammad the character of a re¬
morseless tyrant. In truth, a temper naturally cruel had been
still more soured by cruelties he had himself undergone in his
^ Agha Muhammad being apprised of the invasion of Persia by Rus¬
sia, sent his army to defend the frontier; but the death of the
Empress Catharine relieved Persia from the serious danger with
which it was threatened. Agha Muhammad then determined to
move towards Georgia; and having received a friendly deputation
from the inhabitants of Shishah, he proceeded with some light
troops, and took possession of this important fortress, fhree days
afterwards, a dispute having occurred between a Georgian slave, a
personal attendant on the monarch, and another servant, respecting
some money that was missing, the king, enraged at the noise which
they made, directed that they should both be put to death. Sa
Khln Shekakl, a nobleman of the highest rank, solicited their par¬
don, which was refused; but as it was th® n,Sht °.f ^rladnady’*Hh a
to prayer their lives were spared till next morning, and, with a
singular^nftituatioii, the de^ot P*™1'**5 them *o perform <he.r
usual services about his person. Despair gave them courage , and
usual sei viiA-B a tv,pV pntered his tent, accompanied
7* yir„”V or Siy . small ^ion of that time.
A.ha MuhLmad was in person so slender that he appeared like
i\gnci muiianime* x beardless and shri-
a youth of fourteen or Tripled »om.n 1 it -as at
So timerepTe”'s.lt or agreeablejnd rvhen clouded with indignation
no time pieasa 0 horrible He was so sensible of
as it often was, !*s^beaS any one to lw)k at him. He was harsh
this tl,ath<,““ „ ,/m, ministers and to his domestics.
and abrupt, and often cruel wn_^ treated with unbounded
confidenTe1’ Th^penetration of the monarch,” says Sir J. Mal¬
colm ‘‘discovered at once the talents of that extraordinary man
C°um’ i • nuca nf manner blunt speech, manly fortitude, and
" tnnishin^knowledge of public affairs, led Agha Muhammad to
g rSis enrir:tnfidePnce,and no confidence was ever better
rewarded. The minister, though he contrived to gratify the ava¬
rice of his master, and to promote his ambition, often obtained
favour for others through the kindness of his disposition, whenever
he could interfere without danger to himself.
By the influence and wise management of Haji Ibrahim, the
Persia.
, . . , „ . t ,, n^pount of all the transactions of Lutf ’AH’s reign. Sir John was
1 See, in Sir John Malcolm’s excellent History of Persia, a lull ac ^ ^ reason for taking part with Muhammad Khan was to
personally acquainted with Haji Ibrahim, who informed him that ^is pr°^fflicted> (Vol. ii., chap, xix., p. 183.)
save his country from the continual petty wars with which it had Deen 0 ^ ^
VOL. XVII.
442
PERSIA.
Persia.
crown was secured to the nephew of the deceased monarch, who as¬
sumed the sovereignty under the title of Fath ’All Shah. Saadak
Khan made a feehle effort to oppose him, hut was attacked and de¬
feated. Two other attempts to usurp the crown, the one made by
the king’s brother Husain KuK Khan, and the other by Muham¬
mad Khan, a prince of the Zand family, were subdued ; and since
this period the internal tranquillity of the country has not been dis¬
turbed. The most important events in the reign of Fath ’All were
connected with the wars which he entered into with Russia, and
which generally proved unfavourable to Persia. In 1800 Georgia
finally submitted to the dominion of Russia ; and in 1803 Mingre-
lia was subdued. Gunjah was taken ; and although the invaders
were forced to raise the siege of Erivan, they overran Daghistan
and Shirwan ; and in 1805 Karabag yielded to their victorious
arms. The interference of Great Britain arrested the progress of
Russian conquest; and Persia was saved from further inroads by
the treaty of Gulistan, concluded in October 1813, which fixed the
relative boundaries so indefinitely, as, after much tedious negotia¬
tion, to give rise to a new war. In this war, which commenced
in the month of July 1826, ’Abbas Mlrza, the prince royal of
Persia, took the field, with 40,000 men, 12,000 of whom were re¬
gulars ; and at the outset he gained several important advantages.
But the superior discipline of the Russian armies, trained in the
wars of Europe, triumphed in the end ; and in 1828, seeing no
prospect of maintaining the war with success, peace was again
sought for through the mediation of Great Britain. It was con¬
cluded on the 21st of February at Turkamanchai. Besides large
cessions of territory,—namely, the Khanat of Erivan, and that of
Nakhshivan, and the greater part of Talish, including all the
islands which fall within its direction,—Persia agreed to pay
5,000,000 of tumans, as an indemnification for the expenses of the
war. Since this treaty the peace of the two countries has not been
disturbed; and the prince royal, turning his attention to the in¬
ternal concerns of his kingdom, has succeeded in reducing the re¬
bellious chiefs of Khurasan. By the aid of a Polish refugee, equally
skilful and brave, he acquired possession of Yeza, took Turshish
and Khabushan by storm, and reduced to obedience all the other
chiefs in that quarter.
Fath ’All Shah was about forty years old when he succeeded his
uncle Agha Muhammad on the throne. He reigned nearly thirty-
eight years, and died in October 1834. With the exception of his
wars with Russia, the tranquillity of his long reign was almost un¬
disturbed. By the treaty of Turkaman Chai in 1828, the Russian
frontier had been advanced to Mount Ararat, and thence to the
left bank of the Aras. This acquisition was regarded by Russia
as only a step to further advances ; and as soon as Muhammad Shah,
the eldest son of ’Abbas Mlza, had been securely settled on the
throne of his grandfather, Fath ’Ali, the Russian minister at Teh¬
ran, commenced a series of intrigues to induce the new shah to ad¬
vance against Hlrat. As the shah had been placed on the throne
by the aid of English arms and influence, in opposition to the
efforts of his numerous uncles and nephews, this movement, so
contrary to the interests of the British, was a piece of base in¬
gratitude. The shah was fully aware how displeasing any at¬
tempt upon Hlrat would be to the English government; for in
1832 Fath ’All had been induced by the English envoy to abandon
Hlrat lasted ten months, and the defence was one of the most me- Persia,
morable in history. The sufferings of the inhabitants were dread- v |
ful; and the population was reduced from TO.OOO1 to about one-tenth
of that number. But every assault was repulsed, chiefly through
the courage and skill of Lieutenant Eldred Pottinger, an officer of
the East India Company’s artillery. At the same time the Anglo-
Indian government, to counteract the designs of Persia, despatched
an armament to occupy the island of Kharg in the Persian Gulf,
and concluded a treaty with Shah Shuja’a and Ranjlt Singh to de¬
pose the Barakzy chiefs, Kohandil and Dost Muhammad, and place
Shah Shuja’a, the ally of the British, on the throne of Kabul. This
treaty was signed on the 26th of June 1838 ; and the whole of Af¬
ghanistan was shortly after occupied by British troops. These ope¬
rations, and the determined defence of Hlrat completely overthrew
the ambitious designs of the shah. He returned to Tehran, and the
Russian government hastened to disavow all intentions hostile to
the British. In 1839 a Russian army of 15,000 men marched from
Orenburg, under General Peroffski, against Khiva. It had been
collected in anticipation of the shah’s success at Hlrat, but it
failed against Khiva no less signally than the shah had done in the
other direction ; and the greater part of the troops perished in the
snow. In 1841, immediately after the destruction of the English
army at Kabul was known, the Russians again commenced their
ambitious movements on the side of Persia. They established a
naval station at Ashurada, an island in the Gulf of Astarabad, about
12 miles from the coast, and established a complete supremacy in
the Caspian, in which sea they are now supposed to have four or
five steamers, and several brigs and schooners of war.
Muhammad Shah died in August 1848 at Tehran, and was suc¬
ceeded by his eldest son, Nasiru’d-dln, the present shah. Colonel
Farrant, an English officer serving in Persia, was the main instru¬
ment in securing the quiet accession of the new king, and held
the capital for him till he arrived from Azarbijan, of which pro¬
vince he was governor. Friendly relations had been renewed be¬
tween the English and Persian governments; but the subject^ of
Hlrat had not been lost sight of by the court of Tehran. Shah Kam-
ran had been murdered by his vazlr, Yar Muhammad Khan, and
this wily chief had long before engrossed the chief power in that
principality. His policy was to maintain independence, while he
soothed the shah by courtesies which cost him little. But in 1851
Yar Muhammad died; and his son Saiyld Muhammad, less con¬
fident of his position, sent envoys to Tehran offering to become
the subject of Persia. In response to these offers, a Persian force
was prepared under Sultan Murad Mlrza, the governor of Khu¬
rasan, nominally against the Turkamans, but in reality for the
occupation of Hlrat. Colonel Shell, the British envoy, at once
remonstrated against this expedition ; and on August the 7th, 1851,
distinctly announced to the Amir Nizam, or prime minister, that
a perseverance in the proposed course would bring on a rupture
with Great Britain. After a long correspondence, the Persian
government, on the 25th of January 1853, signed an agreement
not to send troops to Hltat until that place should be attacked by
a foreign force. New difficulties, however, soon arose. In 1854
Mr Thomson, in charge of British affairs, appointed Mlrza Hashem
to be first Persian secretary of the mission, an appointment so ob¬
noxious to the shah that the Persian government declined to
an expedition against that city, in spite of the encouragement of receive the mlrza, and, on his destination being changed to Shli az,
* . . , ^ z-   Ur'itiaVi minister, that
the Russians, who even sent Baron Ache, an officer of engineers,
to accompany it. In the winter of 1835, however, Muhammad
Shah announced his intention to march against Hliat in the spring;
and Mr Ellis, the English ambassador, used every effort to dissuade
him, and to compose the differences between the shah and the ruler
of Hlrat, Prince Kamran. Nevertheless, the shah persevered in his
intention, and marched, accompanied by the Russian minister, in
August 1836; but having attacked the Turkamans on his way,
his army was so much harassed by them as to be obliged to return
towards Persia in October of the same year. About this time Sii
John M-Neill had replaced Mr Ellis at the court of Tehran, and
continued to remonstrate with the shah on the subject of Ilirat.
On the 23d of July 1837, however, the shah marched again against
Hlrat; and on the 10th of October Captain Vicovich. a secret agent
of the Czar, joined the Persian camp, and proceeded thence to
Kandahar and Kabul, announcing that a Russian force had arrived
at Astarabad to co-operate with the shah. This report had such
an effect upon the Afghans, that it was thought requisite to recall
the British agents, Major Leech from Kandahar, and Captain A.
Burnes from Kabul. Kohandi] Khan, the ruler of Kandahar, now
bound himself by treaty to become the subject of Persia, and the
Russian minister, Count Simonich, took the command of the Per¬
sian troops in the trenches before Hlrat, and a regiment of Russian
deserters were allowed to take part in the assault. The siege of
notified to Mr Murray, who was now the British minister, that
should the mlrza set out for his post, he would be seized, and
forcibly detained. This notice was given on the 6th of November
1855, and immediately afterwards the mlrza's wife was seized by
order of the Persian minister. On the 17th Mr Murray officially
intimated, that unless the lady was released, the flag of the mission
would be hauled down, and friendly relations would cease; and as
this menace produced no effect, the flag was struck on the 20th of
November, and on the 5th of December the mission withdrew from
Tehran. The Persian government then published a justification of
its conduct, which set forth that Mr Murray was carrying on an
intrigue with the wife of Mirza Hashem; and in an autograph note
to his prime minister the shah indulged in the most intemperate
language against Mr Murray, charging him with insolence, and
speaking of him as “ stupid, ignorant, and insane.” In the same
month of December Prince Sultan Murad Mlrza put himself at the
head of 9000 men intended to act against Hirat. It must be ad¬
mitted that there was some colour for this expedition, as a tribute
had be6n guaranteed to the shah from the city, and, further, Prince
Muhammad Yusuf, the son of Kamran, who, after putting Saiyld
Muhammad to death, had recovered his heritage, had applied to
Persia for aid, alleging that he was threatened with an attack by
Dost Muhammad of Kabul. On the 27th of February 1856 the
Persian government, doubtless encouraged by the Russian successes
1 Ferrier’s Caravan Journeys, p. 171.
PER
PER
443
Persian
Gulf.
at Kars in November of the preceding year, published their reasons
for this offensive movement. After futile negotiations between
the Persian envoy at Constantinople and Lord Stratford de Red-
cliffe, instructions were sent out by the mail of the 20th of Sep¬
tember 1856, by Lord Clarendon to the governor-general of India,
to prepare a force at Bombay for the occupation of Kharg. In the
meantime, the Persian army under Sultan Murad had defeated
the Hirat forces near Ghorian, taking their general, Ahmad Khan,
and several hundred men, prisoners; and having captured and
garrisoned Ghorian, after a twenty days’ siege, were closely be¬
sieging Hirat itself. On the 29th of April 1856 Prince Muham¬
mad Yusuf was sent in as a prisoner-into the Persian camp by his
vazlr, ’Isa Khan. On the 26th of October 1856 Hirat was sur¬
rendered to the Persians, and its occupation was publicly noti¬
fied at Tehran on the 6th of November. (Correspondence respecting
Relations with Persia, p. 228.) On the 1st of the same month
the governor-general of India issued a proclamation declaring
war against Persia. On the 11th several ships sailed with troops
from Bombay for the Persian Gulf; and on the 13th Sir H. Leeke,
commanding the naval forces, embarked for the same destination.
On the 26th the whole fleet, consisting of thirty-four sail, assembled
at Kishm; and on the 3d of December the island of Kharg was re¬
occupied; and on the 7th, the army, consisting of two brigades,-—
the first under Brigadier Stopford, C.B., and the second under Co¬
lonel Honner,—disembarked at Halila Bay, twelve miles south-east
of Abushahr (Bushire), the 20th Bombay native infantry, and the
4th Bombay rifles, being the first regiments on shore. On the 9th
the troops advanced to dislodge the enemy from their position near
the fort of llashahr (Reshire). A body of Arabs made a most e-
termined resistance at an earthwork, and the action was not gained
without loss. Brigadier Stopford, Colonel Malet of the 3d cavalry,
and Lieutenants Utterson and Warren of the 20th Bombay native
infantry, were killed; and Captain Wood of that regiment was
wounded ; and thirty-five inferior officers and men were killed or
wounded. On the 10th, after a sharp cannonade of three hours,
Abushahr surrendered, and the British flag was hoisted on its walls
at 5 p.m. of that day. Fifty-eight guns were taken, and several
Persian officers of high rank were made prisoners. In the mean¬
time, a reserve force, consisting of the 14th light dragoons, the
1st Sindh horse, the 4th troop of royal horse artillery, tlW ^
company of the 2d battalion of foot artillery, the 78th High¬
landers, and the 23d and 26th regiments Bombay native infantry,
and a light battalion of ten companies drawn from regiments not
serving with the force, had been assembled at Bombay under Ge-
neral Outram, to whom the command of the whole army was given.
The general and his staff sailed from Bombay on the morning of
the 16th of January 1857 ; and the army was now formed into two
divisions, of which General Stalker commanded the first, and Bri¬
gadier Havelock the second. The reserve reached Abushahr in the
end of January; and on the 3d of February General Outram, with
the 2d European light infantry, the 64th and 78th Highlanders,
the 3d Bombay cavalry, the Punah horse, the 4th Bombay rifles,
and 20th native infantry, the 2d Biluch battalion, and some guns,
marched to dislodge the enemy from an intrenched camp at Buraz-
jun, 48 miles from Abushahr. On the 5th this position was
occupied, after a slight outpost affair, in which Cornet Spens of the
cavalry, and a few troopers, were wounded. A vast quantity of
stores and ammunition were taken in the camp. On the night of
the 7th General Outram commenced his return, after having first
exploded 36,000 pounds of the enemy’s powder, to ignite which
the rifles, with shell bullets invented by General Jacob, were used.
During the darkness of the night the enemy made a sharp attack Persian
on the English column while on the march, in which Captain Gulf.
Madder and Lieutenant Greentree of the 64th were wounded, and
a few men killed and wounded. General Outram met with a severe
accident, his horse falling with him, and rolling over him. At
daylight on the morning of the 8th, the enemy w’ere seen drawn
up in order of battle, with their right resting on the village of
Khush-ab, numbering 6000 infantry and 2000 cavalry, with about
15 guns, under Shuja’au'l-Mulk, reputed the best officer in the
Persian army. After a short but sharp action, this force wms com¬
pletely routed, and fled, leaving 700 men dead on the field, and two
guns in the hands of the English. A regiment of Persian infantry
was in this battle ridden over and cut to pieces by the 3d Bombay
cavalry, whose commanding officer, Captain Forbes, was severely
wounded. The English loss was altogether one officer and eighteen
men killed, and four officers and sixty men wounded. General
Outram regained his quarters at Abushahr by midnight of the 9th.
On the 26th of March, the general having organized a force for the
capture of Muhammarah, a town at the confluence of the Karun
with the Shatu’l ’Arab, where the Persians had thrown up strong
batteries, and had stationed an army of 15,000 men, attacked the
place, and captured it, with the loss of but ten men killed, and one
officer and thirty men wounded. The loss of the enemy was very
severe. On the 29th of March General Outram despatched a light
force to pursue the enemy to Awaz, a town about 100 miles dis¬
tant up the Karun. This force proceeded in the Comet, Planet,
and Assyrian steamers, under Commander Rennie. .On the 1st of
April, the expedition came within sight of the Persian army near
Awaz, but on the right bank of the river, the town being on the
left. Although the Persians amounted to at least 10,000 men, and
the English troops did not exceed 300, such was the terror General
Outram’s victories had inspired, that the instant the English ad¬
vanced on Awaz the Persians deserted the place, and not long
after, a shell falling near their general’s tent, the whole army like¬
wise took to flight. Then was seen the astonishing spectacle of
five heavy masses of infantry, well supplied with artillery, and
2000 horse, among which were the picked men of the Bakhtiyar
tribes, reputed the best cavalry in Persia,—a complete army, in
short,—retiring before a handful of Englishmen, less numerous
than the wing of a single regiment. The vast stores of the Per¬
sians were destroyed or thrown open to the plundering ra s,
and the retreating enemy suffered dreadful distress ere they reacl)®d
Shustar, 100 miles distant, where was their nearest depot. On the
4th of April the expedition returned to Muhammarah; and on the
same day General Outram received the news of the treaty whic
had been concluded at Paris on the 4th of March preceding be¬
tween the English government and the Persian, as represented by
Farrukh Khan, ambassador of the shah. On the 9th of May, General
Outram issued orders for the breaking up of the force under i,
command, and their return to India; and on the J.5th general
velock embarked with his staff for the scene of his more aiduous
la^rhus en^ed^h^PersUm^war ^and^o'severe was the lesson taught
more on a rupture with the English government. It « P°^!
I1'*' “f Hw”™! ”^=^1858*“ commanding in
S^aT'nf J^d,,al
the greater part ol his army oeii g (d. B__N.) (e.B.e.)
his guns taken. ^
PERSIAN GULF, a large inland sea in the S. of Asia,
forming an inlet of the Indian Ocean, and lying between
24. and 30. N. Lat., and between 48. and 57. E. Long.^ Its
form is that of a curve, having the convex side to the SA'V
the northern and north-eastern shores being bounded by
Persia, and the western and southern by Arabia. It is en¬
tered from the ocean by the strait of Ormuz ; and its great¬
est length from N.W. to S.E. is about 560 miles ; its breadth
varies from 40 to 200, but it is on an average about 160 ;
and its entire area is estimated at 70,000 square miles.
There are several islands scattered about in this gulf, which
have an aggregate area of 1400 square miles. The shores
of the Persian Gulf are the most arid and barren that can
possibly be imagined. They generally consist of extensive
sandy expanses, with hardly a blade of grass to relieve the
monotony of the view, and the glare of the sand in the sun.
The climate of the gulf for five months of the year is
extremely hot, almost intolerable; and the thermometer
stands probably "in" sim^ nf the
!'id7a77kbled'by a range of mountains about 3000 feet
g„h from 3 to 30 miles distant from the sea; and though
.i p ’ are numerous small indentations on both coasts, the
^W bay of aTy sise is that of Es-Elwak, on the coast ot
Arabia? The navigation is dangerous, on account of the
ioalsand reefs with which it abounds especially on the
Arabian coast, where large vessels can hardly approach near
the land. The only rivers of any size that fall into the
lulf are the Euphrates and Tigris, which unite to form the
Shat-el-Arab, a river which falls into the north-western
extremity of the gulf, about 70 miles below Bussorah.
The tide's in the Persian Gulf are much lower than those in
the Red Sea; owing partly probably to the influence of
the great rivers Euphrates and Tigris, and partly to the
444 PER
Persius shape of the gulf. The prevailing wind in the gulf is from
Flaccus. fjie N.w. during the greater part of the year ; but in the
^ months of November, December, and January southerly
breezes blow with considerable regularity, especially in the
strait of Ormuz. The currents on the outside of the strait
generally follow the direction of the wind ; but in the gulf
there is one that sets westward along the Persian shore.
The shores of the gulf abound in fish, which, along with
dates, almost the only produce of the surrounding country,
form the chief articles of food to the inhabitants. These
are not, however, sufficient to supply the wants of the people,
and food has to be imported. The most of the inhabitants
derive their means of sustenance from the fisheries of the
pearls, for which this gulf is so famous. On the banks near
the island of Bahrein, on the Arabian coast, these are found
in the most abundance ; but they are obtained in greater
or less quantities throughout the whole of the western and
southern shores. During the month of June, when the
weather is somewhat cool, the fishing is carried on in the
shallow water along the coast; but it is only in the intense
heat which prevails in July, August, and the beginning of
September, that the Bahrein banks, where the water is much
deeper, are frequented, the divers being much inconve¬
nienced when the water is cold. In diving, they have their
nostrils compressed with a small piece of horn, and their
ears stuffed with wax, to keep out the water; and w ith a
net for oysters attached to their waists, a rope which they
hold, and a stone to aid their descent, they go down, and
remain for about two minutes under the water, shaking the
rope when they wish to be drawn up. In favourable wea¬
ther they sometimes dive twelve or fifteen times in a day;
and the work, though exhausting at the time, is not con¬
sidered to be injurious to the constitution. The annual
value of the fisheries at Bahrein alone has been estimated
to be from L.200,000 to L.240,000, though some of the
merchants state it at a much greater sum ; and the value of
the whole pearl trade of the gulf is about L.300,000. The
number of boats at Bahrein, containing generally ten men
each, is about 1500. The larger shells are preserved for the
sake of their lining of mother-of-pearl; but the oysters are
never used for food, even in a country of such scarcity.
The trade of the Persian Gulf, which seems to have been
carried on so early as the time of Alexander, is very consi¬
derable ; the port of Bussorah, on the Shat-el-Arab, and that
of Bushire, on the Persian coast, being the principal inlets
for the produce of India and the East into Turkey and Persia
respectively. The scheme for the steam navigation of the
Euphrates "would, if successful, make this the principal route
to India; but the route by the Red Sea and Egypt, as in
ancient times, presents many advantages over the other.
The Arabian shores of this sea were for a long time in¬
fested with pirates ; but the Jawasimi, the most daring of
these, have been reduced to order by two British expedi¬
tions from Bombay in 1809 and 1819. The principal
islands in the gulf, besides Bahrein, Ormuz, and Kishm,
which are described in separate articles, are,—Busheab,
near the northern shore, containing about 40 square miles,
with a small town and harbour ; Kaes or Kenn, off the same
shore, also containing a small town and harbour; and Karej
or Kharrack, a lofty island, nearly surrounded with reefs. The
whole of the shores of the Persian Gulf, though belonging
partly to Persia, are inhabited by Arabs; who extend on
the N. as far inland as the mountains. Nearly all this
country is subject to the Imam of Muscat, who pays an
annual rent to the Persian monarch.
PERSIUS FLACCUS, Aulus, a celebrated Roman
satirist, was descended from an equestrian family of con¬
siderable eminence in the state, and was born at Volaterrae
in Etruria, in 34 a.d. The little that we know respecting
his personal history is chiefly derived from a slight sketch
commonly but erroneously ascribed to Suetonius. He lost
PER
his father at an early age ; and his mother, Fulvia Sisennia, Person
removed to Rome, that her son might enjoy the best train- ||
ing which the imperial city could furnish. He studied first ^erst°"^"
under the grammarian Rhemmius Palaemon, and the rheto- ^ j
rician Virginius Flavus ; and when he reached his sixteenth
year he was placed in the school of the Stoic philosopher
Annaeus Cornutus, to whom he became passionately attached,
and from whom he imbibed those tenets by which his writings
are characterized. No less indebted was his education to
Paetus Thrasea, whose noble character tended to form his
mind to virtuous habits. His admiration of the Satires of
Lucilius is said to have first turned his attention to the study
of poetry. His character was austere, his mode of life pure
and blameless, and his affection for his friends strong and
unbending. At his death in 62 a.d., he left a considerable
property to his mother and sisters; and his books, which
are said to have consisted of 700 volumes, he bequeathed
to his friend Cornutus. The philosopher recommended
to his mother that she should commit to the flames all his
manuscripts except his Satires. These were accordingly
preserved, and consist of one book, divided, according to
some, into five Satires, and according to others, into six.
These Satires are intended to expound and illustrate some
favourite doctrines of the Stoics. In executing this purpose,
the author is not careful to copy his incidents and exam¬
ples from real life. Describing them according to an ex¬
aggerated representation in his own mind, he strains all his
faculties, and employs every literary art, to make the pic¬
ture correspond to his own ideal conception. Accord¬
ingly his sentences are condensed into the most pithy
and concise forms; his allusions are at once short and
suggestive ; his passion, in its vehemence, often assumes
the rugged and expressive shape of colloquialism ; and his
frequent use of dialogue throws a spirited and life-like effect
over the whole. It would even seem that the edge of his
satire, directed against the vices of Nero’s reign, sometimes
became so keen that it required to be concealed under ob¬
scure phrases. From this description of Persius’ Satires
we can easily see how Lucan, Quintilian, Martial, and others,
who knew the history of the author’s time, were charmed
with their pungency, and how modern students and com¬
mentators who have not that knowledge are perplexed by
their almost impenetrable obscurity. Persius was first
printed at Rome by Ulrich Hahn about 1470. The best
editions are that of Isaac Casaubon, 8vo, Paris, 1605, re¬
printed by Duebner, 8vo, Leipsic, 1839; that of Otto
Jahn, 8vo, Leipsic, 1843 ; and that of Heinrich, 8vo, Leip¬
sic, 1844. There are numerous English translations, both
in prose and poetry. The best poetical versions are those of
Dryden and Gifford. The latest prose translation is that
which forms, along with translations of Juvenal, Sulpicia,
and Lucilius, a volume of Bohn’s “ Classical Library.”
PERSON, Personality. The word person (Latin per¬
sona, “a mask,” derived, according to Gabius Bassos, in Au¬
lus Gellius, v. 7, from persona, “ to sound through”), from
being originally applied to a player’s mask, came to signify
the individual wearing it. Again, as one individual is dis¬
tinguished from another more by the internal character
than by the external traits of his nature, the term suffered
a further transference of meaning, in being used in a sense
synonymous with man, who is an intelligent, free, and re¬
sponsible being. Person in this sense is distinguished from
thing. Deity, considered as a creative cause and govern¬
ing intelligence distinct from the universe, is a person.
Personality is the idea of a person carried to its highest de¬
gree of generality. The essence of personality is generally
supposed by philosophers to reside in the will.
PERSONIFICATION, or Prosopopoeia, is, in rheto¬
ric and composition, a species of metaphor, in which the
highest degree of energy is produced by representing in¬
animate objects as endued with life and action.
445
perspective.
Proiection PERSPECTIVE, or Perspective Drawing, is the art of repre-
of Points, senting solid bodies by means of pictures traced upon a
surface. This surface is usually, though not necessarily,
flat, and is most commonly placed upright.
The principle of the art is very simple, being founded on
the fact that light moves in straight lines. If a transpa¬
rent plate were placed between the eye and the object to
be represented, and if the various points at which the light
passes through were noticed, these would indicate the foim
of the picture, and if proper colours were laid on these,
would produce upon the eye nearly the same effect which the
object did, and would be a perspective picture of that object.
Such a picture, however, though accurately drawn, and
thou<>ii coloured quite in accordance with nature, can never
produce on the eye exactly the same effect which the object
itself does. The adjustment of the eye to distinct vision is
not the same in both; and, in truth, the light which comes from
any point in the object is not a mere line, but a conical
pencil, having the aperture of the pupil for its base. Hence,
however skilfully finished, a picture is always recognised as
The various contrivances which were used for enabling
the painter to mark off with precision the outlines of his
subject, are almost entirely superseded by the new pro¬
cesses of photography. The well-known instrument, mis¬
named the camera lucida, was one of the most ingenious
of these ; and the most simple of them was to set up an
open frame, across which a network of threads was sti etch¬
ed ; by placing the eye behind this frame and observing
through which mesh each part of the object is seen, an ex¬
pert draughtsman could readily transfer the outlines to a
sheet of paper, on which a similar network had been tiaced.
The art of drawing in perspective is useful to archi¬
tects and engineers, by enabling them to make views of in¬
tended buildings or machines. The ordinary plans, sec¬
tions, and elevations, which are needed for carrying out a
piece of work, hardly enable us to realise the appeal ance
which the structure will have when completed, and hence
the importance, particularly in matters of taste, of having
perspective representations,
PROJECTION OF POINTS.
Let PQRS (fig. 1), be the ground plan of an intended
building, and suppose that we wish to have its projection
upon a vertical plane standing on the line AB, the point
of sight being at E. We have only to join E with each
point of the structure, and ascertain where the lines cut
the picture plane. Thus having joined EP, the point/? at
which this line cuts the plane on AB, is the representative
of P.
When the point of sight can be marked on the same
sheet of paper with the plan, the simple joining of P, Q,
R, S, &c., with it gives the representative points ; but this
rarely happens, and some contrivance has to be made for
obtaining these points w’ithout actually drawing the lines.
Having let fall EC, a normal to the picture plane from
the point of sight, C is called the centre of the picture, and
EC the distance of sight. Produce EC to meet PI drawn
parallel to the line BA, then we have the proportion E 1 :
EC :: PT : /?C ; so that if ET and TP were known, the
distance Cp could be very easily found. Now ET and
TP are the co-ordinates of the point P referred to axes
passing through the point E ; hence a very convenient ar¬
rangement. Measure off along ET and CB a series ot
equal parts, and from the points of section draw lines pa¬
rallel to AB and ET and we have a network, by help of projection
of Points.
Fig. 1.
which the co-ordinates of the various points on the plan
can be found.
This network may be drawn in pencil upon the working
plans without injuring them ; but, for those who are in the
habit of making perspectives, it is convenient to have lines
etched upon the surface of a plate of glass which can be
laid down upon the plans in any required position.
In fig. 1, the distance of sight EC is ten of the actual
divisions ; calling it 100 and referring to the figure, we find
ET = 187, TP = 104, whence 187 : 100 : : 104: 55-6; so
that C» = 55’6.
Again, referring to fig. 2, which is the elevation of our
Fig. 2.
supposed building, we find the points P to be below the eye-
level 16 and 24, whence the distances of their representa¬
tives below the eye-level on the P|9turf ^ ^ ^
12-8, as found by the proportions 181 : 100 . . 16.8 b and
187 : 100 : : 24 : 12’8.
Fig. 3.
Let fig. 3 be the actual picture, C being the centre, and
446 P E R S P E C T I V E.
Projection CU the eye level; then the representation of the corner
of Straightof the base at P is obtained by laying off CU = o5’6 and
Lines. Uyo, 8'6 and 12-8 respectively.
These calculations may be readily made by help of a
sliding rule or of a circular logarithmic scale. The num¬
ber 187 on the one slide being brought opposite to 100 on
the other, we find opposite to the three numbers 104, 16,
and 24, the three results 5o’6, 8'6, and 12’8.
Denoting the co-ordinates of the various points of the
structure by X, Y, Z ■, X being in the direction ET, Y in
the direction TP, and Z in the vertical direction ; and at
the same time denoting by y and z the co-ordinates of the
projections on the picture plane, reckoning from the point
C, we have
t/=EC^; z=EC Z
Lines.
point for lines parallel to QP. Similarly, the vanishing- Projection
point for lines parallel to QR is found by drawing EA ^traigh£
parallel to QR. Having then measured off on the actual
picture (fig. 3), CB and CA equal to CB, CA, of fig. 1,
we perceive that the face and end lines of the structure
tend respectively to B and A.
The positions of the vanishing-points can be easily com¬
puted, since we have
EC : CB ::
EC : CA ::
or in our example
70 : 110
66 : — 42
XP-Xq
xR-xf
Yp-Yq
Yk-Yq,
and
X
Similar operations give the projections of the other points
of the structure, and the whole details may be recorded in
a tabular form as under :—
At P Base..
Wall.
At ^ Base-
Wall.
Base.
Wall.
At E
At S Base 
Vanishing point j
X
187
188
117
125
183
182
253
+ 104
+ 96
- 6
- 5
- 48
- 40
+ 62
-16
-24
-16
+ 64
-16
-24
-16
+ 64
-16
-24
-16
+ 64
-16
y
+ 55-6
+ 51T
- 51
- 4-0
- 26-2
- 22.0
+ 24-5
+ 157-1
- 63-6
- 8-6
—12'8
- 8-5
+ 34-1
-13-7
-20-5
-12-8
+ 51-2
- 8-7
-13-1
- 8-8
+ 35-2
- 6-3
00
00
100 : 157T = CB
100 : — 63*6= CA,
and when the angle PQR is right it is clear that the dis¬
tance of sight EC is a mean proportional between the dis¬
tances CB and CA of the two vanishing-points.
The determination of the points A and B facilitates
greatly the delineation of the picture, since all the lines of
the cornices, doors, and windows tend toward them. In
no properly arranged drawing can both of these points be
found within the limits of the paper, and therefore we must
either support a pin at the proper place by a cumbrous
erection, or make use of some instrument for drawing lines
to a distant point. The centrolinead, contrived by the late
Mr David Dick is, perhaps, the most convenient for the
Fig. 4.
The positions of the points on the picture are most
readily marked by
help of a graduated T
square and drawing-
board ; the scale for
the y being marked
off along the edge AB
(fig. 4) of the drawing-
board, and that for
the z along the edge
CD of the square ;
and pieces with ver¬
niers may be fitted to
slide on the blade of A
the square, so as to
give a great degree of precision. It is to be observed, that
the scale used for the drawing need not be the same as that
used for the plans and elevation, but may be made larger
or smaller, according to the nature of the case—the dis¬
tance of sight being increased or diminished in the same
ratio.
PROJECTION OF STRAIGHT LINES.
The projection of a straight line is also straight; for all
the lines drawn from the eye to points in a straight line lie
in one plane, and the intersection of this plane with the
picture is a straight line; wherefore, if the projections of
two points in a straight line be found, the projection of that
line is known.
If we draw through the point of sight E (fig. 1) a line EB
parallel to PQ, and meeting the picture plane in B, this
line is in the plane EPQ, and therefore B is in the projec¬
tion of QP upon the picture. Hence the projection of the
line RS, and, in general of any line parallel to QP, must
also pass through B. This point B is called the vanishing
perspective draughtsman : it consists of a parallel ruler of
the ordinary rhomboidal form, on the cross-ties, AB and CD
(fig. 5) of which two pieces, BE and DF, are made to slide;
these are retained in their places by pinching-screws at G
and H. From the ends of the sliding-pieces two thin
angular bits of steel project downwards to the paper, and
against these a tracing-rule KL is laid. The edges of the
steel at E and F must be accurately in the straight line
passing through the pins of the parallel ruler. In order to
facilitate the application of this instrument, notches are cut
in the principal bar at M and N, exactly in the line of the
joints. If, now, MN be applied to one of two converging
lines, and the bar MN be secured against moving, by
means of weights; and if, while the edge of KL is applied
to the second line, the sliding-pieces at E and F be adjusted
to bear upon it, the instrument is ready to trace lines tend¬
ing to the same point.
The vanishing-points for all horizontal lines are found in
the eye-levei; but for lines which are inclined to the hori¬
zon, the vanishing-points are above or below that level. If,
for example, there were a pediment on the face PQ of our
supposed building, the vanishing-points for the cornices of
that pediment would be found in a vertical line drawn
through the point B of fig. 3, and at distances equal to the
height of a pediment of which EB of fig. 1 is the half¬
breadth. Thus in Greek buildings the rise is about one-
fourth part of the horizontal distance, in which case the
positions of the vanishing-points will be found by laying
one-fourth part of EB, fig. 1, above and below B of fig. 3.
PERSPECTIVE.
447
Projection
of 'Curved
Lines.
Fig. 6.
When a row of equidistant vertical lines is put in per¬
spective, the distances and the lengths of the projections
are in harmonic progression ; and if any two ot these pro¬
jections be given, all the rest can readily be found.
Let, for example, P/? and (fig. 6) be the perspective re¬
presentations of two equal vertical lines, and let it be pio-
posed to continue the
scries either way.
Join PQ, pq, and
produce the lines till
they meet in B ; B is
the vanishing-point for
horizontal lines in the
plane of the series, and
a horizontal line drawn
through B must be the
eye-level. Join now
joQ, and produce it to
meet a vertical line
drawn through B ; the point of intersection b must be the
vanishing-point for all the lines connecting the top of one
upright with the bottom of the next; so that the intersec¬
tion of qb with BP marks the position of the perspec¬
tive projection of the next upright, and so that the intei-
section o of 6P with ¥>p gives the position of the next on
the other side.
Again Oo and Ss being the projections of two uprights
in a series, let it be proposed to divide the interval between
them as into four equal parts. Having found the vanishing-
point B as before, draw the vertical line through B, pro¬
duce oS to meet it in C, and measure off ¥>b equal to
four times BC, then b is the vanishing-point for diagonals of
single intervals. The rest of the construction is obvious.
PROJECTION OF CURVED LINES.
Generally speaking, the most convenient method of
drawing the perspective representation of a curved line is,
to assume a number of points in the curve, to project these
separately, and then to trace, by hand, a curve through
the several projections. This process is applicable, whether
the line to be projected be a fanciful curve sketched merely
to please the eye, or a curve of a definite character. In
the latter case, however, it is more satisfactory to determine
strictly the nature of the projection.
The lines which join the point of sight with the various
points in the given curve, trace out a conical or conoidal
surface ; and the intersection of the picture plane with that
surface is the projection sought for; so that this branch of
perspective drawing belongs essentially to the doctrine of
conic sections.
When the proposed line is a circle, or any other line of
the second order, the conoidal surface belongs to a cone
proper, right, or oblique, as the case may be. Now the
section of such a cone by a plane is also a line of the second
order ; wherefore the perspective projections of circles,
ellipses, parabolas, and hyperbolas belong to the same class.
As the circle occurs in all machinery, and very frequently
in buildings, the projection of the circle is a matter of special
interest, and a ready means of obtaining it is a desideratum.
When five points in a line of the second order are known,
the whole line is determined, and can be easily traced out
by the method of radiants. If, then, we project five points
in a circle, we can obtain its perspective representation.^
But as this process resolves itself into finding a number of
points in the curve, and then tracing, by hand, a line
through them, it is not preferable in practice to the simple
process of assuming a number of points in the circle, and
projecting these directlv.
When the circle to be projected lies ^nfirely on one side
of a plane passing through the point of sight and parallel to
the picture plane, its projection is a closed curve, generally Projection
elliptical, and sometimes, though very rarely, circular. Now, of Curved
we can trace ellipses by help of mechanical contrivances, ^ Lines- ^
called elliptographs. These instruments can be readily
applied when the major and minor axes of the curve are
known ; and therefore the practical problem becomes this,
“ To find the major and minor axes of the ellipse.”
If the plane of the circle be parallel to the picture plane
the projection is circular, and the centre of the projection
is the projection of the centre. Otherwise, let the plane
of the circle be produced to intersect the picture plane
along the line PQ (fig. 7); this line may happen to be
vertical, horizontal, or inclined.
From O, the centre of the circle, let fall OR perpendicular
to PQ, and circum¬
scribe the circldfby
the square KLMN,
touching at S, U, T,
and V.
From the centre
of the picture also
draw CQ perpendi¬
cular to PQ, and
suppose that the in¬
clination of the two
planes is represent¬
ed by i.
Since the two
lines LK and MN
are parallel to the
picture plane, their
Fig. 7.
projections must be parallel to each other, and to the line
PQ ; let Ik, mn (fig. 8) be these projections. The vanish¬
ing-point for the parallels LM, RSOT, and KN must be in
the continuation of QC as at B. Since O is the inter¬
section of the lines LN and MK, its projection must be at
the meeting of the two lines In and mk on the picture.
Having drawn through B a line parallel to PQ, produce
Fig. 8.
In to meet it \n b ; b is the vanishing-point for all lines
parallel to LN. Now we have, in general, NK : KL ::
EB : B&, wherefore, in this case, B6 must be equal to
EB * but EB is parallel to the plane of the circle, so that
EB : BC :: R s cos i, or B6 = BC . ses i. But BC —EC
cot i; wherefore, since cot i . sec i — cse i, B/;~EC cse i.
The vanishing-points for lines parallel to KM is at o, as
far on the other side of B.
If we join V with F, the middle of the arc V S, the angle
KVF is 22£°, and the vanishing-point for lines parallel to
448
PERSPECTIVE.
Curved VF, as SI, GT, UH, is found by making Be? equal to the
Surfaces, tangent of 22^° for V>b as a radius ; while, by laying off
^ an equal distance Be?', we obtain the vanishing-point for the
lines VI, TF, SH, UG. By help of one of these we
readily find the points/, g, h, i, and, by help of the other,
we can check the accuracy of the work. (The letters/, g, h,
i, are, for the sake of clearness, omitted in the figure.) Ob¬
serving that the tangents at / and h tend to b, those at g
and i to 11, we obtain an octagon circumscribing the desired
ellipse, after which an ordinarily expert draughtsman can
trace it out.
All this supposes that the vanishing-points are within the
range of the paper, or implies the use and frequent re-ad¬
justment of the centrolinead. Those who possess an ellip-
tograph would naturally prefer to determine the major and
minor axes of the ellipse, so as to be able to apply the
instrument. These axes can be obtained by means of the
doctrine of conic sections, but the processes, whether geo¬
metrical or algebraic, are so tedious that the method of
points is to be preferred in practice.
When the circumference of the circle is graduated, as in
the case of arches or of toothed wheels, the projection by
successive points is unavoidable.
Retaining the ordinates X in their former position, let us,
for the sake of convenience, place the Y in the direction
QC, the Z in the direction QP, the origin being still at the
point of sight. Having assumed any point W in the cir¬
cumference of the circle, let us denote the angle UOW
by a, the radius of the circle being r, then the co-ordinates
of the point W are,—
Xw = X0 + r sin i . sin a
Yw = Y0 + r cos i . sin a
Zw=Z0 + r cos a,
so that the co-ordinates of its projection on the picture
plane are,—
_ „„ Y0 + r cos i . sin a
yw— ’ X0 + r sin i . sin a
_pr Zp + r cos a
Xp + r sin « . sin a.
By giving to a the values corresponding to the various
divisions of the circle, we can compute, by means of these
formulae, their several projections.
When the perspective of any other curve is wanted, the
best method is to assume points in the proposed curve, and
to find the perspective representations of these separately.
CURVED SURFACES.
The representation of a curved surface in perspective is
a matter of considerable difficulty. When the surface is
so placed that lines can be drawn from the point of sight
to touch it, these lines form the surface of an enveloping
conoid, and the intersection of the picture plane with this
conoidal surface is the boundary of the perspective lepie-
sentation ; but it is also the representation of the line in
which the conoid touches the proposed surface, and, with¬
out the help of shading or colouring, the eye cannot distin¬
guish whether the trace be meant to represent the line of
contact, or the curved surface.
For example, lines drawn from the point of sight to
touch a sphere lie in the surface of a right cone touching
the sphere along a circle. The intersection of this cone
with the picture plane is an ellipse, which is, indiffer¬
ently, the projection of the sphere, or of the circle of
contact. Nay, it might have been intended to repre¬
sent any other curved surface enveloped by the same
cone. The mere line then cannot convey the desired im¬
pression to the eye.
If the equation of the curved surface be represented by
the symbol U = 0, U being a function of the three ordi¬
nates X, Y and Z, we must also have SU = 0, or
(S)sx + Q8Y + (1) sz=0;
so that the equation of a plane touching the surface at the
point of which the ordinates are X', Y', Z', must be
(g)(x-x')+ (f)(Y-Y')+ (f)(Z-Z>0.
If this plane pass through the point of sight, the point at
which it touches the curved surface is in the line of con¬
tact, so that the character of this line is determined by the
two equations
u=o, a„d(f)x'+(g)r+(f)Z=0.
If now x be the distance of sight, y and z the co-ordi¬
nates of the perspective limit, we have
,rY' = X'w : xZ' = X'z.
Curved
Surfaces
and on eliminating X', Y' and 7,' from these four equations,
we obtain an equation in y and z, which determines the
form of the perspective outline.
The equation of a sphere, of which the centre is O and
the radius r is
(X - X0)2 + (Y - Y0)2 + (Z - Z0)2 - r = 0, . (1.)
which corresponds to the general equation U = 0. Treat¬
ing this by the method of partial differentials, we obtain, on
halving,
(X-Xo)X + (Y-Y0)Y + (Z-Zo)Z = 0, . . (2.)
and this subtracted from the preceding equation, leaves
XXo + YYo + ZZo = X02 + Yo2 + Z02-r2, . . (3.)
which is the equation of a plane perpendicular to the line
joining E with O ; the intersection of this plane with the
surface of the sphere gives the line of contact. By adding
the double of equation (3.) to (1.), we obtain
X2 + Y2 + Z2 = Xo2 + Yo2 + Zo2-r2, . (4.)
which belongs to a sphere having its centre at the origin, and
its radius the side of a right-angled triangle, having the dis¬
tance EO for its hypothenuse, and r for its other side. The
equation of the ellipse may be now found by eliminating
from (3.) and (4.), the quantities X, Y, Z, by means of the
equations
xY = Xy; xZ = Xz,
the result being
(a:2 +y* + z2) (X02 + Y02 + Z02- r2) = (X0x + Y0y + ZQz)\
which indicates a line of the second order, the major axis
of which passes through the centre of the picture.
From this example of the application of the general
method to a very simple case, it will be seen that the strict
analytic process is far too laborious to be used in projecting
the curved surfaces which are found on buildings or in
machinery: a process readier, though perhaps not so satis¬
factory, is needed by the practical draughtsman.
It is of no use to assume, at random, points upon the
proposed surface, since the projections of these would not
give the limiting line of the picture. We must endeavour
to select points on the line of contact.
A convenient though, in some cases, rather a tedious
process, is to make a series of sections of the proposed sur¬
face, to project these, and then to draw a line touching and
inclosing the projections. In the case of a cylinder or of
a truncated cone, it is enough to project the two ends and
to draw straight lines touching the two ellipses, while for a
pointed cone, tangents drawn from the projection of the
PERSPECTIVE.
449
Inverse aPex t0 t^le e^*Pse which represents the base, are the limits
Problem. °f the picture.
^ ^ / For an annular surface, as that of the torus of a column,
it is convenient to take sections made by planes passing
along the axis of the solid, as these give equal curves; and
it may be remarked in general, that only a small part of
each curve need be projected.
INVERSE PROBLEM.
When a drawing, purporting to be the perspective repre¬
sentation of an object is presented to us, we endeavour to
realize the form of that object. This we can only do
strictly, by resolving the problem “ of what object can such
a drawing be the true picture ?” Shading and colouring
aside, the lines of the picture may be the projections of an
infinity of diverse solids, the corners and edges of which
are in the straight lines joining the eye with the various
traces; and these again change with every alteration in
the position of the spectator. Hence the inverse problem
is incapable of a strict solution.
A correct drawing of any familiar object, though in out¬
line only, at once suggests the idea of the object which it
was intended to represent; and though it cannot be de¬
monstrated strictly to be the picture of such and such a
thing, the mind, through the force of association, is satisfied
of the fact. Adding to the actual delineation the know¬
ledge that the picture is meant to represent, say a house,
we may, to a certain degree, thence determine the propor¬
tions of the structure.
Let us suppose, for example, that fig. 9 is placed before
Fig. 9.
us. We recognise that it is intended to pourtray the block
of a building, and infer that the building is rectangular.
Query, with this inference can we deduce the actual pro¬
portions of the structure from its picture in perspective ?
The first thing to be discovered is the position of the
point of sight. Having produced QP, qp to meet in B,
QR, qr to meet in A, we obtain the two principal vanish¬
ing points, and having joined AB we have the level of the
eye. If the picture plane have been placed upright, and if
the drawing have been accurately made, the lines Rr, Q<7,
Pp, are perpendicular to AB. The point of sight E must
be in a plane perpendicular to the plane of the paper, and
meeting it along the line AB. Now, the line EA is parallel
to the lines represented by QR, qr; EB to those repre¬
sented by QP, qp ; wherefore the angle AEB must be right,
and the point of sight must be found somewhere in the
circumference of a semicircle described on AB as a dia¬
meter ; but we have no positive means of determining at
what point in that semi-circumference the eye ought to be
placed. However, it is customary to place ourselves right
in front of a picture, so that if we take C, the middle of
that portion of the eye-level which is included within the
VOL. XVII.
tive.
limits of the paper, we may assume it as the middle of the Binocular
picture. Erecting then at C a normal to the picture-plane, Perspec-
equal to a mean proportional between CA and CB, we "
obtain the position of the point of sight, and thus we can X
construct the part ABCE of fig. 1.
In order to discover the proportions of the parts of the
building, draw the diagonals Qp, Qr on the picture, and
produce them to meet vertical lines drawn through the
vanishing points B and A, then, since the line joining the
eye with b is parallel to that represented by Qp, we have
the proportion EB : B6 : : length represented by QP :
length represented by Pp, and thus we obtain the ratio of
the length to the height of the building. Similarly EA :
Aa :: breadth : height.
The ground-plan of the building may be reproduced by
measuring from C, in fig. 1, a horizontal distance CP, taken
from the picture, joining Ep, and producing it to any sup¬
posed distance pP. A line drawn through P, parallel to BE,
is the line of the front, and the length of it may be found
by measuring off Cq equal to the horizontal distance on the
picture, by joining E^, and producing it to meet the line of
the front.
From these examples it is easy to see how the whole
details of the structure could be scrutinized, if it ever should
happen that the actual dimensions had to be obtained from
a perspective drawing. It is evident that these operations
cannot give the actual dimensions : some object of a known
magnitude must form part of the picture, so as to be a
standard of comparison.
Unless a picture be viewed from its proper point of sight,
the impression produced must be different from that in¬
tended by the artist. In landscape and figure paintings the
effect of a misplacement of the eye is not very conspicuous,
but in drawings of buildings and machinery it is painfully
felt. When the picture of a house is viewed from beyond
the point of sight, that corner which is towards the eye ap¬
pears acute; it seems, in fact, equal to the angle of two straight
lines joining the eye with the vanishing-points A and B;
and conversely, if the spectator come too close to the picture,
the corner appears to be obtuse. By changing slowly one s
distance from a perspective drawing, and studying the
effect of the change, the proper distance may be passably
well ascertained.
On moving the eye across the picture, the faces or the
building, seeming always to be parallel to the lines joining
the eye with the vanishing-points, appear to change their
directions, as if the whole structure turned to follow the
observer. This effect is well known in the case ot por¬
traits in which the model has been looking at the painter;
the eyes of such portraits seem to follow the spectator
wherever he mav go.
In preparing vignettes and frontispieces, it is very com¬
mon for engravers to reduce some well executed drawing ;
the effect of this is to reduce also the distance of sight, and
to bring it far within the limits of distinct y.sion. I he eye
cannot be placed nearer the paper than twelve or ten inches,
while distance of sight for vignettes is reduced often to three
or four inches, sometimes even to less. Hence a painful
and even ludicrous distortion: if there be buddings they
look as if sharpened at the corners to angles of 50, 40 or
20 degrees ; and if it be a landscape, the retirement of the
distant objects is out of all proportion to the bieadth ot tie
foreground.
BINOCULAR PERSPECTIVE.
We cannot realize the meaning of a perspective drawing
without the aid of the association of ideas ; but if we had
two drawings of the same object as seen from two known
separate points of view, we could thence deduce strictly the
dimensions and form of the object represented by them.
The distance between the two points of sight would form
3 L
450 PER
Perth, the base of a triangulation, and the problem would become
a case in trigonometry.
Actually the appearances presented to the two eyes are
two such pictures, and the convergence which we find it
necessary to give to the two optical axes in order to bung
the imao-es of a given point to coincide, enables us to esti¬
mate the nearness of that point. Of this we have a beau¬
tiful example in the habits of the chameleon. The eyes ot
that lizard are set upon two projecting balls which turn
freely in their sockets, and their motions are quite inde¬
pendent of each other, so that while the one eye may be
intently watching some insect, the other may be moving
about in search of a more convenient prey. Ihe field ot
view is very small, and hence an incessant motion of explo¬
ration. As soon as the animal has perceived a fly tolerably
within range, he brings both eyes to bear upon it, and ad¬
vances cautiously till it be within the reach of his long
tongue : he neve'r mistakes the distance ; single vision does
not^enable him to estimate it with sufficient nicety, but the
convergence of the two eyes does so.
Professor Wheatstone showed, many years ago, that it
two properly projected drawings be presented, one to each
eve, the effect of the double vision is to give the appear¬
ance of solidity. The only thing which hindered Wheat-
P E R
stone’s stereoscope from at once becoming a valuable addi- Perth,
tion to our stock of illustrative apparatus was the extreme
difficulty of making the drawings, sufficiently exact. Only
simple geometrical forms could be attempted, and the
invention had almost been forgotten. But the recent dis¬
covery of photography, by enabling us to obtain minutely
exact views of actual objects, has invested the doctrine of
binocular perspective with new importance.
The projection of twin drawings for the stereoscope
differs in no respect from the processes of ordinary perspec¬
tive ; the only thing to be attended to is the choice of the
points of sight. If we were to make two pictures of a large
building as seen from points only 2^ inches apart, the differ¬
ences between them would be almost imperceptible ; in the
language of the surveyor, the base would be far too short.
Hence we are obliged to separate considerably the points
of sight; but when we come to unite the two pictures, we
see them from the eyes, which are 2^ inches separate, and
hence the impression is not that of a large building but of
a small model. In other words, the stereoscope is appli¬
cable to objects at hand, and can only give diminutive views
of remote objects.
The accompanying figures (fig. 10) are the projections of
a rhomboidal solid, with one of its diagonals drawn. When
viewed through any of the ordinary stereoscopes, the illusion
is complete ; but if the wood engraver had attempted to diaw
the other three diagonals, they would have been seen, in
all probability, to have passed each other at the middle, as
any one may convince himself by drawing them in penci ,
the reason is, that the slightest deviation from the pioper
place occasions a great change in the apparent position o
the line ; and hence the great difficulty of making steieo-
scopic engravings, or even of touching up by hand photo¬
graphic pictures.
It must be observed, that a pair of stereoscopic views can
never produce on tbe eyes exactly the same effect which
the sight of the object would ; for when we look from one
part of an object to another, the adjustment of the focal
length, as well as the convergence of the axes, is changed,
and these two, from habit, are inseparably connected. Now,
it is only the convergence of the eyes which is accommo¬
dated in the arrangement of binocular drawings, so that the
use of the stereoscope must always do violence to the natu¬
ral association of the muscular efforts. (E- s>)
PERTH, the principal town of Perthshire, and the most
central in Scotland, is situated on the banks of the river
fay, about 25 miles above its confluence with the German
Ocean, in Lat. 56. 23. 40. N., and Long. 3. 26. 20. W.
The city, eminent for the beauty of its situation, occupies
the centre of an amphitheatre, varied, pleasing, and highly
picturesque. Encircled by richly wooded and highly culti¬
vated heights, sloping more or less proximately, sits embed¬
ded the “ Fair City,” with its splendid and spacious parks, the
Inches, extending their swardy expanses north and south, and
its noble river flowing through its apparent confines.
From the rising grounds by which the city is surrounded,
although none of them is of great altitude, some of the finest
views in Scotland are to be obtained. Those from the
summit of Moncrieff and Kinnoull Hills are of great extent,
beauty, and variety. The prospect from Moncrieff Hill,
described by Pennant as “ the glory of Scotland,” embraces
on the west and south the vale of Strathearn; on the east
PERTH.
451
Perth, the curve of the Tay to the ocean ; and in the distant north
  a noble sweep of the Grampian Mountains, with much of
the Alpine scenery of Perthshire and contiguous counties.
From Kinnoull Hill the view is less extensive, but scarcely
inferior in beauty, variety, and interest. The height of
Moncrielf Hill is 756 feet, and the height of Kinnoull Hill
is 632 feet above the river.
The site of the town is only a few feet above the level
of the sea; and hence it is exposed to partial inundation
when the Tay is very much flooded. The height of the
low grounds along the bank of the river varies from only
20 to 30 feet above the mean level of the sea; and the
plain on which the town is built is still lower. Inconveni¬
ences of this kind of much consequence, however, are of
rare occurrence.1 Although lying low, the town is not by
any means to be regarded as unhealthy; and though it is
also closely surrounded by hills on all sides except to¬
wards the north, yet these being of moderate elevation,
the hygrometric state of the incumbent atmosphere is little
affected by their vicinity, and the air is accordingly more
dry and clear than might have been expected. Fogs are
not more frequent than in the open plains ; and the diseases
resulting from a damp soil and a humid atmosphere are of
rare occurrence, or rather altogether unknown. The
gravelly and sandy subsoil of the district, and the perpetual
change of air occasioned by the current of the river in all
states of the weather, contribute to render the climate of
Perth more salubrious than that of many towns possessing
a greater elevation. The mean hygrometric state of the
air at Perth (as was ascertained, a good many years ago, by
the late Professor Anderson) appears to be when the at¬
mosphere is charged with about four-fifths of the entire
quantity of moisture it is capable of holding in solution at
the mean temperature. The hygrometrical means for
1857 were—mean of dry-bulb, 50o,6; mean of wet bulb,
450,9. The quantity of rain observed to fall in the imme¬
diate neighbourhood of the town seems to correspond pretty
nearly with the mean quantity for the latitude. In the
year 1857 the fall was 30464 inches, and the number of
days in which it fell 164; so that against the number of
wet or snowy days there were 201 fair days. The mean
annual fall of rain, deduced from a period of six years—
viz., from the year 1852 to 1857—was 30-30 inches. The
mean height of the barometer, reduced to 32° for 1857,
was 2085 inches. The mean annual height, deduced from
the same period of six years, as above in the case of the
rain, was 2067 inches. The mean temperature of 1857
was 51°’], and the annual mean deduced from the above
period of six years, 46°’5. The following are the obser¬
vations of the wind for the year 1857, viz.:—N., 16
days; N.E., 21; E., 14; S.E., 59£; S., 15^; S.W., 63;
W., 62^; N.W., 20^; calm, 93 days; mean force of
the wind, The mortality tables for the years 1855,
1856, and 1857, show respectively somewhat under 2%, 2,
and 3 per cent, deaths to the population. The deaths re¬
gistered in the burgh, exclusive of Kinnoull, in 1855, were
577; in 1856, 490; and in 1857, 695,—being for 1855, 1 Perth,
in 41; for 1856, 1 in 48 ; and for 1857, 1 in 34 of the popu-
lation. For the whole burgh, the births registered in
1857 were, 390 males and 370 females ; and the marriages
237.
The greater part of the parish of Perth rests upon the old
red sandstone formation, which stretches through the valleys
of Strathmore and Strathearn. It contains altogether about
3400 imperial acres, and exhibits much diversity of soil.
As regards the town and its suburbs, considerable changes
in respect of soil and elevation must from time to time have
taken place, as abundant evidence exists, low as it still is,
of its having, at one time, been very much lower. Exca¬
vations in all parts of the town are constantly exposing the
remains of buildings and numerous other traces of a lower
level.
Perth is one of the most ancient towns in Scotland, and its civil
history, up to the sixteenth century, is deeply interwoven with the
national annals. Its origin is buried in the obscurity of the past,
and the very etymology of its name is uncertain. The latter is
now generally supposed to be of Celtic origin—an opinion which
receives considerable support from the analogy of names of other
places in the same neighbourhood, as well as all over Scotland,
clearly of Celtic derivation. Perth must have been a place of con¬
siderable note long before the period when existing history refers
to it. The “ House of the Green” stood on what for ages had been
reckoned the site of an old British temple, which, on the authority
of Geoffrey, who wrote his history in the beginning of the twelfth
century, was believed at the time of Hollinshed to have been built
by the son of Regan, second daughter of Lear, who governed
Britain long before the birth of our Saviour. This tradition is so
far supported by the fact, that in digging many years ago for a
proper foundation for the house which now occupies the site, sub¬
terranean buildings were discovered answering the description of
such structures. It is a generally received opinion, that Perth was
built and fortified by Agricola, who erected a citadel to maintain
his conquests, and check the wild spirit of the savage natives. In
corroboration of this opinion, it may be stated that there are no
fewer than four military or Roman roads from different quar¬
ters, all leading to, if not centering in, Perth. The town was early
known by the name of St Johnstoun, from the inhabitants, after
their conversion to Christianity, having consecrated the church and
bridge to John the Baptist, and having made him tutelary saint of
the town. But there is no public document in which it is so de¬
signated, although the common seal of the burgh, which was in
use in the year 1400, and of which many impressions are still
in existence, represented the martyrdom of St John, and bore
the legend, “ S. communitatis ville Sancti Johanms Baptiste de
Perth.” . „ _,
That Perth was a burgh in the reign of Edgar, 1106, appears
from a charter then granted to a John Burgess in which he was
designated a burgess of Perth. The charter of confirmation by
James VI. makes particular mention of one which had been granted
by David I., who died 1153. King David’s charter was renewed and
confirmed by that of William the Lion, which is extant. From this
point the authentic history of Perth may be said to I en¬
joys the dignity of having been the ancient capital of Scot and.
James II was the first Scottish monarch crowned in Edinburgh,
an event wMch happened in the year 1447. Soon thereafter the
Parliament and courts of justice were removed thither; but it was
not Gil 1482, in the reign of James III, that Edinburgh was de¬
clared to be the capital of Scotland. There seems good reason to
believe, that when Edward I. ransacked the chartulary of Scone,
, , j • -lo-in 1R21 1740 1773, and 1814. The greatest of these
1 The most remarkable inundations of which we have any record occurred m io-i, Jgon prince Alexander, and the Earl of
appears to have been the first; in which, says Fordun in his Scotichronicon, ‘ Kl”S VV1 1 ’ f tv a few of the nobles who happened
Huntingdon, the king’s brother, left the town in a small boat, and reached the “T la" the townspeople of both sexes, with diffi-
then to be at court accompanied them in other boats ; others on the tops of houses, a o g vessels could be impelled along
culty escaped a watery grave. . . . The river rose to such a height, tha^
the streets and broadways without any difficulty or impediment. • . • J>101 0 ( uirk-session records,—" that therethrough the
old chapel, were overthrown by the waters.” Of the flood of 1621 it is presmwe ^ ^ ^ ciun within it to make
Brig of Tay was hailly dung doun, except only one bow thereof standing. Hone £ h prevented the people repairing to
“y f? a however, wh’ea a. it, very height, not *oeSpirit cased ringVpre.ehiag bell
church, for it is also recorded that » Mr John Malcolm, minister, powerfully endowed „ .g of tlle inundation of 1740.
on Sunday at seven hours of the morning, and the haill inhabitants came to • jniurv to property. Of a very similar
That of 1775 was produced by the shuttfag up of the river by .1'';™, f ^d cufed mtb Spt^peV Sever,’famine,
character was the more recent flood of 1814. It attained the height of Jeet> Ca“Se.h j the g°me The last considerable
were removed from their houses by means of boats, and communication hel wi i 7 occasion r0se to within 2 feet of the height
flood took place in October 1847, and was produced entirely by rain. The water on this occas on rose to WltDin Z g
attained in 1814, and with serious injury to property, submerged all the lower lying parts ot the town.
452
PERTH.
Perth.
he also made free with the records and documents of public value
preserved at Perth; hence the absence of, in a great measure, such
papers, as were to have been expected in a city so prominent in the
nation’s history. The records of the burgh are, however, of very
considerable antiquity, but unfortunately the oldest cannot now be
deciphered. The earliest legible date is 1512. Cant, in his His¬
tory, however, produces a full and uninterrupted list of magistrates
from 1465 to 1765. From the ancient importance of the city, its
annals are replete with incidents and events of more than local
interest and consequence. In 1298, after the battle of Falkirk,
Edward I. reduced all the fortresses in Scotland, but fortified l erth,
and rebuilt the walls in the strongest manner. Such defences
proved in these and subsequent times exceedingly necessary. In
these rude ages it was surrounded by the feudal castles of several
powerful barons, with some of whom the inhabitants appear to
have been frequently at feud, whilst with others, as Chartres of
Kinfauns, the Earl of Cowrie, the Earl of Atholl, Lord Scone, and
Threipland of Fingask, they were on such friendly terms as to
have had one of their number for chief magistrate. Amusing evi¬
dence is to be found in the records of the burgh, of these alternate
feuds and fraternizations. The worthy burgesses seem to have
been men of mettle in those days ; and on various occasions, sallying
forth from behind their walls, set fire to the castles of their haughty
neighbours, when the latter, probably in reprisal for some offence,
had forbidden their vassals to carry provisions to the city. In the
year 1311, Robert Bruce laid siege to the town, but was obliged to
withdraw his troops, after various unsuccessful attempts to take it.
Not discouraged, however, the Scottish hero, having selected a
band of determined men, and chosen a dark night, led them on in
person, scaled the walls, and carried the town sword in hand ; the
king himself being the second man who entered the place. About
the beginning of the fourteenth century, the famous combat be¬
tween the Clan Chattan and the Clan Quhele or Clan Kay, took
place on the North Inch, and was decided in favour of the former,
partly by the bravery of a citizen or burgess called Harry Wynd,
whom the chief of the Clan Chattan had engaged on the spot to
supply the place of one of his men who had failed to appear. This
city has also been the scene of several of those social tragedies, in
which the history of Scotland, in those rude times, was so prolific.
In the year 1336, King Edward III. of England stabbed his brother
the Duke of Cornwall, before the high altar of the church of St
John- and in 1437, James I. was murdered in the monastery of
Blackfriars, by Walter, Earl of Atholl, Robert Stewart, his lord¬
ship’s grandson, and Robert Graham, their kinsman, with circum¬
stances of the most savage barbarity. The murderers were exe¬
cuted in Perth, and the details of their punishment are of the most
revolting character, reflecting but little honour on the good feeling
and humanity of our forefathers. Perth appears to have been
several times visited by the plague, particularly in 1512, 1585,
1608 and 1645. Its ravages during the last of these visitations
were5 severe, 3000 persons having become its victims. In 1539,
Margaret, queen of James IV. was interred in the Carthusian mo¬
nastery, beside the tomb of James I. Her Majesty died at Metbven
Castle. In 1617, James VI. honoured the ancient capital of Scot¬
land with a visit, the details of which, as found in the burgh re¬
cords, are not a little graphic and entertaining. And m 1623, one
of those exhibitions, of which James was so fond, and which leave
a stain upon the national annals, took place in Perth - we mean,
the burning of three poor women for witchcraft. In 1633, Charles
I., in his tour through Scotland, visited Perth; and in 1651, Oliver
Cromwell took military possession of the city, and erected a citadel
on the South Inch. The year 1600 was rendered memorable by
the occurrence of the famous Gowrie conspiracy; one of those events
on which ingenuity and research have exhausted themselves, and
which, in its origin and circumstances, still remains enveloped in
impenetrable mystery. .  
In the ecclesiastical history of Scotland, Perth occupies a some¬
what prominent position. Here, it may be said, the work of re¬
formation in Scotland was commenced by Knox. In Lo44, Oa -
dinal Bethune having obtained an act in favour of the bishops an
clergy to persecute and punish heretics, came, to ei , w en an
accusation was forthwith lodged against certain persons er
rupting a friar of the name of Spence while preaching. . e ,aC
cused were found guilty, and condemned, and on the following day
were executed—four men being hanged ; and one woman, ^ ®se
offence was refusing to pray to the Virgin Mary, drowned. O er
citizens were banished. Before the Cardinal left Perth, the e-
gent, at his instigation, turned Lord Ruthven, provost of the town,
out of his office, and conferred it upon Chartres of Kinfauns. The
-citizens, however, resisted the attempt, and repulsed in a smart
skirmish the Cardinal’s nominee, who came to enter upon his
duties at the head of an armed force. The means adopted here
and elsewhere to suppress the dawning Reformation only served
to spread it. Executions became general, and the people became
more and more alienated from the Church. The public exercise of
the reformed religion having been introduced into Perth, the re- ^
gent queen commanded all the Protestant preachers to be sum¬
moned to a court of justice to be held at Stirling the 10th of May
1559. The people resolved to answer the summons along with
their ministers, in such numbers as induced the queen to feign an
abandonment of the trial. The people dispersed, and the preachers,
with a few leaders, remained at Perth. The dissimulations of her
Majesty ended, on the said 10th of May, in the banishment of the
still refractory ministers ; the day after which John Knox appeared
in Perth, and preached the famous sermon against the idolatry of
the Church of Rome, which proved indirectly the cause of the first
great outbreak of the Reformation. The indiscretion of a priest,
who, after the sermon, was preparing to celebrate mass, precipi¬
tated such of the congregation as remained into action with tumul¬
tuary but irresistible violence. They fell upon the churches, over¬
turned the altars, defaced the pictures, broke in pieces the images,
and proceeding next to the monasteries, in a few hours laid these
sumptuous fabrics almost level with the ground. The fury of the
mob, however, was in a great measure confined to the edifices;
little personal insult was offered to any one, and not a single Ro¬
man Catholic was put to death. This riotous insurrection was in
nowise the result of premeditation, was not joined by the more
respectable citizens, and was publicly censured and condemned by
the ministers and leaders of the Reformation. Her Majesty heard
of the destruction of the religious houses at Perth with much con¬
cern, and determined to inflict the severest vengeance on the Re¬
formers. Both parties took the field; negotiations ensued; Perth
was thrown open to the queen, and occupied by a French garr.son.
But no sooner was peaceable admission gained, than all the pre¬
vious stipulations were disregarded; the whole town was op¬
pressed; swarms of priests were introduced into it; Lord Ruthven
and the bailies were superseded in their offices ; Chartres was made
provost; and the exercise of no other religion than the Roman
Catholic was permitted. Relief from the insolence and exactions
of the garrison was only obtained after a regular siege by the Re¬
formers. On the 26th of June Lord Ruthven attacked the town
on the west, and Provost Halyburton of Dundee fired into it from
the bridge, and speedily obliged the garrison to capitulate. From
this resulted the destruction of the abbey and palace of Scone on
the following day. After the loss of Perth, the Queen endeavoured
to seize Stirling. Argyle, and Stewart, prior of St Andrews, hav¬
ing received intelligence of her design, marched out of Perth with
three hundred citizens, resolved to prosecute the Reformation, or
perish in the attempt. That their determination might be the
more apparent, they, instead of ribbons, put ropes about their
necks, intimating thereby that whoever of their number should
desert their colours should be hanged by the ropes. Hence the
origin of the proverb of “ St Johnstoun’s Ribbons.” The people
joined them everywhere as they proceeded; and before they reached
Stirling, their numbers had increased to five thousand. The gates
of Stirling, and of every other town in their way, were thrown
open to receive them. They, without violence, took possession of
Edinburgh, cast the images out of its churches, and placed in them
ministers of the Reformation.
Perth.
Perth has long since been divested of almost every relic
of antiquity, although at one time few places were so highly
favoured in this respect. Hardly a trace is left of any of
the numerous religious houses with which it abounded.
The Parliament House and Gowrie Palace are also entirely
removed. Two small portions of the ancient city wall,
however, are still preserved; but the lade is the only work
which has passed entire from ancient to modern Perth.
Claiming to be first noticed among the public buildings
of Perth is the old church of St John. It is altogether
unknown when and by whom this edifice was founded;
but from such historical facts as can now be gathered, it
must have been built about the middle of the fiith century.
Stones were requested by King Robert Bruce in 1329 for
its repair from “ our beloved and faithful religious men,
the abbot and convent of Scone.” In the year 1410, the
edifice was in good repair; all the old altars had been
removed, and new ones erected. At the period of the
Reformation, it is described as in a very high state of
repair, containing rich altar pieces, images, decorations, and
ornaments. But the fabric is of such very remote origin,
and has undergone so many repairs, that it is difficult to
say what or whether any of the original building now re¬
mains. There can be no doubt, however, that the tower
PERTH.
453
Perth and the pillars of the East and West churches are of very
ancient date. When it was divided, as at present, into
three places of worship, is not precisely known. That pait
of it which is now occupied as the West church must have
been separated from the rest about the beginning of the
seventeenth century, for it is recorded that a public meet¬
ing of the inhabitants was held in it in 1608. A variety
of other public transactions are recorded as having taken
place there. Prominent among them is the meeting of the
General Assembly in August 1618, at which the famous
Five Articles of Perth were passed. In 1716 it was fitted
up as a place of worship; and in 1771 the eastern division,
or choir, now the East church, was separated from the old
or Middle church. The present fittings of the churches
are all modern. One of the bells bears date 1400, and
another 1506. The only other church possessing any par¬
ticular interest is the South United Presbyterian church,
having been erected in 1740 for Mr W ilson, one ot the
four original seceders from the Church ot Scotland.
Of the other public buildings, the principal are the bridge
over the Tay, completed in 1771, at an expense of L.26,631,
of which government contributed L.l 1,000, the city of
Perth L.2000, and the royal burghs L.500; the County
Buildings, erected in 1819—20, at a cost of L.32,000 ; the
General Prison ; the military barracks, erected in 1793-4 ;
the public seminaries, erected by public subscription in
1807, at a cost of about L.7000, of which the city contri¬
buted L.1050; Murray’s Royal Lunatic Asylum, com¬
pleted in 1827, and erected at an original cost of upwards ot
L.40,000, bequeathed by Mr James Murray, a native of
the parish of Perth, to which considerable additions have
been made by the directors, including two contiguous pro¬
perties ; the monument erected to the memory of Provost
Marshall, in which are accommodated the Perth Library and
the library and museum of the Literary and Antiquarian
Society; the water reservoir, erected in 1830; the in¬
firmary, erected in 1836, at a cost of L.6000; and the
general railway station, partially erected in 1848, and
still uncompleted. The only other building of much note
is the hospital, founded by James VI. in 1569, and which
has two royal charters.
Perth abounds in religious, educational, and charitable
institutions. There are twenty-four churches, compiising
six places of worship belonging to the Established, six to
the Free, and three to the United Presbyterian Churches ;
in addition to these, there are Original Secession, Wesleyan,
Independent, Baptist, English Episcopalian, Scotch Epis¬
copalian, and Roman Catholic Churches ; there is also a
Glassite meeting-house. There are eighteen public schools,
besides a considerable number of private schools ; also three
ragged or industrial schools. In eleven of the public schools
education is afforded to the poorer classes at fees more or
less small; and in one, under the management of the incor¬
porated trades, to the sons of members gratuitously. J he
charitable institutions are no less abundant. J he principal
of these are the infirmary, which contains accommodation
for 68 patients, and is maintained at an annual cost of about
L.l300 ; the Indigent Old Men’s Society, which expended
in provisions and clothing, in 1857, L.165 ; the Indigent
Old Women’s Society, which similarly disbursed L.OO;
the Destitute Sick Society, L.52 ; and the Ladies’ Clothing
Society, L.28. Besides these, there are the Lethendy
Mortifications, the annuities of which amounted in 1857 to
L.723 ; and James VI.’s Hospital, affording outdoor relief
to the extent of about L.600 per annum. The incorporated
trades also devote a large proportion of their funds to the
assistance of their poorer members. In this way, in 1857,
the trades expended the sum of L.1062, and the guildry
L.464. The poor’s rates for the burgh amounted in 1857
to L.6543.
Of the trade of the place a very vague estimate only can
be formed. The exports and imports by the river afford
no index to it whatever, the great bulk of the traffic being ^
carried on by railway. Perth cannot be said now, as in
former times, to be famous for any particular manufacture
or branch of business. Cotton goods for foreign markets are
made to a considerable extent; so are galas, wincies, and
hosiery, for home trade. The number of weavers employed
by the Perth manufacturers is variously estimated from
1500 and downwards. Linen is made to a small extent by
power-looms. A very large traffic, however, is carried on
in wood. In this trade, seven saw-mills, driven by steam,
of, in the aggregate, seventy-six horse-power, are constantly
employed in cutting up the timber for the various pur¬
poses for which it is employed. The value of the wood
changing hands at Perth is estimated at about L.50,000
per annum ; and the larger proportion of it is the produce
of the county. The purposes to which it is principally ap¬
plied, besides house and ship building, are pit-props, barrel-
staves, railway-sleepers, and fences. Ship-building is
also vigorously prosecuted, giving employment to about 150
to 200 carpenters and others. Agricultural produce, and
commodities connected with agriculture, form perhaps the
most prominent feature in the commerce of the place. The
salmon caught in the river are also an item of some im¬
portance in this respect, the great bulk of them being ex¬
ported from Perth for the London market; the aggregate
rent of the salmon-fishings in the Tay being, for the year
1858, L.l 1,487. The tonnage of vessels visiting the port
for the year ending 1st November 1857 was 25,877 tons
register ; and 57 vessels, measuring 5000 tons, are owned
in Perth.
The government of the city is vested in a lord provost,
who is also sheriff and coroner; four bailies ; a treasurer ,
the dean of guild, who is ex officio a member of the coun¬
cil ; and nineteen councillors. There are two city clerks,
a procurator-fiscal, and a chamberlain. The city sends a
member to Parliament. After Edinburgh was constituted
the capital of the kingdom, Perth stood second on the roll
of burghs of the Scottish Parliament, and is still entitled to
hold that rank. Its chief magistrate has for centuries en¬
joyed the title of Lord Provost, which was confirmed by a
judgment of the Court of Session, 12th March 1836. I he
Circuit Court of Justiciary is held here twice a year, when
the more aggravated criminal offences committed in tie
counties of Perth, Fife, and Forfar are tried. ^here are|
besides the magistrates and council, two popularly-elected
public commissions, the water and po ice commissions.
Under the former, the city is abundantly supplied with
water filtered and raised from the Tay, the whole expense
of which was defrayed in 1857 by assessments of 2d and
8d in the pound upon places of business and dwelling
houses respectively. In police, paving, hghtmg and
cleansimr the latter commission expended during the
year 1856-7, L.4131. The general police assessment was
^’Alttough divested of much of their ancient political
power and shorn of much of them former state and dign. y
the o-uildry incorporation and the incorporated trades still
occupy a prominent and important p ace in the civic eco-
nf the hureh. The incorporations are the hammer-
menf bakers, glovers, wrights, tailors, fleshers, shoemakers,
”nd weavers! Several of the incorporations are possessed
of considerable property. The dean of guild and the con¬
vener of the trades are ex officiis members of most of the
local boards. Most of the trades possess interesting relics
of departed greatness. The principal of these is a very old
flao. called “ the blue blanket,” in the keeping of the con¬
vener This old banner, tradition saith, was borne in the
Crusades by a body of burgesses from Perth. The glovers
also have preserved in their repositories various interesting
mementos; among the rest, a morris-dancer’s dress, with
Perth.
454
PER
PER
Perth- cap and bells, in which some worthy follower of St Bartho-
shire. lomew exhibited for the diversion of Charles I. on the 8th
of July 1633. This incorporation also possesses an antique
flag, bearing the date 1604, said also to have been borne by
some of the craft at the Crusades. The chief memorial
preserved by the guildry is the Incorporation Record from
1452 to 1631—a venerable volume in a complete state of
preservation, in which are inscribed the autographs of James
R., 1601; Charles R., July 24, 1650; Victoria R., 1842;
and Albert, 1842.
The burgh has a very large property and revenue, the
former derived chiefly from the favour and munificence of
several of the Scottish sovereigns. The property of the burgh
consists of lands, feus, fishings, mills and waterfalls, dues,
seats in the churches, houses, &c.; and its estimated value
is L.97,600. The debt of the city, after deducting assets,
was, at the 30th September 1857, L.16,518, 2s. 8d. Ihe
revenue for the year 1856-7 was L.6052, 13s. 9d., and the
expenditure L.3809, 11s. 7d.
In 1856 the navigation and harbour commission was
merged in the town council, and the financial affairs of the
one conjoined to those of the other (the accounts, however,
of the two concerns being kept separate and distinct), by
act of Parliament. This, although originally contemplated,
was latterly necessitated by the untoward condition of the
finances of the commission. In 1854 the obligations of
the harbour commission amounted, in round numbers, to
L.82,000; while the revenue, in consequence of the suc¬
cessful competition of the railways, had fallen to a trifle
over L.1400, being about L.2300 short of its annual lia¬
bility in the item of interest. The city, being by the Na¬
vigation Acts placed in the position of cautionary obligant
for the commission, and the surplus revenue of the one not
being equal to the deficiency of the other, an act of Par¬
liament was obtained by the town council consolidating the
two bodies, with their respective debts and revenues, and
converting their conjoined obligations into bonds of annuity
bearing a fixed annual interest of 3£ per cent., and also
containing power to levy assessments upon the property
within the ancient royalty not exceeding 4d. in the pound.
The nett obligations on account of the navigation and har¬
bour, at 30th September 1857, was L.85,949, 8s. 2d. But
so favourable a turn had the finances of the united bodies
taken, that at the same date of the second year of the
operation of the act the conjoined surplus revenue over
expenditure amounted to L.1022, 9s. 9d.
The large obligations of the navigation and harbour
commission were incurred in the construction of new quays,
and in the deepening of the river. These works cost to¬
gether about L.65,000. Besides this, however, the sum of
L.31,500 was awarded to the proprietors for injury done by
the operations to the salmon-fishings. 1 here is now about
2000 feet of quay berthage at Perth ; and ships of 300 tons
register can easily ascend the river, the tide rising from 13
to 19 feet at the harbour. For several years the works of
the commission fully realized the most sanguine expecta¬
tions of their promoters ; but, as already remarked, the
trade of the place has of late been very much diverted
from this channel.
The population of Perth, by the last census (1851), is
23,835 ; inhabited houses, 1991; parliamentary constitu¬
ency, 933 ; municipal constituency (1856-7), 636 ; annual
value of real property in 1855-6, L.62,493.
PERTH-SHIRE, one of the most extensive and beauti¬
ful counties in Scotland, is almost circular in form, and
occupying nearly the centre of the kingdom. Its extreme
length from E. to W. is about 70 miles, and its greatest
breadth from N. to S. is about 66 miles. Its area is given
at 2835 square miles, of which more than 50 are of water.
Of the 1,814,063 acres forming its superficial contents,
267,397 were returned in 1857 as under tillage. Many
acres are under wood ; and a vast extent of highland Perth-
country affords grazing, pasture, and preserves for game; shire,
while only a small proportion of the county can be said to
be wholly barren and unproductive. On the E. Perthshire is
bounded by the counties of Forfar, Fife, and Kinross ; on the
N. by Inverness and Aberdeen ; on the S. by Stirling and
Clackmannan; and on the W. by the shires of Argyll and
Dumbarton. Its ancient and still popularly-known divi¬
sions are,—Monteith, Athole, Strathearn, Breadalbane, Ran-
noch, Stormont, Perth proper, and Gowrie, to which some
add Balquhidder and Glenorchy. It is under the jurisdic¬
tion of a sheriff and two substitutes, one of whom resides at
Perth, and the other at Dunblane. There are within its
boundaries seventy-eight parishes, or portions of parishes,
some of them running into other adjacent counties.
Perthshire is distinguished amongst the counties of Scot¬
land for the rich, varied, and picturesque beauty of its sur¬
face. From the commanding range of the Grampians, and
numerous other secondary elevations, the country slopes
gently down into extensive tracts of rich and fertile land,
beautifully diversified, and adorned with wood and water,
hill and dale, in every possible combination. Where the
elevated ranges gradually disappear in the champaign coun¬
try, nothing can exceed the rich and undulating character
of the scenery, broken into noble and irregular valleys, or
spreading out into extensive alluvial tracts, watered by
streams of almost every size and character. The county of
Perth is now generally divided into the Highland and Low¬
land divisions, the surface of the former being far more
extensive than that of the latter. The fertile or Lowland
districts lie chiefly, but by no means entirely, towards the
eastern and the southern boundaries of the county. The
fine valley of Strathearn, having the Grampian range on
the N.W., with the Ochils and Sidlaw Hills on the E., tra¬
verses it from N.E. to S.W., and, including certain portions
of the contiguous valleys of the Tay and the Almond,
forms one the richest and most extensive tracts in the
kingdom. Besides the extensive valley of Strathearn,
there are others of considerable dimensions studded with
lakes, and enlivened with streams of every variety of cha¬
racter. Perthshire is likewise distinguished for its noble
ranges of mountains, some of which attain a considerable
elevation. The highest is Ben Lawers, 3992 feet; Ben
More is 3818; Cairn Gower, 3690; and Schehallion,
3613. This last mountain is distinguished by its fine
conoidal outline. Benledi rises to the height of 2381
feet; Ben Ardlanach to that of 3500; and Ben Venu to
that of 3300 ; besides many others of considerable though
inferior altitude.
The lakes and rivers of this county are numerous. The largest
of the lakes are feeders to the Tay, the watershed of the Glen
Tilt mountains bounding the county on the N., and that of the Moor
of Rannoch on the W. The principal lakes that feed the Tay are
lochs Tay, Ericht, Rannoch, Tummel, Lydoch, Garry, Lyon, and
Dochart, besides a great number of smaller lakes, the most part of
which are situated in the district of Rannoch. The chief streams
whose waters find their way into Tay are the Tummel, the Garry, the
Lyon, the Lochy, the Dochart, the Braan, the Isla,the Ericht, and the
Almond. The highest of these lakes is Loch Ericht, hut only about
a third of it is in Perthshire. The next highest in point of situation
is Loch Lydoch ; and the other lakes lying in the Moor of liannoch.
All these lakes and streams abound in fish, some of them contain¬
ing trout of a very fine quality ; and where no natural obstruction
exists, salmon ascend almost to their source. The river Tay is the
principal river, and is said to discharge more water into the ocean
than any river in Britain. Another great drain of the water which
falls in this county is the river Earn, which rises in Loch Earn, and
falls into the estuary of the Tay a few miles above Newburgh. The
streams that fall into this river are numerous, but none of them are
of any great size. The river Forth is the boundary of the county
on the S., and the lakes and streams that empty themselves into it
are numerous and of considerable size; the principal lochs are Voil,
Lubnaig, Katrine, Auchray, Yennachir, Ard, and Monteith. Sal¬
mon are got in considerable numbers both in the Forth and Earn;
PERTH-SHIRE.
455
Perth- but owing to the want of protection to the spawning fish, and the
shire. constant destruction of the young fish in the parr state, they are
/ yearly decreasing, especially in the Forth and its tributaries.
^~ ^ m The Tay is a noble river, and the beautiful scenery through
which it flows, with its crystal waters running over its gravel bed,
and the great volume of water which it is continually carrying to
the sea, entitles it to be called the finest river in Scotland. Loch
Tay is about 16 miles long, and fully a mile broad, and lies nearly
E. and W.; the rivers Lochy and Dochart discharge their waters
into it at its head, the village of Killin being between the two
streams. The scenery here is of the finest description; and also
for 8 miles up Glen Lochy. Salmon ascend the Lochy as far as
the falls of Boreland; and for 10 miles farther up the glen the
river is well stocked with native trout. The river Dochart is a slug¬
gish stream, but a good angling river. Salmon may be taken in
the spring months, and its pearl fishery is well known.
Loch Tay contains salmon, the common trout, and pike. The
annual rental of the Marquis of Breadalbane for the salmon-
fishery has been, since 1828, L.50. Some very fine fish are taken
with the net, during the months of February and March, at Ken-
more, where the river Tay issues from the loch. The Lyon river,
which joins the Tay a little above Weem, is one of the most
inviting streams in the county both for the tourist and angler. It
flows out of Loch Lyon, and after running for one-half of its
length through a hilly and grazing country, it enters a finely-
wooded gorge in the mountains, from which it emerges a little
above Fortingal. There are some of the finest beech trees here to
be seen in Scotland. This glen is almost unknown to tourists, as,
like Glen Lochy, it has no outlet. Loch Lyon is full of very fine
trout, and even salmon reach the loch, and have been caught in it.
Loch Ericht is the largest lake in the county, and is so deep that the
greater part of it never freezes, notwithstanding its high situation ;
and during the heat of summer its water feels intensely cold, while
in winter it is warm. During severe frosts its surface is enveloped
in vapour, from the water giving out its caloric. This lake is full
of the finest trout, especially at its S.W. end, where it is shallow.
The only kinds of fish in its waters are S. fario and S. ferox
the latter are more abundant than in any other lake in the county.
The scenery is of the wildest and grandest description. Ben Alder
rises up perpendicular from the lake to the height of nearly 4000
feet; and a cave overhanging the lake is pointed out where
“ Prince Charlie” hid himself for a season.
Loch Lydoch, in Rannoch Moor, is a beautiful sheet of water
about 6 miles long, and has an island covered with trees, upon which
the sea eagle builds ; in fact the only trees to be found in the moor
are around this lake. It abounds with trout; and so does the river
Gauir, that flows from it into Loch Rannoch. This lake, which re¬
ceives also the waters of Loch Ericht, is Ilf miles long by 1£
broad, and has more the appearance of a Lowland than a Highland
lake. On the N. side its shores are clothed with native birch ; and
on the S. side there are still many miles of the old black wood of
Rannoch, which contains some of the finest natural Scotch fir trees
in the country. The lake is well stored with an excellent kind of
trout, not inferior to Loch Leven, which cut up as red as sea trout;
besides ferox and S. salvelinus or charr. This is a fine lake for the
angler, and liberty can easily be obtained to fish it. The river
Tummel flows from this lake at Kinloch-Rannoch, and falls into
Loch Tummel. Along this part of its course the country around
is strewed with rounded boulders to an extent that is hardly con¬
ceivable. The scenery around the lake is equal to any in the
county; the view from Allean of the lake, the strath, and Ran¬
noch mountains, is very fine. A few miles after leaving the lake
the river rushes over the rocky barrier which forms the falls of
Tummel. Salmon can ascend no higher than this, and a net is sus¬
pended to catch those that make the attempt; which fishing has
been regularly let. If a few pounds were spent in blasting the
rock, the breeding-ground of the salmon would be greatly enlarged,
but this would subject the upper proprietors to close time, which
many of them would not like. The Tummel is joined by the Garry
near Faskally, at the mouth of the far-famed Pass of Killiekrankie,
and after flowing 10 miles, it joins the Tay near Logierait. Loch
T ummel contains fine large trout, although they are not numerous, as
the lake is also stocked with pike, which have never found their
way to any of the lakes farther up. The river Garry flows from
the lake of the same name near Dalnaspidal. It is a picturesque,
brawling stream, and has some salmon in its pools, but its native
trout are small.
The Braan river, which enters the Tay at Inver, near Dunkeld,
is for the greater part of its course rapid, and flows from Loch
Freuchie, near Amulree. This lake is a favourite resort of the
angler, but the trouts are not large. The river Isla empties itself
into the Tay at Mickleour. It rises in Glen Isla in Forfarshire,
and is a rapid-running stream until it enters Strathmore, when its
current for miles is hardly perceptible. Trout are numerous in
its waters, and salmon were once so; but pike and eel are very
plenty, and the want of sufficient protection to the breeding fish
has rendered the salmon-fishing of little value. The Ericht, a pic- v
turesque small stream which flows into the Isla a little below Blair¬
gowrie, was not many years ago famous for its salmon; but its
waters are so poisoned by public works, and the ascent of the
salmon obstructed by dam-dykes, that very few fish are now to be
found in it.
The Almond river enters the Tay a little above Perth, but so
much of its volume of water is abstracted to supply the neighbour-
ing printfields and mills, that very little of it enters the Tay by
its natural channel. Salmon, howrever, find their way up when the
water is in flood; and by the lowering of the fall at Buchanty in
Glen Almond, the fish find a great amount of additional spawning-
ground in the Sma’ Glen.
The river Tay issues from Loch Tay as a large stream, and at
once enters and runs through the fine grounds of the Marquis of
Breadalbane. Having received the waters of the Lyon a little
above Weem, it flows on smoothly until it has to encounter the
rocky chasm at Grantully, where there are some fine salmon pools.
At Logierait its stream is increased by the junction of the Tummel,
which river sends as much water to the ocean as the Tay ; still, at
the meeting of the waters the Tay appears to be very little in¬
creased in volume. A few miles above Dunkeld it enters the
grounds of the Duke of Atholl; and no river scenery can be finer
than what is met with here. The salmon -fishing is very good, but his
grace reserves the whole to himself. The view from the bridge of
Dunkeld arrests the attention of the tourist ; and the scenery on
the banks of the river, as it flows through Marthly grounds, is in¬
ferior to none in its course. Having reached Mickleour, where it
is joined by the Isla, it runs more swiftly, being confined between
steep banks, until it rushes over the Linn of Gampsie at Stobhall.
This fall, when the water is low, may be about 3 feet in height;
but when the water is high, no fall is perceptible. The late Pro¬
fessor Anderson of St Andrews stated, in a paper which he read
before the Literary and Antiquarian Society of Perth, that after
examining the ground with care, it was his opinion that, previous to
the river bursting this barrier, its waters followed the course of
the Isla through Strathmore, and entered the sea at Montrose or
Lunnan Bay. The old bed of the river can yet be distinctly traced
in many places; and the numerous lakes still in existence along the
old channel bear evidence to the professor’s theory. It is a singu¬
lar fact that a number of Stormontfield-marked grilse have been
caught in Lunnan Bay. After passing the linn, the river has to
pass over the most rugged part of its whole course, the fall being -8
feet in the distance of half a mile. This fall in the river has been
taken advantage of for the purpose of driving the machinery of
the large cotton-mills at Stanley, which were originally erected by
the celebrated Arkwright. Opposite these mills, the Zacte that sup¬
plies the Stormontfield bleaching-works is taken off the river; and
a little farther down, the lade that supplies the Luncarty bleach-
field is taken off. A little farther down a remarkable dyke of
trap crosses the river, called the Thistle Brig . this trap y e is
very similar to that at the Linn. The whole of the rocks in this
gorge, from the junction of the Isla with the lay to this bridge,
freSof the old red sandstone formation. About a mile farther
down the river are the Stormontfield saimon rearing-ponds which
have thrown so much light on the natural history of the salmon.
(See article Fisheries.) At the junction of the Almcmd with the
Tay, about 2 miles above Perth, the action of the tffial wave ends
rising at spring-tides little more than half an inch. At low-water
there is a gentle current from Perth bridge to Newburgh, the fall
being about 8 feet. The Tay below Perth is a^passed m beauty
bv no river in the kingdom. Kmnoull Hill, and the castle and
grounds of Kinfauns, afe fine features 1" ^
one side; while on the other are the venerable ruins of Elcho Castle
and Moncrieff Hill. Six miles below Dundee the fay enters the
^eforectTg the description of this fine river, a few words will be
necessary upon its salmon-fisheries. The net-fishing fim salmon
necessary p considerable importance in a na-
T Tnoint^f view nJl only from the quantity, but from the qua-
Uty of the fish. Until the year 1828, the net-fishing closed on the
26tfi August; but after that time an act was obtained which
altered the time for closing to the 14th of September. The whole as-
sessed annual rental of the Tay in 1828 previous to the aUeratmn,
was L 14 574, 10s.; last season (1858) it was L.11,48., 2s. 5d., ai
though in 1852 it hud fullen a, low a, L.7973, 5s. This slat, of
matters having alarmed the proprietors of the fishing, a new
salmon bill was carried through Parliament this last session mak¬
ing the close time to last from the 26th August until the 1st 1 eb-
ruarv for net-fishing, and extending the rod-fishing until the 1st
October This measure has already had the effect of raising the
rental nearly up to that of 1828, besides making the rod-fishing very
Perth¬
shire.
PEKTH- SHIRE.
456
Perth- valuable, which before had fallen so low that very little of the
shire. river was let for that purpose. Since the nets were taken off this
v y season, on the 26th of August, the river is swarming with salmon,
and anglers have had good sport. Salmon have been caught with
the fly on Lord Gray stations, in the tideway, which the oldest
fishermen acknowledge they have never heard of before. The pro¬
tecting force during close time has also been increased ; and there
is little doubt that in a few years the Tay will become as famous
for its salmon-fishing as it once was.
The river Earn, the second largest drain for the waters of
the county, rises in Loch Earn, and flows through Strathearn
until it reaches the Tay near Abernethy. The upper part of this
strath is of considerable elevation, and consequently, until it is
joined by the Machany river, a little above Trinity Gask, flows for
the most part with a rapid current. Between this part of it and
its junction with the Tay it is more like a canal than a river, and
when flooded does much damage to the crops in the low grounds.
After heavy floods, it generally finds, in various places of its course,
a new channel for itself, which is very hurtful to the land upon
its banks, although much money has been spent upon embank¬
ments. These old courses of the river are full of pike, some of
which attain a great size; ducks and water-fowl also abound in
them. A considerable quantity of salmon are annually caught in
this river. The rental of that part of it near its junction with
the Tay, belonging to the Earl of Wemyss, was, for 1858, L.121;
for 1829, L.166; the rental of the upper proprietors is not ge¬
nerally known. Salmon ascend as high as Loch Earn, and
the best spawning-ground is situated between Crieff and that
lake. Besides Salmo salar, this river is famous for S. trutta, or
sea-trout. S. fario, or common trout, are abundant; and Esox
lucius, or common pike, are far too numerous for a large increase of
the genus Salmo. The Machany is a beautiful little stream, flow¬
ing through the grounds of Lord Strathallan : it is well protected,
and abounds in sea and common trout. Strathearn is second to
no strath in the county for the beauty of its scenery, and in the
lower part of it for the richness of its crops.
The third great drain is the Forth and its tributaries; but as for
the greater part of its course it is the boundary of the shire, it
will be sufficient to glance at those of its tributaries that are in
Perthshire. Loch Katrine, which is about to become the reser¬
voir for supplying the city of Glasgow with water, has been im¬
mortalized by Sir Walter Scott. In this lake there is good fishing ;
it contains S. ferox, common trout, and pike. The scenery is so well
known that no description is required. Lochs Achray and Ven-
nachir are continuations of Katrine, but, in addition to the fish in¬
habiting the latter, a few salmon are found in their waters. The
stream that flows from these lakes joins the river Teith at Callan¬
der. The Teith rises in Loch Lubnaig, a few miles farther up
than the last-named village. Loch Lubnaig is a fine sheet of
water, and abounds in S.ferox and small trout. The Teith contains
a few salmon ; but the salmon-fishing of the Forth and Teith has
fallen off ever since Blair Drummond moss was sent in such quan¬
tities into the river; and no increase can ever be looked for
until such time as the proprietors see it to be their interest to
afford more protection to the spawning fish and the fry. The
water of Allan, which enters the Forth at the Bridge of Allan, not
many years ago used to be highly esteemed by anglers for the
multitude of its sea-trout, but owing to the wholesale destruction
of the fry in the parr state that is carried on, it contains now very
few. The Forth proper takes its rise from a large spring near the
foot of Ben Lomond on the N. side. The spring is so large that
from the first it is a considerable stream ; but after flowing until it
reaches Aberfoyle, it receives the waters that issue from the upper
and lower Lochs Ard. Lochs Ard are the favourite fishing-ground
of the anglers of the west, and contain trout of a very fine
quality. The Forth on the whole is a sluggish-running river,
and contains salmon, sea-trout, common trout, pike, perch, an
66 In the more elevated districts of the county, where the mountain
ranges slope down into the level country, and amongst the nume¬
rous glens which penetrate these in all directions, the climate is
charged with moisture in a higher degree, the winters are onger
and more severe, the snow frequently lies longer on. the groun ,
and the spring is generally later than in the lower districts of t e
county. The highest summer temperature rarely exceeds 65 , an
the mean temperature, in three different situations in the county
(none of them, however, more than 150 feet above the sea), has been
found to be 47°. The cloudy character of the atmosphere in the
mountainous districts, by intercepting the light of the sun, retards
the ripening of the crops, and accumulates moisture, which tends
to lower the average temperature. The district of Perth proper is
said to be the least humid, the average rain-fall being only 23
inches; but in the Carse of Gowrie, on the shores of the Firth of
Tay, the mean quantity of rain for twelve years was 24J inches ; at
Perth, for a period of six years, it was SO’SO inches; and at Bel- Perth-
mont in Strathmore, for thirty years, it was as high as 30-40 shire,
inches. The extensive drainage, executed by various proprietors, v „
has no doubt tended considerably to ameliorate the climate.
As the county may, from its external configuration, so it may
also from its geological structure, be divided essentially into
Highland and Lowland divisions. The former consists mainly of
metamorphic schists, clay, mica, chlorite, and hornblende slates,
and gneiss; while the latter is made up of the old red sandstone
series. The Lowland or southern division of the county is made up
of a broad belt of the old red sandstone, which stretches right
across Scotland from the Clyde, between Dumbarton and Helens¬
burgh, to the E. coast between Stonehaven and Dundee, Over
this belt lie the great valleys or plains of Strathmore, Strathearn,
and the Carse of Gowrie. The old red sandstone is bounded on the
N. by a very narrow belt, varying from half a mile to 3 miles
in breadth, of clay and other slates,—which belt stretches pa¬
rallel to that last described; also from the Clyde about Helensburgh
to the E. coast at Stonehaven. North of this there is a broad band
of mica-slate likewise passing across Scotland from the W. to the
E. coast. This is succeeded, farther N. still, in the Rannoch dis¬
trict, by quartz rock and gneiss; the latter forming the geological
basis of the greater part of the north of Scotland. The sand¬
stone forms level plains; the slates rise into the majestic range of
the Grampians. Here and there the strata jf sandstone or slate
are penetrated by erupted hills of granite or trap,—the former
chiefly in the Highland, the latter in Lowland districts.
The northern or Highland part of the county is made up chiefly
of the broad range of the Grampians, which at the same time
form a natural northern boundary. The slates of which they are
chiefly composed, are very variable in structure ; passing into
each other by insensible gradations. Thus, the clay-slate passes
frequently into the graywacke on the one”hand, and mica-slate on
the other; mica-slate graduates into gneiss, and the latter into
quartz rock. One consequence of this is, unequal disintegration by
exposure to the weather; and a result of this again is, the peaked
or “ aiguille-like” form of many of the Perthshire mountains. The
clay-slate series may be well studied about Dunkeld. Near Bir-
nam, and on both sides of the river, are extensive quarries of roof¬
ing slate of fine quality. The hills on both sides of the river,
where the railway from Perth enters the pass or ravine at Birnam,
are formed of clay-slate. The clay-slate may here be found passing
into graywacke, mica, hornblende, talc, and chlorite slates. Gar¬
nets are common in the micaceous slates here ; while micaceous iron
ore and crystallized chlorite are to be met with at Birnam quar¬
ries. The mica-slate about Dunkeld frequently also contains
tourmaline, sometimes calc-spar; and on the S. side of Craig-y-
Barns there is a vein of copper pyrites. There are abundant evi¬
dences about Dunkeld of the depositary action of water in pre-
Adamite ages. There are numerous hillocks and mounds of gravel
and sand, excellent sections of which, as well as of the clay-slates,
may be seen in the railway cuttings. M‘Culloch regards the valley
above Dunkeld as having once been a lake. The clay and mica
slate series may be easily and satisfactorily studied in the classic
regions of the Trossachs and Loch Katrine, in the vicinity of Cal¬
lander, to which there is now ready communication by railway
with Edinburgh and Glasgow. The well-known Ben Ledi is formed,
on its N.W. side, of mica-slate, and on the S.E. of clay-slate, which,
as at Dunkeld and elsewhere, frequently passes into graywacke.
Clay-slate is quarried on Ben Yoirlich, another hill in the same
neighbourhood. Of the Breadalbane hills, Ben Lawers consists
chiefly of mica-slate at its base, and skirting Loch Tay this is in-
terstratified with beds of limestone. About Killin the mica-slate
passes into chlorite slate, as in Craig Chailliach, which again is
frequently penetrated by, or interstratified with, quartz rock. The
latter, as well as the chlorite slate, abounds in beautiful needles of
the rare mineral rutile. A micaceous slate, which occurs along with
the chlorite slate on Craig Chailliach, contains hornblende and
large cubical pyrites. At Tyndrum the mica-slate joins or passes
into quartz rock, and the junction is marked by the occurrence of
a rich metalliferous vein, the basis being galena, with which,
however, are also associated arseniate of cobalt, black cobalt ore,
silver, copper pyrites, zinc, blende, sulphate of baryta, and calca¬
reous spar. This vein is traceable for at least 10 miles; it has
long been worked for its lead by the Marquis of Breadalbane, to
whom it belongs. About Taymouth the slates have the talcose
character, and sometimes contain asbestos. Schehallion in Ran¬
noch may be regarded as classic ground, geologically speaking,
since this mountain was selected by Drs Maskelyne and Charles
Hutton as a site for their experiments on the density of the earth.
The upper portion of the hill consists of quartz rock, the lower of
mica and hornblende slates. Passing from the Breadalbane to the
Atholl mountains and valleys, Glen Tilt at once arrests our
attention, It was here that the celebrated Dr James Hutton
P E ft T H - S H I R E.
457
Pprth- first obtained physical proof of the correctness of his views on
chire the igneous origin of granite. The penetration of quartz rock,
gneiss, limestone, and various schists, by granite, may be seen at
various points in the glen. This glen is further famed for its
marble; the greater part of which is white, and associated with
steatite and serpentine ; but a portion of which is also of a beauti¬
ful flesh colour, with radiating masses of actinolite, asbestos, tre-
molite, and sahlite, occur in the limestone of this district.^ Actino¬
lite slate occurs sometimes, interstratified with gneiss, in the valley
of the Garry. Kyanite occurs in Cairn Lia ; fluor spar, rutile,
crystallized mica, and chlorite, in Ben-y-Gloe. This hill, as well as
Ben Yrachie and Cairn Gower, consists of quartz rock, with mica-
slate and gneiss. Besides Glen Tilt and Loch Tay, limestone also
occurs about the Pass of Leny and Aberfoyle, in the western part
of the district, and here it is occasionally wrought for agricultural
* We have already mentioned casually, that occasional outbursts, or
erupted masses of granite occur throughout the district. At Com-
rie in the Lochearn district, granite occurs both in isolated
erupted masses, and in the form of a couple of long and large veins
or dykes. There is no granitic centre in Perthshire at all. It does
not distinctly appear whether there is any connection between this
geological phenomenon and the frequent occurrence of earthquakes,
for which Comrie is so famous ; but the latter would seem traceable
to causes acting at no great distance below the surface.
The Lowland or southern division of the district is partly bounded
on the S., partly broken up by the ranges of the Ochils and Sid-
laws. These may be regarded as branches of the same great trunk.
The Ochils are generally regarded as commencing about Stirling,
at the Bridge of Allan, and as terminating at Perth. Here they
may be considered as dividing into two main branches or continua¬
tions, one of which runs down the S. side of the Tay, and termi¬
nates at Perry-Port-on-Craig, constituting Norman Law, Clatchart
Craig, and the other hills so prominent about Newburgh. The
other stretches along the N. side of the Tay from Perth to Mont¬
rose, and divides the great valleys of Strathmore and the Carse of
Cowrie ; this is generally known by the name of the Sidlaw range.
These hills, by whatever name known, are all trappean in their
structure, consisting at various points of every gradation and in¬
termixture of basalt, greenstones, amygdaloids, porphyries, com¬
pact felspar, tufas, and breccias. The variable structure of some
of these hills is very interesting. Moncrieff and Kinnoull Hills,
near Perth, are fine mural precipices of trap, rising abruptly from
the old red sandstone on the S., and sloping gently towards the N.
They run parallel to and closely resemble each other. Moncriett
Hill consists of greenstones, basalt, porphyries, and tufas, passing
into each other. Its basalt and greenstones are sometimes ob¬
scurely columnar; a phenomenon not unfrequently observed in
other hills of this range. Good specimens of the traps of Mon¬
crieff Hill may be procured from the heaps of rubbish thrown up
around the ventilating shaft of the tunnel of the. Scottish Central
Railway, which pierces the hill between the Friartown of Perth
and the village of Craigend. These specimens here consist, in great
measure, of amygdaloids and tufas, frequently intermixed with
much free earth (chlorite). Kinnoull Hill is still more variable in
its structure, consisting of basalts, greenstones, porphyries, amyg¬
daloids, tufas, and breccias. Of these, the amygdaloid is perhaps
the most interesting, from its abounding in agates and chalcedony
calc spar, and drusy cavities lined with amethyst and other forms
of quartz. Its basis varies from a basalt to a hardened clay. Kin¬
noull Hill has long been celebrated for its agates, excellent speci¬
mens of which may be seen in the shops of the Perth lapidaries.
Specimens are not readily found in situ, from the perpendicular
and rugged character of the cliffs, but they are frequently to be
found on the banks of the Tay between Barnhill and Kinfauns.
Chlorite is particularly abundant in all the trap rocks about
Perth, frequently in nodules of considerable size; sometimes filling
what have been cavities, or diffused through a brecciated amygda¬
loid. In addition to the Ochils and Sidlaws, which form a sort of
backbone of trap to the lowland district of Perthshire, the old red
sandstone is pierced by numerous dykes or veins of trap, sometimes
of such extent that they can be traced across the whole length or
breadth of the district. Hutton speaks of one as running from a little
to the S. of Crieff, by Lynedoch and Campsie Linn, in a line N.L.
through Strathmore, for about 3 miles. When it comes in contact
with limestone the trap sometimes passes into serpentine. Lime¬
stone occurs but sparingly in the lowland district. It is, or has
been worked, however, at Meigle and Cargill. In connection with
some such trap dykes or veins as have been above described, the
mineral spring of Pitcaithly is supposed to occur. This, according
to the analysis of the late Professor Thomas Thomson of Glasgow,
contains chiefly the chlorides of calcium and sodium, and the sulphate
of lime. Having probably some similar geological relation or origin
is the mineral spring of Crieff, or more properly of Cowgask, near
VOL. XVII.
Crieff. It was only discovered some eight or ten years ago, and has
not yet become so popular or fashionable as it undoubtedly deserves.
The water is of the same character as that of Pitcaithly, Airthrey _
(Bridge of Allan), and Dunblane. According to the analysis
of the late Professor Thomas Thomson of Glasgow, the Crieff or
Cowgask mineral water contains chiefly the chlorides of calcium,
sodium, and magnesium, and the sulphate of lime. According to
Professor Christison it contains about 640 grains of saline matter
per gallon,—that is, nearly 1 per cent. Great efforts have been
made of late years, and are still being made, by the townspeople
to render Crieff all that can be desired as a residence for inva¬
lids requiring the use of the waters. Before leaving the traps we
must not omit to refer to Glen Farg, the amygdaloid of which
abounds in zeolites, for wdiich indeed this locality has long
been famous. They consist chiefly of analcime, mesotype, stilbite,
and prehnite.
The old red sandstone of the Carse of Gowrie and Strathmore
consists essentially of the three following beds or divisions 1. A
coarse conglomerate, which may be well seen in some of the river
gorges, as at Invermay and Craighall, Blairgowrie, both of which
ravines or glens are celebrated for the beauty of their scenery
the former being the subject of Mallet’s song of the ‘‘ Birks of In¬
vermay.” At Blairgowrie the imbedded stones are chiefly purple
amygdaloids, and other rocks of the trap series. A finer conglo¬
merate may also be seen in the building-stones of Perth bridge.
2. A gray sandstone, which forms the basis of the old red sandstone
of the Carse of Gowrie. It may be seen at Dupplin and Dunning
in Strathearn. 3. A bright red-spotted sandstone, which lies above
the last named, and which is quarried at Inchture, Dunbarnie,
Pitfour, and Clashbennie. The two latter quarries are celebrated
for their fossil fish, by which this sandstone has been identified, as
to its age and position, with the sandstones of the valley of the
Eden in Fife. Clashbennie, in particular, is almost classic ground:
it was here that the first and finest specimen of the Holoptychius
nobilissimus was found, which specimen is now deposited in the Bri¬
tish Museum. The quarry is about half a mile distant from the
Glencarse station of the Perth and Dundee Railway, on the right
side of the road between St Madoes and Errol; it is therefore
easily accessible. But unfortunately it has not been worked for
years, and few of the scales of the Holoptychius are now to be had.
The beds of dark-red coarse sandstone, containing the scales as ori¬
ginally found, and as they were found by the writer several years
ago, cannot now be got at, the section being vertical, or nearly so,
with a deep, large pool of water below. Scales may, however, oc¬
casionally be picked up among the debris, or purchased from the
children of neighbouring cottars for a trifle. On a recent visit, the
writer found that a new part of the quarry had just been opened.
The stone exposed was much lighter in colour and coarser in tex¬
ture than that in which the scales were first d^covered It wa
interlaid with beds of what is locally called keel, ^rdened
ferruginous clay. Some layers also had a conglomerate character,
he imbedded nodules consisting chiefly of the ferruginous slate-clay
just mentioned. Among the conglomerate chiefly, scales and ,ch
thyodorulites of the Holoptychius were not U"C0"“.b^^ dk-
were generally smaller, and with the groovings or.suki^le^ dis^
tinctly marked than in those former y oun ' / j SDar)
scales was generally replaced by carbonate of hme_(calc spaij.
C. bon^iu. impressions .re comp.r.ti.ely common » =
of ,be old red sandstone: sSSori!?
be of vegetable origin, u considerable doubt and discussion
determined. Another source of considerable^o ^ ^ ^
has been the yellowish 01 pal ^ rmarries of the Carse
sandstone, as it occurs a^nC ltp^ ^ that the presence of minute
of Gowrie. ^ey are not now" visible, may Have
organisms of ^f^rging the colour over limited spots
T mieT The old red sandstone is sometimes of the charac-
or localities. cnnsiderable proportion of carbonate
T/e veT-v”»Me «o the f.rmer Send-
of lime, ihis ren Qtanlev on the Tay; near Perth; Lyne-
doenhTonrIl>0“™mon"»lso *"d ■“ "“r
^Superimposed upon the ^(djed^sapdeton^ein^tbeyarse of Gowrie
!r 'vi'd inio ttetollowingbeds or strata1. A boulder clay, which
S“e b?above the pt*-*"1 high-water mark, is a bed of marine
shells These consist entirely of existing littoral species ben,g
mostlv made up in specimens which we have examined, of the Car-
r«lSe The pea" would appear to have given rise to some
discussion among geologists as to its nature and origin. J'he late
Perth¬
shire.
458
P E R T H - S H I R E.
Perth¬
shire.
Professor Fleming of Edinburgh has described it as a submerged
forest, due to subsidence of the banks of the Tay; but Dr Buist of
Bombay controverts this idea. It may be examined about Errol
and Pitfour; and throughout the Carse it will be found to be of
pretty uniform dimensions and contents.
On the lessons taught by the structure of the Carse clay we can¬
not here enter. It is supposed by some local geologists, who have
bestowed much attention on the subject, that at one time a depres¬
sion of the land below sea or estuary water occurred, and that this
was followed, at some considerable lapse of time, by an elevatory
action. The existence of the peat—its present situation, and the
presence in it of roots apparently in situ, and of the leaves and
fruit of forest trees, are explained on this hypothesis. Evidence
is very contradictory. Remains of boat-rings and staples ha\e
been found considerably below, as well as considerably above, the
present river or sea level, apparently coeval in date, and of course
belonging to the human epoch. It is impossible to admit, as some
would have us to do, these as proofs of movements of elevation
and depression, occurring at the same time and in the same place.
Doubtless much error has been introduced by traditions which hat e
not been founded on facts.
There are few counties in Scotland which can boast of the same
variety and richness of their flora as Perthshire. In the northern
and southern divisions of the county are to be met with some of the
rarest plants in Scotland. Ben Lawers, for instance, is, botanically
speaking, classic ground; and its alpine flora is perhaps as rich
and rare as that of the more famed Clova. AY e cannot pretend to
give anything like a vidimus of the flora of Perthshire. All that
we can here attempt is to give a brief enumeration of the rarer
plants only of the district, leaving the reader to infer therefrom
the character of the more ordinary vegetation.
Referring first to the northern or Highland section of the county,
Ben Lawers alone is the habitat of the following rare alpines
Saxifraga, cernua, S. rivularis, Erigeron unijlorus (which is proba¬
bly a mere form of E. alpinus'), Veronica fruticulosa, Eriophorum
capilatum (according to Don, who, however, has probably con¬
founded it with E. vaginatwrn), Carex rupestris, C. curta, C. ustulata,
Woodsia hyperborea, Poa nemoralis, var. y (of Hooker and Arnott s
Flora'), Triticum caninum, var. p>, Cy stop ter is montana, Salix arbus-
cula, var. /3, Bartsia alpina, Ur aba verna, var. /3, D. rupestris, Sa-
gina saxatilis. On other members of the Breadalbane range of
mountains occur the following:—Cherleria sedoides, Arenaria verna
(Mael Duncrosig), A. rubella, Cerastium alpinum, Potentilla alpes-
tris, Sibbaldia procumbens, Rosa involuta (near Meggarnie in Lien
Lyon), R. caesia (valleys), Epilobium alsinifolium, E. alpinum, Saxi¬
fraga stellaris, S. nivalis, S. oppositifolia, Hieracium pallidum, II.
strictum, Erigeron alpinus, Azalea procumbens, Arctostaphylos alpina,
Myosotis alpestris, Veronica saxatilis, Bartsia alpina (Maelgraedha,
Corrach-Uachdar, &c.), Melampyrum sylvaticum, Plantago maritima
(Glen Dochart, and also on summits of highest mountains), Salix
arenaria, var. a, S. Myrsinites, var. ^(Craig Chailliach), S. procum¬
bens, S. herbacea, S. lanata (Mael-Uachdar, near Killin), Juncus cas-
taneus, J. trifidus, J. biglumis, J. triglumis, Scirpus sylvaticus (about
Killin), Kobresia caricina (Shroine-ach-Lochan), Carex Bcenninghau-
siana (Killin), C. atrata, C.rigida, C. saxatilis, G. vaginata (hraig
Chailliach and Corrach-Uachdar near Killin), C. capillans, Phleum
alpinum, Cystopteris montana (Corrach-Uachdar, &c.), Equisetum
palustre, var. /3. The following grow on the Atholl mountains:
Carex capillaris (Ben-y-Gloe), Crepis succiscefolia (balls of lum-
mel), Gnaphalium sylvaticum, var. (Ben Chat near Blair Atholl),
Campanula rapunculoides (Blair Atholl), Menziesia ccerulea (on
the “ Sow of Atholl,” Dalnaspidal), Polygonum verticillatum (Blair
Atholl), Tilia grandifolia (Blair Atholl), Rubus arcticus (Ben-y-
Gloe), Cryptogramma crispa (on Birnam Hill), Genista anglica, 2W-
entalis europcea, Listera cordata, Callitriche autumnalis (Loch o
Cluny), Lactuca virosa (Dunkeld), Stratiofes aloides (Loch of Clunj ),
Gymnadenia conopsea, Habenaria albida, Butomus umbellatus (Loch
of Cluny, introduced), Asplenium alternifolium and A. septentrionale
(Stenton Crag, Dunkeld). To these may be added as growing in
the Highland division of Perthshire—Pimpinella magna (banks of
the Teith), Linncea borealis (in fir woods in different parts of the
county), Salix ambigua, var. «, Elatine hexandra (Loch Ruisky near
Callander), Silene acaulis, Ulex nanus (Dalguise), Potentilla opaca
(Braes of Balquhidder). In the lowland division of Perthshire we
find its flora equally rich and varied. The most interesting plants
of this section are probably Scheuchzeria palustris (abundant in a
marsh on the side of the Methven road, 4 miles from Perth), Monesis
grandiflora (abundant in a fir wood about 1J to 2 miles beyond the
village of New Scone), Teucrium charnasdrys (Methven Wood), and
Turritis glabra (Redgorton). But the following plants, also, are of
great interest. In the Methven district, including the woods and
grounds of Methven and Lynedoch and the valley of the Almond,
occur Corallorrhiza innata, Epipactis grandijlora, E. ensifolia, and
E. latifolia, Listera nidus-avis, Paris quadrifolia, and Erigeron al¬
pinus, the seeds of which would appear to have been carried by
the Almond from the Breadalbane mountains. The Redgorton dis¬
trict, which includes a portion of the banks of the Tay, possesses
Peplis Portula, Nuphar lutea, Nymphcea alba, Thalictrum minus, Hy¬
pericum humifusum, H. hirsutum, H. pulchrum, H. quadrangulum,
II. dubium, Cichorium Intybus, Bidens tripartita, Cnicus eriophorus,
O. heterophyllus, Trientalis europcea, Adoxa moschatellina, Chelido-
nium majus, Habenaria viridis, H. bifolia, and Listera ovata. In the
Carse of Gowrie district, which includes the salt marshes on the
banks of the Tay, between Perth and Dundee, the alluvial plain of
the carse proper, and the Braes of the Carse” or the southern de¬
clivities of the Sidlaw range of hills, are to be found Galium sac-
charatum, Cynoglossum sylvaticum, Calamintha Acinos, Poterium San-
guisorba, Pyrola rotundifolia and P. media, Lotus corniculatus var.
tenuifolia, Centaurea scabiosa, Stachys arvensis, S. palustris, Galeop-
sis Ladanum, Ranunculus hirsutus, Chrysosplenium alternifolium,
Leonurus Cardiaca, Scrophularia vernalis, Typha angustifolia, and
Dianthus Armeria. In the Kinnoull and Perth district, which in¬
cludes the hills of Kinnoull, Moncrieff, and Craigie, and the Glen
of Balthayock, occur Ceterach ofjicinarum, Sagina ciliata, Lychnis
Viscaria, Geranium columbinum, Sedum anglicum, S. album, Poten¬
tilla argentea, P. reptans. In the Strathearn district, including
Invermay, Dupplin, and Glen Farg, occur Bentaria bulbifera, Bo-
ronicum Pardalianches and plantagineum, Listera nidus-avis, Rumex
alpinus, Mentha viridis, M. piperita, Lychnis Viscaria, Betonica offi¬
cinalis. To the foregoing we may add Nepeta Cataria, between
Culross and Kincardine, on the Forth; Viscum album, Mickleour
Woods, introduced ; Galium pusillum, Ochil and Strathblane Hills ;
Bipsacus sylvestris, abundant on Kinnoull Hill", Lactuca virosa, ot
great size, on the talus at the foot of Kinnoull Hill; Hieracium
strictum, Ochils ; Cnicus arvensis, Culross, on the Forth ; Boronicum
Pardalianches, island at the junction of Almond and Tay ; Campa¬
nula latifolia, Invermay Woods ; C. glomerata, banks of Tay, near
confluence of Almond; Thalictrum minus ft majus, island at junction
of Almond and Tay ; Helleborus fcetidus, Scone Woods ; Hypericum
barbatum, according to Don, at side of a hedge near Aberdalgie,
Strathearn; Ornithopus perpusillus, near Perth; Agrimonia agri-
monioides, Dundee road, near Perth ; Vida tetrasperma, Ruthven,
near Perth ; Senecio aquaticus, Scirpus triqueter, and S. lacustris,
marshes on the Tay, immediately below Barnhill Toll; Astragalus
glycyphyllus and Vicia sylvatica, banks of Almond, a short way
above its junction with the Tay.
Equally interesting with the Phanerogamic is the Cryptogamic
vegetation of the district; but more than a mere passing allusion,
want of space compels us to omit.
In a county of so great extent, and possessing such a variety of
surface, considerable diversity must exist in the character of the
soil. The carse or alluvial lands on the shores of the Frith of Tay
have long been celebrated for their fertility. They are considered
as the joint produce of river and sea deposition for a series of ages.
The general character of the soil is that of a rich clay, very deep,
in some places alternating with layers of peat, and having sand and
marine deposits at the bottom. This soil is not wholly alluvial,
being sometimes mixed with the debris of trap-rocks, and also of
the sandstone, which, as already mentioned, forms a geological cha¬
racteristic of the lowland districts of Perthshire. Considerable
tracts of this inferior description of alluvial soil are found accom¬
panying the courses of the principal rivers, and extend into the
upper portions of Strath Tay, Strath Airdle, and Strath Tummel.
A soil composed of clay and sand, and called by agriculturists a
till, extends along a vast tract of this county from E. to W., and is
supposed to be formed from the red sandstone prevalent in that
district. Peat is to be met with almost everywhere in Perthshire;
that known by the name of Flanders Moss is said to extend over
10,000 acres, and is amongst the largest continuous tracts of this
description in the United Kingdom.
In the arable districts of this county, such as the Carse of Gowrie,
and the fertile lands skirting part of the course of its principal
rivers, the modes of agriculture and management of farms are
much the same as in the other agricultural counties of Scotland.
Drainage has been effected to a very large extent; new discoveries
and inventions in the theory and practice of tillage are freely
adopted, and the spirit of improvement and enterprise very fully
pervades the agricultural population. The arable farms vary in
extent from 50 to 500 acres and upwards: and in the Carse of
Gowrie the rents are as high as in any part of the kingdom.
Wheat is largely raised on the best soils, and not unsuccessfully
even in several of the Highland districts. In the wheat-growing
soils this crop usually alternates with beans and peas, barley, hay,
and oats. The agricultural statistics of Scotland give the number
of acres in this county under the different kinds of crop in 1857 as
follows:—Wheat, 25,638 ; barley, 18,802 ; oats, 64,084; rye, 77 ;
here, 655; beans, 3949; peas, 301; vetches or tares, 1241; tur¬
nips, 33,313 ; potatoes, 17,482 ; mangold, 33; carrots, 32; cabbage,
Perth¬
shire.
1
.PER
Perth- 42; rape, 8 ; flax, 15 ; turnip-seed, 205 ; other grain or root crops,
shire 17 ; hare or summer fallow, 1840 ; grass and hay under rotation,
j 99,656. The pasture-farms in the higher parts of the county are
^ ^ large, and raise great numbers of sheep. Other descriptions ot live
stock are also largely cultivated. Dairy farming does not form a
prominent feature in the rural economy of this county. In some
favoured spots orchards succeed well, many of them are very *arSe»
and their produce is highly celebrated. Perthshire is remarkable
for the great extent and beauty of its woods. Of these, many are
of natural wood, chiefly oak. But extensive plantations of various
kinds of trees have been made during the last 50 or 60 years by
several proprietors, especially by the- late Duke of Atholl, whose
planting operations were carried on upon the most extensive scale,
at once beautifying and enriching one of the finest parts of t e
county. To him Perthshire is indebted for the introduction ot the
larch, which has been found singularly adapted to the climate and
soil. The plantations of this tree have thriven amazingly, and are
of great extent and value. In 1674 the valued rental ot Perthshire
was L.28,324 sterling; in 1815 the annual value of assessed property
amounted to L.555,552 sterling; and in 1858 the valuation made
up in terms of the recent Valuation Act amounted to L.677,114,
9s. 9d. . .
This county is particularly rich in splendid seats and mansions
belonging to the great proprietors. Of these, the most remarkable
are Taymouth Castle, the palace of Scone, Kinfauns Castle, Murthly
House, Dupplin Castle, Bossie Priory, and Blair Castle. Castle
Huntly and Blair Castle are fine specimens of the old baronial and
castellated habitations of the ancient lords of the soil; and Doune
Castle is considered as one of the finest ruins of its kind in Scot¬
land. Perthshire is not remarkable for antiquities, secular or
ecclesiastical. Druidical circles and Roman remains are found in
various places. Of the former, one circle almost entire, called
by the country people “ Standing Stanes,” formerly existed at
Craigmakerran, the property of the guildry of Perth; but about
40 years ago it was barbarously destroyed, and the stones blasted
for the purpose of being employed in the erection of a farm¬
steading. Before this act of vandalism was committed, the circle
in question, which stood on a projecting crag about 6 miles from
Perth, on the Isla road, was perhaps one of the most perfect of the
kind in the kingdom. Of the latter, the camp or station at Ar-
doch and that at Comrie are well known, as well as the Roman
road which seems to have connected them. There is another at
Delvin, which is scarcely less remarkable. The ruins of the cathe¬
drals of Dunblane and Dunkeld are also in excellent preservation,
though the architecture is by no means of the highest order. The
tower of Abernethy, which has long puzzled the heads of anti¬
quaries, is unfortunately decaying rapidly, as is also the fine old
abbey of Culross.
In the animal kingdom there is little peculiar to the county.
Game beasts and birds of every description abound in their re¬
spective districts. These are everywhere strictly preserved, and
the sport furnished in the county forms a very considerable item of
its wealth.
The principal towns are,—Perth and Culross, which are royal
burghs; Crieff, Callander, Kincardine, Doune, Comrie, Dunblane,
Auchterarder, Dunkeld, and Blairgowrie. The villages are nume¬
rous, and many of them populous and thriving. The greater part
of Coupar-Angus is included in the county of Perth.
Mills for spinning flax, bleachfields, and calico-printfields, are
numerous; and there are some large establishments for spinning
cotton-yarn at Stanley, near Perth, and at Deanston. Oil-mills are
also to be found in various places. The tanning of leather is car¬
ried on to a considerable extent at Crieff and at Thornhill. V ool
is likewise an article of considerable sale. From the more fertile
districts large quantities of grain are annually brought to market.
Bark and timber, principally larch and oak, also form commercial
articles of no small importance. The produce of its fisheries has
already been noticed as being among the list of exports.
The population of the county of Perth amounted in 1831 to
142,166, being an increase since 1821 of 3919. In 1841 it was
137,457 ; and in 1851, 138,660. In the last-mentioned year_ Perth¬
shire contained in all 196 places of worship, with 84,583 sittings.
Of the former, 59 belonged to the Established Church, 60 to the
Free Church, 35 to the United Presbyterians, 10 to the Episcopa¬
lians, 8 to the Baptists, 7 to the Independents, 5 to the Roman Ca¬
tholics, 3 to the Original Secession, 2 each to the Relief Church and
Wesleyans, and 1 each to several smaller sects. The number of
day schools was 307 (221 public and 86 private), with 21,143 scho¬
lars. There were also 230 Sabbath schools, with 16,294 scholars;
19 evening schools, with 464 scholars; and 10 literary and scien¬
tific institutions, with 693 members. The county sends a member
to Parliament, as does also Perth, the principal city. Culross,
Queensferry, Dunfermline, Inverkeithing, and Stirling, unite in
returning a third.
PER
PERTHES, Christoph Friedrich, an eminent Ger¬
man bookseller, was born at Rudolfstadt on the 21st of
April 1772, known in Germany as “the great hunger
year.” His father, who was secretary of the exchequer to
the house of Rudolf Schwartzburg, died in 1777, and left
his widow and child almost entirely unprovided for. The
fatherless boy had the good fortune, some years afterwards,
to be taken in charge by his maternal uncle, a state official,
and a man of great uprightness and kindliness of disposi¬
tion. After spending in a somewhat unsatisfactory manner
some years at the gymnasium of his native town, he was
apprenticed to one Bohme, a bookseller in Leipzig, on tlm
11th September 1787. Perthes was passionately fond of
reading; and if he no longer found leisure to indulge his
propensity for perusing books, he at least got plenty of
them to carry through the streets of Leipzig. After six
“ happy years of earnest striving,” as he calls it, in the
strict service of this rough, honest old bookseller, relieved
not a little at times by the smiles of his fair daughter Fre-
derika, Perthes, no longer in abject poverty, and full of
enthusiasm, set out for Hamburg in 1793, to assist one
Hoffman, an extensive publisher in that city. After a
three years’ residence there, during which he laboured hard
to improve his education, both by careful study and by
cultivating the friendship of men ol intelligence and woi th,
he entered into partnership with an old fellow-apprentice
named Nessig. This copartnery soon broke up, however,
and Perthes continued on his own account. Book¬
selling with Perthes was, even at this time, something more
than a mere commercial employment. I he moral influence
of the trade he considered to be very great, if only the
booksellers could be brought “ to care more fox' honour
than gold.” He accordingly resolved to aim at a thorough
reform of his profession in Germany. His acquaintance
with literary men was already extensive, and the ready in¬
telligence, thorough business habits, and honest, gema
temper of the young publisher, gradually drew around him
the most eminent literary men of his time in Germany.
He was already held in esteem by the Stolbergs, y
and by Count Reventlow; and he regarded Jacobi, the
German Plato,” with the love and reverence of a father.
On the 2d of August 1797 Perthes married Caroline
daughter of Claudius, editor of the Wandsbecker Bote, and
one of the noblest women Germany has yet kl™wn. in
the following year he entered into partnership wi >
who was his superior both in education an m
ledge of books, and set steadily to work to make their ^
the medium of the literary intercourse o - , j
Europe. The blockade of Hamburg by the french
1803 brought trying times to these enterprising men, w
a lone series of yea's of trouble and anxiety hardly brought
to a 'close. The French having regained possession
Hamburg after their expulsion by the Russians in 1813,
devastated the town, plundered Perthes’ ^op^an c ose
it nn as seauestrated. As one of the ten who were reruseu
nardon for their staunch resistance of foreign oppression,
Perthes was forced to fly. His wife, who, with her child-
i i iBnnfl a refuse at Wandsbeck, was, despite ex-
^"privSn, de^ylnkfu. “that your [Perthes’]
name stands among the ten enemies of the tyrant. By
the exertions of Besser, business was ™8““ed d
1814 Having lost his wife in 1821, Perthes remo e
from Hamburg, and, settling at Gotha, commenced an ex ■
tens!ve business as a publisher, chiefly of works m theology
i • Ejctorv. He brought out the,works of ISeander,
Ullman, Tholuck, and Bunsen in theology, and of Niebuhr
and other eminent writers in history, rsiebuhr had the
Greatest regard for Perthes, always spoke admiringly of hi,
t • orA Pstppmed his iudement of books as
“ glorious power,” and esteemed his judgment of books as
superior to that of most men in Germany. Perthes mar¬
ried a second time in 1825 ; ultimately resigned his business
460 PER
Pertinax to his son Justus, who continues to carry it on ; and having
I! retired to the neighbourhood of Gotha, this good man died
I>erU’ j on the 18th of May 1843.
A highly instructive and entertaining Life of Perthes
was published by his son Clemens Theodor, professor of
law in the university of Bonn, in 3 vols. 8vo, 1848-55.
This work has been translated into English, with some con¬
densation, and published under the title of Memoirs of Fre¬
derick Perthes ; or, Literary, Religious, and Political Life
in Germany from 1789 to 1843, 2 vols. 8vo, Edinburgh,
1856. There is also an abridgment of this work, entitled
Ljife and Times of Frederick Perthes, 1 vol. 8vo, Edin¬
burgh, 1858. In addition to these memoirs of his father,
C. T. Perthes has written Der Deutsche Slaatsleben vor
der Revolution, 1845 ; and Einverleibuny Rrakaus, und
die Schlussacte des Wiener Congresses, 1846.
PERTINAX, Helvius, a Roman emperor, was the
son of an humble wood-merchant and charcoal-burner, and
was born in 126 a.d., according to some in Liguria, but
PER
according to others at Villa Martis, among the Apennines. Pertuis
The prudence and integrity of his character raised him [|
rapidly from his native obscurity. From being a teacher .J'’61’11,
of grammar, he passed gradually through many important
offices, both civil and military, twice holding the consulship,
and governing in succession most ot the provinces in the
empire. At length, on the last day of the year 192, he
was chosen to succeed the murdered Commodus. His
death took place by assassination eighty-six days afterwards,
in the sixty-seventh year of his age, after a reign of two
months and twenty-seven days. (See Roman History.
PERTUIS, a town of France, in the department of
Vaucluse, on the Lese, not far from its confluence with the
Durance, 18 miles S.S.E. of Apt, and 41 E.S.E. of Avig¬
non. It is surrounded with ramparts; and contains a fine
church and a college. Woollen yarn, earthenware, and
brandy are made here ; and there are also dye-works, brick
and tile kilns, &c. Some trade is carried on in grain, wine,
brandy, and oil. Pop. 4776.
PERU.
Early in-
habitan ts.
Peru, a republic of South America, lies between 3. 35.
and 21. 48. S. Lat., and 68. 10. and 81. 30. W. Long.
It is bounded on the N. by the republic ol Ecuador, W.^
by the Pacific Ocean, and E. and S. by the territories of
Brazil and Bolivia. Its extreme length from N. to S. is
about 1250 miles, and its breadth varies from 60 to about
750 miles, the width increasing gradually from S. to N.
The coast-line stretches along the Pacific from the mouth
of the Rio Tumbez on the N. to that of the Rio Loa on
the S. The area may be roughly estimated at about
500,000 square miles.
The present state comprehends only a small portion of
that vast empire over which the Incas exercised their sw7ay
at the time of the Spanish invasion. The ancient empire
of Peru extended over nearly forty degrees of latitude,
from the second degree of north to about the thirty-seventh
of south latitude. Its breadth, however, must have been
altogether disproportioned to its length; but the exact limits
cannot now be determined. It extended eastward from
the shores of the Pacific, in many parts considerably be¬
yond the mountains, to the confines of barbarous states
whose position cannot now be ascertained.
Of the various traditions respecting the early inhabitants
of Peru, the one best known is that which ascribes the in¬
troduction of civilization to Manco Capac, the fiist of the
Incas, who is said to have flourished in the early part of the
twelfth century. At the time of his advent the people were
among the most barbarous of the American savages, roaming
over the country without any fixed place of abode, at constant
war with each other, and feasting on the flesh of their
slaughtered captives. The sun, however, the great luminary
and parent of mankind, taking compassion on their de¬
graded condition, sent his son Manco Capac with Mama
Oello Huaco, at once his sister and his spouse, to reclaim and
civilize them. He taught them to till and irrigate the soil,
to construct residences, and to worship the sun ; and farther,
instructed them in the moralities of life, and framed wise
and benevolent laws for their guidance. The empire, which
at first comprised only a small territory around the city of
Cuzco, gradually extended its authority over the surround¬
ing tribes, until it became the first in size and importance
of the South American States, occupying here a position
equally prominent with that of Mexico in North America.
Another legend, probably not less generally received among
the Peruvians, but one which is less known among other
nations, speaks of certain white and bearded men who, ad¬
vancing from the shores of Lake Titicaca, established an
ascendancy over the natives, and imparted to them the
blessings of civilization. None of these legends, however,
throw any light upon the early history of the people. The
date usually assigned to these events, 400 years before the
conquest, is manifestly too early, as none of the accounts
assign to the Inca dynasty more than thirteen princes, a
number much too small to extend over such a period.
There is also reason to believe that there existed in the^
country a race advanced in civilization before the time of
the Incas, and the extensive architectural remains still exist¬
ing on the shores of Lake Titicaca, evidently of a date an¬
terior to the pretended advent of the Incas, would indicate
that as their original seat. Who this race were, and whence
they came, is a tempting theme for speculation, but lies far
beyond the domain of history. It is only as we approach
the time of the Spanish conquest that we begin to emerge
from the impenetrable mists that overhang the early annals
of the country. In the middle of the fifteenth century the
famous Topa Inca Yupanqui, grandfather ot the monarch
who occupied the throne at the coming of the Spaniards,
led his armies across the terrible desert of Atacama, and
penetrating to the southern region of Chile, fixed the pei-
manent boundary of his dominions at the River Maule.
His son Huayna Capac, possessed ot ambition and military
talent fully equal to his father’s, marched along the Cordil¬
lera towards the north, and pushing his conquests across
the equator, added the powerful kingdom ot Quito to bis
possessions.
Were the accounts given by the earlier writers of the state Ancient
the country and of its inhabitants at the period of the conquest Peru,
not borne out by existing remains, and corroborated by what we
know of such nations as the Chinese and Japanese of the present
day, they would be quite incredible. The surface of the country was
naturally very unfavourable for the purposes of agriculture. A
sandy tract, seldom or never refreshed by rain, and watered only
by a few scanty streams, extended along the coast, beyond which
was the steep and rocky range of the Cordillera. But notwith¬
standing this unpropitious nature of the country, by means of a
judicious system of artificial irrigation, an abundant supply of pro¬
visions was raised for a numerous population. Canals and sub¬
terraneous aqueducts were constructed in all directions, and ter¬
races were raised upon the steep side of the Cordillera, where the
productions of temperate and northern, as well as of tropical
countries, were reared. Traces of these water-conduits are still to
be seen in all parts of Peru. They were formed of large slabs ot
freestone nicely fitted together, and were sometimes several hun¬
dred miles in length, carried through rivers and marshes, and not
unfrequently tunnelled through the solid rock. The earth to the
terraces had frequently to be brought from a considerable distance;
and not uncommonly was the arid soil of the valleys and plains
PERU.
461
removed in order to reach a .ower stratum more suitable for culti¬
vation. They further made large use of the different kinds of ma¬
nures, with the properties of which they were well acquainted.
Guano especially, that valuable manure which has attracted so
much notice of late years, was largely employed by them. Still
more remarkable as monuments of labour and ingenuity were the
great roads which traversed the kingdom in various directions, the
remains of which are still in sufficient preservation to attest their
former magnificence. The most remarkable of these were the two
which extended from Quito to Cuzco, and again diverging from the
capital, were continued in a southern direction towards Chile.
“ One of these roads passed over the grand plateau, and the other
along the lowlands on the borders of the ocean. The former was much
the more difficult achievement, from the character of the country.
It was conducted over pathless sierras covered with snow; galleries
were cut for leagues through the living rock ; rivers were crossed
by means of bridges that swung suspended in the air ; precipices
were scaled by stairways hewn out of the native bed ; ravines of
hideous depth were filled up with solid masonry; in short, all the
difficulties that beset a wild and mountainous region, and which
might appal the most courageous engineer of modern times, were
encountered and successfully overcome. The length of the road, of
which scattered fragments only remain, is variously estimated
from 1500 to 2000 miles; and stone pillars, in the manner of Euro¬
pean mile-stones, were erected at stated intervals of somewhat more
than a league all along the route. Its breadth scarcely exceeded
20 feet. It was built of heavy flags of freestone, and, in some parts
at least, covered with a bituminous cement, which time has made
harder than the stone itself. In some places where the ravines had
been filled up with masonry, the mountain torrents, wearing on it
for ages, have gradually eaten away through the base, and left the
superincumbent mass—such is the cohesion of materials—still
spanning the valley like an arch.” (Prescott.) “ The great road of
the Incas,” says Humboldt, a man not given to exaggeration, “ was
one of the greatest and most useful works ever executed by man.”
Their bridges were constructed of the tough fibres of the maguey,
or of the osier of the country, woven into cables of the thickness of
a man’s body. Several of these enormous cables, bound together, and
attached at each end, formed the bridge, which was covered with
wood, and well secured by a railing on each side. As the length
of this bridge sometimes exceeded 200 feet, and as it was sup¬
ported only at the extremities, it presented an alarming inclina¬
tion towards the centre ; while the motion given to it by the tra¬
veller caused an oscillation still more frightful, as his eye wan¬
dered over the dark abyss of waters that foamed and tumbled
many a fathom beneath. Yet these light and fragile fabrics were
crossed without fear by the Peruvians. In the level country the
broad and tranquil rivers were passed in balzas or floats, to which
sails were attached,—the only instance of their use among American
Indians. All along these highways caravanserais, or tambos as
they were called, were erected at the distance of 10 or 12 miles
from each other, for the accommodation more particularly of the
Inca and his suite. Some of these were very extensive, consisting
of a fortress, barracks, and other military works, and were evi¬
dently destined for the accommodation of the imperial armies when
marching across the country. Posts were also established along
all the great routes, and stations were erected within short dis¬
tances of each other, where runners were stationed to carry for¬
ward dispatches. Messages were thus carried through the country
at the rate of 150 miles a day. At the time of the conquest of
Peru no nation in Europe could boast of any work of public utility
that could be compared with the great roads of the Incas.
The industry and ingenuity of the Peruvians was also shown
in the construction and ornamenting of their temples and
palaces. The ruins of these magnificent edifices, which are to be
found in many parts of the country, attest at once the great power
of the Incas, and the high degree of knowledge in the arts to which
the people had attained ; whilst they also show that, during two
centuries at least, the nation must have subsisted in a state of con¬
siderable advancement. They were usually low, but covered a
vast extent of ground, and were constructed of blocks of stone,
some of them of great size, but of no regular form ; and though no
cement was used, they were adjusted to each other with such ex¬
actness that it was impossible to introduce even the blade of a
knife between them. Some of these stones were full 38 feet long,
by 18 broad, and 6 thick. They were hewn from their native bed
and fashioned into shape by a people ignorant of the use of iron ;
they were frequently brought from great distances, across rivers
and ravines, up to a great elevation on the sierra, and finally ad¬
justed with the nicest accuracy, without the aid of beasts of burden
or machinery of any kind. The interior of the palaces was adorned
with the finest and most costly materials. “ The sides of the apart¬
ments were thickly studded with gold and silver ornaments. Niches
prepared in the walls were filled with images of animals and plants,
curiously wrought, of the same costly materials; and even much of
the domestic furniture, including the utensils devoted to the most ^
ordinary menial services, displayed the like wanton magnifi¬
cence !” (Prescott.) The magnificent Temple of the Sun at Cuzco
covered a great extent of ground in the centre of the city, and was
surrounded by a wall. Such vTas its splendour, that a Spaniard
who saw it in its glory asserts that there were only two edifices in
his own country that could, in point of workmanship, be compared
with it. Every part of the interior was richly ornamented with
gold. On the western wall, and so situated that the rays of the
sun struck directly upon it at his rising, was a figure of their god,
engraved on a massive plate of gold of enormous dimensions, thickly
studded with emeralds and precious stones. All the ornaments of the
temple, and every kind of utensil appropriated to the uses of re¬
ligion, were of gold or silver. Adjoining the principal structure
were several chapels of smaller dimensions, one of which was con¬
secrated to the moon,—the deity held next in reverence to the sun,
as the mother of the Incas. Besides the Temple of the Sun, there
are said to have been no fewer than four hundred inferior temples
and religious houses in the Holy City. Other temples and religious
houses were scattered over the provinces, some of them constructed
on a scale of magnificence that almost rivalled that of the metro¬
polis.
The Peruvians manifested great skill and ingenuity in the ma¬
nufacture of ornaments of various kinds. Here, however, like
the Chinese and some other eastern nations of the present day, their
works are characterized more by minuteness in imitation or deli¬
cacy of finish than invention or beauty of design. Many specimens
of elaborate workmanship have been dug out of the huacas, or
sepulchral mounds. They comprise vases of gold and silver ; brace¬
lets, collars, and other ornaments for the person ; utensils of every
description ; and mirrors of hard, shining stones, highly polished.
Though iron exists in the country, they were unacquainted with its
use. Their tools were of stone, or more frequently of copper; but
they had also a composition of copper and a small quantity of tin,
which had almost the hardness of steel. In their textile manufac¬
tures they likewise manifested considerable skill. Their vast flocks
of sheep, and the cotton which grew luxuriantly on the coast, sup¬
plied them with abundant materials for clothing; and they also
manufactured a species of cloth from the tough thread of the maguey
tree. Some of their woollen manufactures were of such delicacy
and beauty, that the Spanish sovereigns, with all the luxuries of
Europe and Asia at their command, did not disdain to use them.
The government of Peru was a despotism, mild in its character,
but pure and unmitigated in its form. The sovereign was the
source of all power and all authority, and stood at an immeasur¬
able distance from even the highest of his subjects, none of whom
could venture into his presence unless barefoot, and bearing a light
burden upon his shoulders in token of homage. As descended
from, and as representative on earth of the sun, his person and acts
were endowed with a sacredness that no merely secular position
could confer upon them ; and hence any disobedience of his law was
looked upon as sacrilege. But, while vested with all this power, the
sway of the Incas was not a tyrannical one. They sought rather to
imitate their supposed progenitor the sun, and to promote the wel¬
fare and happiness of all their subjects. Though so immeasurably
above his subjects, there were occasions when he condescended o
mingle with them. He presided at some of the religious festivals
and at intervals of several years he travelled in great pomp and
magnificence through the empire, inspecting and inquiring into the
condition of the various classes of his subjects. Once a year, too,
he repaired to a field in the vicinity of the capital, and there, in
presence of his court, and a vast assemblage of the people, turned
Sp the earth with a golden plough. The nobility of Peru were of
two orders —the Incas, or descendants by the male line fiom the
founder of the monarchy ; and the Curacao the caciques of the con¬
quered nations, and their descendants. The Incas were divided
hito different lineages, according to the member of the royal dy¬
nasty from whom they were descended; and as polygamy was
?reely indulged in, this class of nobility came in time to be very
numerous They were distinguished by a peculiar dress and en-
ToyTd many important and exclusive privileges. They filled every
high place of trust and emolument,-the government of provinces
the command of armies,—and were alone admissible to the great
offices of the priesthood. The Curacas were usually continued in
their places by the government, and were possessed of more or less
nower according to the extent of their territory and the number
of their vassals, subject, however, to the jurisdiction of the great
nrovincial governors. They were required occasionally to visit the
capital and to allow their sons to be educated there as pledges of
their loyalty. The object of war with the Incas was to extend the
worship of the sun, and to confer upon the conquered nations the
blessings of such a civilization as they themselves enjoyed; and
hence their contests were not carried on in a bloodthirsty or rapa-
Peru.
462
PERU.
Peru.
cious spirit, and the conquered nation was immediately on sub¬
mission admitted to the full enjoyment of all the privileges of
the natural subjects of the Inca.
The empire was divided into four great provinces, each under a
viceroy or governor, who was assisted in his administration by one
or more councils for the different departments. These viceroys re¬
sided for at least a portion of their time in the capital, where they
constituted a sort of council of state to the Inca. The nation was
further divided into bodies of 10, 50, 100, 500, 1000, and 10,000
inhabitants, each of which was under the authority and supervision
of a responsible officer. The laws were few and exceedingly severe.
There was no appeal from one court to another; but visitors pa¬
trolled the kingdom at certain times to examine into the conduct of
the judges and magistrates, to hear complaints, and to report any
neglect or violation of duty.
The whole land of the empire was divided into three parts, one
for the sun, another for the Inca, and the last for the people. The
lands assigned to the sun furnished a revenue to support the temples
and maintain the costly ceremony of Peruvian worship and the
multitudinous priesthood. Those reserved for the Inca went to
support the royal state, and to supply the various exigencies of the
government. The remainder of the lands were divided, per capita,
in equal shares among the people. This division of the soil was re¬
newed every year, and the possessions of the people were increased
or diminished according to the number of their families. The whole
territory, however, was cultivated by the people. The lands be¬
longing to the sun had to be first attended to; then those of the
widows, orphans, sick, &c. j then their own ] and lastly those of the
Inca. The immense flocks of sheep scattered over the various pro¬
vinces belonged exclusively to the sun and the Inca. They were
entrusted to the care of experienced shepherds, and regulations for
their management prescribed with the greatest minuteness, and
with a sagacity that excited the admiration of the Spaniards, who
were familiar with the management of sheep in their own country.
At the appointed season they were all sheared, and the wool de¬
posited in the public magazines, whence it was dealt out to each
family according to its wants. Care was taken that each house¬
hold should employ the materials furnished for its own use in the
manner that was intended, so that no one should be unprovided
with the necessary apparel. All the mines belonged to the Inca,
and were wrought exclusively for his behoof by persons familiar
with this service. A small portion of the community was in¬
structed in the mechanical arts. The nature and amount of ser¬
vice required of every individual was prescribed by law, and was
so regulated with regard to the welfare of the people, that even the
more wearing and unwholesome of the labours were carried on
without any detriment to health. Work was provided for all,
and idleness was severely punished as a crime. The different em¬
ployments usually descended from father to son. A part of the agri¬
cultural produce and manufactures were sent to the capital, but the
greater portion was stored in magazines scattered over the different
provinces, where there was frequently a supply of grain that would
last for several years ; and thus seasons of scarcity were provided
for, and relief furnished to those whom sickness or misfortune had
reduced to poverty. There were no poor in the land. An account
was kept of the births and deaths in the various districts throughout
the country, and exact returns of the actual population made to the
government every year. At certain intervals, also, a general survey
of the country was made as to its soil, fertility, products, &c.
The Peruvians believed in the existence of one great bupreme
Being, the creator of the world, whom they called Pachacamac (from
camac, creator, and pacha, world). No temple was raised to this
invisible being, save one only in the valley, which took its name
from the deity himself, not far from the Spanish city of Lima.
Subordinate to Pachacamac, but endowed with intercessory power,
Inca by birth, is correct in asserting that “ no human victim was Peru.
ever offered in the Temple of the Sun,” or permitted in worship,—• v  
though this is expressly contradicted by most of the Spanish v
writers. On the death of an Inca, however, a number of his
attendants and favourite concubines, amounting sometimes, it is
said, to a thousand, were immolated on his tomb. Marriage was
a ceremony performed once a year by the Inca among his own
kindred, and by the Curacas and governors in their various dis¬
tricts. The nobles, like their sovereigns, were allowed a plurality
of wives; but the people generally, whether by law or necessity,
were limited to one.
In looking at the ancient Peruvians, one is in doubt whether
the knowledge they display in some respects, or their ignorance in
others, is the more remarkable. In looking at their government,
we can scarcely conceive of anything more suitable for a people in
their condition. Though despotic in its nature, it was eminently
patriarchal; every one, from the highest to the lowest, being made
to feel his dependence upon it in every act of his life. Poverty
and idleness, the two great causes of dissatisfaction in a people,
were carefully guarded against. No one could be poor; neither
could any one become rich} for, however industrious, he could not
add one rood to his possessions, nor advance himself one hair’s-
breadth in the social scale. All might enjoy, and did enjoy, a
competence ; and ambition and avarice found no place in the breast
of the Peruvian. No despotic system of government was ever
devised more suited for its object than was this one. It contri¬
buted not a little to the security of the empire, that under the
sovereign there was an order of hereditary nobles of the same
divine origin with himself, and immeasurably above the rest of the
people. They thus received implicit deference from the multitude,
while, from long training, they became ready and expert agents in
carrying out the measures of government. It is not a little re¬
markable that, while in government, in morals, and in some of the
mechanical arts, they had made such advances, in all that more
properly belongs to intellectual culture they were extremely igno¬
rant. They possessed no written language, but used as a substitute
an instrument called a quipu. This was a cord about two feet
long, composed of different coloured threads tightly twisted to¬
gether, from which a quantity of smaller threads were suspended
in the manner of a fringe. The colour of the threads represented
various objects, the number of which was indicated by knots.
Such was the imperfect substitute for writing, and in this way the
annals of their country were handed down from generation to
generation. They had no species of money, and carried on no
commerce. Their knowledge of astronomy was very imperfect,
which is the more remarkable, seeing that the celestial bodies were
the chief of their deities. In this respect they were far behind
the ancient Mexicans. (See farther on the civilisation of ancient
Peru, Prescott’s History of the Conquest of Peru, and the various
works therein cited.)
The first distinct information received by the Spaniards of the History,
existence of Peru was about the year 1511. Vasco Nunez de Bal¬
boa, then governor of the small colony of Santa Maria in Darien,
made frequent incursions into the neighbouring country; and on
one of these occasions a dispute having arisen amongst the Spa¬
niards about the division of some gold, a young cacique who was
present struck the scales with his fist, and scattered the precious
metal, exclaiming, “ If this is what you prize so much that you
are willing to leave your distant homes, and risk even life itself for
it, I can tell you of a land where they eat and drink out of golden
vessels, and gold is as cheap as iron is with you.” The eager cupi¬
dity of the Spaniards was roused by this information, and no time
was lost in preparing for the invasion of this land of gold. Bal¬
boa, accompanied by a hundred and ninety of his countrymen, and
about a thousand Indians, commenced his journey across the isth-
was the sun the deity whose worship they specially inculcated, and mus, which, although not more than sixty miles in breadth, pre-
whose temple rose in every city and almost every village throughout sented so many obstacles that five-and-twenty days were spent
the land It was be who presided over the destinies of man, gave before he obtained a siffht of the Pacific Ocean. Armed with
light andwarmth to the world,—the founder of their empire, and the
father of their royal dynasty. Besides the sun, the Incas acknow¬
ledged other objects of worship, as the moon his sister-wife, and the
stars ; while among their subjects, the earth, wind, rain, thunder,
as well as mountains, rivers, &c., received divine honours. They
also admitted among their gods the numerous deit ies of theconquered
nations. The sacerdotal order was very numerous. At the head of
all was the high priest, or Villac Vma, who was second only to the
Inca in dignity, and was usually chosen from his brothers or near
kindred. He was appointed by the monarch, and held office for
life ; and he in turn appointed to all the offices under him. The
duties of the priest were confined to ministrations in the temple,
and his science was limited to an acquaintance with the fasts and
festivals of his religion, which were very numerous, and their rites
very complex and elaborate. Their sacrifices consisted of animals,
grains, flowers, &c.; and we would fain believe that Garcilasso, an
before he obtained a sight of the Pacific Ocean,
sword and buckler, he rushed into its waters, and cried out that
“ he claimed this unknown sea, with all that it contained, for the
King of Castile, and that he would make good the claim against all
Christians or infidels who dared to gainsay it.” This spot he desig¬
nated the Gulf of St Michael, a name which it still bears; and here
he obtained more explicit information respecting the Peruvian
empire. But though he extended his discoveries some twenty
leagues farther south, he was not destined to accomplish his object;
for, having returned for reinforcements, he was superseded in his
command by an ungrateful government, and although afterwards
restored to high authority, he soon fell a victim to the jealousy of
the individual with whom he was associated in the government.
It was some time after this before any farther attempts were
made to discover Peru; but in 1519 the capital of the colony was
transferred from the shore of the Atlantic across the isthmus to
the ancient site of Panama, on the Pacific, some distance east of the
P E E U.
463
Peru. present city, as being more suitable for prosecuting discoveries in
*l ) that region. In 1524 an expedition was fitted out, at the head of
v which was Francisco Pizarro, the natural son of a gentleman ot
family, but himself totally uneducated, and doomed to spend the
early part of his career as a swine-herd. He subsequently entered
the army, and being of a daring spirit, and endowed with a robust
frame of body, he was foremost in every danger, and able to endure
the greatest fatigue. Such qualities soon brought him into notice ;
and he was found to be possessed cf others of a higher order,
fitting him to command as well as to serve. Thus, while a favourite
with the soldiery, his superiors saw in him a man eminently fitted
for carrying out their more difficult and dangerous enterprises,
and the success that attended him on such occasions speedily raised
him to an eminent position. He was one of those that had accom¬
panied Balboa on the previous expedition, and gained the esteem
of that general; and he subsequently distinguished himself in the
wars in the north. Associated with him on the present occasion
were Diego de Almagro, a man of like mean birth with himself,
but a gallant and brave soldier, and Hernando de Luque, an eccle¬
siastic, who acted as priest and schoolmaster at Panama. The last
of these was to contribute principally to the expenses of the ex¬
pedition, while the others were to give their labour and experience,
with what small funds they had. A vessel was speedily got ready,
and Pizarro set sail from the port of Panama about the middle of
November 1524, with little more than a hundred men, Almagro
being to follow in a second vessel of inferior size, as soon as it
could be fitted out. The season of the year was the most unsuitable
for the enterprise, for the periodical winds which then set in were
directly adverse to the course which he proposed to steer. He
touched at several places on the coast, but found the country every¬
where of the same uninviting character,—the low grounds covered
with swamps and marshes, and the high lands overgrown with im¬
penetrable forests. In seventy days they had reached no farther
south than Punta Quemada, and a fierce engagement with the
natives here, in which they had two killed and many wounded, at
length determined them to return for assistance. By this time
famine, disease, and encounters with the natives had reduced their
numbers by more than a fifth. Almagro had in the meantime
fitted out another vessel, and set sail from Panama with about
seventy men. He reached Pueblo Quemada in a much shorter time
than Pizarro had done, and was received in the same hostile manner
by the natives, whom, however, he vanquished, burning their town,
and forcing the inhabitants to take refuge in the forests.. This
victory, however, cost him dear, for by a wound received in the
encounter he lost one of his eyes. He pursued his voyage, touch¬
ing at several places on the coast, till he reached the mouth of the
Rio de San Juan, about 4. N. Lat. He here met with a higher
state of civilization than he had yet seen,—neat cottages and culti¬
vated fields; but his mind was by this time filled with anxious
thoughts regarding Pizarro, having seen no traces of him beyond
Quemada, and he resolved to return. Touching at the Pearl
Islands, he learned that his colleague was at Chicama, a place on
the mainland at a short distance from Panama. Here the two
adventurers met j and after recounting each other’s exploits and
escapes, they consulted regarding their future operations. It was
at length resolved that Almagro should proceed to Panama to raise
the necessary supplies, while Pizarro was to remain in his present
quarters. The former, however, met with considerable difficulty
in the execution of his mission, for the governor Pedrarias de¬
clared against the expedition, and was only after a time gained
over by the intercession of Hernando de Luque. The three col¬
leagues now entered into a contract, by which the whole of the con¬
quered territory and spoils were to be divided equally among them,
—Hernando having advanced as his share of the enterprise 20,000
pesos of gold, a sum estimated at about L.50,000 of our money.
Two larger vessels were now purchased, and stores laid in ; but it
was with the greatest difficulty that they could muster a force of
160 men. They at length set sail, each in his own vessel, and
accompanied by an experienced pilot named Ruiz. In a short
time they arrived at the mouth of the Rio de San Juan, where
Pizarro succeeded in surprising a small village, and carrying off a
considerable booty in gold, together with a few of the natives.
They now saw the necessity of having a stronger force to cope
with the increasing population of the country; and accordingly
it was decided that Almagro should return to Panama with the
treasure, and beat up for reinforcements, while Ruiz, in the
other vessel, should reconnoitre the country towards the south,
and Pizarro, with the rest of the force, remain in the neighbour¬
hood of the river. Ruiz proceeded as far south as Punta de
Pasado, about half a degree beyond the equator, and returned,
after an absence of several weeks, to the spot where he had left
Pizarro and his comrades. The latter had just returned from a
long incursion into the interior, where he had undergone great
hardships and lost not a few of his companions. Almagro sailed
into port soon after with his vessel laden with a fresh supply of
stores, and bringing with him a considerable number of volunteers, v
With renewed spirits they proceeded on their journey ; but by
this time the favourable season had passed, and they were long
tossed about before they reached the Island of Gallo. Proceeding
still southward, they found the country more and more populous,
and the evidences of civilization to increase; and when they
anchored off the port of Tacamez they saw before them a town of
2000 or more houses laid out into streets, and containing a numer¬
ous population. Further reinforcements were again necessary;
and it was agreed that Almagro should return to Panama, Pizarro
and the rest remaining at Gallo. With Almagro, however, came
news to Panama of the deplorable condition of the party; so that
the governor not only refused to countenance any further attempts,
but despatched two vessels to bring home Pizarro and his com¬
panions. While most of the latter gladly embraced the opportunity
of getting away, Pizarro and thirteen others sternly refused to re¬
turn. These were accordingly left on the island, and they subse¬
quently removed to the uninhabited island of Gorgona, about 25
leagues farther north, and 5 leagues from the continent. The go¬
vernor filled with indignation when he heard of the obstinacy of
Pizarro and his followers, and sternly refused to render any assist¬
ance to men thus bent on their own destruction. At length, how¬
ever, he was so far overcome by the arguments and entreaties of
Almagro and De Luque that he consented to another vessel being
sent to Pizarro, but with no more hands than were necessary to
work her, and with express orders to Pizarro to return within six
months. Though disappointed that it brought no additional re¬
cruits, Pizarro yet gladly welcomed the little vessel, having been by
this time seven months on the island. In twenty days after leaving
Gorgona, the adventurous vessel rounded the point of St Helena,
and glided smoothly into the Gulf of Guayaquil, anchoring off the
island of Santa Clara, at the entrance of the Bay of Tumbez. Here
they beheld a town of considerable size, with many buildings ap¬
parently of stone and plaster. The people collected along the
shore, and friendly relations were exchanged between them and
the Spaniards. Here the latter had their golden dreams, if pos¬
sible, more than realized ; but for the present they could only feast
their eyes on the riches before them. To attack the place with
his handful of followers Pizarro saw to be useless; and accordingly
he took a friendly leave of the natives, promising soon to return.
He continued his progress southward; and everywhere received the
like friendly welcome from the natives, and gathered information of
the wealth and magnitude of the empire of Peru. He proceeded to
about the ninth degree of south latitude; and having by this time
seen enough to convince him of the value of his discovery, he turned
his prow northward, and sailed for Panama. In his way he touched
at Tumbez, where some of his followers were at their request left,
and two or three Peruvians were taken on board. The excitement
caused by their arrival at Panama was very great; but still the cold¬
ness of the governor held out to them but little hopes of e cient
help being obtained from that quarter, and it was resolved to ap¬
ply to the crown itself. Pizarro was accordingly sent to the mother-
country, and reached Seville early in the summer of 1528. He was
graciously received by the emperor Charles V., and vv as inves e<
with supreme civil and military authority over the coun ry o o
conquered, for 200 leagues south of Santiago. Pizarro, on his part,
engaged to raise 250 men, with the requisite vessels and stores for
the conquest of the country within six months. He could scarcely,
however, raise half this body of men, and had to steal PrlV!^ely °“j;
of the port of Seville, in order to avoid the scrutiny of the officers of
government. He was accompanied by four brothers three of whom
were illegitimate like himself—Francisco Martin de Alcantara on
the mother’s side, and Juan and Gonzal° Plza.rf<Lon ^he ^ ^ '
The legitimate brother was named Hernando. At Nombre de Dios,
Pizarro was met by his two associates, and great was Almagro s
wrath to find that all the chief offices had been conferred upon his
colleague. A reconciliation, however, was at length effected , and
early !n January 1531 the expedition, consisting of 180 men, with
07 horses for the cavalry, left Panama in three vessels Almagro
remaining behind, in order to collect reinforcements. Having en¬
countered contrary winds, they had in thirteen days only reached
St Matthew’s Bay. Here it was resolved to disembark the troops,
who would advance along the coast while the ships held on their
course at a convenient distance from the shore. In the province of
Coaque they suddenly fell upon a town, and obtained a valuable
booty in gold, silver, and precious stones. A large quantity of this
was sent to Panama with the ships, while the troops continued then-
march southwards. At Puerto Viejo they were joined by a rein¬
forcement of thirty men, under an officer named Benalcazar. AVhile
at Puna, an island on the Gulf of Guayaquil, which they had
treacherously taken possession of, notwithstanding the friendly re¬
ception they had met with from the natives, they received a further
reinforcement of 100 men in two vessels; and Pizarro now con-
Peru.
464
PERU.
Peru.
sulered himself in a position to enter upon the proper theatre of
his labours. He accordingly passed over to Tumbez, and there
learned that the country had been for some time distracted by a civil
war between two sons of the late monarch.
Huayna Capac was the reigning Inca at the time when the
Spaniards first visited the coast of Peru. He is represented as a
prince distinguished both in peace and war. He brought under
the sway of the Incas the powerful state of Quito, and reduced to
subjection many of the independent tribes on the remote borders of
his territory. He likewise pursued an enlightened policy towards
his subjects, encouraging agriculture and other branches of in¬
dustry, opening up new roads, and introducing the civilization of the
Incas among the conquered nations. He is said to have been deeply
impressed with the accounts brought to him of the white men.
He saw in their ships and weapons indications of a civilization far
superior to that of his own people ; and he feared that at no dis¬
tant day they would return, and might shake to its foundations
the mighty empire of the Incas. Oracles, too, had darkly predicted
mighty events that were to happen on the death of the twelfth
Inca; nor were omens wanting—those powerful preachers to the
untutored mind. Huayna Capac died about 1529, leaving his
kingdom of Peru to his eldest son Huascar, but Quito he left to his
favourite son Atahuallpa, by a daughter of the conquered monarch.
The two sons, however, did not long rest contented with their re¬
spective possessions, and a civil war was the consequence. \ ictory
at length declared for Atahuallpa; and in order to seat himself
more firmly on the throne, he put to death all the descendants of
the late Inca that he could seize either by stratagem or force.. The
life of Huascar, however, was, for political purposes, spared in the
meantime; but he was detained a close prisoner. These events oc¬
curred in the early part of 1532, and completely diverted, the at¬
tention of the Peruvians from the circumstance of a foreign invader
having landed on their soil. Pizarro at once saw the importance
to him and his cause of this state of the country. After some time
spent in reconnoitring the country, he fixed upon a spot in the rich
valley of Tangarala as a site for a settlement. Hither accordingly
the Spaniards removed and set about building a town, to which they
gave the name of San Miguel. Pizarro here learned that the vic¬
torious Atahuallpa lay encamped about ten or twelve days’ journey
off, and though his entire force would not amount to 200 men after
leaving 50 for the protection of his new settlement, he resolved to
set out to meet the Inca. On the 24th of September 1532, there¬
fore, he marched out of San Miguel at the head of his small body
of adventurers, amounting in all to 177 men, of whom 67 were ca¬
valry. Everywhere the people received them with confiding hos¬
pitality, and as yet the Spaniards saw it to be their interest to re¬
ciprocate their friendships. At length they arrived at Caxamalca,
within a league of the Peruvian encampment, and here they saw the
slope of the hills white with pavilions as thick as snow-flakes for
the space apparently of several miles.. The sight caused’something
like fear in the stoutest bosom; but it was now too late to draw
back. In the afternoon of the 15th of November 1532, the Span¬
iards reached Caxamalca, which had been vacated by the inhabit¬
ants for their reception, and immediately they sent an embassy to
the Inca inviting him to visit them in their new quarters. They
were graciously received by the Inca, and he promised to pay them
a visit on the following day. The reception prepared for the Inca
was such as he little expected when he set out with an unarmed
retinue to redeem his promise. He was borne on the shoulders ot
his principal attendants seated on a throne or couch resplendent
with plates of gold and silver, enriched with precious stones, and
adorned with waving plumes of the most gorgeous hues. . VV hen he
entered the plaza or great square of the town, a dominican friar,
Fray Vicente de Valverde, came forward with his breviary, or, ac¬
cording to other accounts, a Bible in one hand and a crucifix.in the
other, and, approaching the Inca, expounded to him the doctrines of
the Christian religion, exhorting him to embrace the true faith, ana
to acknowledge himself a vassal of the Spanish crown. Enraged
and astonished at this extraordinary proceeding, the Inca demanded
by what authority he said these things. The friar handed him the
book which he held in his hand. “ This,” said he, holding it to
his ear for a moment, “ tells me nothing,” and dashed it to the
ground with disdain. The monk immediately ran towards Pizarro,
calling out that the Christian religion had been dishonoured,
and at a given signal the Spaniards who had been concealed in t e
adjoining buildings rushed out upon the defenceless natives.
The slaughter was immense on the side of the Indians; and the
murderous nature of the attack may be gathered from the fact, that
not a single Spaniard was killed or wounded with the exception of
Pizarro, who received a slight wound on the hand from one of his
own men. Atahuallpa himself was taken prisoner; and a rich
booty was found in the Peruvian camp, consisting of gold and sil¬
ver, precious stones, cotton, and woollen stuffs, &c. The captive
monarch, though receiving every attention at the hand of Pizarro,
naturally felt anxious to regain his liberty. He feared also that Peru,
the news of his captivity might reach Huascar, who, by cor-
rupting his keepers, might obtain his liberty, and would find little
difficulty in putting himself at the head of the empire. The love
of gold, he soon learned, was the prime motive that had brought
the Spaniards into the country ; and as the price of his liberty, he
offered to Pizarro to fill the room in which they stood with gold as
hirrh as he could reach. This room is said to have been 22 feet
long by 17 feet wide, and the height 9 feet from the floor. Pi¬
zarro, charmed with the idea of so much gold, and knowing how
easy a matter it was to break faith with a captive, readily entered
into the agreement, and the terms of it were duly drawn up by a
notary. Atahuallpa therefore, with all haste, despatched couriers
to Cuzco and all the principal places of the kingdom, with orders
to forward the gold utensils and ornaments of the palaces, temples,
&c., to Caxamalca without delay. In the meantime, the Spaniards
remained in Caxamalca unmolested, and small detachments of their
number marched into the remoter provinces, and were everywhere
received with marks of the most submissive respect. News hav¬
ing by this time reached Huascar of the Inca’s captivity and of his
offered ransom, he is said to have offered to the Spaniards a much
greater amount if they would restore to him his dominions, of
which he had been unjustly deprived. Atahuallpa was greatly
alarmed on hearing of this, and fearing lest the Spaniards might
listen to his brother’s request, he caused him to be assassinated.
Meanwhile Indians were daily arriving at Caxamalca loaded with
treasure ; and at this time, too, arrived Almagro, with a strong re¬
inforcement of 150 foot and 50 horse. This was about the middle
of February 1533 ; and now Pizarro found himself in a position to
go forward with the conquest of the country. The whole of the
Inca's ransom, however, had not yet arrived; but at length they
agreed to accept what had already arrived in full of the obliga¬
tion. The total amount of gold, when melted down, was found to
be 1,326,539 pesos de oro, equivalent to about L.3,500,000 sterling.
Besides this there were a number of articles of very delicate
workmanship, which were reserved for being sent as a present to
the emperor. After deducting one-fifth for the crown, the rest was
divided in certain proportions among the troops, Pizarro himself
and his officers receiving sums in proportion to their rank. ^ Con¬
siderable difficulty was experienced in dealing with Almagro s fol¬
lowers, who demanded to share in the spoil, but at length they
agreed to resign all claim on being paid a stipulated sum. Nothing
in this division is said of Almagro, who in terms of the original
contract was entitled to an equal share with Pizarro himself.
Luque, indeed, was no longer to be benefited by worldly treasure,
having died a short time before Almagro s last departure fiom 1 a-
nama too soon to learn the full success of the enterprise which,
but for his exertions, must have failed. After dividing the spoil,
it came to be considered what was to be done with the Inca, who
now became clamorous for his liberty. Rumours of a rising
among the natives now began to be current, and though they seem
to have had no foundation in fact, they yet served to give colour
to a proceeding which would get them over their difficulty with
the Inca. This was nothing less than the putting him to death. A
ceremony preparatory to execution was gone through (it cannot
be called a trial), and he was sentenced to be burned alive in the
great square of Caxamalca that very night. When bound to the
stake, Father Valverde made a last attempt to induce him to adopt
the Christian faith and be baptized, promising that if he did so he
would receive the less painful death of garrotting. On being as¬
sured by Pizarro that such would be the case, he consented to
abjure his own religion and be baptized ; and accordingly he suf¬
fered by the latter mode on 29th August 1533. Thus perished by
an ignominious death the last of the Inca monarchs of Peru.
On the death of Atahuallpa, Pizarro invested a son, or, accord¬
ing to others, a brother of that monarch, with the insignia of roy¬
alty, hoping that a young man without experience might prove
a more passive instrument in his hands than an ambitious monarch
who had been accustomed to command ; but the young prince did
not live many weeks to enjoy his new dignity, and no one was sub¬
stituted in his place. At Cuzco a brother of Huascar, named
Manco Capac, was elevated to the throne. Early in September
the Spaniards, now amounting to almost 500 men, of whom nearly
one-third were cavalry, set out from Caxamalca for the capital.
Pizarro halted for some time at Xauxa, in order to found there a
Spanish colony, judging it a favourable position for keeping the na¬
tives in check ; while at the same time it afforded an easy commu¬
nication with the sea coast. Though during this march bodies of
Indians were seen hovering about at a distance, yet they had of¬
fered no actual resistance. A detachment of sixty horse, however,
under De Soto, having been sent forward to reconnoitre the country
in advance, were attacked by a body of the natives, who fought
with great fury, and the issue was doubtful, till the arrival of
Almagro with a reinforcement of cavalry struck terror into the
P E R U.
465
Peru.
natives, and prevented them from renewing the contest. Pizarro
at length set out from Xauxa, leaving his treasures there under a
guard of forty men ; and nothing of importance occurred on the
road till he reached the vale of Xaquixaguama, about 5 leagues
from Cuzco. Here he halted for several days, and one of his first
acts was the execution of Challcuchima, one of the ablest of the
Peruvian generals. He had attended his royal master during his
captivity, and since his death he had remained in the Spanish
camp. He was now accused of having stirred up the natives
against the Spaniards, and was sentenced to be burned alive.
When at the stake he coldly replied to Father Valverde’s en¬
treaties to adopt the Christian faith, that he “ did not understand
the religion of the white men.” Soon after this Manco Capac
arrived in great state at the Spanish camp, and, announcing his
title to the throne, claimed the protection of the white men. He
was received with great cordiality, and assured that they had come
into the country in order to vindicate the claims of Huascar to the
throne, and to punish the usurpation of his rival. Taking with
him the Indian prince, Pizarro now resumed his march, and on the
15th November 1533 entered the Peruvian capital. This city far
surpassed anything that they had yet seen in the New World.
The beauty of its edifices, the length and regularity of its streets,
and the appearance of comfort, or even luxury, visible in its nume¬
rous population, excited their astonishment. The population of
the city itself is said to have amounted to 200,000, and that of
the suburbs to as many more. Though doubtless the inhabitants
had concealed much of their treasures, yet the gold obtained here
is said to have even exceeded that received as the ransom of the
Inca. One of the first acts of Pizarro, after dividing the spoil,
was to place Manco on the throne, in order to give his acts some
air of authority with the natives. He afterwards organized a
municipal government, and induced his soldiers to settle in the
place by liberal grants of houses and land. In March 1534 a
Spanish force, amounting to 500 men, under Don Pedro de Al¬
varado, a general who had greatly distinguished himself in the
Mexican war, arrived in the Bay of Caraques. He had come to
take possession of Quito, which he believed, or pretended to be¬
lieve, was not included in Pizarro’s territory. Almagro was im¬
mediately despatched to meet the invaders, and came upon them in
the plains of Riobamba. By this time Alvarado s army had been
reduced by more than a fourth, in consequence of the great hard¬
ships they had undergone on their march ; so that they were little
inclined to enter upon a contest which it was Almagro’s interest
to avoid. Negotiations were accordingly commenced, and at
length Alvarado agreed to hand over his fleet, forces, and stores,
to Pizarro for 100,000 pesos de oro.
Cuzco being found to be unsuitable as the capital of the colony,
it was resolved to build another near the coast; and accordingly,
on the 6th January 1535, the new capital was founded in the valley
of Rimac. It was first named Ciudad de los Reyes, or “ City of
the Kingsbut subsequently it came to be called Lima. The
Spaniards applied themselves with vigour to the task of building
the new city, under the eye of their chief. In the meantime, Al¬
magro had arrived at Cuzco and taken command of that capital,
and here he received intelligence of the return of Hernando Pizarro
from the court of Spain. This time he had taken the precaution
to send a secret messenger of his own along with Hernando, to look
after his interests at court; and he now learned that he had re¬
ceived a grant of all the country lying south of the southern limit
of Pizarro’s territory. Almagro was greatly elated at these tid¬
ings, and immediately laid claim to Cuzco as being within the
bounds of his territory. He accordingly proceeded to exert his
independent authority, and matters were approaching an open
rupture when Pizarro himself appeared among them. He managed
to appease his rival; and Almagro agreed to waive his claim to the
capital in the meantime, and set out on the conquest of Chile. Pi¬
zarro now returned to the coast, and had the satisfaction of seeing
his new capital rapidly advancing.
Manco Capac, who had hitherto so tamely submitted to be a tool
of the Spaniards, was nevertheless a person of some spirit and
courage ; and at length, exasperated by the repeated indignities
to which he was exposed, he effected his escape from Cuzco, where
he then was. A rising among the natives immediately followed, and
Cuzco was besieged in February 1536 by a force amounting, it is
said, to 200,000 men. To add to the distress of the Spaniards,
their city was set on fire by the burning arrows and red-hot stones
of the natives, and more than one-half of it was reduced to ashes.
They frequently sallied out of the town, but beyond killing a
number of the natives, they effected no advantage, while the natives
increased in skill and bravery with each contest. They however
succeeded in taking possession of a fortress overlooking the city,
but Juan Pizarro lost his life in the struggle. Month after month
passed away, and still there came no relief. Indeed the rising had
been general. Several hundred of the Spaniards living upon
VOL. XVIl.
their estates had been massacred; Xauxa was besieged; and a
strong force had attempted to besiege Lima, but were put to flight, v
Several detachments had been sent by the governor to relieve
Cuzco, but they were all cut off by the natives. In this dilemma,
Pizarro sent letters to the governors of Panama, Nicaragua, Gua¬
temala, and Mexico, imploring them for assistance.
The siege of Cuzco had now lasted more than five months, and
as the season of planting had come on, Manco, fearing a famine,
sent the greater part of his followers home, with orders to return
and renew the blockade as soon as their field labours were over.
The Spaniards beheld with joy their enemies melting away; but
a new cause of dread appears in the person of Almagro. He
had proceeded as far south as the vale of Coquimbo, about 30. S.
Lat., but found nothing to induce him to remain ; and his men,
who had suffered many hardships on the way, now became clamor¬
ous for his return. On reaching Arequipa, he learned of the revolt
of the Indians, and hastened forward to Cuzco. He now renewed
his claim to that city, and sent an embassy to the municipality re¬
quiring them to recognise him as their lawful governor. A truce
was, however, concluded in the meantime; but Almagro, hearing
that a strong body of troops were marching from Lima towards
Cuzco, suddenly took possession of the capital, and the two
Pizarros were made prisoners. He then set out to meet the force
from Lima, at this time lying at Xauxa. The two armies came in
sight of each other at the Rio de Abancay. Aided by the treachery
of one of the officers of the opposite army, Almagro forced the
river during the night, and obtained an easy victory, on the 12th
July 1537, and took the commander Alonzo de Alvarado prisoner.
He now returned in triumph to Cuzco.
Meanwhile aid began to reach Lima, and Pizarro was soon able
to set out for Cuzco at the head of 450 men, most of whom were
cavalry. On his way, he heard of the arrival of Almagro and of
the defeat of Alvarado, and immediately he returned with all haste
to Lima, to put himself in a position for defence, judging, not in¬
correctly, that Almagro might also lay claim to that city. The
latter having now obtained possession of Cuzco, was easily per¬
suaded by his restless followers that Lima also fell within his ter¬
ritory. He accordingly set out for that city, and on the way
heard of the escape from Cuzco of Gonsalo Pizarro, Alvarado, and
other prisoners, and of their arrival in Pizarro’s camp, Hernando
Pizarro he had taken along with him. Pizarro now attempted to
negotiate; and at length it was agreed to wait for definite instruc¬
tions from Castile, Almagro meanwhile remaining in possession of
Cuzco, while Hernando Pizarro was to be set at liberty under pro¬
mise to leave the country within six weeks. During the time that
negotiations were pending, Pizarro was busily engaged in warli e
preparations, and when his brother was set at liberty, he found
himself in a condition to unmask his intentions. Almagro, on
seeing that he had been deceived, immediately made for his capital;
and a council of war being held, it was resolved to wait the arrival
of the enemy at Las Salinas, a place within a league of C,f£?-
Almagro, himself at this time too ill to take the command of s
troops, devolved it upon Orgonez, the ablest of his ge°er^-
Pizarro had intrusted the command of his forces to ^ two brotliers
and returned to Lima. Almagro’s force amounted to about 500
men, while that of the enemy was about 200 mor®- ^ g -
place on 26th June 1538, and for some time raged with great fury,
»„glh oTr toot
pres^oTAJo^hich ho gave up *o Alm^gro »».
taken prisoner, and thrown into irons, and shortly after, this
man and able soldier “J “.'/salt.,, immediately
Mdere^hin^elf the undisputed^possessOT^of^all^this^vast^king^doni.
he disgusted by 18 h lfg >bestowend on iJ brothers and favourites,
the country. But the time had
Mt vet come for a revolt. The country being now in apparent
not ye* come d to revisit Spain, and accordingly em-
barked a^Lirna in^the*summer of 1539,P earnestly counselling his
brother to beware of the Chile men, as Almagro s followers were
called Not a few of these, however, were already in Spain, and
the reception of Hernando in that country was colder than he had
expected. Indeed the clamours against him became so great, that
he was at length cast into prison. He lay there for twenty years,
and when at length, in 1560, he was released, he was an old man
bent down by yetrs and infirmities; but he still survived for several
-pears an obiect of pity rather than of indignation. _ ....
y The state of Peru was now such as to demand the immediate in-
3 N
Peru.
PERU
466
Peru. terposition of government; but the mission was one ot extreme
V- _ i difficulty, for Pizarro’s power was now firmly established over the
country, and he would not readily submit to any interference with
his authority. At length Licentiate Vaca de Castro, a member ot
the Royal Audiencia of Valladolid, was selected for this delicate
mission. He was to appear before Pizarro in the capacity of a
royal judge, to consult with him on the redress of grievances, espe¬
cially with reference to the natives, to transmit an account of the
state of the country to the court at Castile, and, in the event of
Pizarro’s death, to take upon himself the government of the coun¬
try. The last provision was, as the result showed, necessary, for
before he reached his destination Pizarro had fallen by the hand of
assassins.
Almagro had left a son by an Indian woman, and had named
him his successor. This young man, on the imprisonment of his
father, was sent to Lima, where he continued to live, and his house
became the resort of the disaffected of his father’s followers. A
number of the more desperate of these, goaded on by poverty, and
the insults to which they were continually subjected, at length
resolved on the assassination of the governor, who was now in Lima.
Pizarro himself seems to have been singularly blind to his danger,
and notwithstanding numerous cautions that he received, he took
no precautions for his safety. On the 26th of June 1541, the con¬
spirators, to the number of eighteen or twenty, sallied out from
Almagro’s house, headed by Juan de Herrada, shouting “ Long
live the king ; death to the tyrant.” They gained the palace with¬
out opposition, and reached the apartment where their victim was
conversing with some friends, having just risen from table. Hastily
enveloping one arm in his cloak, and seizing a sword, he main¬
tained for some time the unequal contest; but at length he received
a deadly thrust in the throat, and fell to the ground, when he was
immediately despatched. Thus perished the man who had acquired
for Spain the richest of her possessions,—a man possessed of great
abilities, and adorned with many excellent qualities, but whose
• perfidy and cruelty have left a stain upon his character that, how¬
ever much it may be extenuated by the circumstances of his early
life, and the times in which he lived, can never be removed. With
• him fell his half brother Martinez de Alcantara.
On the death of Pizarro, the young Almagro was placed at the
head of the government, but his authority was only tardily ac¬
knowledged in places at a distance from Lima. Gonzalo Pizarro,
who had been appointed governor of Quito, was at this time away
on an expedition into the country lying eastward of the Andes.
Vaca de Castro meanwhile received the news of the death of
Pizarro at Popayan. He continued his march to Quito, where he
was well received by Gonzalo’s lieutenant, and he now produced
his royal commission to assume the government. Emissaries were
despatched to the principal towns, requiring their submission,
while Castro himself continued his march slowly towards the south.
Almagro meanwhile had proceeded to Cuzco, where he learned
of the arrival of Castro at Lima. Resolved to try the effects of
negotiation before an appeal to arms, he sent an embassy to the
new governor, stating that he did not dispute his authority over
Peru, and that he had only taken up arms to secure possession of
the territory bequeathed to him by his father, of which he had
been unjustly deprived by Pizarro, To this he received no answer;
and thus saw that his only recourse was to arms. He accordingly left
Cuzco about midsummer 1542, at the head of a well-disciplined and
well-appointed force of about 500 men. Castro had by this time
set out from Lima, and on reaching Xauxa, found himself with an
army of about 700 men; but they were not so well disciplined or
armed as those of Almagro. The two armies met in the plains of
Chupas, and the battle took place on the 16th feeptember 1542.
Both sides fought with great bravery, and the victory was long
doubtful, but at length it declared for Castro. Almagro, by his
feats of valour, showed himself not unworthy ot his father s name;
but when all was lost, he fled with a few followers to Cuzco, where
he was taken prisoner, condemned, and executed. He met his fate
with the utmost composure, made no appeal for mercy, and only
requested that his bones might be laid by the side of his father s.
Vaca de Castro having now got rid of his rival, gave his attention
to the settlement of the country. He laid down laws lor its better
government, and attempted to ameliorate the condition of the
natives by in some measure protecting them from the unjust exac¬
tions of their conquerors, and by establishing schools for teaching
them Christianity. But while these gradual measures were being
carried out in Peru, one of a much more sweeping nature was re¬
solved upon in Spain. This was nothing less than the proclama¬
tion of all the Indians vassals of the crown of Spain, and thus only
to be employed in voluntary labour, for which they were to receive
a fair remuneration. Slaves were declared to be free on the death
of their present proprietors ; but all those held by persons in pub¬
lic offices, ecclesiastics, or persons criminally concerned in the feuds
of Almagro and Pizarro, were to be immediately set at liberty.
To carry out this measure, Blasco Nunez Vela was appointed go- Peru,
vernor of Peru, with the title of Viceroy. A royal audience, con- v.
sisting of four judges, was also named to assist him in administering
the law. The news of this caused the greatest indignation in Peru,
and it was with difficulty that the governor could prevail upon
the people to wait the arrival of the viceroy, and try the effect of
pacific measures.
The viceroy reached Tumbez on the 4th March 1544, and imme¬
diately showed his determination to act up to his instructions by
liberating a number of slaves. The country was now in the greatest
consternation, and all eyes were turned towards Gonzalo Pizarro,
the last in the land of that family who had led the armies of the
conquest, and the one most likely to afford them redress. He was
invited to Cuzco, and was there invested with the title of Procura¬
tor-General of Peru. The viceroy, meanwhile,’ had reached Lima,
where he was installed in his new office ; and one of his first acts
was to proclaim his determination to fulfil his commission. He,
however, offered to join the colonists in a memorial to the crown,
soliciting the repeal of a code which he now believed would be
neither for the interests of the colony nor the crown; but in the
meantime he had no warrant to suspend its execution. Gonzalo
was not long in mustering a force of nearly 400 men, with whom he
set out from Cuzco ostensibly for the purpose of putting down the
Indians, who were a continual source of annoyance to the Spaniards.
Scarcely had he left the city when he heard of the death of Manco.
He had been assassinated by a party of the Almagro faction, who
had taken refuge among the Indians on the defeat of their young
leader, and they in their turn were all slain by the Indians.
Though the alleged cause of Gonzalo’s warlike preparations was
thus removed, yet it had little effect upon his proceedings. His
intentions being now apparent, many of his followers, shrinking
from the idea of open rebellion—for loyalty was ever a crowning
feature of the Spaniard—secretly withdrew from his army. On
the other hand, he was joined by others less scrupulous, and several
bodies of troops sent out to oppose his progress came over to his
ranks ; so that in a short time he found the force with which he left
Cuzco nearly doubled. Among those who joined his standard at
this time was Francisco de Carbajal, a distinguished soldier, but
now eighty years old, and preparing to return to Spain. He was
at length, however, induced by the earnest entreaties of Pizarro to
join his cause, and to take command under him. The viceroy now
rigorously prepared for war; but he was a man particularly ill
suited for an emergency like the present. He was arrogant and
domineering, while he was also weak and vacillating. His arrogance
was a natural result of his weakness; and unfortunately he w as
weak and vacillating w'hen he should rather have been arrogant, and
arrogant w'hen it would have been better to have been vacillating.
The defections from his cause led him to be suspicious of every one
about him, and of none more so than his best friends. Castro he
suspected of holding communication with the enemy, and he was
ordered to be placed under arrest and confined on board a vessel
lying in the harbour. In the meantime, he was strengthening the
fortifications of the city ; but at last he resolved to abandon the
capital and withdraw to Truxillo, about eighty leagues distant.
The judges, however, having recently arrived at Lima, were strenu¬
ously opposed to any such measure, aud disapproved of his conduct
in every particular. They appealed to the citizens for support, and
passed a decree that the viceroy should be arrested. He was taken
prisoner in his palace, and placed in strict confinement. A provi¬
sional government was then established, and one of its first acts was
to suspend the odious ordinances till instructions could be received
from court. Pizarro was called upon to lay down his arms, but
this he refused to do, and demanded of the judges that they ratify
his appointment as governor of the country by the people. Loath
as they were to lay down their newly-acquired authority, they had
to submit with the best grace possible, as they were without the
means of resistance. Accordingly they invited Gonzalo to assume
the government; and he entered the city in great state, at the head
of nearly 1200 followers, on the 28th day of October 1544. The
first act of the new governor was to apprehend and punish those
that had taken the most active part against him; some he con¬
demned to death, and others he sent into banishment. His next
concern was to fill all the places of trust with his own partizans.
Meanwhile the ship in which Castro was confined suddenly left
the port;—that officer not caring to trust himself in the power of Pi¬
zarro, had prevailed on the captain to convey him to Panama. On
his arrival in Spain, there were not wanting parties to accuse him of
embezzlement, injustice, and mismanagement; and though he was
at length acquitted of every charge, it was only after he had been
imprisoned for twelve years that the tardy tribunal of Castile were
able to pronounce a judgment. Pizarro had scarcely begun to ex¬
ercise his new powers when a new enemy arose to oppose him.
This was the viceroy Nunez, whom the judges had put on board a
ship under the charge of one of their number, Juan Alvarez, in
PERU.
467
order that he might he carried to Spain. Scarcely, however, had
they put to sea when Alvarez, moved either by fear or remorse, put
himself and vessel into the hands of Nunez. The latter landed at
Tumbez, and immediately raised the standard of royalty. Numbers
flocked to his cause, and he soon found himself at the head of a
considerable army. Pizarro, alarmed at these proceedings, set out
in person with a large force to attack the viceroy, who was then
in San Miguel. The latter, however, did not feel himself in a po¬
sition to risk a battle, and consequently retreated, first to Quito,
and then to Popayan. At the latter place he was joined by Benal-
cazar, and now found bis force to amount to about 400 men. Pi¬
zarro meanwhile, at Quito, by a feigned retreat, drew the enemy
towards that city, and at length the two armies met for battle about
a mile from Quito on the 18th of January 1546. Pizarro s force
amounted to about 700 men; and though the enemy behaved
bravely, the victory was not long doubtful. About one-third of
the viceroy’s troops had perished; Nunez himself was slain; and
Benalcazar had fallen, covered with wounds. Pizarro remained
for some time at Quito, and then set out for his capital. He was
everywhere received with the greatest demonstrations of joy, and
saluted with the titles of “ Liberator and Protector of the People.”
He was now undisputed master of Peru, and began to assume a
state corresponding with his fortunes.
At home the news of these proceedings caused the greatest con¬
sternation and dismay to all classes ; and the government felt the
greatest difficulty in coming to a decision regarding the course to
be followed. At length it was resolved to try conciliatory mea¬
sures, and to send out a representative who, by arguments and po¬
litic concessions, might bring back the people to their allegiance.
For this difficult mission was chosen Pedro de la Gasca, an ecclesi¬
astic who, though bred to the church, had also distinguished him¬
self as a soldier and a diplomatist. He was a man well qualified
for the management both of affairs and men ; he was possessed of
great abilities, of a gentle and winning manner, with atthe same time
great firmness and decision of character, and of undoubted fidelity
and loyalty. He received the title of President of the Koyal
Audience, and was placed at the head of every department in the
colony, civil, military, and judicial—-being, in fact, invested with
all the powers of the sovereign himself. His preparations were few
and simple ; and he set out with a slender band of followers on 26th
of May 1546. By this time Panama and Nombre de Dios were in
the possession of Pizarro, guarding jealously any communication
with the mother country. Little danger, however, was apprehended
from the arrival of a poor ecclesiastic, without an armed force, and
with hardly even a retinue to support him. Great, therefore, was
the astonishment of the governors when they came toknowthe extent
of the powers vested in Gasca. At length, by his address and the
promise of pardon to all who should immediately lay down their
arms, they were induced to join his cause; and on the 19th of No¬
vember 1546 he obtained possession of the fleet at Panama. He
now adopted a bolder policy, by publicly raising levies of men and
drawing supplies from all quarters. The alacrity with which
people of all classes espoused his cause showed that the ancient
sentiment of loyalty still prevailed. Many deserted the standard
of the usurper to rally round that of a person who was invested
with lawful authority; and those who had been driven to the forests
and caverns now quitted their hiding-places and joined the royalist.
Meanwhile Pizarro was making every preparation for war; but as
town after town, and general after general, was declaring for the
royalist, he judged it safer to leave Lima and go to Arequipa. No
sooner had he left Lima than that city opened its gates to the
enemy. Gasca himself remained at Panama till 10th of April 1547,
when he set sail with his whole fleet for Peru, and after encounter¬
ing much bad weather, he reached Tumbez on the 13th of June. He
was everywhere received with the greatest enthusiasm, and at length
reached Xauxa, where he established his head-quarters. Pizarro
had meanwhile decided to evacuate Peru and go into Chile; but
the mountain passes through which his route lay were commanded by
a hostile force about double his own. He hazarded a battle in the
plains of Huarina on 26th of October 1547; and his men, fight¬
ing with the desperation of those who had everything to lose, at
length defeated the enemy with great slaughter. Elated by this
victory, he now resolved not to leave the country, and marched to
Cuzco. The royalists at Xauxa were much dismayed by the news
of this defeat when they were looking for an easy victory. Gasca
meanwhile exerted himself to raise a large force, in order to put a
speedy end to the war, and at length found himself at the. head of
nearly 2000 men, the largest European force that had yet assembled
in Peru. The two armies met in the plain of Xaquixagua; but no
sooner were they drawn up in battle array than company after
company of Pizarro’s troops passed over to the enemy, and no
alternative was left to that commander but to yield himself a pri¬
soner, He was tried, found guilty, and soon after executed. Thus
perished the last and youngest of that remarkable family, in the
forty-second year of his age. His remains were deposited side by
side with those of the two Almagros. Carbajal and others of the v,
leaders were also executed ; while many more were banished, and
their estates confiscated.
Gasca now devoted his attention to settling the state of the coun¬
try, and to establishing the government upon a true and firm basis ;
by which means he greatly strengthened the hands of his successors,
and facilitated the orderly government of the country. Having at
length accomplished his mission, he set out for Spain in January
1550, and entered the harbour of Seville in little more than four
years from the time that he had sailed from that port. He was soon
after raised to a bishopric, and passed the rest of his days in the peace¬
ful discharge of his ecclesiastical functions, honoured by his sove¬
reign, and enjoying the admiration and respect of his countrymen.
Petty disturbances continued to break out in Peru for some time
after the departure of Gasca, but they shortly subsided under the
wise and temperate rule of his successors, who profited by his policy
and example; and finally the royal authority was as completely
established in Peru as in any other portion of the Spanish colonial
possessions.
In the subsequent history of Peru there occurs little of
interest to the general reader till the time of the war of
independence. The whole of the Spanish dominions in the
New World were at first divided into two governments,
one subject to the viceroy of Mexico, and the other to the
viceroy of Peru. In 1718 the province of Quito was sepa¬
rated from Peru and annexed to New Granada, and in 1788
the provinces of La Plata, Potosi, Charcas, Chiquitos, and
Paraguay were detached from Peru to form the government
of Buenos Ayres. Each of these governments constituted
a viceroyalty; while Guatemala, Venezuela, Caraccas, Cu-
mana, and Chile were severally formed into distinct jurisdic¬
tions under a captain-general. In 1780 an insurrection
broke out among the Indians in Peru, under Tapac Amaro,
who assumed the title of Inca, but it was at length sup¬
pressed. Peru did not join in the celebrated war of inde¬
pendence that broke out among the Spanish possessions in
South America in 1810, and it was the last to throw off the
Spanish yoke. It soon became evident, however, that the
expulsion of the Spaniards from Peru w'as necessary to the
safety of the other states; and hence a combined Chilean and
Buenos Ayrean army, under San Martin, laid siege to Lima
in February 1821. At the same time, the fleet under the
command of Lord Cochrane blockaded Caliao, and it wras
here that that gallant officer performed one of those despe¬
rate feats of'valour for which he is characterized. "With the
boats of his little squadron he entered the port of Callao,
and under the guns of its tremendous batteries boaide ,
captured, and carried off one of the largest of the Spams i
ships of war, with more men on board than were in all t e
boats that attacked it. After some months, a convention
was agreed to, when Lascerna, the Spanish genera, witi
his army, left Lima, and San Martin took possession of the
city- On the 28th of July 1821 the independence of Peru
was declared; and a few days afterwards San Martin was
proclaimed protector. Among the first legislative acts of
the protectorate was a decree declaring that the chil ren
of slaves born in Peru subsequently to the 28th of July 18M
should be free. This was followed by another abolishing
the tribute, and enacting that the aborigines be thence¬
forth denominated Peruvians like the Creoles. On he
21st of September the fortress of Callao suirendered t° * ®
protector. The success of the patriots, however, received
a check in the defeat of General 1 ristan. He had the
command of a body of troops at lea, and had allowed him¬
self to be surprised, and his retreat cut off, by Canterac,
who took 1000 prisoners, besides some pieces of artillery
and other spoil. This reverse, however, was counteracted
by the victory gained over the royalists at Pinchincha on
the 24th of May 1822. The protector did not long re¬
tain his popularity; deputies were summoned; and he
resigned his poweV into their hands on 21st of September
1822. Congress lost no time in appointing a new execu-
tivejunder the title of the Junta Gubernativa. One of the
Peru.
468 P E
Peru, first acts of that assembly was to decree that San Martin
' should bear the title of “ Founder of the Liberty of Peru
and the thanks of the nation were likewise awarded to
Lord Cochrane for his achievements in the Peruvian cause.
The proceedings of the new government were marked by
feebleness and discord. An unsuccessful attempt to reduce
the royalists increased popular clamour against the govern¬
ment junta, which was at last expelled from power, and
General Don Jose de la Riva Aguero was made president
of the republic.
Santa Cruz, a Peruvian, who in the sequel greatly
distinguished himself, assumed the chief command of
the army; and it was determined in a council of war to
make another effort in the Puertos Intermedios. Whilst
they were employed in this enterprise, General Sucte ar¬
rived at Lima with 3000 Colombian troops; but this force,
with 2000 Peruvians, partly militia and partly the wreck of
ii former army, was found insufficient for the protection of
the capital, against which Canterac advanced at the head of
9000 well-disciplined men. Lima was accordingly aban¬
doned by the patriots, and immediately taken possession of
by the royalists, who, however, soon afterwards evacuated it,
after having exacted heavy contributions from the remain¬
ing inhabitants, and destroyed the mint. Both Generals
Santa Cruz and Sucre, who with a united army might have
accomplished something of moment, proved unsuccessful;
and the former allowed himself to be out-generalled by Can¬
terac. The cause of independence in Peru seemed hang¬
ing by a thread, which it required little exertion to break,
when the celebrated Bolivar made his appearance in Lima
on the 1st of September 1823. He was received with the
greatest enthusiasm, and was immediately invested with
supreme authority, military and political. Great activity
was now infused into the measures of government; and act¬
ing in the capacity of dictator, Bolivar dissolved Congress,
and levied an army, with which he sallied from the capital
on the second week of November. Riya Aguero refused
to join him, and was imprisoned by his own troops, who
immediately submitted to the dictator. But a fresh mis-
tortune awaited the patriots in the mutiny of the soldiers at
Callao. The consequence was, that this town, along with
the city of Lima, once more fell into the hands of the
royalists. The cause of independence in Peru now seemed
desperate ; but the conduct of Bolivar at this critical mo¬
ment is deserving of the highest praise. By his firmness,
activity, and seasonable severities, he checked further de¬
fections, and obtained the respect and entiie confidence of
every true patriot.
In the month of July 1824 the liberating army com¬
menced its march towards Pasco in three divisions, two of
which were Colombians, headed by Generals Lai a and
Cordova; and one was Peruvian, under Lamar. General
Sucre was chief of the staff of the whole army. In his pre¬
paratory measures for facilitating the passage of the troops
on a march of 200 leagues, through the most moun¬
tainous region in the world, this officer displayed great skill,
and the army reached the old Pasco district in safety, and
unmolested by the royalists. Various manoeuvres now took
place; and in an action of cavalry at Junin the patriots in¬
flicted a severe blow on their adversaries. A series of
marches and countermarches occupied the months of August,
September, October, and November; and on the 6th of
December the patriots reached the village of Quinua; whilst
the royalists, by entering Guamangilla, cut off their retreat,
and placed them in an extremely critical situation. On the
8th, the viceroy Lascerna moved from this position, and
occupied with his whole force the heights of Condorkanki,
within gun-shot of the encampment of the patriots. Be¬
tween the opposing armies lay the plain of Ayacucho. It
is in shape nearly square, about a league in circumference,
and flanked right and left by deen and rugged ravines. The
R U.
eastern boundary is formed by the abrupt and savage ridge Peru,
of Condorkanki, whilst the western extremity is the Indian
village Quinua, a little distance in front of which lay the
patriot army, not 6000 strong, that of the royalists being
fully one-third more numerous. Next morning, the 9th
of December 1824, the conflict took place, and continued
for about an hour, when the royalists were defeated with
great loss. Indeed their army may be said to have been
almost annihilated; for 3200 rank and file, amongst whom
was the viceroy, were made prisoners of war, the re¬
mainder dispersing in a state of total disorganization in all
directions. The battle of Ayacucho is pronounced by Mr
Miller “the most brilliant ever fought in South America;”
and it may be considered as the last regular engagement,
although not the last struggle, in which Spain was engaged
for the recovery of her revolted colonies. Rodil still held
out at Callao for the mother country with the most despe¬
rate tenacity. For thirteen months he sustained, unaided,
bombardments both by sea and land, rendered still more
terrible by the accumulated miseries of pestilence and
famine. At length he capitulated upon honourable terms
on the 19th of January 1826; and thus the last link of the
chain which had bound America to the Spanish crown was
finally broken.
Bolivar continued dictator till the month of July 1825,
when he resigned, and placed at the head of affairs a
council of government composed of his own ministers. To¬
wards the end of 1826 he promulgated a new constitution,
according to which the executive was to be vested in an
irresponsible president elected for life. This new constitution
excited great discontent among the people; but it was ac¬
cepted by the electoral colleges, and Bolivar was named
president. The people were further incensed by the pre¬
sence of the Colombian troops ; and soon after, Bolivar
being called away to quell an insurrection in Colombia, an
open revolt broke out in Peru. The Colombian troops were
expelled from the country, a Congress was assembled at
Lima, and the Bolivian constitution abolished. On the
18th of June 1827 a new constitution was promulgated, and
General Lamar named president. An increased dissatis¬
faction between Colombia and Peru at length led to a de¬
claration of war between the two states ; and Lamar entered
the Colombian territory at the head of a considerable army.
A battle took place on Tarqui, near Jiron in Quito, on
the 27th of February 1829, in which the Peruvians were
defeated, and the next day preliminaries of peace were
agreed to. The imbecility manifested by Lamar on this
occasion gave rise to a conspiracy against him, and he was
deposed in the month of June by General Gamarra, wdio
convoked a Congress, and caused himself to be nominated
president. He retained office for the four years designated
by the constitution ; and at the end of this term a conven¬
tion was convoked to reform the constitution. The re¬
formed constitution was promulgated in the month of Au¬
gust 1834, and General Orbegoso was named president.
In January 1835 General Salaverry, who commanded the
garrison at Callao, instigated the troops to declare against
the government at Lima, and took possession of that city,
declaring himself supreme chief of the republic. The
president Orbegoso, who was at this time in the southern
provinces, finding himself unable to cope with Salaverry, ap¬
plied for aid to Santa Cruz, president of the Bolivian repub¬
lic. That general accordingly entered Peru with an army,
and joining forces with Orbegoso, the combined army came
up with the enemy at Cuzco. Salaverry had committed the
command of his army to Gamarra, remaining himsell at
Lima. The battle took place at Yauacocha on the 13th of
August, when Gamarra was totally defeated, the greater
part of his troops having gone over in a body to the enemy.
Salaverry lost no time in preparing to meet the enemy; and
having collected a body of about 2500 men, posted him-
PERU.
469
self on the heights of Challapampo, to the north of Are-
quipa. Towards the end of January 1836, the united forces
of Orbegoso and Santa Cruz, amounting to double the num¬
ber of those of Salaverry, advanced to attack him; but he
had fortified himself in such a manner that they were
obliged to have recourse to stratagem. This was the adop¬
tion of a retrograde movement, which led the enemy to
believe that they were in full retreat, and drew them tiom
their strong position. Santa Cruz, seizing the favouiable
moment, fell upon them with great vigour. The contest
was obstinate ; but the issue was not long doubtful. Sala¬
verry was completely defeated, and himself and most of
his army taken prisoners. Salaverry, with seven other
officers, were tried by a court-martial, condemned to death,
and shot on the 18th of February. Lima, Callao, and the
rest of Peru immediately submitted to the conquerors.
Santa Cruz having succeeded in establishing tranquillity,
now assumed the supreme power; and, dividing the countiy
into North and South Peru, he conjoined it with Bolivia,
nominating himself supreme protector of the thi ee states.
This arrangement met with a powerful opposition both in
Peru and Bolivia, and also brought him into collision with
the republic of Chile. At length, in January 1839, a
bloody battle was fought at Yungay, in which Santa Cruz
was defeated, and driven out of the country. The confe¬
deration was thus brought to a close, and the two countries,
Peru and Bolivia, returned to their former limits and forms
of government. In Peru a Congress was convoked, which,
in November 1839, gave out a new constitution, and no¬
minated General Gamarra, who had commanded the Chile-
Peruvian troops, president of the republic. General Ga¬
marra died in November 1841, and Senor Menendez,
president of the council of state, entered into power, but was
deposed in the month of August 1842 by General lorico.
A civil war followed, and the government passed succes¬
sively into the hands of General Vidal, Senor Figuerola,
and General Vivanco. In 1844 the civil war was brought
to an end by General Castilla, and Menendez replaced in
power. A Congress was called in accordance with the
provisions of the constitution, and General Don Ramon
Castilla was elected president, and entered upon office on
the 1st of April 1845. Castilla completed his six constitu¬
tional years of office, and under his rule the country en¬
joyed great peace and prosperity. His successor, General
Echenique, assumed the supreme power on 1st April 1851,
but the people soon became dissatisfied with him. His
government was accused of committing the grossest frauds
against the national credit by issuing vales de consolidacion
on fictitious grounds; and hence the financial reputation
of Peru fell into the lowest state of discredit. At length
the people rose against the government, and, headed by
Castilla, gained a decisive victory at the Palma, close to
Lima, in the early part of 1855, and Echenique was driven
from power. After the expulsion of Echenique, Vivanco
stirred up an insurrection against Castilla, and having gained
over the commanders of three of the government steamers,
he was able to convey his troops rapidly from place to place,
and thus maintained the struggle for some time. At Callao
he suffered a severe repulse, and afterwards he congre¬
gated his forces in the town of Arequipa, a place which had
always remained attached to him. His steamers prevented
all approach by sea; and at one time they held possession
of the Chincha Islands, with their guano treasures. For¬
tunately the war was at length brought to a close in March
last (1858), by the taking, by assault, of Arequipa, after a
most obstinate and heroic defence by Vivanco and his
adherents, the number of killed and wounded amounting to
about 3000. The confidence in Castilla’s government is
evinced in the fact, that the vales de consolidacion have
risen in Peru from 43 to 80 per cent. Though slavery had
been abolished by the charter of independence, yet it still
Peru.
continued to be carried on till prohibited by the present
governor in 1855. He has also freed the Indians from
the unjust capital tax to which they had been subject
since the time of the Spaniards. Among the other changes
that have been introduced is a law by which illegitimate
children are entitled to one-fifth part of the moveable pro¬
perty of their parent. The punishment of death for poli¬
tical offences has also been abolished.
The name Peru was not known to the early inhabitants, Name,
but was given to the country by the Spaniards; and is said
to be a corruption of the word Pelu, the Indian name for
“river,” and mistaken by the Spaniards for the name of the
country. The name given to it by the natives was Tavan-
tinsuyu, or “ four quarters of the world.”
The most distinguishing natural feature of Peru, and pkys'c»^
that from which the country derives its peculiar aspect andc aracte1''
character, is the vast chain of the Andes, which traverses it
in a direction from S.S.E. to N.N.W. The country is thus
naturally divided into three distinct regions, differing widely
from each other in their physical characteristics, and fami¬
liarly known as La Costa, or the region between the sea
and the Andes; La Sierra, or the mountain region ; and
La Montana, or the wooded region to the E. of the Andes,
forming part of the basin of the Amazon.
La Costa, or the coast region, extends the entire length Coast,
of the country, but its average breadth is not more than 30
miles. In some places it does not exceed 10, but in others
it is more than 58 miles in width. With all its extent of
coast, Peru has few good harbours, probably not more than
a dozen in all. The best are those of Payta, Salinas, Callao,
Pisco, Islay, Arica, and Iquique. The water on the coast
being almost uniformly deep, vessels are obliged to approach
within a quarter of a mile of the shore before they can anchor;
and as the great swell of the Pacific occasions a heavy and
dangerous surf, landing with boats is both difficult and ha¬
zardous. The operation, however, is effected with ease and
safety bv means of balsas or rafts, constructed usually of cane,
and supported by means of inflated seal-skins, d he coast
region is almost one continuous sandy waste, where no ram
falls, and where neither plant nor animal can obtain subsist¬
ence. Vegetation is only to be met with along the banks
of the streams that come down from the high lands. Many
of these are dry for the greater part of the year, and only a
few of them are perennial. Some of the larger streams
reach the sea, but the smaller ones are absorbed by the
encompassing desert, or exhausted in irrigating the culti¬
vated patches. The insulated river valleys are thus the
only habitable parts of the coast, and they aie frojniOto
90 miles apart. The rest of the region is coveied with a
fine light-yellow drift-sand. It presents, however great
inequalities of surface, being frequently intersected by
sand-hillocks called medanos, which are soraetimesofcon
Adorable size Some of these are permanent, but others
about with great velocity by the wlueh
when violent, frequently raises columns of sand to the
height of 80 or 100 feet. The rainless region extends to
theheight of about 7000 feet above the level of the sea;
but to the height of about 2000 feet above the sea the
coast region is periodically refreshed by sea vapours or
drizzle, called garua. These vapours prevail from May to
November, and are most dense and abundant towards he
end of June, when the lomas or hillocks bordering the
sand-flats become covered with a luxuriant vegetation. At
Lima this coast vegetation is most abundant in the months
of July, August, and September. The heat of this region
is not so excessive as might be supposed ; and during sum¬
mer the thermometer rarely rises above 8o : the mean
annual temperature is 72°, the maximum 82 , and the mini¬
mum 55° In this district are produced most of the plants
of tropical countries. The plantain, banana, pine-apple,
sugar-cane, vine, cocoa, olive, coffee, and cotton, as well as
the most delicious fruits, some peculiar to the country,
arrive at great perfection. Maize, rice, wheat, barley, and
potatoes are also cultivated. (See two papers, by Dr Archi¬
bald Smith, on the Climate of Peru, in the Edin. Neio Phil.
Jour, for October 1857 and January 1858.)
The district called Sierra, or highlands of Peru, com¬
mences immediately above the rainless district, at 7000 feet
above the level of the sea, and extends to the eastern chain
of the Andes. The Andes here consist of two main
chains or cordilleras, running nearly parallel to each other,
and connected in various parts by cross ridges ; but they do
not in general rise to such a height as in Bolivia. The
eastern cordillera from Bolivia preserves its grand charac¬
ter northward to 13. S. Lat., being composed of a series of
snowy peaks, which terminate in the Nevada de Sacantahi;
but N. of this no snow-capped mountains occur. In the
western chain, near 15., a considerable portion of the range
is covered with snow; S.E. of Lima the Toldo de Nieve
rises above the snow-line ; and between 11. and 11. 30. is
the elevated summit of La Vinda, nearly 16,000 feet in
height, and the nevadas of Pelagotas, Mayapota, and Huay-
lillas. Between the last mentioned and Chimborazo in Ecu¬
ador none of the summits of this chain attain the snow¬
line. The chains of the E. and W. cordilleras are usually
about 100 miles apart. South of 11. S. Lat., the country
between the two chains consists properly of two inclined
planes sloping down from the Andes of Vilcanota and the
table-land of Pasco, and separated from each other by the
water-line of the Mataro, a feeder of the Apurimac, near
12. S. The southern plane lies at a great elevation, the
town of Cuzco being 11,380 feet above the level of the
sea; but even here wheat and Indian corn are raised, and
farther N., where the country is considerably lower, the
sugar-cane is cultivated. The surface is by no means level,
being traversed by various ridges of hills, which rise several
hundred feet above their bases. The northern plane has a
very similar surface; and contiguous to the western cordil¬
lera it forms an undulating valley 40 miles wide, which is
drained by the Jauja, and which, on account of its fertility,
is one of the best peopled districts of Peru. In the lower
part of this valley the sugar-cane succeeds well; while the
higher produces cereals and fruits in abundance. To the
N. is the table-land of Pasco, which lies between 11. and
10. 30. S., and, with the exception of a few miners’ huts in
the regions of permanent snow, is the highest inhabited part
of the Andes. Were it not for the rich mines which it
possesses, it would have remained a sheep-walk. Its sur¬
face presents several low but steep ranges of hills, with
level grounds between them. These level tracts are from
13,000 to 14,000 feet above the sea, or about 1500 feet
below the snow-line in this latitude. The climate is ex¬
ceedingly cold all the year round, and unfavourable to any
kind of cultivation. In the numerous and deep lakes
which cover a considerable part of its surface, the rivers
Maranon, Huallaga, and Ucayale take their rise. The
northern portion of the Peruvian Andes consists of three
cordilleras, of which the western contains the nevadas
already mentioned. The central chain is connected with
the table-land of Pasco, and runs parallel with the western
chain to about 7°, their summits being about 50 miles
apart; but northward of this parallel the chain runs N.E.
to its termination on the banks of the Amazon. In the
northern portion of this central chain a few summits
occur which rise above the snow-line. The eastern cor¬
dillera is connected with the mountain system of the
eastern border of the table-land of Pasco, and runs in
a direction parallel with the central chain, terminating
near 6° S., opposite an offset of the central range, which here
comes close up to the Huallaga. The highest summits
of this range are towards the S., but probably none of them
much exceed 15,000 feet in height. Toward the N. they
sink down to mere hills. Of the two valleys inclosed Peru,
by these three ranges, the western, or that of the Ma-
ranon, is very narrow in its southern parts, and here the
river is one continuous series of rapids and falls until it
reaches 8°, where it enters a wider valley, which spreads
out to 20 miles in width. This wider valley gradually
subsides from 3000 to 2000 feet above the level of the
sea. Its climate is consequently very hot, and its fer¬
tile soil is capable of producing all the intertropical plants
and fruits. The eastern valley is drained by the Huallaga.
It slopes very rapidly, from 5000 in 10° to 2000 in 9°, and
in its fertility, climate, and produce resembles the valley
of the Maranon. Dr Smith, in speaking of the climates of
the Sierra, says,—“ On Ascending above the rain-line, a
sparse vegetation at first appears, which gradually improves
at every step, until the valleys of the Sierra open out into
wide pasture-lands up to the snow-line, with many villages
and farms all over the ridges and hollows of the mountains.
When the western cordillera is crossed, the descent leads
into a wide and open district of treeless undulating surface
covered with flocks and herds of sheep, llamas, vecuhas,
horses, mules, and horned cattle, &c. But from these lofty
and inclement grounds valleys of different depth and tem¬
perature dip off in all directions, making the Sierra as a whole
a region of the most varied climate and production. Asa
central point of Andine climate, we may take Cerro Pasco
as an example. * * * * The wet season is from
November to May (just the contrary to what it is on the
coast); but December, January, February, and March are
the more disagreeable months, the streets being then all
wet and slushy. The weather varies extremely, not merely
in the course of the same day, but within a very few hours,
during which there maybe rapid variations of snow, rain, hail,
and sleet, gleams of sunshine, high and fluctuating gusts of
wind, sudden obscuration from dense clouds drifting in the
atmospheric currents, with flashes of lightning, and peals of
thunder rolling among the mountain-peaks. For the other
six months of the dry season, showers of hail, snow', or
rain are only occasional and rare, the prevailing weather
being sunny and cheerful by day, and dry and frosty by
night. The thermometer of Fahrenheit I found to be about
42° by day, and 36° by night, in the wet season ; but in the
dry season the night indications fell to 30°, or under.”
{Edin. New. Phil. Jour., vol. vii., pp. 50-1.)
Presenting as it does almost every variety of climate, the
vegetation of this region is extremely varied in its charac¬
ter, from the gigantic growth of the tropics to the dwarf
plants of Lapland. In this mountainous district are si¬
tuated the famous gold and silver mines of Peru. It like¬
wise contains the sources of those vast rivers which traverse
the continent of South America. Here the Maranon com¬
mences its course, and here rise its magnificent tributaries,
the Ucayale, Huallaga, and others, which themselves are
swelled by an innumerable multitude of streams descend¬
ing from the eastern ridges of the Andes,—all being finally
absorbed in the mighty Amazon.
But by far the most beautiful and valuable part of Montana,
the Peruvian territory is the Montana, or w'ooded region,
which lies to the E. of the Andes., commencing on the
eastern declivity of the second chain, and stretching to the
confines of Brazil and Bolivia. After crossing the Andes,
and descending a few hundred feet lower in the direction
of the E., the traveller beholds a country totally different
from that which he has left—a country richly covered with
a luxuriant vegetation. So far as we are acquainted with
this region, and as yet it is only imperfectly known, it
seems to rival in fertility, and in the luxuriance and variety
of its vegetation, even the finest parts of Brazil. “ Here,”
says Dr Poeppig, “ are plains traversed by lower hills
covered with an ocean of foliage, vieing in beauty with the
climate of Chile, and far surpassing it in the abundance and
r
PERU.
471
Peru.
Rivers.
luxuriance of its productions.” Dr Lorente, as cited by
Dr Smith in speaking of the district of Chanchamayo,
sayS ;—44 Here everything is on Nature’s great scale. The
whole country is one continuous forest, which, beginning
at different heights, presents an undulating aspect. One
moves on his way with trees before, above, and beneath
him, in a deep abyss like the ocean. And in these woods,
as on the immensity of the waters, the mind is bewildered ;
whatever way it directs the eye, there it meets the majesty
of the Infinite. The marvels of nature are in these regions
so common, that one becomes accustomed to behold with¬
out emotion trees whose tops exceed the height of 100
varas (290 English feet), with a proportionate thickness,
beyond the belief of such as never saw them; and, sup¬
porting on their trunks a hundred different plants, they in¬
dividually present rather the appearance of a small planta¬
tion than one great tree. It is only after you leave the
woods, and ordinary objects of comparison present them¬
selves to the mind, that you can realize in thought the co¬
lossal stature of these samples of Montana vegetation.”
The entire region is watered by the Huallaga, Ucayale,
and Maranon, with numerous subsidiary streams. Ihe
vast plains in which the declivities of the Andes terminate
are called sometimes Pampas del Sacramento, or, more
usually, Collona, or the “Land of the Missions.” This name
they owe to the Jesuits, whose zeal for the conversion of
the natives induced them to penetrate these trackless soli¬
tudes. They planted a number of settlements, and by
collecting in villages the rude inhabitants, attempted to
civilize them not only by instilling into their minds the
doctrines of religion, but by teaching them such arts as
their uncultivated natural talents enabled them to acquire.
Some of these missions still exist. Numerous tribes of
wild Indians are scattered over the country, differing from
each other in character and language. Some of them are
mild and docile, while others are warlike and savage, and
continually in a state of hostility to each other. Ihe heat
here is not so oppressive as might be expected, being al¬
layed by refreshing breezes that generally prevail. At Sa-
rayacu the maximum temperature is about 85°, the mini¬
mum 74°. The rainy season prevails from November to
May, during which it often rains for a week without inter¬
mission. The dry season is very agreeable, and though,
where cleared of wood, the surface becomes parched, the
moisture is always preserved a little below ; so that there is
no need of irrigation. The vegetable productions of the
Montana are numerous. Besides valuable woods, as cedar,
ebony, mahogany, walnut, &c., there are pine-apples,
almonds, lemons, oranges, citrons, and other fruits; and
cacao, cinnamon, guaiacum, cinchona, sarsaparilla, vanilla,
black wax, storax, dragon’s blood, oil of Maria, gum-carana,
balsam of copaiba, copal, and many other gums, balsams,
resins, and oils. Maize is everywhere cultivated, and rice
is grown on the marshy banks of the rivers. Jobacco,
cotton, indigo, and the sugar-cane are not among the least
important of its products.
The rivers of Peru that fall into the Pacific are all short
in their courses, shallow, and generally rapid. They are
consequently useless for navigation, and serve only to irri¬
gate the adjacent lands. The great rivers of Peru are the
Maranon, Huallaga, and Ucayale, which drain the whole
country E. of the W. cordillera, and constitute the prin¬
cipal branches of the River Amazon. They are for the
most part navigable, and will doubtless at some future
period serve, by means of steam navigation, to convey the
wealth of this vast region to the ports on the Atlantic. Mr
Markham, who in 1853 explored a portion of the Purus, an
affluent of the Amazon which separates Peru from Bolivia,
says,—“If once the Madre de Dios or Purus was thoroughly
explored, the effects it would have on the industry and
future prospects of Peru are incalculable. The people ot
Peru.
the interior of that beautiful country, the ancient empire of
the Incas, would at length succeed in turning the granite
barrier of the Andes ; a port might be established near
Paucar-tambo, and another at the mouth of the Purus ; an
inland navigation would waft the varied productions of the
interior of Peru—its bark, sarsaparilla, copaiba, and in¬
dia-rubber ; its sugar, cocoa, cotton, and tobacco ; its al¬
paca wool, silver, and precious stones,—by a direct and
easy route to the Old World; and the dangerous journeys
across the cordilleras, and long and tedious voyages round
Cape Horn, would be avoided.” {Geog. Soc. Jour., 1855.)
The lakes of Peru, with the exception of Titicaca, are of kakes-
small size. Lauricocha is interesting as the source of the
Maranon; the Chinchacocha gives rise to the river Jauja;
and the small lake of Uros, to the south of Cuzco, is cele¬
brated from the tradition that a chain of gold made to ce¬
lebrate the birth of Huasca Inca was thrown into it. Titi¬
caca is about 100 geographical miles in length from N.W.
to S.E., and about 40 in greatest width. It is situated on
a table-land surrounded by mountains, and is about 13,000
feet above the level of the sea. It contains several islands,
the largest of which is about 20 miles in circumference.
The geological character of this country has as yet been Geology,
but very imperfectly investigated. Red sandstone is fre¬
quent on the coast, and also in the interior. Granite and
porphyry occur on the coast; but the prevailing rocks on
the sierras are trachite, augite, and diorite ; though granite
and porphyry are also common. In a journey from Lima to
the summit of the western cordillera, along the course of the
Rimac, Dr Smith noted in succession the following rocks:
Coarse-grained granite, syenitic granite, syenite, felspai
porphyry, trachite porphyry, and porphyry. At this stage
of the series a band of syenitic greenstone or porphyry, with
actinolite, crops out across the road above Matucana (at the
elevation of about 8000 feet). From this point to San
Mateo, through a deep and narrow gorge of about 4 leagues
in extent, the rocks, in ascending succession, are, prophyritic
greenstone, trap, porphyry, and quartz; on opposite sides o
the ravine, trap and limestone. About San Mateo (esti¬
mated at nearly 11,000 feet above the sea) he found green¬
stone ; and in the steep ascent above this village, schist,
porphyritic greenstone, and porphyry. l)roni *?na’ a
few leagues above San Mateo, to the foot of the cordillera,
the prevailing rock is conglomerate, and the surrounding
soil of a reddish colour. On approaching the couhlleia
pass by Tucto, the mule path leads over the iron-giay de¬
bris of the porphyritic Andine peaks which adjoin the si ver
mines of Alpamina, in a matrix of limestone above the line
of perpetual snow. (See Peru ( s> vo • ’ '
The sides of the valleys between I iticaca and Cuzco aie
formed chiefly of clay-slate. Round Arequipa, and thence
to Titicaca, the soil fs all volcanic ; but
crater in the district, though the cone of Aiequipa st If
emits smoke. Earthquakes are frequent, and occasionally
VepemShaUsClong bee^famout for its wealth in the precious Minerals,
metals especially gold and silver. The latter is the more
rmrimoi^and is widely distributed over the country. Ihe
principal5 mining regions are those of Hualgayoc, near Micm-
pampa; Gualanca in Huamalies; Pasco; Lucanas; and
Huantajaya; but small mines of it are worked secretly all
over the country. The treasures contained in the Cerro
de Fernando, at Hualgayoc, were first discovered in 77 ,
and there are now about 1400 pits opened in the hill. Cerro
de Pasco is hardly inferior in mineral wealth to Potosi; and
the hill on which the town stands is completely undermined,
most of the openings to which are within the houses of the
miners in the town itself. The richest gold mines or dig¬
gings are about Huaylas and Tarma. Most of the rivers
from the Andes bring down auriferous sand.. Quicksilvei
is likewise found, but in such small quantities as not to
472 ■ PE
Peru, repay the labour of the miners. The only quicksilver
vein of any magnitude is at Huancavelica. Both mountain
chains are very rich in copper ore, but it is only worked
on the western cordillera, as the distance of the other from
the coast renders the transport too expensive. The lead
and iron mines, though prolific, are not worked, the price
of these metals being too small to repay the expense of
working. Coal has been discovered in the Cerro de
Pasco, and brown coal is found in the sandy deserts N. of
Arica. In the province of Tarapaca is a forest of prostrate
trees buried beneath the sand, which affords excellent fuel,
and is much used in the preparation of nitre. It is neither
charred nor petrified, and burns with a flame as bright as
that of common wood. In the S., and chiefly in the mari¬
time province of Tarapaca, are extensive deposits of salt,
nitre, and nitrate of soda. The Pampa, or great plain of
Tamarugal, which extends the whole length of the province,
running N. into the province of Arica, and S. into the
desert of Atacama, and about 30 miles wide, abounds
with salt, nitrate of soda, and other saline bodies. The
principal deposits of nitrate of soda are found on the west¬
ern side of the Pampa, at some distance from the coast,
in approaching which it seems as if it gradually transferred
itself into salt. The beds are insulated deposits, varying
much in size and shape—in thickness from 6 inches to as
many feet, and in depth, beneath the surface crust of
earth and clay, from one inch to many feet. Among the
other salts found in the vicinity may be enumerated car¬
bonate and sulphate of soda, biborates of lime and soda,
magnesian alum, and chlorate of sodium. Traces of iodine
exist in the nitrate, and in most of the waters in the plain
traces of boracic acid have been discovered. The exist¬
ence of nitrate of soda in Tarapaca has been known in
Europe for about a century, but it is only recently that its
value has been found out. In 1820 some of it was sent to
England, but the duty being so high, it was thrown over¬
board. In 1830 a cargo was sent to the United States, but
was found unsaleable ; and a portion of it sent to Liverpool
met with no better success. In 1831 another cargo was
sent to England, and by this time it had become better
known, and sold as high as 30s. to 40s. the cwt. From 1830
to 1850 the exports of this mineral from Iquique, the prin¬
cipal port of the province, amounted to 239,860 tons. Vast
deposits of salt occur not only on the coast, but even on
the Sierra. To the E. of the volcano of Isluga commences
an extensive salt plain, said to extend to Challaputo and the
insulated Cordillera del Frayle, 40 leagues distant, and near
to Potosi, varying in breadth from 3 to 8 leagues, the salt
being from 5 to 10 inches thick. The elevation of this
plain is at least 14,000 teet.
Vegetable The more important of the vegetable productions have
produc- already been noticed. Among those which at present con-
uons, &c. gtjtute articles of use and commerce are,—coffee, sugar,
wheat, barley, maize, rice, potatoes, copaiba, sarsaparilla,
Peruvian bark (cinchona), cotton, cocoa, indigo, tobacco,
caoutchouc. In describing the qualities of some of these,
and the quantities in which they are produced, Thadeus
Haenke observes:—“ The cocoa of Apolobamba, of Moxos,
of Yuracarees, and of all the woods which extend from
thence to the shores of the Maranon, is infinitely superior
to that of Guayaquil. The finest quality of cascarilla is
only found on the eastern side of the Andes ; of the indigo
there is no end ; I can say the same of the cotton and
the rice. The precious balsam of copaiba, the sarsaparilla,
the gum-elastic, and the most fragrant species of vanilla,
are all produced in an extraordinary abundance in these
regions. The mighty forests which line the shores of the
rivers abound in the finest timber for all uses, especially for
ship-building, and in trees distilling the most aromatic and
medicinal gums. Among others, there is a species of cinna¬
mon, called by the natives canela de clavo, which only differs
R U.
in the greater thickness of the bark and its darker colour, Peru,
according to its age, from that found in the East Indies, and
which is as fragrant as the spice from which it takes its
name (clove).” (Geog. Soc. Jour., vol. v., 1835.) The
grapes are so abundant in some parts that large quantities
of wine might be made for exportation; but no more is
produced than is needed, and a little is even imported.
Strong liquors, such as brandy and rum, are distilled; and
oil is made from the olive. The various kinds of capsi¬
cums are cultivated with more attention and skill than
almost any other plants; and when dressed in various ways
with garlic, form an important article of food to the greater
portion of the inhabitants. Paraguay tea has now ceased
to be a common beverage. A liquor in universal use is the
chicha, which, from having been found in the tombs of the
aborigines, is proved to have been used by them prior to
the conquest. The chicha of the present day is of the
consistence of milk, of a yellowish colour, and when poured
from one vessel into another, froths like beer. Its taste is
generally acid ; but when very fresh, the acidity is scarcely
perceptible. It is made by steeping Indian corn in water
till it swells, after which it is dried and ground. The flour
and bran are boiled in water, strained, and left to ferment
for four-and-twenty hours, when it is fit for use. There is
a fruit called chouta, from which the Indians prepare an
intoxicating liquor; but the great nervous stimulant used
by them is the coca, which is very extensively cultivated,
and has become an indispensable necessary of life. 1 he
coca plant (Erythroxylon coca) is from 6 to 8 feet in length,
and somewhat resembles a black thorn in its numerous small
white blossoms and the lively bright green colour of its
leaves. The latter are gathered and carefully dried, and
then finely packed in woollen sacks and covered with sand.
The coca-leaf is to the Indian of the interior a necessary of
life. Each individual carries a leathern pouch containing a
supply of coca-leaves, and a small flask gourd filled with
pulverized unslaked lime. Three or four times a day, or
oftener, he suspends his labour to chaccha or masticate his
coca, to which a slight admixture of the powdered lime
gives a relish, and is said to counteract the natural tend¬
ency of the coca to give rise to visceral obstructions.
Deleterious and dire results are commonly attributed to
the use of this narcotic; and Dr Poeppig, in his Travels
in Chili and Peru, &c., draws a melancholy picture of the
dreadful effects of this insinuating drug, and of the diseases
to which it gives rise. It is asserted, however, by those
best able to judge, that these effects are vastly overrated;
and some even maintain that, when used in moderation, it
may be even conducive to health. Among the latter is Dr
J. Von Tschudi, who refers to the numerous instances of
longevity among the Indians, who almost, from the age of
boyhood, have been in the habit of masticating coca three
times a day, and who nevertheless have enjoyed perfect
health. (Travels in Peru, 1847.) Dr Archibald Smith,
a physician of long experience in the country, says that,
“ Used in moderate quantity, the coca, when fresh and good,
increases nervous energy, removes drowsiness, enlivens the
spirits, and enables the Indian to bear cold, wet, great
bodily exertion, and even want of food, to a surprising
degree, with apparent ease and impunity. Taken to excess,
it is said to occasion tremor in the limbs, and what is worse,
a gloomy sort of mania. But such dire effects must be of
rare occurrence; since, living for years on the borders of
the Montana, and in constant intercourse with persons ac¬
customed to frequent the coca plantations, and with Indian
yanacones or labourers, all of whom, whether old or young,
masticated this favourite leaf, we never had an opportunity
of witnessing a single instance in which the coca-chewer
was affected with mania or tremor.” (Peru as it Is, Lon¬
don, 1839.)
Among the wild animals of Peru are the puma, jaguar,
,
t
Peru.
Animals.
Manufac¬
tures.
Trade.
PERU.
473
bear, deer, wild boar, fox, skunk, armadillo, sloth, and
several species of monkey. Alligators are met with in the
rivers, and seals are common on the coast. Tortoises fre¬
quent in great numbers the inlets of the coast. Several
species of serpents are found, but they are rather rare. A
viper of a very poisonous nature inhabits the sugar-cane
fields, and its bite is almost instantaneously mortal. On
the shores of Peru are myriads of sea-birds, to whom we
are indebted for that valuable manure, guano. Of land
birds, falcons, hawks, owls, pigeons, &c., abound. There
are four varieties of condor, and the common carrion-vulture
frequents the cities and towns. Most valuable among the
animals indigenous to the country are the Peruvian sheep,
of which there are four varieties—the llama, alpaca, guanaco,
and vicuna. The first of these is the least valuable on ac¬
count of its wool, and was chiefly employed by the ancient
inhabitants as a beast of burden. Its wool is long and
rough, and is used only in the manufacture of coarse cloths.
Though the introduction of horses, asses, and mules into
the country since the conquest has rendered the llama less
necessary as a beast of burden, it is still much used for that
purpose. They usually travel in large flocks at the rate of
three or four leagues a day, and each carrying about a hun¬
dredweight. The alpaca or paco is smaller than the llama,
and yields a very fine, long, soft wool, which is now largely
imported into England and other countries. They are
kept in large flocks on the heights. The guanaco is the
largest of the four varieties, and very much resembles the
llama in form. They usually roam in a wild state in groups
of four or five on the upper declivities of the western cordil¬
lera. The wool is shorter and coarser than that of the llama.
The vicuna is in size between the llama and the alpaca,
and is a more beautiful animal than any of the other varie¬
ties. They inhabit the cold heights of the cordillera, and
are always in herds of from six to fifteen females, and one
male, who is the leader and protector of the rest. The
vicuna is distinguished by the superior fineness of its short
curly wool. After the conquest the Spaniards introduced
their own breed of sheep into the country; and it is now
very common. There are flocks of 80,000 or 100,000
sheep on the inter-cordillera plains of Bonbon and neigh¬
bourhood. Horses, asses, and black cattle were also in¬
troduced by the Spaniards; and in the valleys and on the
coast they are well developed, but on the heights they are
small and stunted in their growth.
The manufactures of Peru are inconsiderable, the great
body of the people being employed in agriculture and the
mines. Labour of every kind is in the hands of the Indians;
and though they manifest considerable ingenuity in some
of the mechanical arts, from the want of sufficient instruc¬
tion or of proper masters, their productions will not bear
comparison with those of Europeans. They manufacture
a variety of cotton and coarse woollen fabrics, which are
consumed in the country. Straw hats of a variety of
colours, petates or mats, and sigarreros, also form part of
their manufactures. Goat skins are made into good cor¬
dovan ; and cow-hides are made into saddle-bags, and almo-
frezes, or travelling-cases for bed and bedding. Tanning,
dyeing, soap-making, distilling, and some other manufac¬
tures are carried on. Very fine gold and silver filigree
work is also executed. Peru, however, looks to Europe for
a great part of the necessaries as well as of the luxuries of
life.
The principal exports of Peru are the precious metals,
guano, nitrate of soda, wool, cotton, hides, and Peruvian
bark. Guano, which till recently had no place among its
exports, is now the most important of its productions. It
is found on some parts of the coast, but principally on
certain small islands, especially those opposite to Pisco.
On the islands of Chincha alone it was estimated that in
1854 there were 12,376,100 tons. In 1854 no less than
VOL. XVII.
344,400 tons of guano were exported, of which more Peru,
than one-half went to England, and the remainder to the
United States, France, Spain, Germany, &c. The imports
consist ot woollen, cotton, and linen stuff's; machinery,
cutlery, earthenware, &c. The trade of Peru with the
various countries was as follows in 1853:—
Countries. Imports. Exports.
Britain L.923,258 L.1,763,751
China  57,899
Chile  130,800 99,487
Spain  32,473 45,799
Ecuador  39,365
United States  117,205 979,676
France  376,756 288,321
Hamhurg  97,265 42,963
Antilles  ... 52,848
Other countries  42,555 103,216
Total L.1,817,576 L.3,376,061
It will be seen from this table that Great Britain is the
country that carries on the greatest trade with Peru. It
imports almost double, and exports nearly three times as
much, as any other country. The declared or computed
value of British imports from Peru, and of exports thereto
in 1856, was as follows :—
Imports.
Guano L.2,053,386
Alpaca and llama wool.. 386,798
Sheep wool  111,304
Nitre  220,762
Copper and copper ore.. 86,165
Tin and tin ore  58,399
Peruvian bark  59,099
Cotton, raw  24,542
Chinchilla skins  5,174
Untanned hides  1,495
Cochineal  3,968
Borax  2,877
Other articles  34,725
Exports.
Cotton goods L.450,376
Woollen  258,998
Hardwares and cutlery.. 56,110
Iron & steel, unwrought. 37,273
Linen goods  41,323
Silk manufactures  20,692
Apparel    25,499
Earthenware  20,042
Machinery  7,458
Coals  11,778
Wine  6,879
Glass  7,396
Other articles  128,340
Total L.3,048,694
Total L.128,340
The internal trade of Peru is not great, owing to the
nature of the country and the want of good roads. Except
on the table-lands, indeed, there are few roads ol any sort.
Mules are generally used for the conveyance of travellers
and goods; though in the more elevated parts llamas are
largely employed for the latter purpose. A raihoad ex¬
tends from the port of Arica to Tacna, and another from
Callao to Lima.
The government of Peru is by its constitution pro¬
nounced0 to be a popular representative government; and
in theory at least the sovereignty emanates from the people,
who are supposed to delegate its exercise to the legislative,
executive, and judicial powers of the republic, each of
which is independent of the others. The chief executtye
power is vested in the president, who is elected for six
years through the electoral colleges. He has four ministers
for the despatch of public business,-one for foreign affairs,
one for finance, one for justice and religion, and one for
war and marine. The legislative power is vested in a
Congress, composed of a Senate and Chamber of De¬
puties The Chamber of Deputies consists of represen-
tatives chosen by the electoral colleges of the several
provinces, in the proportion of 1 foru ever7A2n0f^00‘n labl-
tants, or for any fractional number above 0,000. But any
province having an entire population of less than i 0,000
is nevertheless entitled to elect a deputy. The Senate is
composed of two members for each of the departments.
The electoral colleges of the provinces are composed of
parochial electors, 1 for every 200 inhabitants in each parish.
Each department is politically governed by a prefect, under
immediate subordination to the president of the republic ;
each province by a sub-prefect, subordinate to the prefect;
and each district by a governor, subordinate to the sub-pre-
3 o
474
PER
Perugia, feet. In the capital of each department there is a junta
composed of two members from each province, elected in
the same way as the members of the Chamber of Deputies.
Justice is administered by the Supreme Court at Lima,
and the superior courts of Lima, Cuzco, Arequipa, 1 ruxillo,
Ayacucho, and Puno. In the provinces are courts of pri¬
mary instance ; and in the districts, justices’ courts. Besides
these, there are special commercial, mining, military, and
other courts. The judges are appointed by the president,
but are not removeable without sufficient cause. Capital
punishment for political offences has been abolished. I he
land forces of the government consist of about 10,000 men
of all arms ; and the naval forces, of a frigate, two corvettes,
and two galliots. The total national debt amounted, in
1853, to L.9,954,000 sterling. The budget for 1855 esti¬
mates the revenue at L.1,874,000 (of which L.1,243,750
is derived from the sales of guano), and the expenditure at
L.2,177,643. According to the constitution, the religion
of the republic is Roman Catholic and apostolic, and the
exercise of none other is permitted. Practically, however,
Protestant worship is allowed in private, and an English
clergyman regularly officiates at the British consulate.
Ecclesiastically, the country is divided into an archdiocese,
and the bishoprics of Cuzco, Arequipa, Truxillo, Guamanga,
and Chachapoyas. There are 1800 priests or clergymen,
720 friars, and 1200 nuns. The tithes produce annually
L.50,000, and the first-fruits L.120,000. There are 26
hospitals in Peru—21 for males, with 1226 beds ; and 5 foi
females, with 497 beds; average annual cost,about L.50,000.
Except in larger towns, education is at a very low ebb. In
the remote interior, men able to read and write are not al¬
ways to be found to fill public offices. In the capitals of the
departments there are usually high schools or colleges; and
there are good private schools in all the more populous
districts. The university of St Mark at Lima is the most
ancient of the American universities, having been established
in 1570, and was long famous as a seat of learning, but it
is now superseded in Lima by the college of S. Carlos.
The university of S. Fernando in Lima is a thriving medi¬
cal school. According to the last census, there were in
Peru 810 elementary schools, where 26,000 boys and 3600
girls were taught reading, writing, and the catechism; and
42 lycea and high schools, having 320 masters and 4500
scholars. The Latin classes contained 11/3 boys, the ma¬
thematical 720, the French 550, philosophy 328, Spanish
grammar 270, religion 235, English 90, law 50, theology^
250, medicine and surgery 50. The annual expense of
the government schools and colleges may be estimated at
about L.25,000, raised principally from excises, rents of
land belonging to them, bull-fights, and sums paid by the
pupils. _. _
Peru is divided into 11 departments and 2 littoral pro-
PE R
vinces, having the organization of departments. The de¬
partments are subdivided into 61 provinces, the provinces
into 625 districts, and the districts into parishes. The de¬
partments, with their population in 1852, are as follows :—
Capitals. Pop.
Perugia
Departments. Pop.
Amazonas  43,074
Ancach  219,145
Arequipa  119,336
Ayacucho  132,921
Cuzco  349,718
Huancavelica  79,117
Junin  222,949
Libertad   266,553
Lima   250,801
Moquegua  61,432
Puno   285,662
Callao, prov. litt  8,453
Piura  76,332
Chachapoyas  4,500
Huaras   5,200
Arequipa  36,800
Ayacucho  16,700
Cuzco  44,600
Huancavelica  5,200
Cerro de Pasco  12,800
Truxillo  6,300
Lima  100,000
Tacna  9,700
Puno  8,300
Callao  6,000
Piura  11,600
Total 2,115,493
The inhabitants of Peru consist of three distinct races—
Spaniards, Indians, and Negroes. The secondary classes
arising from these three are,—the Mulatto, from the Spaniard
and Negro; the Mestizo, from the Spaniard and Indian;
and the Chino, from the Indian and Negro. The minor
subdivisions are very numerous. The Indians, or native
Peruvians, are still the most numerous class throughout the
country, and constitute fully two-thirds of the entire popu¬
lation. They are naturally timid, reserved, and of a melan¬
choly temperament, arising doubtless in great measure from
the cruel oppressions to which they have been for ages
subjected. They yet cherish a deep and mournful impres¬
sion of the days of the Incas ; and in the more remote dis¬
tricts of the country, the death of the last of the race is
annually celebrated by a sort of rude tragedy, accompanied
by plaintive strains of music. They are sunk in gross
ignorance; but not a few of them have risen to eminence,
and have shown themselves to be possessed of talents and
abilities of no mean order. Many of the tribes are indus¬
trious cultivators of the soil; and others display great in¬
genuity in the manufacture of beautiful fabrics. They
have also shown themselves to be possessed of bravery by
their achievements during the war of independence; and
so late as March 1858, they fought like old Spartans under
Vivanco at Arequipa. Of the regiment Ayacucho, 600
strong, 540 fell at the barricades before they were over¬
powered by the army of Castilla. The mixed races are
more numerous than the pure Spaniards. According to Mr
Stevenson, the Mestizo is strong and swarthy, with very
little beard, laborious, and well disposed ; the Mulatto is less
robust, but acute, talkative, imaginative, and fond of dress
and parade; the Chinos have the character of being the
worst of the mixed races,—they are a quick, pugnacious,
and daring set of fellows. (D*K )
PERUGIA, a province of the Papal States, bounded on
the N. by the province of Pesaro-e-Urbino, E. by those
of Macerata and Spoleto, S. by those of Spoleto and Viteibo,
and W. by Tuscany. Its length from N. to S. is about
60 miles; extreme breadth, 45; area, 1547 square miles. It
lies entirely in the basin of the Tiber, and contains the lake
of Perugia, anciently called Trasimenus, near the frontiers
of Tuscany. This sheet of water, which is about 30 miles
in circumference, 8 broad at the widest part, and about 30
feet deep, contains several islands, and is inclosed on three
sides by mountains, which on the fourth, towards the west,
open out into the plain of Cortona. It is fed by springs
rising from its bottom, and having no natural outlet, it fre¬
quently overflowed the surrounding country, until in the
fifteenth century a tunnel and canal were constructed,
which carry off the water from the south-east corner to the
Tiber. The Apennines extend along the eastern boundary
of the province, and cover it with their ramifications; but
to the south of the capital there are some extensive plains.
The soil is rich and fertile, and the climate mild and
healthy. Corn, wine, oil, silk, and grass are raised; and
large herds of excellent horned cattle are fed on the pas¬
tures of the province, as well as sheep, pigs, and poultry.
Manufactures of cotton, woollen, and silk goods are carried
on, and these articles are the objects of a considerable
trade. Pop. (1853) 234,533.
Perugia (anc. Perusia'), the capital of the above pro¬
vince, stands on the sides and top of a hill, between 70()
and 800 feet high, overlooking the Tiber, 82 miles N. of
Rome. It is surrounded by high but not very strong walls
in the form of a polygon, about 6 miles in circumference,
and is defended by a castle, erected by Pope Paul III. in
1543. Though irregularly laid out, the streets are broad,
and are lined with many handsome buildings. Of the nu-
PER
Perugia, merous churches in the town, the principal is the cathedral,
—f a Gothic edifice of the fifteenth century, containing nume¬
rous fine paintings by Barrocci, Guido, and Perugino, as
well as four of Raphael’s, and having an extensive library
of biblical works and MSS. The church of S. Francisco,
a fine edifice, formerly contained Raphael’s picture of the
“ Descent from the Cross,” now in the Borghese gallery;
and that of S. Dominlco has a fine painted window, and the
beautifully carved tomb of Pope Benedict XI. The town-
house, a large Gothic edifice, is the residence of the muni¬
cipal authorities, and contains the archives of the town.
The old Exchange, now no longer used for that purpose, is
remarkable for the frescoes, by Perugino, with which its walls
are covered. Many of the convents in the town are large
and splendid, and contain fine paintings ; that of San Pietro
is the largest Benedictine convent in the Papal States.
The university of Perugia, founded in 1307, is one of the
oldest in Europe ; it is attended by upwards of 200 students,
and has a library of 30,000 volumes, a botanic garden, and
collections of minerals and of antiquities. There is here
an academy of the fine arts, with a collection of paintings
by natives of the town and neighbourhood, and several pri¬
vate picture-galleries. Perugia has a school of music and
a literary club ; and also two theatres, assembly-rooms, and
a bull-ring. A lunatic asylum is the chief benevolent
establishment. The manufactures of the place consist of
carpets, velvet, silk, woollen stuffs, soap, candles, brandy,
and other articles. An active trade is carried on in corn,
wine, oil, cattle, and wood. Perugia is the seat of a bishop
and of a Papal delegate ; a court of justice and a board of
police are also held here. Many interesting remains of
antiquity still exist in the modern town. It is doubtful
whether the walls, which consist of long rectangular blocks
regularly arranged, are of Etruscan or of Roman origin ; to
the latter must be ascribed the gates, two of which remain
in their ancient condition,-—the Arco d’Augusto, probably
built by Augustus, and the Porta Marzia. Undoubted
Etruscan remains are to be found in the sepulchres out¬
side the walls, from one of which was obtained the only
considerable fragment we have of the Etruscan language—
an inscription forty-six lines in length, now preserved in the
museum at Perugia. The ancient city was of much less
extent than the modern, occupying only the summit of the
hill. It seems to have been originally an Umbrian city;
but it passed into the hands of the Etruscans, and became
one of tlje-chief members of that confederacy. It is men-
tionecHrequently in early Roman history, though not before
310 b.c. It was then an independent city, frequently at war
with Rome. After 294, it is not again mentioned as inde¬
pendent ; but the precise time and circumstances of its
conquest by Rome are not known. During the second
Punic war it was one of the allies of Rome, and remained
faithful to that power, supplying corn and timber for the
fleet of Scipio. Perusia does not again occur in history
until the civil wars of the second triumvirate. In 41 b.c.
L. Antonius, attacked on all sides by Octavius, Agrippa,
and Salvidienus, established himself in Perusia, hoping to
hold out till he should be reinforced by Ventidius and
Asinius Pollio. Disappointed in these hopes, and blockaded
by Octavius, after an ineffectual attempt to break through
the enemy’s lines, he was forced to surrender. His life was
spared ; but the city was given up to plunder, and accident¬
ally destroyed by fire. Rebuilt by Augustus, the town
acquired the name of Augusta Perusia, and soon became a
flourishing municipal town. It is not again mentioned till
after the fall of the Western Empire ; but in the wars which
then took place it played a conspicuous part. After falling
into the hands of the Goths, it was recovered in 537 a.d.
by Bdisarms ; but on his departure it was taken by Totila.
After this period it was an independent municipality, some¬
times ruled by tyrants, sometimes divided by factions; till
PER 475
in 1512 it was united to the Papal States by Julius II Perueino
Pop. (1848) 19,400. ’ ||
PERUGINO, Pietro, an eminent Italian painter, whose Peruzzi-
family name was Vanned, was born at Citta della Pieve
in 1446. His study of art was prosecuted amid the em¬
barrassments of poverty. He acquired his first lessons
while drudging as a shop-boy in the employment of a painter
in Perugia. Then repairing to Florence, he commenced a
regular course of study, with no means of support but the
small pittance which his inexperienced pencil could earn.
Yet in these unpropitious circumstances, Perugino soon
attained great eminence. His pictures became notable for
their graceful and elegant drawing, and their chaste and
harmonious colouring, and began to be exported to various
parts of Europe. At the same time, he was extensively
and closely employed in the decoration of religious edifices
in several different cities. He painted pictures for the
churches and convents of Florence, Siena, Yallombrosa,
Naples, Rome, and Perugia. So pressing, indeed, were
his engagements, that he was often hurried into repeat¬
ing the same figures, attitudes, and landscapes, over and
over again. No less celebrated was Perugino as a teacher
of art. The eminent painters Pinturicchio of Perugia,
Rocco Zoppo of Florence, Giovanni Spagnuolo, and An¬
drea Luigi of Assisi, studied under him, and closely imi¬
tated his manner. The great Raphael, too, was his pupil,
and for some time painted after his style. Perugino died
at his native place in 1524.
Some of the extant works of Perugino are preserved
in Florence. A celebrated fresco, representing the Cruci¬
fixion in the centre, with the Mater Dolorosa and San Ber¬
nardo on either side, is in the church of Santa Maria Mad-
dalena de’ Pazzi; and pictures of “ Our Lord in the Garden
of Olives,” “ The Assumption of the Virgin,” “ A Dead
Christ,” and “ Two Monks of the Order of Vallombrosa,”
are in the Academy of the Fine Arts. (See Vasari’s Lives
of Painters, &c., and Lanzi’s History of Painting.)
PERUVIAN BARK. See Bark.
PERUWELZ, a town of Belgium, province of Hain-
ault, on an affluent of the Schelde, 12 miles E. by S. of
Tournay, and 16 W. by N. of Mons. It is for the most
part well built, and has a public square, a church, and seve¬
ral schools. The inhabitants are chiefly employed in weav¬
ing, bleaching, dyeing, tanning, and brewing. Pop.
7612.
PERUZZI, Baldassare, an eminent Italian architect,
was the son of Sienese parents, but was born at Volaterra
in 1481. The early part of his life was devoted to
painting. He studied that branch of art at Siena, and
then repairing to Rome, fairly commenced his professional
career. The able and elegant composition of his pictures
soon introduced him to notice. Fie was employed to paint
some frescoes in the church of Sant Onofiio, in the church
of San Roccoa-Ripa, and in the fortress of Ostia. But by
this time Peruzzi was turning his attention to a species of
art better fitted to develope his talents. Having added to
his skill in painting a knowledge of architecture, he now
began to undertake both the designing and embellishment
of edifices. He erected and ornamented many facades and
other buildings. The most successful of these was the
Farnese Palace, which was so exquisitely constructed that,
according to Vasari, it “ ought rather to be described as a
thing born than as one merely builtand so successfully
adorned that Titian, on visiting it, thought at first that the
painted objects were real. In spite of this professional
success, the close of Peruzzi’s life was shadowed by mis¬
fortune. The Spaniards, while sacking Rome in 1527,
stript him of all his effects. Flis subsequent works, and
among others his design for the unrivalled Palazzo Mas-
simi, ^contributed very little to his pecuniary advantage.
Fie died in 1536, leaving his family in indigent circur
476
Pesaro
I!
Pesce.
P E S
stances, and was buried in the Pantheon, near Raphael;
One of Peruzzi’s paintings, “ The Adoration of the M g,
is in the National Gallery. (See Vasaris -trees of the
Painters, See., and Lanzi’s History of Painting.)
PESARO (anc. Pisaurum), a town in the Papal Mates,
province of Pesaro-e-Urbino, stands on a well-wooded
rocky eminence near the mouth of the Fogha, on the
Adriatic, 19 miles E.N.E. of Urbino. It is surrounded
by fortifications, and defended by a citadel. The streets
are clean and well aired; and hence Pesaro presents
a neater appearance than most Italian towns. ^ ias a
market-place, containing a fountain and a marble statue o
Pope Urban VIII. Being the seat of a bishop, it co£tains
a cathedral, not remarkable for its architecture ; but this, as
well as several other churches and some of the pnva
houses, contains fine paintings. There are ®evei'al c^'
vents and palaces. One of the latter, which formerly be¬
longed to the dukes of Urbino, is now occupied by the
papal legate. Among the public institutions of the place
are a college, courts of law, a public library of 15,000
volumes (with museum and botanic gardens in connection
with it), two hospitals, a foundling asylum, and a theatie.
In the vicinity are several fine villas, one of which was the
residence of Queen Caroline in 1818-19. The manufac¬
tures are few, consisting chiefly of silk and cotton stu s,
but the inhabitants are largely employed in trade, the pr
cipal articles of which are the agricultural produce of the
surrounding country, such as wine, oil, and fruit, especia y
figs, reckoned the best in Italy. Pesaro has a haibou ,
but it is of small size. The ancient Pisaurum was a town
of Umbria, where in 184 b.C. a Roman co ony was founded;
and after this it became a flourishing and important town,
although the climate seems to have been then (though it is
not now) unhealthy. It was occupied by Julius Caesar after
crossing the Rubicon in 49 B.C., and under the empii^ it
was a place of some trade, where ships were built. I he
remains of an ancient bridge and theatre, as well as many
inscriptions, still exist; and the town is supplied with water
by an aqueduct, supposed to be the work of the Romans.
Rossini, the celebrated musical composer, was a native ot
Pesaro. Pop. about 17,000. _ r , tj i c*
Pesaro-e-Ukbino, a province of the Papal States,
bounded on the N. and N.E. by the Adriatic, SAi- by the
province of Ancona, S. by that of Perugia, and W. by that
of Forli and by Tuscany ; area, 1407 square miles. It
entirely surrounds the republic of San Marino. The sur¬
face slopes gradually from the W., where it is mountainous,
being divided from Tuscany by the range of the Apen¬
nines, which sends off' several branches towards the sea,
in which direction also the rivers of the province flow.
The principal of these are the Fogha (anc. Pisaurus), the
Metauro (anc. Metaurus), with its affluent the Cantiano,
theCesano; and the Misa. The mountainous parts of
the province are generally barren; but the hills afford
exceflent pasturage, and their lower slopes are covered
with vines,Olives, and mulberry trees. The lower grounds
are fertile and well cultivated, producing corn, puke, hemp
flax, and various fruits. Cattle, sheep, and pigs arefedon
the pastures in large numbers ; and con sic era e
is paid to bees and silk-worms,—the silk offiFos;om^rn®’a
town in the province, being considered the fines m i P •
The chief mineral found is coal, which is obtained in the
vicinity of Pesaro. Pop. (1853) 257,751.
PESCE, Nicola or Cola, a famous Sicilian diver, was
born at Naples about the middle of the fourteenth cen ury.
His agility in swimming was the wonder of his contem¬
poraries. They believed that he could live in the water as
in his own proper element, and they surnamed him on t lat
account Pesce, “ The Fish.” In fact, no feat ascribed to
him was too huge for their gaping credulity to swallow.
It was this exaggerated fame that became the occasion of
P E S
the “Fish’s” death. Frederick II., King of the Two Sicilies, Peschiera
hearing the astounding reports of his aquatic dexterity, Pesh|[wur
resolved to subject it to a summary test. Accordingly , ,
a golden cup was thrown by the royal hand into the
dreaded whirlpool of Charybdis, and the diver was desired
to plunge after it, and win it as a prize. Twice he dived,
and appeared again on the surface of the water. After
disappearing the third time, he never came up. His body
is said to have been cast ashore thirty miles distant, ibis
fatal incident furnished Schiller with the groundwork of
his famous ballad Her Taucher. (See Brydone s Tour
through Sicily and Malta, London, 1773.)
PESCHIERA, a town of Austrian Italy, in the pro¬
vince of Mantua, stands at the foot of the Lago di Garda,
where the Mincio, here crossed by a bridge, issues from the
lake, 20 miles N. of Mantua. It is fortified, and defended
by a small but strong Venetian citadel. There are here
two churches and a custom-house. The inhabitants are
chiefly employed in fishing. In 1848 the town surrendered,
after an obstinate resistance, to the Sardinian army undei
Charles Albert. Pop. about 2500. #
PESCIA, a town of Tuscany, province of Florence, in
a beautiful country covered with groves of olives and mul¬
berries, and studded with villas, convents, castles, and
towers, 30 miles W.N.W. of Florence, on the Pescia,
which is here crossed by two fine stone bridges. It is the
seat of a bishop, and contains a fine modernized cathedral,
with a painting by Raphael. The other churches are in no
way remarkable. There are several palaces, schools, and
charitable institutions. The inhabitants are employed in
the manufacture of leather, paper, broadcloth, and silk;
and some trade is carried on in silk, wine, and oil. Pop.
(1852) 4900. .
PESCO-PAGANO, a town of Naples, province of Basi¬
licata, on the top of a lofty hill, 18 miles S.W. of Melfi,
and 13 E.N.E. of Salerno. It has four churches and a
convent, and manufactures of cotton and woollen goods
and copper-wares. Pop. 4000. _ . . , T
PESHAWUR, or Peshawer, a province ot British In¬
dia, in the Punjab, occupying the extreme N.W. comer of
the empire. It lies between N. Lat. 33. 42. and 34. 30.,
E. Long. 71. 35. and 72. 42., and is bounded on the N.W.
and S. by the Khyber, Mohmund, Swat, and Khuttuk hills,
and on the E. by the Indus. Its length is 65 miles, breadth
50, area about 2324 square miles. Besides the Indus, it is
watered by the Kabool river, which joins the Indus near
Attock, and by the Swat, the Bara, and other affluents of
the Kabool. The water of these rivers is used for irriga¬
tion, being conducted to the fields by numerous canals and
small channels, from which it is raised by levers or Persian
wheels. The country is very fertile, and this abundant
supply of water renders it verdant at all seasons of the >car.
Two crops are raised annually; the principal produce be¬
ing wheat, barley, maize, millet, and especially rice, which
it produces in greater excellence than any other countiy in
the world, and which is known by the name of Bara rice,
from the river on whose banks it is grown. Vegetables,
such as carrots, turnips, cabbages, onions, and others, are
likewise raised; and an important part of the produce con¬
sists of what is called paulaiz, comprising melons and
cucumbers of various kinds, pumpkins, and gourds, ihe
castor-oil plant, the sugar-cane, ginger, tobacco, and cotton
are among the other plants cultivated. Agriculture is well
advanced ; the plough has superseded the spade ; and oxen
are employed in treading out the corn, and in other labours.
Plums, figs, peaches, pomegranates, and quinces are among
the principal fruits that the country produces. The climate
during the summer is extremely hot, though the occasional
breezes from the mountains mitigate its sultriness. I he
province of Peshawur is traversed by the great route from
Khorasan and Kabool to India, which crosses the moun-
P E S
P E S 477
Peshawur tains by the Kbyber pass; and there is also a grand trunk
II road which crosses the country, connecting the town ot
Pestalozzi. peshawur with Lahore, along which the army of the Pun-
jab is stationed. Forming part of the Punjab, Peshawur
came into the possession of the British along with that
country. Pop. 450,099.
Peshawur, the capital of the above province, on the
Bara, about 18 miles E. of the eastern extremity of the
Khyber pass, and 36 by N- of Attock, at an altitude of
1068 feet above the sea ; N. Lat. 34., E. Long. 71. 38. It
is defended by walls and a fort, which commands the whole
of the town, the former having at intervals strong bastions.
The fortress, which was erected by the Sikhs, occupies a
square 220 yards each way, and has round towers at each
corner. The walls are all built of mud ; and the^ place, is
surrounded by & moat and by a fausse-braie. The piin-
cipal street of Peshawur, which stretches eastward from the
Kabool gate, is broad, and lined on each side with houses
of one storey. This is the only good street in the town, as
the side lanes which diverge from it are very narrow, irre¬
gular, and dirty, and the houses mean. Peshawur con¬
tains three open places, that in the centre, which is of a
circular form, being the finest part of the town. The houses
in it are regularly built, and have in front ol them a ciicle
of acacias. On each side of this area is an arched gateway
leading to a square, one of which is used as a market for
grain, and the other for silk cloth, leather, and other ar¬
ticles. The town at one time contained numerous mosques,
many of them being magnificent buildings ; but they have
been profaned by the Sikhs, and are now fast falling into
decay. The manufactures are very few, consisting prin¬
cipally of loongees, or light-blue scarfs of cotton. In the
adjacent country large quantities of salt are obtained ; there
are also two productive lead mines, and nitre and sulphur
are likewise found. A considerable trade is carried on be¬
tween Afghanistan and India by Peshawur; and this has
been much increased since the British took possession of it,
by the removal of all the restrictions that had been imposed
by the Sikhs. Peshawur was founded by the Mogul em¬
peror Akbar, from whom it obtained its name, which sig¬
nifies “ the advanced post,” as it is the frontier city of India.
It was formerly much more populous than at present; and
in the beginning of this century it contained 100,000 in¬
habitants. Runjeet Singh took it after his victory over the
Afghans at Noushera, and destroyed many of its finest
buildings. Pop. 53,295, including 7706 Hindus.
PESTALOZZI, Johann Heinrich, a distinguished
educational reformer, was born at Zurich in Switzerland
on 12th January 1746. He spent the greater part of a
long life in advocating his theory of education, and in en¬
deavouring to exemplify it in practice. 1 he political op¬
pression, moral depravity, and intellectual darkness which
characterized the condition of the lower orders of society
in his native land, had, at a very early period of his life,
profoundly affected his benevolent and enthusiastic mind,
and he had resolved to devote himself entirely to the ame¬
lioration of that condition. He first entertained the idea
that he should best accomplish his object by becoming a
political reformer; and, abandoning the clerical profession,
for which he had been educated, he took to the study ot
the law. But the intensity of his application to his legal
studies brought on a dangerous illness, and on the advice of
his physicians he abandoned this profession also, burning
all his manuscripts, and renouncing the study of books.
It now occurred to him that he might effect his purpose by
making agriculture the pivot of his educational operations.
He accordingly went to live with a farmer of some repute,
to learn practical agriculture, and to seek advice as to the
best mode of prosecuting his plans. A successful experi¬
ment which this farmer made in cultivating madder on
poor land induced Pestalozzi, in conjunction with a mer¬
cantile firm of Zurich, to purchase a tract of heath-land (the Pestalozzi.
Neuhof) in Argovia, and make a similar experiment. But
in this, the first important undertaking in which he engaged,
Pestalozzi soon gave evidence of a singular deficiency in
practical wisdom and tact. For example, he wasted a great
deal of capital in erecting a dwelling-house and farm-build¬
ings on his new estate. The experiment did not succeed,
and the Zurich firm withdrew their capital with loss. Not¬
withstanding this failure, and the distress into which it
threw him, he determined to go on with the execution of
his plans. He wanted to combine with his agricultural
operations a model industrial school for poor children.
The idea of such a school is now familiar to us ; it was then
new. His plan met with the approval of many influential
persons, and the school was commenced in 1775. For five
years he devoted his whole time and energy to teaching and
and training fifty destitute boys, literally gathered from the
highways. But in the meantime, his own and his wife’s
fortune were going to the winds ; he who was teaching
others the conditions of success in life was neglecting some
of the most obvious of those conditions in the manage¬
ment of his own affairs. By the end of the period men¬
tioned he had brought himself down to the pecuniary level
from which he was endeavouring to raise his pupils.
Nevertheless, we reap the fruits of Pestalozzi’s labours
in the numerous industrial and reformatory schools which
have been established in our own country. It was Pesta¬
lozzi’s poor-school that suggested to De Fellenberg the one
which he established on his estate of Hofwyl; and which,
under the skilful management of Wehrli, gained a success
which definitively settled the question of the practicability of
the idea. Pestalozzi himself, visiting Hofwyl some thirty
years after the breaking up of his own school, acknowledged
that in Wehrli’s school he saw his idea realized. The suc¬
cess of Wehrli’s school led to the establishment of many
others in Switzerland and other countries. “In the orphan
schools which emanated from Pestalozzi and De bellen-
berg we found,” say Sir James Kay Shuttle worth and Mr
Tufnell, in their report on the Battersea normal school,
“ the type which assisted us in our subsequent labours. In
walking with M. De Fellenberg through Hofwyl, we lis¬
tened to the precepts which we think most applicable to the
pauper class. In the normal school of the canton of Thur-
govia (at that time conducted by Wehrli), and in the
orphan schools of St Gall and Appenzell, we found the
development of those principles so far successful as to as¬
sure us of their practical utility.” Pestalozzi s countrymen
could not have raised any memorial to him more appro¬
priate than the orphan school which they founded at s-
berg in Argovia, after the commemoration of the hundredth
anniversary of his birthday in 1846. If such establish¬
ments are not always successful in a pecuniary point of
view, even with the accumulated experience which we now
possess, it should make us judge the more lemenUy the
failure of the man who grappled with the difficulties ot the
task for the first time. w
For eighteen years after the breaking up of the Neuhot
poor-school, Pestalozzi did not engage in any educational
undertaking. Some of his most important works however,
were written during this period; among others, 2/r? Aven-
ina Hour of a Hermit, a series of educational aphorism?
very similar to the Didactica Magna of Comemus; and
Leonard and Gertrude, a dramatic novel pourtraying the
actual condition of the Swiss peasantry and his own ideal
of a ffood home and school education for the people. I he
latter work established his reputation, and exercised an
important influence on the progress of popular education
throughout Switzerland and Germany. A translation of
this work is a desideratum in our language. In 1798 he
was called upon bv the Swiss Directory to go to Stanz in
Unterwalden, and take charge of a number of children
478
PESTALOZZI.
Pestalozzi. left destitute after the terrible punishment inflicted °n that
‘ resisting canton by the French army of occupation. With¬
out a moment’s hesitation, he left his family, and for nine
months he acted as the sole teacher and superintendent
of eighty orphan boys of the lowest grade of society, m an
old desolate cloister, with no books, maps, or other appli¬
ances of instruction, and with no assistance of any kind,
save such as could be rendered him by an old house¬
keeper. With these children he made many new experi¬
ments in education. Among other plans which he tried
were those of monitors and simultaneous reading an
speaking. The monitorial plan, however, is as old as
Comenius, and the simultaneous plan had previously been
introduced into the Austrian schools. The circumstances
were highly favourable to the application of his genera
theory, which required all instruction to be based on rea
objects and familiar daily occurrences; and many of Ins
lessons, secular and moral, appear to have been fine spe¬
cimens of intuitive teaching. That, in concentrating ins
mind upon the development of his own plans, he should
sometimes overlook the peculiarity of the circumstances,
and constantly neglect matters that appeared to him ot
minor importance, was to be expected. His extraordinary
efforts in this difficult and harassing position had well
nigh brought him to the grave, when the progress of
events connected with the war compelled him to give up
the school. He went up into the Bernese Oberland to
recruit his exhausted energies. His next important un ei-
taking was the foundation of an educational institution or
the practical application of his method. He had for some
time past sought assistance from the Helvetian govern¬
ment towards the attainment of this object, which he re¬
garded as one of national importance. At length the go-
vernment gave him the use of the castle of Burgdor ?
in those premises he opened his institution in 1800. 1 ie
institution was removed successively to Munchenbuchsee,
near Hofwyl, and to Yverdun, in the canton of Vaud.
In the very first years of its existence it attracted much
notice, owing in great measure to an account of Ins plans,
which Pestalozzi published under the title, How Gertrude
Teaches her Children. Subsequently it became, in the
language of one of Pestalozzi’s eulogists, a “ European train¬
ing institution for teachers and educators.” The internal
management of the institution, however, appears to have
been anything but satisfactory. His own want of govern¬
ing and practical power necessarily compelled him to
place a leading share of the management in the hands ot
one or other of his assistants, among whom, accordingly, a
contention arose which proved fatal to the welfare of the in‘
stitution and the happiness of its venerable founder, who ha
the mortification of seeing his enterprise going to wreck,
and himself standing powerless at the helm. I he institu¬
tion was finally broken up in 1825. A poor-school, wine t
he had founded at Clindy, near Yverdun, in 181b, had
failed from similar mismanagement. He made an attempt
to transplant this school to his estate of Neuhof, m the
hope that it might succeed better away from ‘ the institu¬
tion.” But the building which he erected for the purpose
stood incomplete and unoccupied at the time of ns eat i.
This event happened on 17th February 1827. During t ie
last two years of his life he wrote his autobiograp iy in
two works—The Song of the Tying Swan, and 1 ie or-
tunes of My Life. In these works he reviews his various
educational undertakings, and endeavours to trace t ie
causes of their failure. As the works enter very iiilly into
the details of the personal quarrel at Yverdun, they are
variously represented by his biographers according as
these side with one or other of the parties; and, for the
same reason, they are now of very little interest to the
world. Shortly before his death he said : “ I forgive my
enemies ; may they find peace, now that I go to eternal
rest. I should like to have lived another month, to have Pestalozzi.
completed my last labours; but I again thank God, who in's—'
his providence calls me away from this earthly scene.
And you, my children, remain in quiet attachment to one
another, and seek for happiness in the domestic circle.”
Pestalozzi’s general theory of education may be stated in few
words. He held that all our knowledge is derived, in the first in¬
stance, from the perceptions of the senses, and that therefore all
instruction should be based upon the observation of real objects and
occurrences; or, in other words, should proceed, by a process of
induction, from the concrete to the abstract, from the known to
the unknown. He further held that the object of primary educa¬
tion was to give a general and harmonious cultivation to the facul¬
ties of the mind, not to communicate technical knowledge. He
accordingly required that all instruction should be presented to
the pupil in a form corresponding to the process of intellectual de¬
velopment, by which the mind rises from the perceptions of the
senses to clear ideas) and that the adaptation of different subjects
for the purposes of elementary instruction should be judged of by
the amount of educative power which they respectively possess.
(See National Education.)
Pestalozzi belongs to the modern or “realistic” school of edu¬
cators, the general tendency of which is two-fold (1.) As regards
the matter of instruction, to supersede the languages and literature
of Greece and Rome by the mother-tongue and practical knowledge ;
and (2.) As regards the manner of instruction, to supersede the ana¬
lytic and experimental method by a synthetic and demonstrative one.
The most eminent men of this school before Pestalozzi were Rous¬
seau, Locke, and Comenius. Its origin is distinctly traceable to
the influence of Bacon's method of philosophy.
Like Lord Bacon, Pestalozzi did very little towards the practical
application of his own principles. Some of his attempts to apply them
to individual branches of instruction were singularly at variance
with them. This was the case with his treatment of the instruction
in language, as explained in his work How Gertrude Teaches her Chil¬
dren. He divides the instruction into—1. Lessons on Sounds; 2.
Lessons on Names; 3. Lessons on Language. 1. “ The spelling-book
(he says) must contain the entire range of sounds of which the lan ¬
guage consists, and portions of it should be repeated daily in every
family, not only by the child that is going through the exercises to
learn how to spell, hut also by mothers, within hearing of the child
in the cradle, in order that these sounds may, by frequent repetition,
be so deeply impressed upon the memory of the child, even while it
is yet unable to pronounce a single one of them, that they shall never
he forgotten. No one imagines to what a degree the attention of in¬
fants is aroused by the repetition of such simple rounds as ba,ba, ha;
da, da, da; ma, ma, ma ; la, la, la, &c.; or what a charm such repe¬
tition has for them.” 2. Lessons in names (he says) consist in giv¬
ing the children lists of the names of the most important objects
in°all three kingdoms of nature, in history, in geography, and in
the pursuits and relations of mankind. 3. In the “ lessons in
language” he classifies what is to be learned under the following
heads -.—Geography, history, physics, natural history, and physio¬
logy. Each of these five heads he divides again into forty subdivi¬
sions. He now proceeds to give lists of words in all these subjects
in alphabetical order, which lists are to be impressed upon the child¬
ren’s memories “ till it is impossible any should be forgotten,
terwards, this alphabetical nomenclature is to be transformed into
a “ scientific” one. He gives the following examples: “ One of
the subdivisions of Europe is Germany: the child is first of all
made well acquainted with the division of Germany into ten circles ;
then the names of the towns of Germany are placed before him, at
first in mere alphabetical order, for him to read, but each of these
towns is previously marked with the number of the circle in which
it lies. As soon as the child can read the names of the towns flu¬
ently, he is taught the connection of the numbers with the
subdivisions of the main heads ; and in a few hours he is able to de¬
termine the place of the entire number of German towns in these
subdivisions,” And this is what Pestalozzi calls “ changing the
alphabetical into a scientific nomenclature,” (The quotations are
taken from Mr Tilleard’s translation of Raumer’s Life oj Pestalozzi.)
Thus, again, with his so-called exercises in observation; or object-
lessons. The type of such lessons was pretty nearly this : Suppose
that the lesson Was on a piece of sponge. The teacher, holding up
the specimen before the hoys, wuuld sing out in a high monotone
such sentences as the following, requiring the class to repeat each
sentence in unison three times :—“ That is sponge.” “ Sponge is an
animal product.” “ Sponge is amorphous.” “ Sponge is porous. ’
<< Sponge is absorbent,” &c. Nothing approaching to an elucidation
of the scientific principles involved in common objects and pro¬
cesses appears to have been attempted in these lesions. Indeed
Pestalozzi says, with the utmost candour, when treating of the
instruction in language, “ I never pretended to teach any art or
PESTALOZZI.
479
Pestalozzi. science; in fact, there is not one with which I myself am ac-
j quainted. My only object is to facilitate generally the acquisition
' ^ of the elements of all the arts and sciences, and to give to the ne¬
glected and abandoned classes of my countrymen open access to the
stores of human civilization.”
Pestalozzi was perhaps most successful in the application of his
principles to the instruction in arithmetic; but even his method of
teaching this subject counteracted them to a large extent. The aim
of the Pestalozzian arithmetic is to lead children to observe for
themselves the properties and relations of numbers, as shown upon
the various tables made use of. If the spirit of the method is real¬
ized by the master, nothing can be more important than the influ¬
ence which it has upon his instruction in this subject. It teaches
him to base all his explanations upon first principles,instead of con¬
demning his pupils to work from prescribed rules, of which they
do not understand the reasons. He thus gives them the power of
deducing arithmetical results for themselves, and scope for the ex¬
ercise of their judgment as well as of their memory. Treated in
this common-sense manner, arithmetic is invaluable as a mental
discipline ; and, from being a dry task, it is rendered an interest¬
ing exercise to the children; for the child is always gratified by
any instruction that appeals to its reasoning powers. But Pesta¬
lozzi caused a manual to be prepared in which the exercises to be
done upon the tables were printed at full length, and the boys were
made to go through the whole series, under the care of an assistant
master, until the repetition became one monotonous sing-song, not
requiring the slightest thought. One of his pupils gives the fol¬
lowing account of the way in which he himself taught this sub¬
ject :—“ For the ciphering, we had between every two scholars a
small table pasted on mill-board, on which, in quadrangular spaces,
were marked dots, which we had to count, to add together, to sub¬
tract, to multiply, and divide by one another. It was out of these
exercises that Kriisi and Buss constructed, first the Unity Table,
and afterwards the Fraction Tables. But as Pestalozzi only al¬
lowed the scholars to go over and to repeat the exercises in their
turns, and never questioned them nor set them tasks, these exercises,
which were otherwise very good, remained without any great uti¬
lity. He had not sufficient patience to allow things to be gone
over again, or to put questions; and in his enormous zeal for the
instruction of the whole school, he seemed not to concern himself
in the slightest degree for the individual scholar.”
The truth of the Pestalozzian maxim, that the mind grasps the
concrete more readily than the abstract, has received a curious
confirmation in the extensive imitation which Pestalozzx’s methods,
though opposed to his principles, have met with at the hands of his
admirers. It is but too true that teachers, in common with other
mortals, are ever more ready to adapt plans than to adopt prin¬
ciples. The Pestalozzian arithmetic was introduced at a very early
period, into the Dublin model schools by the Irish Commissioners,
who published an edition of the Manual of Exercises for the use
of their teachers. A somewhat modified form of their Manual was
published in 1844, under the sanction of the Committee of Council
on Education, for the use of teachers in Great Britain. That work,
however, was superseded by Tate’s First Principles of Arithmetic ; a
work which gave a more correct and comprehensive application of
Pestalozzian principles to the subject of arithmetic; and which has
done much towards completing a radical reform in the teaching of
this subject in our elementary schools. The Pestalozzian object-
lessons have been widely imitated in this country. These lessons,
however, are gradually giving place to lessons on the science of com¬
mon things more in accordance with Pestalozzi’s own principles.
Pestalozzi’s method of instruction in language does not appear
to have been adopted, as a whole, by any of his followers. But the
greater part of it is embodied in Scherr’s method of teaching read¬
ing, which is extensively used by Swiss teachers.
While Pestalozzi’s personal influence on the methods of teaching
particular subjects has thus been small, he has, through his profound
principles, exerted a greater influence on elementary education
than any other man in recent times. That the visible improvement
in teaching which has been made of late years in England is in a
great measure due to his influence, there can be little doubt. At
the Battersea normal school, from which much of that improvement
emanated, Sir James Kay Shuttleworth propounded the general
principles of a synthetic and demonstrative method, confessedly
based upon the Pestalozzian idea; and those principles were ably
applied to various branches of elementary instruction by his coad¬
jutors, whose text-books are now in the hands of many teachers.
The Home and Colonial School Society, also, by whom so much has
been done for the improvement of infant school education, have
professedly been guided by the principles of Pestalozzi.
The influence of the personal character of this great and good
man has been very remarkable. His spirit has been infused into
whole generations of teachers in his native land, and, through indi¬
vidual disciples, has been communicated far and wide over the
whole civilized world. His enthusiastic love for children; his
zealous devotion to the interests of his countrymen and of huma- v.
nity; his unwavering faith in the efficacy of education (under
God’s blessing) for the regeneration of the lower classes of society;
his unflinching courage in urging upon rulers and all set in autho¬
rity the sacred duty of providing for the poor a more Christian
institution than either the workhouse or the gaol ; above all,
the intense concentration of energy and purpose with which he
pursued his object through a long and often unhappy life,—these
features in his character demand our highest admiration, and
place Pestalozzi in the foremost rank of distinguished school¬
masters. (j. T—D.)
PESTH, jy Pest, the most populous town of Hungary,
capital of an administrative territory of the same name,
stands on level ground on the E. bank of the Danube,
immediately opposite Buda, with which it is connected by a
fine suspension-bridge, 135 miles E.S.E. of Vienna. Besides
the original or old town in the centre, there are four suburbs,
known by the names of Leopold, Theresa, Joseph, and
Francis Town respectively. The most of the town being
of modern erection, is regularly and handsomely built: the
streets are broad, straight, and well paved; and many of
the shops, in splendour and decorations, are little inferior
to those of Vienna. The principal and most frequented
streets in the town are the Herren, Waitzner, Dorotheen,
and Grosse-Bruck Gasse. The streets of Pesth present
a strange scene, on account of the mixture of grandeur
and barbarism that is to be seen in them, and the strange
contrasts between the magnificent carriages, with their
liveried attendants, and the troops of wild horses or herds
of oxen, with their wild-looking drivers clad in sheepskins.
Along the bank of the Danube runs a broad quay, which
forms one of the principal ornaments of the town, as it is
paved and terraced, though till recently it was little better
than a muddy tract of ground. It is lined for nearly a
mile and a half with lofty and handsome buildings, brilliantly
whitewashed, among which is an elegant theatre. There
are several squares in the town, one of which, the new
market-place, is remarkable for its size, and for the ele¬
gance and regularity of the buildings that surround it. The
public buildings of Pesth are not very numerous nor fine.
One of the most conspicuous is an enormous edifice called
the Neugebaude, erected in 1786 by the Emperor Joseph II.
Its original design is not known, though it is said by the
Hungarians to have been intended for the confinement of
some of their chief nobles; but it is now used for barracks
and artillery magazines. It is four storeys high, and incloses
a central court of great extent, which has entrances at the
four corners. The university building, and the ciurc in
connection with it, are worthy of notice; and the parish
church is a fine edifice in the Gothic style. I he churches
in the town, however, are not numerous in proportion to
the population, nor are they remarkable for architectural
beauty. They belong to a great number of different sects ;
for the Roman Catholic, the United Greek the Se¬
paratist Greek, the Lutheran, and the Reformed Church
have each places of worship; and there are also several
synagogues. The services in these churches are performed
in the Latin, Greek, German, Hungarian, and Slavonic
languages. The town-hall of Pesth, erected in 1844, has
a peculiar tower; and there is a county-hall, recently re¬
built and enlarged, in which the nobles of the county used
to meet for discussion and the election of magistrates.
The National Museum, devoted almost exclusively to Hun¬
garian articles, is a magnificent building, and contains a
faro-e collection of Roman and mediaeval remains, arms,
and other relics of distinguished persons, objects of natural
history, a gallery of paintings, and a library of 20,000 vols.
and 2000 MSS. Besides the university (which is described
under the article Hungary), Pesth contains several other
educational institutions. A Hungarian Academy, on the
plan of the French Institute, a Lutheran and a Catholic
gymnasium, an English school for young ladies, a normal
Pesth.
480
Pesth.
P E S
school, an institution for the blind, are the most important
of these ; and there is also a botanic garden, an observatory,
as well as several hospitals and benevolent establishments.
The Ludoviceum, a fine building at the S.E. end of the
town, was erected in 1837 as a military school; but it has
never been used for that purpose, and is now employed as
a military hospital. Pesth contains several theatres; in
one of which, the National, an elegant edifice, the per¬
formances are entirely in the Hungarian language. Be¬
sides these, the places of amusement in the town consist of
coffee-houses and public walks, the principal of the latter
being the Stadtwaldchen, which is situated to the north of
the town. Not far from Pesth is the field of Rakos, which
is famous in Hungarian history as the place where the na¬
tional assembly of the Magyars was held in the open air,
from the year 1268 to 1525. Horse-races are now held
annually on this plain. Pesth is the seat of the principal
courts of law in Hungary, though not the capital of that
country. These formerly consisted of a Royal Court, having
jurisdiction over the district courts, and frcm which an ap¬
peal lay to the Septemviral Court, the highest tribunal
in the kingdom. Since 1852, however, Hungary has been
made subject to the Austrian law, and the supreme courts
now have their seat in Vienna, while Pesth has only an
oberlandes-gericht, a landes-gericht, and a tribunal of com¬
merce. The manufactures of Pesth are extensive, consist¬
ing of silk, cloth, leather, straw hats, gold ar*l silver articles,
and especially meerschaum pipe-bowls, which are brought
in a rough form from Constantinople, and are here pre¬
pared for the German markets. The trade is very consi¬
derable, and consists principally of corn, wine, timber,
cattle, and wool. Besides weekly markets, there are four
annual fairs held here, which are visited by upwards of
30,000 strangers, and at which transactions to the extent
of more than L.3,000,000 take place. Pesth carries on
a considerable trade on the Danube by steam-boats. The
modern town is believed to occupy the site of the ancient
Contra Acincum, which is also called Pession by Ptolemy.
Although it was built by Arpad, and walled in the thirteenth
century, yet till within the last hundred years it was a place
of very little importance, having met with a long series of
calamities, in having been taken by the Turks no fewer than
five times. It has also frequently suffered from inundations
of the Danube, caused by the obstruction of the ice below
the town. The most destructive of these floods took place in
March 1838, when a great part of Pesth was laid under
water, and 2281 houses in the town, besides 207 in Buda,
and 1500 in the vicinity, were totally destroyed. That
calamity has, however, given occasion for the rebuilding of
the town in a much superior style to that which formerly
existed. In April 1849, Pesth being in the hands of the
Hungarians, while Buda was occupied with a garrison by
the Austrian general Hentzi, a severe contest began be¬
tween the two parties. On the 4th of May, Goigei, with
an army of 40,000 Hungarians, occupied the heights above
Buda, and began to bombard that town; while the Aus¬
trians, in their turn, directed their artillery against the
lower city of Pesth. The latter bombardment destroyed
many of the public buildings, and did so much damage
that most of the inhabitants took refuge in the Stadtwald¬
chen. On the night of the 16th May the Hungarians
made an unsuccessful attack on Buda; but on the 20th the
place was taken by assault, after an obstinate and bloody
struggle. Pesth is connected by railways, on the^ one
hand with Vienna, and on the other with Debreczin, Gross-
wardein, and Temesvar, in the E. and S. of Hungary.
Pop. (1851), exclusive of the military, 106,379.
The administrative territory of Pesth, which is bounded
on the N. by those of Pressburg and Kaschau, E. by that
of Grosswardein, S. by the Voivodina of Servia, and W.
by the territory of Oedenburg, comprises, besides the dis-
P E T
trict of Buda and Pesth, nine counties, and has an area of Petalism
14,094 English square miles. II
PETALISM. See Ostracism. feter’ a'
PETAU, Denis (better known under the Latinized form
of his name, Dionysius Petavius), a French Jesuit of great
erudition, was born at Orleans in the year 1583. To the
study of the belles-lettres he joined that of the mathema¬
tics ; and afterwards applied himself to a course of philo¬
sophy, which he commenced in the college of Orleans, and
finished at Paris. He subsequently maintained theses in
Greek, which was as familiar to him as Latin ; and the
Latin, it is said, he understood better than he did his ver¬
nacular language. When he was pretty well advanced in
his studies, he had free access to the king’s library, which
he often visited on account of the Latin and Greek manu¬
scripts. Amongst other advantages which attended his li¬
terary pursuits, may be reckoned the friendship of Isaac
Casaubon, whom Henri IV. called to Paris in 1600. It
was at Casaubon’s instigation that Petavius, though then
very young, undertook an edition of the works of Syne-
sius, in which he corrected the Greek from the manu¬
scripts, translated what yet remained to be translated
into Latin, and wrote notes upon the whole. He was
only nineteen years of age when he was made professor
of philosophy in the university of Bourges ; and he spent
the following years in studying the ancient philosophers
and mathematicians. In 1604, when Morel, professor
of Greek at Paris, published the works of St Chrysos¬
tom, some part of Petavius’ labours on Synesius were
added to them ; and from the title we learn that he then
took the name of Patus, which he afterwards changed
into Petavius. His own edition of the works of Synesius
did not appear till the year 1612. He entered into the
Society of the Jesuits in 1605, became a zealous advocate
of the Church of Rome, and rejoiced in criticising and as¬
sailing its adversaries. He was bitter against Joseph Sca-
liger ; nor did he even spare his friend Casaubon when¬
ever the latter came in his way. Muratori regarded Petau
as “ the restorer of dogmatic theology.” He excelled like¬
wise in chronology. His great work on that subject, en¬
titled Pationarium Temporum, is an abridgment of uni¬
versal history from the earliest times till the year 1632,
arranged in chronological order, with references to proper
authorities ; and it was improved by Perizonius and others,
who made several additions to it after his death. Petau
died at Paris in 1652, aged sixty-nine.
PETCHORA, a river of European Russia, rises in the
Ural Mountains, on the borders of the governments of
Perm and Vologda, flows at first westwards, and then through
extensive flat moors in a curve towards the N., traversing
the governments of Vologda and Archangel. After a
course of 1300 miles, having acquired a great breadth, it
falls into the gulf of Pustoserssk by several mouths. For
nearly nine months in the year this gulf is blocked up with
ice. Among the numerous affluents of the river, the larg¬
est are the Ussa from the right, and the Ishma from the left.
PETER (originally or called also,
by a rendering of the Greek Uerpos into the corresponding
word in the Aramaic dialect spoken in Palestine in the
days of our Lord, Cephas, John i. 42), one of the
twelve apostles, and author of two Epistles in the inspired
canon. He was a native of Bethsaida in Galilee, and was
the son of a certain Jonas, or John; whence he is named on
one occasion in the gospel history Simon Barjona, that is,
son of Jona (Matt. xvi. 17). At the time of his introduc¬
tion to Christ, he was married, and was resident at Caper¬
naum with his family. Along with his brother Andrew,
he followed the occupation of a fisherman on the Sea of
Galilee. It is probable that before they became known
to Christ they were both disciples of John the Baptist.
That Andrew was so, we are expressly informed by the
PETER,
481
St. Peter, evangelist John ; and as his brother seems to have been
much of the same mind with him on religious matters, it
is extremely likely that he was so likewise. Their becom¬
ing known to Christ was owing to John’s pointing him out
on the day after his baptism to Andrew and another dis¬
ciple (probably the evangelist John), as “the Lamb of
God,” on which they immediately followed Christ, and
spent some time in receiving his instructions. Shortly
after this, Andrew finding Simon, carried him to Christ,
who, on receiving him as his disciple, bestowed upon him
that surname by which he has since that time been most
commonly designated: “When Jesus beheld him‘he said,
thou art Simon the son of Jona ; thou shalt be called Ce¬
phas, which is by interpretation a stone (Trerpos).” After
this interview the two brothers seem to have returned
to their usual occupation for a season, as we have an
account in Matthew (iv. 18-20) of their being sum¬
moned from that occupation by Christ on a subsequent
occasion, posterior to his temptation in the wilderness, and
to the commencement of his public ministry as a religious
teacher. From this time forward they were his devoted
and admiring followers. In the course of the evangelical
history several anecdotes of Peter are incidentally recorded,
for the purpose, doubtless, principally of illustrating the
character and teaching of our Lord, but which tend also to
throw light upon the history and character of his attached
disciple. Such are the accounts furnished by the evange¬
lists of his walking upon the agitated waters of the Sea of
Galilee to meet his master (Matthew xiv. 22, ff.; Mark vi.
45, ff.) ; of his bold and intelligent avowals of the undoubted
Messiahship of Jesus, notwithstanding the difficulties which
he, along with the rest of the disciples, felt in reconciling
what they saw in him with what they had fondly expected
the Christ to be (Matthew, xvi. 13-20) ; of his rash but
affectionate rebuke of his Lord for speaking of suffering and
death as in prospect for him, and as forming a necessary
part of his mediatorial work (Matthew xvi. 21-23); of his
conduct in first rejecting, with an earnestness bordering on
horror, the offer of Christ to wash his feet, and then, when
the symbolical nature of that act had been explained to him,
his over-ardent zeal that not his feet only, but also his
hands and his head, might be washed (John xiii. 4, ff.); of
his bold and somewhat vaunting avowal of attachment to
his Master, and his determination never to forsake him, fol¬
lowed by his disgraceful denial of Jesus in the hour of trial
(John xiii. 36, 37 ; Mark xiv. 29, &c.) ; of his deep and
poignant contrition for this sin (Matthew xiv. 72); and of
his Lord’s ample forgiveness of his offence, after he had re¬
ceived from him a profession of attachment as strong and
as frequently repeated as his former denial of him (John
xxi. 15-18). From these notices it is easy to gather a to¬
lerably correct conception of the predominating features of
the apostle’s character up to this period. He seems to have
been a man of undoubted piety, of ardent attachment to
his Master, and of great zeal for what he deemed his Mas¬
ter’s honour, but at the same time with a mind rather
quick than accurate in its apprehensions, and with feelings
rather hasty in their impulse than determined and con¬
tinuous in their exercise. Hence his readiness in avowing
his opinions, and his rashness in forming them; and hence
also the tendency which beset his honest openness to de¬
generate into bravado, and his determinations of valour to
evaporate into cowardice at appalling forms of danger. His
fall, however, and his subsequent restoration, connected as
these were with the mysterious events of his Master’s cru¬
cifixion and resurrection, and with the new light which had St. Peter,
by them been cast around his character and work, produced
a powerful change for the better upon the apostle’s mind.
From this time forward he comes before us under a new
aspect. A sober dignity and firmness of purpose have
displaced his former hasty zeal; sagacity and prudence
characterize his conduct; and whilst his love to his Master
shows no symptom of abatement, it displays itself rather
in active labour and much-enduring patience in his service,
than in loud protestations or extravagant exhibitions of
attachment. In the subsequent Scripture history he is pre¬
sented to us as the courageous herald of the kingdom of
Christ, by whose mouth the first public declaration of sal¬
vation through the crucified Jesus was made to the people ;
by whose advice and counsel the early churches were
planted and governed; and by whom the prejudices of
Judaism were first fairly surmounted, and the gospel
preached in all its universal freeness to the Gentile world.
The Acts of the Apostles contain recitals of many in¬
teresting incidents which befell him whilst engaged in
those efforts. Of these, the chief are his imprisonment
and trial before the Sanhedrim, for preaching Christ, and
his bold avowal of his determination to persist in that work
(Acts iv. 1-22); his miraculously inflicting the punish¬
ment of death on the infatuated couple who had dared to
try an experiment upon the omniscience of the Holy Ghost
(v. 1-11); his visit to Samaria, and rebuke of Simon Magus,
who deemed that the miracles of the apostle were the wrork
of some deep magic spell of which he had not yet become
possessed, and which consequently he was desirous of pur¬
chasing from Peter (viii. 14—24); the vision by which he was
taught that the ancient ritual distinctions between clean and
unclean had been abolished, and thereby prepared to attend
on the summons of Cornelius, to whom he preached the
gospel (x. 1-48) ; his apprehension by Herod Agrippa, and
his deliverance by the interposition of an angel, who opened
for him the doors of his prison, and set him free (xii. 3-19);
and his address to the council at Jerusalem, on the occa¬
sion of a request for advice and direction being sent to the
church there by the church in Antioch, in which he advo¬
cated the the exemption of Gentile converts from the cere¬
monial institutes of the law of Moses (xv. 6—11). In all
these incidents we trace the evidences of his. mind having
undergone an entire change, both as to its views of truth
and impressions of duty, from what is displayed by the
earlier events of his history. On one occasion only do we
detect something of his former weakness, and that strange y
enough in regard to a matter in which he had been the
first of the apostles to perceive, and the first to recommend
and follow, a correct course of procedure. The occasion
referred to was his withdrawing, through dread of the cen¬
sures of his Jewish brethren, from the Gentiles at Antioch,
after having lived in free and friendly intercourse with them,
and his timidly dissembling his convictions as to the religious
equality of Jew and Gentile. For this Paul withstood him
to the face, and rebuked him sharply, because of the injury
which his conduct was calculated to produce to the cause
of Christianity. With this single exception, however, his
conduct seems to have been in full accordance with the
name which his Master had prophetically bestowed on him
when he called him Simon the Rock, and with the position
which Paul himself assigns to him, at the very time that he
recounts his temporary dereliction, as one of the pillars
of the church.”1 . . . , ,
Thus far we are enabled, from the inspired documents,
Gal. n. 9-14. The circumstance of Peter’s having suhmtted to a rehuk f Jatt tg have been Pmacl8 to set aside its force by
urged in favour of his supremacy over the other apostles, that from a very e J 8 ^ kg ^ ^ passage referred to.
the hypothesis that it is not of Peter the apostle, but of allot1herlI,erS°“ aLted bv the WOrds of Paul, v/ho explicitly ascribes apostleship
[Conf. Euseb. H. E. i. 13.) This hypothesis, however, is so plain y ^ by the m’ost blinded Jalot. See ver. 8, 9.
to the Peter of whom he writes, that it is astonishing how it could have een ■ j »
VOL. XVII.
f-
482
PETER.
St. Peter, to trace the history of this apostle; but for what remains
we must be indebted to evidence of a less explicit and cer¬
tain character. The testimony of several of the eccle¬
siastical writers, corroborated by the phraseology employed
by the apostle himself in the salutation of his first Epistle,
makes it highly probable that at some period of his official
life he performed an extensive missionary tour throughout
those districts, to the converts to which his Epistles were
addressed. “ It appears,” says Origen, “ that Peter preached
to the Jews in the dispersion, in Pontus, Galatia, Bithynia,
Cappadocia, and Asia.”1 * A less certain tradition reports the
apostle as having, towards the close of his life, visited Rome,
become bishop of the church in that city, and suffered mar¬
tyrdom in the persecution raised against the Christians by
Nero. The importance of these points in connection with
the claims urged by the Catholics on behalf of the supre¬
macy of the Pope, has led to a carefiil and sifting examina¬
tion of the accuracy of this tradition, the result of which
seems to be that, whilst it is admitted as certain that
Peter suffered martyrdom, in all probability by crucifixion,
and as probable that this took place at Rome, it has, ne¬
vertheless, been made pretty clear that he never was for any
length of time resident in that city, and morally certain
that he never was bishop of the church there.3 4 By some
an attempt has been made to obtain the support of the
apostle’s own testimony in favour of his having at one period
resided at Rome, by interpreting the words “ the church
that is at Babylon,” the salutations of which he sends to
those to whom he wrote his first Epistle, as applying to the
church at Rome; an attempt which Dr Campbell justly
stigmatizes as “ poor, not to call it ridiculous.” Even if
we admit that at the time when this Epistle was written it
was understood amongst the Christians that Babylon was
the prophetical name for Rome, an admission, however,
which is entirely unsupported by evidence, it would remain
unexplained why the apostle, in such a mere mattei-of-fact
affair as the communication of the friendly salutations of one
church to another, should have employed the obscure and
symbolical language of prophecy, when his meaning could
have been so much more distinctly conveyed by a simple
statement. This would be the more inexplicable, that the
stvle of Peter is remarkably plain and perspicuous through¬
out the entire Epistle. It seems much more consistent,
therefore, with rational principles of interpretation, to un¬
derstand the statement literally of Babylon in Egypt, in
which city, as we learn from Josephus, there was a great
multitude of Jews (ivOa. kcu ttA^os r/v lorScucov, A?it. Jud.,
1. xv., c. ii., sect. 2; see also c. hi., sect. 1), and to which,
consequently, it is almost certain, that at some period of his
life, “ the apostle of the circumcision” (Gal. li. 8) must have
paid a visit. ., „ „
The assertion, that St Peter was bishop of Rome, is con¬
nected with another by which the claims of the Papacy are
sought to be established,—namely, that to him was con¬
ceded a right of supremacy over the other apostles. In
support of this, an appeal is made to those passages in tie
Gospels where declarations supposed to imply the bestowal
of peculiar honour and distinction on Peter are recorded as
having been addressed to him by our Lord. The most im¬
portant of these are, “ Thou art Peter, and on this rock wi
I build my church” (Matt. xvi. 18) ; and “ Unto thee will
I give the keys of the kingdom of heaven,’ &c. (Matt. xvi.
19). At first sight these passages would seem to bear out
the assumption founded on them; but upon a moi e care¬
ful investigation it will be seen that this is rather in ap¬
pearance than in reality. The force of both is greatly im- St. Peter,
paired for the purpose for which Catholics produce them,
by the circumstance, that whatever of power or authority
they may be supposed to confer upon Peter must be re¬
garded as shared by him with the other apostles, inasmuch
as to them also are ascribed in other passages the same
qualities and powers which are promised to Peter in those
under consideration. If by the former of these passages we
are to understand that the church is built upon Peter, the
apostle Paul informs us that it is not on him alone that it
is built, but upon all the apostles (Ephes. ii. 20) ; and in the
book of Revelation we are told, that on the twelve founda¬
tions of the New Jerusalem (the Christian church) are in¬
scribed “the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb”
(chap. xxi. 14). As for the declaration in the latter of these
passages, it was in all its essential parts repeated by oui
Lord to the other disciples immediately before his passion,
as announcing a privilege which, as his apostles, they were
to possess in common (Matt, xviii. 18 ; John xx. 23). It is,
moreover, uncertain in what sense our Lord used the lan¬
guage in question. In both cases his words are meta¬
phorical ; and nothing can be more unsafe than to build a
theological dogma upon language of which the meaning is
not clear, and to which, from the earliest ages, different in¬
terpretations have been affixed. And, finally, even granting
the correctness of that interpretation which Catholics put
upon these verses, it will not bear out the conclusion they
would deduce from them, inasmuch as the judicial supre¬
macy of Peter over the other apostles does not necessarily
follow from his possessing authority over the church. On
the other side, it is certain that there is no instance on re¬
cord of the apostle’s having ever claimed or exercised this
supposed power; but, on the contrary, he is oftener than
once represented as submitting to an exercise of power
upon the part of others, as when, for instance, he went forth
as a messenger from the apostles assembled in Jerusalem to
the Christians in Samaria (Acts viii. 14), and when he re¬
ceived a rebuke from St Paul, as already noticed. Whilst,
however, it is pretty well established that Peter enjoyed no
judicial supremacy over the other apostles, it would perhaps
be going too far to affirm that no dignity or primacy whatso¬
ever was conceded to him on the part of hisbiethren. Ilis
superiority in point of age, his distinguished personal ex¬
cellence, his reputation and success as a teacher of Christi¬
anity, and the prominent part which he had ever taken in
his Master’s affairs, both before his death and after his as¬
cension, furnished sufficient grounds for his being raised to
a position of respect and of moral influence in the church
and amongst his brother apostles. To this some counte¬
nance is given by the circumstances, that he is called the
first,” TrpwTos, by Matthew (chap. x. 2), and that appaiently
not merely as a numerical, but as an honorary distinction ;
that when the apostles are mentioned as a body, it is fre¬
quently by the phrase, “ Peter and the eleven,” or, “Peter
and the rest of the apostles,” or something similar; and that
when Paul went up to Jerusalem by Divine revelation, it
was to Peter particularly that the visit was paid. I hese
circumstances, taken in connection with the prevalent voice
of Christian antiquity, would seem to authorize the opinion
that Peter occupied some such position as that of TTpoecrms,
or president in the apostolical college, but without any power
or authority of a personal kind over his brother apostles.4
The extant writings of the apostle Peter are confined to
two brief Epistles, of which the former has been universally
admitted as genuine, whilst the latter has by many been re-
See also Euseb. iii. 4.
“ Petrus Passion! Dominic* ad*quatur.” (TertuU. De Prvscrip. 38.) See also Lactant. De Mortibus Pence., c. ii.
1 In Genesin, lib. iii., ap.; Euseb. H. E. iii. 1.
3 See Barrow’s Treatise on the foTe^rema^Zksby HughW vol.vii., P- 207, ff); CampbeE’s/^tu^ Eccl HisL
Neanders Qeschichte der Pflanzung und Lcitung der Christ. Kirche, p.479, Eng. trans., vol. i., pp. 377-383; Winer s Bibhsches Realwo
terbuch in Petrus, tic. .. s
4 Campbell’s Eccles. Hist., lect. v. and xii.; Barrow’s Treatise, ut sup., orks, vol. vn., p. 144, it. &c.
PET
P E T 483
Peter, jected as spurious. The grounds of this rejection, however,
are extremely insecure, as they depend chiefly upon nice
distinctions and analogies of style between the two Epistles,
which are seldom drawn with such unerring accuracy as to
induce us to attach very much weight to them.1 The per¬
sons to whom these Epistles were addressed were converted
Jews scattered over the districts enumerated by the apostle
in the commencement of the first of them. The Epistles
themselves are characterized by great vigour of conception,
warmth of feeling, and force of eloquence. The style is
glowing and rapid, approaching at times to vehemence;
and the sentiments are of the most elevated description.
The exhortation to holiness with which the second chapter
of the first Epistle concludes is perhaps unequalled in the
New Testament for the appropriateness of its sentiments,
the beauty of its appeals, and the concentrated energy and
rapid flow of the style; nor would it be easy to find any
passage, either in sacred or profane literature, that should
surpass in vividness of description and power of expression
the prophetic view of the end of the world with which, to¬
wards the conclusion of the second Epistle, he enforces his
exhortation to holy conversation and godliness. In both
Epistles we trace the characteristic ardour and the elevated
piety of their author, and of both we may justly say, in the
language of the excellent Leighton, that they are eminently
adapted “ to establish Christians in believing, to direct them
in doing, and to comfort them in suffering, often setting
before them the matchless example of the Lord Jesus,
and the greatness of their engagement to follow him.”
“ Peter,” says a recent German writer, “ has, according to
his own fundamental trait, conveyed the character of en¬
during firmness from the life of Christ to the church. The
shadow sides of this fundamental trait have been represented
in the Romish hierarchy ; the light sides in the pure form of
the church confessions, the church institution, order, disci¬
pline, and manifestations.” (Lange, Das Apostol. Zeitalter,
i. 357. See also Neander, Gesch. d. Pfi. und Leit. der
Christ. Kirch., p. 443-463, Eng. tr., vol. i., p. 368-383;
Hug’s Introduction by Fosdick, p. 635 ; Davidson’s iftfro-
duction to the Neiu Testament, vol. iii., &c.) (w. L. A.)
Peter the Hermit, the apostle of the first Crusade,
was descended from a good family, and was born at Amiens
in France about the middle of the eleventh century. The
first part of his career was passed in obscurity. He served
without distinction in the army of the counts of Boulogne,
and then retired into the privacy of married life. It was
not until 1095, after he had kindled and fostered a fana¬
tical zeal in the solitude of a hermitage, that the real force
of his character began to appear. Happening about that
time to be on a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, and feel¬
ing enraged at the indignities offered by the Moslems to the
scenes of sacred history, he formed the arduous project of
wresting Palestine from the infidels. To return to Europe
and lay his plan before the Supreme Pontiff w'as his first
measure. The Pope approved of the enterprise, and sent
him forth to preach a crusade. A bare-headed, bare-footed,
little, shrivelled old man, mounted on an ass, wrapped in a
coarse garment, girded with a rope, and bearing a heavy
crucifix in his hand, Peter the Hermit rode forth to sum¬
mon Christendom to arms. As he addressed the people
that everywhere thronged his path, he rose to the highest
fervour of enthusiasm. His lively imagination conjured up
the scenes of profanity transacted in the Holy City; his
keen eye kindled martial fire among the populace ; he burst
out at intervals into wrapt ejaculations to heaven; he drowned
his voice betimes in a tempest of sighs and tears. How he
succeeded in raising the first Crusade, and how he failed
in conducting the expedition, is given under Crusades.
The subsequent part of the Hermit’s career is merged in
obscurity. He died in 1115 in a monastery which he had
founded in the diocese of Liege. (See Gibbon’s History.)
Peter of Blois (better known under the Latin form of
his name, Petrus Blesensis), a learned man of the twelfth
century, was born about the year 1120, at the city of Blois
in France, from which he derived his name. He studied
first at the university of Paris, where he displayed a fond¬
ness for poetry and rhetoric. From Paris he proceeded to
Bologna to study civil and canon law, a branch of knowledge
in which he very much excelled. A long-lost work of
Petrus Blesensis on canon law and process was discovered
some years ago, and an account of it published in the
Zeitschrift fur Geschichtliche Rechtwissenschaft, vol. vii.
From his writings it appears that he cultivated medicine,
and several branches of the mathematics, with no little care
and success. But the study of theology formed the chief
delight and business of his life. Unfortunately, however,
the theology he studied was of that scholastic kind which
consisted in vain attempts to explain and prove by logic
the many absurd opinions which then prevailed. In at¬
tempting to explain the doctrine of the real presence, as
held by the Latin church, he was the first who employed
the famous term transubstantiation, which was soon after¬
wards adopted by the church, and has ever since been re¬
tained. Being appointed preceptor to William II., King of
Sicily, in 1167, he obtained the custody of the privy seal;
and, next to the Archbishop of Palermo, who was the prime
minister, he had the greatest influence in all affairs. His
power, however, was not of long duration; for the arch¬
bishop being banished in 1168, Peter soon afterwards left
the court of Sicily, and returned into France. But in a
short time he found another royal patron, having been in¬
vited into England by Henry II., who employed him as
his private secretary, made him archdeacon of Bath, and
gave him some other benefices. Having spent a few years
at court, however, he got tired of that way of life, of which
in one of his letters he has drawn a very unpleasing picture,^
and retired into the family of Richard, Archbishop of
Canterbury, who had made him his chancellor about tlm
year 1176. In this station he continued until the death of
the archbishop in 1183, enjoying the highest degree of
favour with that prelate, though he used much freedom in
reproving him for his remissness in the government of the
church. He continued in the same station in the family
of Archbishop Baldwin, who succeeded Richard, acting
both as his secretary and as his chancellor. In 1187 he
was also sent by the latter prelate on an embassy to Rome,
to plead his cause before Urban III. in the famous contro¬
versy between him and the monks of Canterbury respecting
the church of Hackington. After the departure ofhis friend
and patron Baldwin for the Holy Land in the year 11 JO,
Peter was in his old age involved in various troubles, the
causes of which are not distinctly known ; and he died in
England in 1200. He appears from his works, which
mav be justly reckoned amongst the most valuable monu¬
ments of the age in which he flourished, to have been a
man of great integrity and sincere piety, as well as of a
lively, inventive genius, and uncommon erudition. His
printed works consist of a great number of letters, which
he collected together at the desire of Henry II., and of
sermons and tracts. The best edition of his works is that
of Pierre de Goussainville, Paris, 1667, fob
Peter I., Czar of Russia, usually syled “ I he Great,
was born in 1672, succeeded to the undivided sovereignty
in 1689, and died in 1725. (See Russia.)
Peter II., Czar of Russia, grandson of the preceding,
was born in 1715, ascended the throne in 1727, and died
in 1730. (See Russia.) ,
Peter III., Czar of Russia, another grandson of Peteir
Peter.
1 Horne’s Introduction, vol. iv., p. 434, ff.; Sherlock’s Dissertation on
the Second Epistle of Peter.
484
PET
Peter’s
Pence
II
Peter¬
borough.
the Great, was born in 1728, succeeded to the throne in
1762, and was strangled in the same year. (See Russia.)
PETER’S PENCE, the name applied to an annual tri¬
bute of one penny formerly paid to the Pope at the festival
of St Peter. In England every family possessed of twenty
pennyworth of any sort of goods was considered liable. Ina
the Saxon king, when he went in pilgrimage to Rome about
the year 740, paid this contribution to the Pope, partly as
alms and partly in recompense of a house erected in Rome
for English pilgrims; and the same continued to be paid
generally until the time of Henry VIII., when it was en¬
acted that henceforth no person should pay any pensions,
Peter’s pence, or other impositions, for the use of the bishop
or see of Rome.
PETERBOROUGH, a parliamentary borough of Eng¬
land, the countv town of Northamptonshire, stands on the
left bank of the Nen, here crossed by a wooden bridge, 40
miles N.E. of Northampton, and 76 N. by W. of London.
It consists of several streets, close to the river, straight, well
paved, and lined with good houses. 40 the west a suburb
has been erected, which contains many handsome houses.
The most important public building is the cathedral, a fine
old specimen of Norman and early English architecture.
It is in the form of a cross, of the following dimensions,—
length, 476 feet; breadth of the nave and aisles, 78 feet;
height of the ceiling, 78 feet; breadth at the transepts, 203
feet; breadth of the transepts, 69 feet; height of the central
tower, 150 feet. Its most striking feature is the west front,
which is an addition to the nave, and consists of (hree
pointed arches 80 feet high, supported by clustered pillars,
and surmounted by lofty pediments and pinnacles, while at
each end rises a turret with a spire. The interior is beau¬
tiful and well proportioned, but contains few monuments or
shrines, as it was stripped of most of its ornaments during
the civil wars. Katherine of Aragon and Mary, Queen of
Scots, were both buried in Peterborough cathedral; but
no monuments mark the places; and the remains of the
latter were afterwards removed to Westminster Abbey. At
the west front of the cathedral is a court, containing va¬
rious well-preserved remains of ancient monastic edifices.
Besides the cathedral, Peterborough contains several hand¬
some public buildings. Ihe parish church is a large stone
edifice ; the town-hall is small but neat; and the corn ex¬
change, built in 1848, is a handsome specimen of the Italian
style, and contains a large market-room lighted from the
roof. There is also a jail, and house of correction of Nor¬
man architecture. The Dissenting places of worship in¬
clude Wesleyan, Independent, Baptist, and Primitive Me¬
thodist chapels. There is an endowed cathedral grammar
school, which had, in 1854, thirty-three scholars; another
endowed school, a national school, infant schools, a mecha¬
nics’ institution with a library, and a savings-bank.
benevolent establishments comprise a dispensary, an infirm¬
ary, alms-houses, &c. The trade of Peterborough consists
chiefly of corn and malt, brought down the Nen ftom the
interior for export; and of coal, timber, bricks, and stone,
which are imported. The principal manufactory is a large
steam flour-mill recently erected. Peterborough is the seat
of a bishop; and the dean and chapter have a certain julis"
diction over the town, as there is no corporation. Since
the time of Edward VI., the borough has returned two
members to Parliament. An abbey was founded here
by Peada, the son of Penda, King of Mercia, during the
time of the Heptarchy. Its original name was Medesham-
stede; but this was changed to that of Burgh, Gilden-
burgh, or Peter-burgh, in the time of Edgar, when it was
restored, after having been destroyed by the Danes in the
ninth century. A village soon began to rise around it; but
in 1116 this, as well as a large part of the abbey, was de¬
stroyed by fire. The restoration of the monastic buildings
was soon commenced, and gradually carried on for a long
PET
time; and it was not till the beginning of the sixteenth Peter-
century that the cathedral assumed its present aspect. At borough
the time of the Reformation, Peterborough was one of the Jh
most magnificent of the ecclesiastical establishments, and fe^ern^;
was chosen by Henry VIII. as the seat of one of the
new bishoprics. The monastic buildings were then pre¬
served ; but they were destroyed in the time of Charles I.,
and the cathedral itself much injured. Pop. 8672.
PETERBOROUGH, Earl of. See Mordaunt,
Charles.
PETERHEAD, a parliamentary and municipal burgh
and seaport of Scotland, in the county of Aberdeen, stands
on a peninsula, forming the most easterly promontory
of the mainland, 33 miles N.N.E. of Aberdeen, and 146
from Edinburgh. The streets are for the most part broad;
and being exposed to the bracing breezes of the ocean, it
is peculiarly exempt from epidemical diseases. It is well
supplied with excellent spring water, brought from about
3 miles inland. The houses are built of the fine red granite
which is quarried in the vicinity, and which takes its name
from the town. Among the public buildings, the most im¬
portant is the town-house, which has a handsome spire 125
feet high. The parish church, built in 1803, near the west end
of the town, is also surmounted by a lofty granite spire of
the height of 118 feet There are also places of worship
belonging to the Free Church, the Scotch Episcopal Chuich,
the United Presbyterians, Independents, Methodists, and
Roman Catholics. The market-cross, erected in 1833, con¬
sists of a Tuscan column of granite, having on the top the
armorial bearings of the earls marischal, surmounted by
the Scottish lion. The principal educational establish¬
ments of the town are the parish school, the Fiee Chuich
school, the academy, the Episcopal Church school, and the
union or industrial school; and there are also a news¬
room and an extensive circulating library. There is a
museum and a cabinet of coins of considerable value, tlm
gift of the late Adam Arbuthnot, Esq.; but from want of
adequate accommodation, these collections have not yet been
rendered properly available. 1 here is a sick benefit insti¬
tution, and several friendly societies. Ihe manufactuies
are not extensive ; but there are large bone and saw mil s,
an iron foundry, a woollen cloth manufactory, a rope-work,
breweries, and a brick and tile work, besides extensive
premises for oil-boiling and the other processes connecte
with the extensive fisheries which are carried on. Petei-
head ranks high as an enterprising commercial and. seaport
town. Here the Greenland whale and seal fisheries have
been carried on since 1788. At present there aie 2b ves¬
sels employed in that trade, of 7885 registered tons, anc
manned by 1385 seamen. This number exceeds that of
all the vessels in the trade from the other ports inGieat
Britain. During the nine years from 1849 to 1857 there
were brought to Peterhead the produce of 651,474 se^j
and 207 whales, which, besides the seal-skins, yielded 10,86
tons of oil and 2783 cwt. of whale-bone, and the value is
estimated at L.550,398. The herring fishery is also exten¬
sively carried on, the number of boats commonly ranging
from'230 to 400 annually, ranking in this respect second
only to Wick among the stations on the coasts of Scotian .
The white fishery is actively carried on at the villages in
the neighbourhood, and the fish is brought to Peterhead for
shipment to the London and other markets. Besides the ex¬
ports arising from the fisheries and the agricultural produce
of the district, there is a considerable export of granite from
the extensive quarries in the vicinity. It may be obtained
in very large blocks, and when polished is very beautiful.
The pillars in the British Museum, the docks at Sheerness,
the York column in London, and many other public works,
are of Peterhead granite ; and in a polished state it has been
used in many ornamental designs. The principal imports
consist of British and foreign timber, tar, hemp, coals, hme,
PET
PET
485
Peterhead,
manure, salt, iron, wool, soft goods, groceries, flour, and
wooden hoops. Peterhead has a custom-house on the full
establishment for the district, which includes Fraserburgh
and Boddam. Ship-building is carried on to some extent.
The number of sailing-vessels registered as belonging to the
port on December 31, 1857, was 74, tonnage 13,419; steam-
vessels 2, tonnage 327. During 1857 there entered the
port 544 sailing-vessels, tonnage 59,389; and 26 steam-
vessels, tonnage 3978; while there cleared 406 sailing-
vessels, tonnage 18,827 ; and 26 steam-vessels, tonnage
3978. Peterhead possesses two Barbours, the north and
the south, which communicate by means of a canal; and
thus vessels may enter and leave the one or the other in
any wind. That portion of the peninsula thus formed into
an island is called Keith Inch, and is connected with the
mainland by an excellent swing-bridge with a double road¬
way. The south harbour has a depth of 11^- feet of wrater
at medium spring-tides, and the north harbour 16-J feet.
They have together an area of about 17 imperial acres,
and are protected by substantially-built breakwaters, within
which are commodious quays and piers. There are also two
excellent graving-docks, where repairs can be speedily made
on vessels under 600 tons. The south breakwater was con¬
structed in 1773, according to a plan by the late Mr Smeaton,
engineer ; and the north breakwater in 1818, according to a
plan by the late Mr Telford. About L.105,000 have been
expended on the building and improving of these harbours
and docks since 1773, of which L. 15,000 was obtained from
government by grants from the forfeited estates fund. 1 he
harbour revenue amounted for the year 1857-8 to L.4392.
The importance of the harbours is enhanced by their being
situated near the outer extremity of the south bay, a beauti¬
ful sheet of water, nearly 2 miles across, and extending
more than a mile inland. It has ample depth of water for
a fleet of the largest vessels, and its anchorage is of a very
superior description. To protect this bay with proper break¬
waters is all that is necessary to make it a national harbour of
incalculable value. So long ago as the reign of Charles II.
the importance of the harbours of Peterhead as a port at¬
tracted the attention of the legislature, and an act was
passed for their improvement; and since then, from time to
time, public attention has been directed to them. At pre¬
sent they are being made the subject of inquiry by a royal
commission appointed to report on the best site for a har¬
bour of refuge on the east coast of Scotland. For this
purpose, from what has been said, it will be seen that
Peterhead offers many advantages. It is also nearly mid¬
way between the firths of Forth and Cromarty, it occu¬
pies a salient position on the coast, and is the nearest point
of Britain to the Baltic. About 240 vessels take shelter
annually in these harbours, and about 600 in the south bay,
in its present unprotected state, which prevents its being
available in the winter months. A railway between Aber¬
deen, Peterhead, and Fraserburgh is about to be constructed,
which will materially contribute to the prosperity of the town.
Peterhead was for upwards of two centuries a favourite
watering-place, and its mineral waters were in repute for
stomach and bowel complaints, nervous affections, and
general debility. Sea-bathing is also to be had here,
either on the shores of the open sea, or in the baths, of which
there are two for the different sexes, with hot-water vapour
baths, &c. Peterhead was erected into a burgh of barony
by George, earl marischal, in 1593, previously to which it
was an unimportant fishing village. A large portion of the
lands in the parish continued to belong to the marischal
family till 1715, when they were forfeited to the Crown,
the then earl having actively espoused the cause of the
Stuart family. The estate was then purchased by the
York Building Company, who sold it in 1728 to the gover¬
nors of the Merchant Maiden Hospital of Edinburgh, who
still continue to be the superiors of the town. By the ori¬
ginal
Peters.
&  charter in 1593, the earl marischal established a Peter-le-
municipal government in the town, and the system con- 1>0rt
tinued till the passing of the Burgh Reform Act in 1833,
which conferred on the town the privilege of electing a .
provost, three bailies, and a treasurer, out of a body of
twelve councillors appointed by the electors. Peterhead
unites with Elgin, Cullen, Banff, Inverury, and Kintore in
returning a member to Parliament; and its constituency
amounts to 250. The population of the burgh in 1851
amounted to 7747, besides about 500 absent seamen. The
rental of property within the burgh amounts to L.14,081.
The assessment for poor in the parish in 1858 was L.2200.
The remains of two ancient small forts, and the ruins of
Ravenscrag, and of the castle of Boddam, are in the vicinity.
Ravenscrag is a fine specimen of an old baronial castle, not
in a very dilapidated state. The walls are in many places
11 feet in thickness ; and the date of its erection is assigned
to the eleventh or twelfth century. The ruins of Boddam
Castle stand on a narrow promontory immediately south of
Buchanness, on each side of which there is a deep chasm,
forming precipices of great height. A good many relics of
antiquity have at different times been found in the neigh¬
bouring parishes.
PETER-LE-PORT, or St Peter Port, the chief
town of the island of Guernsey, on a bay on the east coast.
It is built on the slope of a hill, and extends nearly a mile
along the shore, presenting a very fine appearance from the
sea, as the houses rise one above the other along the
slope. In the Old Town, the streets are narrow, irregular,
and steep, and the houses old and gloomy-looking; but
the New Town, as the upper part of St Peter Port is called,
and especially Hauteville, which lies to the S.W., are
more modern, and much better built; while the neighbour¬
ing country is extremely beautiful, and is studded with
villas belonging to the gentry, who seldom reside in the
town itself. Among the public edifices, one of the most
important is the government-house, a large though some¬
what heavy building. Near it stands Elizabeth College,
founded in 1563 by that queen, and rebuilt (1826-30) in
the Tudor style ; and not far off is Victoria Tower, erected
in honour of the Queen’s visit to the town in 1848. St
Peter’s church, built in 1312, has a tower with a lovv spire
in the centre, and is a good specimen of the flamboyant
style of architecture; and there are in the town a number of
other churches and chapels belonging to Methodists, Inde¬
pendents, Baptists, Quakers, Roman Catholics, and Ply¬
mouth Brethren. The town has also a neat court-house,
custom-house, prison, public library, assembly-rooms, and
theatre. Besides the college, which has three fellowships
and five scholarships at Oxford, there are several schools
as well as a mechanics’ institution with a library of 3000
volumes. The principal charitable establishment is the
town hospital for the sick and destitute. e ^ 0“
of St Peter Port, formed by two piers 80 feet apart at
the entrance, is hardly large enough for the trade of the
place The roadstead, however, affords good anchorage,
and is sheltered from the S.W. Two forts, Castle Cornet
an ancient and picturesque structure on a small island
within half a mile of the shore, and Fort George, on the
heights about half a mile south of the town, foim the de¬
fences ; and the latter is a place of great strength. 1 ie
articles manufactured in St Peter Port are tobacco, snuff,
soap, candles, bricks, ropes, cordage, cider, and spirits.
The principal exports are granite, bricks, cement, potatoeb,
fruit, and vinegar; the imports, grain, fish, and other artic es.
St Peter Port sends seventy members to the States of Elec¬
tion, and six to the States of Deliberation. Pop. of parish
(1851), 16,778. ^ f
PETERS, or Peeters, Ronaventura, a Dutch aitist,
was born at Amsterdam in 1614. He soon attained great
excellence as a marine painter. His storm-pieces repre-
486 PETERSBURG.
Petersburg, senting a ship foundering upon a rock, and sailors clinging
'>>—v—^ to spars amid the raging surf, were executed with great
truth and originality. Scarcely less successful were his
pictures of a calm sea-shore, with towns and castles on the
coast, and of a sluggish river, with boats and barges sailing
before a gentle breeze. He might have risen to still
greater proficiency had he not died prematurely in 1652.
Bonaventura Peters had a younger brother Jan, who imi¬
tated him both in style and in the choice of subjects.
PETERSBURG, or more correctly St Petersburg, at
present the capital of the Russian empire, the residence of
the sovereign, and the official centre of the administration,
occupies the most northern position of any large place
upon the globe, being in 59. 56. N. Lat., and 47. 58. E.
Long. It stands about 20 miles above the mouth of the
Neva, on a species of alluvial delta formed by the division
of the main current into a multitude of smaller branches,
and so exceedingly low as to have been originally almost
on a level with the surface of the Gulf of Finland. It is
only by the artificial elevation of its marshy soil to from 2
to 5 feet above its original level, that it has been effectively
drained, and rendered comparatively free from inundations.
The capture, from the Swedes, in 1702, of Noteburg (now
Schlusselburg), a fortress situated at the point of exit of the Neva
from Lake Ladoga, together with the taking, in the following year,
of the fort of Nyenschantz, by making Peter the Great master of
the whole course of the river, seem first to have inspired that active
prince with the idea of establishing here a strong military post
and a commercial port. On the 16th May 1703, he laid, with his
own hands, the foundation of the fortress which still exists in the
centre of the city, and to which he gave the name of Petersburg.
It is, however, highly improbable that the gigantic project of
founding here the capital of an extensive empire could have at first
possessed his mind; and it was not till the great victory of Pol¬
tava, in 1709, had made him master of the whole southern shore of
the Gulf of Finland, that he ultimately determined upon the violent
and entirely artificial creation of a city which has been well styled
“ a loophole by which the light of western trade and civilization
was to be admitted into the darkness of half-oriental barbarism”
in which Russia was then buried. In a letter written by Peter
on the field of battle, announcing to Count Apraxin the important
victory he had just gained at Poltava, he significantly says i
“ The foundation-stone of Petersburg, which has been for some time
ready, is this day, with the blessing of God, definitely laid.”
The construction of the city once determined on, Peter proceeded
to execute his project with a barbaric energy and ardour which
no obstacles could check or abate. The workmen first employed
were Finns from the neighbouring districts, Swedish prisoners of
war, and criminals condemned to hard labour; but in the end
of the year 1709 orders were given to assemble from all parts of
the empire, and even from Siberia, skilled workmen and labourers,
in two divisions, each consisting of 20,000 men, which relieved each
other in spring and summer. Exclusive of these, a large body of
masons and bricklayers was separately organized for the purpose,
and a forced levy was imposed upon the whole district in the
vicinity of Moscow, of 3000 men with axes, of whom every tenth
man wras to be supplied with carpenter’s tools and a horse. This
levy amounted to 1 person on every 35 families; and the remain¬
ing 34 houses were obliged to give a money contribution, amount¬
ing to 2 altuins (equivalent to 15d. of our money), in lieu of personal
service. During the first four years, it is calculated that 150,000
men were sent to the works at St Petersburg ; and in order still fur¬
ther to accelerate its construction, Peter forbade, under the severest
penalties, the erection of any brick or stone buildings throughout
the empire. By means of this species of impressment, which con¬
tinued uninterruptedly for nine years, the works rapidly advanced ;
but at a terrible cost of human life, caused by the unhealthy
climate and the nature of the labour. At length it was found ex¬
pedient to change the system of obtaining labour; and in 1718 the
works were distributed among private contractors, and the compul¬
sory impressment was replaced by a pecuniary impost.
Nor were less severe and arbitrary measures employed for
peopling the infant capital. The first inhabitants of the city con¬
sisted of the labourers collected from the interior of the empire,
whose number, in 1713, amounted to 2500 persons, not including
1100 immediately attached to the imperial residences. No volun¬
tary settlers making their appearance, Peter decreed—1. That all
persons under age, of noble condition, who were not receiving a
public education or attached to the public service, should be
obliged to reside in St Petersburg. 2. That all persons attached
to the court, and other nobles proprietors of 30 serfs and Petersburg,
upwards, should likewise be obliged to immigrate to the new city, v | '
and should erect houses there. 3. That a colony of 300 persons
from the mercantile community of Moscow, and 300 artificers from
the same city, should be transplanted to Petersburg; and 4. In
1717 orders were given to the provincial municipalities, under
pain of the severest punishments, to select from the mercantile and
artizan classes a certain number of respectable and wealthy fami¬
lies, and to transfer them without delay to St Petersburg. These
severe and violent expedients, however, were not always successful
in attaining their object: the nobility, under various pretexts,
evaded an order which forced them to inhabit a region buried in
dreary forests and pestilential marshes; and the settlers from the
inferior classes profited by every opportunity to escape. But no
obstacles could arrest the indomitable will of Peter : his severe re¬
gulations still continued to be enforced, though occasionally with
some relaxation (thus, for example, in 1719 the nobles were per¬
mitted to absent themselves from St Petersburg, and to visit their
estates, but only for five months at a time) ; and it was not until
1721 that the public offices and state tribunals were transferred
from Moscow to the new capital.
The construction of Petersburg began with that portion of the
present city which lies in the immediate vicinity of the fortress,
on the northern or right bank of the Neva. The founder’s intention
was to cover the Vassilievskii Island with streets and houses, to
surround it with defences, and to intersect the whole with nume¬
rous canals, like Amsterdam and other towns, which he had doubt¬
less admired, in Holland. This project, however, was not executed.
During the reign of Peter some portions of the Admiralty quarter
(on the southern bank) began to be built upon; and it is to this
period that we must ascribe the erection of the following important
edifices, some of w’hich either no longer exist, or have been trans¬
formed to other purposes :—The four palaces (the Summer Palace,
the Winter one, that of the Tsarevitch Alexei, and that of the
Tsarevna Natalia), the cannon foundry with its village of habi¬
tations for the workmen, the admiralty, the galley-wharf, the
Gostiinnui Dvor or bazaar, and several residences of high func¬
tionaries. Some of the measures adopted by Peter to make his new
capital the principal seat of foreign trade with the countries lying
on or beyond the Baltic were as arbitrary as those by which he built
and peopled the city ; for example, in 1717 the port of Archangel
w'as forbidden to export more than one-third of the whole amount
of its goods, while the remaining two-thirds were to be sent to
Petersburg. In consequence of these protective measures, the
foreign trade of the new city soon began to exhibit a rapid deve¬
lopment ; so much so, that in the last years of Peter’s reign the
number of foreign vessels that entered at Cronstadt (which was
founded at the same time with Petersburg, and of which it forms
the port) had risen to 120, or at least one-tenth of the amount at
the present day.
The death of Peter the Great was followed by tbe abandonment
or the neglect of those energetic measures which were indispen¬
sable for the prosecution of a task so artificial as the construction
of a capital in an unfavourable site ; and the inhabitants, under
various pretexts, left unfinished the erections they had begun. To
complete the disorganization, a number of fires occurred in 1736
and 1737, unquestionably the work of incendiaries, whose obstinacy
could scarcely be overcome by the severest punishments. Many
spots thus became unoccupied, and multitudes of families remained
without a shelter, the devastated ground being allotted, without
regard to the rights of the former occupants, only to such persons
as would undertake to build without delay. To put a stop to
these irregularities, the Empress Anna Joannovna ordered the for¬
mation of a committee, of wrhich Miinich was president, charged
with superintending the rebuilding and extension of the city. In
general, it may be said that the town began to improve again dur¬
ing this reign : it was divided into five wards; and about 1737 it
numbered more than twenty churches and 70,000 inhabitants.
Under the Empress Elizabeth Petrovna, the violent measures
employed to secure the peopling of Petersburg began gradually to
be modified and relaxed. The inhabitants acquired the right of
purchasing and selling houses, and all classes now exhibited a gra¬
dually increasing willingness to settle in the new capital. Towards
the end of this reign the population reached 150,000, Among the
skilful architects invited from foreign countries to contribute to
the adornment of the city was the famous Rastrelli, who constructed
the Winter and Anitchkoff palaces, the beautiful church of the
Smolnoi monastery, and the houses belonging to Count Strogonoff,
to Voronzoff (now the Page-Corps), Razumofiskii, and Bobrinskii
(at present the Foundling Hospital). To this reign also belongs
the erection of the cathedral of St Nicholas of the Sea, the church
of the Annunciation in the Hay market/the brick bazaar, or Gostin-
noi Dvor, and many other edifices which still adorn the city.
The Empress Catherine H, exhibited an enlightened policy in
PETERSBURG.
487
Petersburg.ab°lishing t^ie oppressive regulations which had been intended
v z to promote the development of St Petersburg, and succeeded in
^ v attracting thither considerable numbers of the middle and indus¬
trious classes, by the advantages and privileges she accorded to
such as were willing to settle there ; so that towards the end of her
reign the population had reached 220,000, and the town was
divided into ten wards, containing 4600 houses, one-fifth of which
belonged to the state. Among the remarkable edifices of this
epoch we may specify the cathedral of the Alexander-Nevskii mo¬
nastery, the Marble and Tauride palaces, the Hermitage, and the
Academy of Arts.
During the short reign of Paul considerable attention was given
to the more equable allotment of the municipal imposts, and to the
relief of the inhabitants from the billeting of troops : for the latter
object several barracks were constructed; and the reforms begun
in this reign were carried out by the emperor’s successor, Alex¬
ander I. Few important additions were made to the architectural
beauty of the city,—the most considerable being >he castle or
palace of St Michael, then strongly fortified, and surrounded by a
fosse. It is to the reign of Alexander I. that Petersburg owes the
regularity of its appearance, as well as a number of its most orna¬
mental edifices ; among which we may particularize the cathedral of
Kazan, the Preobrajenskii church, the palace of the late Grand
Duke Michael, the vast Elat-Major, the Great Theatre, the Ex¬
change, and others. Towards the end of this reign the city con¬
tained 7600 houses and 400,000 inhabitants.
During the administration of the late Emperor Nicholas many
new edifices and monuments were added to those already existing;
as the cathedral of the Holy Trinity, the Senate, the cathedral of
St Isaac, the custom-house, two theatres, the offices of the depart¬
ments of the interior and public instruction, the Technological In¬
stitute, a number of vast barracks, the Alexander column, &c. At
the commencement of the present reign Petersburg may be re¬
garded as covering a space of more than 80 square versts (26
square miles), as containing 8230 houses and 480,000 inhabitants.
The river flows through a space of about eight miles
within the city, and divides, at nearly the centre of this
part of its course, into three principal branches,—the Great
Neva, the Little Nev4, and the Nevka, separating the town
into four districts or “ sides that of the Admiralty (lying
on the left bank), that of the Vassilievskii Island (in Rus¬
sian, Ostroff), that of Petersburg, and that of Viuborg.
The width of the Great Neva varies extremely in different
parts of the city: at its broadest point, a little above the
fortress, where it is crossed by the Troitskii (Irinity)
Bridge, it is 2100 feet from bank to bank; while at other
points it varies from that to about 1000 feet. The banks
of the principal arm, during its passage through a great
portion of the city, are on both sides lined with most mag¬
nificent granite quays, of a truly Roman grandeur and
solidity of construction. The latter being furnished with
an almost uninterrupted troitoir for foot-passengers, and
broad roads for carriages, give to the city that monumental
character of regularity and splendour which renders this
capital in some respects the most imposing in Europe. rl he
intensely blue colour and purity of the waters of the Neva,
and the rapidity of the current, give to this beautiful river
the appearance of being always full, and render it a main
ornament to the capital. The rapidity of the current is in¬
dicated by the number of cubic feet of water flowing in one
second at the following places :—Above the Nevskii monas¬
tery, 114,659^; below the Okhta, 115,103j; at the Sum¬
mer Garden, 89,932f; opposite Baird’s foundry, 73,983^.
The depth of the stream is also extremely unequal; being
greatest within the limits of the city, generally diminishing
after the principal stream divides into branches, and below
the town having its bed so encumbered with sand-banks as
to leave but a very narrow and winding channel for allow¬
ing vessels—and only those of verv moderate burthen—
to come up to Petersburg, where are situated the custom¬
house establishments. All large ships are thus obliged to
discharge at Cronstadt, where they remain, while their
cargoes are carried up and down the Neva by lighters.
The expense and inconvenience of this trans-shipment is
great; and the delay so considerable, that a cargo is often
longer in its transit from Cronstadt to Petersburg than in
its voyage from London to Cronstadt in a sailing-vessel. Petersburg,
Steam-tugs have only been for a comparatively recent
period employed on the river. Men-of-war, all vessels of
large size, built at Petersburg, have to be transported, even
when empty, by means of “camels,” over the shallows which
obstruct the navigation below the city. The water of this
river is unusually pure, light, and transparent, and is found
to be very wholesome ; but when used by strangers for the
first time it not unfrequently produces a slight derange¬
ment of the digestive organs. A chemical analysis of the
water, made by Hess, established the fact of its remarkable
purity, 1091b. giving only 47*2 grains of foreign ingredients.
Petersburg being far above any tidal influence, the de¬
structive inundations which from time to time have occurred
arise from the direction and long continuance of violent
winds, combined in some cases with the melting of the ice
in Lake Ladoga. Strong southerly gales, afterwards veer¬
ing to the S.W. and W., by driving a large body of water
up the gradually-narrowing bed of the Gulf of Finland, have
on many occasions raised the level of the water in the Neva
7, 9, 10, or more feet, causing it to overflow its banks, and
spread devastation and ruin over the low-lying quarters of the
city. Since the foundation of Petersburg, thirty-five consi¬
derable inundations have been recorded, the most violent and
disastrous having taken place on the 10th September 1777,
and 7th November 1824. On the former of these dates the
water rose to 10£ feet, and on the latter to 14 feet above
its ordinary level. The western quarters, or those lying
nearest the sea, suffer most from these calamities; those
quarters which lie farthest from the sea having never been
at all damaged. It is probable that these inundations will
become gradually less and less frequent, partly from the
silting up of the mouths of the river, and also partly from
the upheaval which the bed of the eastern portions of the
Baltic is gradually undergoing.
The Neva, from the rapidity of its current, would pro¬
bably never be frozen over but for the immense quantity
of ice floated down from the Ladoga, which, after covering
the river for a longer or shorter time in drifting masses, is
ultimately frozen into a solid mass, sometimes attaining, in
prolonged seasons of severe frost, a thickness of 3 or more
feet, and supplying the inhabitants with excellent sledge-
roads, as well as a large course for trotting matches, which
is annually erected in view of the Winter Palace. I he
surface, however, is usually at first very uneven, piesenting
huge blocks of ice of the most irregular and fantastic
shapes; and it is not till all the inequalities aie levelled by
a thick coating of snow, that a sledge, much less a skatei,
can make its way among its jagged edges.
The period at which the Neva is definitively frozen over
varies from the latter half of October to the first halt of
December: in general, however, it is covered with ice
about the middle of November. The ice remains without
breaking up in general to about the middle of April, though
there have been years when the opening of the river oc¬
curred as early as the 20th of March and as late as the
end of April, o.s. (*>., the 12th of May). I he mean
duration of the time during which the river remains covered
mav be said to be 146 days. There have been years—as
1816 when the river, after the breaking up of the ice, has
been again frozen over; but such events are rare. About
a week or a fortnight after the breaking up of the ice upon
the river itself, large masses of that which covered the lake
begin to come down ; and this lasts for a considerable time.
The processes of freezing and of breaking up of the ice are
of longer or shorter duration according to the state of the
weather; and while the ice is passing, the bridges of boats
bein<r necessarily removed, the only communication with the
opposite shore was formerly by means of small boats some¬
what resembling the caiques of the Bosphorus. Occasion¬
ally even this mode of transit was rendered impossible by
488
PETERSBURG.
Petersburg, the density of the floating stream ice, and then all commu-
nication whatever was interrupted for hours, and even in
some instances for a whole day. The completion, however,
of the handsome new bridge—of cast-iron, resting upon
granite piers—projected and terminated in the reign ol the
late emperor, has in some measure remedied this incon¬
venience ; but Petersburg is still very deficient in bridge
accommodation of a permanent character.
Independently of the arms or branches into which the
Neva divides, the city is intersected by a number of canals.
Of these, the most considerable is the Fontanka, which has
a general depth of 11 feet, and a breadth of about 180 feet,
admitting a multitude of the rude and cumbrous barges or
“ barks” which bring firewood, hay, grain, &c., fiom the
interior of the country. Watermen also ply for hire upon
these canals; and at short intervals large roofed and win¬
dowed barges are permanently moored, serving as floating
shops for the sale of fish, which are kept alive in boats
alongside sunk almost under water, and thus can be supplied
even in the severest winters. Besides the Fontanka, five
other canals might be mentioned, but they are all much
inferior to it both in depth of water and in breadth. They
for the most part follow a more or less curved direction,
communicating at both extremities with the Neva; and
thus all possess some degree of current, though generally
of a force insufficient to secure them from silting up, unless
periodically deepened by artificial means. They unques¬
tionably add much both to the beauty and the salubrity of
the town, though they are hardly rapid enough for perfect
drainage; and in the intense heats ot a Petersburg summer
the effluvia from them are sometimes disagreeable. They
are crossed by about 170 bridges, generally of stone piers
with a drawbridge, to allow the passage of vessels; but as
masted craft now never enter them, the latter arrangement
is x’apidly giving way to the use of iron, and several of
them are on the suspension principle. The number of
these canals, which in traversing the city in any direction
the traveller is perpetually crossing, gives to St Petersburg
an appearance quite original and characteristic, unlike that
of Venice, and no less dissimilar to that of the great cities
of Holland, but still very striking and remarkable. The
great feature of the canals is the interminable lines of ma¬
jestic granite quays with which these avenues are eveiy-
where lined and bordered, in nothing inferior to the noble
structures of the same kind with which the Neva is bound
in during so large a portion of its course within the city.
The water in the canals, from the sluggishness of the cur¬
rent, and the great amount of sewerage delivered into it
from the houses, is of no very inviting purity. All the
drinking-water of the inhabitants is supplied from the livei,
and is taken through the town in barrels placed upon
wheels and drawn by horses. The employment of the
steam-engine and high-pressure service-pipes has not jet
been generally adopted. _ _> .
For purposes of police and administration, Petersburg is
divided into thirteen quarters (tchast) as follows: Ihe
four Admiralty quarters, Liteinaia (Foundry), Moscow,
Narva, Karetnaia (Carriage), Rojestvenskaia, Vassileyskn
Island, Petersburg, Wyborg, and Okhta. Each of these
is subdivided into from three to six wards (kvartdl), with
the exception of the last, which has only two.
Of these it may be remarked that, generally speaking,
the four Admiralty quarters, and that of the Liteinaia, all
lying on the southern or left bank of the Neva, are more
particularly inhabited by the richer and fashionable classes,
and by the higher order of government officials, and are
the seat of the principal public buildings and most impos¬
ing monuments; while the Vassflievskii (Ostroff) is the
chief centre of commerce and of learning (containing the
exchange, the custom-house, the academies of arts and
sciences, and the university) ; and the Petersburg, and
still more the Wyborg quarters, must be looked upon Petersburg,
as the poorest and most remote districts. The various
branches of the Neva form a considerable number of islands,
some of which are covered with country houses and gar¬
dens, the summer residences of the higher classes. The
principal of these are the islands of Yelaghin (where there
is a summer palace of the emperor), Kamennii, Krestovskii,
Petrovskii, and Aptekarskii, or Apothecary Island, so called
from the botanic garden which has been established on
it. Most of these are laid out in a park-like manner; and
in summer, when their numerous fantastic villas are inha¬
bited, they present an animated and beautiful appearance.
The general disposition of the streets in the Admiralty
district of St Petersburg is monotonously symmetrical. The
central point is the enormous square, or “ place” (for it is
far from being a square), of St Isaac, on which stand the
Winter Palace, the Admiralty, the Senate, the cathe¬
dral of St Isaac, and other important monuments and pub¬
lic buildings. From this square, diverging like radii of
a circle, the centre of which is the chief entrance of the
Admiralty, crowned with a lofty gilded spire, visible from
every point of the city, run three great principal streets
or prospekts, forming a small angle with each other, and
extending, in perfectly straight lines, to a great dis¬
tance. Of these, the widest and handsomest in the town
is the famous Nevskii Prospect, not much less than 3
miles in length from its origin to its termination at the
monastery of St Alexander Nevskii; the next is the
Gorokhovaia(Pease Street); and the third the Voznessens-
kaia (Street of the Ascension), each about half the length
of the Nevskii, and large and busy thoroughfares, though
inferior to the first both in width and in the number and
splendour of the houses which line them. These three
main avenues are themselves traversed, nearly at right
angles, by a number of transverse streets, among the prin¬
cipal of which are the Great Morskaia, the Great Garden
Street (Sadovia), the Vladimirskaia, and others. All the
streets, with the exception of a few in the remoter and
poorer quarters, are paved with small stones; but some ot
the principal ones are laid down with wooden hexagon
blocks, as was tried some years back in London ; and pro¬
vided with flagged footways. The latter are in the Nevskii
of ample, and even almost superfluous width; but in the
more busy and less fashionable quarters they are much
cramped by frequent openings to steps leading downwards
to cellars and underground shops.
The Vassilievskii Ostroff, the next important quarter of
the town, is laid out with mathematical and almost fa¬
tiguing regularity. Running parallel with the Neva, and
with each other at equal distances, are three prospects, the
Great, Middle, and Little, and these are intersected at
exactly equal distances, and at right angles, by a great num¬
ber of streets called lines, known by their successive num¬
bers up to nearly thirty. The word “ line,” as here used,
indicates not the whole street, but only the row ot house?
forming one side of it; so that each street consists of two
<£ lines.” The roadway of all the streets, instead of, as in
England, forming a rounded surface, which is highest in the
middle, slopes downward from each side towards the centre,
which being the lowest part, forms a channel along which
the rain or melted snow is directed. The streets of the
city present in general a showy, and even grand appearance ;
the great height and immense size of the houses, and the uni¬
formity of their appearance,—the police regulations obliging
each proprietor to employ stucco or whitewash in which
only a moderate selection of tints is permitted;—all contri¬
bute to confirm the appropriateness of the title of “ City of
Palaces” which travellers have given to St Petersburg.
But after a short residence, the impression of magnificence
which this capital at first excites gives way to an over¬
powering feeling of monotony and artificial, or rather mili-
PETERSBURG.
Petersburg.tary formality and stiffness; and the “ City of Palaces”
seems gradually to have transformed itself into a city of
barracks. The eye and the imagination seek in vain for
that stamp of individuality, that atmosphere of national
character, which gives a kind of mingled strangeness and
homeliness to cities much inferior to St Petersburg in archi¬
tectural pretension, and which forms, so to speak, the pht/-
siognomy of a place. Here all seems obtrusively to assert
that the whole was a creation of yesterday, the effort of
single will ; and the stranger cannot refrain from feeling
that, as a mighty individual breath called up from the
swamps of Ingria this wondrous exhalation of artificial
magnificence, it might again pass into nothingness without
occasioning any void among the nations of Europe. The
total number of streets in Petersburg is rather above 450.
They are tolerably well lighted—the principal thorough¬
fares with gas, the others with lamps. For the protection
of the city and the preservation of order, Petersburg is
under the charge of a military and civil governor, and of
a grand master of police, who has under him the chiefs of
the quarters {tchdstnii prts(av), and their subordinates the
ward-officers (kvartdlnii), each of whom lias a certain fixed
extent of jurisdiction. In each quarter there is an office
for the transaction of police business, having among others
a bureau for the registration of passports, &c., a tribunal, a
lock-up house for criminals and disorderly persons, and a
station for firemen, who are all soldiers ; and indeed the
whole of the police are organized in military fashion, the
officials wearing the military uniform and enjoying military
rank. The police-station of every quarter is furnished
with a lofty tower, in which a sentinel is continually on the
look-out for the first indications of a fire. Signals are im¬
mediately given by a certain number of black balls by day,
or lanterns by night, hoisted on an iron frame, which
crowns the look-out tower ; and the point where the fire
has occurred being instantly communicated to all the sta¬
tions, a large number of men and engines are speedily on
the spot. By one of the curious half-oriental customs
which abound in this country, the emperor, when in Peters¬
burg, or at all events some member of the imperial family,
is almost invariably present at any fire that breaks out.
The corps of firemen consists of about 950 persons, with
52 engines, to which, in case of need, could be added a
large number of men and engines belonging to the regi¬
ments of the guard. At frequent intervals, generally at
the corners of the streets, are erected small wooden watch-
houses, called “ budkas,” at the door of which stands a sen¬
tinel, till lately armed with a species of halberd or battle-
axe. Of these erections there are altogether 310 in the
city, to each of which are attached three watchmen, who
relieve each other in mounting guard day and night. In
spite of the number of its functionaries and the elaborate¬
ness of its organization, the police of St Petersburg is one
of the worst and most inefficient in Europe ; and the rarity
of any important disturbance of public tranquillity is to be
attributed rather to the extreme docility of the national char¬
acter, than to the ability or intelligence of the police. The
salaries allotted by government being in most cases ludi¬
crously inadequate either to the securing of personal in¬
tegrity, or even to enable the various functionaries to main¬
tain tbe style of living which it is nevertheless expected
they will keep up, have rendered the Russian police noto¬
rious for corruption and dishonesty, and the bad reputation
of the body—bad even in a country where the plague-spot
of official peculation is so widely spread—has tended to
exclude from its ranks not only men of comparatively re¬
spectable position and education, but even all such as set
much store by the good opinion of society in general.
Petersburg is remarkable not only for the width and re¬
gularity of its streets, but for the number and occasionally
the enormous extent of its squares, a few of which have a
VOL. XVII.
489
central inclosure planted with trees, as in London, but the Petersburg,
greater number corresponds rather to the French “place,”
being properly squares neither in regularity of form nor in
possessing the ornament of gardens. Many of them are so
vast and empty as to destroy all impression of grandeur by
leaving no proportion between the height of the buildings
that surround them and the huge desert of their expanse.
The largest and most imposing of them all is the enormous
irregular space made up of the different squares respectively
styled those of the Winter Palace, bounded by that edifice,
the Etat-Major, and extending along one end of the palace
to the river ; of the Admiralty, giving off the Nevskii Pros¬
pect and the Gorokhovaia opposite tbe centre of the last-
named building; of St Isaac ; and of the Senate. Vast and
striking as are the numerous edifices which line various
parts of this great inclosure, they fail to produce their full
effect upon the eye, and they appear insignificant in com¬
parison with the extensive desert amid which they rise. Of
the other squares, the most important are the Sennaia, or
Haymarket, wdiich is the largest and best-frequented mart
for provisions, and where the frozen animals, skinned and
preserved whole, form in winter a spectacle so new and
curious to the stranger in Russia. The Champ de Mars,
as it is generally called, though its proper name is Tsaritzin
Lug, is a vast and very beautiful inclosure for the parading
of troops, and is rendered more attractive to the eye by
being bounded on two sides by the lofty trees of the sum¬
mer garden, and the grounds of the palace of the late Grand
Duke Michael. What adds to the beauty of this parade-
ground is its being close to the Marble Palace, the Place
of Suvoroff'(where is a bronze statue of that distinguished
general), the handsome barracks of the Pavlovskii regiment,
and the castle of St Michael. The two squares which most
accurately correspond to the idea conveyed to an English¬
man by that term are those in front of the Alexandra
Theatre, and of the principal facade of the Michael palace.
We may also mention the RumiantzoflP square on the Vassi-
lievskii Ostroff, adorned by an obelisk dedicated to the
memory of that marshal; the square in which stand the
great theatre and the new circus (a very graceful and in¬
geniously-planned building) ; and the numerous extensive
parade-grounds in different parts of the town, generally in
the immediate vicinity of the barracks ol those regiments
for whose use they are designed. Among these, the most
important are the exercising-grounds of the Preobrajenskii
regiment (470 by 350 yards), of the Semeonovskii (700 by
470 yards), and of the Izmailovskii regiment, of dimensions
hardly inferior. The Champ de Mars, of which we have
already noticed the position, is a rectangle of 525 yards in
length’ by 290 in width ; and here take place, particularly
on the 1st May, those great parades of the guard in which
as many as 60,000 troops, of all arms, are sometimes as¬
sembled in one evolution. At the barrier on the Narva and
Moscow roads are erected very imposing triumphal arches,
the former to commemorate the exploits of the Russian
guard during its campaigns against the French, and the
second in celebration of the services of the Russian tioops
in Persia, Turkey, and in the pacification of Poland duiing
the reign of the late emperor. . .
The general proportion of brick to wooden dwellings in
St Petersburg is as 3 to 5; but this ratio varies exceed¬
ingly in the different quarteis, in the wealthier being
as high as 4 to 3, while in one of the poorer and more
remote districts there is only one brick house to 23
wooden dwellings. Generally, also, the size of the houses,
and consequently the average number of inhabitants to a
house, increases in a direct ratio to the opulence of the par¬
ticular quarter we may be examining: thus the highest
average number of dwellers under one roof is found in the
three first Admiralty quarters, the most fashionable por¬
tion of the city, where the ratio varies from 115 to 150, and
490
PETERSBURG.
Petersburg, even as high as 200 individuals to a single house. Many
v'—-' of these residences are therefore of very great extent; and
they are generally built round one or even several court¬
yards, with a carriage-entrance, or porte-cochere, from the
street, and a multitude of staircases, similar to the arrange¬
ment of the inns of court in London, leading to the various
apartments. It is consequently very rare to find a single
family occupying a whole house ; and it is only a few
great aristocratic families of unusual wealth whose means
enable them to monopolize an entire dwelling. By far the
greater number of persons in the upper and richer classes
of society rent lodgings or “ apartments,” as they are called
by the French, of a "style and extent commensurate with
their means. These are generally all on one floor, or
“flat;” and the rooms being generally en JUade, axe at
once showy on ceremonial occasions and sufficiently conveni¬
ent in ordinary life. The kitchen and other offices are for
the most part on the same floor. Stables and coach-houses
are in most cases constructed in the lower storey of the
house, opening on the interior court-yard. Shops are com¬
mon enough even in the largest and most splendid houses ;
and it is only in comparatively few instances that the pro¬
prietor refuses to allow a shop to be established even in a
dwelling which has in other respects almost the aspect of a
palace. The rooms are almost universally heated by large
stoves of white earthenware tiles, or cast-iron painted to
imitate marble. The fuel is wood; though an increasing
taste for the use of the English grate, and the gradually-
growing adoption of coal, together with the increasing^
dearness of firewood, seems to indicate that in course of
time the latter combustible will come into general use.
Russia possesses extensive deposits of coal; but the great
expense of transport renders it much cheaper to purchase
English coal, which is generally imported by ships coming
out in ballast.
The number of churches in St Petersburg is 196 ; of
which the Russian-Greek faith has 54 parish churches, 118
domestic chapels, and 2 monasteries. There are also 15
Lutheran places of worship, 6 Roman Catholic, and 1 Ar-
minian. The British factory in Petersburg maintains a
handsome and well-frequented chapel of the Church of
England ; and there is a small congregation of Dissenters
connected with the United States mission.
The Russian churches in general never fail powerfully
to attract the attention of the stranger by their striking
though barbarous architecture, the style being mostly an
attempt to reconcile the corrupt Byzantine forms with the
details of more classical models. They have uniformly an
assemblage ot five domes or cupolas a large one in the^
centre, surrounded by four smaller ones ; these poitions of
the edifice being in most cases gilded, and glittering in the
sun. The tall and not ungraceful campanile, or bell-tower,
is usually, as in Italy, detached altogether from the. main,
body of the edifice. The most curious and interesting of
the religious edifices of St Petersburg is the monasteiy of
St Alexander Nevskii, considered the third in rank among
the numerous lauras of the Russian empire. Its supeiior
is the metropolitan or archbishop of St Petersburg and
Novgorod, one of the three highest prelates, the othei two
presiding over the dioceses of Moscow and Kieff. It. is
dedicated to the saint whose name it bears, and whose relics
are deposited in a rich shrine of silver. Here are intened
many members of the imperial house, as well as several
persons illustrious for their genius or services ; as Suvoroff,
the historian Karamzin, and the poets Kruiloff and Zu-
kovskii. The buildings are of great extent; and the con¬
ventual precinct, surrounded by a wall, contains a cathedral
and five other churches, the residence of the metropolitan,
and the cells of the monks, together with the theological
academy, a seminary, and the consistory. Divine service
is performed here with great magnificence, and the choir
(whose voices in the Russian churches are not assisted by Petersburg,
any instrumental accompaniment) is celebrated for its per-
fection.
The cathedral of St Peter and St Paul, in the fortress, on
an island on the north side of the Neva, is surmounted by
a slender gilt spire 360 feet in height, which forms a con¬
spicuous object visible from almost every point in and near
the city. In it may be seen the tombs of the more recent
sovereigns of Russia, together with many7 trophies won by
Russian valour,—as the key's of \\ arsaw deliveiedto Suvo-
roff in 1794, and the colours of the Capudan pasha’s flag¬
ship, taken in 1770, and deposited by Catherine II. with
her own hand at the foot of the tomb of Peter the Great.
Not far from the fortress, on the banks of the Neva, is
carefully preserved the small one-storied wooden cottage
inhabited by Peter the Great, in which may be seen his
boat, turning-lathe, many articles of dress worn by him, and
a multitude°of objects exhibiting his remarkable skill as a
turner, joiner, and carpenter. Near this is the curious
little wooden church of the Trinity, first constiucted by
Peter in 1703, in memory of the foundation of the city.
The cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan was erected in
memory of the defeat of Napoleon in 1812. It stands on
the Nevskii Perspective, and is a clumsy and ungraceful
imitation of St Peter’s at Rome, consisting of a central
building approached in front by a simicircular colonnade,
before the extremities of which stand bronze colossal statues
of Barclay de Tolly and Kutuzoff. The interior is of great
magnificence, the ikonastds or screen in front of the high
altar being composed of silver (4000 lb. weight) ^covered
by the Don Kazaks from the French troops, who had
plundered it in 1812 from the various churches of Moscow.
But the most precious ornament of this cathedral, in the
opinion of the superstitious Russian, is the so-called mii a-
lous image (picture) of the holy virgin of Kazan. The
walls are hung with trophies and colours taken from the
French in the course of that important campaign, and with
the kevs of fortresses occupied by the Russian troops in the
years 1812, 1813, and 1814. Among these reposes also
the dust of Kutuzoff, who so powerfully contributed to the
triumphs of that great national struggle. But the largest
and most splendid of the sacred edifices is unquestionably
the cathedral of St Isaac of Dalmatia, begun in 1818 and
consecrated with great ceremony May 30, 1858. It stands on
the Admiralty Square, and is, like all churches of the Giee
denomination, in the form of an equal-limbed cross, the
centre surmounted by a dome round which four sma er
cupolas are disposed at the angles. It is built of granite,
highly polished, and the four faces are furnished with as
many porticos resting upon gigantic columns of the same
stone, the shaft of each being in a single piece. 1 he pedi¬
ments and the drum of the great dome are richly adorned
with bas-reliefs in bronze, colossal statues of angels, &c. &c.
This edifice is among the very largest cathedrals of Eu¬
rope ; and its height to the summit of the cross is .317 feet.
Nor is it less remarkable for solidity of construction, high
finish, and beauty of materials, than for its colossal dimen¬
sions or richness of decoration. It is, however, to be le-
gretted that the general appearance is heavy and ungrace¬
ful ; the different masses are ponderous without dignity,
and vast without grandeur; and it is perhaps only the
splendid effect of the gilding of the dome and surrounding
cupolas that saves the general aspect from being sombre
and unmeaning. Nothing can exceed the magnificence of
the interior. Enormous columns, entirely incrusted with
the most costly malachite, gold, silver, and precious stones,
are employed everywhere with the most dazzling prodigality.
Many distinguished artists, both Russian and foreign, as
Neff and Bruni, have executed frescoes of great size, with
which the interior of the dome is profusely decorated ; and
the general impression of the work—though of course not
PETER
Petersburg, to be compared for architectural grandeur either to St
Peter’s at Rome or St Paul’s in London—is unquestionably
one of overwhelming magnificence. The construction of
this vast and costly edifice was entrusted to a French archi¬
tect, M. Montferrant, who was fortunate enough to survive
to witness the consecration of the cathedral in 1858, but
wdio died a few days after the ceremony. Among the other
ecclesiastical edifices may be mentioned the beautiful church
of the convent of Smolnoi, constructed by the celebrated
Rastrelli; the church of St Nicholas Morskoi, both remark¬
able for their graceful proportions; and the church of the
IzmailofF regiment, deserving of notice for its vast dimensions.
St Petersburg, a city of comparatively recent existence,
cannot be expected to possess a very great number of
monuments, but those that do exist will stand comparison
with the most majestic objects of which any modern
capital can boast. The chief are the colossal equestrian
bronze statue of Peter the Great erected by Catherine II.,
and the granite monolithic column raised in memory of
Alexander I. Both these monuments stand, in admirable
sites, on the Isaac Place,—the former in front of the new
cathedral, and between the facade of the Senate-House and
the western wing of the Admiralty; and the latter on the
space between the front of the Winter Palace and the semi¬
circle formed by the immense building of the Etat Major.
The statue is of colossal dimensions, representing the creator
of Petersburg in the act of curbing his rearing steed on the
very summit of an enormous block of granite which serves
as a pedestal, and stretching out his right hand with gesture
indicative of sovereign power. The hind legs of the horse
are trampling upon a serpent,—the emblem of the igno¬
rance and barbarism over which the hero triumphed in his
great work of regenerating an empire; and the reptile, to¬
gether with the flowing tail of the quadruped, are most
ingeniously contrived to add to the equilibrium and stability
of the group. The pedestal is a real boulder, brought with
immense difficulty from Finland, and on which the emperor
is related to have actually stood during his life; and if the
I stone had been left entirely in its natural state, the work,
whether for sublimity or originality, would have left nothing
to be desired. Unfortunately, however, it was thought
necessary to dress and cut away a considerable portion'of
the front of the block, so as to give more abruptness to the
supposed precipice; but the effect has been to deteriorate
very much the grand simplicity of the whole. The inscrip¬
tion consists merely of the following words in Latin on one
side of the pedestal, and in Russian on the other:—Petro :
Primo : Catharina : Secvnda.
The Alexander column is, we believe, the largest mono¬
lithic shaft in the world; it is, altogether, with the bronze
pedestal on which it stands, 155 feet in height, of dark
granite brought from Finland, and the capital is surmounted
by a bronze figure of an angel supporting and pointing to
a cross. The latter portion is of no great beauty or signi¬
ficance, nor indeed are the bas-reliefs which ornament the
base ; but the effect of the simple shaft of stone, unbroken
by fluting or any other decoration, is majestic in the highest
degree. The diameter of the shaft at the base is 14 feet,
and the length of the shaft or monolith itself, 84 feet.
Of the numerous palaces in Petersburg, occupied by vari¬
ous members of the imperial family, the most extensive and
splendid is indubitably the Winter Palace, which, with the
Hermitage, to which it is united by a bridge over a canal
and a series of galleries, forms an uninterrupted line of
buildings extending along the Neva for a distance of above
a third of an English mile. The Winter Palace is the
actual residence of the emperor, and the present edifice
was entirely rebuilt after a fire which destroyed the former
building on the same spot in 1838. The general style of
the architecture is Italian, and three sides being situated
on large open spaces,—the river and its quay, the parade-
SBURG. 491
ground, and the great square on which the Alexander Petersburg,
column stands,—presents an imposing effect from many
points. The principal apartments are of great magnifi¬
cence; the hall of St George, the famous “Salle Blanche,”
the hall of the marshals, the Great chapel, &c., are of noble
proportions ; the former, at least, adorned with numerous
pictures, representing the triumphs of Russian arms by sea
and land, and portraits of the sovereigns and illustrious
warriors of the empire. Here, too, the stranger is struck by
the modest little cabinet in which the Emperor Nicholas
passed the working hours of his indefatigable life, the simple
and scanty furniture, and the plain iron camp-bed on which
he slept and on which he died, covered by the gray mili¬
tary cloak that he always wore. But by far the most inter¬
esting portion of the palace is the Llermitage, originally
erected by Catherine II. as a place of retreat from the
wearisome ceremonial of royalty. This building, to which
considerable additions were made by the late emperor, is
now transformed into one of the most magnificent museums
of art in Europe; and the new buildings, by the skilful
manner in which they are lighted, and the indescribable
splendour of their fittings-up,—the floors being of the
richest parquet-work, and the ceilings (of iron to diminish
the danger of fire) most magnificently painted and gilded,
form a casket in every way worthy of the treasures they
contain. The paintings are arranged in schools; and the
gallery is eminently rich in various departments of art.
The old pre-Raphaelite painters are well-represented; there
are capital works, in the finest condition, of Salvator Rosa,
and indeed of all the great Italian masters, with the excep¬
tion of Raphael himself, and a multitude of works equally
valuable for their intrinsic merit and for the light they
throw on the history of art. The Spanish subdivision
abounds also in chefs-d’oeuvre: the famous “Christ with
the Lamb,” and the equally famous “ Ascension of the
Virgin” of Murillo, together with many interesting though
less splendid works of that great painter; a number of most
admirable examples of Velasquez, among which may be
noticed the two incomparable full-length portraits of Philip
II. and Olivarez, together with the finished studies of the
heads of the same works, and a crowd of other productions
of high interest. Many of these pictures were obtained
from the Soult collection. Vandyck is also richly repre¬
sented, as a very large portion of the Houghton gallery
was purchased by the court of Russia. I he German,
Dutch, and Flemish schools may be studied here with
extraordinary success ; the collection of Rembrandt alone
filling one large hall almost entirely; while the finest woiks
of Teniers, Douw, Wouvermans, Van Ostade, Paul Potter,
Terburg, Mieris, not to mention the great landscape-paint¬
ers—as Berghem, and above all, Ruysdael cover the
walls with a truly imperial profusion. Besides these trea¬
sures of painting, the Hermitage now contains a collection
of coins and medals, recently augmented by the acquisition
of the famous cabinet formed by the late M. Reichel, which
for the rarity and beauty of its pieces and the completeness
of its historical series, is perhaps without a superior in
Europe. An account of the curiosities preserved in the
Hermitage would be imperfect without at least a passing
mention “of the portrait-gallery of the Russian sovereigns,
as well as of a very singular collection of objects belonging
to or connected with Peter the Great, exemplifying his
skill in works of mechanical dexterity.
Many of the educational establishments of St Peters¬
burg excite the surprise of the stranger, from the enormous
scale on which they are maintained, as well as —to the
honour of the government be it said—for the liberality with
which they are administered. The Foundling Hospital,
now rather a school for poor children than a receptacle for
infants abandoned by their parents, is one of the largest esta¬
blishments in Europe. The convent of Smolnoi, devoted
492
PET
PET
Petersburg, to the education of young ladies of the noble and middle
v ^ -m-i classes of society, is maintained in a great measure at
the expense of the state. The special military schools,
or cadet-corps, are also of extraordinary extent,. some
being devoted to particular branches of the service, as
the artillery, the engineer department, roads and commu¬
nications, mining (for everything in Russia is organized
more or less on a military footing) the naval service, &c.
&c. Of institutions of a purely civil nature and of the
higher order, we may specify the university (now, 1858,
numbering about 800 students), the law college, the Alex¬
ander Lyceum (the two latter devoted to the education or
boys of the higher class, and together containing 400 pupils),
5 gymnasia (intended principally as preparatory to the uni¬
versity course, and numbering about 1250 scholars). In all
these, as well as in the more special military schools, the
pupils, and even the professors on ceremonial occasions,
wear a military uniform, with the sword and coclad hat;,
though in the civil establishments, drilling and the use ol
arms do not form an indispensable part ol the education.
The hospitals of St Petersburg are numerous and toler¬
ably well administered ; some of them are supported by the
crown, and others founded by private charity, and devoted
re particular classes of suffering humanity. 1 he Academy
of Medicine gives regular instruction to 450 students, who,
after receiving a medical education at the expense of the
state, are in some cases obliged to serve for a certain period
in the interior and with the troops.
Among the more prominent scientific and literary insti-.
tutions are the Academy of the Fine Arts, the Academy of
Sciences, and in particular the Imperial Public Library,
which contains upwards of 450,000 volumes of printed
books, and more than 20,000 MSS., many of them of great
rarity, particularly an immense number ot autographs of
illustrious persons, and works relating to oriental literatuie.
This library has recently undergone great reforms in its
administration, and is, like almost all collections, museums,
&c., in Russia, opened to the public with great liberality.
The manufactures of St Petersburg are numerous and
extensive. Some of them are carried on by the govern¬
ment, but the majority are in the hands of private indivi¬
duals. Among the former are manufactories of gunpowder,
tapestry, plate-glass and porcelain, and a cannon foundry.
Of the other manufactures the principal are silk, cotton,
and woollen goods, sailcloth, leather, glass, jewellery, paper,
tobacco, mathematical and surgical instruments, &c.
The following table gives the movement of shipping at the port of
St Petersburg during the last five years, together with the declared
value of exports and imports, and the amount of the customs-duties
collected during that time :—
249,123 lb.; silk goods, 161.844 lb.
Ships. iTonnage
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1,921 357,548
17 3,490
3,374 519,710
Imports.
L.
11,173,739
3,827.080
2,485,525
10,766,949
2,723j 456,464 13,899,404
Exports.
Customs from
Imports. Exports. I Bridges.
L. L.
124.2221 37,377
6,736 20,287
L. I L.
8,327,471' 1,908,915
1,498.543. 1,023,573! ,
451,205! 523,564 I 10,187
8,586,7751 1,384.2541 13,288) 26,602
9,660,839^ 1,901,526 133,539j 37,828
The principal countries trading with St Petersburg, with t e
numbers of vessels belonging to each, in 1857 were England, 902
(tonnage 209,352) ; Holland, 549 ; Denmark, 212 ; Sweden, loO ,
Prussia, 141 ; Hanover, 139 ; Russia, 130; France, 128 ; Lubeck,
92 ; Norway, 90 ; Oldenburg, 62 ; America, 43 ; Naples, 35 ; Meck¬
lenburg, 28; Bremen, 11 ; Hamburg, 7 ; Belgium, 2; Portugal, 2.
Of the total number of vessels, 478 were steamers ; and of these, 171
were English. The princi|)al articles of import in 1857 were gold
and silver, L.488,773 ; sugar, 65,979,307 lb.; coffee, 6,716,676 lb.;
tobacco, 2,163,494 lb. ; wine in cask, 13,240,597 lb.; ditto in
bottles, 978,794 ; olive oil, 13,256,739 lb.; dye-stuffs, 42,848,450 lb.;
salt, 20,872,357 lb. ; coal, 23,351 tons; raw cotton, 65,413,914 lb.;
cotton yarn, 10,481,324 lb.; silk, raw and spun, 144,222 lb.; wool,
spun, 2,394,454 lb. ; cotton goods, 947,417 lb. ; flaxen goods,
 o woollen goods, 525,147 ff>. Petersburg
The chief articles of export during the same year were—gold and v '
silver, L.167,414 ; hemp, 56,869,697 1b.; potash, 21,857,816 lb.;
tallow, 97,228,918 lb.; raw hides, 6,034,558 1b.; Russian leather,
894,010 lb. ; iron, 13,618,922 lb.; copper, 5,576,106 lb.; bristles,
2,503,289 lb. ; cordage, 15,311,4701b.; linen, 42,350 pieces; grain,
8,817,864 bushels.
The population of the city, according to the census of 18o6, was
490,808. The proportion of males to females is as two to one,
arising from the great number of soldiers (principally the guard,
which alone amounts to about 60,000 men) permanently stationed
in and about St Petersburg, and the large population of peasants
and workmen who come from the interior for a time, and return
to their families after a longer or a shorter absence. The peasants,
workmen, servants, and soldiers together constitute about three-
fifths of the whole population; the nobles and employes about
44,000, the foreigners 16,000, the merchants 12,500, and the clergy
2500 The nobility form therefore about one-tenth of the total
population ; and it may be calculated that to every noble there
are rather more than three servants. (t. b. S.)
Petersburg, St, a government of European Russia,
lying between N. Lat. 58. and 60. 30.; and between E.
Long. 27. 30. and 33. 30., bounded on the N. by the
gulf and archduchy of Finland and by Lake Ladoga,
E. by the government of Novgorod, 8. by that of Pskov,
and W. by Lake Peipus and the government of Esthonia.
Length from N.E. to S.W., 265 miles ; breadth, about 90
‘miles: area, 20,749 square miles. _ The surface is almost
entirely level, and a great part oi it is occupied with lakes
and morasses. From a branch of the Valdai Hills, which
occupies the S. of the government, the country slopes
gradually downwards towards the N.W., and in this direc¬
tion most of the rivers flow. 1 he chief ol these are the
Neva, flowing from Lake Ladoga to the Gulf of Finland ;
the Luga, which crosses the country from S.E. to N.W.;
the Pliussa, flowing northwards, and falling into the Gulf of
Finland near the mouth ol the Luga; and the Volchov,
bv which the waters of Lake Ilmen in Novgorod are con¬
veyed to Lake Ladoga. Besides the large lakes ol Ladoga,
Peipus, and Pskov, which lie on the frontiers of the go¬
vernment, there are many others ot a smaller size in the
interior. The soil is sandy, and the climate cold, moist,
and unfavourable to agriculture. . The forests of the go¬
vernment are of great extent, but carelessly managed.
St Petersburg contained in 1849, 1,466,931 acres ot ai able
land, 473.969 of meadows, 7,405,114 of wood, and 3,781,156
of waste land. In the same year the government produced
9,465,522 bushels of corn, and 1,463,278 of potatoes; and
it possessed 118,849 horses, 183, <83 horned cattle, 51,649
sheep, 20,666 swine, and 1075 goats. Rye, barley, oats,
and wheat are the principal crops raised, but the produce
of corn falls short of the demands of the people. Flax
and hemp are also cultivated ; and there are many kitchen
gardens for the supply of the capital. Poultry of various
kinds are kept, and fish are by no means scarce. The
chief wealth of the country, however, depends on its
timber, which forms an important article of export. Granite,
limestone, marl, clay, and other minerals, are obtained in
the government. Manufacturing industry is in a flourish¬
ing condition in St Petersburg; but this, as well as the
commerce of the country, is for the most part confined to
the capital. The government contained in 1849, 463 manu¬
factories, employing 23,963 hands. Ot the manufactories,
the most important were 50 of tobacco, 47 of machines and
hardware, 34 of silk, 23 of sugar, 27 of cotton cloth, 13 of
woollen fabrics, 19 of glass and crystal, 15 of chemical sub¬
stances, and 20 of leather. For the purposes of education
the country belongs to the circle of St Petersburg, and
contained in 1854, besides gymnasia and other superior
institutions, 39 village schools, with 1220 scholars. I he
prevailing religion is that of the Greek Church ; but theie
are 130,205 Protestants, 27.239 Roman Catholics, and a
few Armenians, Mohammedans, and Jews among the popu¬
lation. In respect of race, the bulk of the people are
PET
PET
493
Petersburg Russians, though there are also in the country many Ger-
|] mans, Finns, and others. For administrative purposes it is
Peterwar- divided into 8 circles, and except the capital, it has no town
deiru ] of any importance. Pop. (1851) 566,409.
Petersburg, a town and port of the United States of
North America, state of Virginia, on the right bank ot
the Appomattox, 10 miles above its confluence with the
James river, and 22 S. of Richmond. It is handsomely
built, principally of brick, and is a place of much commer¬
cial importance, being, in respect, to size, the third town in
the state. Among the public edifices are a court-house ; a
jail; eight churches, belonging to Presbyterians, Metho¬
dists, Episcopalians, Baptists, and Roman Catholics ; and
three banks. The manufacturing establishments are several
cotton and one woollen factory, two rope-walks, an iron
furnace, six forges, and several mills. A great amount of
water-power for these works is furnished by the falls of the
river just above the town. A canal has been made round
the falls, by means of which small boats are enabled to
ascend for about 100 miles higher. Vessels of 100 tons
burden come up to the town, and those of a larger size
discharge their cargoes at City Point, the point of con¬
fluence of the Appomattox and the James, whence there
is a railway to Petersburg. The aggregate tonnage of the
vessels registered at the port, June 30, 1852, was 484; of
those enrolled and licensed, 2110. In that year there
entered 16 vessels, tonnage 10,147; and there cleared 10,
tonnage 5102. The principal exports are flour and to¬
bacco, in large quantities. A great fire took place here in
1815, when nearly 400 houses were destroyed. Pop. (1850)
14,010, (1853) about 15,000.
PETERSFIELD, a parliamentary borough and market-
town of England, county of Hants, stands near the Loddon,
18 miles E. by S. of Winchester, and 15 N.N.E. of Ports¬
mouth. Though small, it is clean and neat, and the main
street crosses nearly at right angles the London and Ports¬
mouth road. The parish church is a large and ancient
brick edifice, with fine Norman arches, and a low square
tower. Petersfield has a town-hall, and a handsome statue
of William III. on horseback. Churcher’s College, an
endowed charity school, founded in 1722, affords board,
clothing, and education to twelve boys. There is also a li¬
brary, a reading-room, and a savings-bank. A county court
is held here. Besides weekly markets, there are two an¬
nual fairs for cattle and sheep. Petersfield never had any
extensive trade, and what little it possessed was chiefly
derived from its position on the London and Portsmouth
road; but of even this advantage it has been deprived, by
the construction of the railway between these places. The
borough now returns only one member to Parliament; but
previous to the passing of the Reform Act it sent two.
Pop. (1851) 5550.
PETERS WALD A U, a town of Prussia, province of
Silesia, government of Breslau, and 32 miles S.W. of that
town. It consists of four parts—Royal, Middle, Lower,
and Upper Peterswaldau. Of these the second is the
largest, and contains a fine castle, one Roman Catholic,
and two Protestant churches. It is a considerable manu¬
facturing town, having tile-works, saw and other mills.
Pop. of town, 6480, among whom are many Moravians.
PETERWARDEIN, or Petervar, a frontier town of
Austria, capital of the Servian Military Frontier, stands on
a promontory on the right bank of the Danube, which is
here crossed by a bridge of boats, leading to Neusatz on.
the opposite side, 45 miles N.W. of Belgrade. It is one of
the strongest places in the empire both by nature and art,
as it occupies a high escarped rock, washed on three sides
by the river, and has two fortresses, the one on the top ot
the rock, and the other, which incloses the town proper,
on a gentle slope to the north. It presents a formidable ap-
oearance both from the river and the land, on account of the
Petion.
walls, pierced with port-holes, and the tiers of turf-covered Petherton
bastions by which it is defended. The town, which consists 11
of one main street, with two others parallel to it, contains
an arsenal with many Turkish trophies, the parish church '
of St George, which has several interesting tombs, and
other buildings. The lower fortress has large moats, which
can be filled with water from the Danube. Peterwardein
is said to derive its name from Peter the Hermit, who
marshalled here the army of the First Crusade. The gar¬
rison amounts to about 3000 men, though it is capable of
being: augmented to 10,000. Pop. (exclusive of garrison),
about 5000.
PETHERTON, North, a town of England, in the
county of Somerset, 7 miles N.E. of Taunton. It has one
long street, and a large market-place. The parish church
is a fine building, with a lofty tower. There is also a
chapel of ease, and an endowed school for 20 boys. The
people are for the most part employed in farming and retail
trade. Though the market formerly held here is now dis¬
continued, there are still two annual fairs. Pop. (1851) 3845.
Petherton, South, a market-town and parish of Eng¬
land, in the county of Somerset, 14 miles S.S.E. of Taun¬
ton. The church is large and elegant, in the form of a
cross, and there are several Dissenting chapels. Sail¬
cloth and kid gloves are made here in small quantities.
Pop. (1851) 2606.
PETHORA GURH, a military cantonment of British
India, district of Kumaon, N.W. Provinces, about 10 miles
from the right bank of the Kali, and 1200 N.W. ot Cal¬
cutta. N. Lat. 29. 35., E. Lon. 80. 16. Attached to the
cantonment is a bazaar and a large stone hospital, roofed
with slates; and the whole place is commanded by Fort
Loudoun, a hundred yards to the west.
PfiTION DE VILLENEUVE, Jerome, a leader
of the French Revolution, was born at Chartres about
1753, and practised for some time at the bar. His first
appearance on the stage of politics was in the character ol
deputy from the commons of his native town to the Estates-
General in 1789. He then showed himself to be well,
fitted to walk circumspectly among the besetting perils oi
those troublous times. His political creed was liberal and
settled, his disposition phlegmatic, his appearance impos¬
ing, and his elocution ready. Accordingly, in all the high
and critical offices to which he was called during the Re¬
volution, his character was notable for its cool consistency.
As president of the National Assembly and of the Ciiminal
Tribunal, he acted in such a straightforward manner that
he acquired the surname of “the Virtuous. When he
was sent to conduct the royal family home from their ar¬
rested flight, this want, of respect of persons was carried
even to an extreme. He “ ate his luncheon comfortably
filled his wine-glass in the royal Berime, flung out his
chicken-bones past the nose of royalty itself;, and on the
king’s saying, ‘France cannot be a republic, answered,
‘No it is not ripe vet.’” Nor did his coolness forsake
him during 1791 and 'l792, when, in the capacity of mayor
of Paris, Tt was his duty to guard the safety of the city.
Raised aloft on the shoulders of two grenadiers, he quieted
and dispersed the insurrectionary populace on the famous
90fh of June. Mingling also with the bloodthirsty mob,
he tried, with “ the austere language of the law,” to check
the reckless massacres of September. At length, however,
the dangers which Petion had with stoical countenance
outfaced so long, became too pressing for him. The pro¬
scription of his party by the Jacobins on the 31st May
1793 drove him and ten of his fellow Girondins to escape
for their lives. As the eleven skulked through the country
towards Bourdeaux, their enemies beset them at every
turn of the road. At last the ever-thickening perils com¬
pelled them to separate, and hide their heads wherever
thev could. On a July morning of 1794, the dead body
494
PET
Petis de
la Croix
II
Petit.
of Petion, along with that of Buzot, was found in a corn¬
field near Bourdeaux half-eaten by wolves. (See Carlyle’s
French Revolution; and Biographic Universelle.)
PETIS DE LA CROIX, Francois, a great
oriental scholar, was the son of Francois Petis, the French
king’s interpreter for the Oriental languages, and was born
in Paris in 1653. His education was conducted with the
view of fitting him for succeeding his father. He was
first instructed in mathematics, astronomy, geography, de¬
sign, and the eastern languages. Then the famous minis¬
ter Colbert despatched him, when only sixteen, to com¬
plete his education in the East. He sojourned for three
years and a half at Aleppo, familiarizing himself with the
language and literature of the Arabs. The next two yeais
were spent at Ispahan in the study of the Persian dialects,
politics, arts, and sciences. He wound up this long and
thorough course of training by applying himself tor tour
years at Constantinople to the language and diplomacy ot
the Turks. Soon after his return to France in 1680, Petis
entered upon a new career as secretary-interpreter to the
marine. In this capacity his aid was employed in all the
negotiations which France at that time transacted with the
Eastern courts. He was engaged in forming treaties with
Aimers in 1684, with Tunis and Tripoli in 1685, and with
Morocco in 1687. The closing, like the opening part of
Petis’ career, was devoted to linguistic pursuits. He began
to officiate as Arabic professor to the College Royal in
1692, and as Oriental interpreter to the king in 1695. At
the same time his pen was actively employed in connection
with his favourite studies. He published Histoire de la
Sultane de Perse et des Vizirs, a translation from Sheikh
Zadeh, in 12mo, 1707; and Les Mille et Un Jours, o.
translation from the Persian, in 5 vols. 12mo, Paris, 1 710—12.
Another translation, entitled Histoire de Fimur Bee, in 4
vols. l2mo, appeared in 1722, nine years after his death.
He also left behind him in manuscript several works on
history, geography, and the Oriental languages, a hat of
which is given in Goujet’s Memoire sur le College Royal.
(See Biographic Universelle})
PETIT, Jean-Louis, an eminent French surgeon, was
born in Paris in March 1674. His love for his favourite
science was early in action. When a mere child he began
of his own accord to attend the lectures of Littre, the
anatomical professor; not long afterwards he was sur¬
prised one day in a granary in the act of dissecting a rab¬
bit ; and at the age of twelve he had made such pro¬
gress in his class, that he was entrusted with the care of the
anatomical theatre. This precocious boyhood was the pre¬
lude to a manhood of great professional eminence. A tei
practising for eight years with marked ability in the army,
he returned to Paris in 1700, and took a high position
as a promoter of surgical science. His Traite sur les
Maladies des Os, published in 1705, originated a new
branch of pathology. His appointment to the office ot
lecturer in the School of Surgery in 1724, and to the direc¬
torship of the Royal Academy of Surgery in 1 731, inaugu¬
rated and established a new system of chirurgical instruc¬
tion. His numerous pupils, also, carried his pnncip es to
the most remote countries. He died in 1750, the most
famous surgeon in Europe. An extensive work on sur¬
gery, which Petit left unfinished, was completed and pub¬
lished bv Dr Lesne, under the title of Traite sur les Mala¬
dies Chirurgicales, Paris, 17/4. His other productions
are contained in the Memoirs of the Academy of Surgery,
and in those of the Academy of Sciences.
Petit, Pierre, a French mathematician, was born at
Montlucon in 1594, and removed from his native place to
Paris in 1633. His apitude for the exact sciences soon
opened up for him a career of distinction. The French
government employed him to inspect the seaports of France
arid Italy, and appointed him provincial commissary of ar-
P E T
tillery and intendant-general of fortifications. Several
scientific works in the meanwhile proceeded from his pen,
and increased his reputation as a man ot learning. He was
also honoured to take part in the celebrated discussions ^
touching the “ Dioptrics” of Descartes, and to assist Pas¬
cal in making experiments on the phenomena of the com¬
mon pump. The death of Petit took place at Lagny, on
the Marne, in 1677. The following is a list of the most
important works of Petit: L’Usage du Compas de Pro¬
portion, %vo,Vsx\s, 1634; Observations touehant le Vide,
4to, Paris, 1647 ; Dissertation sur la Nature des Comeles,
4tol Paris, 1665 ; and Dissertation sur la Nature du Chaud
et du Froid, 12mo, Paris, 1671.
PETIT-CANAL, a town of the island ot Guadaloupe,
on a bay of the same name on the W. coast, about 9 miles
N.E. of St Louis. Sugar is exported in great quantities ;
and in the surrounding country large herds of cattle are
fed. A large proportion of the inhabitants are slaves. Pop.
7600.
PETITIO PRINCIPII. See Fallacy.
PETIT OT, Jean, a great improver of the art of paint¬
ing in enamel, was the son of a sculptor and architect, and
was born at Geneva in 1607. A series of incidents gra¬
dually led him to his famous improvement. Becoming an
apprentice to a jeweller named Bordier, he was employed
in painting enamels for jewels. His success soon became
so great, that his master set him to draw miniature portraits
on the same substance. Several colours were the only
things wanting to enable the two to carry on their new
profession. They found some of these colours on going
and making application to the chemists of Italy. Then re¬
pairing to London, they obtained the rest from Sir Iheo-
dore Mavern, first physician to Charles I. Having thus
perfected the art of painting portraits in enamel, Petitot
entered upon a successful career as an artist. Many o
Vandyck’s pictures were given to him to be copied ; that
illustrious painter himself became his friend and adviser ;
the royal family sat to him ; and the king attached him to
his person, and gave him apartments in Whitehall. Even
after the outbreak of the civil war had blighted his pros¬
pects in England, his prosperity still continued. He was
retained for some time in the suite of the exiled Prince o
Wales. He was then taken into the service of the hrencli
Petit-
Canal
I!
Petiver.
Kino-, Louis XIV., and introduced into a new scene ot
professional success. A pension was bestowed upon him,
and a lodging in the Louvre was allotted to him. _ He was
employed in copying some of the celebrated pictures o
Mignard and Lebrun, and in painting the portraits of King
Louis XIV., and the Queens Anne of Austria and Maria
Theresa. This sunshine of court favour lasted until he had
amassed an immense fortune, and nearly reached the age
of fourscore. The path of Petitot then began to be beset
by troubles. Being a Protestant, he was alarmed at the
revocation of the edict of Nantes, and became eager to re¬
turn to his native country. On attempting to escape with¬
out the consent of the king, he was thrown into prison, and
the eloquent Bossuet was employed to convert him to
Popery. It was only after his health was undermined by
imprisonment, and the ineffectual attempts to make him a
proselyte, that his release was obtained. He had not been
Iona-in Switzerland when a stroke of apoplexy cut him oft
in 1691, in the act of painting a portrait of his wife, fifty-
six of the portraits of Petitot are preserved in the museum
of the Louvre. His masterpiece, however, is the full-
length portrait of Rachel de Rouvigny, Countess of South¬
ampton, in the collection of the Duke of Devonshire.
PETIVER, James, an eminent English botanist, born
about the middle of the seventeenth century, but in what
vear is not known. His profession was that of an apothe-
carv which he exercised in Aldersgate Street, London,
during the whole of his life. His business was extensive,
PET
Petra, and he afterwards became apothecary to the Charter-House.
Excepting Sir Hans Sloane and Courten, he was the only
person after the Tradescants who made any important col¬
lections in natural history, previously to those of the pre¬
sent day. He employed the captains and surgeons of dif¬
ferent ships to bring him home specimens ; and by means
of printed directions he enabled them to select proper ob¬
jects. In this manner his collection soon became so valu¬
able, that, some time previously to his decease, he was
offered L.4000 for it by Sir Hans Sloane, by whom it was
purchased some time after Petiver’s death. Both at home
and abroad his fame was extended by his valuable museum.
He was chosen a fellow of the Royal Society ; and having
become acquainted with Ray, he assisted him in arranging
the second volume of his History of Plants. He died on
the 20th of April 1718 ; and his funeral was honoured by
the attendance of Sir Hans Sloane, and other eminent men,
as pall-bearers. He published several works on different
subjects of natural history, particularly Musci Petiveriani
Centurice. decern, 1692-1703, 8vo : Gazophylacii Natures
et Artis, Decades decern, 1702, folio, with a hundred plates ;
A Catalogue of Mr Ray’s English Herbal, illustrated with
figures, 1713, and continued in 1715, folio; many small
publications, which may be found enumerated in Dr Pult-
ney’s book; many papers in the Philosophical Transac¬
tions, and a valuable article in the third volume of Ray's
work, entitled “ Plantae Rariores Chinenses, Madras-patanae
et Africanae, a Jacobo Petivero ad opus consummandum
collatae.” Many of his small tracts having become scarce, his
Opera Omnia were collected and published, exclusively
of his papers in the Transactions, 1764, in two vols. folio.
PETRA, the capital of Arabia Petraea, was situated be¬
tween the Dead Sea and the Ailanitic Gulf. In the times
of the Old Testament history it was called Selah, a word
which, like Petra, its Greek name, means “ a rock.” It is
recorded that Amaziah, king of Judah, “slew of Edom in
the valley of Salt ten thousand, and took Selah by war, and
called the name of it Joktheel unto this day.” (2 Kings
xiv. 7.) This name seems, however, to have passed away
with the Hebrew rule over Edom, for no further trace of it
is to be found; and it is still called Selah by Isaiah (xvi.
1). We next meet with it as the Petra of the classical
writers. Strabo, writing of the Nabathseans in the time of
Augustus, thus describes their capital :—“ The metropolis
of the Nabathaeans is Petra, so called ; for it lies in a
place in other respects plain and level, but shut in by rocks
round about, but within having copious fountains for the
supply of water and the irrigation of gardens. Beyond
the inclosure the region is mostly a desert, especially to¬
wards Judaea.” (Geog. xvi.) Pliny more definitely de¬
scribes Petra as situated in a valley less than two miles
(Roman) in amplitude, surrounded by inaccessible moun¬
tains, with a stream flowing through it. {Hist. Nat. vi.)
About the same period it is often named by Josephus as
the capital of Arabia Petraea, with which kingdom it passed
under the immediate sway of the Romans in the time of
Trajan. In the fourth century it is several times mentioned
by Eusebius and Jerome; and in the Greek ecclesiastical
Notitiae of the fifth and sixth centuries it appears as the
metropolitan see of the third Palestine. From that date
not the slightest notice of the city is to be found in any
quarter until modern times. It was Burckhardt who first
ventured to assume that the wonderful remains in Wady
Musa were the ruins of the ancient capital of Arabia
Petraea. His view was amply developed in his Travels in
Syria, p. 431, published in 1822, and was supported and
incontestably established by his editor, Col. Leake. (Leake's
Preface to Burckhardt’s Travels in Syria, pp. vii.-ix.) I he
ruined city lies in a narrow valley, surrounded by lofty,
and, for the most part, perfectly precipitous mountains.
The ancient and more interesting entrance is on the eastern
PET 495
side, through the deep narrow gorge of Wady Syke. A Petra,
river, or rather mountain torrent, flows through this gor<>e v'—
and passes out into the valley nearly opposite to the point
of entrance on the western side. The chief public build¬
ings occupied the banks of the river and the high ground
further south, as their ruins sufficiently show. One
sumptuous edifice remains standing on the south bank,
near the western side of the valley, and seems to have been
a palace, rather than a temple. It is called Pharaoh’s house,
and is thirty-four paces square. A little east of this, and
in a range with some of the most beautiful excavations in
the mountain on the east side of the valley, are the remains
of what appears to have been a triumphal arch. A few
roods south are extensive ruins, which probably belonged
to a temple, and which contain fragments of columns five
feet in diameter. Still further south are other piles of ruins
—columns and hewn stones—parts no doubt of important
public buildings which occupied what may be called the
central parts of Petra. A large surface on the north side
of the river is covered with substructions, which probably
belonged to private habitations. An extensive region still
farther north retains no vestiges of the buildings which once
covered it.
The attention of travellers has however been chiefly en¬
gaged by the excavations which have more successfully
resisted the ravages of time. These excavations, whether
formed for temples, tombs, or the dwellings of living men,
surprise the visitor by their incredible number and extent.
They not only occupy the front of the entire mountain by
which the valley is encompassed, but of the numerous
ravines and recesses which radiate on all sides from this
enclosed area. They exist, too, in great numbers along all
the approaches to the place, which in the days of its pro¬
sperity were perhaps the suburbs of the overpeopled valley.
At the same time they are often seen rising one above
another in the face of the cliff to the height of from two
hundred to three or four hundred feet above the level of
the valley. By far the largest number of these excavations
were manifestly designed as places for the interment of the
dead ; and thus exhibit a variety in form and size, of interior
arrangement and external decorations, adapted to the differ¬
ent fortunes of their occupants, and conformable to the pre¬
vailing tastes of the times in which they were made. Some
consist of a single chamber, 10, 15, or 20 feet square by 10
or 12 in height, containing recesses in the wall large enough
to receive one or a few deposits. Others are enriched exter¬
nally with various ornaments, representing columns of dif¬
ferent orders, graceful pediments, broad, rich entablatmes,
and sometimes statuary, and transforming the base of the
mountain into a vast, splendid pile of architectuie. I he
magical effect of some of these monuments is gieatly height-
enetl by the rich and various colours of the rock out^ of
which, or more properly in which, they ate fotmed. 1 he
mountains that encompass the vale of Petra are of sand¬
stone, of which red is the predominant hue. Many of them
are adorned with such a profusion of the most lovely and
brilliant colours as it is scarce! j'possible todesciibe. Red,
purple, yellow, azure or sky blue, black, and white, are seen
in tbecame mass distinctly in successive layers, or blended
so as to form every shade and hue of which they are
capable—as brilliant and soft as they ever appear in flowers,
or in the plumage of birds, or in the sky when illuminated
by the most glorious sunset. In fact, it is more easy to
imao-ine than describe the effect of tall, graceful columns,
exhibiting these exquisite colours in their succession of re¬
gular horizontal strata. They are displayed to still greater
advantage in the walls and ceilings of some of the excava¬
tions where there is a slight dip in the strata.
Detailed descriptions of the principal monuments have
been furnished by Laborde, Voyage dans VArabie-Petree),
Robinson {Biblical Researches), and Olin {Travels in the
496
PET
Petrarca. East, from which the above description has been chiefly
—i^ taken). Interesting notices of Petra may also be found in
the respective Travels, Journeys, &c., of Burckhardt, Mac
michael, Irby and Mangles, Stephens, Lord Lindsay, and
Schubert.
PETRARCA, Francesco, one of the greatest poets
and most celebrated men of whom Italy can boast, was born
at Arezzo on the 20th of July 1304. His baptismal name
was Francesco di Petracco (a form of Pietro), but the poet
afterwards changed it into the more euphonious i13'1’6 Y
which he is always known. His father, the friend of Dante,
and, like him, of' the Ghibelin party, had been banished
from Florence, where he filled a respectable situation con¬
fided to him by the republic ; and having taken refuge in
Pisa, he committed the education of his son, then in his
seventh year, to an old grammarian of that city named
Convennole da Prato. Two years afterwards, when the
death of the Emperor Henry VII. had destroyed the hopes
of the Ghibelins, the father of Petrarca removed Ins family
to Avignon, whither Clement V. had transferred the pon¬
tifical court, and his son resumed his studies at Carpentras,
under his former master. It was then that Francesco visitec
for the first time the fountain of Vaucluse ; and the rural
beauties of this celebrated spot left an indelible impression
upon his mind. He passed four years at the university of
Montpellier, whither he had been sent to study law, but
not relishing legal literature, he devoted his days and nights
to Cicero and to Virgil. But whilst engaged in these se¬
ducing pursuits, he was disturbed by the arrival of his
father, who, greatly incensed at what he conceived to be a
gross misapnlication of time, consigned to the flames the
little library if his son, and was with difficulty induced to
restore to hi.. i Cicero and Virgil, after they had been half
consumed. Being now sent to the university of Bologna,
to receive the instructions of Giovanni d’Andrea, the most
learned canonist of that age, Petrarca soon formed a con¬
nection there with Cino da Pistoia, a Florentine like him¬
self, whom Bartolo cites as his master in the science of law,
and who deserved to become that of Petrarca and Boccac¬
cio in poetry. At the age of twenty-two he lost his father,
and being ruined by faithless tutors, he returned to Avig¬
non, where he took up his residence, appeared with dis¬
tinction in the most brilliant society, and found himself at
liberty to apply to his favourite pursuits. Mathematics, his¬
tory, antiquities, and philosophy occupied, each in its turn, a
mind thirsting for knowledge. The first poetical attempts
of Petrarca, like those of Dante, were made in the Latin
language ; but, happily, his muse soon ventured to confide
her inspirations to the vulgar tongue, the only one, besides,
which the women understood.
About this time he renewed his acquaintance with one
of his school companions, Jacopo Colonna, the youngest
son of Stefano Colonna, the head of the illustrious family
of that name. In the society of the Colonnas, the poet
became known to the most illustrious strangers who visited
the pontifical city ; whilst the noble frankness of Ins man¬
ner, his mild yet sprightly physiognomy, the graces of his
mind, and his"unaffected anxiety to please, secured him a
remarkable ascendancy in this select circle. W hen Jacopo
Colonna was called to the bishopric of Lombes, his friend
accompanied him to his diocese, and in their way t eY
stopped at Toulouse. The seven Maintainers of t e aj-
Science were then beginning to diffuse a taste foi the \u gar
poetry, and to bring into notice those little effusions of song
unknown to the ancients, and some of which have still ic-
mained peculiar to the literature of the troubadours. A
submissive and unfortunate lover, Petrarca, like them,
sought to console himself by singing at once the charms
and the cruelty of his beloved. On the 6th of April 1327
he had seen, in a church of Avignon, the daughter of Audi-
bert de Noves ; and the passion he conceived for this lady
PET
occupied the remainder of his life, over which it diffused an Petrarca.
air of poetry and romance. Laura was united to Lgo
de Sade, a young patrician, and a native of Avignon ; and
faithful to her duties as a wife and a mother, she forbade
Petrarca to indulge the slightest hope. Incessantly haunted
with this beautiful vision, the poet visited in succession the
south of France, Paris, and the Low Countries. 1 he forest
of the Ardennes re-echoed in turn his verses and his lamen¬
tations ; he traversed Burgundy, the Lyonnais, Dauphine,
and, after an exile of eight months, returned to bury him¬
self in the delightful solitude of V auchise.
Pone John XXII. was then meditating a new crusade,
and, to further his object, he led the Romans to hope that
he would re-establish the chair of St Peter in Italy. 1 his
double project excited the imagination of Petrarca and in¬
spired his beautiful ode to his friend the Bishop of Lombes,
O aspettata in del, &c. The following year (133o) we
find him expressing, in elegant Latin verses addressed to
Benedict XIL, his earnest desire to see the Holy bee ic-
established in the eternal city ; and to this patriotic aspira¬
tion the Pope replied bv appointing him canon of Lombes
with the hopes of a prebend. The same year was marked
by an event unique in the life of Petrarca. A rocen am
close connection attached him to the interests of Azzo da
Corregio, one of the principal Lords of Italy, who was then
prosecuted before the papal courts at the instance of the
family of the Rossi. In the hope of serving his friend, the
poet resolved to plead his cause at the bar; and this he did
with so eminent success that it proved to both a day of
triumph. Since he had first beheld Laura, he sought occu¬
pation everywhere without being able to fix himself any¬
where. After visiting Rome, he returned to Avignon, ant
finally shut himself up in his retreat at Yaucluse, where he
made the acquaintance of Filippo di Cabassole, Bishop of
Cavaillon, whom the poet calls a little bishop and a gieat
man.
Meanwhile he commenced writing in Latin the History
of Rome from the foundation of the city to the reign of
Titus. But in collecting materials for this work he was
much struck with the grandeur of the events which had
marked the termination of the second 1 umc war; and
suddenly conceived the design of giving to his age a regu ar
epic, of which Scipio should be the hero. Before the end
of the year, the poet was in a condition to submit to his
friends "the greater' part of his work, which they received
with the most flattering encomiums. But a more grateful
distinction awaited him. His Sonnets and his Canzom had
filled France and Italy with the name of Laura and that o
her lover; in fact, these pieces were universally read amt
admired. Of the impression produced by his poetical genlus
he had soon the most convincing evidence. On the o
August 1340, he received at Vaucluse two letters, one from
the Roman senate, which invited him to accept the poetical
laurel, and be crowned in the capitol, and the other iom
the chancellor of the university of Pans, which offered
him the same triumph. Petrarca had long coveted the
poetic laurel, and even made known his wishes to Robert
of Anjou, King of Naples, whose influence had stimulated
the admiration, and hastened the decision, of the Roman
senators. This prince cultivated letters with enthusiasm,
and protected them in a manner worthy of a king. YV is >
in<r to appear indebted to him for the crown which had been
offered to him, Petrarca embarked for Naples, carrying with
him his epic poem, which he had entitled Africa 1 he
kin0- and the poet had repeated conferences upon the sub-
iects of poetry and history ; and at his audience of leave,
Robert, divesting himself of his robe, put it on Petrarca, at
the same time requesting him to wear it on the day when
he was to receive the laurel crovvn. p, k
The poet then repaired to Rome, and on Easte - y
(the 8th of April 1341) ascended the Capitol, in the midst
P E T R A R C A.
Petrarca. of the principal citizens ; received the crown from the hands
of the senator Orso, Conte di Anguillara; recited a sonnet
upon the heroes of ancient Rome; was conducted to the
church of St Peter, where he deposited on the altar the
laurel which encircled his brow; and then set out for Avig¬
non by land, as if to enjoy more leisurely his renown. He
carried with him the title of almoner to the king of Naples,
and letters-patent giving him, as well by the authority of
King Robert as by that of the senate and people of Rome,
full and free permission to read,-vindicate, and explain the
ancient books, to make new ones, compose poems, and on
every occasion to wear the crown of laurel, ivy, or myrtle,
at his pleasure.
Azzo da Corregio having just usurped the sovereignty of
Parma, on the pretext of freeing it from thraldom, urgently
pressed Petrarca to spend some time with him; and, cap¬
tivated by the attentions paid to him, the poet soon accept¬
ed the situation of archdeacon of the church of Parma,
caused a house to be built there, and then employed him¬
self in completing his poem of Africa. Glory had now
begun to console him for his labour and anxiety, when envy,
awakened by unexampled success, attempted to disturb his
repose; and at the same time the hand of death had stricken
the bishop of Lombes, his best friend and warmest admirer.
The accession of Clement VI. to the triple crown, in 1342,
revived in the mind of Petrarca hopes which had already
been twice disappointed. At the request of the Romans,
he accompanied to Avignon the deputation they had sent
for the purpose of soliciting the new pope to fulfil the
promises made by John XXII., and, in this matter, he
acted as the organ of the deputation. The pontiff received
him with marked distinction, appointed him prior of Miglio-
rino, in the diocese of Parma, and treated him with the
greatest familiarity, but made no answer to the petition of
the deputation, beseeching him to remove to Italy. At
the same time, however, his holiness, anxious to testify the
confidence he reposed in Petrarca, intrusted him with a
delicate mission, namely, that of obtaining from the regency
of Naples a recognition of the rights of the Holy See,
during the minority of the grand-daughter of King Robert.
Meanwhile, the celebrated Cola di Rienzi, having made
himself master of Rome, cited kings to appear before him,
and loudly proclaimed that his fellow-citizens were about
to resume, in the fourteenth century, their ancient dominion
over the world. All the illusions of Petrarca immediately
brightened into realities. An ardent defender of the tri¬
bune even in the midst of the pontifical court, he now con¬
gratulated the popular leader on his success, exhorted him
to persevere, and, impatient to counsel him on the spot, set
out immediately for Italy. The news of the massacre of
the Colonnas reached him at Genoa, and struck him with
consternation ; but still he felt disposed to pardon Rienzi,
provided Rome had become republican. The sway of the
tribune, however, was short-lived, and with his fall disap¬
peared that wild phantom of liberty which had deceived
Petrarca.
Scarcely a year had elapsed when the poet had to bewail
a loss still more painful. Laura was no more. The pesti¬
lence of 1348, which Boccaccio has described with such
terrible truth, had carried her off on the 6th of April that
year. The last half of the Canzoniere is an immortal
monument of the long regret of Petrarca. But although
his verses had not made us aware of the sincerity of his
grief for his mistress, the touching note which he inscribed
upon his copy of Virgil would still attest the profane homage
497
which he paid to her memory.1 Yielding to the repeated Petrarca.
instances of Luigi Conrado, lord of Mantua, Petrarca now ^
repaired to his princely residence, in the hope of finding
consolation ; and it was during his stay there that he ad¬
dressed to the Emperor Charles IV. an eloquent letter, in
which he exhorted him to restore peace to Italy. The
publication of the jubilee in 1350 drew almost all Christian
Europe to Rome. Petrarca, participating in this pious
impulse, set out for Rome, and in passing through Florence,
visited Boccaccio, one of those whom he had particularly
noticed at the court of Naples, and who now became his
friend. At Rome he found the jubilee commenced, and
the ceremonies of the occasion seem to have made a deep
impression on his mind. His habits became more grave,
his manners more austere; and from this time his thoughts
assumed a character of severity, the impress of which is
visible in his later compositions. At the same time he
everywhere received honours which had never before been
bestowed on any private individual.
The friendship of the Carraras having induced Petrarca
to visit Padua, he had scarcely arrived when Boccaccio
came to announce to him, in the name of the senate of
Florence, that he had been re-established in his rights as a
citizen, as well as in the patrimony of his family, and also to
offer him the directorship of the university recently founded
in the first city of Tuscany. This honourable appoint¬
ment, however, had no attraction for Petrarca. His books
awaited him in his transalpine Parnassus, as he called
Vaucluse; and his cisalpine Parnassus was his house at
Parma. He accordingly declined accepting the proffered
appointment, and hastened to bury himself in his favourite
retreat. About the same time, Rienzi, hadfcng fallen into
the hands of the emperor, was delivered up to the pope,
and brought before a judicial commission, against the
legality of which he vehemently protested. It is said that
Petrarca wrote to the Roman people, warmly exhorting
them to interpose in favour of his old friend; and, in fact,
this exhortation is found in his works. But there is nothing
to show that it was sent according to its address; on the
contrary, almost every circumstance leads us to believe that
his imagination alone had prompted him to write this letter,
rather to console than to save Rienzi.
On his return to Vaucluse, he engaged in the composi¬
tion of the “ Epistle to Posterity,” in which he gives an
account of the principal events of his life, until his de¬
parture from Italy, about the middle of the year 1351.2
Some months afterwards, Innocent VI. was called to the
government of the church,—a man of an irreproachable
life, but of little knowledge, and the only pontiff from whom
Petrarca did not receive some mark of favour. I he poet,
after having twice, under Clement IV., refused the office
of apostolical secretary, was now suspected of magic by his
successor, and he took no pains to dispel the prejudices of
the new pontiff. His regret for Italy was only increased ;
and he repassed the Alps, uncertain where to fix his abode,
although prepared to adopt as his country any place where
he might live in tranquillity and independence. He had
long wished to visit Milan, and, on this occasion, he pro¬
ceeded no farther. Charmed with the reception he met
with from a man of power, who knew well how to exhibit
himself to the poet in an amiable light, and admitted to the
counsels of Giovanni Visconti, archbishop and lord of
Milan, Petrarca accepted a mission having for its object to
brimr about a reconciliation between the republic of Genoa,
which had just given itself up to Visconti, and that of
1 The authenticity of this note is still disputed by those who wish to overturn the whole history of Laura. Mr Whyte a learned
Englishman, who discovered at Florence an inedited life of Petrarca, written soon after his death, by Luigi Peruzzi, who had known
him, also rejects the evidence of this note. But it is written in a tone which ought to silence incredulity, because feigned emotions
never bear the stamp of nature and reality. The Virgil of Petrarca has long been in the royal collection at Paris.
2 Ginguene (Histoire Litteraire d'Italic, tom. ii., p. 582) shows, contrary to the opinion of Badelli, that the “ Epistle to Posterity was
written in 1352, and not in 1372. J
VOL. XVII. 3 11
498
P E T R A R C A.
Petrarca. Venice, elated by recent and apparently decisive successes.
v'«—Three years before, Petrarca had endeavoured to prevent a
war which presaged long and bloody divisions in Italy.
Connected with the Doge Andrea Dandolo, one of the
greatest men of his age, in politics, in war, and in letters,
the poet appealed to the patriotism of his friend, and the
latter replied by praising the eloquence of Petrarca,
but without deferring to his counsels. Hence this new at¬
tempt proved not more fortunate than the previous one;
but events soon showed on which side lay the want of fore-
«i^ht. Venice was reduced to the necessity of purchasing
peace; Dandolo died of grief, and Visconti survived him
little more than a month. Nevertheless, after a silence ot
three years, the emperor replied to the letter in which
Petrarca had called upon him to restore peace to his
country, an appeal which he had several times renewed.
But the avarice of Charles IV. furnished a more powerful
motive to appear in Lombardy than the patriotic addresses
of Petrarca. Bv his orders the poet proceeded to meet
him at Mantua, full of confidence in his wisdom, and hoping
that, as the friend of the Holy See, he would for ever
banish from Italy the names of Guelf and Ghibehn, which
had caused the effusion of so much blood, and fomented
such fierce animosities. But in this monarch he discoveied
only a weak and avaricious prince, who mistook treachery
for talent, and exhibited the strange spectacle of an em¬
peror of Germany in the pay of the Venetians. The poet
presented him with some rare and valuable medals of
Augustus, of Trajan, and the Antonines. “ These, said
he are the great men whose place you occupy, and who
ouo-ht to be your models.” During eight days which he
spent in familiar intercourse with the emperor, Petrarca
discovered the mean, narrow, and grovelling character of
his mind, and refused to enter Rome in his train, or to be
a witness of his coronation. He then attached himself
more than ever to the three nephews of Giovanni Vis¬
conti whom the emperor had loudly menaced, with the
view of enhancing the price to be afterwards exacted for
confirming them in the usurpations of their uncle. At this
period, the public hatred had accused them of fratricide.
Petrarca, afflicted with a rumour which he could not be¬
lieve repaired to Pavia, where he was employed by Gale-
azzo Visconti to dissuade Charles IV. from undertaking a
new expedition beyond the Alps. This embassy proved
more successful than the former, apparently because the
proceedings of the malcontents in Germany had produced
a change in the versatile policy of the emperor. On his
return to Milan, the ambassador received from him the
diploma of Count Palatine, in a gold box of considerable
value. Petrarca accepted this new honour, but returned
the box to the chancellor oi the empii e. _ ,
Fatigued with the agitation of courts, the poet now fixed
upon a new retreat on the banks of the river Adda, in a
pretty country-house, which he called Linterno, in honour
of his hero Scipio. Literary projects and researches, reli¬
gious exercises, and frequent visits to the charter-house of
Milan, now occupied his leisure. All the great lords of
Italy had disputed with pontiffs and kings the honour of his
presence and conversation. But a goldsmith of Bergamo,
named Capra, solicited and obtained a sort of preference.
At the approach of Petrarca all Bergamo went out to meet
him, whilst Capra received him with a magnificence almos
royal, and proved by his enthusiasm, not less than b) t le
number and quality of his books, that be was worthy of his Petrarca.
guest. In 1360 a new diplomatic mission led Petrarca to
France, whither he went to compliment King John on the
recovery of his liberty ; and this prince, who had formerly
made vain attempts to prevent his return to Italy, now re¬
newed his efforts to retain him. But the envoy of Gale-
azzo returned to Milan, without suffering himself to be
moved either bv the presents of the monarch or by the
entreaties of the dauphin ; and those of the emperor, backed
by the transmission of a gold cup of curious workmanship,
found him equally inflexible. But never had a residence
in Italy presented fewer attractions. The foreign com¬
panies who infested that land of discord forced him to seek
an asylum at Padua, whence he was soon afterwards ex¬
pelled by the pestilence. He proceeded to Venice, accom¬
panied with his books, which he always carried along with
him, and, on his arrival, he presented his library to that
hospitable republic, by a writing dated in 1362 on condi¬
tion that so rare a collection should neither be divided nor
sold. By a decree of the senate, a palace was assigned for
the reception of Petrarca and his books; and it is, doubt¬
less, this circumstance which has made him be regau et
as the original founder of the celebrated library of St Mai •>.
The Abate de Sade is therefore mistaken in supposing that
all these manuscripts had perished. Tomasini, who ma e
a search for them in the year 1635, discovered them in a
small dark chamber, situated near the four bronze horses;
and there they remained until the year 1<39, when per¬
mission was at length given to the public to consult them.
This residence at Venice, indeed, is doubly memorable
in the life of Petrarca. It was here that, when driven by
the plague from Florence, Giovanni Boccaccio came to
share his asylum, and presented to him Leontius Pdatus ot
Thessalonica, who was then teaching him Greek. Petrarca,
though now past sixtv, resumed the study of that language,
and found, even in the difficulties which opposed his pro¬
gress, sufficient enjoyment to mitigate the affliction caused
by the loss of many valued friends. It was the fortune of
Petrarca to survive all those whom he loved.^ _ Under the
depression occasioned by the loss of his best friends, he be¬
came more sensitive to the criticisms which notwithstand¬
ing his reputation, were freely made on his Latin eclogues,
and on some parts of his Africa. It was then that the poet
wept over his laurels, and, in the bitterness of a wounded
spirit, confessed that his crown had been to him a crown ot
thorns. , . .
The homage which was paid to him at Venice might,
however, have afforded him some consolation, had not a
new revolt in the island of Candia created serious alarm in
the mother country. The senate, confiding in the military
reputation and experience of Luchino del Verme, a Milanese
general, the friend of Petrarca, appointed him to the com¬
mand of the expedition fitted out against the rebels; and
the poet consented to support the application made by the
doge to that officer. Luchino put down the insurrection ;
and Petrarca had a place assigned him on the right hand
of the doge, at the equestrian games which were celebrated,
in the manner of the ancients, in honour of this victoiy.
Urban V., a virtuous and enlightened pontiff, now attempted
to recall the poet to his court, by conferring upon him a
canonship at Carpentras,—a favour which he repaid byuiging
the holy father, in a long and vehement letter, to put an end
to celibacy in the Roman Catholic church. Meanwhile, the
1 Morelli, Bella Publiea Librena diS. Marco, p. 4, et s ’ cen[urieg feii to dust when touched, and others were found, as it
2 Several of these books, which had lain forgotten for n y g a Ust of those which, in 1635, were found in good condition,
were, petrified. Ton.asini, in his Petrarcha^ Redivivus (p. M and Turkish (Comanicum), written in the year 1303, of which he
Amongst these he remarked a Polyglot Vocabulary in Latin, Per , V
transcribed a small specimen. . , . f Qovp , of these manuscripts, which are still to be seen in the library of St
Morelli, in the work already referred to, gives a detail of severa .Wino-so lone: a period from the enthusiasm which the
Mark, and accounts for the oblivion into which they had been allowed to fall during o long a period, trom
acquisition of the Greek manuscripts of Cardinal Bessarion excite in the sen ce y.
P E T R A R C A. 499
Petrarca. cry of hatred raised everywhere against the Visconti had
armed against them the new pontiff, and with him the half
of Italy, now menaced by their ambition. Much less alarmed
at this danger, however, than apprehensive of a war which
would expose his country to the ravages of a foreign sol¬
diery, Petrarca was employed by Galeazzo Visconti to en¬
deavour to avert the storm; and this, which proved the
last, was also the most fruitless of all his missions. But the
warmth with which he defended the Visconti family in no
degree diminished the favour he enjoyed at Rome. Urban
wished to see him: and Petrarca' was preparing to respond
to an invitation conceived in terms the most urgent and
flattering, when he was seized with a terrible malady at
Ferrara. But though saved by the care of the Este family,
who governed that country, he did not recover sufficient
strength to continue his journey; and having returned to
Padua, reclining upon a couch in a boat, he established
himself 4 leagues from that city, at the village of Arqu&,
situated in the Euganean hills, so celebrated by the Romans
for the salubrity of the air, the richness of the pasturages,
and the beauty of the orchards. There the poet resumed,
with his labours, all the imprudence of his usual course of life.
Employing at once as many as five secretaries, he exhausted
himself with austerities, restricted himself to a single repast
composed of fruits or pulse, abstained from wine, fasted
often, and, on days of abstinence, allowed himself only bread
and water. An unforeseen event also served to retard his
convalescence. Urban V., preferring the peaceful abode
of Avignon to the tumultuous agitations of Rome, had re¬
turned to die in France. He was succeeded by Gregory
XI., who, equally well affected towards Petrarca, chose, as
his legate in Italy, Philippo di Cabassole, now cardinal and
archbishop of Jerusalem. But this prelate died soon after
reaching Perugia, and Petrarca never more beheld the be¬
loved friend of his youth.
Francesco da Carrara, abandoned by his allies, had just
concluded a humiliating peace with Venice. Being obliged
to send his son to ask pardon and swear fidelity to the re¬
public, he entreated Petrarca to accompany the youth, and
address the senate in his behalf. Though sick and old, the
poet only recollected his ancient friendship for the lords of
Padua, and repaired with young Carrara to Venice. The
day after their arrival they had an audience; but the old
man, overcome with fatigue, and perhaps awed by the ma¬
jesty of the assembly, could not utter a word. The follow¬
ing day, however, he took courage, and his harangue was
warmly applauded. But this effort proved his last; it was
the song of the swan when dying. He returned to Arqua,
feeble, exhausted, and as indocile to the counsels of phy¬
sicians as ever. Boccaccio, who now seemed to supply the
place of all the friends he had lost, having sent him the
Decameron, which hqd just been completed, Petrarca read
it with enthusiasm; got by heart the novel of Griseldis,
which he translated into Latin; and transmitted to Boc¬
caccio this version, accompanied with a letter, which ap¬
pears to have been the last he ever wrote. On the 18th
of July 1374, he was found dead in his library, with his
head resting upon an open book, an attack of apoplexy
having seized him in that attitude. All Padua came to
assist at his obsequies. Francesco da Carrara conducted
the funeral ceremonies, attended by the nobility and the
people ; and the family of the poet caused a mausoleum of
marble to be erected to his memory before the gate of the
church of Arqua.
The illustrious subject of this notice was connected with
all the celebrated men of the fourteenth century ; he took
part in almost every event by which that memorable age
was distinguished; and in a life so full of trouble and agi¬
tation, the only reproach which he incurred constitutes the
finest eulogium on his character. He was born a poet, and
always continued so, in his studies, his political missions,
his love, his conversation, and hia letters. The love of his Petrarca.
country was no doubt in him little more than a poetical
dream, but it was the dream of his whole life. In the in¬
toxication of glory, as well as in the midst of the most
cruel afflictions, ancient Italy was ever present to his
thoughts. In the glorious recollections of the past he
sought to console himself for the disorders of his own age,
and from his worship of antiquity he derived generous in¬
spirations and innocent illusions. That these illusions
sometimes misled him in the choice of his friends, cannot
reasonably be questioned. His candour exposed him with¬
out defence to the calculations of an astute policy, which,
masking its real designs under the captivating name of Italy,
completed the deception by the interested benefits which it
conferred upon letters; but he passed through the courts
of the petty Italian tyrants without any one having im¬
peached his character, or cast a shade of suspicion on his
memory. In his youth he had a natural daughter, near whom
he died soon after her marriage; and his son, whom he
survived, was cherished with an affection and bewailed with
a sorrow that long served to keep alive the regret which
the remembrance of his weaknesses had left in his mind.
He seems to have been impressed with a deep sense of
religion ; and, amongst the habits of a simple and studious
life, it is related that he rose regularly at midnight for
prayer. Superior to the pedantry which then and long
afterwards clung to learning, this great poet was also an
amiable man. His conversation was confiding and ani¬
mated ; his manners were frank and polished. His sou!,
ardent, but open to all the gentler affections, had a natural
craving for friendship, which was to him a necessary of
life ; and he had many friends, all of whom appear to have
been faithful to him, and equally swayed by the double au¬
thority of his counsel and his example. Boccaccio, whose
benefactor he had been, and who had previously been little
else than a man of pleasure, became irreproachable, if not
austere, in his morals, after his acquaintance with Petrarca.
It was by means of his friends that Petrarca exercised a
kind of literary dictatorship in France, in Spain, and in
England ; it was through his friends that he was enabled to
carry on that European correspondence which everywhere
rekindled the study and admiration of the ancients. He
represented in his own person the republic of letters, and
his life forms a grand epoch in their history.
He studied with diligence alchemy, astrology, scholastic
theology, and Aristotle, with his interpreter Aveiroes.
Even at the time when, by his advice, Galeazzo Visconti
founded the university of "Pavia, he himself directed the
course of study, and formed the mind of Malpighino, who
afterwards became so famous amongst the restoiers of let¬
ters by the name of John of Ravenna, His lepers Be
Scriptis Veterum Indagandis and De Libris Ciceroms
attest the extent of the researches he made to recover ma¬
nuscripts of the ancient authors, which he then copied with
his own hand. It was thus that he restored to the literary
world the Oratorical Institutions of Quintrhan, though
incomplete and mutilated, and the letters of Cicero the
manuscript of which is preserved in the Laurentran Lrbrary
at Florence, with the copy which he had made from rt. He
equally recovered some of Cicero’s orations which had been
lost; and it is further known that he had preserved the
famous treatise De Gloria ; but having lent it to his master
Convennole, this old man sold it for subsistence, and Petr area
afterwards attempted in vain to trace it orrt, as well as the
Antiquities of Varro, which he had seen in his youth, and
a book of letters and epigrams ascribed to Augustus. It
was he also who first made Sophocles known in Italy; and
his avidity for manuscripts had become so generally under¬
stood, that he received from Constantinople a complete
copy of the poems of Homer. After the gift which he
made to Venice, as already mentioned, he lost no time in
500
P E T R A R C A.
Petrarca. forming another library. In an age when chronology and
^ ^ J geography were still unknown, he had made a chronological
collection of imperial medals, and got together a very con¬
siderable number of geographical charts. He himself was
the author of a map of Italy, which continued to be con¬
sulted a century after his death ; and all his biographers
have mentioned his researches respecting the island of
Thule. , ,
The rest of Europe did not then possess men who had
attained the same splendour and universality of fame.
France, which had received from her troubadours the oldest
modern literature, could only boast of a few learned men;
such as Nicolas Oresme, Pierre Berchoire, and Froissart.
Chaucer, who was preparing to found a literature in Eng¬
land, saw Petrarca in Italy, and was perhaps indebted to
him for the acquaintance of Boccaccio, whom he has so
frequently imitated in his works. Another Englishman,
Richard de Bury, one of the correspondents of Petrarca,
founded a library at Oxford, and diffused throughout his
country a taste for books. As yet Spain had only her
early historical romancers, and some theologians ; but two
centuries later, the poetical admirer of Laura found in
Boscan an imitator at the court of Castille ; whilst Bembo,
Tarsia, Molsa, and many others, opened in Italy the dan¬
gerous school of the Petrarchists.
The letters of Petrarca, which were printed for the first
time in 1484, are now regarded as the most curious portion
of his Latin works. These letters, which were not written
exclusively, for his friends, contain valuable details in regard
to his life, as well as the manners and the history, literary,
and political, of the fourteenth century. The court of
Avignon is by no means spared; and the author was too
good an Italian not in some instances to overcharge a little
his portraits. His expression is animated, but not always
natural, and his prose often betrays the poet. His books
of moral philosophy somewhat resemble those common¬
places which were treated by the Greek rhetoricians of the
middle age. The treatise 'Be Otio Religiosorum was a
tribute of complaisance to the Carthusian friars of Montrieu,
amongst whom his brother had taken the habit of the older;
and it was at the request of Francesco da Carrara that he
collected the principal maxims of Plato and Cicero on po¬
litics, under the title of Be Republica optime administranda.
'fhe compilation in question, and his treatise De Officio et
Virtutibus Imperatoris, were printed separately at Berne,
1602, in 12mo. In his retreat at Arqua, he also wrote a
philosophical work against the disciples of Aristotle, under
this piquant denomination, De Ignoranlia sui ipsius et mul-
torum. His Historical Essays, of which some fragments
have been preserved, entitled Rerum Memorandarum libri
iv., in addition to the facts which he has borrowed from
preceding writers, contain some particulars belonging to
contemporaneous history, which are nowhere else to be
found. The perusal of the Confessions of St Augustin
appears to have suggested to him the most singular of all
his compositions, namely, the three dialogues, De Con-
temptu Mundi, to which he attached so much importance
as to call them “ his secret.”
The harangues of Petrarca are not always exempt from
declamation, and, more than any of his other productions,
betray the influence of the false taste against which he so
successfully strove. But his Latin poetry has particular
claims to the attention of men of letters. His poem of
Africa is a detailed recital of the second Punic war, but
almost always cold and colourless. It is a chronicle rather
than a poem, and appears as if it had been left unfinished.
The mens divinior is wanting; invention there is none ;
and we are astonished to find that the poetry of Virgil Petrarca.
produced so little inspiration. His eclogues, like those of
Boccaccio, are almost always satirical allegories, having re¬
ference to contemporaneous events. The tenth is conse¬
crated to the memory of Laura. In his three books of
Epistles, versified with more facility than might have been
expected in that iron age, there are some interesting and
instructive details. In fact, the Latin diction of Petrarca,
on which, curious to say, he founded his claims to distinc¬
tion as an author, though generally superior to the bald and
rude style of his contemporaries, is nevertheless far below
that of his models.
But Petrarca’s best title to distinction rests upon his
Canzoniere. It is there that he shows himself truly in¬
spired, and displays in profusion all the riches of his original
genius. The ancient erotic poets, strangers to any en¬
nobling sentiment, had celebrated pleasure rather than
love. Petrarca was the first, and for a long time the only
poet, who made a virtue of love. He formed for himself a
language, as Dante had done ; his turns of expression are
almost as bold; above all, he reproduced those graces of
colouring and that delicious harmony with which Dante
had related the misfortunes of his Francesca; and, after
the publication of the Canzoniere, the Italian idiom ceased
to have in it anything barbarous. W hen we read the verses
of Petrarca, we can almost fancy that we hear the sound of
his lyre, from which, on every occasion, he extracts sounds
of ineffable sweetness. His sonnets, from their form, fre¬
quently remind us of some of the smaller odes of Horace,
and, for grace as well as simplicity of details, recall the
manner of Anacreon. For this kind of poetry Petrarca
was indebted to his predecessors ; but it was he who ren¬
dered these little poems more perfect and more difficult;
and the laws which his example prescribed have not yet
been abrogated.
The Canzoni of Petrarca are odes the form of which
he borrowed from the troubadours, whilst to the substance
he imparted the elevation and dignity of epic composition.
The Italians have exhausted all the prescriptive terms of
admiration upon those which Petrarca appears to have pre¬
ferred, and which he called the Three Sisters, odes which
his commentators have since called the Three Graces.
But whatever may be the perfection of style for which they
are distinguished, a reader of the present day will always
find difficulty in comprehending the long literary idola¬
try of which they have been the object. He is often more
ingenious than natural, and more elaborate than correct;
but a re-perusal of the second halt of the Canzoniere, which
is very generally preferred to the first, must satisfy any
reader that nothing short of extreme injustice or inveterate
prejudice can construe into a mere play of words or sport
of ingenuity a grief which is stamped with all the charac¬
teristics of truth, deep Teeling, and sincerity.
The most complete edition of the works of Petrarca is that of
Basel, 1581, in folio, which wants only a certain number of Letters,
comprised in that of Geneva, 1601. The most ancient edition of
his Latin works also bears the name of Basel, where it appeared in
1496, in folio. But it is in the libraries of Italy that his Letters
and his Autograph Manuscripts must be sought for. The treatise
De Remediis utriusque Fortunco was printed at Cologne, 1471, in
4to, and has been thrice translated into French ; and the historical
work entitled Vite de Pontefici et Imperadori Romani, which has
now become exceedingly scarce, appeared at Florence, 1478, in
folio, and is still much sought after, as one of the most ancient
specimens of Italian prose. In later times, his Italian poems
alone have been reprinted. The first edition, containing the Sonetti
and the Trionfi, is that of Venice, 1470, in large 4to. Amongst
the subsequent editions, the most esteemed are,—Le Cose Volgari,
by Aldo Manuzio, Venice, 1501, in 8vo ; II Petrarca, Lyon, 1574, in
1 Q iv.- v. u • T. . whn tbpv sav was beloved by Pope Benedict XII. This fable, which has been
1 Several biographers have given Petrarca a sister, who, tney say, was u J r vi- n^ver had
received without question by many, is disproved by the fact, which Ginguene has clearly established, namely, that Petrarca never had
a sister.
Petrifac¬
tion
II .
Petronius.
PET
16mo ; Le Rime di Petrarca, Padua, 1722, in 8vo ; a reprint of the
same, with notes by Muratori, Venice, 1727, in 4to; the editions of
Bodoni, 1799, in two vols. folio and 8vo ; that of Morelli, the libra¬
rian, with remarks by Beccadelli, Verona, 1799, in two small
vols. 8vo ; that which forms part of the Biblioteca Poetica Italiana,
published by Buttura, and printed by Didot the elder, Paris, in
three small vols.; and the edition, with commentaries, published
by Biagioli in 1822, in 8vo. Of the 300 and more editions of the
Canzoniere, the best is that of Professor Marsand, two vols. 4to,
Padua, 1819-20. A careful bibliography of the works of Petrarca,
their various editions, commentaries, &c., was published by Domenico
de’ Rosetti, Trieste, 1828. Petrarca is said to have been the subject
of twenty-five distinct biographies, exclusive of the sketches of his
life given in collections. (j. B—E.)
PETRIFACTION. See Pal^eontologt.
PETRINIA, a town of Austria, in the Croatian Mili¬
tary Frontier, on the Kulpa, 27 miles S.E. of Agram. It
is built chiefly of wood, and has a square planted with mul¬
berries. There are here two churches, two schools, and
an hospital. Pop. about 4000.
PETROLEUM. See Mineralogy, § 499; also
Bitumen.
PETRONIUS, Arbiter, the author of a kind of ro¬
mance, flourished, if we may judge from the character of
his style, in the first or second century. Who he really
was has been much disputed, and has never been satisfac¬
torily determined. The only historical personage who
seems to have any marks of identity is a certain Caius or
Titus Petronius who lived at the court of Nero. This in¬
dividual, as described by Tacitus, was famous for turning
the pursuit of pleasure into a professional art. He slept
all day that he might be able to discharge with vigour his
voluptuous avocations during night. His great aim was to
grovel in sensuality in the most aesthetical manner, and to
move under the stiff uniform of a fop, with the simplest
and easiest bearing. It is true, indeed, that his mind was
for a while engaged with the graver duties of proconsul
of Bithynia and of consul; but he returned with fresh
eagerness to take a more leading part in his former profes¬
sion. Promoted to the office of “ arbiter elegantiae,” or
“ umpire of fashion,” he daily occupied himself in deciding
with pompous gravity what frivolities ought to be intro¬
duced at court. Even after another courtier, named Ti-
gellinus, had supplanted him in Nero’s favour, and his
doom appeared to be fixed, he resolved to remain true to
his calling till the last, by departing from the world in as
easy and elegant a manner as possible. Continuing at his
summer quarters at Cumae, where he then happened to be,
he caused one of his veins to be opened, and bandaged up
at intervals. While his heart’s blood was thus dripping
slowly away, he listened to giddy songs ; he sauntered forth
among the gay pleasure-seekers on the beach ; he returned
to his villa, and, reclining on a couch, discussed with his
friends the gossip of the day. In this manner the heartless
epicure ended his mockery of a life.
The supposed work of this Petronius, which is entitled
Satiricon, and which now exists only in fragments, is to a
considerable extent accordant with the character which we
have just drawn. It is the narrative of the adventures of
a certain Encolpius and his fellow-debauchees in their travels
in the south of Italy. The coarse and vicious personages
whom the tourists everywhere encountered are described
with great humour and dramatic propriety. The luxurious
and licentious scenes which they everywhere witnessed are
depicted with minute and shameless fidelity. That part es¬
pecially which is known as the Supper of Trirnalchio presents
a vivid picture of the profligacy of a Roman gourmand.
In fact, there is everywhere throughout the descriptions an
obscenity of thought expressed in an elegant and graphic
form of diction, which may reasonably be supposed to have
proceeded from a professed and accomplished sensualist.
The best edition of Petronius is that of Burmann, in two
vols. 4to, Amsterdam, 1743. The works of Petronius have
BET 501
been frequently translated into English. The translation Petropau-
of Addison (1736), and that in “ Bohn’s Classical Library,” lovski
edited by W. Kelly (185-1), deserve special mention. II
PETROPAULOVSKI, or “ The Harbour of St Peter Pet^
and St Paul? a small town of Asiatic Russia, capital of the
territory of Kamtschatka, on the Bay of Awatska, on the
S.E. coast of the peninsula; N. Lat. 53.1., E. Long. 158.
43. There are two good streets; but the general appear¬
ance of the town is not fine, as the houses, which are
scattered, are built for the most part of wood, and thatched
with reeds or dried grass. Many of the houses have gar¬
dens, in which a few vegetables are grown ; and, except
in the governor’s house and public buildings, plates of mica
are used in the windows instead of glass. There are seve¬
ral government offices, a Greek church in the oriental
style, a school, and an hospital. The harbour, which is
very good, and capable of containing six or eight ships of
the line, is defended by two forts, and has a lighthouse.
Fish are caught and dried here, and form the principal
article of export. Petropaulovski is the principal military
station in this province. It was bombarded by British and
French fleets, September 1854. Pop. (1850) 975.
Petropauloyski, a town of Siberia, in the govern¬
ment of Tobolsk, stands on the Ishim, 160 miles W. of
Omsk, on the great post route of Siberia, and on the bor¬
ders of the country of the Kirghises. A considerable trade
is carried on by barter, not only with the other parts of
Siberia out with Turkestan and the western part of the
Chinese Empire. Petropaulovski, Orenburg, and Troizk
are the principal stations by which the commercial inter¬
course is carried on between Russia and Central Asia.
Pop. (1842) 4127.
PETROVSK, a town of European Russia, capital of a
circle in the government of Saratov, stands on both sides
of the Medveditza, 70 miles N.N.W. of Saratov. It has
a ruined castle, seven churches, a convent, two schools,
and a benevolent institution. Many bees are reared in
the vicinity. Pop. (1848) 7631.
PETROZAVODSK, a town of European Russia, capi¬
tal of the government of Olonetz, stands on a bay on the
west shore of Lake Onega, near the confluence of the small
rivers Lossossinka and Neglinka, 192 miles N.E. of St
Petersburg. It is meanly built; but is the seat of the
governor and of the archbishop of Petrozavodsk and Onega.
There are six churches and several schools, an imperial
cannon factory, employing about i00 hands, a copper
foundry, and other manufactures. Ihere are produced
here nearly 3000 tons of iron annually, reckoned the best
in Europe. The manufactures of the town are conveyed
for sale to St Petersburg. Pop. (1849) 7567.
PETSH, or Ipek, a town of European Turkey, pro¬
vince of Albania, on both sides of the Bistrizza, 56 exiles
E.N.E. of Scutari. The river, which here flows rapidly
in several channels, and turns numerous mills, divides the
town into two parts, called respectively Jarin and Csenevia,
which are united by a high bridge of five arches. Petsh
contains a bazaar with 960 shops, numerous mosques, and
the residence of a pasha. Arms of a good quality are largely
manufactured here; and a kind of apple of an excellent
flavour is raised in the vicinity, and sent to Constantinople.
Pop. said to exceed 12,000. \
PETTY, Sir William, a distinguished political econo¬
mist, was the eldest son of Anthony Petty, a clothier at
Rumsey, in Hampshire, where he was born on the 16th of
May 1623. After receiving the rudiments of his educa¬
tion at the grammar-school of Rumsey, he removed to the
university of Caen, in Normandy, where he perfected
himself in Latin and French, acquired enough of Greek
“ to serve his turn,” studied the arts, and extended his
knowledge of the mathematics. On his return from
France, he was appointed to some post in the navy, which
502
PETTY.
Petty.
he soon gave op, and took to the study of medicine. W ith
this design he, in 1643, visited Leyden, Utrecht, and
Paris, where he studied anatomy, and read VesaHus with
Hobbes, whom be in turn assisted by drawing optical dia¬
grams for the philosopher. Having from his earliest years
displayed a decided taste for mechanical invention, Petty,
on the 6th of March 1647, patented a sort of copying ma¬
chine, by means of which “any man, even at the first sight
and handling, may write two resembling copies of the same
thing at once, as serviceably and as fast as by the ordinary
way.” But this machine having been found not to pro¬
mote expedition in writing, Petty did not reap much profit
by his invention. His next production was a pamphlet
entitled Advice to Mr Hartlib for the Advancement of
Learning, containing some sensible remarks on national
education. In 1648 he went to Oxford, where he gave
private instructions in anatomy, became assistant to Dr
Clayton, the professor of anatomy, and also practised physic
with considerable success. Here he acquired such repu¬
tation, that the philosophical meetings which led to the in¬
stitution of the Royal Society were for the most part held
at his lodgings; arid, by a parliamentary recommendation,
he obtained a fellowship in Brazen-nose College, and was
created doctor of physic on the 7th of March 1649. In
June 16 ">0, he was admitted a member of the College ol
Physicians. In 1651 he was appointed professor of ana-
tomv, and soon afterwards professor of music at Giesham
College ; and in 1652, he went to Ireland as physician to
the army in that country, where he served under three
successive lords-lieutenant, namely, Lambert, Fleetwood,
and Henry Cromwell. . , ~
In 1654 Dr Petty was appointed to survey the Irish for¬
feited lands adjudged to the soldiers after the suppression
of the rebellion of 1641. In 1655 Henry Cromwell as¬
sumed the lord-lieutenancy of Ireland, and soon afterwards
appointed Petty his secretary; in 1657 the viceroy further
appointed him clerk of the council, and got him elected to
serve as burgess for West Love, in Cornwall, in Richard
Cromwell’s Parliament, which assembled on the 27th of
January 1658. But this last honour speedily involved him
in trouble. On the 28th of March following he was im¬
peached of high crimes and misdemeanours in the execu¬
tion of his office, and obliged to proceed to England. His
case was taken up in the House of Commons, but as the
Parliament was suddenly dissolved, it never came to an
issue. He was removed, however, in the following June
from all his employments. He defended himself from the
charges of bribery, fraud, &c., which were urged against
him, by ingeniously arguing that he might have acquired
as large a fortune by other means as by having to do with
the Irish lands. At the Restoration he was graciously re¬
ceived by Charles II., and, having resigned his professor¬
ship at Gresham College, was appointed one of the com¬
missioners of the Court of Claims. In April 1661 he re¬
ceived the honour of knighthood, with the grant of a new
patent constituting him surveyor-general of Ireland ; and
he was at the same time chosen a member ot the Irish Far-
liament. Being one of the founders of the Royal Society,
he was elected a member of the first council ; and although
he had left off the practice of physic, his name appears in
the list of fellows of the College of Physicians m 1663.
About this time he invented a double-bottomed ship, which
was to sail against both wind and tide, though we are not
told by what means; and in 1665 he communicated to the
Royal Society, along with a model of his invention, a Dis¬
course about the Building of Ships.
In 1666 Sir William Petty drew up his treatise, entitled
Verbum Sapienti, containing an account of the wealth and
expenditure of England. In 1667 he married Elizabeth,
daughter of Sir Hardresse Waller, and widow of Sir
Maurice Fenton. This matrimonial connection, however,
did not for a moment distract his attention from his favour¬
ite pursuit of money-making ; for immediately afterwards
he established iron-works and a pilchard-fishery, opened
lead mines, and commenced a trade in timber at Kerry, all
of which turned to good account. To vary his pursuits,
he also composed a piece of Latin poetry, which he subse-
quently published under the title of Colloquium Davidis
cum Anima sua ! In 1680 he gave to the world his Po i-
tician Discovered, intended to expose the sinister practices
of the French ; and afterwards wrote several essays on / o-
litical Arithmetic, of very great ability. Lord Macaulay
remarks of them that “ Sir William Petty created the sci¬
ence of political arithmetic, the humble but indispensable
handmaid of political philosophy.” {Hist, of England.)
He assisted at the formation of the Dublin Philosopmcal
Society, and in November 1684 was chosen president ot
that association. On this occasion he drew up a Catalogue
of Cheap and Simple Experiments, which was soon after¬
wards followed by his Suppellex Philosophica, containing
a description of forty instruments which he deemed neces¬
sary to carry forward the design of the institution. He died
in London,'on the 16th of December 1687, in the sixty-
fifth year of his age. His will is perhaps the most cuuous
and characteristic composition of the kind in our language,
illustrating at once the habits of thinking and feeling pecu¬
liar to the man, and the mode in which he realized the
enormous fortune which he left to his descendants.
A few particulars of the personal history of Sir v\ ilham
Petty may be gleaned from Aubrey, who appears to have
lived with him on terms of intimacy. He possessed strong,
shrewd, natural good sense, flavoured with a tincture ot
humour, and had a most convenient way of shaking him¬
self rid of the trammels of party when it suited his interest
to do so, changing sides with a facility that is altoget ei
edifyino-. His qualifications were indeed various and pe¬
culiar. As a specimen of his fondness for drollery, we aie
told that, on one occasion, he proposed to fight Sir Jeiome
Sankey, who had challenged him, in a dark cellar with car¬
penter’s axes ; but the soldier knight did not deem it pru¬
dent to acquiesce. He would also preach extempore, which
Aubrey says he did “incomparably,” and that, too, in almost
any style, “ either in the Presbyterian way, Independent,
Capuchin friar, or Jesuit.” He had “ an admirable invent¬
ive head, and practical parts,” which he turned to good ac¬
count, as far as his own interest was concerned ; and, like
his friend Hobbes, he boasted that he had read but little
since he was twenty-five, declaring that “had he read as
much as some men have, he had not known so much as he
does, nor should have made such discoveries and improve¬
ments.” He told Aubrey that he had “ hewed out his for¬
tune for himself;” and he even managed to obtain a patent
Petty.
   U A„ for legacies for the poor, I am at a stand ; as for beggars by trade and
1 Here is a specimen of this extraordinary compositio . the°uublic ought to maintain them ; as for those who have been bred
election, I give them nothing; as for impotents by the hand , P o magistrate should cause them to
to no colling or estate, they should be put upon tbe.r i tap™v?Me land foe eve°ry head ; prisoners for crime,
be employed, which may be well done m ireland, where is (ar ) . e the guJferings 0f any object, let them relieve them, and re-
by the king; for debts, by their prosecutors ; as for those who co p Onfi’c sake relieve those several species above
lieve themselves by relieving such sufferings, that is I am contented that I have assisted all my poor rela-
mentioned where the above-mentioned obligers fail in their duties . , j vv inventions have sought out real
tions, and put many in a way of getting their own bread, and have laboured in P^ c works and by inventions have S
objects of charity; and do herebyconjure all who partake of my estate, from time to time to do the same at their peril.
to answer custom, and to take the surer side, I give L.20 to the most wanting o t e pans w
Pewter.
PET
Petworth of nobility as Earl of Kilraore, which, however, he sup¬
pressed, to avoid envy. The variety of pursuits in which
he was engaged shows that he had talents capable of achiev¬
ing anything to which he chose to apply them ; and it is
certainly not a little remarkable, that a man of such an ac¬
tive and enterprising disposition should have found time to
write so much as he did in the course of his busy life.
The following is a list of the works which appeared in his life¬
time;—Advice to Air Samuel HartUb, 1648, in 4to; A Brief of Pro¬
ceedings between Sir Jerome Sankey and the Author, 1659, in folio;
B,efle.ctions on Some Persons and Things in Ireland, 1660, in 8vo;
A Treatise of Taxes and Contributions, 1662, in 4to, republished in
1690, with two other pieces ; Apparatus to the History of the Com¬
mon Practice of Dyeing, 1667; A Discourse concerning Duplicate
Proportion, 1674, in 12mo ; Colloquium Davidis cum Anima sua,
1679, in folio; The Politician Discovered, 1681, in 4to; An Essay
on Political Arithmetic, 1682, in 8vo; Observations upon the Dublin
Bills of Mortality in 1681, 1683, in 8vo ; “ Some Experiments re¬
lating to Land-carriage,” Phil, Trans., No. 161 ; “ Queries on Mi¬
neral Waters,” Ibid., No. 166 ; “ A Catalogue of Experiments,’
Ibid., No. 167 ; Maps of Ireland, being an actual Survey of the whole
Kingdom, 1685, in folio; An Essay concerning the Multiplication of
Mankind, 1686, in 8vo; “ A further Assertion concerning the Mag¬
nitude of London,” Phil. Trans., No. 185 ; Two Essays in Political
Arithmetic, 1687, in 8vo; Five Essays in Political Arithmetic, Eng¬
lish and French, 1687, in 8vo; Observations upon London and
Rome, 1687, in 8vo. His posthumous productions are'.— Political
Arithmetic, 1690, in 8vo, and 1775, with a Life prefixed, and a Let¬
ter never before printed; The Political Anatomy of Ireland, to
which is added Verbum Sapienti, 1691, 1719 ; A Treatise of Naval
Philosophy, in three parts, printed at the end of an Account of Se¬
veral New Inventions, 1691, in 12mo ; << IV hat a Complete Treatise
of Navigation should contain,” Phil. Trans., No. 198, drawn up in
1685. In Birch’s History of the Royal Society are contained, “ A Dis¬
course of making Cloth and Sheep’s V\rool,’ including the History
of the Clothing Trade, and also that of Dyeing ; and Suppellex
Philosophica, already mentioned. Many of Sir William Petty’s
manuscripts are to be found in the British Museum. (j. B E.)
PETWORTH, a market-town of England, in the county
of Sussex, on a branch of the Arun, 14 miles N.E. of Chi¬
chester, and 49 S.W. of London. It is irregularly built,
though clean and neat; and contains a market-house; court¬
house ; cruciform church, in the perpendicular style, with
many relics of the Percies of Northumberland ; Independ¬
ent and Methodist places of worship ; several schools, alms¬
houses, and savings-bank ; and a literary institute. Fairs
are held here three times a year. In the vicinity of the
town stands Petworth House, in the midst of a beautiful
and well-wooded park, with a sheet of water in front of the
mansion. It is a magnificent edifice, and contains a very
fine collection of books, paintings, statues, and busts. I he
sword used by Hotspur at Shrewsbury is kept here. Pop.
(1851) 2427.
PETZKA, or Pecska, a market-town of Hungary,
county of Arad, on the Maros, 10 miles W. of Arad. It
consists of two parts, Magyar and Raitzisch Petzka; and
contains a Roman Catholic church. 1 he neighbourhood
is fertile, producing wine in large quantities ; and some trade
is carried on in horses, cattle, sheep, and tobacco. Pop.
(1846) 13,900.
PEWTER. The theoretical composition of common
pewter is 80 parts tin and 20 of lead ; but as the manufac¬
turers consider that a better alloy is formed by melting up
old pewter with new ingredients, the composition is uncer¬
tain. The French legislature sanctions the use of 82 parts
tin and 18 oflead, as forming an alloy which is quite harm¬
less in vessels used for wine and vinegar. Antimony is
sometimes added for hardening the tin, and for giving a
more silvery colour. Zinc is also used to diminish the oxi¬
dation ; a small lump of that metal being allowed to float
on the fluid pewter during the casting ; or the fluid is occa¬
sionally stirred with a strip composed of equal parts of zinc
and tin. The finest pewter, called fin-and-tewper, consists
mostly of tin, with a small proportion of copper, which
makes it hard and somewhat sonorous ; but the copper is apt
PEW
503
to impart a brown colour. The temper is formed by melt- Pezenas.
ing tbe copper, and adding twice its weight of tin, and from
£ lb. to 7 lb. of this alloy is added to each block of tin,
which weighs from 360 to 390 lb.
In the year 1772 the Pewterers’ Company made an
attempt to regulate the quality of pewter-wares by esta¬
blishing “A Table of the Assays of Metal, and of the
Weights and Dimensions of the several sorts of Pewter
Wares.” The assay was directed to be made by casting a
small button of the metal, to be tried in a brass mould so
proportioned that such a button of pure tin should weigh
182 grains. All the metals added to the tin being heavier
than tin, the buttons would be heavier in proportion as they
contained less tin. On these data the following scale was
founded :—
Grains.
Assay of pure tin 182
„ fine or plate metal 1| grains heavier than tin, or...!83j
„ trifling metal 3J grains heavier than tin, or 185^
„ ley metal 16J grains heavier than tin, or 198£
Pewters formed of equal parts tin and lead are about 50
grains heavier than tin, or 232 grains. Such pewters, when
cast, are black, shining, and soft; and when turned, are
dull and bluish. Pewters which contain only one-fifth or
one-sixth of lead, cast into wares which are white, hard,
and without gloss ; theyr form a good metal, and are but
little darker than tin. The French have published a table
of specific gravities for testing the quality of the alloy, the
legal standard of which is 7’/64. An excess oflead is
detected by an increased density.
Of the three ordinary kinds of pewter distinguished m
the Pewterers’ Scale, plate pewter is the hardest, and is
used for plates and dishes. I he pewter called trifle is used
for beer-pots ; and ley for the larger wine measures. The
best plate pewter is sometimes composed of 100 parts tin,
8 antimony, 2 bismuth, and 2 copper. Trifle consists of
83 of tin, 17 of antimony, and usually a large proportion ot
lead. . ,
Pewter plates and dishes are formed by hammering, and
measures and spoons by casting. The parts are joined to¬
gether by means of soft solder, assisted by a blast ol hot
air from a small charcoal furnace. Pewter is also formed
into sheets for printing cheap music; the softness of the
metal allowing the notes to be formed by means of punches,
which is cheaper than engraving with the burin. Laps
and polishers of pewter are also formed for the use of lapi¬
daries, jewellers, watchmakers, &c.
Pewter-wares are finished by burnishing with oil, and
cleaning off with a rag and whiting. Pewter vessels may
be cleaned bv means of silver-sand and water, or will
solution of potash or of soda to remove grease. (C-T.)
PlDZENAS, a town of France, department of Herau t,
occupies a beautiful position on the left bank ot the Hwault
at it! confluence with the Feme, 23 “‘le8JV AW. of
Montpellier. Many of the streets are broad, and lined with
handsome and well-built houses. The old castle, now m
ruins, commands a beautiful view over a country g distm-
p-nished for fertility as to be called the Garden of Heiault.
The principal buildings are the parish church and the
theatre • the latter of which was originally a conventual
chapel! Linens, napkins, muslin, woollen and cotton
fabrics, hats, soap, brandy (for which it is one of the c ne
markets in Europe), and chemical substances, are among the
manufactures of the place. Besides brandy, wine, and
spirits, the principal articles of commerce are grain dried
fruit oil timber, and cotton, silk, and woollen stuits. A
ereat fair is held here in September, which is frequented
by merchants from the whole of the south of France. It
was at Pezenas that Moliere wrote the play called Les Pre-
cieuses Ridicules, while the manager of a company ot stroll¬
ing players. Pop. 7375.
504
Pfeffel
II
Phaed».
P F E
PFEFFEL, Gottlieb Conrad, a German poet, was
born at Colmar in 1736, and was educated at the univer¬
sity of Halle. He was destined for the legal profession ;
but an attack of ophthalmia, which issued in total bhndness,
gave a new bent to his career. He first, in 1773, esta¬
blished in his native town a military seminary for the educa¬
tion of Protestant youths. When the French revolution
put a stop to that enterprise, his attention was then devoted
to literature. He was engaged from that time till his
death, in 1809, in writing tales, odes, ballads, and poetical
epistles, and in translating dramatic pieces from the French.
His Poetische Versuche were published in 10 vols., 1802-10;
and his Prosaische Versuche in 10 vols., 1810-13. Pie -
fel’s elder brother Christian Friedrich was distinguished as
a jurisconsult and diplomatist.
PFEFFERS, or Pfaffers (Fr. Faviere), a village ot
Switzerland, in the canton of St Gall, stands in the wild
valley of the Tamina, 31 miles E. of St Gall. It is chiefly
remarkable for its hot baths, which are situated in a deep,
narrow chasm, through which the Tamina forces its way.
The mineral water, which has a temperature of about 100
Fahr., is used both for bathing and drinking, and has great
reputation, though it contains but a small proportion of saline
particles. The baths are capable of accommodating 200 or
300 patients at a time. Pfeifers was the seat of a Bene¬
dictine abbey, which was founded in 713, but suppressed
in 1838 ; and the buildings are now used as a lunatic asy¬
lum. Pop. 1315. „ ^ , r n/f-mi
PFORZHEIM, a town of Baden, circle of Middle
Rhine, near the confluence of the navigable river Enz
with the Nagold and Wurm, 16 miles S.E. of Carlsruhe.
It is an ancient city, inclosed by a wall and moat, outside
of which are several suburbs. Pforzheim has an ancient
castle, on a rising ground, the church ot which contains
many interesting monuments, as well as the graves of the
<rrand dukes of Baden. There are other churches, an aca¬
demy, a deaf-and-dumb institution, hospital, and other cha¬
ritable establishments. Pforzheim is at present the most
important manufacturing town in Baden. Watches, jew¬
ellery, cloth, leather, chemical products, and hardware are
manufactured ; and there are also dye-works, bleachfields,
and iron and copper foundries. An active trade is carried
on in timber and oil. Pforzheim was the birthplace of
the celebrated Reuchlin, the patron of Melanchthon. Pop.
7951.
PFULLINGEN, a town of Wurtemberg, circle of the
Black Forest, stands on the Echatz, in a beautiful valley at
the foot of a mountain, 3 miles S.E. of Reutlingen. It
contains a castle and two large paper-mills. Weaving and
lace-making are carried on ; and wine and vegetables are
raised in the vicinity. Pop. 4300.
PHiEDO, a native of Elis, was the founder of the Ehac
sect of philosophy, and the person whose name Plato in¬
scribed in one of his most celebrated Dialogues. 1 he exact
date of his birth and death is unknown, but he flourished
B.C. 399. By the fortune of war he was taken prisoner,
and reduced to a state of slavery. He was brought to
Athens, where he became known to Socrates, who a
mired his talents so much that he induced Alcibiades or
Crito, or, according to others, Cebes, to release him from
servitude. He then became one of the most devoted at¬
tendants on his benefactor. It appears that he was not at
all satisfied with the manner in which he was introduced
by Plato into his dialogue ; and he used to declare public y
that he had never spoken in that way, and that he ia
never heard Socrates use the language which Plato put into
his mouth. He composed several Dialogues, the titles o
which were, Zopyrus, Simon, and several which it was
doubtful if they belonged to him ; Nicias; Antimachus; Me-
dus, ascribed by some to dEschines, by others to Polyaenus;
Sythici Sermones, ascribed also Vo iEschines; and three
P H A
others quoted by Suidas. (Diogenes Laertius’s Life of Phaedrus
Phcedo.) II
PH7EDRUS, the author of five books of Fables, in Latin vFhaIa^
iambic measure, was a native of Thrace or Macedonia, and V^''
brought at a very early age to Rome, where he became
the slave of Augustus, and from whom he subsequently
received his freedom. The few facts that we know respect¬
ing his personal history are to be collected from his Fables,
as he is noticed by no earlier writer than Avianus, unless,
perhaps, Martial mav allude to him in one of his epigrams
(iii. 20). If he really existed at this early period, it is
strange that he should have been unknown to Seneca
( Cons, ad Polyb. 27). By his long residence at Rome, Phae¬
drus acquired a complete acquaintance with the language,
and wrote it with as much ease as he could have done that
of his own country. In the reign of Tiberius, he excited
the wrath of Sejanus, and was banished by him, though for
what cause we are nowhere distinctly informed. Undei
Caligula we find him in hopes of being re-instated in his
position at court, through the influence of Eutychus. Part
at least of these Fables must have been written in the latter
vears of the poet, and not published till after the death of
Sejanus. Schwabe, who has examined this point with great
dilio-ence, thinks that the first two books were written after
the departure of Tiberius to Caprea, the third under Cali¬
gula, and the fourth and fifth under Claudius. One part
of these Fables consists of very happy translations of the
Greek Fables oLEsop into the Latin language, or imitations
of them in verse, similar to that employed in the transla¬
tions. The other part seems to have been orginal, or at
least we have no longer the writers from whom he bor¬
rowed his subjects. The style is pure, the language re¬
markably correct, and the whole is written with simplicity
and ease. Yet many have doubted whether these fables
can be considered as the genuine productions of Phaedrus,
the freedman of Augustus, as we have so lew manuscripts
of the work, and as Seneca was evidently unacquainted with
it. Some ascribe them to the pen of Nicolaus Perotti, Aich-
bishop of Manfredonia, who lived about the middle of the
fifteenth century ; but, in later times, the discovery of some
manuscripts, one of w'hich is considered as of the tenth
century, has proved the incorrectness of such a supposi¬
tion. The best edition of the works of Phaedrus is that by
J. C. Orelli, Zurich, 1831, 8vo. The English translations
of Phaedrus are as follows :—Philip Ayres (1689), Thomas
Dyche (1715), Dan. Bellamv (1734), Anonymous (1745),
John Entick (1754), “ A Gentleman of the University of
Cambridge” (1755), Christopher Smart (poetical transla¬
tion, 1765), Francis Fowke (1776), H. T. Riley, with C.
Smart’s metrical version in “ Bohn’s Classical Library
(1853).
PHAETHON (4>ac#(av, the shining), was, according to
the most common account, the son ot Helios and Clymene,
one of the Oceanides, and wife of Merops. Fired by va¬
nity and ambition, the youth had the presumption one day
to request his father to allow him to drive the chariot of
the sun across the heavens. Helios, after much solicitation
from Clymene in her son’s behalf, at last yielded; but
the audacious lad not having strength sufficient to control
the fiery coursers, slackened the reins, upon which Zeus,
to prevent his consuming the heavens and the earth, smote
him with a thunderbolt, and hurled him from his seat into
the River Eridanus or Po. His sisters, called by some
PhaUhontiades, and by others Heliades, who had yoked the
horses to the chariot, and who now lamented his loss on
the banks of the fatal river, were metamorphosed into pop¬
lars. and their tears converted into amber.
PHALANX, in Greek military organization, a close,
compact mass of infantry drawn up in files, usually of
eio-ht deep (Thuc. v. 68) ; butt he depth was increased
bv the Thebans to twenty-five (Th ic. iv. 93). 1 he pha-
P H A
Phalaris lanx was subsequently brought to perfection by Philip of
Ij Macedon. But for further details of this celebrated mili-
Phansecs. tary formation? see Army.
PHALARIS, a tyrant of Agrigentum in Sicily, known
to fame for his cruelty and inhumanity, but of whom little
is definitely known. Ancient writers are not agreed as to the
precise period when he began to reign, but Eusebius fixes
the commencement of it b.c. 570, and his death b.c. 555.
His father’s name was Leodamas, a native of Astypalaea,
an island in the Aegean Sea, where Phalaris was born. A
dream of his mother is said to have prognosticated the
cruelty of her unborn son. (Cic. Div. i. 23.) When he
was grown to manhood, he made an attempt to seize upon
the government of his native country, but was obliged to
fly. He took refuge at Agrigentum, where he contrived to
ingratiate himself with the people, and by a stratagem
(Polysen. v. 1) got possession of the supreme authority,
which he exercised at first with much moderation. The
Agrigentines, however, refused to submit quietly to his sway,
and Phalaris found himself obliged to maintain by severity
that pow’er which he had so unjustly acquired. It is not
unlikely that the ancients gave an exaggerated account of
his cruelties, with a view of inspiring a hatred of tyranny.
Athenseus speaks of his roasting children alive, and Aris¬
totle states that he actually ate them ; but such accounts
can scarcely be credited. Perillus, an Athenian artist, is
said to have constructed a brazen bull, in which the victims
of Phalaris might be roasted ; and when he expected to
have been highly rewarded, the tyrant ordered him to be
shut up in his own horrible machine. This story was doubt¬
ed by Timaeus {Schol. Pind. Pyth. i. 185), but Diodorus
Siculus asserts its truth (xiii. 90, xix. 108). When Agri¬
gentum was taken by the Carthaginians, they carried the
bull to Carthage, and when that city was destroyed by
Scipio Africanus, B.c. 146, it was presented by him to the
Agrigentines. (Cic. Fem iv. 33.) Authors are not agreed
as to the mode of his death, but the most probable opinion
is, that the Agrigentines, tired of his cruelties, stoned him to
death. (Off. ii. 7.) We possess a collection of letters
under the name of Phalaris, which Charles Boyle, who has
edited them, tries to prove the genuine productions of the
tyrant; but there can be no doubt that they were written
by some of the later sophists, and that Bentley was right in
pronouncing them “ a fardle of common places.” They
were published for the first time by Justinopolitanus, at
Venice, 1498, in 4to. The best editions are those of Ox¬
ford, 1695, 1718, in 8vo, with a Latin translation, notes,
and a dissertation of Boyle on the life of Phalaris ; that of
Groningen, 1777, in 4to, which was begun by Lennep, and
finished by Walkenaer ; and, above all, that of Schaefer,
Leipzig, 1823. The Epistles of Phalaris have been re¬
peatedly translated into Italian, French, and English. (See
the Dissertation of Dodwell, De JEtate Phalaridis ; and
the Answer of Bentley.)
PHALGU, or Phalgoo, a river of British India, in
the presidency of Bengal, is formed by the confluence of
the Mehanee and Lilajun, two mountain streams, in the dis¬
trict of Ramgurh ; flows through that and the district ot
Behar, first N., and then E.; and finally falls into the
Ganges, after a course of about 246 miles. During the
rainy season it has a great volume of water, which rushes
with great velocity; and the numerous branches which it
sends out on both sides are filled, and partially inundate the
neighbouring country. The name Phalgu is properly ap¬
plied only to 25 miles of its middle course, where it is con¬
sidered sacred ; the lower portion is known by the name of
Mehanee, and the upper by those of Julwara and Kuthor.
PHANTASMAGORIA. See Optics, part ix.
PHARISEES {Gr. ^aptuatot, derived from the Hebrew
parash, to separate), the most celebrated of all the Jew¬
ish sects. As their name implies, they were separated from
VOL. XVII.
P II A 505
all others by the assumed correctness of their opinions and Pharisees,
the holiness of their lives. The precise origin of the sect
is not known. That they, however, as well as their natural
opponents, the Sadducees, existed in the priesthood of Jo¬
nathan,—that is, between 159 and 144 before Christ,—is
known from Josephus, who (Antiq. xiii. 5) makes men¬
tion of them as well as of the sect of the Essenes. The
terms he employs warrant the conviction that they were
then no novelties, but established religious parties.
The same historian (who was himself a Pharisee, and who
says they were “ of kin to the sect of Stoics, as the Greeks
call them”) further describes them in the following terms :—
“ The Pharisees have delivered to the people a great many
observances by succession from their fathers, which are not
written in the law of Moses, and for that reason it is that
the Sadducees reject them, and say that we are to esteem
those observances to be obligatory which are in the written
word, but are not to observe what are derived from the tra¬
dition of our forefathers. Hence great disputes. The Sad¬
ducees are able to persuade none but the rich, and have
not the populace obsequious to them, but the Pharisees have
the multitude on their side.” (Joseph.Hrc^.xiii. 10.) “The
Pharisees live meanly, and despise delicacies in diet; and
they follow the conduct of reason, and what that prescribes
to them as good they do. They also pay respect to such
as are in years ; nor are they so bold as to contradict them
in anything which they have introduced ; and when they de¬
termine that all things are done by fate, they do not take
away from men the freedom of acting as they think fit,
since their notion is, that it hath pleased God to make a
constitution of things whereby what He wills is done, but
so that the will of man can act virtuously or viciously.
They also believe that souls have an immortal vigour in
them, and that under the earth there will be rewards or
punishments, according as men have lived virtuously or
viciously in this life. The latter are to be detained in an
everlasting prison j but the former shall have power to re¬
vive and live again : on account of which doctrine they are
able greatly to persuade the body of the people ; and what¬
soever is done about divine, worship, prayers, and sacrifices,
is performed according to their directions, insomuch that
the cities gave great attestations to them on account of their
entire virtuous conduct.” (Joseph. Antiq. xviii. 1. 3.)
“ The Pharisees say that some actions, but not all, are the
work of fate (elfxapixevrj); that some of them are in our
own power, and that they are liable to fate, but are not
caused by fate” (Joseph. ‘Antiq. xiii. 5. 9). ‘ I he sect of
the Pharisees are supposed to excel others in the accui ate
knowledge of the laws of their country (Joseph. Vita.,
sect. 38). “ The Pharisees have so great a power over the
multitude, that when they say anything against the king or
against the high-priest, they are generally believed (Jo¬
seph. Antiq. xiii. 10. 5). “ The bodies of all men are mortal,
and are created out of corruptible matter; but the soul is
ever immortal, and is a portion of the divinity that inhabits
our bodies.” (De Bell. Jud. iii. 8. 5.) .
There is another source of our knowledge of the Phari¬
sees—the books of the New Testament. The light in
which they here appear varies, of course, with the circum¬
stances to which its origin is due. The Gospels present
the character of the Pharisees in a darker hue, inasmuch
as here a higher standard of morality is brought into use.
Plere they are charged continually with the worst forms of
pride, hypocrisy, avarice, and sensuality. At an early
period they determined in the Sanhedrim to withstand and
destroy Jesus, instigated doubtless by the boldness with
which he taught the necessity of personal righteousness
and pure worship. (Matt. xii. 14.)
Staudlin, in estimating the character of the Pharisees,
has the following remarks:—“ The Pharisees held anxiously
to the decisions of the holy writings and the older Jewish
3 s
506
P H A
P H E
Pharmaco* teachers. Thus their whole system was bu.lt upon audio-
pceia rity, and their morality was changed into a casuistry, like
II that of the Jesuits. To every event that happened they
Pbarnaba- knew how t0 ly either a passage of the sacred books or
an explanation of the same, or a corollary, an inference, an
arbitrary extension or restriction. On this account nothing
is more” pitiable or more ridiculous than their exegetical
theology, whence their system of morality became uncer -
tain and unconnected, without general principles, life, and
spirit. Thus arbitrariness and ingenuity, instead of reason
and solidity, were applied to morals ; and to a party which
assumed, and by its nature must assume, dominion over the
minds of men, the temptation was often too gieat to ac¬
commodate their principles to the passions of men, am
to use for the same purpose their casuistry, dependent
on authority, which so easily lent itself to this end. 1 ie
persecutions of Andochus Epipl.anes, the opposition of
the Sadducees, bound them only the more to then o d
precepts and method of teaching, and filled them with
^ever-living opposition to every Gentile doctrine and
Pharos
custom. They considered themselves the more as the
only genuine and pure Israelitish teachers of religion;
they preserved the reverence for the holy books which ha
been of old widely spread among the people ; and, aided
by their principles, which were in fact very rigid they could
not fail to gain with the people a reputation for superior
holiness. The greater this reputation became, the gieatei
was the temptation to hypocrisy. The more rigorous were
their principles, the more difficult was it to act entire y up
to them, and the easier were they led to observe that with
a holv appearance they could attain the power of imposing
on the mass of the people and of ruling over them. 1 his
dominion of the Pharisees over the minds of the peop e
was nourishment for their pride, and incentive enough to
use it for selfish purposes. Like cunning priests and Je¬
suits they played with forms and phrases, they seized a
place in the hearts and consciences of men, corrupted them
even by means of pious instruction, led them whither they
would have them go, acquired many a fair prize, and became
rulers of an earthly kingdom of darkness, (btaudhn, bit-
We are not to suppose, however, that there were no in¬
dividuals in the body free from its prevailing vices. There
did not fail to be upright and pure-minded men who united
inward piety to outward correctness of conduct, and were
indeed superior to the principles of their sect ; such was
Nicodemus (John iii. 1); such also Gamaliel may have
been f \cts v. 34). Of men of this kind many were led to
enfijvace the Gospel. (Acts. xv. 5.) In the time of our
Lord there were two leading parties, that of Hillel and that
of Schammai, the former representing a "^derate Pha
saism, the latter “ the straitest sect, to which Paul had
probably belonged. (See Trium Scriptorum lllmt de trzj
bus Judceorum Seeds Syntagma, in quo R. •
Drusii, .7. Scaligeri opuscula cum aim
in Ut:rolini’s Thesaurus, vol. xxn.; also Staudlin s ^-tew
khreJesu, i. 417, sq.; Beer, Gese*. ‘“i xh'Xck
alter reliq. Sect, der Juden, Brunn, 1822 , and Iholuck,
Comm, de vi quam Grceca Philosophia ^Theologmm turn
Muhamedanor. turn Judceor. exercuent, Hamb. iooo
PHARMACOPOEIA {^appaKOV, a drug, and Troiew,
make), a book containing directions for the preparing an
compounding of medicines. Such books are usua y p
lished under the sanction of the colleges of physicians o
surgeons in the different nations of Europe.
PHARMACY {<t>dpiiaKov, a drug), the art of preparing
and compounding substances to be employed for me icina
purposes. j j i •
PHARNABAZUS, a Persian satrap, succeeded bis
father Pharnaces, in the government of the Persian pio-
vinces near the Hellespont. He first appears in history as
a devoted ally of the Spartans during the Peloponnesian
war. His troops assisted them in capturing Abydos and ph “
Lampsacus in 411 b.c. ; his aid was effectual in sheltering v
them after their defeat at Cyzicus in 410 B.c.; and for his
attachment to their cause his province was ravaged by
Alcibiades in 409 b.c. Yet, after a lapse of time, the course
of events placed Pharnabazus in hostile opposition to Ins
former friends. In 396 B.c. he defeated an invading Spartan
force under Agesilaus II. In the following year he was
routed in turn bv that monarch. The conflict thickened
immediately afterwards, when the Athenian Conon came to
his aid. The two leaders in command of a fleet scoured
the TEgean, expelling the Lacedaemonians from the ma¬
ritime towns, until, in 393 B.c., they had overwhelmed
all resistance. The rest of the life of Pharnabazus is in¬
volved in considerable obscurity. His unsuccessful expe¬
dition into Egypt, in conjunction with the Athenian general
Iphicrates, in 377 b.c., is the last action of his on record.
PHAROS, a long and narrow rock, lay oft the northern
coast of Egypt, at the distance of 7 stadia from the ancient
town of Alexandria. In early times it was merely occupied
bv the huts of a few fishermen. Yet no sooner had the
adjacent city been founded, in 332 B.C., than the island be¬
gan to assume importance. Alexander the Great turning
it into a breakwater for the harbour of his new capital,
connected it with the mainland by the Heptastadium, or
Seven-Furlong Mole. Ptolemy I. began to build on its
N.E. point the lighthouse of Pharos, which became one of
the wonders of the ancient world. (See Lighthouses.)
Meanwhile its population was steadily increasing,
length a street of houses extending along the mole formed
it into a suburb of Alexandria. Pharos retained some of
its importance till the time of Julius Caesar. After that
period it degenerated once more into a mere fishing station.
PHARSALUS (the modern Fersala), a city of A heS"
saly, was situated in the district of Thessahotis, on the left
bank of the Enipeus. Its position was peculiar y favour¬
able. A gradually ascending hill, 600 or <00 feet lug ,
formed its site; a steep precipice guarded it on three sides;
numerous springs flowing out of the declivity supplied it
with water ; and one of the most fertile valleys in Greece
lay around its base. Accordingly, from the earliest days of
Grecian history, up to the time of the Romans, it was re¬
nowned as a seat of military strength. Yet Pharsalus at¬
tained its greatest notoriety when, in 48 b.c., the two stars
of Caesar and Pompev came into collision in its neighbour¬
hood, and the fate of'the world was decided in the plain be¬
low its northern wall.
PHENE US, an ancient town in the N.E. ot Arcadia,
stood on an eminence in the middle of a plain which was 7
miles square, and which was inclosed on all sides by the ott-
sets of Mount Cyllene and of the Aroanian chain. It de¬
rived its chief celebrity from the neighbouring river Oibius
or Aroanius (the modern Foniatiko). T hat stream, after
being formed by torrents from the northern mountains, be¬
gan to flow through the plain in a straggling and undecided
course. To collect all its waters into one bed, Hercules, it
is said, dug a canal which was 50 stadia in length ant
feet in breadth. The impatient flood, however, after a lapse
of time, broke out of this artificial channel and resumed its
former wanderings. At an advanced point of its course,
finding its passage blocked up by mountains, it escaped into
subterranean channels called katavothra, and guigle J101 er
ground until it came upon the bed of the Ladon. k0™-"
times it happened that these channels became choked. 1 he
waters were then dammed up until they swamped the whole
plain, and rose to a considerable height within the rocky
basin. When at length they forced away the obstruction,
they rushed along their former course, flooding the Ladon
and the Alphseus to overflowing. Such an jnundaUoo oc¬
curred so recently as 1821, and continued till 1832. I he
Phere-
crates
II.
Phidias.
P H E
remains of Pheneus are still seen near the village of
Fonia.
PHERECRATES, an eminent writer of the old comedy,
was a native of Athens, and contemporary of Plato, Aris¬
tophanes, Phrynichus, and Enpolis. According to Suidas,
he was a soldier in his youth, but afterwards attached him¬
self to the stage, and became one of the most successful
dramatic writers. We know that he exhibited a play en¬
titled “ Savages” (vApytot), b.c. 420 (Plato, Protag. 327, d.;
Athen. v. 218, d.) He invented a species of verse, called
from his name Pherecratean, consisting of a spondee and
the two last feet of an hexameter line. Suidas attributes
seventeen plays to him, referring probably to those only
which he considered as genuine, since the titles of twenty
are found in Athenaeus. The fragments of Pherecrates
have been collected by Hertel in Vetustissimorum Comi-
corum Sententice, p. 340-57; and by Runkel, Leipzig, 1829.
Of all the fragments of Pherecrates, the most remarkable is
that entitled “ Cheiron,” in which he introduces music clad
in rags, to which state she says she has been reduced by
Melanippides, Phryoris, and Timotheus, the authors of
some innovations on that art.
PHERECYDES, a Greek philosopher of the island of
Syros, one of the Cyclades, was the son of Badys, and the
pupil of the celebrated Pittacus, of Mitylene. The exact
date of his birth and death is unknown, but he flourished
B.c. 544, being a contemporary of Thales, Anaximenes,
Anacreon, and Hipponax. There is some doubt whether
he is not the astronomer Pherecydes who constructed a
sun-dial at Syros; but as this person is said to have been
the master of Thales, it is more likely that there was an¬
other of an earlier date. The philosopher was the instruc¬
tor of Pythagoras, and is said to have foretold earthquakes
by observing the movement of water in wells (Cic. Tus. i.
16; Div. \.50). There were various accounts respecting
his death, but most are agreed that he was devoured by
worms and insects like Sylla ; and the reason assigned was,
that he had offended Apollo, because he said that he lived
very happily though he had never sacrificed to the gods.
(ASlian. V. H. iv. 28.) Pherecydes was the author of a
work on Nature and on the Gods, being the first of the
Greeks who wrote on this subject. (Diogenes Laertius,
Life of Pherecydes.) The fragments of Pherecydes have
been collected by August Wolf in the first part of his Lit-
terarische Analecten, Berlin, 1817.
Pherecydes, an historian or logographer of the island
of Leros, in the Algean Sea, is satisfactorily proved by Vos-
sius (De Hist. Greeds, p. 444) to be the same who is
called an Athenian by some. He flourished b.c. 480, in
the reign of Darius Hystaspes, and preceded Heredotus by
a few years. He is said to have made a collection of the
poems of Orpheus, to have written on the genealogy of
the gods (Theogoneia) in ten books, on the mythologi¬
cal part of the history of Athens (’Auro^oves) in ten books,
and moral maxims in hexameter verse. The fragments of
Pherecydes, along with those of Acusilaiis, have been pub¬
lished by Sturtz, Gera, 1789, 1798, 1824; also by C. and
Th. Muller, in Fragmenta Hist. Grcecorum, with a learned
dissertation.
PHIDIAS, was the son of Charmidas,and was born about
490 b.c. The facts regarding his education are few and
detached. But knowing the result of his training, we can in
a general way infer its character, and thus eke out the scanty
narrative. He began to study sculpture under a certain
Hippias, supposed by some to be the well-known Hegias;
and then under Ageladas of Argos. Nor, while under
their instruction, did he content himself with a servile ob¬
servance of stereotyped rules. His bold and vigorous
genius pursued his art into all its relations with other arts
and sciences. He acquired an experimental knowledge of
painting and pictorial effect. He was not unacquainted
P it i
507
with the principles of architecture. There was scarcely a Phidias,
department of general information into which his investigat- ^ t.-V-»P
ing mind did not wander. At the same time his soul
kindled its ardour, and nursed its creative energies, by fre¬
quent contact with the great genius of Homer. Under such
an invigorating discipline it was natural that new and en¬
larged views of the sculptor’s art should dawn upon the
mind of Phidias. Accordingly, he began to repudiate the
prevalent custom of taking a common-place figure, and
then representing it in an attitude stiff and affected, and
with a garment falling into formal geometrical lines.
The legitimate subject, he thought, should be one of the
most perfect specimens of human nature as viewed by an
imaginative mind. The bearing ought to be easy and dig¬
nified, and the drapery ought to flow in the free and ever-
varying folds of nature. Especially in the statues of the
gods was it necessary for the sculptor to rise above the
dull level of ordinary life. No dimensions could be too
grand and imposing to body forth ineffable power ; no ma¬
terials could be too costly to represent immortal health and
beauty ; no draperies could be too variegated and elaborate
to imitate the gorgeous dresses of the court of heaven.
Imagination should rise to its highest efforts in the con¬
ception, and art should lavish all its resources in the exe¬
cution. These elevated and catholic principles Phidias
set himself to establish. He carried them into practice
in a gold and ivory statue of Minerva at Pellene, in a group
of bronze statues at Delphi, and in several other works
which he executed. He also inculcated them upon a num¬
ber of pupils; and thus, in course of time, overturned the
old, and established a new school of sculpture.
About 444 B.C., Phidias, in the full maturity of his genius
and fame, entered upon the brightest part of his career. It
was then that the great Pericles chose him for his coadjutor
in the high task of raising Athens to the very climax of
beauty and magnificence. Appointed overseer of the pub¬
lic works, the sculptor was employed in superintending the
erection of the edifices on the Acropolis. The architects
Ictinus and Callicrates, several painters, and many artifi¬
cers all worked under his inspection. He himself designed
the numerous sculptures, assigned them to his pupils and to
other sculptors to be executed, and frequently gave them
the last polish with his own exquisite chisel. Under the
busy hands of so many workmen, the Parthenon rose up
perfect in form, and enriched with every kind of decoration
and device. To complete the general effect and put the
finishing stroke upon this great enterprise, the superintend¬
ent himself executed, among other images, two colossal
statues of Pallas, the presiding genius of the place. The
one, a bronze statue, represented the goddess in her war¬
like character, and was called, on that account, \\\e Athene
Promachos. Stationed on a pedestal on the summit of the
Acropolis, and rising out from among the suirounding
architecture, until she overlooked a great part of Attica, she
kept guard over the city in the attitude of a combatant.
Her left arm extended a shield, and her right hand brand¬
ished a spear, as if ready to hurl destruction at any dating
invader. Still more imposing was the statue of the same
divinity which stood within the Parthenon. Her height
was nearly 40 feet; her nude parts were made of ivory;
and her drapery and ornaments were of solid gold. She
now appeared in her character of the patron goddess of the
city. The excited air of battle had given place to the
settled attitude of calm deliberation. Her shield stood by
her left side. Her spear stood against her left shoulder.
A dragon lay coiled at her feet. With her left hand she
leant upon her shield, and with her right hand she extended
an image of victory. Nor were the decorations out of
harmony with such a noble mien. A golden sphinx in the
middle/and a golden gryphon on each side, adorned her
helmet; a string of golden serpents formed the fringe of
508
P 11 I
Phidias, her aegis ; and a golden garment flowed down to her feet,
v „ —J Qn the outer side of her shield the Amazons fought with
the Athenians; on the inner side the gods overcame the
giants; and on the base which supported the entire work,
Pandora received her graces and fascinations from the as¬
sembled divinities. In fact the eye of the spectator, while
roaming over the grand statue, and passing from the grand
statue to the magnificent expanse and painted and sculp¬
tured walls of the temple, could see nothing but what was
beautiful and harmonious in the entire scene.
The fame of this great masterpiece was still ringing
through Greece, when the Eleians, about 437 B.C., invited
Phidias to finish and decorate their temple of Jupiter
Olympius. Repairing to the plain of Olympia with Ins
scholars, he set up his studio close beside the wall of the
Altis, within hearing of the murmur of the sacred olives.
In that quiet retreat he began to execute a gold and ivory
statue of Jove 60 feet in height. After the lapse of four
vears the image was completed, was set up in the temple,
knd was found to surpass every other work of art that the
race of men had ever yet witnessed. It was seen to be a
striking embodiment of the Zeus of Homer. There, in
awful state, and with the most stupendous proportions, sat
the almighty king of the gods. There was the serene dig¬
nity of countenance which becomes the sovereign ot the
skies; there were the dark eye-brows and clustering locks
whose motion shakes the spheres; there were the shoulders
of strength which move and control the dread artillery
of heaven. With his left hand he leant upon the sceptre
of the universe, and with his right hand he extended a
winded Victory. Nor did the imagination of the artist con¬
fine itself to the figure. It also lavished its creations upon
the furniture and embellishments of the god. A chaplet
of olive crowned his brows. A robe of solid gold, garnished
with lilies and other flowers, swathed his limbs. Four
o-olden lions supported his footstool. On the back of the
throne, above his head, appeared the Hours and the
Graces. At each corner of the throne a Victory danced
upon a sphinx that was tearing a Theban youth. The
cedar throne itself was bespangled with ebony, ivory, gold,
and precious stones ; and displayed painted and sculptured
representations of the destruction of Niobe s children, the
contests of Hercules, and other exploits of the heroic age.
On the base which supported the entire fabric appeared
sculptured figures of the deities in gold, and the interesting
inscription—“ Phidias, the Athenian, son of Charmidas,
made me.” So dazzling and sublime indeed, was the ge¬
neral effect, that the Jupiter Olympius became the wonder
of the world. Its almost superhuman magnificence threw
all succeeding artists into despair, and absolutely set at de¬
fiance all competition. It seemed, according to an old epi¬
grammatist, as if Phidias had either ascended to heaven to
see Jove, or Jove had descended to earth to sit to Phidias.
Some visitors even felt themselves to be in the real pre¬
sence-chamber of the Thunderer, and expected to see him
rise from his throne, and throw off the roof of the temple
with his mighty head and shoulders.
Filled with satisfaction at his unparalleled success, rni-
dias returned to Athens in 432 B.C.,only to meetan end which
was fearfully discordant with his peaceful and illustrious
career. The aristocratic faction were then indirect y aim¬
ing at Pericles by attacking the intimate friends of that de¬
mocratic leader. The old sculptor, as a notable associate
of the great statesman, was immediately doomed to perse¬
cution. A certain Menon, who had worked in the capacity
of an underling at the Parthenon, accused him of having
appropriated the gold intended for the garment of Mineiva.
Even after this charge had been triumphantly refuted by
Phidias, who had taken the precaution of fixing on the
drapery of the goddess in such a manner that it could easily
be unloosed and weighed, his persecutors did not desist.
P II I
They arraigned him for having inserted his own portrait Phigalia
and that of Pericles in the representation of the battle be- II
tween the Athenians and the Amazons on the shield of
the same statue. This accusation was sustained, and before
the year was closed, the ill-requited Phidias died in piison.
The only extant works which retain any traces of the
delicate chisel of Phidias are the sculptures which have been
recovered of late years from the ruins of the Parthenon.
The finest specimens of these were transferred to England
by Lord Elgin in 1803, were deposited in the British Mu¬
seum in 1816, and are now known by the name of the
“ Elo-in Marbles.” (In addition to the ordinary histories of
ancient art, see Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman
Biography; and Muller’s De Phidice Vita et Openbus,
Gottingen, 1827. Quatremere de Quincy, in his Jupiter
Ohjmpien, and FI ax man, in his Lectures on Sculpture,
have attempted, with the aid of the descriptions of ancient
authors, to give drawings of the Minerva of the Parthenon
and of Jupiter Olympius.)
PHIGALIA, or Phialia, an ancient town ot Arcadia,
stood near the confines of Messenia, on the right bank ot
the small river Neda (Buzi). It is famous in history for
several contests in which it maintained its liberties against
the Spartans. But its chief celebrity is derived from a
temple which stood about 40 stadia N.E. from the city on
Mount Cotilium. That temple, a peripteral edifice of the
Doric order, was erected by Ictinus, one of the architects
of the Parthenon at Athens, and was dedicated to Apollo
Epicurins, in gratitude for the cures effected by that god
during the Peloponnesian war upon the plague-stricken
citizens. The hard yellowish-brown limestone which com¬
posed its walls and roof rendered it singularly durable. In
the times of Pausanias, it was considered the most perfect,
with one exception, of all the temples in the Peloponnesus.
It continued to remain entire long after the world had lost
all knowledge of its existence. Modern scholars discovered
it in a state of good preservation, standing deserted among
a few aged oaks on the wild and desolate mountain-side.
When the ruins were cleared away in 1812, there were found
some fine sculptured representations of the contests between
the Centaurs and the Lapithae, and between the Amazons
and the Greeks, which are now in the British Museum.
PHILADELPHIA, the second city in size and import¬
ance in the United States, is situated on the west bank of
the Delaware river, in the south-eastern part of the state or
Pennsylvania, 96 miles from the sea by way of the river
and bay of Delaware, 136 miles N.E. of Washington,
and 86 miles S.W. of New York. The geographical posi¬
tion of the Old State House, which is nearly in the centre
of the city, is 39. 57. N. Lat., and 75. 9. W. Long. The
Schuylkill river passes through the western part of the city,
and enters the Delaware 6 miles S. of the centre of the
city proper. ' ^
The closely-built portion occupies an area 4 miles in
length N. and S., and from 2£ to 4 miles in width from E.
to W., or about 12 square miles. Ihe Delaware front is
built along a curved line of 4 miles in length, the north¬
eastern part of the city lying eastward of the central watei
front. A line through the city at the narrowest part be¬
tween the two rivers is a little more than 2 miles, but W.
of the Schuylkill at this point nearly a square mile is built
up called West Philadelphia. North-westward the city
now extends 3£ miles from the City Hall, and still further
in that direction along the Schuylkill is the large suburb ot
Manayunk, 7 miles from the City Hall. Germantown, stdl
larger, is 6 miles N.N.W., and Frankford 5 miles N.N.E.
of the same point. A large number of smaller suburban
villages occupy the intermediate space, all of the area em¬
braced by the county of Philadelphia being now within the
corporate limits of the city. Before the act of consohda-
tion in 1854, the city proper occupied a space 1 mile m
PHI LABEL P H I A.
Philadel- extent N. and S., and 2 miles E. and W., between the two
phia. rivers. The districts of Southwark and Moyamensing at
the S., and of Kensington, Spring Garden, Penn Township,
and Northern Liberties, at the N., each with a distinct
municipal government, completed the organization of the
occupied portions. But as all the area was densely and
uniformly built upon, the whole was consolidated as the
city of Philadelphia in 1854 ; and the whole county formerly
so called, covering 120 square miles, was embraced in the
corporate limits. Camden and Gloucester in New Jersey,
across the Delaware river, are really part of the city also,
and contain 20,000 inhabitants.
The plan of the city, as laid out by Penn, is remarkably
regular, 10 streets being laid E. and W., and 25 streets
N. and S., crossing the first at right angles. The subse¬
quent extensions of its limits have in most cases been equally
regular. The greatest street E. and W. is High or Mar¬
ket Street, 100 feet wide; and Broad Street, N. and S.,
is 113 feet wide ; the remaining principal streets being 50
to 66 feet in width. Five squares, in central positions and^
equidistant, were reserved for parks in the original plan ot
the city, to which Independence Square has since been
added, near the State-House, and several squares in the
newer parts of the city, with pleasure-grounds and parks,
are now in preparation.
The surface occupied by the city is remarkably level,
rising, however, in the northern suburbs, into hills ot 90
to 150 feet above tide. Between the rivers the plain rises
regularly about 45 feet above tide ; but from most points of
view the city and site appear a perfect plain. The Fair-
mount Reservoir, 100 feet high, and the Girard College
Observatory, 160 feet high, afford the best views. In the
original condition of the Delaware front, a stream, in which
shipping could lie, intruded into the city along the space
now built over as Dock Street; and a bluff bank along the
Delaware was designed as a broad, open levee. Phis was
densely built upon after Penn’s death. The streets are
well paved with granite blocks for the principal business
streets in the eastern part, and with rubble stone generally ;
the sidewalks being mostly brick, with some flagging of
sandstone. Drainage to both rivers is easy ; and the subsoil
is gravel, facilitating cleanliness and dryness. No Ameri¬
can city has so great an extent of clean, well-paved, and well-
kept streets, capable at any moment of being flooded from
the water reservoirs, and perfectly drained by the sewers.
The predominating material for building is brick, with,
in houses of three and four storeys, marble facings. With¬
in a few years greater variety in styles and material has
been introduced ; and marble, sandstone, and iron have
been largely used. The great business streets—Market,
Chesnut, and Walnut Streets—now exhibit very fine build¬
ings for business purposes, erected within ten or fifteen
years. These streets are now rapidly becoming occupied,
westward from the Delaware, by the finer buildings of this
character; while elegant buildings for residences are ex¬
tending west of Broad Street and in the northern part of
the city. Several superior marble structures were erected
many years since in the older part of the city. The first
United States bank, now the Girard Bank, is of marble, in
Corinthian style, erected in 1797. ihe second United
States bank building in Chesnut Street, now the custom¬
house, is a noble specimen of Doric architecture, which,
at the time of its erection, cost L.100,000. Ihe United
States Mint, farther west in Chesnut Street, is a fine marble
building in the Grecian style. The State-House, mostly of
brick, and having no high pretensions to architectural
beauty, occupies a central square in Chesnut Street, and is
the principal point of interest to strangers, in consequence
of its historical association, the provincial Congress having
held its sessions here. The national independence was
declared here, July 4, 1776, and for the greater portion of
the time subsequently to the year 1800, the national govern¬
ment remained here. Most of the buildings are now occu¬
pied by the various departments of the city government, ^
the Hall of Independence alone being unused, and kept
as a place for the preservation of historical relics. Girard
College is a magnificent marble structure of Grecian
architecture, about 2 miles N.W. of the City Hall. A co¬
lonnade of 34 Corinthian columns, 6 feet in diameter, and
55 feet high, surrounds a cella 169 feet long by 111 feet
wide; the whole forming a building 218 feet long by 160
wide, and 97 feet high. The whole, with the roof, is of
white marble ; and this one building cost at its erection
L.200,000. The inclosing wall contains 41 acres, and
the embellishments, with the remaining buildings of this
great charity, cost L.194,546 more. Among the recent
buildings are superb banks, churches, hotels, and mercan¬
tile structures, built of marble, granite, sandstone, and iron.
The Academy of Music, a new sandstone building, is the
largest opera-house in the United States, being 238 by 140
feet. Several fine structures are devoted to charitable and
scientific purposes; among them the Pennsylvania Hospi¬
tal, the Blockley Almshouse, the United States Naval
Asylum, the Franklin Institute, the Athenaeum, the Phila¬
delphia and Mercantile libraries, &c.
The city is well supplied with water and gas. The Fair-
mount Water-Works, on the Schuylkill, elevate 1,500,000
gallons in twenty-four hours 92 feet, to reservoirs con¬
structed on a rocky bluff, from which the greater part of the
city is supplied. Separate reservoirs, into which water is
elevated from the Schuylkill and the Delaware by steam-
power, supply the northern part of the city. The Fairmount
works cost L.687,500, and the others about L.83,000. Gas
is supplied to every part of the city by extensive public
works, in one of which there is a gasometer 140 feet in
diameter, and in another, one 90 feet high and 160 feet in
diameter, with others of less size.
The charitable institutions of the city are, first, the
Pennsylvania Hospital, centrally placed, but with a branch
for the insane 2 miles distant. Both departments to¬
gether have relieved 65,000 patients since their foundation
in 1752; both occupy extensive buildings, those in the
city covering a fine square, and being kept in superior
order. Ten medical men are in daily attendance, four of
whom are surgeons. There are four dispensaries in thereby,
the Pennsylvania Institution for the Instruction of the Blind,
a lying-in charity, a widows’ asylum, an orphans asylum (a
temporary house of great usefulness), the Pennsylvania Deaf-
and-Dumb Asylum, a city pest hospital, three Magdalen
asylums, a coloured orphans’ asylum, a home for friendless
children, and a large number of other noble and special
Ch Institutions of learning are numerous: the Girard Col¬
lege for orphans has 7 professors and oOO beneficiaries,
the university of Pennsylvania, 12 professors, 129 literary
and 450 medical students; Jefferson Medical College has
514 students; Pennsylvania College, 160 students; and se¬
veral less important colleges exist. Lhe scientific societies
embrace the American Philosophical Society, the oldest and
most distinguished in the United States with a large hbrary
and hi-h historical associations; the Academy of Natural
Sciences, with a fine building and valuable collections ; the
Franklin Institute, which has a library and building, and
publishes a monthly journal; the Athenaeum, and others.
The educational system of the city is organized separately
from that of the state generally; a system of graduated
schools being established, with a high school of collegiate
grade at the head, to which all may aspire. There were in
1857, 157 primary, 47 secondary, 45 unclassified, 55 gram¬
mar, one normal, and one high school, in this system;
a total of 306 schools, with 57,521 pupils, and 78 male
and 877 female teachers. In the High School there are
509
Philadel¬
phia.
510
PHILADELPHIA.
Philadel- 10 professors and 534 pupils, and it has had at an ave-
phia. rao-e over 500 pupils since its foundation in IHoc . g
tofal cost of this system for 1857 was L.100,963. It is
under the direction of a body of comptrollers, 24 in number,
one being elected from each ward. There are many pri¬
vate schools of high rank, and a very large number are
sustained by religious and other associations.
The manufacturing industry of the city is more exten¬
sive than that of any other in the United States, at least
one-half its population of 600,000 being so supported, by
the census of 1850, there was reported as employed in
manufactures as capital, L.7,028,731 ; and as labourers,
43,296 men, and 15,803 women ; yielding products valued
at L.13,357,106. Investigations subsequently undertaken
by the Board of Trade and others interested in the city,
showed that many departments were greatly underrated by
this census ; and it is concluded that the total production
for the year closing with June 1857, cannot be less than
L 27 000,000. The leading manufactures are of cotton
and woollen cloths and other textile fabrics, for which there
are 98 factories within the city limits, working 3000 hand-
looms, 7000 power-looms, 150 sets of wool cards, 7o0 cot¬
ton cards, 40,000 woollen spindles, and 135,000 cotton
spindles. These establishments employ 8700 work-people,
male and female, exclusive of the hand-loom weavers, and
others outside the mills. The production of this depart¬
ment of manufacture for the year named was L.4,166,000;
and the capital invested is calculated at L.5,800,000. . 1 he
next in importance is the iron manufacture, which, in a
its forms, employed 10,000 workmen within die city, and
produced an aggregate value of about L.3,125,000 for the
same year. The manufactures next in importance are,
books and stationery, chemicals and drugs, manufactures
of silver and the precious metals, clothing and hats, paper
and paper-hangings, leather and manufactures of leather,
malt and distilled liquors, &c., each of which makes up the
value of one to two millions sterling annually. Carriages,
furniture, glass and glass wares, mirrors and upholstery,
&c., are also produced in large quantities. A .very consi¬
derable amount of grain is here converted into flour for
consumption and for exportation.
The commerce of Philadelphia embraces all the foreign
commerce of the state, and is represented in the statistics
given for Pennsylvania. It has a water front on the Dela¬
ware of 4 miles in length, with a depth at the wharf line of
14 to 54 feet, constituting extraordinary capacity for ship¬
ping. Valuable wharf accommodation exists in the Schuyl¬
kill for more than a mile in length on the western side of the
city. The shipping of the port of Philadelphia amounted
to the following aggregates of registered and licensed ton¬
nage for the years named :—
Years. Tons.
1850   206,498
1851   222,429
1852   229,443
1853   252,451
value L.651,351
164,631
371,410
32,537
51,817
7,536
10,406
Years. Tons.
1854   268,746
1855   294,807
1856   197,228
1857   211,381
Lines of steam-ships run to New York, Boston, Savan¬
nah, Charleston, and other ports. One to Liver pool,^esta¬
blished in 1851, was temporarily discontinued in 18o<. A
line of superior packet-ships to Liverpool was among the
first lines from the United States to Europe, and it is now
in the best condition of efficiency. A vast coasting trade
is conducted from this port in coal, produce, and domestic
goods. In 1852, 9993 vessels with coal left this port for
the coasting and foreign trade ; and in 1854, 8152 vessels,
carrying 1,411,731 tons of coals, loaded at the suburb ol
Richmond; while 571,081 tons were taken from the Schuyl¬
kill wharves. An extensive trade to California exists, the
exports thither in 1853 reaching L.461,500. The trade of
this port with the West Indies and with South America now
constitutes the largest department of its foreign commerce,
except the Liverpool trade. Of the total value, L.3,718.880, Philadel-
imported in the year ending with June 1857, the follow- phb.
ing proportions were mostly tropical
Sugar   58,137,504 lb.,
Molasses  3,137,011 galls.,
Coffee  18,823,714 lb.,
Salt  1,101,567 bush.,
Tobacco and cigars 
Indigo  47,037 lb.,
Tropical fruits  .
A very extensive internal trade is carried on by the
canals and railroads leading to New York ; by the great
coal roads and canals reaching the city from the north; by
the southern tow-boat and railroad lines; and by the Penn¬
sylvania Central Railroad, and other lines to the west. Much
of the import trade of the city enters the custom-house of
New York, and the goods are brought over the New Jersey
roads and canals without breaking bulk. Very large quan¬
tities of domestic exports are sent abroad by the same
lines ; and the apparent decline in the direct foreign trade
and shipping of the port is but a transfer to the poit of
New York as a more convenient entrepot. The actual
export and import trade of the city ot Philadelphia is
rapidly increasing. The tonnage transportation of one in¬
ternal line, the Pennsylvania Railroad, for 1857, was 92,660
tons westward, and 205,500 tons eastward ; the first of
package and dry goods mainly, and the second of hemp,
wool, grain, and other agricultural produce. The great
coal roads bring an immense tonnage, both for consumption
and for exportation. .
The consolidated city of Philadelphia is divided into 24
wards, two or three being mainly suburban, and embracing
the area formerly called the county. I he government is
bv a mayor, elected for two years; a select council of 24
members, elected for the same period ; and a common coun¬
cil of 72 members, elected annually. The police organi¬
zation is made up of one chief, 8 high constables, 16 lieu¬
tenants, 32 sergeants, 615 regular police, and 37 special
officers and reserved corps—a total force of 708. 1 here aie
16 aldermen or police magistrates; the remaining judicial
organization being that of the state.
The city possesses a very large productive property in
water and gas works, real estate in fee and in trust, with
stocks and bonds in addition to the value of L.2,190,000,
only about half of which is at present fully productive.
The aggregate debt of the city is L.4,168,500, for the laiger
share of which sinking funds are established, leaving but
about L.730,000, for the interest on which provision is re¬
quired to be made by taxation. The sum expended for all
city purposes in 1857 was L.868,802 ; of which L.320,840
was for repayment of loans and for interest; L.87,284
for police; L.85,109 for highways, sewers, and bridges ;
L.54,916 for the poor; L.90,361 for administration of
lighting and water departments ; and L.100,872 for the sup¬
port of the city public schools.
There are in Philadelphia 12 daily newspapers, 39
weekly newspapers, and 48 periodicals published monthly,
bi-monthly, and quarterly. There are in the city 17
banks, with an aggregate capital of L.2,357,725, which had,
June 1858, in specie, L.1,469,831 ; in circulating notes,
L.497,476 ; and in loans and discounts, L.4,957,517. I here
are also 15 saving fund banks not issuing notes; 18 fire
insurance companies chartered by the state ; 29 fire and
marine and fire and life, and 5 marine insurance companies.
Most of the coal, iron, and navigation companies of the
eastern part of the state have their offices in the city.
A system of city railroads was begun in 1857, which
will soon supersede the local conveyance by omnibuses, for
which over 600 vehicles were employed in 1857. The level
nature of the city facilitates the construction of passenger
railways, with cars drawn by horses; and ten distinct com-
PHI
PHI 511
Philadel- panies are now chartered, and are placing railroad tracks
phia along most of the principal streets, by which, at a, cost not
11 exceeding five cents, passengers are conveyed, in a low
Philemon. noiseiess carriage, any distance within the city.
The population of Philadelphia exceeded that of any
other America city previous to 1830. It is now second
only to New York. The following were the numbers at
the several decennial enumerations:—
1777 21,767
1790 42,520
1800 70,287
1810 96,287
1820.. . 119,325
1830.. . 167,325
1840 258,037
1850 408,962
1858 (calculated) 620,000
The increase in the number of voters and of taxable in¬
habitants indicates a larger population than that assigned
for 1858. In 1850 there were 121,699 persons of foreign
birth, of whom 72,312 were born in Ireland, 22,750 in
Germany, 17,500 in England, 3291 in Scotland, and 1981
in France. The number of coloured persons was 19,761.
At the election for president in 1856, 70,198 votes were
cast, and at that for mayor in May 1858, 62,839.
Philadelphia (the modern Allahsher), an ancient city
in the east of Lydia, owed its origin and its name to At¬
tains Philadelphus, King of Pergamus. It was situated
between the southern bank of the river Cogamus and the
north-western side of Mount Tmolus. The city makes no
small figure in history. Strabo narrates that it was famous
for being frequently shaken by earthquakes. In the Apo¬
calypse it is mentioned as one of the “ seven churches of
Asia.” It was also notable in more modern times for hold¬
ing out against the Turks till 1390, after all the other
cities of Asia Minor had surrendered. The only remark¬
able remains of the ancient Philadelphia are the ruins of a
church.
PHILA2, an island in the river Nile, celebrated for its
ancient ruins. (See Egypt.)
PHIL/ENI (TAatVot. lovers, of praise), two Carthaginian
brothers, are celebrated in ancient legends for their pa¬
triotism. The following is the account of their exploits, as
given by Sallust:—It happened that the Carthaginians and
the Cyrenians were involved in a bloody and indecisive
war regarding the boundary between their respective ter¬
ritories. At" length, when they had nearly exterminated
each other, without settling the dispute, they mutually
consented to try a simpler mode. They agreed that, at
the same moment of time, a pair of deputies should set out
from Carthage to Cyrene, and another pair from Cyrene
to Carthage, and that the spot where the two pairs should
meet should be considered the boundary between the two
countries. It was then that the Philseni, being chosen to
represent Carthage, appeared in the characters of devoted
patriots. Hastening eastward, and panting over the toil¬
some deserts with deathless ardour, they passed the middle
distance, and meeting their opponents at a place far on the
other side, claimed that advanced spot as the limit of their
country’s possessions. An altercation ensued ; accusations
of having started before their time were brought against
them ; but they remained immoveable. Their determina¬
tion at last became so invincible that, rather than bate a
step of ground, they consented there and then to be buried
alive in the sand, and to make their graves the land-marks
between the two nations. The fearful proposal was carried
into execution ; and long afterwards, two altars erected over
their resting-place, and called the “ altars of the Philseni,
preserved their memory, and formed the boundai'y of the
territories of Carthage.
PHILEMON, a Greek dramatist, who stands next to
Menander among the poets of the new comedy, was born
at Soli in Cilicia about 360 B.C., and settled in Athens at
an early age. His career seems to have been singularly
prosperous. The lively wit and practical good sense of
his plays soon introduced him to popular favour. In many
a dramatic contest, he carried off the palm from his abler
rival Menander. He continued to write on, free from the
troubles and ills of life, until he had produced ninety-seven
comedies, and passed beyond the age of ninety. His sun¬
shine even remained till the last, for he is said to have died
laughing at a ludicrous incident. The few extant frag¬
ments of Philemon’s plays are inserted in all the principal
editions of Menander. (See Menander.)
Philemon, Epistle to. That this Epistle was written
by the apostle Paul is the constant tradition of the ancient
church. It is expressly cited as such by Origen [Homil.
XIX. in Jerom., tom. i., p. 185, ed. Huet.); it is referred
to as such by Tertullian [Nov. Marc. v. 21); and both
Eusebius {Hist. Eccles. iii. 25) and Jerome {Proem, in
Ep. ad Philem., tom. iv., p. 442) attest its universal recep¬
tion as such in the Christian world. It was most probably
written during the apostle’s two years’ imprisonment at
Rome. It w as occasioned by his sending back to Philemon
his runaway slave Onesimus, who, having found his way
to Rome, was there, through the instrumentality of the
apostle, converted to Christianity; and after serving Paul
for a season, was by him restored to his former master,
without whose consent the apostle did not feel at liberty
to retain him. This Epistle has been universally admired
as a model of graceful, delicate, and manly writing.
Of separate commentaries on this Epistle, the following
is nearly a complete list:—Eichhorn’s Einleit. ins N. T.
iii. 300; Henr. Hummel, Explanatio Ep. Ap. Pauli ad
Philem., Tiguri, 1670, fob; Lehr. Ch. Gottlieb Schmid,
Pauli Ap. ad Philem. Ep. Gr. et Lat. Illustr. et ut Exem-
plum Humanitatis Pauli Proposita, Lips. 1786, 8vo;
Konrad Rudolf Hagenbach, Pauli Ep. ad Philem. Inter-
pretatus est, Basil, 1829, 4to; W. Attersol, Commentary
upon the Ep. to Philem., Lond. 1633, 4to; and Davidson’s
Introduction to the Xew Testament, London, 1848.
PHILIP, the name oljive kings of Macedonia, the most
celebrated of whom was Philip II., father of Alexander the
Great. (See Macedonia.)
Philip, the name of jive kings of Spain, of whom the
most noted was Philip IL, who projected the conquest of
England by means of the Invincible Armada, was the son
of the Emperor Charles V. and of Isabella of Portugal,
and was born at Valladolid on the 21st of May 152/. He
became king of Naples aud Sicily on his fkthei s abdication
in 1554; succeeded to the Spanish throne on the 17th
January 1556; was married in succession to the Princess
Mary of Portugal in 1543, to Mary, Queen of England, in
1554, to the Princess Elizabeth of France, daughter of
Henry IL, in 1559, and to the Archduchess Anne of Aus¬
tria in 1571. This cruel bigot died at Madrid on the 13th
September 1598. (For information respecting his life and
career, see Spain.)
PHILIPPE, the name of six kings of France, (for an
account of each, see France.) ...
PHILIPPEVILLE, a town of Algeria, in the province
of Constantine, stands at the head of the Gulf of Stora, _35
miles W. of Bona. It is quite a modern town, having
been built in 1838, and has straight and regular streets,
lined with handsome houses. It is defended by a citadel
and four forts, built on eminences in the vicinity. It is built
in a great measure of the ruins of the ancient Eusicada,
which occupied the site of Stora, not far off. Phihppeville
is connected with Constantine by a good road. Pop. (almost
entirely Europeans) 8050. <
PHILIPPI, a city of Macedonia, was situated eastward
of Amphipolis, within the limits of ancient Thrace. (Acts
xvi. 12 ; xx. 6 ; Phil. i. 1.) It was anciently called KpijvtSes,
from its many fountains; but having been taken and forti¬
fied by Philip of Macedon, he named it, after himself,
Philippi- In the vicinity were mines of gold and silver;
and the spot eventually became celebrated for the battle in
Philemon
II
Philippi.
512
P H I
PHI
Philippians which Brutus and Cassius were defeated. Paul made some
F stay in this place on his first arrival in Greece, and here
Philippines founded the church to which he afterwards addresse on
'  7 of his Epistles. It was here that the interesting circum¬
stances related in Acts xvi. occurred; and the city was
again visited by the apostle on his departure from Greece.
(Acts xx. 6.) In the former passage (xvi. 12) 1 Mippijs
called a colony (koWV) ; and this character it had in tact
acquired through many of the followers of Antony having
been colonized thither by Augustus (Dion. Cass. xWn. 432).
The ruins of Philippi have not been much visited by
travellers; but an interesting account of them may be
found in the American Missionanj Herald, by the mis
sionaries Dwight and Schauffler, who were ^ ^
The most prominent of the ex.sting remains is the remain¬
der of a palatial edifice, the architecture of which is grand,
and the materials costly. ,
PHIEIPPIANS, Epistle to the. Or this part ot tne
apostle Paul’s writings the authenticity has never been
questioned. It is referred to formaHy and expressly y
Polycarp, in his Epistle to the Philippians (§§ 3, 11), be¬
sides being repeatedly quoted by him. It is quoted by t e
churches at Vienne and Lyons, in their letter to the churches
in Asia and Phrygia, preserved by Eusebms (Hist. Eccles.
v 2); by Irenaeus {Cont. H&r. iv. 18, § 4) ; by Clement of
Alexandria {Pcedag., lib. i, p. 107Strom, iv, p. 511;
Admon. ad Gentes, p. 56) ; by Tertulhan (.De Hesur.Car-
nis, c. 23); by Origen (Co^ C^;, hb. m., p. 122, ed.
Spencer; et scepiss^', by Cyprian {Lib. Testim. m. 39),
and by many of the later fathers.
From allusions in the Epistle itself, it .s evident that it
was written at Rome during the period of the apostle s two
years imprisonment in that city, and in all P/obfihty to¬
wards the close of that period (i. 13, 14,23, 26 , n. 18, 25).
This Epistle is written throughout in a very animated and
elevated style. It is full of the most sublime thoughts and
the most affectionate exhortations. It resembles more the
production of a father addressing his children, than that ot
kn apostle laying down authoritatively what is to be r
ceived and followed. The whole of it shows, as Theophy-
lact observes, how very much he loved and estimated those
to whom it was addressed. {Proem, in Ep. ad Phil)
The chief commentaries upon this Epistle are the following
M. H. Schotanus, Analys. et Comment, in Ep Pauli ad
observationibus et earum usibus, Franc. 1637, , ’
Am Ends, P«»ii Ep. ad Phil Gr. «
Lat. et annot. perpet. Must., Yitemb. 1798, 8vo G. ^
wald, Commentar. ub. d. Brief Pauli an die Philipp., Berl n 18.7,
gvo • Konrad Steph. Matthies, Erklarung d. Bnefes Pauli an d.
Phil Greifswold, 1835, 8vo; Hermann Gustav. Holemann, ^om-
nd’ phii Lips 1839 ; Wessel Alh von Hengel, Com¬
ment. m Ep. ad mil., mps. > iqqq. A Hilliet Com¬
ment, perpetuus in Ep. Pauli ad Phi ^ ta , ’ ‘ g
mentaire sur VEpitre de VApotre Paul aux Phil., Geneva, 1841, »vo.
In English the works of Pearce and Ferguson may be mentioned,
IL ,! tglUb translation of “'JAnSh “iSM »T0T
in “ Clark’s Foreign Theological Library.
PHILIPPICS is a name applied to the orations of De¬
mosthenes against Philip, King of Mace on. oratoPr>
pics are reckoned the masterpieces o ia g
(See Demosthenes.) This name is likewise applied to the
fourteen orations of Cicero against Marc Antony.
PHILIPPINES, The (Span. JslasPilipinas), a group
of islands in the Pacific Ocean, belonging to the Indian
Archipelago. They lie between N. Lat. 5.32. and 19. 38., .
Long. 117. and 127., being bounded on the N. and E. by
the Pacific, S. by the seas of Celebes and Sooloo, and W.
by the China Sea. The form of the group is triangular ,
and the total number of the islands, large and sma , is, a
the lowest estimate, 1200. Of these the largest an mos
important are the following:—Luzon (by far the largest o
the whole), Mindoro, Panay, Negros, Zebu, Bohol, Leyte,
Samar, Masbate, Mindanao, and Palawan. The smaller Philippines
islands in the centre of the group, between Luzon and v 
Mindanao, are known by the name of the Bisayan Islands.
The area of the whole group is estimated at more than
120 000 square miles. The outline of most of the islands
is very irregular, as they are generally indented by arms of
the sea, which stretch far into the land, and the surface of
all is more or less mountainous ; some of the heights being
very considerable. A chain of volcanoes traverses the group,
and dangerous eruptions are frequent. Among the moun¬
tains lie valleys and plains of great richness and beauty ;
while numerous lakes and rivers diversify the face rf the
land, and facilitate the internal communications. 1 here
are also extensive marshes and mosses in these islands.
Their structure is throughout volcanic. Many of the moun¬
tains abound in metals. Gold is found in the sand of the
rivers. Ironstone, containing a large proportion of iron,
and copper of an excellent quality, are also obtained. Seve¬
ral of the islands contain coal, limestone, marble, and odiei
minerals ; while an almost inexhaustible supply of sulphur
may be obtained from the volcanoes. The climate of the
Philippines is tropical and very hot; but the heat is tempered
by the continual moisture, which contributes very much to
the fertility of the soil. Extending, however, as they do, over
an extensive region of the earth’s surface, it necessarily
varies at different parts. The same alternation of seasons
prevails here as in other tropical countries, the year being
divided into a rainy and a dry season. The former begins
with the month of May, and continues till the end of Oc¬
tober or beginning of November. During this period the
fall of rain is very great, frequently continuing twelve or
fourteen days without intermission. In many places the
low and marshy regions are laid under water. I he northern
part of Luzon is subject to the tremendous stornas called
typhoons, which occur between ^ay and December; but
they are seldom experienced south of 14. N. Lat. Eait
quakes occur frequently, as well as volcanic eriiPtions ; and
at times they are very destructive in their effects. I he
soil is in general extremely rich; and the products, of t e
islands are numerous and varied. The mountains are
covered with forests of large trees, which yield timber use¬
ful for the building of ships and houses. Sapan-wood
{Ccesalpinia Sapan), which produces a good red dye; the
mastic tree {Pistacia Lentiscus), the cocoa and palm {Cocos
nucifera), the sago palm {Sagus), the bread-fruit tree(^'
tocarpus incisa), the banana {Musa sapientum), and other
trees valuable for their fruits or other productions, grow in
the islands with more or less cultivation. Among the crops
raised, the most important is rice, which furnishes the cine
article of food to the inhabitants. It is grown in large
quantities for exportation, as well as for home use; and the
marshy nature of a great part of the soil is not unfavour¬
able to its growth. The sugar-cane is grown to a large
and increasing extent, and the sugar is of an excellent
quality; tobacco, coffee, hemp, cotton, mdigo,pepper, cloves,
and cassia, as well as maize, wheat, yams, sweet potatoes,
and various fruits, are cultivated. Among the animals, one
of the most important is the buffalo, which is found m a
wild state, and is domesticated and used for ploughing,
and as a beast of burden. A breed of small but hardy
horses has been introduced by the Spaniards: they are
only used for riding. A small number of sheep, numerous
goats, pigs, ducks, and other tame fowls, are also reared
The only rapacious animal is the crocodile, which is
found in most of the rivers and lakes. Fish are nume¬
rous on the coasts; and pearl oysters are obtained!
large quantities. The forests and jungles are filled with
many species of wild birds,—such as eagles, herons,
creepers, and parrots; and the swallow which makes the
edible nests used by the Chinese, haunts these islands.
Monkeys, wild cats, and small foxes are among the qu
PHI
P II I
513
Philippines
rupeds of the Philippines. The natives of the islands be¬
long to several tribes, differing considerably from eacj^ other.
The mountains are occupied by the Negritos, a diminutive
Papuan race, who are said to have originally possessed the
whole of the islands, but have been displaced and driven to
the mountains by the Malays from the adjacent countiies.
These latter are now the predominant population of the
Philippines. They consist chiefly of two classes^—the
Tagals in Luzon, and the Bisayans in the other islands.
Each of these speak a different language; and there are
also several subordinate dialects. 1 hese people have for the
most part acknowledged the supremacy ol the Spaniards, and
adopted the Roman Catholic religion, while the inhabitants
of the mountains preserve their independence. Besides
these races, the islands contain a comparatively small num¬
ber of Spaniards; of Mestizos, or half-castes, who are largely
engaged in commerce ; and a considerable number of
Chinese, who have recently settled here. The manufac¬
tures are not very numerous or important. "V arious textile
fabrics, from the coarsest to the finest materials, are woven
by the w'omen ; straw hats and cordage are made ; and the
building of ships and coaches is carried on. 1 he manufac¬
ture of cigars and cheroots, for which the islands are famous,
is a government monopoly, and at Manilla employs a large
number of hands. Commerce is extensively and actively
carried on here, although neither encouraged by the Spanish
government, nor promoted by Spanish enterprise. Indeed,
were it not for the cheapness and excellence of the pro¬
duce, and the advantageous situation of these colonies, the
prohibitions and restraints imposed by the mother country
would have quite checked the commercial development of
the Philippines. The principal articles exported are sugar,
tobacco, cigars, indigo, hemp, coffee, dyewoods, hides, and
gold dust; while cotton, woollen, and silk stuffs, agricultural
instruments, clocks, watches, jewellery, &c., are imported.
The trade is chiefly in the hands of British houses; and in
1856 the value of the imports from Great Britain amounted
to L. 1,575,000, and that of the exports to L.1,370,000.
Next to Great Britain, the United States have the largest
trade with the Philippines; and there are commercial rela¬
tions with France, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, China, the
Sandwich Islands, and Chile. I he entire amount of the
trade export and import of the islands is estimated at
L.5,700,000, of which L.3,000,000 belong to Great Britain
and its dependencies, and L. 1,000,000 to the United States.
The supreme authority, civil and military, is in the hands
of a governor-general, appointed by the crown, who resides
at Manilla, the capital. He is commander-in-chief of the
forces, and president of the supreme court of law, and is
assisted by a ministry. The islands are divided into pro¬
vinces, each under a governor appointed by the crown ; and
these again \nto pueblos or townships, with mayors elected
by the people. The revenue is made up by the monopoly
of cigars, a poll tax on the people, and duties on exports
and imports. The dominions of the governor-general of the
Philippines include also the Bashee and Babuyan islands, to
the north of Luzon, and the Ladrones, which lie a long dis¬
tance to the west. The entire population of the group is
estimated at 5,000,000.
These islands were discovered in 1521 by Magalhaens,
who named them the Archipelago of St Lazarus. In
1565 they were taken possession of by a fleet which was
despatched from Mexico, in consequence of orders from
Philip II. of Spain, and first stopped at the island of Zebu,
which was soon wholly subdued. In 1570 a fleet sailed
from the island of Panay for Luzon, and after several en¬
gagements with the princes of the country, effected a settle¬
ment on the Bay of Manilla. In 1571 the Spanish admiral
took possession of the town of Manilla, which he consti¬
tuted the capital of the Spanish possessions in the Philip¬
pines (so named after Philip II.), and proceeded in his re-
Philips.
duction of the island under the Spanish authority. To- philippo-
wards the conclusion of the sixteenth century a considerable p°lis
trade was openly carried on with Japan; and many rich
cargoes were brought from that country to Manilla, which
had now become an emporium of the trade with China, ~
Java, the coast of Coromandel, and Mexico. In 1590 the
island of Sooloo was attacked by the Spaniards, but they
were repulsed with great slaughter by the natives; nor
could the Spanish maritime force make any impression on
the Sooloo pirates, who continued for nearly three centuries
the scourge of these seas. In 1762 Manilla was attacked
by the British under Admiral Cornish and General Draper,
and the place was stormed on the 5th of October. A
capitulation was agreed upon next day, when, in order to
redeem the city from general plunder, a ransom was agreed
upon of one million sterling. Manilla was restored to the
Spaniards at the peace of 1763, and has ever since remained
in their possession. Besides Manilla and the larger esta¬
blishments in Luzon, the Spaniards have many smaller settle¬
ments scattered over the islands to the southward ; but they
were long unable to protect them against the attacks of the
pirates who infest these seas. In 1851, however, the
governor-general sent an expedition against the Sooloo
islands with a view to putting a stop to these attacks. In
this he proved successful, having destroyed the power of the
Sultan of Sooloo, and formed a settlement in the principal
island.
PHILIPPOPOLIS (Turkish Filibe or Felibe), a town
of European Turkey, in the province of llumilia, on the Ma-
ritza, 86 miles W.N.W. of Adrianople. It stands in a
beautiful and fertile region, producing wine and rice; and
contains fine mosques, caravanserais, khans, and numerous
public baths. Leather, silk, and cotton fabrics are manu¬
factured here. Philippopolis is the chief place of trade for
the northern provinces of Turkey. The Maritza is navigable
up to this town. A few remains of antiquity are still to be
seen here ; and the old church is pointed out in which Paul
is said to have preached. 1 he ancient town was founded
by Philip, the father of Alexander the Great; but it after¬
wards fell into the hands of the Thracians, who retained it
until the Roman conquest. It was almost destroyed by an
earthquake in 1818, and again laid waste by a terrible
conflagration in 1846. About half of the inhabitants aie
Greeks. Pop. 30,000.
PHILIPS, Ambrose, an English poet of some note in
his day, was descended from an old Leicestershire farm y,
and was born about 1671. He was educated at St John s
College, Cambridge, where he took Ins master s degree in
1700, and where, four years before, he printed a copy of
English verses on the death of Queen Mary, in the collec¬
tion published by the university. Little is known of his
career till the year 1709, when six pastorals appeared from
his pen, published along with Pope s in lonsons Miscel¬
lany. During the same year Philips wrote his poetical
Letter from Copenhagen, addressed to the Duke of Loiset.
It appeared in the Taller, with a laudatory criticism from
Richard Steele, and Pope spokeof it as the production of a
man “ who could write very nobly. Meanwhile Philips
contrived to support himself by translating the Persian
Tales from the French for Tonson, and by empitomizing
Hacket’s Life of Archbishop Williams. In 1712 he brought
upon the stage his tragedy of the Distrest Mother, which,
although little more than a translation of Racine s Andro-
maque yet was received with rapturous applause, particu¬
larly from all trusty Whigs. The Spectator took an entire
number to herald its advent, and after its appearance
another Spectator was written “ to tell what impression it
made upon Sir Roger;” and, to crown all, Addison, in the
name of Budgell, wrote an epilogue for it, which, according
to Johnson, was “the most successful epilogue that was
ever yet spoken on the English theatre.” {Lives of Brit.
3 T
VOL. XVII.
514
P II I
Philips
Poets.) To have a rival, and a Whig too, thus puffed into
„ fame, was too much for the forbearance of Pope, who, not
Philistines, content with whispering something about “ packed audi-
ences” into the ear of his friend Spence, resolved, by an
unexampled artifice of irony, to strip Philips of his laurels.
A short time before Addison had bestowed high Prais£
the “ admirable pastorals and winter-piece” of Philips both
in the Spectator and Guardian. Pope, under a guise ot
favourable criticism, put a paper into the hands of the guile¬
less Steele, which he inserted in the fortieth number of the
Guardian. This piece turned out, however, to be h led
with the most subtle irony and covert mockery of I hi lips
pastorals, while written with the apparent design of magni¬
fying their superiority to Pope’s own. Ihe open feud
which ensued between the two poets was never healed.
Philips, by threatening to cane Pope, kept him out ot his
wav, but the satirist sought his revenge by garnishing the
Art of Sinking in Poetry with the choicest specimens of
his rival’s verse. Again, when Philips attempted to culti¬
vate simplicity and ease in neat little verses, with very short
lines and rather childish thoughts, Pope joined Henry
Carey in calling it “namby-pamby.” In 1722 Philips
produced the tragedies of The Briton, and Humphrey, Duke
of Gloucester, which are now forgotten. His happiest un¬
dertaking was a periodical called the Free-Thinker, in which
one of his associates was Dr Boulter; who, upon his being
made archbishop of Armagh, took Philips with him, and
got him a seat in the Irish Parliament. In 1726 he was
made secretary to the lord chancellor, and in 1733 had
risen to be judge of the Prerogative Court in Ireland.
Having resigned in 1748, he returned to London, where he
died on the 18th of June 1749.
Philips, John, an English poet of some eminence, was
born in 1676. He was educated at Winchester and Oxford,
where he became acquainted with the works of Milton, whom
he studied with great application, and traced in all his success¬
ful translations from the ancients. The first poem by which
he distinguished himself was his Splendid Shilling, which
in the Tatler is styled the “finest burlesque poem in the
English language.” His next was entitled Blenheim,
which was written at the request ot the Earl of Oxford and
Mr Henry St John, afterwards Lord Bohngbroke, on the
victory obtained by the Duke of Marlborough m the year
1704. It was published in 1705 ; and the year after, he
finished another poem upon Cider, the first book of which
had been written at Oxford. It is on the model of Virgil s
Georgies, and is thought a very excellent piece. We have
no more of Philips’ writings except a Latin ode to Mr
Henry St John, which is esteemed a masterpiece. He was
meditating a poem on the Last Day, when he was cut off
by consumption on the 15th ot February 1;68.
PHILISTINES (Heb. Philistim), a tribe which gave
its name to the country known as Palestine, though it occupied
only a portion of the southern coast, namely, that which was
bounded on the E. by the hill country of Ephraim and Judah,
and on the W. extended from Joppa to the borders of Egypt,
thus touching on the Israelite tribes Dan, Simeon, and Judah.
Indeed the portions of Simeon and Dan covered a large
part of Philistia; but its possession by the Israelites was
disputed, and was never entirely achieved, i Ins country
was originally held by the Avims, who were destroyed and
their land seized by the Caphtorims, coming forth out ot
Caphtor (Dent. ii. 23). Caphtor has been thought to be
Cappadocia; so is it rendered by the Targums as well as
by the Syriac and Vulgate translations (“ Palsesthinos i eh-
quias insulae Cappadociae ”). Bertheau, however, decices
that Caphtor is Crete, on several grounds (Bertheau, Zwr
Geschichte der Israeliten, 1842; see also Die Phonizier,
von Movers, 1841 ; and Kandan, von C. von Lengerke,
1844). Since the appearance of Lakemacher’s Observat.
Philol. (ii. 11, sq.), and Calmet’s Biblical Researches, the
PHI
word Kreti has been considered to prove that the Philis- Philistines,
tines were wanderers from Crete, which recent scholars
have confirmed. Greeks and Romans support this view.
Tacitus (Hist. v.2) relates that inhabitants of Palestine came
thither f rom Crete. Stephen of Byzantium, under the word
Gaza, states that this city was properly called Minoa, from
Minos, King of Crete, who came to Gaza with his brothers
Acakos and Rhadamanthus, and named the place after
himself (comp. Kreta, von Karl Hoeck, ii. 368). I he
same writer adds that the Cretan Jupiter was honouied in
Gaza. (See Palestine.) #
The Philistines are represented in the Old Testament
as foreign immigrants. 1 he ordinary translation of their
name in the Septuagint is AX\o<pvXoi, men of another tribe.
The root whence Philistine, denotes a wanderer, one
from a foreign land, and was probably given by the Hebiews
to the foreign immigrants who called themselves Cretans.
The names of their cities and their proper names are of She-
mitic origin. In their intercourse with the Israelites there
are many intimations that the two used a common language.
How is this, if they were immigrants in Palestine ? This
difficulty is removed by supposing that originally they were
in Palestine, went westward, but afterwards returned east¬
ward, back from Crete to Palestine; so that in Amos ix.
7, it is to be understood that God brought them up to Pa¬
lestine, as He brought the Israelites out of Egypt back
to their home. (Movers, Die Phvnizier, pp. 19, 29, 35.)
Greek writers, however, give evidence of a wide diffusion
of the Shemitic race over the islands of the Meditenanean.
(See Thucydides, i. 8 ; Herodotus, i. 173 ; and Homer, Od.
ix. 174 ; comp. Strabo, p. 475.) Many proofs offer them¬
selves that, before the spread of the Hellenes, these islands
were inhabited by Sbemitic races. The worship observed
in them at this time shows a Shemitic origin. 1 he She-
mitics gave place to the Hellenics; a change which dates
from the time of Milos, who drove them out of the islands,
giving the dominion to his son. 1 he expelled population
settled on the Asiatic coast. This evidence, derived from
heathen sources, gives a representation which agrees with
the Scriptural account of the origin, the westerly wandering,
and return eastwards of the Philistines.
If now we follow the Biblical accounts, we find the his¬
tory of the Philistines to be in brief as follows : 1 hey had
established themselves in their land as early as the time ot
Abraham, -when they had founded a kingdom at Geiar.
(Gen. xxi. 32; xxvi. 1.) When the Israelites left Egypt,
they were deterred by fear of the power of the Philistines
from returning by the shortest road—that which the cara¬
vans still take—because it lay through the country of the
Philistines. (Exod. xiii. 17.) Joshua appears to have
thought it prudent to attempt nothing for their disposses¬
sion. The days of the Judges, however, brought conflicts
between the Israelites'and the Philistines, which were des¬
tined to continue during the entire history of the Hebiew
monarchy. _ .
In the Maccahaean period the Philistines were Syrian
subjects, and had at times to suffer at the hands of the
Jews (1 Macc. x. 86 ; xi. 60, sq.) King Alexander (Balas)
gave Jonathan part of their territory, Accaron, with the
borders thereof in possession (1 Macc. x. 89). Ihe Jewish
monarch, Alexander Jannaeus, overcame and destroyed
Gaza (Joseph. Antiq. xiii. 3. 3 ; De Bell. Jud. i. 4. 2).
By Pompey Azotus, Jamnia and Gaza were united to the
Roman province of Syria (Antiq. xiv. 4. 4); biit Gaza was
given by Augustus to King Herod (Antiq. xv. 7. 3)*
The cities of the Philistines were greatly distinguished.
The chief were Gaza, Ashdod, Askalon, Gath, and Ekron
(Josh. xiii. 3 ; Judg. iii. 3). The greatness of these cities
was mainly owing to commerce, for the coast of Palestine
was in the earliest ages exclusively in possession of the trade
which for many ages was carried on between Europe and
PHI
Philistus Asia. Besides a great transit trade, they had internal
|| sources of wealth, being given to agriculture, &c. Their
Phillips. re]igion was not essentially different from that of the Phoe-
nicians. The idol which they most reverenced was Astarte.
Priests and soothsayers were numerous (1 Sam. vi. 2). Their
magicians were in repute (Isa. ii.6); and the oracle of Baal-
zebub at Ekron was consulted by foreigners (2 Kings i. 2).
They had the custom of carrying with them in war the
images of their gods (2 Sam. v. 21). Tradition makes the
Philistines the inventors of the bow and arrow.
PHILISTUS, a celebrated Syracusan, was the son of
Archonides or Archomenides, and was born about 435 b.c.
His chief fame in ancient times was derived from his
character as a historian. In this capacity his conduct was
that of an inveterate time-server. He aided Dionysius
the Elder in seizing the chief power at Syracuse, and
afterwards became one of the most devoted supporters
of the tyranny. Nor when the ungrateful despot ba¬
nished him to Adria was his spirit cured of its servility.
He gave vent to the most beseeching complaints in order
to move the pity of his former patron. He sought to re¬
gain favour by giving, in the Plistory of his country which
he was then writing, a virtuous colouring to all the tyrant’s
unprincipled deeds. When all these devices had failed,
and Dionysius the Elder had died in 367 B.c. without par¬
doning him, he assumed the same cringing attitude towards
Dionysius the Younger. The interest of his friends at
court was employed to procure his recall. No sooner had
that object been attained, than he insinuated himself into
the highest place in the young tyrant’s confidence. He
was continuing to hold that position by pandering to his
master’s vices, when the revolt of Dion in 356 B.c. brought
about his overthrow. The defeat of the naval armament
under his command drove him to commit suicide. The
fragments of the works, and the facts of the biography of
Philistus, are given in an appendix to Goller’s De Situ et
Origine Syracusarum, &\o, Leipsic, 1818; and in Didot’s
Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, Paris, 1841.
PHILLIPS, Richard, an eminent mineralogical and
pharmaceutical chemist, was born in London in the year
1778. He spent the earlier part of his career as a chemist
and druggist; and in 1805 he first attracted the attention
of the scientific world by his “Analyses of the Bath Waters,”
followed by analyses of our mineral waters generally, and
of minerals of a rare kind. These papers were published
for the first time in the Annals of Philosophy, a journal
partially conducted by Phillips both before and after its
subsequent incorporation with the Philosophical Magazine
in 1827. He was appointed lecturer on chemistry to the
London Hospital in 1817; and about the same period he
was elected by government professor of chemistry at the
Military College, Sandhurst, and became lecturer on che¬
mistry at Grainger’s School of Medicine in Southwark. It
is, however, in the character of editor and translator of the
London Pharmacopoeia that Richard Phillips is best known.
In 1816 he produced a review, consisting of an Experimen¬
tal Examination of the Last Edition of the Pharmacopoeia
Londinensis, which established his name as a scientific
critic, and raised his reputation as a chemist. During the
same year he wrote another brochure entitled Remarks on
the Editio Altera of the Pharmacopoeia I^ondinensis. These
pungent criticisms had the effect of drawing upon their
author the notice of the College of Physicians ; and Phillips
was accordingly induced to come forward with his first offi¬
cial translation of the Pharmacopoeia in 1824. From that
period down to the time of his death Phillips took a lively
interest in the improvement of this important publication,
and much of its present excellence is mainly due to his
industry and skill. In 1822 he was made a fellow of the
Royal Society; in 1832 he became lecturer on chemistry
at St Thomas’s Hospital; in 1839 he was appointed che-
PHI 515
mist and curator of the Museum of Practical Geology ; and Phillips,
in 1849 he was chosen president of the Chemical Society,
a position which he continued to occupy till his death, which
happened on the 11th of May 1851.
The numerous and valuable contributions to science
which Richard Phillips left behind him are to be found
scattered throughout the Transactions of the Royal Society,
the Philosophical Magazine, and the Pharmaceutical Jour¬
nal. He likewise contributed the principal articles on
chemistry and mineralogy in the Penny Cydopcedia. “ Of
modern British analytical chemists,” said Dr Thomas Thom¬
son in his History of Chemistry, published in 1831, “un¬
doubtedly the first is Mr Richard Phillips, to whom we are
indebted for not a few analyses conducted with great che¬
mical skill, and performed with accuracy.”
Richard Phillips was younger brother of William Phillips,
the mineralogist, who will be found noticed in a subsequent
article.
Phillips, Samuel, an industrious and successful littera¬
teur, was the son of a Jewish tradesman in Regent Street,
London, and was born in‘1815. A somewhat precocious
talent for mimicry and recitation had disposed his parents
to train him for the stage; but they were afterwards in¬
duced, through the advice of the Duke of Sussex, to send
the lad to the London University. After remaining a
year at that institution, Phillips proceeded to the university
of Gottingen. Having renounced the Jewish faith, he
returned shortly afterwards to England, and entered Sidney
Sussex College, Cambridge, with the design of taking
orders. His father’s death, however, altered his plans ; and
after an unsuccessful attempt, in conjunction with his brother,
to carry on his father’s business, he, in 1841, took to litera¬
ture as a profession. His first work, the novel of Caleb
Stukely, appeared originally in the pages of Blackwood1 s
Magazine ; and he subsequently contributed other anony¬
mous tales to that and to other periodicals. In .1845 he
began, through the interest of Lord Stanley, to write poli¬
tical leaders for the Morning Herald; and about the same
time he obtained an appointment on the staff of the Times
as literary critic for that journal. In the following year he
purchased the John Bull newspaper, which he edited for
a year ; but finding his strength, which was slowly wasting
under the influence of confirmed consumption, quite un¬
equal to such laborious work, he was constrained to aban¬
don the undertaking. From that period till his death
Phillips worked cheerfully and courageously as literary critic
for the Times, and also wrote an occasional review for the
Literary Gazette. Two anonymous volumes of Essays
from the Times were published by him in 1852 and 1854.
They are written in a light, dashing, picturesque style,
sometimes eloquent, frequently bitter, and with a tolerable
show of fairness. Phillips took an active part in the forma¬
tion of the Crystal Palace Company. He was appointed their
literary director; he wrote their Guide to the Crystal Palace
and Park, and the Portrait Gallery of the Crystal Palace.
In 1852 the university of Gottingen conferred upon him
the honorary degree of LL.D. But while success attended
his industry, and honours came thick upon him, the fell
disease with which he had long struggled at length brought
his career to a close. He died at Brighton on the 14th
October 1854, leaving behind him a widow and five child¬
ren, for whom he had made a comfortable provision.
Phillips, Thomas, an eminent portrait-painter, was born
at Dudley in Warwickshire in 1770. Having acquired the
art of glass-pain ting at Birmingham, he visited London in
1790 with an introduction to Benjamin West, who found
him employment on the glass-paintings in St George’s
chapel at Windsor. In 1792 Phillips painted a “View of
Windsor Castle,” and ere the two succeeding years had
passed, he exhibited “The Death of Talbot, Earl of Shrews¬
bury, at the Battle of Cassillon,” “ Ruth and Naomi,’’
516
Phillips
I!
Philo Ju-
dssus.
PHI
“ Elijah restoring the Widow’s Son,” u Cupid disarmed by
Euphrosyne,” and other pictures of that class. From the
year ] 796, however, he seems to have mainly confined
himself to portrait-painting; and it was in this walk he was
destined to acquire his reputation as an artist. It was not
long before he became the chosen painter of men of genius
and talent, notwithstanding the rivalry of such distinguished
artists as Koppner, Owen, Jackson, and Lawrence. He
has left behind him, accordingly, portraits of nearly all the
illustrious characters of his day, which will serve to justi y
the laudatory epithet of “ the English Vandyck” bestowed
upon him by the eminent foreign artist Nicaise de Keyser.
In 1824 Phillips succeeded Fuseli as professor of painting
to the Royal Academy, an office which he held till 183”.
During this period he delivered ten Lectures on the His¬
tory and Principles of Painting, which were published in
1833. He likewise wrote a large number of the artic.es,
on the fine arts in Rees’s Cyclopedia. He died on the
20th of April 1845. ... ,
Phillips, William, an industrious mineralogist and geo¬
logist, was born in London on the 10th of May 1773. In
conjunction with his brother Richard Phillips, already no¬
ticed, and eight other young men, chiefly of the Society of
Friends, he founded the Askesian Society, to which he
contributed his first paper in 1801, “ On the VirgulaVivi-
natoria. or Divining-Rod,” afterwards published in the P/«-
losophical Magazine. The principal objects of l hiihps
early studies were mineralogy and geologyand few men
of his time contributed more to the diffusion of geneial
information on these sciences. He was among the very
first to turn to good account the reflective goniometer of
Wollaston in the measurement of crystals; and in the use
of that instrument, says Dr Whewell (Hist.oflnd. Sciences),
“ No one was more laborious and successful than W ilham
Phillips, whose power of apprehending the most complex
forms with steadiness and clearness led Wollaston to say
that he had a ‘ geometrical sense.’ ” His Elementary
Introduction to the Knowledge of Mineralogy, first pub¬
lished in 1816, and made the basis in 1852 of Brooke and
Miller’s Introduction to Mmeralogy, is pronounced by the
same writer to be “ an extraordinary treasure of crystallo-
cn-aphic facts.” This work had been an expansion of his
^Outlines of Mineralogy and Geology, published some years
previously for the use of the young. In 1818 he published
An Outline of the Geology of England and Wales, vih\c\\
he afterwards expanded into his more famous Outlines of
the Geology of England and Wales. William Phillips
likewise contributed elaborate communications on subjects
connected with his favourite sciences of mineralogy and
ecology to the first series of Transactions of the Geological
Society. He also wrote some minor papers for the Annals
of Philosophy and the Philosophical Magazine. He vvas
chosen a fellow of the Royal Society a year e ore ns
death, which took place in the spring of 1828. _
PHILO JUDAEUS, or Philo the Jew, an ancient Oreek
writer, descended of a noble family amongst the ews,
flourished at Alexandria during the reign of Caligula. He
was the chief of an embassy sent to Rome about the year
42 a.d., to plead the cause of the Jews against Apion, w o
had been sent by the Alexandrians to charge them wit i
neglecting the honours due to Caesar. Pie afterwards wen
to Rome in the reign of Claudius, and both Eusebius an
Jerome inform us that he became acquainted with t
Peter, with ivhom he lived on terms of friendship. At a
later period, it is said, his son Tiberius Alexander marned
Bernice, the daughter of King Agrippa.
Philo was educated at Alexandria, and made very great
progress in eloquence and in philosophy. After the fashion
of the time, he cultivated, like many of his nation and faith,
the philosophy of Plato, whose principles he so thoroughly
PHI
imbibed, and whose manner he so well imitated, that it Philo
became a common saying, Aut Plato philonizat, aut Philo ”
platonizat. Josephus describes him as a man “ eminent on .
all accountsand Eusebius represents him as “ copious in
speech, rich in sentiment, and sublime in the knowledge
of Holv Writ.” He was, however, so much immersed in
philosophy, particularly the Platonic, that he neglected the
Hebrew language, and also the rites and customs of his own
people. Scaliger, Grotius, and Cudworth declare that,
though a Jew by nation, he was yet very ignorant of Jewish
literature and of Jewish customs. But Fabricius and
Mangey think differently. In his works, however, there
are certainly many excellent things. Though he is con¬
tinually platonizing and allegorizing the Scriptures, he
abounds with fine sentiments and lessons of morality ; and
his morals are rather the morals of a Christian than those
of a Jew. History, as well as his own writings, give us
every reason to believe that.he was a man of great prudence,
constancy, and virtue. , . ,
Flis works were first published in Greek by Turnebus,
at Paris, 1552 ; and to these a Latin translation, executed
bv Gelenius, was afterwards added. The best editions are
those of Paris, 1640; Dr Mangey, London 2 vols. folio,
1742, of which the text is considered to be the best; Rich¬
ter, 8 vols. 8vo, 1828-30, with additions not before pub¬
lished. The works of Philo Judaeus have been translated
into English by C. D. Yonge, forming 4 vols. of Bohns
“Ecclesiastical Library,” 1854. . .
Philo a celebrated writer on mechanics, was a native ot
Byzantium, and flourished in the year 160, being the con-
temporarv of Ctesibius and Hero. He was the author of
a work, entitled TIoXiop/oyTucd, on the method of attacking
and defending towns, of which the fourth and fifth books
have been preserved. The first treats ot the mannei o
preparing arrows, balistse, catapultae, and other warlike en-
o-ines. Amongst other inventions, he mentions a machine
of Ctesibius which discharged weapons by means of com¬
pressed air, upon the same principle, no doubt, as our air-
gun. In the second book he treats of the manner of forti¬
fying and provisioning cities, and, amongst other things,
recommends that the provisions and water be poisoned it
there be danger of the place falling into the hands ot an
enemy. This work has been published, with a Latin trans¬
lation, in a collection entitled Veterum Math email cor urn
Opera Par. 1693. The invention of the air-gun has been
treated of by Alb.-Louis Meister, De Catapulta polybola
Commentatio qua locus Philonis Media,nici, in librow.
de telorum constructione extans illustratur, Gottingen, 1 <68.
There is another little work attributed to Philo, entitled Uepi
rwv eirra beagdriov (On the Seven Wonders of the World),
part of the sixth chapter of which, and the whole of the
seventh, are lost. It has been published, with a Latin
translation and many learned notes, by J. C. Orelh, Leip-
sic, 1816,8vo. , „ , i-i
PHILOLAUS, a distinguished Pythagorean philoso¬
pher, born, according to some, at Crotona, according to
others, at Tarentum, some time during the latter half of
the fifth century B.c. He was instructed in philosophy by
Aresas, and had for his disciples Simmias, Cebes, and
Archytas, the friend of Plato, whom he taught at Thebes
in Bceotia. Philolaus was the first who published a book
on the Pythagorean doctrines, a treatise which Plato is
said to have made use of in the composition of his Timwus.
This work of the Pythagorean seems to have consisted ot
three books:—1. Containing a general account of the
Origin and Arrangement of the Universe ; 2. An Exposi-
tion"5of the Nature of Numbers ; 3. On the Nature of the
Soul. (See Fabricius’ Bibliotheca Grceca.) There is an
edition of the fragments of Philolaus, by Bockh, 8vo, Ber¬
lin, 1819.
517
PHILOLOGY.
Definition. Philology, in the usual and generally correct acceptation
of the term, is a branch of study of which the object is
some language and literature fixed in a permanent, if not
unalterable form. The application, however, of the original
word by the Greeks themselves is much wider and more
general than this definition would imply ; and modern scho¬
lars have endeavoured to claim for philology a distinct
and important place among the highest and most syste¬
matic sciences. As common Greek terms, <£(AoA.(yyos and
(fiLXoXoyia denote merely a fondness for literature and lite¬
rary discussion. In more than one passage Plato makes
Socrates describe himself as <£iA.dAoyos (Ph&dr., p. 236 E.;
Lack., p. 188 C. : Thecetet., 161 A., cf. 146 A.), meaning
by this that he delighted not only in hearing speeches, but
also in the dialectical argumentation which formed his
chief employment; and the same great writer describes
Athens in general as both cj)i\6\oyos (“ loving discourses ),
and TroXvXoyos (4< full of talk”), in contradistinction to Lace¬
daemon and Crete,’which cultivated reflection rather than
conversation. (Legg., p. 641 E.) A little later, a distinction
was made between the more general sense in which philo¬
logy could be predicated of ail the Athenians as a national
characteristic, and a more special application of the term ;
and Zenon contrasted those who were mere lovers of con¬
versation with those who cultivated literature and philoso¬
phy as liberal studies, by calling the latter ^tAoAoyot, but
the former Aoydc/)tAoi. (Stobaeus, Serm. 36, 26, vol. ii., p. 40,
Meineke : EcL, vol. ii., p. 214, Heeren.) When philology
had thus fixed itself as a word denoting liberal study, it
soon became applicable to studies of a particular kind. And
as philosophy denoted the whole compass of ancient learn¬
ing,—that is, not only the investigation of nature and thought,
but also the study of transmitted opinions and of the books
by which they were conveyed,—philology was understood to
signify the second part only of philosophy, namely, all
that referred to literature, language, and history. (See Wyt-
tenbach on Plutarch de audiend. poet., p. 22 C., p.^ 226.)
The first person who was called a philologer (^AoAoyos)
in this sense was the great Eratosthenes (Sueion. de illustr.
Gramm., c. 10), who, however, did not by any means relin¬
quish the name or the functions of a philosopher, but laid
claim especially to a combination of various depaitments of
learning {multiplex variaque doctrina), which made him
the 44 admirable Crichton” of his age. The same name, foi
the same reason, was bestowed upon Atteius (Sueton., u. s.)
and Demetrius of Scepsis (Diog. Laert. v., § 84). . And
all these, with many others, regarded the possession of
book-learning, which made man a philologer and polyhistor
(TToXviarcop ; Vit. Arat. Phcen., p. 268,11), or more generally
a student {studiosus, Plin. Epist. iii. 3), as merely an at-
junct to other accomplishments, or rather as a department
of philosophy. In process of time, however, philosophy
was limited to the investigation and discovery of physical
and psychological facts ; and then philology assumed a
sort of antagonistic position in regard to that which was
originally esteemed as merely a branch or department o
the same manifestation of intellectual activity. Hence it
was that Plotinus, whose literary qualifications were of a
very humble order, described his eminent contempoiary
Longinus, who was emphatically a learned man (Eunapms,
Porphijr., p. 13), and had written a book called The Phi-
lologers {ol (fciXoXoyoi: see Ruhnken, Piss, de Long., § 10)>
as a philologer indeed, but in no sense a philosopher (Poi -
phyry, Vit. Platini, c. 14, p. Ixiv., Creuzer). 1 his opposi¬
tion has been either accepted by those in modern times who
have wished to claim for philology the most extensive pro¬
vince and the most exalted functions; or, allowing physio¬
logy and philology to be still the two main branches of phi- Definition,
losophy, they have assigned to the latter the duty of sur- Vs—
veying all knowledge which is already placed on record ;
so that all human study is divided into two great departments,
—the retrospective and the prospective, the known and the
unknown. 44 It appears to me,” says the enthusiastic dis¬
ciple of W. von Humboldt {Pe Pronomine Relativo Corn-
mentatio Philosophico-Philologica, scripsit H. Steinthal,
Berolini, 1847, pp. 4, 5), 44 that it is the business of the
human understanding, or of literature in general, to com¬
prehend those simple and absolute laws which appear in the
world or in nature on the one hand, and in the history of
the human race on the other hand. As, therefore, there are
two forms of literature,—one, the history of nature, ox phy¬
siology ; the other, the history of the human mind,—philolo-
gers undertake the examination of all that the Adyo?, or
human reason, has produced. Now, whatever the human
reason produces is some idea, something recognised and
discerned by the mind, although it may be clothed in some
outward form, whether it be a form of government consti¬
tuted by human society : or some monument of hewn stone:
or some type of mythology and religion : or some demon¬
strative result of philosophical acuteness : or some outpour¬
ing .of poetical genius or oratorical eloquence. So that
even the history of philology belongs to philology, with this
limitation, that, e.g., the history of classical philology is the
specialty of those who consider modern life from a philolo¬
gical point of view. Accordingly, the only true definition
fs Bdckh’s, that philology is the teaching and learning of
that which is already discovered {philologiam esse cogniti
cognitionem) j which is not to be undei stood, as though
phiiologers were always doing over again the work done to
their hands ; but all the products of the human mind which
remain as recorded facts have to be submitted afiesh to
the crucible of human thought, to the end that, being ic-
cognised, not as the arbitrary acts of individuals, but as
sprung from the necessary laws of minds individually fiee,
they may be regarded as a mirror or picture of the human
reason in general.” This sweeping generalization, by claim¬
ing for philology a sovereignty over all that has icceived a
literary expression,—everything, in fact, except the new dis¬
coveries which inductive science may make in the domain
of visible nature,—virtually deprives the philologer of any
definite functions, and almost makes his name co-extensive
with that of studious and thinking man. Still, it contains the
germs of the true definition of philology—a definition quite
consistent with the popular acceptation of the term. For
the opposition between discovery {inventio) and learning
{cognitio), on which it rests, is really that which, in his own
proper department, distinguishes the philologer from all
others who claim the possession of a particular science,
namely, some branch of knowledge methodized and reduced
to general laws and principles. The fact is, that philology
always presumes, as the basis of its operations, some fixed
form of language and literature. By the nature of the case,
it deals with that which has been completed in the past, and
is no longer liable to fluctuation and change. Living and
contemporary literature may be criticised, but it cannot be
a proper object of philology. No fixed conclusions can be
drawn from that which is still in a state of transition. It
follows therefore, that, as far as language and literature are
concerned, philology is most truly defined as the science of
investigating and learning that which is already before the
world as an accomplished result of human intellect. And the
Romans actually used this distinction to describe the con¬
trast between the Greeks, who had furnished them with
models of rhetoric and philosophy, and themselves, as the
518 PHILO
Ancient intelligent inheritors of that transmitted wealth,—“ Ulis
Philology. enim,” says Quintilian (I/ist. Oral. xii. 11, § 22), “haec
v'—V-*^ invenienda fuerunt, nobis cognoscenda sunt.” The essen¬
tial distinction, that philology deals only with a fixed and
completed form of language and literature, leads to another
limitation by which its province is more accurately defined.
It not only does not deal with modern and living literature,
but it does not even concern itself with those departments
of criticism which are equally applicable to all forms of
literature, whether modern or ancient. This removes from
the province of philology many branches of study which the
ancient <£iA.oA.oyos claimed as his own, such as rhetoric, poeti),
and the theory of taste. The philologer, in the full sense
of the term, deals with ancient literature for the sake of
language in general, which the fixed forms of an ancient
idiom enable him to analyse according to methodical and
scientific principles. With the literature itself the philo¬
loger, as such, is concerned chiefly as a verbal critic and
interpreter. He undertakes to furnish the means by which
the true reading may be ascertained and the intended sig¬
nification elicited ; and although a knowledge of many
collateral subjects may be necessary to enable him to do
this effectually, he regards these particulars as auxiliary
matters only, and does not concern himself with the literary
or philosophical results of his own criticisms so far as the
subject-matter of his author is concerned, faking all the
circumstances into consideration, we are disposed to define
philology as, in itself, the general name for a scientific in¬
quiry into the principles of language. It deals at once
with the theory of the origin and formation of words, and
with the method of language, which treats of the formation
of sentences. But whether we consider the origin of phi¬
lology,—i-e., the circumstances under which such a branch
of study has assumed a systematic form,—or the procedure
by which it tests its conclusions and extends its field of
research, we must consider it as dealing with some branch
of literature, national or classic, which is no longer vague
or floating; so that it includes all the higher applications
of grammar, criticism, and exegesis. Again, when we
regard the intimate connection between the mind of
man and his spoken language, we cannot fail to see, that
the highest philology must involve an investigation of the
laws of thought, and so trench on the boundaries of psy¬
chology. Lastly, when we remember that language is the
most ^ancient and the most trustworthy of pre-historical
records, we shall not be surprised to find that philology
constitutes one of the main ingredients in the new science
of ethnography, or the history of the varieties of the hu¬
man race” and'that it has led to special investigations into
the primitive condition and primitive religious belief of
families of men long since divided by the inevitable pio-
cess of emigration. In the following pages it is not om.
object to treat methodically of any branch or application of
philology. It is sufficient that we should show how this
science of language gradually developed itself; what it has
achieved ; and what it is still doing. With this view, we
propose to discuss, in order, the establishment of a metho¬
dical and minute study of language on the basis of classi¬
cal and sacred criticism, and the subsequent growth of com¬
parative gram mar, with its adjuncts—comparative history and
mythology. The following will be the most convenient
divisions of our subject:—(1.) Ancient Philology ; (2.) Phi¬
lology during the Middle Ages; (3.) Classical and Sacred
Philology, after the revival of literature; (4.) Compara¬
tive Philology, with its various developments and applica¬
tions in the present century.
I.—ANCIENT PHILOLOGY.
The science of philology, like the name, is of Greek
origin. Its first faint beginnings may be discerned in the
age when the Pisistratidae at Athens undertook the col-
L O G Y.
lection and editorship of the scattered poems attributed to Ancient
Homer. (See the important Scholium on Plautus, Ritschl. Philology.
Alexandr. Biblioth., p. 4.) In the classical period which v-—w-*-'
followed, the great epic poems were more and more re- Origm of
o-arded as a text-book for study and elucidation; and to dassic Phi-
such an extent did the text of Homer serve as the founda-
tion of all Greek training, that Plato, in his Republic, feels
himself obliged to discuss formally how far such an influence
should be encouraged in his model commonwealth. At
the same time, the Sophists, or literary men by profession, The So-
who were the earliest students of language on its own ac- phists.
count, began to investigate the elements of grammar and
criticism with an immediate reference to the text of the
old poems. Protagoras, one of the most eminent of this
class of public teachers, was the first to treat of the in¬
flections of his own language ; and he noticed with due
attention the machinery used for the modal distinctions of
the verb, and for the genders of the noun. The first prin- PIat° and
ciples of syntax, namely, the relation of the subject to the - llt> 0 e*
predicate, and the distinction between the substantive verb
as a mere copula and its use as a means of predicating ex¬
istence, were perhaps not stated distinctly before the publica¬
tion of Plato’s Sophistes. And Aristotle from this developed
his theory of the method of language, which has since held
its place as the best exposition of the subject. rl hese,
however, were but the beginnings of philology, scattered
over a hundred years, and appearing only as incidental
hints at a time when the productive genius of Greek litera¬
ture was in full vigour, and when the age of writers had
not yet given place to the age of commentators. Philology,
as a study furnishing a main occupation to those who em¬
braced it, came into active operation at the end of the
fourth or at the beginning of the third century B.C., when
the Greek dynasty settled in Egypt established at Alexan- The |Cho°_
dria a museum or college and a library on a large sca^e’^rja.6
and invited to that city all the men of letters who were
willing to devote themselves to a life of book-learning. As
far as any one man can claim the distinction of having
initiated this school of learning, the honour must be con¬
ceded to Demetrius the Phalerian, who, having come to
Egypt as an exile from Athens, induced Ptolemy Soter to
lay the foundation of the library, and to undertake me¬
thodically the revision of the more ancient writers, especially
Homer. The undertaking thus started was carried on with
increasing vigour by a series of eminent men who filled
the office of chief of the museum at Alexandria, and who,
besides their special employments as literary men in different
fields, were critics and commentators by profession. 1 he
first six of these librarians were Zenodotus, the great Ho-^
meric editor; Callimachus; Eratosthenes ; Apollonius ot^
Rhodes ; Aristophanes of Byzantium ; and Aristarchus of
Samothrace. By their exertions, and those of their con¬
temporaries among the grammarians of Pergamus and the
Stoics of Athens, all the details of editorial criticism were
put into a systematic form. The Greek language was ana¬
lysed ; the parts of speech were classified ; cases and other
inflections received their names, and their usage was de¬
fined ; the divisions of the sentence were marked by a
system of punctuation ; and the pronunciation was regis¬
tered by the simple but ingenious contrivance of accentual
marks. At the same time, the texts of the great poets,
especially Homer, were settled by a most careful revision
of all the materials.
From the establishment, then, of the Alexandrian school Beginning?
we date the origin of classical philology, or at least of a 0f sacred
methodical and critical study of the Greek language, resting philology,
on a revision of its oldest literary remains. The period
marked by the labours of the first six librarians a£ Alexan¬
dria also saw the first beginnings of sacred philology, which
may, indeed, be regarded as an offshoot from the studies of
the Alexandrian scholars. The Jews had begun to make
PHILOLOGY.
519
Ancient a collection of their sacred books as early as B.c. 446, when
Philology, they were restored to their own country ; and those of the
nation who were settled at Alexandria were already in pos¬
session of the Pentateuch, at all events, when Demetrius
the Phalerian persuaded Ptolemy Soter either to procure a
translation of these books, or to add to his library the Greek
version of them already in use by his Jewish subjects,
which, however, he had revised and sanctioned by the San¬
hedrim at Jerusalem ; and the name of the version (that of
the Seventy, Septuaginta), is derived from the number of
that council. As other books were added to the canon at
Jerusalem, they were from time to time translated at Alex¬
andria ; and when the collection was completed, sometime
about B.c. 130, the whole series was divided into twenty-
four parts, in accordance with the number of letters in the
Greek alphabet, and in imitation of the same division
adopted by Aristarchus for the two great Homeric poems.
As the division into twenty-two parts, according to the
number of letters in the Hebrew alphabet, was not adopted
till afterwards (see Beveridge’s Works, vii., p. 202, sqq?)* it
is clear that in this important matter the procedure of the
classical school established at Alexandria re-acted on the
Jewish Masorets; so that classical and sacred criticism may
really be traced back to one and the same origin.
Phi’ology The philology of Rome was merely an offshoot or appli-
at Rome, cation of that which had established itself in the schools of
Greece. Not only was the later Roman literature entirely
built up on the foundations of the Greek, but the later
Greek literature was itself domesticated at Rome ; and rhe¬
toricians, grammarians, commentators, and lexicographers
wrote or compiled for the benefit of the accomplished
Romans no less than for the literary public still furnished
by their own countrymen. Among the Romans themselves,
or those who wrote in Latin, the most eminent philologers
were M. Terentius Varro, the contemporary of Cicero ;
Atteius Philologus, the friend of Sallust and Pollio, who
wrote an enormous miscellany in 800 books, called YA.77,
or “ Materials Verrius Flaccus, the tutor of the grand¬
sons of Augustus, whose invaluable treatise He Verborum
Sigreijicatione has come down to us only in the mutilated
abridgment of Festus ; Quintilian, the great rhetorician,
who flourished under the Flavian emperors ; Aulus Gellius,
who was a contemporary of Hadrian and the Antonines ;
Macrobius, the author of the Saturnalia, and his contem¬
porary Servius, the learned commentator on Virgil, who
are referred to the age of Honorius and 1 heodosius ; and
Martian us Capella, who is usually placed at the end of the
fifth century a.d. T hese writers treated the classical au¬
thors of Greece and Rome in the manner and spirit which
the Alexandrian grammarians had exhibited in their com¬
mentaries on the older Hellenic literature ; and many of
them do not differ in any essential respect from the com¬
mentators who have appeared since the revival of learning
in the fifteenth century.
| Philology Quite unconnected with any of the manifestations of
in India, philology which we have hitherto noticed, but destined at
a distant period to exercise no slight influence on the
science of language in general, a school of grammarians
sprung up in India, and applied to their own sacred or
classical literature methods virtually identical with those
which had been adopted by the classical philologers. It
cannot be determined at what particular date the northern
tribe of the worshippers of Brahma eftected the conquest
of the district which they called the Arian land (Arya-
drartaA), lying between the Himalayan and Vindhyan chains
of mountains. From the internal evidence of the oldest
writings, it is concluded that their movement from the
north-west did not commence until after B.C. 1400. 1 here
can be no doubt, however, that these conquerors introduced
into India their own language, the Sanscrit, or grammati- Ancient
cally perfect idiom, and with it their sacred literature ; and Philology,
that the latter, represented by the Vedas, dates as far back
as the fourteenth century before Christ. On the basis of
this revelation (for the Vedas, by their very name, claim to
be a direct communication from the Supreme Being) was
built up a copious literature, partly poetical and partly
scientific. In process of time, the Sanscrit language, in
which this literature, or the more solemn parts of it, was
composed, and even the Pracrit dialect, which represented
a more vulgar and popular type of the sacred dialect, became
dead languages ; and the literature was studied only by the
learned men of the upper classes. (See Lassen, Indische
Alterthumsk. ii., pp. 1153, sqq.) In India, then, as at
Alexandria, a school of philology arose ; and connected as
their grammatical studies were with the intellectual activity
of the highest functionaries in the religious and secular
bodies, it is not surprising that the learned and able gram¬
marian obtained a rank little less sacred than that of the
writers whose works he expounded. The full establishment
of the grammatical system in northern India is referred to
the reign of King Vicramaditya, who rescued the north¬
western provinces of India from the Sacae, and reigned as
absolute sovereign from the Punjab to the Ganges. The
beginning of his epoch is fixed at B.c. 58. (Ideler, quoted
by Lepsius, Chronologic der JEgypter, i., p. 4.) How long
before this time the philological element had existed in San¬
scrit literature cannot be determined ; for the grammarians
of Vicramaditya’s court at Oujein were, like the Masorets ot
the Jews, the sole editors of the sacred or classical books,
and may have introduced into the texts the grammatical
allusions which we find here and there. For example, we
cannot but regard it as an interpolation when Krishna is
made to say in the Bhagavad-Gita, an episode of the Malia-
Bharata :—“ I am the A of letters, and the copula which
connects the elements of the compound word” (aksharanam-
a-karas asmi; dvandvas samasikasya-cha, Bhag. Git. x.
33). The first of the Sanscrit grammarians, Panini, is re¬
ferred to a fabulous antiquity. “ Panini,” says Colebrooke
{Miscellaneous Essays, ii., p. 4) “ lived in so remote an age
that he ranks among those ancient sages whose fabulous his¬
tory occupies a conspicuous place in the Paranas, ov Indian
theogonies. The name is a patronymic indicating his descent
from Panin; but ascending to the Paurdnicu legends, he
was grandson of Hevala, an inspired legislator. 1 he pio-
bability is, that the Indian scribes, like those in other coun¬
tries, claimed as the author of their own theories some great
personage veiled in the mist of ages, and endeavoured to
exalt their own science by referring it to a sacred origin.
The same attempt to give undue antiquity to a philological
work is apparent in the reference of the vocabulary o
Amara-Sinha to an older age. It is pretty clear that this
lexicographer flourished under Vicramaditya, and was one
of the nine gems of his court—a phrase w hich reminds us
of the Alexandrian Pleiad ; and it is at least probable that
the Sutras attributed to Panini were not much more ancient.
The latter, at all events, found a commentator in the person
of Bhartrihari, a brother of King Vicramaditya, whose Kdn-
kd, or metrical aphorisms of grammar, and the Vdrttikas, or
annotations of the inspired saint and legislator Katyayana,
have nearly the same authority as the work of Pamni itself.
Those who are interested in every additional proof of ParalM
the axiom, that the same causes produce the same effects, between
wall be gratified by observing how exactly similar the philology
growth of philology has been not only in the Greek and
Jewish schools, which had a certain connection with each the Greeks
other, but also in the Indian school, which, though long an(j jews.
subsequent, must have been nearly independent of any
western influences. In Central Hindustan, wheie Vicra-
On the identification of Katyayana and Vararuchi, see
Cowell's edition of the Frcikrita-Prakd<;a, Pref., p. vi.
520
PHILOLOGY.
Ancient macUtya reigned, no less than in Egypt under the Ptolemies,
Philology. and in Palestine after the return from Babylon, these cn-
v—tical and grammatical labours were stimulated by tie wis i
to preserve an accurate knowledge of an idiom winch was
becoming less vernacular every day, and which contained
the key to a literature regarded as classical at Alexandria,
sacred at Jerusalem, and both classical and sacred at ujein.
The process in all these cases was precisely the same.
The first care was to settle the texts of the most ancient
and precious books. What Zenodotus, Aristophanes, and
Aristarchus attempted at Alexandria, was the object ot
Ezra and his followers in Judea, and of tne priest y or
princely scholars who illustrated the glories of King
Vicramaditya. The different editions of the text of Homel¬
and the varieties indicated by the Septuagint, as compared
with the Hebrew texts of the Plebrew books, are paralleled
by similar phenomena in India. For example, the gieat
epic poem called the Rdm&yana, which describes, under the
mythical form of the adventures of Rama, an incarnate
deity, the conquest of Southern India and Ceylon by the
Brahminical race, appears in two distinct recensions, one ot
which is called the edition of the commentators, and is sup¬
posed to have been settled at Benares; the other, winch
belongs to the Bengal school, and is called Gaudana, from
Gauda, the ancient name of the central region of Bengal
and of its capital, now destroyed.1 The commentaries and
paraphrases of the Alexandrian scholiasts and the Jewish
Talmudists are more than paralleled by the similar efforts
of the Indian pundits; and while the latter are rival ed by
the Greeks only in their lexicography, neither Greeks nor
Jews can vie with them in the minute and artificial accuracy
of their grammatical system.
Greek phi. Under the Roman emperors Greek philology, which
lology dur-had domesticated itself in Italy from the time when the
ing thede- Greeks first fell under the paramount influence ot the
Cline of the RomanS) was represented by an unbroken series of rheton-
Romnn fjans and grammarians. Flourishing schools existed not
only at Rome, Athens, and Alexandria, but in outlying
places like Marseilles, Rhodes, Apollonia, and Tarsus. In
the reio-n of Vespasian distinct provision was made for the
clue remuneration of the Greek teachers settled at Rome
(Suet Vesp c. 18). Hadrian directed his efforts to the
re-establishment of Athens as the principal university in
the empire, and the steps which he initiated w^ere carried
out by M. Aurelius in the second century. In the school
of Athens the chief professor was the occupant of the chan
of rhetoric ; and that his functions implied that he was the
Greatest philologer or scholar of the day is clear, not only
from his title as “ leader of the youth of Athens, but also
from the fact that Julius Pollux, who held this office under
Commodus, had been the tutor of that prince, and has left
us an Onomasticon, or lexicon of classical terms, correspond¬
ing in effect to the Amara-Cosha of the Indian gram¬
marians. Other rhetoricians or grammarians ot the same
a-e drew up glossaries or treatises on grammar and metres,
which exhibit a thoroughly philological spirit, and have been
found very useful by modern scholais. Among e mos
eminent of these were Apollonius Dyscolus, who first re¬
duced Greek grammar to something like a systematic form,
and his son Herodian, whose writings treated of many de¬
partments of minute criticism. We see the influence o
the philological studies of the second century in some of the
writings of the great satirist Lucian, who was not on y an
eminent verbal critic, but contrived, by a careful stu y o
the best authors, to pass from the semi-barbarous He enism
of his native place (Samosata, on the Euphrates) to a sty e
more purely Attic than has ever been attained by an imi¬
tator. Philology of the same kind was cultivated by many
Ages.
other learned Greeks, most of them being, like Lucian, of Philology
oriental origin. As scholars, the most eminent of these were du]J^|1the
the contemporary writers of the third century,—Longinus,
who, as we have seen, wrote a book called The Philologers; v
Porphyry, who was called “ the most grammatical ot philo¬
sophers” (Wyttenb. ad Eunap., p. 7, ed. Boissonade) ; and
OrUen, the Christian father, who may be said to have
founded the modern school of sacred hermeneutics. A
taste for philological investigation was exhibited by many
writers in the fourth and fifth centuries; and Athens, Alex¬
andria, and Constantinople abounded in philosophers and
rhetoricians, both Christian and pagan, who made the
illustration of the classical authors one of the main objects
of their labours. Such were Themistius and Libamus,
Synesius, Theon and his daughter Hypatia, Olympiodorus
and Simplicius, and, above all, Proclus, the last of the
Neo-Platonists. Orus and Orion wrote on the details of
the language; Stephanus of Byzantium collected the tradi¬
tions of geographical knowledge ; and perhaps at this time
John of Stobi preserved, by a series of extracts, some ie-
cords of the ancient philosophical systems.
n. PHILO I.OGY DURING THE MIDDLE AGES.
Empire.
The middle, or, as they are sometimes called, the dark O’onjnience. |
ages, maybe said to have commenced with two nearly
contemporaneous events in the eastern and westei n c ivuions fixed
of the Roman empire. In 529 a.d. the school at Athens by tvv0
was closed by Justinian, and the living literature ot Greece nearly
received a blow from which it never entirely recovered, contempo-
Heathen philosophy took refuge for a while in the uncon- ^neo. s
genial hospitality of Persia; and the intermitting patronage ^ent
of the Byzantine emperors never gave it an opportunity ot
really reviving in the regions where the Greek language
was still vernacular. In 524 a.d. Boethius died in prison ;
and his Consolation of Philosophy was the last dying swan-
note of classical culture in the districts where the Latin
language was still spoken and written according to the
forms of the better ages. For some nine centuries a ter
these events, philological studies were prosecuted, if at all,
in a very partial and imperfect manner. According to t le
definition of the term from which we have started, there
was no true philology in the dark ages. For though some¬
thing wras done for the illustration of the ancient writers,
and something more for their preservation, the classical
languages were not viewed with any proper regard to their
structure and significance, and the higher kind o verbal
criticism was simply non-existent. As far as philology How far
existed at all during these nine centuries, it may be said philoK.
to have presented itself under four distinct forms or activity, the
—that which appeared in the general cultivation ot 'jreek middie
literature at Constantinople; that which was represented )\ ages>
the biblical studies of the Jews, especially at Tiberias in
Palestine, and at Babylon ; that which manifested itself in
the intelligent curiosity of Arabic scholars at the two
extremities of the Mohammedan conquests,—Baghdad and
Seville ; and that which is implied in the scholastic learning
of Northern and Western Europe.
At Constantinople, in the long interval between ^ a Ph. o-
reigns of Justinian and Constantine Palaeologus, the culti- Kgy.^^ |
vation of Greek literature went through many phases of
neglect and revival. And from the tune of Photms the
Patriarch, in the latter half of the ninth century, down to
the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when wandering
Greeks appeared as the teachers of their own language in
Italy and other parts of Europe, Byzantine literature con¬
tained some strong ingredients of a philological nature.
Lexicons, like the well-known compilations known by tne
„ , A r oaapn thinks that there were three recensions, all amplifications of a com-
1 See Gorresio’s Preface to his edition of the Rdmdyana. Lassen t
mon nucleus. (Ind. Alterthumslc. ii., p. 500.)
PHILOLOGY.
521
Philology names of Hesychius and Suidas, or by the title of Etymo-
during the logician Magnum ; commentaries, like those of Eustathius
Alidille on Homer; treatises on grammar and dialects, like those of
v 1 °es' 1 Thomas Magister, Georgius Lecapenus, and Gregory of
^ Corinth, at least furnished the materials for those who, a
little later, and in a different part of Europe, were destined
to bring a more accurate and searching criticism to the
same department of study.
1. Philolo- The attention which the Jews had paid to the texts of
gy among their sacred books from the time of their restoration, and
the Jews, especially after they had come into contact with the Greek
learning of Alexandria, was in the strictest sense philologi¬
cal ; though, from their one-sidedness and natural prejudice,
they were not likely to bring any comprehensive or philo¬
sophical views to bear on the study of their own language
and literature. The Masora or traditionary school, which
dates from the days of Ezra, continued to exist in Palestine
for many centuries. Even after the destruction of Jerusa¬
lem it had its seats of learning at Jabneh, Tsiphoriah, Cae¬
sarea and Tiberias. In the last of these places the Rabbi
Jehudah was famous about a.d. 230 ; and after his death
Babylon became the chief abode of Jewish learning, hav¬
ing been in fact the birthplace of the studies which Ezra
and Nehemiah had imported into their native land, and
having been the second home of the Israelites from the
time of their exile under Nebucadnezzar. (See Fuerst,
Kultur und Literaturgeschichte der Juden in Asien, i., p.
3.) In the time before this establishment of Jewish learn¬
ing in Babylon as its metropolis, three epochs are distin¬
guished,—that from 585 to 300 b.c., when the canon was
in the process of formation ; that from 300 to 32 B.C., when
tradition and Jewish theology were establishing themselves
on an independent basis of speculation ; and that from 32 B.c.
to 188 a.d., when the Mischna was in the process of for¬
mation. But although Babylon became the chief seat of
Jewish learning after the death of the Rabbi Jehudah, the
school of Tiberias still retained its authority ; and it was
here, in a.d. 506, that the Masora of the law was first com¬
mitted to writing, its last compiler and editor being Ben
Asher, who lived at a somewhat later period. The school
of Babylon flourished till the year 1037 a.d., and from this
proceeded the thriving branches of Jewish literature which
were transplanted to Italy, Barbary, and Spain about the
year 900 a.d. These learned Jews not only devised an
elaborate system of grammar, which still holds its ground,
to the great detriment of comparative philology, but they
endeavoured to fix the pronunciation of the sacred lan¬
guage by a system of vowel-points, which came into use
between the sixth and eighth centuries a.d. ; and while
they seem to have dealt rather arbitrarily with the text
itself, they sought to fix its interpretation by an elaborate
contrivance of points and accents.
e. Arabic While the Jews, though denationalized and dispersed in
learning, foreign lands, were exhibiting this activity in the philolo¬
gical study of their sacred literature, another branch of the
Semitic* family had succeeded in carrying their living lan¬
guage from the Indian Ocean to the Atlantic. The estab¬
lishment of the religion of Mahomet, and the proselytizing
conquests of his successors, had made Arabic the court
language in more than one populous and civilized region ;
and it was the policy of the khalifs to encourage the culti¬
vation of a native literature among their subjects. It was
under the Abbassidae, and especially under Haroun-al-Ra-
shid, inA.D. 786-808, that this Alexandrian period of Ara¬
bic learning attained its greatest lustre. Translations were
made from Greek, Syriac, Persian, and Pehlevi writings ;
and this love of foreign learning was carried so far by Al-
Mamun, who reigned in 813-833, that he offered the By¬
zantine emperor a large sum of money and favourable terms
of peace for the services of Leo the philosopher. Under
this khalif schools were established at Baghdad, Bosra,
VOL. XVII
Bokhara, and Kufa, and great libraries collected at the Philology
capital and in other places. The Moorish dynasty of the during the
Omayids in Spain vied in this patronage of learning with WiddIe
the A bbassidse at Baghdad ; and Cordova became one of the Ages‘
chief seats of Arabic culture, especially in the tenth cen- ^
tury. Besides Cordova, Spain possessed 14 universities
and many lower schools in which Arabic studies were pro¬
secuted ; and the influence of these Semitic teachers on
the education of Europe in general is shown by the uni¬
versal substitution of the Arabic for the Roman numerical
signs, and by the adoption from the Arabic of a great many
technical terms, such as alcohol, algebra, alkali, azimuth,
zenith, nadir, &c. The extent to which these Arabic
scholars studied the classical writings of the ancients, at a
time when they were almost unknown in Europe, is indicated
by the importance attached, on the revival of letters, to the
translations and commentaries on Aristotle published by
Averroes (Ibn-Roschd) of Cordova in the twelfth century,
and rendered into Latin for the benefit of the European
schoolmen.
In Northern and Western Europe the clergy fora longd. Schoks-
time monopolized the little learning which still struggled J'ic ^arn-
for existence. The prejudice which the church had en- ^r|^ei,n
tertained against heathen culture from the fourth century, and West_
prevented the priests themselves from engaging with much era Europe,
interest in the study of the best writers. Greek was an
unknown tongue to the Latin Christians; and the language
of Cicero and Virgil was gradually breaking up into the
Romance dialects, which are its representatives in Italy,
France, and Spain. The Latin was indeed retained as the
language of religion and law ; and the necessity imposed
upon the clergy of studying the vulgate translation of the
Scriptures and the standard books of canon law, which were
written in the classical idiom, maintained the practice of
grammatical training even on the part of those who had
no taste for a pure and accurate style. And if the classical
writers were not much studied, they were at all events pre¬
served from a wider destruction than has befallen them by
the monks of the Benedictine order, whose rules obliged
them to read and copy manuscripts, and who exercised this
rule not unfrequently on behalf of the best Latin authors.
Individual instances occurred in which a desire for better
learning was manifested. In England, in particular, an
Asiatic Greek, named Theodore, who became primate in
668 A.D., introduced a knowledge of Greek and Latin ;
and in the following century Bede, and a little later Alcuin,
exhibited a respectable amount of philological attainments.
The intellectual excitement occasioned by the first Crusade,
and the glimpses of eastern civilization and refinement
which this pilgrimage of warriors and priests opened to the
ruder nations of the West, seem to have led to the develop¬
ment of universities in the twelfth century. It is generally Founda-
supposed that the university of Paris was the earliest of these
institutions; but it was followed speedily by similar esta-veisi ies>
blishments in England and Italy. In all these universities
the faculty of arts or philosophy w'as the original depart¬
ment ; and of the seven liberal arts of which the course of
study consisted, the first three, or grammar, logic, and
rhetoric, attracted the greatest attention. And as all these
consist more or less in the study of language for its own
sake, it may be said with truth that the universities of
Western Europe had at once grappled with no inconsider¬
able part of philology. Almost contemporary with this be- The scho-
ginning of university education was the establishment of |astic Phl*
the scholastic philosophy; that is, of a system of grammar andlos0i> iy‘
logic derived ultimately from the Stoics, and applied to the
solution of the most difficult questions in metaphysics and
theology. The founder of this school-philosophy was Ros¬
celin of Compiegne, who flourished in the early part of the
twelfth century, and adopted the tenets generally known as
nominalism. He was, therefore, the first to inaugurate a
3 u
522
Classical
and Sacred
Philology.
PHILOLOGY.
Classical
studies re¬
vived in
Italy in the
14th cen¬
tury.
mode of dealing with language, which in the fourteenth
century, under the able guidance of our countryma ,
liam of Ockham, was destined to pave the way at once for
a reformation of theology, and a revival °^erary mticisrn
The schoolmen, however, dealt only with the method or
language, or with the structure of the sentence; and thougl
they occasionally speculated on the meaning of terms, they
had no Hnguistic knowledge; and if the universities had
been left to the training which they encouraged and e
e nullified, there would have been no restoration of the better
kind of learning. But while they were wrangling on ques¬
tions of dtinity at Paris, Oxford, and Salamanca, and whifo
Bob °na was prosecuting the study of the civil law, eminent
Hterarv men in Tuscany had been led by their own good taste
to make themselves acquainted with the great writers of an¬
cient Greece and Rome, and to acquire the classical idioms in
which thev had composed their works. Danfo, who wrote his
Divina Commedia at the very beginning of the fourteenth
,1 :akps Virfol for his guide through the gloomy re-
C < If future punishment, Admitting that he had derived
all°the graces oHi'is style from a careful study of that great
nde^ Petrarch was induced to devote his special attention
to Virgil and Cicero, and recommended them by his warm
eulogiums to the notice of his contemporaries. But the tra
ditions of classical Latin had never been entirely lofet ’
Petrarch aimed at a more important acquisition when he en-
deavoured, with the aid of ‘the Calabrian Barlaam, to gain
some knowledge of Greek in 1342. In this effort he was
not successful; but the achievement was effected by Boc¬
caccio a few years later, when he was fortunate enough o
obtain the assistance of Leontius Pilatus, the last of those
1 in Greece itself, were supposed to understand the
text’of Homer. These, however, were isolated instances
and no public teacher of Greek was estabfished in Italy
before the year 1395, when Emmanuel Chrysoloras gave
lectures at Florence, and became the founder of a school of
Italian Hellenists. Guarini of Verona had been h.s pupil
a?Constantinople,and became his fellow-labourer in spread-
inn- a knowledge of Greek. Numerous manuscripts of the
best authors were imported by Aunspa and others; an
nothing was wanted but formal and public patronage to
p’tablish in Italy the renewed study of classical antiquity,
xt a CO dance'of that patronage in the fifteenth century
combined with the invention of printing in Germany or he
Netherlands, and other concurrent causes, gave rise to t
rev val of learning in Europe, and led to the foundation of
modern philology as a main ingredient in liberal education.
ni—CLASSICAL AND SACRED PHILOLOGY AFTER THE
revival of literature.
Patronage It was about the same period that .Pri"“d books began
of ancient to appear in the Low Countries and in er Y
Learning in J, \ ts of the Turks drove the most learned Gieeks trom
15th Sown country, and obliged them to seek an asylum m
Italy Ind that Alfonso, King of Naples, the Pope Eugemus
Ivjand, abovea,,. Co-o dV ^dic^encouraged ^mng
general circulation of books, the active P/^nage «f the
leading men in Italy enabled native or foreign scholars,
like Poggio Bracciolini, Laurent,us Valla, Tb^dore Gaza
John Bessarion, Filelfus, Gennstus Pletho, and others to
place the study of the classical writers on a footing ot re
cognised importance. In tracing briefly t e i • ,
development of philological studies from this peno ,
was not only in one sense a revival of what had previous y
existed among the Greeks and Romans, but also, in ano e
sense, the beginning of critical scholarship and unguis ic
science in the modern acceptation of these terms, it will ne
most convenient to consider separately and in succession the
different countries which made important contributions to Classical
the methodical investigation of the class,callanguages
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. . . .
We must begin with Italy, which, while it may claim the
honour of inaugurating modem learning, has peAaj “n-B.ha»_
tributed less than any other country in Europe towards the
improvement of scientific philology. At the time of their
greatest activity,-namely, in the first hundred years after
the revival of letters,—the Italian scholars were chiefly oc¬
cupied with printing Greek and Latin books, and furnishing
the former with Latin versions. An eager desire to kr'ow ®
contents of the books written in Greek, which so few had
adequately mastered, made the work of translator very po¬
pular and remunerative. Pohziano’s version ot Herodian
passed through three editions in 1493, the year of its pub-
Hcation ; and the versions of Plato and Plotinus, which
Marsilius Ficinus executed from the Greek manuscripts,
were for a long time the only sources of knowledSe ,{°r
those who studied the Platonic and Neo-Platonic philo¬
sophy. Laurentius Valla, who had begun at an earhe
period to translate the historians and epic poets, was the
first of these Italian scholars who attempted to deal philo o-
gicafiy with the Latin language. His six books on he
elegancies of Latin, which were first published before the
invention of printing, laid the foundation of m°dern r„'
searches in syntax and the distinctions of synonyms. An
he also set the first example of writing critical notes on the
text of the New Testament. The first specimen of more
general criticism was supplied by the Miscellanies ot Po i-
ziano, which appeared in 1489, and contained illus rations
of one hundred passages, taken at random from the best
Latin authors. He entered into quest,ons somet,me, -
volving the minutest accuracy, tor example, be was the
first tcfprove what all scholars admit,though few adoptthat
spelling? that the name of Virgil was really Vergd™. With
all this, however, the book contains at the end the fofi°w-
ino- curious admission and demonstration of the author &
disregard'of orthography Impressit ex archetypo An-
tonius Miscominus. Famihares qmdam Pohtiam r.ec g
novere. Politianus ipse nec Horthographiam se ait nec
omnino alienam prsestare culpam.” In the same Y6^ ''^
the Miscellanies of Poliziano appeared the Cornucopia o
Nicolas Perotti, which was mainiy a commentary on Mar¬
tial ; and the same scholar compiled a Latin Gramma ,
which was used as a text-book by the learners of that age.
Philippo Beroaldo did good service as an editor of Latin
works^ and Hermolaus Barbarus, a noble Venetian, who
enjoyed a reputation not inferior to that of Poliziano,
boasled that he had introduced some 5000 emendauons
into the text of Pliny’s Histana iVa^m/w. Meanwhfie
the press of Aldus was in full activity, and befoie the end
of the fifteenth century it had put forth nearly ^enty efo-
tions of Greek authors, beginning with the eiegant but co
naratively recent poem of Musaeus. The Greek text of
Plato, whose writings had excited so much attention a
Florence, where they were known in the Latin translation of
Ficinus, appeared for the first time from the press of Aldus
in 1513, under the editorship of Musurus, who piefixe
some Greek elegiac verses of his own, perhaps the last speci¬
men of such a composition from the pen of a native Greek.
The heavy ecclesiastical atmosphere, which hung over German
Italy, did not allow that country to see the full develop-schok
ment of the scholarship which it had inaugurated It was P
“Sved to Germany ind the Netherlands whjch had m-
troduced the art of printing, to produce also the h>st be¬
ginnings of a free and enlightened criticism which rescued
classicalism from the trammels of sacerdotalism, and pave
the wav for intellectual liberty in all departments of litera¬
ture "The founder of modern scholarship in Germany, an
the nioneer of the Reformation, which sprung, m part at
least! from the establishment of a better kind ot learning m
PHILOLOGY.
523
in Prance
—Budaeus.
Classical that country, was John Reuchlin, whose name, according
jmd Sacred to the pedantic fashion of the age, was Graecized into Capnio.
Philology. Born at Pforzheim in 1455, and having received his early
education in Germany, he was enabled to extend his op¬
portunities of acquiring knowledge by visits to France
and Italy; and while in the latter country in the suite of
Eberhard of Wiirtemberg, he excited the admiration of
Joannes Argyropulus by the accuracy with which he
translated Thucydides, and elicited the exclamation that
the banished learning of Greece had taken refuge be¬
yond the Alps. His studies were-not confined to Greek
and Latin. He was also an oriental scholar, and had
' paid particular attention to the later Hebrew literature.
\ielanc- His mantle descended to Melanchthon, whom he recom-
thon. mended as his substitute when invited to Wittemberg;
and he died in 1522, after having laid the foundation of
the philology which has become the inalienable inheritance
of his country.
Scholar- In the Low Countries, Desiderius Erasmus of Rotter-
ship in the {Jam, who was born in 1467, and died in 1536, pursued a
Nether- course which tended to the same object as that of Reuch-
Erasmus ^n’ though he was less frank and open in the avowal of
his convictions. He, too, had visited Italy, and became a
doctor at Bologna. And he had made his appearance in
England before the end of the fifteenth century, and not
only stimulated the learned activity which was commenc¬
ing in this country, but actually held a professorship in
the university of Cambridge, and wrote a book on Latin
style for the use of his friend Dean Colet’s newly-founded
school of St Paul’s.
Progress of Although the greatest normal influence is thus attributable
philology t0 Germany and Holland, it was in France that the earliest
philological works of the new school made their appear¬
ance. William Bude (Budaeus), who was born in the
same year as Erasmus, by the publication of his two
great works, De Asse et Partibus Ejus in 1514, and his
Commentarii Lingua Grcecce in 1519, opened a new era in
philological research. The latter, in particular, must be
regarded as the foundation of all modern Greek lexi¬
cography ; and though the first book of its kind, it is still
an excellent authority in some of its departments, espe¬
cially in the explanation of the orators; insomuch that
Person, the greatest critical scholar of the present cen¬
tury, at one time contemplated a republication of the
work. WTe owe to Frenchmen of the sixteenth century
not only this, the earliest specimen of a really scholar¬
like explanation of Greek words, but also the first beginnings
of Latin and Greek lexicography in the ordinary accep¬
tation of the term. The Dictionaries of Calepio and others
were completely superseded by the appearance of the
Robert and Latin Thesaurus of Robert Stephens (Etienne) in 1535;
Henry Ste- anci Henry, the son and successor of that eminent scholar
Phens- and printer, by the publication of his complete Greek The¬
saurus in 1572, not only took the place of the Lexicon pub¬
lished ten years previously by his countryman Robert Con¬
stantin, but has furnished the groundwork of all future
labours of the same kind ; and his great Dictionary has been
republished twice in the present century, with all the aids
and appliances of modern erudition. Besides these emi¬
nent men, and the two greatest scholars of the end of the
sixteenth and the early part of the seventeenth centuries,
Isaac Casaubon, the son-in-law of Henry Stephens, and
Joseph Justus Scaliger, the founder of philology in Leyden,
when the university was established there in 1575, as a
reward for the heroic valour of the citizens, France con¬
tributed to Italy, in the fifteenth century, the most learned
of those who wrote on philology in that country,—M. A.
Muretus, who, to considerable erudition and critical acumen,
added the rare accomplishment of writing Latin in a style
which any Roman but Cicero might have envied.
The scholarship of England in the sixteenth century was
Muretus.
not only stimulated by the direct influence of foreigners Classical
established in the country as teachers, such as Erasmus, P. and Sacred
Martyn, and M. Bucer, and by the intercourse between the Philology,
leaders of the Reformation on this side of the Channel, and men '
like Melancthon, who represented at once the revived learn- Classical
ing and Protestantfeelings of Northern Germany, but also by Earning in
the labours of Englishmen high in the state—such as Sir T. England-
Smith, who taught Greek at Cambridge in 1533, and was
ultimately secretary of state to Queen Elizabeth ; Sir John
Cheks, who, after being regius professor of Greek and
public orator in the university of Cambridge, was tutor,
privy councillor, and secretary of state to Edward VI.; and
Roger Ascham, who was private tutor and Latin secretary
to Queen Elizabeth. The foundation of a number of
grammar schools in the latter half of the sixteenth century
did a great deal towards confirming the study of philology as
the chief branch of a liberal education; and not only the
clergy and gentry, but even the ladies of England, attained
to a familiarity with Greek and Latin literature which was
not common on the Continent. Grammar# of both languages
were compiled ; and in a series of editions, beginning from
the year 1548, Thomas Cooper, afterwards bishop of Lincoln
and Winchester, so improved Sir T. Elyot’s Latin and Eng¬
lish Dictionary, that classical students in this country pos¬
sessed, with explanations in their own mother tongue, a very
adequate substitute for the Thesaurus of Robert Stephens.
By the end of the sixteenth century, classical philology, Philology
in its modern sense, was fully established, and the publica- established
tion of various editions of the New Testament, an activein Europe
study of Hebrew, especially in Germany and England, and **
various contributions to the interpretation of Scripture, had °entury
placed sacred philology on a parallel footing in the coun¬
tries which professed Protestantism. Even the remote
kingdom of Scotland had felt the influence of this revived
study of antiquity ; and George Buchanan, who was born Buchanan,
in 1506, and died in 1582, obtained a place, at any rate in
Latin scholarship, equal to that of his most celebrated
contemporaries.—Ov Skotos rjv, said his pedantic eulogist,
dAAa <£dos ^Korfys. After the commencement of the seven¬
teenth century, it is no longer necessary to consider the
progress of philology with reference to the different coun¬
tries which contributed to it. The republic of letters was
of no country ; and while scholars formed a sort of confra¬
ternity which kept up a friendly intercourse by means of
Latin, the universal language, sometimes publishing in one
country what had been written in another, the successive
epochs in the development of linguistic science were due
rather to the eminent talents of individuals than to anything
peculiar to the training or circumstances of their respective
nations.
As we have already intimated, two great French scholars
form the link between the creative efforts of the sixteenth
and the completed scholarship of the seventeenth century :
Isaac Casaubon, who was born at Geneva, where his parents Isaac Ca-
had taken refuge in 1559, and who died as prebendary ofsaubon.
Westminster and Canterbury in 1614, being as nearly as
possible the contemporary of Shakspeare ; and Joseph j. j. Sca-
Justus Scaliger, who was born at Agen in 1540, and diedliger.
at Leyden in 1609. The latter of these celebrated men
constitutes an epoch in the history of philology ; and, en¬
couraged as he was by the communications of Casaubon,
he laid the foundation of the science of learned chronology.
“ Scaliger,” says Niebuhr {Hist, of Rome, i., note 660),
“ stood at the summit of universal solid philological learn¬
ing in a degree that no one has reached since ; and so high
in every branch of science, that from the resources of his
own mind he could comprehend, apply, and decide on what¬
ever came in his way.” It was not only by his great work
De Emendations Temporum, and his numerous contribu¬
tions to the elucidation and criticism of the ancient authors
(see the list given by J. Bernays in his biography of Scali-
abbey, and a house of refuge. Earthenware is made here;
and fishing is carried on. Pop. 6000.
PAU, a town of France, capital of the department of
Lower Pyrenees, stands on a ridge of hills on the right
bank of the Gave de Pau, 58 miles E.S.E. of Bayonne,
and 468 S.W. of Paris. Its situation is very beauti¬
ful, as the river has its banks lined with trees, and is
crossed by a picturesque bridge; while the view to the
south is extremely fine, commanding the bold and serrated
range of the Pyrenees, appearing in the distance between
the gaps in the rounded and wooded hills that rise in front.
The town is well and regularly built, having one principal
street, several squares, and public walks. The Place
Royale, near the centre, is planted with trees, and contains
a statue of Henri IV.; the Place de la Comedie is also a
fine square; but the most beautiful public place is the
Parc, a natural terrace shaded with fine trees, which ex¬
tends along the bank of the Gave de Pau. The most re¬
markable building in the town is the castle, a large irre¬
gular structure with five towers, standing at the west end,
overlooking the river. This castle is interesting on account
of its historical associations; for Henri IV. was born here,
and his cradle, consisting of a large tortoise-shell, is still
preserved. The castle was much injured during the first
revolution, when it was used for barracks ; but it was hand¬
somely restored by Louis Philippe, and was for some time
the residence of Abd-el-Kader. There are in Pau, Roman
Catholic and Protestant churches, courts of law, a college,
museum, public library, literary society, and market-house.
The manufactures consist of handkerchiefs, table linen,
carpets, rags, leather, and paper. A considerable trade is
carried on in wine, chestnuts, hams, salt meat, cotton and
woollen goods, &c. Pau is a favourite residence of the
English, especially in winter, on account of the mildness
and dryness of the climate. It is also much resorted to by
the Parisians. Bernadotte, the King of Sweden, as well as
Henri IV., was born here. Pop. (1856) 17,238.
PAUL, originally Saul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, and
author of several portions of the New Testament canon.
Though a native of Tarsus, a city of Cilicia,1 he was the
son of Jewish parents belonging to the tribe of Benjamin.'2
From his father he inherited the rights of Roman citizen¬
ship,3 which had probably been conferred upon some of his
ancestors for some important services rendered to the com¬
monwealth ;4 * and it has been conjectured, though with no
great probability, that the cloak and parchments which he
so earnestly charged Timothy to bring with him to Rome
were the Roman toga and the certificates of his citizenship,
which he expected might be of use to him in his anticipated
trial before the emperor. The name Saul which
he received at his birth, and which signifies “ the longed-
for, the desired,” would seem to indicate that he was the
first-born son of his parents, and that his birth was viewed
by them as an answer to prayers; that he was not, how¬
ever, their only child, is apparent from Acts xxiii. 16, where
mention is made of his “sister’s son.” In the 16th chap¬
ter of the Epistle to the Romans he himself names six
persons whom he styles his cnr/yevus; but it has been
questioned whether by that term he intends more thany<?/-
lotv-countri/men, though the probability is, he uses it in its
proper sense of relations.1* The name Saul (7)^^) was
afterwards dropt, and that of Paul (IlaSAos) constantly used
both by himself and others. Much difference of opinion St Paul,
exists as to the relation of these names to each other, and
the reason why the one was dropt and the other retained.
Some think that, as Luke mentions the name Paul for the
first time in connection with the apostle’s interview with
Sergius Paulus (Acts xiii. 9), the apostle assumed that name
out of courtesy to the proconsul; an opinion which, though
suggested by Jerome, and adopted by Bengel, Olshausen,
Meyer, and Baumgarten, does not in itself seem very pro¬
bable, and is hardly in keeping with the form of Luke’s
statement, “ Saul, who is also Paul.” Others with greater
probability suppose that the apostle had originally a double
name, the one Hebrew and the other Latin ; and that when
he came to labour chiefly among the Gentiles, he dropt the
former and used only the latter. So Alting, Lightfoot,
Hammond, Wolf, Basnage, Schrader, Winer, De Wette,
and others. In the judgment of many distinguished scho¬
lars, however, the most probable conjecture is, that the name
Paulus is only a softened form of the Hebrew, Shaool, to accom¬
modate it to western organs, just as we find Jason for Jesus,
Hierosolyma for Yerushalayim, Matthaeus for Mattiyah, Al-
phaeus for Chalpai, and many others ; though it must be con¬
fessed that none of these is exactly parallel to the case before us.
His father being of the sect of the Pharisees, probably
devoted him from his infancy to the service of religion ;
and with this view Paul seems to have received such edu¬
cation as appeared most calculated to fit him for the duties
to which he was destined. At that time Tarsus was
eminently distinguished for its cultivators of philosophy,
and every other department in the circle of instruction
(crTTOvSi) TT-pos re (f)LXocro<f)Lav Kol Trjv aWrjv eyKCK/\.iov aTracrav
TraiSaav) ;6 but to what extent the future apostle of Chris¬
tianity was indebted to the labours of such teachers for
his early education no means are left us of judging. It is
probable that his obligations were not very great; for as his
ultimate destination was to the office of an expounder of
the Jewish law and traditions, it does not appear likely that
he would be sent by his parents to occupy himself with the
literature and philosophy of those whom the Jews despised
as outcasts, as well from the light as from the favour of
heaven. At the same time it cannot be denied that his
residence in a city where the study of the liberal sciences
was so assiduously and successfully prosecuted as to place
it upon a par with “ Athens, Alexandria, or any other place
that could be named in which schools and studies are to
be found,”7 must have had a considerable influence in refin¬
ing his taste and liberalizing and expanding his views ; and
he would doubtless here also obtain a familiarity with Greek
as a spoken language which could not but be of use to him
in after-life. It was at Jerusalem, however, the centre of
the Jewish world, that the most important part of his edu¬
cation was received. At an early age, in his twelfth or
fourteenth year, as is supposed,8 he was brought to this city,
and placed under the instruction of Gamaliel, one of the
most famous teachers of Jewish learning at that time.9 Here
he finished his education as a Pharisee, and at the same
time, according to the custom of the Jews, acquired a me¬
chanical art, that of a oto/j/ottoios, which some render “a me¬
chanist;”10 others “a haircloth-maker ;”11 others “a maker
of tapestry or carpeting ;” and others, with most apparent
propriety, as in our version, “ a tentmaker, or a maker of
tent-cloth.”12 By this he probably supported himself during
1 Acts xxii. 3, &c. 2 Philip. Hi. 5. 3 Acts xxii. 25-28.
4 The opinion, that the natives of Tarsus enjoyed the jus civitatis as a birthright, is not supported by evidence. The fact of that city s
having been created by Augustus an urls libera (Plin. v. 27) does not lead to any conclusion as to the possession by its natives of the
right of Roman citizenship; and, from Acts xxi. 39, compared with xxii. 24, 27, it may be inferred, that as the chief captain knew
Paul to be a native of Tarsus, and yet was ignorant of his Roman citizenship, these two were not necessarily conjoined.
6 So Lardner, Meyer, Fritzsche (who says, “ explicatio populates meos absurda est ), De Wette, &c.
6 Strabo, lib. xiv., c. v. 7 Ibid. 8 Greswell’s Dissertations, vol. i., p. 554. 9 Acts xxn. 3.
1° Michaelis, Introd. by*Marsh; Haenlein, Einleitung, ch. Hi., s. 301. 11 Eichhorn, Einleit. iii. 9; Hug. Einleit. ii. 213.
12 “ Persons travelling in the East, in order to shelter themselves from the rain and noxious blasts during the night, carry with them
small tents made of leather or cloth; and the manufacture of these is a profitable occupation.” (Winer, Bib. Realwbrterbuch, art. Paulus.
PHILOLOGY.
G. Her-
F. A.
Wolf.
Classical grammar and criticism opposed to the mere empiricism
and Sacred which had previously been considered sufficient for all
Philology. practical purposes. The chief works of Reiz were his
treatise De Temporibus et Modis Verbi Grceci et Latini
(Lei ps. 1766), and his essay De Prosodies Grcecce. Accentus
Inclinatione (published after his death, by F. A. Wolf) ; but
whatever influence he may have produced on the learned
world by these treatises, a more important effect resulted
from his training of the mind of Godfrey Hermann (born
28th November 1772, died on the last day of 1848). The
first edition of Buttman’s Greek Grammar had been pub¬
lished in 1782, but without evincing any of the marked
features of the work as we now have it. In 1801 appeared
Hermann’s Essay De Emendanda Patione Grcecce Gram-
maticce, which took a truly philosophical view of the sub¬
ject, and applied to the traditionary system of the Greeks
principles derived from the general theory of language.
The historical criticism, which had been founded by Bent¬
ley, and to which Heyne had made some approximations, was
revived in a very striking manner by a pupil of the latter,
Fr. Augustus Wolf, who, following up a theory which had
been ventilated in 1725 by an eccentric Italian, Giambat¬
tista Vico, perhaps also acting on the hints thrown out by
Wood in 1772 {On the Original Genius of //b/wer),and cer¬
tainly guided in some degree by the Venetian Scholia
published by Villoison in 1788, undertook to prove in 1795
that the poems attributed to Homer were not the work of
one poet, but were collections of lays reduced to an outward
coherence and consistency by the editorial labours, first of
the Pisistratidae at Athens, and afterwards of the Alexan¬
drian grammarians; that, in fact, they were not originally
committed to writing, but had gradually assumed in the
hands of the rhapsodists the form in which they were
thus submitted to the diligence of successive remodellers.
Wolf’s Prolegomena ad Homerum, supplemented in 1797
by his Briefe an Hrn. Hofrath Heyne, eine Beilage zu den
neuesten Untersuchungen uber Homer, produced an effect
not unlike that of Bentley’s Dissertation on Phalaris;
and though his views have not found more than a partial
acceptance in his own country, and have been warmly
combated by some of the best scholars in England, Wolf
is accepted, by the chief promoters of historical criticism in
the present century, as their great model and immediate
forerunner. This was directly admitted by Barthold
George Niebuhr (born at Copenhagen 26th August 1776,
died at Bonn 2d January 1831), whose History of Rome
is the most remarkable example of destructive and recon¬
structive criticism that modern philology has produced. The
study of the classical writers in that connection with
the taste of modern literature which the old pedantic
scholars (Ruhnken’s Doctores Umbratici) had formally
repudiated, and which Heyne had done so much to esta¬
blish,1 found a great supporter in Fr. Schleiermacher, an
eminent philosopher and divine, who applied to his examina¬
tion of Plato’s Dialogues a system of interpretation restingon
a comprehensive view of the connection of thought in the
collected works of his author; and his method was avow¬
edly adopted by Augustus Bockh and Ludolf Dessen.
Perhaps the summit of excellence in this application of
K. 0. Mill- classical philology was attained by Karl Otfried Muller,
Lr. the favourite pupil of Bockh, who pursued with success the
paths opened by Heyne,Bockh, Niebuhr,and Winckelmann,
and brought his own genial spirit to the aid of his multifarious
researches in fields already occupied by other labourers.
Views of mythology not confined to the old limits of clas-
bobeckand sieal erudition were put forth by Lobeck and Creuzer ; and
Creuzer. when Niebuhr’s discovery of the manuscript of Gains had
Savigny. given a new impulse to the study of civil law, Savigny and
525
Niebuhr.
Schleier-
macher.
others improved the occasion with such zeal that, in Ger- Classical
many at least, there is a complete union between classical and Sacred
philology and jurisprudence. Philology.
The full effects of this new school of German philolo<ry 'v-—
were not felt in England until after the general pacification Compari-
of Europe in 1815. From that time to the present wesonof Ger*
have gradually extended our acquaintance with the labours !J?an.?"<i
of our contemporaries on the Continent; and it may now be Sology.
said that, according to the definition of those terms on 1 ^
which we have elsewhere insisted ( Classical Scholarship and
Classical Learning, Cambridge, 1856, pp. 149, sqq.'), phi¬
lological students in this country have adequately combined
the learning which is the special characteristic of German
classicalism, with the scholarship which has been hitherto
regarded as the most solid basis of a liberal education in
England. The great problem has been, to harmonize the
practical skill, the finished mastery over the resources ot
the Greek and Latin languages, which the habit of compo¬
sition in prose and verse, in our great schools and older
universities, has produced, perhaps in superabundant mea¬
sure, and in which the Germans are conspicuously deficient,
with a more general possession of that knowledge of facts
and books, that comprehensive erudition, which the nu¬
merous philological professors scattered over Germany are
generally found to possess. That such a combination is
possible,—that it is sometimes effected in a most remarkable
manner,—will not be denied by any one who is aware that
the financial affairs of this great commercial country have
been administered in succession by two statesmen of nearly
the same age, both educated with singular distinction at
Eton and Christ Church, Oxford; and that, while one ot
these has, among other learned works, produced the most
profound and critical treatise on the early history of Rome
that has appeared since Niebuhr, the other has sub¬
mitted to an elaborate review, only too much diversified by
the flights of an enthusiastic imagination, the various ques¬
tions connected with the philological analysis of the Home¬
ric poems. We refer of course to Sir G. C. Lewis and Mr
W. E. Gladstone.
Rather more than four centuries have elapsed since the Complete-
revival of literature, and the commencement of a period ness of
when modern scholars proposed to themselves the task of™”^”
recovering philologically the knowledge of the classical penology,
languages which had been lost in Italy and Greece. It is
now a long time since the more accomplished scholars of
the northern universities have been qualified to expound
Thucydides at Athens, and to explain Virgil at Rome ;
since they could write Greek iambic verse with a correct¬
ness not attainable by Gregory of Nazianzus, and could
translate their vernacular poetry into Latin elegiacs which
Claudian might have acknowledged as equal to his own best
efforts. And especially during the last forty years the
principles of philological science have attained to such fixed¬
ness and maturity, that it does not seem very probable that
any very important modifications will be introduced into the
method of study which has been established in Germany
and England. We cannot therefore conclude the brief
survey which we have taken of the history of classical and
sacred philology since the middle of the fifteenth century
without stating the results which have been secured, anc
the resources which have been collected for the use ot
philologers of the present and future ages.
The domain of classical and sacred philology has been Depart-
mapped out, with various degrees of minute detail and re- ments of
fined subdivision, by the most recent writers on the subject
(see especially F. A. Wolf, Vorlesung uber die Encyclopadie
der Alterthumsunssenschaft, published by Giirtler, Leipsic, F
1831 ; G. Bernhardy, Grundlinien zur Encyclopadie der
1 Compare what Ruhnken says {De Doetore Umbratico, p. 120), with the admission of Bdckh {Orat. A. 1826, habita), “ qui non videam
homines Graecam Latinamque grammaticam imprimis tenentes ceteris mortalibus animo bene conformato longe prsestare.
526
PHILOLOGY.
Classical Philologie, Halle, 1832; A. MatthiS, und
and Sacred Methodologie der Philologie, Leipsic, 1800 ; Haase, a .
Philology. « Philoloofe,” in Ersch and Gruber’s AUgemeine Encyclo-
v ' Vddie, part 33, Leipsic, 1847, pp. 392, It does not
appear necessary, at least for our present purpose Lhat we
should go beyond the simple and general classification sug
gested by Bockh,-namely, that philology falls into two
Sreat masses, the formal and the material, or the doctrine
of words {verbal philology), and the kn°wledge °f tlnngs
{real philology). To the first (I.) belong exegesis and
criticism, including (a) grammar, (6) leiacography, and (c)
the constitution and interpretation of the classical and sac
texts ; to the second (II.) belong {a) political history,
chronology and geography, {b) public and private an 1-
quities, (c) mythology and the archaeology of art, and (d)
the history of ancient literature and science. In all thebe
departments the labours of the last four hundred years and
especially the methodical efforts of the last half century,
have made such progress that it is not reasonable to expec
from those who come after us much more than a gradual
TT™the Greek, Latin, and Hebrew
Grammars, lammages have been subjected to the most searching ant
accurate scrutiny; and both the origin of the word-forms
and the structure of the sentences have been expounded
according to principles of scientific criticism altogether
beyond the reach of Apollonius, Priscian, or the Jewish lab-
bis. The author of these pages is of course prevented from
speaking of what he has attempted to do for the improve¬
ment of Greek and Latin grammar ; but it is right to men¬
tion, as works which have produced a marked influence on
the classical scholarship of the present century, the con¬
tributions of Buttmann and Lobeck to the establishment of
an accurate acquaintance with the forms of words {Formen-
lehre) in the Greek language, and the exposition of Gree
syntax by Buttmann, Matthia, Madv.g, and Rost 5 the me¬
trical researches of Porson, Gaisford, Hermann, and Bockh,
have left little to be desired in that department; K. L.
Schneider’s collections of the forms and inflexions of Latin
words exhaust the subject as far as he has gone; and the
numerous editions of Zumpt’s Latin Grammar, combined
with the independent researches of Madvig, have given a
lucid and accurate view of Latin syntax. The improve¬
ment of Hebrew grammar, and of that of the Aramaean and
cognate dialects, is due to Gesemus, Ewald, Fuerst, and
1.(6.) Lexi- nf^The department of lexicography attained to a com-
cography. plete and lasting development much earlier than that of gram¬
mar? We have already mentioned that the great French
printers of the sixteenth century, Robert Stephens and his
son Henry, drew up respectively complete Dictionaries of the
Latin and Greek1 languages. The Greek Thesaurus of
Henry Stephens, which was arranged, as far as the know¬
ledge of those days allowed, in etymological order, was re¬
produced in the same form but with very cop^
tions,by the English printer A. J. Valpy (London 1816-26),
and a new edition, with the words arranged alphabetically,
has been in the course of publication at Pans s,nee the year
1830, under the conjoint or successive editorship of L.B. Hase,
G. B. L. Sinner, t. Fix, L. and W. Dindort,—all German
scholars; and the work, thus remodelled and enlarged must
remain the most copious repertonum of informaUon re¬
specting the facts of the Greek language. u.^n.®re, rVe ,
dical arrangement of the significations is exhibited m the
Greek Lexicons with vernacular interpretations, of which
the first specimens were put forth by the Geiman sc 0 ai
J. G. Schneider, and his editor and abridger F. Passow.
After more than one unsuccessful attempt, Greek and Eng"
lish lexicography was placed on a satisfactory footing y
Messrs Liddell and Scott of Oxford, whose labours were
professedly based on those of Passow. The improvement,
however, of the German Dictionary by its more recent Classical
editors, Rost and Palm, will probably give rise to a corre- “^Sacred
spending effort on the part of English scholars. The Latm v ^
Thesaurus of Henry Stephens and its successor, babers
Lexicon (first published in 1571), assumed their best form
under the editorship of J. M. Gesner. But the honour of
drawing up a Latin Dictionary which should rank with the
Greek ^Thesaurus of Henry Stephens, was reserved for an
Italian scholar, Egidio Forcellini of Padua, who, after forty
years’ labour expended on his task, published his great
work in 1771, in 4 vols. folio. His countryman, Furnaletti,
enriched the work with a valuable appendix ; and the Lexi¬
con has appeared in the best form which it can be expected
to attain in the English edition by Mr Badey (London,
1826). Some Latin and German Dictionaries, especial y
that by Scheller, have merits of their own; but although the
Lexicon of Forcellini, with all its copiousness, is occasionally
imperfect, it will ever remain the greatest monument of
honest labour bestowed upon the Latm language. Ut
Latin and English Lexicons, the best representative of the
scholarship of the day is undoubtedly that of Dr W. Smit 1.
With regard to the Hebrew language, the Buxtorfs, Pag-
ninus, and others, had adequately conveyed the traditionary
interpretation of Hebrew phraseology; but a new era in
Hebrew lexicography was opened by the Thesaurus of
W. Gesenius, and the elaborate Concordance of Julius
Fuerst, and his Dictionary, which is in the course of pub¬
lication, will leave the student of this language nothing to
dt IAc.) The constitution and interpretation of the classical
and sacred texts presented the first and most necessary exegesig of
object to the scholars of Europe on the revival of letters ; text8
but it has required a long probation in grammatical and
metrical criticism to bring this department to its Prc^n1;
state of methodical perfection. It can hardly be doubted
that the great English scholars have done more than any
of their brethren on the Continent to establish the laws of
language and metre, and the principles of criticism, which
are of constant application in dealing with the texts of au¬
thors deformed by the transmitted blunders of ignorant
copyists. With regard to the sacred texts, the peculiar
feelings with which they are regarded have induced editor*
to rely as far as possible on manuscript authority, and the
most laborious collations have been made with this view.
It has been shown, however, that conjectural emendations
may be safely introduced into the Hebrew text of the Old
Testament, which has often been arbitrarily altered by the
Scribes and Talmudists ; and Lachmann, one of the most
recent, and at the same time most careful editors of the
New Testament, has asserted and exemplified the occasional
necessity of having recourse to the unaided sagacity of the
critic in certain cases of difficulty. ( Tom. ii., prsef., p. v.,
sag) In the classical authors, and especially in the poets, a
scrupulous regard for the manuscripts is seldom entertained
by any one who has mastered the details of the Gree
and Latin languages, and who knows that he has rare y
before him a manuscript authority of older date than the
later centuries of Byzantine literature. The obvious errors
found in the papyri of the newly-discovered fragments of
Hypereides, and even in some inscriptions, show that the
most ancient copyists were not more immaculate than mo¬
dern printers ; and the chances of error are infinitely mu ti-
plied when we have to deal with the last results of many
centuries of transcription. The confidence of the verbal
critic in conjectural emendation has often been confirmed
by the subsequent discovery that the alteration which he
felt to be necessary to the grammar or metre is actually
preserved in some older copy, or in some citation from the
author by an ancient grammarian. The perfection ot
modern grammar and lexicography, and the great ability
which has been brought to the study of the ancient texts,
PHILOLOGY.
527
Compara- have left us very few authors, and indeed very few inscriptions
tive or coins, which still require the care of a competent editor.
Philology. n. (a.) In history, chronology, and geography, English
scholarship has placed the results of philological research in
II. (a.) His- their most complete and perhaps final condition. Although
tory, chro- fjie great German writers, especially Niebuhr and O. Miil-
nology, ]er^ i^yg dong very much to investigate the early and ob-
8raphy° scure periods of Roman and Greek history, the classical
^ period of the former is most adequately narrated by Arnold,
Liddell, and Merivale; Gibbon will always remain the
master-work for the period of the decline and fall ; and Sir
G. C. Lewis has investigated even the early history in a new
spirit of learned scepticism. In regard to Greek history,
the labours of Thirlwall and Grote, coming close in suc¬
cession, have challenged an incontestible superiority to all
previous or contemporary labours. The Fasti of the late
Mr Clinton are the standard work on chronology. And
in geography, the learned investigations of Leake and others
are most satisfactorily exhibited in the valuable Dictionary
edited by Dr W. Smith.
II. (5.) An- II. (6.) For the collection of facts illustrative of the public
tiquities. an(] private life of the ancients we are chiefly indebted to
the laborious erudition of the Germans in the present cen¬
tury, among whom Bockh, Becker, Wachsmuth, Schbmann,
and K. F. Hermann, occupy a distinguished place.
II. (c.) My- II. (e.) In mythology, also, no other scholars can vie with
thology. the philologers of Germany. From different points of
view, Creuzer, O. Muller, and Lobeck have treated the
subject with great acuteness and exhaustive learning, T.he
archaeology of art, since Winckelmann’s time, has been
prosecuted with eminent success by German scholars.
The Archaeological Society of Pome is chiefly sustained by
students of this nation ; and the late O. Muller’s Manual
is the best text-book on artistic antiquities.
II. (d.) Li- II. (d.) The history of ancient literature is no longer
terary his- confined t0 the learned collections of J. A. Fabricius. Not
to speak of the valuable articles contained in the Dictiona¬
ries of Paulv and W. Smith, in the various Encylopaedias,
and in the Prolegomena to elaborate editions ot the ancient^
writers, many books have appeared, or are in the course ot
publication, which treat elaborately of the history of ancient
literature and science. I he history of Greek litera¬
ture, in particular, was undertaken by O. Miiller, whose
book has been recently completed; and a similar review
has been commenced on a much larger scale by Mr Mure,
of whose valuable work five volumes have already ap¬
peared. Dr Whewell’s History of the Inductive Sciences
contains all that need be said of the progress of physi¬
cal knowledge in ancient times; and the Kosmos of A.
von Humboldt is not less remarkable for the learning
with which he has collected the reports of more ancient
observers of nature, than for the genial sentiment and
graphic power with which he has stated the results ot mo-
dern investigations.
IV.—COMPARATIVE PHILOLOGY.
Distinc- Up to the beginning of the present century the great
1 tions be- fabric of classical and sacred philology, which had received
iween a gradual increase of solidity or dimensions from the con-
classical temporary or successive labours of scholars during the pre-
i parat'°m" ceding 350 years, stood by itself in a sort of solitary mag-
philology nificence. Since then there has risen by its side a method
of linguistic study, which, though it serves in many respects
as a most important auxiliary to the older form of philo¬
logy, and, conversely, derives from classical learning some
of its best materials and safest principles, nevertheless pre¬
sents many features of contrast to its predecessor, and has
not yet been able to effect the intimate and cordial alli¬
ance which is necessary for the best possible prosecution
of both. This is comparative philology, or the compara¬
tive study of languages, with an immediate reference to Compara-
the discovery of the laws which regulate human speech in tive
general, and with an ulterior application to palaeological re- Philology
searches respecting the origin of the human race and its V—^
various branches, the pre-historical condition, abodes, and
civilization of the different tribes of men, and the deriva¬
tion of those forms of religious belief which seem traceable
to some early but not otherwise discoverable contact of
nations now geographically distant from one another. The
differences between classical and comparative philology
seem at first sight sufficiently pronounced. While the stu¬
dent of classical and sacred philology bestows a minute,
searching, and critical attention on the grammars of two or
three ancient languages, with a professed and special refer¬
ence to the literature to which they serve as the key ; while,
if we except the educational results of his grammatical train¬
ing, we find that the real object of his pursuit is often not so
much the words as the things recorded in writing; the com¬
parative philologer, on the other hand, does not confine him¬
self to the classical, or even to the most ancient languages,
for every variety of human speech which is fixed in a per¬
manent form furnishes him with inductions for his science,
and is alike interesting to him; and he does not concern
himself with any literature, whether ancient or modern,
except so far as it enables him the better to investigate the
structure of language, and so to establish scientifically his
views respecting the nature and laws of human speech.
Thus, while the classical or sacred philologer studies
two or three languages, mainly, or at least professedly,
for the sake of their literature, the comparative phi¬
lologer studies not only all languages, but all litera¬
ture, for the sake of language in general, and what re¬
sults from the affinities of particular languages. But
though there is this opposition between the two different
departments of philology, and though one-sided students
in either province have been disposed to regard their fellow-^
labourers with distrust or superciliousness, philologers of
more comprehensive views have recognised the fact, that a
prolonged and critical study of some ancient language and
literature is the most satisfactory basis for the comparative
investigation of all languages with a general object, and
that no ancient language and literature can be studied in
the best manner by those who ignore the processes and ic-
sults of comparative philology. And if we speak of a
philologer in the fullest and strictest sense of the term, we
must not at the present day concede this name to any one
who has not ascended from classicalism to comparative giam-
mar, and who cannot extract scientific truth from an exa¬
mination of the structure and history of language in general.
It has been already intimated that comparative philology Rise of
did not establish itself as a recognised science until after compara-
the commencement of the present century. Indeed, its tive philo-
origin may be dated from the time when Sanscrit grammar ^gy-
began to be studied in a proper manner by European scho¬
lars ; and if a particular year may be fixed as that ot its
birth we could hardly select any other than 1808, that ot The yeaP
the death of our great verbal scholar, R. Person ; wbp1^ t'le 1808-
publication of Colebrooke’s edition of the Amara-Cosha at
Serampore, paved the way for a more convenient form ot
Sanscrit and English lexicography; when Wilkins San¬
scrit Grammar, and the notice of the book in t e
Edinburgh Review (vol. xiii.), directed the attention
of Emdish scholars to the affinities of Sanscrit^ with
the other Indo-Germanic languages; when F. Schle-
gel’s book On the Language and Wisdom of the In¬
dians awakened a similar interest in Germany ; and when
Prichard’s Inaugural Dissertation on the Varieties of the
Human Race laid the foundation of the modern science of
ethnooraphy. But long before this time, gradual and im¬
perfect approximations had been made to a comparative
analysis of ancient languages. The first beginnings were
528
PHILOLOGY.
Leibnitz.
Hervas.
Pallas.
Adelung.
Compara- due to the fruitless search among existing languages for the
tive primitive form of human speech; and as yauous i iom
Philology, ^ere selected as having the highest claim to this distinction,
v   ' the affiliation of other languages was attempted by the most
Earlier ap- vi0lent and precarious etymologies. Sometimes ie e ,
proxima- in one case the low Dutch, more frequently the Semitic
tions to a j especially the Hebrew, were favoured with this
TeTd'y recognition of priority ; but the process was in every case
ofUnguag. the same, the assumptions equally ■nadm.sstble and Ae
conclusions equally unsatisfactory. The true affinity be
tween Persian, German, and Greek was perceived by Lip-
sius (in 1599), by Salmasius (in 1643), and by D. \\ i kms
(in 1715) ; but as they had no fixed principles of philo o y,
no results flowed from the observation of the facts. 1 he
progress of missionary labour led to the translation of he
Lord’s Prayer into a variety of languages, and a collection
of these versions was made by Gesner whose
appeared in 1555, and led to the collection by Wilkins
and Chamberlayne in 1715, and ultimately to the moie ex¬
tended work by Adelung and Vater. 1 he first, however,
who prosecuted the comparative study of language on soun
principles, and saw its possible application to ethnography
was the illustrious Leibnitz. His comprehensive genius an¬
ticipated many of the future results of linguistic science, and
it was he who recommended the formation of comparative lists
of words designating common objects, which would be a basis
for the inductions of the general grammarian. Ihe hrst
elaborate attempt to carry out this recommendation was
made by the Jesuit Hervas in the last twenty years of the
eighteenth century, his various works being published be¬
tween 1784 and 1787; and about the same time appeared
the collections made by the naturalist Pallas, under the di¬
rection of the Empress Catherine II. Ihe publication of
the first volume of Adelung’s Mithndates in 1806, brings
us close upon the period which we have indicated as the
true birth-tide of comparative philology, and completes the
previous epoch of preparatory labours. Before we discuss the
rapid progress of comparative grammar subsequently to the
vear 1803, it will be desirable to notice what had been done
before, or was doing at that time, or has been done since
then, for the critical study of the three main branches of lan¬
guage which are spoken by the great Christian nations of
Europe,—the Romance, the Teutonic, and the Sclavonian.
It mio-ht have been expected that the obvious reseni-
the tio- blances of the Romance languages, and their known den-
mance lan- vation from a common origin, and not from any one of
themselves, would have attracted attention at an early
period, and led to a recognition on these data of the gene¬
ral principles of comparative philology, tor if any scholar
had merely written down in parallel columns the substan¬
tive verb in the Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Uhceto-
Romance, and Wallachian languages, he could not have failed
to see that the inflexions were but six variations of a common
type; and a very small acquaintance with history would have
taught the inquirer that this common type was to be found1
the old Latin; so that the Romance languages were all siste ,
the daughters of one mother. This conclusion, extended to
all the members of the Indo-Germamc famdy, is the primal y
result of comparative philology in general. But thou
scholars to whom these languages were vernacular had, bom
the time of Dante, noted many peculiarities common to
them, and though even the Byzantine Greek, Laonicus
Chalcondyles, had remarked in the fifteenth century the
affinity of the French and Italian (p. 89, ed. Bonn.), no nn^
was done for the methodical philology of the Romance lan¬
guages before the time of Raynonard, who was born in
1761, but did not publish the first volume of his Ghoixdes
Poesies Originales des Troubadours till 1816. ^ His ^ est
predecessors—Menage, in the seventeenth, and St Palaye,
in the eighteenth century—had only entered on the confines
of the subject. But his Grammar and Lexicon, and the
Study of
the Ro-
guages.
Rayno¬
nard.
abundant examples which he collected, have placed Ro- Compara-
mance philology on a scientific footing, and enabled h.s sue-
cessors, especially Diez, to deal on the principles of com-
parative grammar with all the languages which derive their
origin fiom the Latin. . . c ti m The Teu-
The founder of the comparative philology of the Teu-The^
tonic languages was an English non-juror, George Hickes, c es__
whose Thesaurus Grammatico-Criticus et Archaeologicus Hickg_
Linquarum veterum Septentrionalium, published in 1. lo,
indicated, however imperfectly, the results which might be
obtained from an examination of the affinities of the Ger¬
man and Scandinavian languages. He had no doubt de¬
rived great advantage from the Maeso-Gothic studies of
Francis Junius, a German settled in England, who died m
1677 ; and the increasing attention which was subsequently
paid to the venerable remains of Ulfilas, the Sanscrit of
the Teutonic family, and to Anglo-Saxon literature, con¬
tributed to pave the way for the establishment of a scien¬
tific school of German philology. The application to this
work of a comprehensive and original mind is due t0
Rasmus Christian Rask, a native of Denmark, who com- Kask,
menced in 1807, while still a young man (he was born in
1787), a series of labours which have placed him in the
highest class of linguistic discoverers; and it has been well
observed {Edinb. Ret,, vol. 94, p. 317), that “ Rask s works
on the classification and comparison of languages are the
best specimens of what could be accomplished m compa¬
rative philology without the aid of Sanscrit.. Li the
years 1807-1812 he occupied himself with writing Giam-
mars of most of the Germanic, Scandinavian, Sclavonian, and
Romance languages—making references occasionally to the
Indian idioms. In 1812 he travelled to Sweden and laid
the foundation of his knowledge of the Finnish dialects, in
1813 he went to Iceland, where he spent three years; anc
in 1814 appeared his prize essay On the Origin of the Old
Norse or Icelandish Language. His perception of the
affinities of the German and Asiatic languages led him to
undertake, in 1820, an overland journey to Persia and
India; and the fruit of his linguistic studies in the East
appeared in his essay On the Age of the Zend Language,
and the Genuineness of the Zendavesta, publisher by agt
in 1826. On his return to his native country in L/ ,
he engaged in a long series of linguistic labours; and he
died in November 1832. For Teutonic philology he did
more than any of his predecessors and contemporaries, and
may really claim the honour of having first noticed the lav
of the permutations of consonants, which is generally con-
nected with the name of James Lewis Grimm. Ihis dis- Gum .
tinguished philologer,born two years before Rask, may be said
to have completed the edifice of which that great linguis la^
the foundations. His German Grammar (1819 1840) has
subjected the whole range of the Teutonic dialects to a
comparative analysis, and in the first volume he has esta¬
blished, by a copious induction, to which, however, there are
some exceptions not yet fully explained the laws tor the
regular interchange of the mutes, which Rask had less com¬
pletely indicated. His subsequent works, The Legal Anti¬
quities of Germany (1840-1842), his German Mythology
(1835-1844) his History of the German Language (lc4o),
and his German Dictionary, now in the course of publica¬
tion, have brought all the resources of philology to bear on lus
Teutonic researches. In this department, however, we must
not forget to mention the valuable labours of our own conn-
trymeip the late Mr J. M. Kemble, who not only revived j M. Kem
among us, but prosecuted with eminent success, the study bie.
of Anglo-Saxon; Dr R. G. Latham, who, in addition to R. G. La-
more general labours in comparative philology, has for thetham.
first time expounded the principles of English gramrnai,
and investigated the ethnography of the British Islan'ls’^
accordance with the results of modern science ; and tlic
kte Mr Richard Cleasby, who devoted his life, during a R. Cleasby
PHILOLOGY.
529
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
Sclavonic
philology
—Dobrow-
sky.
chafarik.
Study of
Sanscrit.
Hulked,
Jones, and
Werdin.
Cole-
brnoke,
"Wilkins,
and Wil¬
son.
Bopp and
A. W.
Schlegel.
long residence at Copenhagen, to the compilation of a Dic¬
tionary of the old Norse or Icelandic language, and whose
great posthumous work is about to appear at Oxford, under
the competent editorship of Dr G. W. Dasent.
The Sclavonic languages, spoken by a hundred millions
of Christians in the east of Europe, have not failed to claim
their share in the general interest of philologers. 1 he father
of Sclavonic philology was Joseph Dobrowsky, born at
Gyermet, near Haab, in 1753. Of his numerous works, in
which he penetrated for the first time into the peculiar
structure of the Sclavonic idioms, the most important was his
InstitutioneslAnguce Sclavicce 7)ialecti Veter is ienna, 1822.
In the path which he opened Dobrowsky was successfully
followed by Paul Joseph Schafarik, who was born at
Kobeljarowo in Hungary in 1795, and whose History of
the Sclavonic Language and Literature (Ofen, 1828) is
the classical work on the subject. I lie great Polish Lexi¬
con of Samuel Gottlieb Linde, born at 1 horn in 1/71, is a
complete treasure-house for the comparison of the Scla¬
vonic languages. It appeared at Warsaw in the years
1807-1814. The Lithuanian, Lettish, and Old Prussian,
which have many features in common with the Sclavonian,
and have made most important contributions to the mate¬
rials of comparative grammar, have been habilitated in this
domain by C. G. von Arndt (1818), J. S. Vater (1821),
and A. F. Pott (1837).
But these detached labours bestowed on the different
languages of Europe would not have produced, even in
connection with the old classical philology, the necessary
unity of results, if they had not been assisted and guided
by the critical and grammatical study of the old language
of the Brahmins. The striking resemblance between the
Sanscrit, Persian, Greek, and Latin languages had been in¬
cidentally noticed by Mr Halhed as early as 1776, when he
edited the codeof Gentoo laws, and afterwards in 1778, when
he published his Bengali Grammar at Hoogly; and Sir Wil¬
liam Jones, and the German missionary John Philip Werdin,
had—the latter with very slight knowledge of the subject—
carried their observations a little further. In order that
satisfactory progress should be made, it was necessary that
Sanscrit, and the books written in it, should be really known;
and for this the world is indebted to the abilities and indus¬
try of certain Englishmen, especially Mr Colebrooke, Sir
Charles Wilkins, and Professor Horace Hayman Wilson.
When this safe foundation had been secured, it was easy to
use it in building up the superstructure of comparative philo¬
logy; and labouring in the same field with llask and Grimm,
who, in one sense, led the way in the new science of compa¬
rative philology, Edward Francis Bopp (born in 1791), and
Augustus William Schlegel (born in 1767, died in 1845),
were the first who applied Sanscrit scholarship, as a branch
of European study, to a general analysis of the structure
of human speech. In Yus Conjugutions-systeni dei' Sanskrit-
sprache (Frankfurt, 1816), which appeared four years after¬
wards in an English form {Annuls of Oriental Literature,
Lond. 1820), Bopp gave the first specimen of that ela¬
borate and exact scrutiny of grammatical forms, which
has made him the chief authority in ail that relates to the
comparative philology of the Indo-Germanic languages.
The works which contain his linguistic discoveries are,
besides the early treatise which has just been mentioned,
his Essays On Certain Demonstrative Roots (1830), and
On the Influence of the Pronouns (1832) ; and above all,
his Comparative Grammar of the Sanscrit, Zend, Greek,
Latin, Lithuanian, Old Slavonic, Gothic, and German
(1833-1852), which fully established the original identity
of the pronominal words and inflexions in all those lan¬
guages. Schlegel, in a journal called the Indische Bihlio-
thek, of which the first part appeared in 1820, did a great
deal both to stimulate the study and extend the knowledge
of Sanscrit among his countrymen ; and a long series of
von. XVII.
Grammars and Lexicons, together with editions and transla- Compara-
tions of Sanscrit texts, have appeai'ed from the pens of Ger- tive
man scholars who for the most part have never travelled Philology,
in India. It is true that these home-students have occa-
sionally fallen into errors (see, for examples, Gildemeister’s
tract entitled Die falsche Sanscritphilologie aus demBeis-
piel des Herrn Dr Hoefer, Bonn, 1840) ; and that they
have often engaged in comparative philology without a
competent knowledge of Sanscrit. Others, again, have
limited their acquirements to the Indian languages, and
have seen Sanscrit names and Sanscrit ideas in domains to
which they could not have penetrated. But there are in¬
stances, on the contrary, where this learning of the Ger¬
man universities, when directed by competent talent and
sagacitv, has produced fruits equal to those which have
ripened on the soil of India itself; and Christian Lassen, Lassen,
in particular, a Norwegian settled at Bonn (born at Bergen
in 1800), has either anticipated, or made good by important
additions, the discoveries of Rawlinson at Baghdad and of
James Prinsep at Calcutta. It is to be remarked, however,
that the best edition and translation of a Sanscrit classic that
has appeared in Europe, at least the most extensive labour
of this kind, is the Rdmdyana from the Gaudana recension,
published at Paris by the Italian scholar G. Gorresio. The Gorresio,
best Sanscrit grammars are those by Wilson and Monier L-L-^ ‘1
Williams ; and the same two scholars have produced as ®®n’,rUU
  >    , . ^ , M. Wil-
yet unrivalled Dictionaries—the former in Sanscrit anclj..^
English, and the latter in English and Sanscrit. In one
important department of Sanscrit learning, the study of the
oldest religious books of the Brahmins, the publication of
the Rig- Veda, the most ancient and important of these
books, has been undertaken by this country; but the
editorship has been intrusted to an able and learned Gei-
man, Dr Max Muller, who is established as Taylorian F Ro^n
professor at Oxford. He has thus completed the work com-
menced by his countryman, the late Professor F. Rosen, of1
University College, London. _ . f f
While Sanscrit scholarship was connecting itself thus ^udy oi
intimately with the development of comparative philology, ^
collateral” aid of the most important kind was derived Rom sian-
an improved knowledge of another Arian language still
spoken in the original abode of the Indo-Germanic lace.
This was the oldest form of the Medo-Persic idiom. In the
middle of the eighteenth century, Anquetil du Perron hadDu Per-
introduced into Europe a knowledge of the old languages
of Persia, the Zend and the Pehlevi or Huzvaresh the
former deriving its name from “the book ^(Zmrf, San¬
scrit Ctikandas), which contained “ the text (Avestd) of
the Zoroastrian religion; and the latter from tie icroic
race {pahlau, “hero;” hu-zvaresh, “good heroism ) who
spoke it. But the most inconsistent and erroneous opinions
were entertained respecting the nature and relations o these
languages, until Bask, after his journey to the Eijst, both Ra,k.
established the genuineness of the Zend language and ex¬
plained its true nature as an ancient type of the modern
Persian. The complete establishment, however, of Zend
as an important ingredient in Indo-Germanic philology is
due to Eugene Bmnouf (bom in 1775, died in 1856), who B™f.
in his Commentaire sur le Ya$na (Paris, 183o), submitted
the Zend texts to a critical analysis, and arrived at philo¬
logical results strictly analogous to those obtained by Grimm
in German, and by Bopp in Sanscrit grammar. He has
been followed by Spiegel and Westergaard; and it is now
agreed that the Zend language represents a phase of the
Arian speech very similar to the Sanscrit of the Vedas,
and that the Avestd, in its original form, was drawn up
probably in the north-eastern provinces of Persia—those
on the borders of Sogdiana and Bactria—at some period
anterior to the establishment of the South Persian dynasty
of the Achaemenidae. The language of South Persia under
these kings has been recovered from the cum ifoim in-
3 x.
530
PHILOLOG Y.
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
Cuneiform
inscrip¬
tions.
Eawlinson
Study of
Pali.
Prinsep.
Armenian
philology.
Petermann,
Windisch-
mann, and
Diefen-
bach.
scriptions of the first Darius, which have been completely
deciphered and interpreted by the perseverance and sag -
city of Sir H. Rawlinson, assisted by the previous labo s
of Grotefend, Burnouf, and Lassen I he language of the
Sassanian dynasty, the Pehlevi or Huzvaresh, though Indo
Germanic in its grammatical structure, is, like modem
Persian, only of secondary importance to the comparative
^Another collateral aid to the sutdy of Sanscrit, as a main
ingredient in comparative grammar has been finmshe y
the researches of scholars in the field of Pah recoup In
the sixth century b.C. Buddhism arose in India; and it
supposed wkh reason that the Pali, which is the language
of the Buddhist books in Ceylon, and which I'as maiiy
points of affinity with the Prakrit, or popular language of
KI as represented by the dramas of the fhst centtny
B.C., was the ordinary dialect ot the Hmdus at ti e time
when Buddha preached. A language vcn’
been traced in the inscriptions ot t re gt ea ,,
Asoka, calling himself Pivadasi, who retgned from BXt 2b0
tn 090 and the interpretation of whose edicts is the nloiy
ofour coimtryman James Prinsep. For, as Mr Prinsep justly
observed, “ the Huddliists, like all sects who have appeale
to the common-sense of the people against the learning
and priestcraft of the schools, made use of the vernacu¬
lar dialect ” That the Pali was a language corrupted by
oral and perhaps provincial use is shown by many significant
peculiarities, such as the omission of the liquid r, which is
almost regular : thus the Sanscrit kntva, “ having made,
becomes katv<l in Pali ; drishtvd, “ having seen, becomes
(Usva . sruted, “ having heard,” becomes sutvd ; and so on.
IiTlhct, its relation to the Sanscrit is that of the Romance
lanlua-es to tlie Latin ; and on this account, among others,
it is an object of interest to the comparative plulologei.
It owes most to the researches of Burnouf and Lassen, who
bave done so much for the study of old Persian.
Armenia, as the traditionary cradle of the human race,
naturally invited the attention of comparative philologers
as soon as their science had gained an adequate amount
of fixity But although the Armenian is exhibited in a
copious literature, these works are not more ancient than
the fourth century a.d, and the spoken language is much
corrupted bv an inf usion of Turkish ingredients. I he
grammar, however, is still decidedly Indo-Germamc; and
bv a philological analysis of its forms, such as that undei -
t.fi-en by Petermann, Windischmann, and Diefenbach, its
affinities to the other members of the Ar.an family have
Swoons of Armeman my.hoiop, winch to a certain
tiTedpthe state-
borne vamaoie i j t ^ Armenians were
colonists of The “"tetooci
related to tile Cappadocians or, t between the
Sauromatse on the other. Stnkm < Dalmatia have
Armenian and the languages ot hat tWi-inal
been pointed out. And it is not unlikely ™
ingredients of the Armenian anguage rep-esent in a ve y
ancient form the speech winch was common o the oddest
Arian settlers in Europe. (See \V mchschmann s Grwd
des Armenischm im Ahha • •
liayr. Akad. iv. lid. Abtli. ii.; Diefenbacli s Review of Fete
n,ami’s Grammar, JaMiicher d. m«e«sc/n ^rid*, 1843,
Nos. 56, 57; Botticlier, Aricu; Gosche, DeArmna
gentisque ArmeniactB indole; Ellis, Contributions
Ethnography of Italy and Greece.)
In the valleys of the Caucasus, to the north of Armenia,
an isolated branch of the Indo-Germanic family of languages
has attracted the notice of philologers. This is the Ossetian, Compara-
from the name Os, given by the Georgians to the peop e, phl;ol
who call themselves Iron. Their own traditions point to ,
a time anterior to the thirteenth century, when their terri¬
tory extended from the Caucasus to the Don ; and there The Osse-
can be little doubt that they are an outlying hi and) of the e
old Sarmatian stock. Klaproth first called attention to lie
linguistic importance of their idiom, which is not represented
i ° iPornturP • and the Royal Academy of Berlin sent
S- cLrge TosT (a bfother of the lute br F, Rosen) to G- Kosen.
the Caucasus to learn the Ossetian language from the lips
of the Ossetians. The philological results ot this expeditioi,
which Rosen has published with the co-operation of Bopp,
are an important addition to the materials of comparative
gtammai-riier atterapts tQ fieal philologically with the Celtic phi-
languages were marked by the usual defects o conjee
etymology. The credit of having brought these banished,
and in some of their last homes already obsolete idioms
within the domain of comparative grammar, is due to JJt
Prichard, the founder of ethnography, whose '.
Eastern Origin of the Celtic Nations appeared n 1831 ,^1^^.
and to his reviewer, the late Mr Richard Garnett, one of
the most original and accomplished philologers whom this
century has produced. Mr Garnett’s contributions to Cek c
and general philology, we are happy to say, are about to be
republished in a collected form. On the Continent Dr
Prichard has been followed by Bopp, Pictet, Diefenbac ,
and others. The results of their researches we, e made
known by Dr Charles Meyer in the Report of the Bntish ey
IZcialn for 1847 ; and he added the
studies, which he had prosecuted w,th great d> «e"ce
the countries where Celtic is still spoken. I he Oram
rmtim Celtica of J. C. Zeuss (Leips. 1853) has en ered Zeus,
fully into the antiquities of the Celtic languages, and has
exhibited scientifically the relations of the different dialects
with reo-ard to the laws of sound and the development
the inflexions ; and some important contributions to Celtic
philology are contained in the Ethnographic Gauloisc
f Paris 1858) of the Baron de Belloguet. _ Belloguet.
( Independently, however, of the more recent invest.ga- Oenenure-
tions into the nature of the various Asiatic and Lul01)t^ Indo-Ger-
branches of the Indo-Germanic family of languages, the ma.ni(;phi.
affinity and mutual relations of these modifications o m- lologv esta-
- U« - s:d -
B* GLTr and the
first volume of Void Etymological *Seare/iei. appeared
together, there lias been no doubt that, from the Gan„
and the ridges of the Vindhya Mountains to the *oies
of the Baltic, the Mediterranean, and tte At antic, one
great mother tongue.is spoken, or pieset
and that, although the different Anan or W"-G«tnamc
races are no longer able to understand «■« >nothe.^
thoimh, in fact, long and earnest study is lequued betore
the more distant members of the family can intuc i g^
oral communications, and though a similar effmt is
quired to pass from t!,e living to the dead fo™s o he
same lantuuumvet there must have been a time when
he or giital representatives of these widely-separated tribes
were united on the table-land of Iran, bound by' t es of
brotherhood, and speaking the common speech, which
almost be reproduced by , comparison ot die d ffe, ent o ms
of its living children or of their direct progenitois emba me i
in classical and sacred literature In this
now seen that there are six main branches—I. Ihe 1 . of the
II. The Medo-Persic, including the Armenian, Osst ,
PHILOLOGY.
Compara- and their modern offspring the Romanee languages, namely,
tive t]le Provencal and French, the Italian, the Spanish and Por-
Philology. t,jgUesei t]ie Rliaetianj ancl the Wallachian. The Indo-Ger-
^ ^ manic family, then, comprehends, besides some of the most
important Asiatic languages, all the languages of Europe, ex¬
cept the Turanian idioms spoken by the Finns, Laplanders,
Hungarians, Bulgravians,and Turks, and the isolated Basque
or Euskarian language still vernacular in the north-west of
Spain. In all these Arian languages, not only are a vast
number of the most common and necessary words traceable
to an identity by the application of certain established laws
for the permutations of consonants, but it can be seen tha*
531
their system of inflexions, and all the machinery of their Compara-
grammar, either now works, or must at one time have tive
worked, according to the same organization. The results Philology-
are as certain as those of any other department of inductive
science ; and there is little room either for felicitous con¬
jecture or ingenious blundering.
It may be worth while to show, by a few specimens, the Arian Phi-
nature of the induction on which Arian philology depends. lolosy—n-
We shall therefore exhibit some of the most important 1UStratU>nS‘
resemblances of the Indo-Germanic idioms, in those words
which belong to the inherited treasures of every lan<mao-e
and in the elementary forms of the nouns and verbs.*3 °
English.
“ Eye ”
“ Tooth ”
“ Ear ”
“ Right-hand ”
“ Knee ”
“ Foot”
“ Heart ”
Sanscrit.
akshi
dantas
ghosha
dakshina
janu
padas
hardaya
hailis
“ Sun ”
“ Moon or month” masa
“ Sea ”
“ Water ”
«< Fire ”
“ Day ”
“ Night”
“ Winter ”
mi rah
uda
agnis
diu, dina
nisa, nakta
hima
“ Horse ”
“ Ass ”
“ Ox or cow '
“ Sheep ”
“ Dog ”
“ Garden
“Wolf”
“ First ”
“ Second ”
“ Third”
“ Fourth ”
“ Fifth ”
“ Sixth ”
“ Seventh ”
“ Eighth ”
« Ninth ”
“ Tenth ”
“ I am ”
“ Thou art ”
“ He is ”
“ We two are ”
“ Ye two are ”
“ They two are ”
“ We are ”
“ Ye are ”
“ They are ”
“ I give ”
“ Thou givest ”
“ He gives ”
“ We two give ”
“ Ye two give ”
“ They two give ”
“ We give ”
“ Ye give ”
“ They give ”
a9vah
g°
avis
9van
hansa
vrikas
prathamd,
dvitiya
tritiya
chaturtha
panchama
shashta
saptama
ashtama
navama
dafama
asmi
asi
asti
’svas
’sthas
’st§,s
’smas
’sthd
santi
dadami
dadasi
dadati
dad-vas
dat-thas
dat-tas
dad-mas
dat-tha
dada-ti
Zend.
ashi
dashina
genu
padhas
1.—Parts of the Body.
Lithuanian. Sclavonian, Gothic (Scandinavian). Latin.
aids
dantis
ausis
deszine
kielis
padas
szirdis
oko
ucho
dessna
koljeno
serdze
augo
thuntus
auso
taihsvo
kniu
fotus
hairto
2.—Natural Objects or Measures of Time.
ashpa
gaos
9pa
vehrko
frathema
bitya
thritya
tuirya
pugdha
cstva
haptatha
astema
nauma
dasema
ahmi
ahi
asti
stho
sto
hmahi
stha
henti
saule
mienu
mares
vandu
ugnis
diena
naktis
ziema
aszwa
asila
gows
awis
szun
zasis
wilkas
solnze
miesez
more
voda
ogni
den
noch
zima
3.—Animals.
(as)kobyla
osel
bulk
owza
sabaka
gansior
wolk
sauil
mena
marei
vato
anhus
dags
nahts
eikur
asilus
ku
avis
hunths
gaas
vulfs
oculus
dens
auris
dextra
genu
pes=peds
cor(d)
sol
mensis
mare
unda
ignis
dies
nox
hiems
equus
asinus
bos
ovis
canis
Greek.
oy-y.K=or -fx.ix, or ox too.
o ^oVyZ^o^ovr-g
r
ou<x.$
Ssg/a
yovu
y.upoiu.
tlkios
Wit)
VOWf)
Ziug, Ail., riyioa.—S/a-
in-rot (fiKKos)
oy<r))ios
fovt
5
xvav
anser %nv
lupus, hirpus Xuxot
4.—Numerals (Feminine Ordinals').
pruma
antru
trecia
ketwirta
pankta
szeszta
sekma
aszma
dewinta
deszimta
esmi
essi
esti
esva
esta
esti
esmi
este
esti
pervaja
vtora-ja
treti-ja
cetvertaja
pjataja
shestaja
sedma-ja
osmaja
devjataja
desjataja
• Verb Substantive.
fruma
anthara
thridjo
fidvordo
fiinfto
saihstd
sibundo
ahtudo
niundo
taihundo
yesmi
yesi
yesto
yesva
yesta
yesta
yesma
yeste
somte
prima
altera
tertia
quarta
quinta
sexta
septima
octava
nona
decima
(e)sum
d-u~ioa.1 iri^u.
rot tv
nroi'i-rv
nty.n-rri
ixrv
llllo/joti
cydov
ivvdrv
dsxdrv
ist
siju
sijuts
sij um
sijuth
sind
est
(e)sumus
estis
(e)sunt
dadha-mi
dadha-hi
dadhai-ti
6.— Verb Active, Present Tense (in the above six Languages^.
dud-mi dad-mj giba do
dud-i dad-si gibis das
dus-ti das-ti gibith
dud-wa dad-eva gibos
das-td dus-ta das-ta gibats
das-t6 dus-ti das-ta
dade-mahi dud-me dad-my gibam
das-ta dus-te das-te gibith
dade-nti dus-ti dad-jaty giband
dat
damus
datis
dant
tiro-i
iirrt
iir-rov
‘iarov
itrfiit
i'tr-rs
(iir)svr/
2 -fit
ctlai - $
2i$eo-Tj
Sido ror
'Mho-fit*
hiho rs
-tcrfit
“ I carried,”
“ Thou didst carry,”
“ He did carry,”
“ We two did carry”
“ Ye two did carry,”
7.— Verb Active, Augmented Tense (in Sanscrit and Greek.)
. _   “ They two did carry,” a-bhara-tam
“ We did carry,” a-bhara-ma
“Ye did carry,” a-bhara-ta
“ They did carry,” a-bhara-n
-bhara-m
-bhara-s
-bhara-t
-bhara-va
-bhara-tam
H .
i-tptgfi
i-<pt£t-rti*
t-<pigo-[ior
i-tpift-rt
i-tft^o*
532
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
PHILOLOG Y.
8. Three Nouns Declined (in Sanscrit and Greek).
Singular.
Nominative
Genitive
Dative
Accusative
Vocative
Dual.
Nom.-accusative
Gen.-dative
Plural.
Nominative
Genitive
Dative
Accusative
Sanscrit.
mati-s, data, bharas
maty-as, datur, bara-sya
maty ai, datar-i, bhare
mati-m, datar-am, bhara-m
mate, datar, bhara
mati, datar-au, bharau
mati-bhyam, datri-bhyam, bhara-bhyam
matay-as, datar-as, bharas
mati-n-am, datri-n-am, bhara-n-am
mati-shu, datri-shu, bhare-shu
mati-s, datri-n, bhara-n
Greek.
ftwrl-S (poaos
fj.Yin-o; ipMt>(<r)ia
fAvn-i, 1or7,(> i, (fiogcu
dorUg x, (po^o-v
(Ann, forrig, poot
'Sorvp-sQopa,
[Anri-oiv, ^oT'/i^-otVy poao-iv
ftn-Ti-t;, Sorijg-sj, <po^-oi
[Atirt-iuv, So'rjjj-aiv, cpog-av
(A'/iTi-tri, ’Soriig-iri, Qo/ioi-ffi
(Anri-a.;, f/.n’TiS, SaTJjg-aj, Qo/tovs
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
9.—Simple Demonstrative, in the Singular (in the Six Languages).
Sanscrit.
Nom. sa, sa, tat
Gen. tasya, tasyas,
tasja
Dat. tasmai, tasyai,
tasmai
Accus. tam, tam, tat
Zend,
ho, ha, tat
tahe, tanhao,
tahe
tahma, tanhai,
tahmai
tom, tanm, tat
Lithuanian,
tas, ta, tai
to, tos, to
tam, tai, tam
tan, tan, tai
Sclavonic,
t’, ta, ta
togo, toja, togo
tomu, toi, tomu
t’, tu, to
Gothic,
sa, so, thata
this, thizos, this
thamma, thizai,
thamma
thana, tho, thata
Latin,
is-te, is-ta, is-tud
i-tius
Greek.
Oj fi, va
<ro(ir)io, tvs, ro(tr)io
*TCt)) T57, tm
is-ti
is-tum, is-tam, is-tud <rov, t«v, to
P0. yt Common Noun Declined in the Lithuanian of the Baltic, and
in the Sanscrit of the Ganges.
Singular. Sanscrit.
Nom. sunu-s, “ a son.”
Gen. sun6-s, “ of a son.”
Dat. sunav-e, “ to a son.”
Accus. sunu-m, “ a son.”
Voc. sun6, “ 0 son.”
Instr. sun-u-na, “ by a son.”
Loc. sunau, “ on a son.”
Dual.
Nom.-acc.
Gen.-loc.
suniij “ two sons.”
sunv-6s, “ of or on two
sons.”
Dat.-instr. sunu-bhyam, “ to or by
two sons.”
Lithuanian,
sunu-s. “ a son.”
sunau-s, “ a son.”
sunu-i, “ to a son.”
sunu-n, “ a son.”
sunau “ 0 son.”
sunu-mi, “ by a son.”
sunu-je, “on a son.”
sunu, “ two sons.”
sunu, “ of or on two sons.”
sunu-m, “ to or
sons.”
by
two
Plural.
Nom.-voc.
Gen.
Dat.
Accus.
sunav-as, 1 sons,
sunu-n-am, “ of sons.”
sunu-bhyas, “ to sons.”
  sunu-n, “ ions.”
Voc.-instr. “sunu-bhis, “by sons.”
Loc. sunu-shu, “ on sons.”
sunu-s, “ sons,
sunu, “ of sons.”
sunu-ms, “ to sons.”
sunu-s, “ sons.”
sunu-mis, “ by sons,’
sunu-se, “ on sons.”
To show that these languages, exhibiting such marks of
affinity, need not, on that account, claim any one of their
number as the parent-stock, but may all have sprung from
one common source, it is only necessary to make a similar
comparison in the case of the Romance languages, which
we know may be derived from their common mothei, the
classical Latin. Let us take, for instance, the substantive
verb in six of these languages, and we shall see that the
form in each bears a relation to sum, different from that
which this latter does to any of the five forms with which
we have compared it above:—
Latin. Italian. French. Spanish.
sum
es
est
sumus
estes
sunt
sono
sei
e
siamo
siete
sono
suis
es
est
sommes
etes
sont
soy
eres
es
somos
sois
son
Portu¬
guese.
son
es
he
somos
sois
sab
Walla-
chian.
es
Rhoetian,
sunt,
eis.
e ei
suntemu essen.
sunteh esses,
sunt ean.
It is clear, on the most cursory inspection, that all these
forms are derivatives from sum ; and we shall be still farther
convinced of their secondary condition if we find, as we do
on farther examination, that the substantive verb in the
Romance languages generally borrows some of its tenses
from the Latin stare, “to stand;” that all Romance verbs
of the regular type form their future by annexing the
present term of habere, “ to have,” in its corrupted state,
avere, haber, aver, or avoir, to the infinitive mood of each
verb, which in the Provencal is often separated by the in¬
terposition of another word ; and that although the French
alone forms its infinitive from stare (for tire is the modern
form of ester, from estar), while all the other Romance lan¬
guages have their infinitives formed from esse (Ital. essere,
Prov. esser. Span. ser\ yet the future ser-ai of the french
substantive verb proves that they must once have agreed
in this point also. While, then, the resemblances of these
forms among themselves are analogous to those ol the suo-
stantive verb as it appears in the older Indo-Germanic
languages, including the Latin, we are able to trace their
derivation from this idiom, just as we can derive the 1 laknt
from the Sanscrit; but we cannot thus deduce any of the
older Arian languages from another of the same class. e
see the same marks of resemblance among the dialects
themselves, combined with still more striking proofs of de¬
rivation from a common original, in those cases in which a,
tendency to abbreviation, already observable in Latin, has
been consistently carried out in the principal Roman lan¬
guages. Take, for example, the habit of dropping the letter
d when it is flanked by two vowels.. That this took place
in ancient Latin is clear, not only from the old pronuncia¬
tion, as indicated by the exigencies of the comic meters, but
even by a few instances in which this letter is omitted in
writing. Thus, while we see that pater a.m\ quidem^ were
often monosyllables, we remark that the d is absolute y
dropped in writing in such forms as esfor edis, est for edit, and
perhaps item for itidem. This tendency, which is only in¬
dicated in Latin, becomes uniformly phenomenal in the
Romance languages, and not only d, but t, disappear in most
of the words which have passed, without direct boilowing
at a later period, from Latin into French or Italian. If we
compare the old words Noel and naif with the forms nata
and native, which have been taken from the Latin since
the French became a fixed language (Schlegel, Obsena-
tions sur la Langue et la Literature Provempales, p.
44), we shall see that this omission of the t must have
prevailed among the Roman provincials themselves, and
was not caused by anything peculiar to the trench arti¬
culation. Sometimes this dropping of the dental is ac¬
companied by other absorptions, which reduce the original
word to a bare residuum. Thus the pronominal adjective
meme, signifying identity in general, Spanish mismo,
Portuguese mesmo, although the dental is retained in the
Italian medesimo, is quite a disguised representative of
the original memet ipsissimum. To extend these compari¬
sons is not our present duty. The few samples which we
have given will suffice to show the nature of the evidence
on which the comparative philologer has to rely.
PHILOLOGY.
533
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
Extensions
of Arian
philology.
Compara¬
tive gram¬
mar com¬
bined with
the old
classical
philology.
Buttmann.
F. Rosen.
K. 0. Mul¬
ler.
The scientific certainty, attained by these researches of
comparative philology in the domain of the Arian or Indo-
Germanic languages, has not unnaturally led to the wish on
the part of those who have prosecuted them, that they might,
on the one hand, be connected with the results of the older
classical and sacred criticism, and, on the other hand, that
they might be extended so as to embrace primarily the
Semitic languages, which are connected by their literature
rather than their idiomatic texture with those of the Arian
race, and one of which holds a place by the side of Greek
among the studies of the older school ot philology ; and so
as to reach ultimately to a classification of human speech
in general, and thus to form a basis for the collateral science
of ethnology.
A combination of the results of comparative grammar
with those of the older classical philology was sure to take
place sooner or later, and sooner rather than later. Just
about the time when the study of Sanscrit literature was
beginning to establish itself in Europe, several scholars,
who had not yet made acquaintance with this guide to
the analysis of organic inflexions, exhibited a tendency to
seek for etymologies in the classical languages by a more
rational system of comparison with other tongues than had
previously been attempted. For example, Buttmann
showed, by the various articles collected in his Mythologus,
some of which date as far back as the end of the last cen¬
tury, by his Lexilogus, pf which the first volume appeared
in 1818, and by his paper on the Electron, which was read
in the same year, that he was in spirit a comparative philo-
loger, and would have made an ample use of his opportuni¬
ties if he had lived a few years longer, or had been born a
few years later. The German language, in particular, was
brought into direct comptirison with Greek and Latin, not
always scientifically, but sometimes quite correctly, by Drs
Jamieson, Hunter, and Carson in Scotland, and by Jaekell
and Ramshorn in Germany. In the year 1828, the establish¬
ment of Dr F. Rosen as professor of Sanscrit in University
College, London, awakened the attention of classical teachers
and students in that institution to a sense of the important
results which might be obtained by a combinatian of Greek
and Latin philology with the methods which had resulted
from the comparative study of Sanscrit grammar. In 1836,
only three years after the appearance of the first part of
Bopp’s grammar, one of the most eminent philologers of the
old school, K. O. Muller, expressed himself in the following
decided language (Kleine Schriften, i., p. 12):—“It has
now indeed come to this, that philology must either renounce
altogether any historical knowledge about the growth of
language, and all etymological researches into the form of
roots and the organism of grammatical structures, or trust
herself in these matters entirely to the guidance and coun¬
sels of the comparative study ot language.” It is true that
some of those who had obtained eminence in classical cri¬
ticism, and their immediate disciples, regarded comparative
philology with much suspicion and distrust. For example,
Godfrey Hermann, in the paper which suggested Muller’s
remarks, had spoken with some contempt of those “ who
sought light from a sort of aurora borealis, reflecting the
gleams of eastern illumination, and who, betaking themselves
to the Brahmins and Ulfilas, endeavoured to explain Greek
and Latin by the help of languages which they only half
understood.” Another eminent verbal scholar, K. A. Lobeck,
in his Aglaophamus (published in 1829), in his Paralipo-
mena (published in 1837), and in his Pathologia (published
in 1843), indicated how little confidence he had in Sanscrit
as a help to the Greek grammarian. And the same protest
against the claims of Sanscritism was made in 1835 by F.
Ellendt, a pupil of Lobeck, in the Preface to his Lexicon^
Sophocleum. In January 1837 the Imperial Academy of
Sciences at St Petersburg published a scheme for a prize
essay on the Greek dialects from which all consideration
of Sanscrit was to be excluded. It was about the time when Compara-
these opposite opinions were entertained respecting the tive
propriety of an intimate alliance between the old and new
philology, that the writer of these pages, who had been indi-
rectly brought within the reach of Rosen’s influence in
1829-30, undertook to prove that, by making the classical
languages, and especially the Greek, the basis of a scientific
method of comparative grammar, not only would the general
results be more definite and important than those which
had been obtained by starting from the Indian or Teutonic
members of the Arian family, but that very great advantages
would redound to the improvement of Greek and Latin
philology in particular. The first product of these studies
appeared in February 1839, the second in 1844; and the
author’s labours have been continued in this field down to
the present time, either in successive editions of these ori¬
ginal works, or in auxiliary labours having the same object
in view. There are still strong prejudices in favour of the
old-fashioned methods of teaching Greek and Latin gram¬
mar, arising chiefly from a conventional and conservative
bias in favour of established traditions ; but it is to be hoped
that the stream of philological speculation has finally turned
its course into the right direction, and that those who
undertake to reason on the grammar and word-forms of
the classical languages will from henceforth seek their
rules and principles in the method which has been con¬
firmed by the comparative study of the Arian family as a
whole.
From the comparison of the Indo-Germanic idioms with Compara-
one another, the general philologer’s next step was to con tive philo-
sider the relationship between the different families of^yex^
languages; and his attention would be arrested primarily gem°ic
by the Semitic group, one of which had connected itself iangUages.
with the special studies of the older school of criticism.
The general result of the philological analysis, in the case
of the Arian languages, was to show that all words were
ultimately reducible to monosyllabic roots, which were, so to
speak, set in a framework of significant prefixes and affixes.
On the other hand, the Semitic languages presented, both
in their nouns and verbs, a basis of triliteral or bisyllabic
roots, beyond which the analysis of the grammarian did not
attempt to penetrate. As early as the seventeenth cen¬
tury it had been suggested that these triliteral roots may
have been primarily biliteral. Michaelis was prepared, in Michaelis.
the latter part of his life, to relinquish the triliteial system
(see Adelung, Mithridates, i., p. 302); the great ci ideal
Hebraists of the present century, Gesenius and Ewald,
had admitted that, by recognising monosyllabic roots in
Hebrew, we might compare that language with the vaiious
members of the Indo-Germanic family; and Klaproth, in Klaproth.
1828, plainly asserted that the Hebrew roots were originally
and properly monosyllabic. (“ Observations sur les Racines
des Langues Semitiques,” in Merian’s Principes de l Etude
Comparative des Langues, pp. 212, sq.) A more formal
and systematic attempt to establish the original monosyl-
labism of the Semitic languages, and especially of the
Aramaic branch, was made by Julius Furst in Ins Le/fr-Fiirst.
qebaude der Aramdischen Idiome, mit Bezug auf die Indo-
Germanischen Sprachen (Leipsic, 1835); and in h^Veteris
Testamenti Concordantice (completed in 1840). The pro¬
cedure of Furst was recommended in an enthusiastic and
somewhat extravagant manner by his pupil, F. Dehtzsch, Delitzsch.
in his Jcsurun (Jsagoge in Grammaticam et Lexicogra-
phiam Linguae Hebraicce contra G. Gesenium et H. Eival-
dum), which appeared as an Introduction to Fiirst’s Con¬
cordance in 1838. Meantime jEmilius Rodiger, who, like Hbdiger.
Delitzsch, belonged to Halle, and has succeeded Gesenius
in that university, was prosecuting similar researches with
regard to the structure of the oldest form of Arabic; and
a ^young scholar, Charles Richard Lepsius, who had en- Lepsius.
joyed the advantage of direct intercourse with the best
534
PHILOLOGY.
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
Decipher¬
ing of
hierogly¬
phics.
Benfey.
Schwartze
Bunsen.
philologers at Leipsic, Gottingen, and Berlin, and was
pursuing his researches at Paris in the domain of the old
Egyptian and Coptic languages, published some essays in¬
dicating the most remarkable genius for philology, and
tending to establish the affinity not only between the Indo-
Germanic and Semitic languages, but also between both ot
these and the old language of Egypt. (Palaographie afs
Mittel fur die Sprachforschung zundchst aus Sanskrit
nachgeiviesen, Berlin, 1834 ; Z,wei Sprachvergleichende
Abhandlungen, ib. 1836.) In the last of these essays
Lepsius quite established the affinities ot the Egyptian,
Semitic, and Indo-Germanic languages, in regard to the
numerals and some of the most important of the prono¬
minal elements.
And here the discovery of the clue to the Egyptian
hieroglyphics (see articles Egypt, Hieroglyphics, Citam-
polijon), produced an immense influence on the deter¬
mination of the problems to be solved by those who would
establish the affinities between the two central families of
languages. As the hieroglyphic, hieratic, and demotic in¬
scriptions have been partially deciphered, as the gramma-
tical forms have been established, and, the interpretation of
particular words ascertained and the virtual identity ol the
Coptic with the language of the Pharaohs placed beyond
doubt, the newly-acquired knowledge has been pressed into
the service of comparative philology, and elaborate works
have been written, not merely for the purpose of exhibit¬
ing the relationship between the Semitic and the old Egyp¬
tian (as in Benfev’s treatise Vber das Verhdltniss der
Agyptischen Sprache zum Semilischen Sprachstamm, Leip-
sic, 1844), or of analysing the structure of the Coptic lan¬
guage with reference to the principles ol Indo-Germanic
philology in general (as in M. G. Schwartze s gieat woik,
Das Alte AEgypten, Leipsic, 1843, of which he lived to
write only the Introduction, in more than 2000 closely-
printed quarto pages!), but still more, in oidei to make
Egyptology a sort of elevated standing-point, from which
alf the realms of ethnography and philology might be sur¬
veyed, and the most distant and isolated points brought
within the range of view. Phis undertaking has been at¬
tempted chiefly by Bunsen, who has completed in five
volumes his work entitled AEgyptens Stelle in der IVeltge-
schichte (“Egypt’s Place in Universal History,” Hamburg,
1845-1857), and has discussed some of the same subjects
in a more general and miscellaneous book, or collection ol
treatises, called Christianity and Mankind, their Begin¬
nings and Prospects (London, 1854). It is Bunsen s
theory that “ the Egyptian language is the point in uni¬
versal history at which the creative energy of language still
shows its original form, just before it raises its pinions akflt,
and assumes in the world-ruling nations an entiiely dif¬
ferent and more spiritual form, while in the other races,
according to laws not yet explored, it sinks into the atomic
and mechanical, or at best deflects into subordinate ramifi¬
cations.” (AEgypten, i., p. 338.) Looking back over a period
of more than 20,000 years, this philological speculator re¬
cognises a time when the as yet undivided families ot
Japhet and Shem lived together in a civilized state in
Northern Asia. From this undivided Asiatic stock Egypt,
according to Bunsen, must be a colony, gradually degene¬
rated into the African type, for the old Egyptian language
claims affinity at once with the Aramaic idioms in imme¬
diate contact with it, and with the Indo-Germanic tongues,
with which it has no direct commerce. {Report of the But.
Assoc., 1847, p. 280 ; Mgypten, iv., Pref., p. 10.) It must
be owned that these sweeping conclusions do not rest upon
philological inductions of the most accurate kind, and are
supported by arguments which are sometimes as arbitrary
as they are precarious.
Meanwhile the comparative philology of the Semitic
languages has been assisted by other palaeographical dis¬
coveries scarcely less important than that of the hiero- Compara-
<dyphic,syllabarium. At the beginning of the present cen- tive
tury, Professor G. T. Grotefend (born in 1775) made a Phl‘ology.
first attempt to explain the cuneiform or arrow-headed
writing of the old Persian inscriptions. His discovery was D'ISC0very
announced in the Gottingen Literary Gazette of 1802; but®* key
a full account of it did not appear till 1815, when it was n0eifo°i®u."n_
given in the appendix to the third edition of Heeren’s SCriptions.
Ideen. The subject was pursued without any 5mPortant Grotefend.
results by M. Saint Martin, whose Memoir was read at
Paris in 1823. More valuable verifications were secured
by Rask’s identifications in 1826 of the signs of M and N Bask,
in the name Acluemenes. In 1836 appeared Burnout’s Burnouf.
Memoir on the cuneiform inscriptions of Hamadan, which
contained some interesting discoveries; and in the same
year Lassen published his work on the Old Persian Cunei- Lassen.
form Inscription of Persepolis, which supplied an identifi¬
cation of at least twelve characters mistaken by his prede¬
cessors, and which secures for him perhaps the most honour¬
able place in tins band of decipherers. Meanwhile, how¬
ever, an able British officer was prosecuting in the East,
and with complete success, the cuneiform studies which the
learning and ingenuity of these European scholars had
already advanced so far. In 1835, Major (now Colonel Sir
H. C.) Rawlinson, being posted at Kermanshah, on the Rawlinson.
western frontier of Persia, began to direct his attention to
the cuneiform alphabet, and the inscriptions written in it.
With the exception of Grotefend, none ot the other labourers
in this field were known to Rawlinson. He did not re¬
ceive Burnouf’s Memoir till 1838, the year after he had
sent to the Asiatic Society his translation of the first two
paragraphs of the Behistun inscription ; and it was only in
1839 that Lassen sent him a precis of his improved system
of interpretation. By this time, chiefly by the aid of Bur¬
nouf’s Ya^na, he had completed a literal translation of
some 200 lines of cuneiform writing, and by the year 1846
this was augmented by more than 400 lines, and the Per¬
sian portion of the Behistun inscriptions of Darius I. was
no longer a sealed book to scholars. 1 hat inscription,
however, like others of the same age, was trilingual. Be¬
sides the Persian recital of the deeds of Darius, which Raw¬
linson had mastered, there was a Semitic or Aramaic ver¬
sion for the conquered inhabitants of Assyria and Baby¬
lonia; and one in a Tataric or 1 uranian dialect, for the
benefit of the Scythian tribes beyond the Oxus. As early
as 1845 Rawlinson had recognised the Semitic character
of the second, or, as it stands on the monument, the third
of these inscriptions, and had begun to examine the proper
names in it; he had also surmised that the other inscription
was Turanian, and not, as some inferred, Median ; and the
soundness of this opinion has since been established by Mr
E. Norris. Rawlinson prosecuted his investigations respect- Norris,
ing the Assyrian inscriptions, comparing the Behistun
monument with the bricks and other excavated memorials
from Nineveh and elsewhere, till, in 1849, he was enabled
to decipher and interpret some of these ancient records,
and to ascertain the nature of the language in which they
were written ; and his views have been confirmed in many
points by the contemporary and independent labours of Dr
E. Hincks, who has done a good deal towards exhibiting Hincks.
the grammatical structure oV this old form of the Semitic
languages. The result of these inquiries has been to show
that the language spoken at Nineveh in the days of Serw
nacherib and his predecessors was a very ancient type of
the language which is recognised as the basis of Arabic
and Hebrew.
The oldest form of Arabic is that which is still spoken in Ancient
the south of Arabia. Its primitive type is exhibited in the
Himyaric inscriptions which have been fully invest'gat.e^ y'aric in-
since 1830 by Fresnel, Gesenius, Rbdiger, and Ewald. Lin- gC1.iptions.
guistic affinities show that the Ethiopic or Abyssinian, which
PHILOLOGY.
535
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
Sinaitic
inscrip¬
tions.
Beer.
Tuch.
Classifica¬
tion of the
Semitic
languages.
Contacts of
the Arian
and Semi¬
tic families
to he
sought in
the Sclavo-
nian.
is called Gheez by the people who speak it, is an offshoot
from the ancient Himyaric.
Another ancient form of the Semitic, approaching to the
Arabic in many points, has been learned from the inscrip¬
tions in the peninsula of Sinai. Although these inscrip¬
tions had been known for many hundred years, they were
not deciphered till Dr E. Beer of Leipsic published his
account of the alphabet in 1840-1843 (Inscriptiones veteres
Litteris hue usque incognitis ad Montem Sinai servatce) ;
and his views have been carried out with complete success
by Professor Tuch {Zeitschrift d. Deutsch. Morgenl.
Gesellsch., 1849, pp. 129-215). It is concluded, with much
probability, that the language of these inscriptions is that of
the ancient Amalekites and other Bedouins of the Sinaitic
peninsula.
These palseographical investigations, combined with a
more rational system of grammatical criticism, have enabled
scholars to settle the mutual relations of the Semitic lan¬
guages, and to determine the area occupied by them and
the distinctive peculiarities of their structure. The best
classification of this group of languages seems to be the
following:—!. The old Babylonian or Assyrian, established
in the primitive abodes of the Semitic race between the
Tigris and the western borders of Iran. From this the
Aramaic dialects—the Chaldee and Syriac—derive their
origin. II. The old Canaanitish, of which the Hebrew and
Phoenician were important dialects. III. I he old Arabic,
of which the Ethiopic and Abyssinian are offshoots, and
which is represented by the modern Arabic in all its literary
and geographical developments. IV. The old Egyptian,
which is a deposit of some ante-historical Semitic idiom,
disorganized by certain local influences. It is represented
in a modern form by the Coptic. V. The Berber dialects
scattered over the whole north of Africa, from Egypt to
the Atlantic Ocean, and still distinct from the cognate
Arabic of the Mohammedan conquerors.
In seeking a point of contact between these languages
and those of the Indo-Germanic class, it has seemed most
reasonable to the writer of these pages to look to the dis¬
trict where one of the oldest, if not the very oldest, of the
Semitic tribes appears to have been geographically conter¬
minous with a very old Indo-Germanic people,—namely,
the district that was occupied by the ancient Assyrians and
Babylonians, in close contact with the old Sauromatae or
Sclavonians. He has developed the following argument in
a special essay on the subject (“ On two Unsolved Pro¬
blems in Indo-German Philology,” Report of the British
Association for 1851, pp. 143, sqq.) The Sclavonians may
be identified with that branch of the great Iranian family
which occupied Media, and therefore in their original home
stand in close contact with the Assyrians of the adjoining
plain. Now, these Assyrians, according to Ilawlinson’s
investigations, spoke a very old form of the Semitic lan¬
guage. But, according to a general agreement among
scholars, the Chaldeans, who conquered the plains of Meso¬
potamia in the eighth century b.c., were an Indo-Germanic
tribe, whom some identify with the Sclavonians, while
others called them Medo-Persic, which is much the same
thing. Consequently, Semitic and Indo-German tribes
were in close contact, if not intermingled with one another,
on the banks of the Tigris. When, therefore, we find that
although the Sclavonian and Semitic tongues stand in direct
antithesis or contrast so far as their state or condition is
concerned,—the former being marked by the fulness of
the etymological forms, and the absence of syntactical ma¬
chinery, and the latter by a triliteral uniformity and a per¬
vading syntactical mechanism, — they nevertheless pre¬
sent, both in words and forms, the most remarkable indica¬
tions of original affinity, we are hound to conclude that the
inference from their geographical contiguity is philologically
also valid and satisfactory.
Even if the relationship between the two great central Compara-
families of language—the Indo-Germanic and the Semitic—
were fully ascertained and established, the comparative PhUofogy-
philologer would not have completed his examination of
the affinities of human speech. For (to say nothing of the Outlying
languages of America and Central and Southern Africa) the |?ro“1)S
idioms spoken by the Finns, Hungarians, and Turks in anSua°es*
Europe, and by the tribes scattered over the whole of
Northern and Eastern Asia, together with the dialects of the
aboriginal inhabitants of Southern India, constitute a class
of linguistic phenomena, which differ in the most striking
manner from the Arian and Aramaic types. An attempt,
however, has been made to classify these languages, and to
group them together in accordance with certain peculiari¬
ties which they have in common. These languages are
called by the general name Turanian, a word derived from Turanian
the root tur, signifying “ to be swift,” “ to roam aboutand fami y-
therefore indicating generally the nomadic character of the
tribes which are distinguished by these varieties of human
speech. The first beginning of the scientific classifica¬
tion of the different members of the Turanian family
was made by John Sainovics, who, in 1770. publishedSainovics-
at Copenhagen his Demonstrcdio Idioma Hungaricum
et Lapponicum idem esse. He was an Austrian astro¬
nomer of Hungarian extraction, and had noticed these
affinities when sent with Kell to Lapland in 1764. The
same position was maintained by Ihre-Oehrling {De Con- Ihre-Oehr-
venientiaLinguce Lapponicce cum Hungarica, Upsal, 1777); lmg-
and Hager (A ewerc Beiveisen der Verwandtschaft der Ungarn Hager.
mit den Laplandern, Vienna, 1794). But the most com¬
plete work on the subject was Dr Samuel Gyarmathi’s A/// ayarmath-
nitas Linguce Hungaricce cum Linguis Finmccs^ Originis
grammatice demonstrata (Gottingen, 1799). I his work
proves the identity of the Hungarian with all three of the
Chudic dialects, the Finnish, the Esthonian, and the Lap¬
pish ; and adopts in the proof a truly philological method.
\ comparison of the Asiatic branches of the 1 uianian
family was first attempted by Klaproth {Reise in den Kau- MaProt '
kasus, 1814); and the whole of the un-Anan and un-
Semitic races were boldly grouped together by the great
philoloo-er Bask (fiber die Thrakische Sprachklasse, 1818 ;
Zend-Sprache, 1826), under the general name of Scy thian.
He found in the language of Greenland a link of con¬
nection between the idioms of Asia, Europe, anu Amenca;
and divided the great Scythian race into four main classes,
—the North Asiatic, the North American, the 1 atar, and
the Mongol-Tungusian. The details of the subject were
prosecuted with great success by William Schott, who, c 0 •
after stating the case in his Essays on the latars and Finns,
published in 1836 and 1847,.went fully into the linguistic
proofs in his valuable paper Uber das Altai scheoder Fin-
nisch- Tatarische Sprachengeschlecht (Ber m, 1849). At
the same time, Alexander Castren of Helsingfors by h.s Oast
travels and the various treatises in which he expounded the
results of his inquiries, beginning with hu Flementa Gram-
rnatices Syrjcence, published in 1844 and ending with h.s
Reise-Erinnerungen, published in 1853, complete!} esta
blished the general principles of 1 uran.an philology, borne
nf those views especially those of fechott, have been con-
troverted by'Bcehtlingk (Uber die Sprache der Jakuten, Bceh in? '
18olV but the general features of resemblance have been
undoubtedly recognised: the peculiar system of vocaliza¬
tion the process of agglutination by which the naked roots
are formed into words, the identities in certain primitive
terms such as the numerals, which in such widely scattered
tribes’could not have been borrowed by mutual intercourse
in the historical ages,—all this, and much else that might
be mentioned, would render it considerably more difficult
to establish the total independence and diversity of the
Turanian tribes than to seek in the peculiar circumstances
of their dispersed and nomadic condition for a natural ex
Rask.
536
philology.
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
Wax Mul-
er.
Classifica¬
tion of the
Turanian
languages.
.American
family.
Original
unity of
the human
race.
Process of
dispersion
from the
common
home.
planation of the heterogeneous elements in this wide-spi ead
manifestation of human speech. The suhject has beel ,
well discussed in English by Dr Max Muller, that we need
only refer to what he has written on the subject in t .
volume of Bunsen’s Outlines of the PMosophy
ml History (London, 1854), or in his own htUe woik On
\he Languages of the Seat of War in Me (second
edition, London, 1855). The classification of ^ —
languages, according to the most recent reseal dies, is t
following .[-I. The Finnic, including the Hungarian Bul-
garian, Chudic, &c. II. The Samoiedic, divided into the
northern and eastern branches. III. The TmEish or Ta-
taric including the Usbeks, Turcomans, Baskirs, Yakuts,
Rumelians, and Anatolians. IV. The Mongohc, including
17astern or Proper Mongols, the Western Mongols,
such as the Kalmucks, and the Northern Mongols, such as
the Buriats. V. The Tungusic, divided into the western
and eastern branches. To these must be added, according
to the researches of Max Muller, the Tamuhc, Bhotiya,
Tai and Malay languages of the aboriginal tribes inhabit¬
ing’the Deccan, the sub-Himalayan plains, the trans-Ga -
o-etic empires of Siam and Assam, and the Eolynesia.
There are many striking resemblances between this last
group of Turanian languages and the Chinese ; and we aie
stromdy inclined to think that the latter is mere y a foim
of the Turanian variety of human speech brought into a
different state or condition, by the change from the noma¬
dic to the city life. 4.1 Tnrn-
The languages of America, to the south of that iuia
nian fringe0which is occupied by the Esquimaux, have no
vet been brought into recognised relationship with those of
he older comment. Among themselves however they
fall into distinguishable groups, and both their raditions
and certain peculiarities in the laws which regulate the
word-formations, point to the north-east of Asia as the on-
gin of their race, and to the Turanian languages as the
Parent-stock of their idioms. If this shall evei be esta
blished on evidence which the philologer can admit as
scientifically valid, diversities of language wdl oppose no ob¬
stacle to the traditionary belief of the unity of the human race,
a belief confirmed by the invariable testimony of history,
that man has ever occupied new and vacant regions by mi¬
gration and by the same process which is still in full acti¬
vity. So far as it is allowed to anticipate by conjecture the
results which comparative philology, in its widest range,
mav one day hope to realize, the following will be the
ultimatum of linguistic ethnographyMankind was divide
in the ante-historical period into two great connected farm-
wSTriv'edTeT.oHaUon'of all Africa. From the Indo-
Germanic, primarily settled on the great table- and of Iran,
was derived an unbroken series of connected tubes extena
htgint" India to the south-east, and Spreadmgt*e..onh
and west over the whole ot Europe. Of these tubes the
oldest it seems, were the Celtic emigrants. Next in anti
S ’or in the date at which the, left the r home m Asm
were the Sclavonic nations, including the I-‘thuan,an^ and
the last or newest im.nigrat.on into Europe a “
Teutonic tribes, beginning with those winch we call the Low
Germans. About the time when these Low Germans left
the north-eastern frontier of Iran, it is pto a
Asians began their descent from Bokhara m the d ec on
of the Punjab ; and it is calculated roughly that this must
have been about 1400 B.C.; so that the Hindu-Artans are
among the youngest members ot the family in re eicnce
tiie period at which they settled in their new abodes though,
being among the last to leave their native seats, t ley iave
retained more compietely perhaps than any of the sis er
tribes the original characteristics of the language once
common to them all. The traces of Indo-Germanic affinity, Compara-
which are still perceivable in the Turanian ull0T"s’ ’e" ^ Philology,
it probable that these nomad races broke away f om Iran ,
at various periods of undefinable antiquity, or in hordes or
clans inconsiderable in number; and that, being kept apart
bv the very circumstances of their pastoral and wandeung
L they lost more and more the original type of their lan-
Ifuace, and fell into a mode of speaking suited to their de¬
tached and deteriorated condition. Where geographical
advantages led to re-centralization, as in China, these dis¬
integrated languages assumed new forms, passed, accord¬
ing to one proposed subdivision, from the nomad to the
state or political type (Max Muller in Bunsens Wo/
the Philosophy of Universal History, i., p- 28-), an c
nected themselves with literary developments, which again
influenced their structure. In accordance with this geneml
view of the population of the world, spreading f'om a co *
mon origin and a common home over the whole face of t e
clobe_a view which rests on the oldest records of the
Can race, and is supported bS the .nduebons of phtU-
Wv as far as the comparison of languages has been cai
ried’up to this time,-we have proposed the foUowmg clas-
sification of the varieties of human speech
§69);—Languages are either (A) Genual 01 ( ) } v .
In the first of these classes there are two ««»
cions (1.) The Indo-Germamc or Anan , (2.) I he fee
niitic or Syro-Arabian. In the second we place a l the
African and Turanian languages, adding to them, wuhout
^ ve anv accurate means of approximauon, the vanet es
of speech found in America and the Pacific Ocean. And the
Sporadic languages also apportion themselves ■" two|roups
to the two subdivisions of the central class, the African
languages belonging to the Semitic, and the Turanian claim-
ngf however faintly, some affiliation to the Anan stock
Such are the results, obtamed or P'obab e>. ^ J Sri., of
comparative philology has fortified the conclusions of tte pr.ch>rj
new science of ethnography. I he foundei of that science, aiid A y.
Dr J C Prichard, concluded a general survey of the sub- Humboldt.
Ret with the following words {Report of the British Asso¬
ciation for 1847, p. 253):-“! may venture to remark,
that with the increase of knowledge m eveiy dueLtlja ’
we find continually less and less reason for believing at
the diversified races of men are separated horn each otlier
by insurmountable barriers.” And A. von Humboldt to .
whom he refers with gratification at bav^S ar .;ed f thef
same ultimate conviction has thus exp. essedh.s sense
the achievements of philological science Langu ,
'he saysU»»»h P- 142) “when compared together
and considered as objects ot the natural lustoi) of e
mind and when separated into families according to tne
analogies existing in their internal structure, have become a
“dr source of historical knowledge ; and thts -s probably
one of the most brilliant res,dts of -de n smd^m Ae
last sixty or seventy yeais. from the )
being products of our intellectual powe.s, they lead us
back bv the elementary character of their organization, to
a,robscVe distance, ulrreached by traditionary^ ^
The comparative study of languages shows how races no
separated by vast tracts of land aie a icc , , ^
and have migrated from one common pumi i\ c ,
indicates the° course and direction of all
in tracing the leading epoch of development, icc > 7
means of the more or less changed structure of the lan
itua^e, in the permanence of certain forms, or n
or less advanced destruction of the formative sysem,
portion of the race has retained most nearly the languag
common to all, who had migrated from the general
0f But comparative philology has not been cont^t ^h
furnishino- the ethnographer with the most impoitant dat
. foi file establishment of the great religious and moial
PHILOLOGY.
537
Compara- truth, that all men spring from one blood, and are distin-
tive guished from all other living creatures not only by the
Philology, common possession of reason, but by the common inheri-
tance of a language impressed with the same laws, and
Applica- bearing in the central and most civilized nations the most
tion of phi- marketl traces of its derivation from a common source.
^he>deter comparative philologer not only undertakes to prove
altar of a malignant deity. Not to speak of the interrupted Compara-
sacrifice of Isaac, the legend of Iphigenia, the substitution tive
of whipping the boys at the shrine of Artemis Orthosia
instead of slaying them outright, and even the fight of
gladiators at the grave of the deceased warrior instead of
immolating the prisoners of war, as we see in the Homeric
funeral of Patroclus, must be regarded as so many mani-
mhiation oftliat mankind, now dispersed over the whole face of the festations of the instinct of humanity, whether the original
earth, were at one time a united family ; but he is enabled, nractiee of homicidal adoration, and the cannibalism which
the ante- eartn, were at one time a umteu lamny ; uume is enauieu, practice of homicidal adoration, and the cannibalism which
historical by an examination of the common elements of language, was its still earlier prototype, was or was not connected with
condition t0 ascertain the nature of the civilization which men en- the Semitic worship of Moloch. The attempts made by
and primi- joy^ and of the religious belief and worship which re- some of the German scholars (who have taken up this ap-
tive belief prese^tej tiie;r spiritual aspirations, at a period long anterior plication of comparative philology with the enthusiasm pe-
° maD' to their local separation. “Comparative philology,” says cnliar to their class'l to sunnort their inferences bv ctvmoln-
Max Muller {Oxford Essays for 1856, p. 11),“ has brought
this whole period within the pale of documentary history.
It has placed in our hands a telescope of such power that,
where formerly we could see but nebulous clouds, we now
discover distinct forms and outlines; nay, it has given us
what we may call contemporary evidence, exhibiting to us
culiar to their class) to support their inferences by etymolo¬
gical researches, have not often been very happy. Conced¬
ing, for example, that the elements of the Greek and Sanscrit
’Ereo/oV^s and Satydgravas may be referred to identical
roots, and that the compounds convey in every way pre¬
cisely the same complex notion, it seems to us little less
than absurd to suppose, as Dr Kuhn has done [Zeitschrijt
the state of thought, language, religion, and civilization, at /. Vergl. Sprachf, iv., p. 100), that the son of Qidipus, who
a period when Sanscrit was not yet Sanscrit, Greek not yet ’n eH-ifi* at Tfiphos is thp samp mvtbnWiral
logy.
Greek, but when both, together with Latin, German, and
other Arian dialects, existed as yet as one undivided lan¬
guage, in the same manner as French, Italian, and Spanish
may be said to have at one time existed as one undivided
language in the form of Latin.”
Compara- As these applications of comparative philology fall into
fvemytho-tw0 Jjstinct classes, one referring to the primitive history,
the other to the primitive belief of a race, it would be de¬
sirable to have them designated by two distinct names.
To the latter application the name of “ comparative mytho¬
logy” has been given, and very high functions have been
claimed for it by the eminent German writer to whom we
owe the first English essay on the subject. “ If,” says Max
Muller {Oxford Essays, 1856, p. 86), “ Hegel calls the dis¬
covery of the common origin of Greek and Sanscrit the dis¬
covery of a new world, the same may be said with regard
to the common origin of Greek and Sanscrit mythology.
The discovery is made, and the science of comparative
mythology will soon rise to the same importance as compa-
.. rative philology.” It appears to us that, in the delight which
The comparative philologer feels in this application of his
own
died in fratricidal strife at Thebes, is the same mythological
personage as the Satydgravas mentioned in the Rig- Veda,
who is designated as Sahtyas, “ the strong” or “ victorious,”
and who is called the offspring of Vayya, to be identified with
Adtos by a change of v into/./ Comparative mythology,
as it appears to us, is only valuable, when viewed in con¬
nection with ethnography, and when a due regard is paid to
the antiquity of the myths and to the circumstances under
which they originated. Every nation is capable of working
up the old materials into new forms and combinations ; and
even at a comparatively late period fresh additions to a
pantheon are devised or borrowed. Only imperfect in¬
formation would confuse between the Sarapis of the Ptole¬
mies and the old deities of the Pharaohs; and no Indian
scholar would suppose that the Siva worship, which was intro¬
duced during the historical ages, or that of Krishna, which
exhibits some traces of the influences of Christianity, ami
perhaps echoes even the name of the Author of our faith,
were connected by direct descent with the \ aidic ages, when
the Arian forefathers of the Hindus were offering theSoma-
drink {i.e., the juice of the Asclepias acida) to theii. piimae-
val and elementary divinities. If, therefore, woiship could
own grammatical principles to the examination of ancient change, and mythology could be created in t le compar y
beliefs, he is apt to be carried beyond the proper limits of later ages of Egyptian and Indian history, we ought sme y
the investigation, which he pursues with such justifiable allow an equal elasticity to the plastic imagination -
tne in ga ’ ■* 1 - lect cient Greeks, and abstain from impugning by precarious corn-
enthusiasm, or, at all events, that he is liable to neg
the other considerations by which his theories should be
guided and corrected. Mythology cannot always be treated
pansons their well-established claims to poetical originality. .
To the other of these new applications of comparative linguistic
philology—namely, the attempt to make language telHhe
strictly according to the laws oflanguage. When we recog- r —- . , 'f0r;nr m tho commencement 01,‘J
J   a number of history of ancient times long anterior to the commencement tioD
_ r i i A   4-^ f ho n‘imnr
nise a community of religious fable among
different nations, this may be the result of contacts sub¬
sequent even to a comparatively recent historical period,
or it may arise from something common to the human
of written annals,—we would propose to give the name of
“linguistic records of civilization and we recognise in this a
means of making discoveries at once certain and important.
By examining words of constant occurrence which are com-
mind, and suggested by circumstances which may occur ^ branches of the Jndo-Germanic family, we are
in any country, and at any epoch \V ith regard to the former mon to all t anterior to the separations of the dif-
of these, it is clear that the dualism which prevailed among earned back to a t'm^ a interoretation of the
the Jews after their captivity, and which was not know,, to ferent glimpses of the Jde of life which
them before, was a direct result of their intercourse with the
Medo-Persic race, which had for a long time cultivated this
form of religion ; and its adoption by the rI eutonic nations,
in connection with a corrupted Christianity, was only in part
a result of their inheritance of a mythology ultimately
traceable to their primitive home in Iran. On the other
hand, the legend which we find in all countries of the in¬
terruption of some attempt to sacrifice a human victim, and
the substitution of some lower animal as a sort of vicarious
atonement, seems to be due in every case to an independent
origin,—namely, to the feeling of revulsion with which a
better instinct or a better culture must always, sooner or
later, repudiate the practice of slaying human beings at the
VOL. XVII.
could alone have given rise to such designations. In the
same way, we argue that the words which are common to only
a limited number among the different languages must either
show that these branches remained in contact, after the otheia
had left the common home, or, perhaps, in some new home,
or must be received as a proof that the separation from the
primitive stock was in these cases a very early one. We
may take as an example the word designating “son” m
the chief Arian languages. The common Sanscrit term is
putra, and in Celtic we have a form virtually identical—
paotr. But this exact resemblance is not recognisable in the
synonyms found in other branches of the family. As we
538
PHILOLOGY.
Compara
tive
know that the Celts were not in contact with the Indians at
a iate period, this phenomenon alone is a strong confirmation
Philology. 0ptiie ^0,.^ resting mainly on other considerations, that the
v * Celtic tribes were those which first left Iran, and that, they
did so when putra oxpaotr was the one term for son used
by the Iranians; that is, before other terms were introduced
or generally adopted. Conversely, there is no term m
Sanscrit, or in the Teutonic and Sclavonic branches ot the
family, corresponding immediately to the Greek <£mos or mos,
and its Latin congener filins, both of which are derived, the
latter with a patronymic affix peculiar to the Italian races,
from the common root <£w<o or fio, “to be born. from
this we infer with certainty a contact or union between the
forefathers of the Greeks and Italians long after their sepa¬
ration from the one Arian race, and before they branched ott
into the two peninsulas which they have rendered illustiious.
The Sanscrit sunu, Gothic sunus, and Lithuanian sunus, as
well as the received derivation of the Saxons as Saca-sunus,
“ sons of the Sacse,” point to a very ancient time when this
was the common expression for sonship. The word is derived
from sw or swi, “ to beget,” which is as much older than <£m
or fi as svehrs is than/era. So that the more recent contact
of be Greeks and Italians is proved by the contrasts of the
two sets of affinities. When, however, all the terms oi a
class are the same in the different languages, we are entitled
to infer that the objects designated had a distinctive value in
the earliest days of the Arian race; and if we can discover
their etvmology and primitive meaning, we are sometimes
led to very interesting conclusions, which place the every¬
day life of our common ancestors before our eyes in the
most vivid pictures. Thus every one of the Indo-Germamc
languages, except the Latin, has the same word for daugh¬
ter”—namely, some variety of our English term : Sanscrit,
duhitar; Zend, dughdar ; Sclavonic, dukte ; Irish, dear ;
Greek dvydrnp; Gothic, dauhtar. And the etymology of
the Sanscrit word from duh, “ to milk, paints the simplicity
of a pastoral age when the daughter of the house was most
naturally utilized as the milk-maid of the kine. Similarly,
the “brother” bears our English name in every language
of the family,—namely, Sanscrit, bhrdtar ; Zend, brdta ;
Sclavonic, brat; Irish', brathair ; Greek, ^parr]f>; Latin,
frater ; Gothic, brbthar. And though the common Greek
word to express this relationship is dSeX^ds “ from the same
womb,” the use of ^parqp to denote one .of a more genei al
fraternity, for the purpose of mutual assistance, is in more
strict accordance with the original signification of the San¬
scrit word, i.e., “ the bearer” or “ helper (root bhnjero),
which points to the mutual relations of the brothers in a
primitive community. Although it is clear, from then-
linguistic records, that these primitive Anans recognised
the sanctity of domestic relations; although they honourec
the marriage tie in its only true form, that of monogamy,
and had names for all the affinities which spring from that
contract; and though there is every reason to believe that
they were acquainted not only with domestic life and the
domestication of animals, but even with navigation and the
use of the oar (for we have the Sanscrit naus and aritram,
corresponding to the Greek and Latin vails, navis, epergos,
remits), the fact that they have only one common name
for grain (Java, which means “ spelt’ and barley m San¬
scrit; jawai, the Lithuanian name for corn ingeneia;an
&Fd, which means “ spelt” in particular), and the absence
of any designation for agricultural implements, have been
considered sufficient to justify the inference, that t le n o
Germanic tribes had not, at the time when they were sti
aggregated in Iran, passed from the pastoral to the agri¬
cultural mode of life. On the other hand, we see that the
European branches of the family, before they separated
into the Sclavonic, Teutonic, and Grseco-Latin tribes, had
made this further advance in civilization; and Mommsen
has justly inferred from a number of specific facts that
“ the transition from a pastoral to an agricultural life, or, to Compara-
speak more accurately, the combination of an agricultural tive
with the more ancient pastoral economy, must have taken v ^ °
place after the Indians had separated themselves from the "
maternal bosom of the nations, but before the Hellenes and
the Italians had become distinct peoples. Moreover, when
these latter first began to practise tillage, they seem to have
been united with other members of the great family; at
least, it is a fact that the most important of those agricultural
terms, though strange to the Asiatic members of the Indo-
Germanic family, are common to the Roman and Gieek,
with the Teutonic, Sclavonic, Lithuanic, and even Celtic
tribes.” {History of Rome, Introduction, pp. 16, 17, Ro¬
bertson’s translation.)
With this brief notice of its latest and most important
application, we must leave the subject of comparative philo¬
logy. Before, however, we bring this paper to a close, it will
be desirable that we should look back on the whole field which
we have rapidly surveyed, and endeavour to indicate the
place which philology, as a distinct science, is entitled to
occupy in the encyclopaedia of human knowledge. ™
Considered in its full compass, and in all the develop-Functions
ments which belong to its definition as the .methodical in
study of language with reference, in the first instance, to generai#
some fixed and ancient literature, philology may justly
claim the following important functions
(1.) It forms the necessary basis of a liberal education in
all countries which have been brought to regard their pre¬
sent position from the standing-point of universal history.
(2.) It is an important branch of inductive science.
(3.) It links together the present and the past, and en¬
ables those who would otherwise be bound down by the
conditions and exigencies of every-day life, to cultivate
their spiritual nature by more genial aspirations and a more
comprehensive view of their own duties and destiny.
(4.) It rectifies ancient traditions, when, being erroneous
or wrongly interpreted, they exercise a mischievous influ¬
ence on the belief and practice of a generation.
(5.) It forms the key-stone of theology, wherever the
knowledge of divine truth professes to rest , on a rational
interpretation of the documents of religious history.
We will make a few remarks on each of these subjects.
(1 ) The proper idea of education, as distinguished from (l.) It is
the mere acquisition of information or the amassing of th. >>=»>-
stores of knowledge, includes the complete and progressive f • 1.betll
training of the individual, both mentally and morally. \v itn e(jucati0n.
the latter the science of language is indirectly concerned,
because it is through the reason that the teacher acts on
the will of his pupils, and because the first lessons of duty
are aiwavs presented in a form which requires moi e or ess
of progressive interpretation. With respect, however, to
mental or intellectual culture, philology in its elementary
applications becomes of paramount importance. n ns
subject we have only to repeat the language which we lave
used on former occasions, and to maintain that the iscip me
of the mind depends entirely on that system o .ogica^
training, which gradually imparts the habit of methodically
arranging our thoughts, and exercises the reasoning facul¬
ties in the practical processes of deduction. Intellectua e u-
cation cannot advance beyond this; and educationa train¬
ing will undertake what does not belong to. its own province
if it does not confine itself to the cultivation and improve¬
ment of deductive habits. As far as the world has hitherto
advanced, only two forms, under which this instruction is pos¬
sible, have been excogitated or practised by man, name y,
grammar, which deals with the expression of our thoughts
in language; and geometry, which applies the rules ot
lano-uao-e to a methodical discussion of quantities, magni¬
tudes, and proportions, or, in Kant’s phraseology, to a de¬
velopment of the intuitions of space and time, i racLcany,
the higher education of Europe, since the days when I lat
PHILOLOGY.
539
Compara- first discovered and stated the leading principles of Greek
tive syntax, has rested upon this basis and no other. That
Philology. great philosopher, in whose view dialectics, or the method
of language, was the primary science, is reported to have
warned those who were unskilled in the geometry, lately
brought to perfection by his friends Theodoras and These-
tetus, not to enter the sacred precincts of his Academy.
And, however, disguised in technical terminology, this has
been the maxim of university training both in the middle
ages and in modern times. We have already said that
the Trivium and Quadrivium of the mediaeval school of
arts constituted the original department in the university
of Paris and the similar institutions which followed in its
wake; and these seven liberal arts,—namely, grammar,
logic, and rhetoric, for the Trivium; and music, arithmetic,
geometry, and astronomy, for the Quadrivium,—are repre¬
sented respectively by the classics and mathematics of
modern schools and colleges. It is true that, while the
intimate connection of the latter with many branches of
practical and professional life have shielded the study of
mathematics from any formal attack on the part of those
who take a utilitarian view of education, there has been
a great outcry in some quarters against the importance as¬
signed to philology, or rather to classical philology, in the
higher education of Great Britain ; and there are many
persons who think that such studies are an anachronism,
and that the time bestowed upon them would be better
employed in learning modern and living languages, and in
becoming well acquainted with the noble literature of our
own country. It is not our business on the present occa¬
sion to enter into an argument on this subject, which we
have sufficiently discussed elsewhere {Classical Scholar¬
ship and Classical Learning, Cambridge, 1856). But we
must remark here, that no modern language, when acquired
in the only way in which it can be learned completely,—
namely, by a prolonged and generally an early residence in
the country where it is spoken,—can furnish the means of
that true grammatical training which is the first step in the
formation of deductive habits; and that the literature of
England and other modern countries rests so entirely on
the wisdom of the ancients that it cannot be fully appre¬
ciated, and its most illustrious specimens can scarcely be un¬
derstood, except by those who have made some acquaintance
with the dead languages but immortal writings of Greece
and Rome. And therefore philology, which, according
to its definition, recognises its primary object in some lan¬
guage and literature in a fixed, if not unalterable form, and
which, by the conditions of modern civilization, finds its
scope and materials in idioms and in books which have be¬
come either classical or sacred, cannot really be divorced
from the intellectual education of modern times without
serious detriment to one great branch of deductive training,
—namely, the study of language, on its own account, and
for the sake of the mental discipline which it involves.
(2.) It is (2.) As a branch of inductive science, philology, in that
an import- final development which we call comparative philology,
ant branch stands on precisely the same footing as geology and those
of indue- other sciences which are “ connected by this bond, that
ive science Riey endeavour to ascend to a past state of things by the
aid of the evidence of the present” (Whewell, History of
the Inductive Sciences, vol. iii., p. 481) ; for, as it has been
well observed, “ language is one of the most clear and im¬
perishable records of the early events in the career of the
human race” (Whewell, Philosophy of the Inductive
Sciences, vol. i., p, 650). We have already seen how com¬
parative philology enables us to classify the races and lan¬
guages of man, and how it sets before us, with unmistakeable
veracity, the primaeval history of Indo-Germanic civilization.
Its claim, however, to rank as a branch of inductive science,
does not rest merely on its services in classifying the phe¬
nomena and interpreting the facts of language. It has
also proved itself able to discover, like other inductive Compara-
sciences, the general laws which prevail among the pheno- tive
mena. One of the most important of these general laws is Plnlology*
that of the “transposition of sounds” {Lautverschiebumj),
or, as it is sometimes called, “ the law of the interchange
of the mutes,” which had been imperfectly indicated by
Rask, and which Grimm demonstrated completely in its
application to the Greek (Latin, Sanscrit), the Gothic, and
the Old High German {Deutsche Grammatik, vol. i.,
pp. 584, sqq.), and which Bopp has extended to the Zend
and Lithuanian {Vergleichende Grammatik, pp. 78, toll.)
The general law is thus stated:—
Labials.
In Greek (Latin, Sanscrit),
P answers to the Gothic P, and the Old High German B or V.
B >i » Pj jj » ■f'*
F „ „ B, „ „ P.
Dentals.
In Greek (Latin, Sanscrit),
T answers to the Gothic TH, and the Old High German D.
D „ „ T, „ „ v Z.
TH „ „ D, „ „ T.
Gutturals.
In Greek (Latin, Sanscrit),
K answers to the Gothic j ^ j and Old High Germ. G.
O ,, ,, L-
CH (H) „ „ G
Or thus:—
Greek (Latin, Sanscrit). Gothic.
Tenuis, Aspirate,
Medial, Tenuis,
Aspirate, Medial,
CH.
K.
Old High German.
Medial.
Aspirate.
Tenuis.
One example of each interchange will explain the appli
cation of this law.
Greek Gothic
(Latin, Sanscrit). (Old Norse).
P, F, V (B), Hay; = waS-j, Pes ~ped-s, Pddas, Fotus,
t> r> Tn thaurj
B, P, F,
F
PH
)b,p,
T, TH, D,
D, T, Z,
TH, D, T,
G, K, CH,
CH,
H,
6o(>v'Bt>s, turBa,
$wyo;, Fagtts,
J —o^ovT-s, tlcnS.—>ilcTlT~S. I
( danTas, )
} G,K,
danTas,
obavs, Dens, Dantds,
0yy«<r»£,
iK'jeo;, soCer,
Ttvos, Genus,
Xogms, Hortus,
thaurP,
Beylci,
tunTHus,
Tunthus,
Dauhtar,
svaiHra,
Kuni,
Gards,
Old High
German.
Vuoz.
doroF.
Puocha.
zanD.
Zand.
Tohtar.
schwaGer.
CHunni.
Karto.
Mr Winning has pointed out a cuiious inteichange be¬
tween the Greek and the Gothic, with regard to the rela¬
tions established by this law {Manual of Comparative Phi¬
lology p. HI). Other modifications require to be intro¬
duced And Dr Guest attaches so much weight to the
exceptions which he has noticed, that he has arrived at a
conviction of “ the general unsoundness of these celebrated
canons” (“ On the Elements of Language, their Arrange¬
ments and their Accidents,” Proceedings of the Philological
Society, vol. iii., p. 180). The great majority of philologers,
however, acquiesce in the general validity of this theorem
of interchange: Bunsen calls it 4 one ot the most ^fertile
and triumphant discoveries of philological ethnology” {De¬
port of the British Association for 1847, p. 262); and Max
Muller accepts it as a proof of “ the systematic regularity—
the almost absolute certainty—to which the phonetic laws
of different languages can be brought” {Edinburgh Re¬
view, October 1851, p. 319). The present writer ventures
to attach a somewhat similar importance to his own dis¬
covery of another principle, which he proposes to call “ the
law of divergent articulations.” Grimm’s law of transposi¬
tion applies only to the interchange of mutes of the same
540
PHILOLOGY.
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
(3.) It re¬
leases the
mind from
the thral¬
dom of the
present.
order, as far as the mode of tlie.r art.culatton is concerned
but distinguished as tenues, aspirates, and medials.
the interchanges of mutes with others belonging mthffere^
organs, he had no explanation to offer, and regards the
merely as exceptions to the general rule ftam
mcitik i. p. 589). The older grammarians had onl^ o
name,’ metalepsis, for all interchanges, whether regnW an
eaX explicable as from P to B, or irregular, and at
first sisht inexplicable, as from P to K. The present writer
was led to an explanation of these divergent interchanges
bv an inquiry into the nature of the Greek letter called he
disamma which he proved to be a complex sound, consist
mi of a guttural combined with a labial
S 110) and he extended the same principle to all case
^ which two words, undoubtedly of the same o^n,
exhibit articulations which could not have . . ^
chano-ed. In all such cases, he concluded that the
formixhibited a combination of the two sounds^ The
brief but decisive induction by which this la
blished in 1839 (New Cratylus, 1st edit., p. 13 )
ereatlv extended by Mr Garrett in his valuable paper On
Certa^Inhial^etter-Changes in the Indo-European Lan
„Uaaes” (Proceedings of the Philological for 1846,
gua^es ^jocee g j or tw0 wlU show
Iht a J,'cS T'thislaw. ' The Saiscrit pMas corre-
SpondsPexactly in meaning to the Latin ®
Greek wewrds. But as p cannot pass into the Latin differs
from the Sanscrit in the initial, and from the Gieek in Hie
included sound, or, in Grimm’s useful terminology, they differ
reciprocally In Anlaut and Inlaut. Now the Latin coquo
shoL us that the guttural “““1W^°ittrknowU„
that it was followed by a vocalized labial, and it is kno
that even in Cicero’s time coquus was pronounced quoquus.
(Quhril Inst. Or. vi. 3, § 47.) The divergent articula¬
tions P and K converge, therefore, in the compound sound
OV-KP and the three words are accordingly reducible
t?an"iden’tity of origin as well as of meaning Again we
have in Greek KcXaivos as a synonym of geXos, /leAau/a,
JreXav; and with the exception of the fni^l or J«lauf>e
words are identical in root or crude form. But we cann
derive k from /x, or vice versa ; and, according to the law, we
S assume complex sound as -igm of hese
divergent articulations. Fortunately we are not eft to an
inference in this case, for Pamphilus of the An -
tarchus, recorded the fact, that gzXadpa, meaning the
rafters blackened by the smoke ” were ancmn ly adled
kfieXedpa. (Etymol. Magn., p. 521,33-) L^ >4 ^
instance in which we have all forms of the process, tne
Latin vivus exhibits no traces of
with the labial. But the perfect from <he oone^
ino- verb vivo shows that the Inlaut at least invoiveu
X-sound; whereas a comparison with the Gothic
indicates that qv was also the original tvpe o ^ ’
or initial articulation ; and thus we arrive wvth per ect con
fidence at the conclusion, that vivus = Wwith the^Old
identical in meaning, as it is m s^nification with^the
Norse quikr, Old Saxon g'mc, anc mot i or had
(3.) If the science of philology had not ex1S ed 0^
been irrecoverably lost at some eai y Peri > jations
have been a total disruption of those noWer associ^
which connect the present with the past, and 1
lized men from becoming the bond-s aves tQ tll0“se
day requirements and exigencies. It may j ^
who have not reflected on the subject, some §
paradox to assert that those who have forgo en }
very rarely bestow much thought upon the r-
this is really the condition of human nature. Jf ,
the future destiny of man necessarily connects itse wi
belief in the facts of bis past history. Without t ie a e
the former is impossible ; for the future is in our mm s
only the anticipated copy of our recorded experiences.
Without this we have no future beyond the idea of proxi¬
mate coming time; and he who has no past but “ yesterday,
has no future but “ to-morrow” —
Compara¬
tive
Philology.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time ;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
To dusty death.
The very structure of inflected language shows us that we
cannot measure futurity beyond the vague statement that
it is near and coming; whereas the past, so far as it is
registered, stretches back in a lengthening vista, and is, by
the mere expression of tense in the oldest languages of o
famiN deckred to be distant. From a contemplation of
this remote period, as it is unfolded in ancient history, not
only does the present sink toils proper littleness as a mere
fleeting unit in the onward progress of the seasons, but the
future assumes new and larger proportions ^ the analo y
of the past, till at last it expands in the eyes of faith, 01 it
mav be of imagination, into the grand conception of eter¬
nity. Dr Johnson, then, has said with great truth (Journey
to the Western Isles, Works, x., p. o01), wiJtever'makes
draws us from the power of the senses,—whatever makes
.1 1 act fi-ip flictant or the future predominate ovei the
present,—advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.
Now it cannot be doubted that the schools of philology, of
which we have briefly traced the history m this paper, have
Tlone pTese^ ed the /ecords of the XXw
abled the present and future ages to read and under.tana
them To the critical editorship, which commenced
at Athens under the Pisistratidae, and culminated at
Alexandria under the Ptolemies, we a11 we have
of ancient Greek literature, the greatest inheritance or
o-enius and wisdom, and the most influential instrument of
fiberal culture, that the world has ever possessed I he
Jews stimulated perhaps in part, and certainly guided in
no small degree by the school of Alexandria, have p
served and transmitied tons a collection of sacred wntings
which still preaches to the civilized world the highest les¬
sons of religious faith and divine morality, and breathes
forth a spirit3of prayer that ascends to heaven like the in¬
cense ofThe sacrifice. The Indians, by a very similar but
independent effort, made, perhaps, ^^^^Teed
sure of Buddhism, have rescued from oblivion and place
on record the relics of their own primitive language an
writings, which have enabled us to penetrate to the urlt
Winnings of Arlan civilization, and to discover what the
Indo-Germanic race did and believed before it was broken
up into d“ nationalities, and scattered over the face of
Asia and Europe. The labours of plnlologeis, duiin
tiiree centuries which have elapsed since the revival of
literature and learning, have rendered all ^
to preserve the documents of ancient culture available t
tlie nurooses of modern speculation. The hieroglypnic
annals of Foypt, and the arrow-headed inscriptions of Persia
and Assyria, have been, in part at least, deciphered and n-
tpmreted The languages called classical, and those or tne
Jews Ind Mans Le been analysed so thoroughly that
little if anything, remains to be done for their elucidation.
Historical criticism and comparative
reeled the mistakes of a credulous age, and have r^sed
etymology from guess-work to science; and ethnography,
which treats of the origin and growth of ^ ^ Wn
nlaced, by the aid of the philologer, on a basis as stro g
that of physical science. With all these fields o resea
open to his view,- with these means of connecting himself
wUh the past history of his species, and of bas'n|^s £kme
hopes on manifold revelations,-educa ed men must blame
themselves if they yield to the degrad,ng thraldom o he,r
present needs and enjoyments, and make themseh
for the execution of some daily work.
piiilo
Compara- (4.) Valuable as the records of the past necessarily are,
tive when read with that discriminating judgment which it is
Philology. j.]ie business of philology to cultivate, their possession and
use may, without this organon, lead to the most superstiti-
(4.) It rec- ous belief and the most criminal practices. This is espe-
tifies mis- cja]iy j]ie case jn regard to branches of literature which
ditions*™" ^ave become sacred rather than classical. In the interpre-
! ’ tation of these records of authoritative tradition it is often
found that, so long as they remain in the sole custody of a
sacerdotal caste, they are liable to be distorted and mis¬
read until they are made to say something quite inconsist¬
ent with their true meaning. And it is only when the
scholar steps in with his matured and independent know¬
ledge that the mistaken tradition is rectified, and thegenuine
statement re-invested with an articulate utterance. Thus,
to take two most important instances from the sacred writ¬
ings of the Hindus:—The Brahmins profess to derive the
multitudinous practices which they enjoin from the infal¬
lible revelations of their Vedas. The great majority of
these ordinances, although childish and absurd in our eyes,
have been wisely tolerated by the British government since
it became paramount in India. But there was one practice
so offensive, not only to morality, but even to humanity,
that steps were necessarily taken to do away with it. This
was the suttee, or compulsory immolation of the widow
on her deceased husband’s funeral pile. At the time
when Christian feeling broke out into open revolt against
this monstrous usage, it was supposed that the Brahmins
had at least the excuse of believing that the practice of
widow-burning was expressly enjoined in the oldest books
of their religion ; and even the great Sanscrit scholar Cole-
brooke had translated a passage from the Rig-Veda in ac¬
cordance with their interpretation of it {Asiatic Researches,
vol. iv., pp. 209-219, Calcutta, 1795). But when the
Vedas were at length studied according to the principles of
philological criticism as established in Europe, it was found
that the sacred book, instead of countenancing the murder¬
ous custom, in the passage immediately before that which
the Brahmins quoted as sanctioning it, said,—“ Rise up,
woman ; come to the world of life ; thou sleepest nigh unto
him whose life is gone. Come to us.” And that in the
text cited by the Vedolaters they had changed “ A rohantu
janayo yonim agre" (“ The mothers may go first to the altar”),
into “ A rohantu janayo yonim agneh” (“ Let the mothers
pass into the wromb of fire”). (See Max Miiller, in the
Zeitschrift d. Deutsch. Morgenl. Gesells., vol. ix., part 4, p.
xxv.; and in the Oxford Essays for 1856, pp. 22, 25.) If this
discovery had been made only fifty years earlier, many inno¬
cent women would have been saved from a cruel death,
and we should have escaped the risk of a religious outbreak,
which we incurred when we put a stop to this mock martyr¬
dom. Again, the dreadful mutinies which have raged in
so large a part of our Indian dominions are attributed im¬
mediately to the apprehensions on the part of the Brahmi-
nical sepoys that the government intended to interfere
with their sacred distinction of caste. In this case, also,
philology has proved that the supposed religious sanction is
not to be found in the sacred books. “ If,” says a learned
and able writer, who is easily identified as perhaps the
best authority on the subject {Times, 10th April 1858),
“ with all the documents before us, we ask the question,
Does caste, as we find it in Manu, and at the present day,
form part of the religious teaching of the Vedas? We
can answer with a decided No. There is no authority
whatever in the Veda for the complicated system of castes;
no authority for the offensive privileges claimed by the
Brahmins ; no authority for the degraded position of the
Sudras. There is no authority to prevent the different
classes of the people from living together, from eating
and drinking together; no law to prohibit the marriage
< f people belonging to different castes; no law to brand
LOGY. 54i
the offspring of such marriages with an indelible stigma.” Compara-
And he justly adds that, “ As the case now stands, the go- tive
vernment would be perfectly justified in declaring that it Philolosy-
will no longer consider caste as part of the religious
system of the Hindus. Caste, in the modern sense of the
term, is no religious institution ; it has no authority in the
sacred writings of the Brahmins; and, by whatever pro¬
mise the government may have bound itself to respect the
religion of the natives, that promise will not be violated
even though penalties were inflicted for the observation of
the rules of caste.” The evils which have resulted from
this misapprehension on the part of the Hindu priests,
or rather from the traditions with which they have over¬
laid and nullified the sacred books, and so substituted
a new authority for that which should alone be para¬
mount, have been remedied by a vigorous exertion of our
military power; but it is clear that an ultimate pacifica¬
tion on this and other kindred subjects will be greatly faci¬
litated when the spirit of modern philology, applied to the
Vedas and Puranas, shall have finally superseded the half¬
knowledge of the native pundits.
(5.) In much the same manner as the sacerdotal caste (5.) It is
in India have substituted a traditionary system of their ownthe ke.v*
for that of the sacred writings on which they profess to rely, stone.of
the priests of the Latin Church in the middle ages had
superseded the Scriptures by an elaborate system of the- °
ology, and by the recognition of a visible head, whose de¬
cisions on questions of doctrine and practice were held to be
infallible. The rectification of this erroneous tradition was
called Protestantism ; and it was due in a great measure to
the revival of philological learning, which preceded it, and
which has been briefly described in these pages. Indeed,
it may be asserted with perfect truth, that the whole fabric
of papal pretensions rested on precarious deductions from
a philological blunder or oversight,—namely, the supposi¬
tion or statement that TreVpos, a stone, was exactly synony¬
mous with Trerpa, a rock,—that is, a mass or collection of
similar stones. But although freedom of opinion achieved
this partial victory in the sixteenth century, the necessity
for an energetic exertion of Protestant principles has never
ceased ; and it is as urgent now as it was in the days of
Luther and Melanchthon. Roman pretensions are not ex¬
tinct; and the traditions of the Italian church are not the
only adscititious envelopments which mar the beauty of the
Christian revelation. Among Protestants themselves there
are still traditions of infallibility, as degrading to the intel¬
lect of man, as prejudicial to true religion, and as untenable
in themselves, as those which w'ere put forth to support
the dogma of transubstantiation or the practice of indul¬
gences. For every individual Protestant now, as for Pro¬
testants in general at the time of the great Reformation, the
significant saying of Zschokke {Autobiography, p. 29) con¬
tains at once a caution and a rule of action :—“ He who does
not like living in the furnished lodgings of tradition must
build his own house, his own system of thought and faith,
for himself.” And it would be the greatest mistake to sup¬
pose that the duty of study and examination in a Protestant
community devolves exclusively on the clergy or ministry.
The laity cannot thus shift their responsibility in a matter
which concerns themselves individually, and in which the
o-eneral diffusion of education has made them quite as
competent judges, while they are also more unprejudiced
arbiters, and more free to express their convictions, than
most of their authorized teachers. On this subject we need
only refer to a temperate and well-considered argument
which has just appeared from the pen, as we are informed,
of a person who has won a distinguished place in Indian
philology {Free Theological Inquiry the Duty of the Laity,
by a Lay Member of the Church of England, London and
Edinburgh, 1858; see p. 13). But for all Protestants,
whether ministers or members of congregations, it is certain
542'
P IX I
Philomela that a critical period has arrived, fraught with momentous
II consequences to the religious and moral training ot the age,
Philopce- an{j t])at tiie problems which await solution cannot be suc-
men‘ , cessfully encountered except in that spirit of historical and
linguistic criticism, the origin, growth, maturity, and vari¬
ous applications of which we have endeavoured to exhibit.
On all these accounts, we claim for philology, or the
methodical study of the fixed forms of language and litera¬
ture, a place of honour in the first class ot those blanches
of knowledge which find their appropriate place in t ie
volumes of an Encyclopaedia; and we are prepared to echo
the words which Bunsen addressed to the British Associa¬
tion at Oxford {Report for 1847, p. 257) :-“ If is the
apex of the creation, it seems right, on the one side, tha. a
historical inquiry into his origin and development shou
never be allowed to sever itself from the general body o
natural science, and in particular from physiology. u , on
the other hand, if man is the apex of the creation ; if he is the
end to which all organic formations tend from the very
beginning; if man is at once the mystery and the key ot
natural science; if that is the only view of natural science
worthy of our age; then ethnologic philology, once esta¬
blished on principles as clear as the physiological are, is
the highest branch of that science for the advancement ot
whiclAhis association is instituted. Bis not an appendix
to physiology or to anything else ; but its object is, on the
contrary, capable of becoming the end and goal^ot the la¬
bours and transactions of a scientific association.
In the survey which we have now brought to a close we
have contented ourselves with describing the first begin¬
nings, successive developments, present condition, and mani¬
fold usefulness of linguistic science. It has not been our
business to write a treatise on any branch ot philology.
Special views on certain departments of the subject have
been set forth by competent writers in the articles on
Grammar and Language. Those who wish to prosecute
the study of philology in its details are recommended to
the following books, which have been mentioned above, and
some of which, we believe, are the generally-received repre¬
sentatives of the existing knowledge in the higher branches
of comparative grammar and the philosophy ot language .
PHI
1. Grimm (Jacob), Deutsche Gmmmatik, vols. i.-iv. Gottingen, philoso-
1822-1837. A third edition of part of the first volume ap- pher’s
peared in 1840. Stone]
2. Pott (August Friedrich), Etymologische Forschungen auf dem ; ||
Gebiete cler Indo-Germanischen Sprachen. Lemgo,. 1833-6. philosophy
3. Bopp (Franz), Vergleichende Grammatik des Sanskrit, Fend, y _/
Griechischen, Lateinischen, Litthauischen, Gothischen, und
Deutschen. Berlin, 1833-1852. This work which is now
in course of republication, has been translated into English
by Mr Eastwick, with the co-operation of the late Earl ot
Ellesmere. ,,
4. Humboldt (Wilhelm von), Ueber die Verschiedenheit des Alen-
schlichen Sprachbaues und ihren Einfluss auf die geistige Ent-
wickelung des Menschengeschlechts. Berlin, 1836. Keprintea
in the author’s collected works, vol. vi. Humboldt s prin¬
ciples have found a special exponent in Dr H. btemtnai,
Sprachwissenschaft W. v. Humboldt's und die Hegel sche Philo¬
sophic. Berlin, 1848. .
5. Winning (W. B.), A Manual of Comparative Philology.
London, 1838.
6. The New Cratylus, or Contributions towards a more Aecura
Knowledge of the Greek Language. First edition, Cambri ge,
1839; second edition, considerably enlarged, Eambriage,
1850 ; third edition, in the press.
7. Varronianus: A Critical and Historical Introduction to t
Ethnography of Ancient Italy, and the Philological Study oj the
Latin Language. First edition, London, 1844; second edi¬
tion, considerably enlarged ; London, 1852.
8. Latham (R. G.), The English Language. First edition,
London, 1842 ; second edition, considerably enlarged, 184a,
third edition, 1850. t • •
9. Grimm (Jacob), Geschichte der Deutschen Sprache. ..ipsic,
1848.
10 Schwa’rtze (M. G.), Aufstellung und Auseinandersetzung des
Koptischen Sprachgebdudes mit Riicksicht auf die vergleichende
Sprachforschung, in his great work Das Alte uEgypten. Leip-
sic, 1843 (pp. 466-932). . Q_„
11. Zeuss (J. C.), Grammatica Celtica. Lipsise, 1808. _
12. Diez (Friedrich), Etymologisches Wdrterbuch der Romamschen
Sprache. Bonn, 1853. , _ . 7
13. Bunsen (C. C. J.), Outlines of the Philosophy of Universal
History. London, 1854. , .
14. Garnett (Richard), Philological Essays, edited by is son
(in the press).
There are several periodicals devoted to the discussion of ptil°-
lojry : of these the most important are the Transactions of the-tin o-
logical Society, published in London ; and the Zeitschnft fur ver¬
gleichende Sprachforschung, published at Berlin. (J. ■ v
PHILOMELA, a daughter of Pandion, King of Athens,
changed into a nightingale. i r p. a i „
PHILOPCEMEN, a celebrated general of the Achaean
League, was born about 252 B.C., in Megalopolis, a city of
Arcadia, in Peloponnesus, and from his very infancy disco¬
vered a strong inclination to the profession of arms. Having
been nobly educated by Cassander of Mantinea, he was no
sooner able to bear arms than he entered amongst the troops
which the city of Megalopolis sent to make incursions into
Laconia, and in these inroads never failed to give some re¬
markable instance of his prudence and valour. After
signalizing himself in various services, he was appointed
general of the Achaean forces, and applied himself to re-
tablish military discipline amongst the troops of tho repub ,
strove to rouse the courage of his countrymen, an a
put them into a condition to defend themselves without the
assistance of foreign allies. With this view, he made great
improvements in the Achaean discipline, changing t ie mann
of their exercise, as well as their arms, which were both
very defective. After eight months of hard discip me, new
reached him that Machanidas was advancing^at t e lea
of a numerous army, to invade Achaia. He met the
enemy in the territories of Mantinea, where a ecisive
battle was fought, about 204 B.C., in which the Ac seans
were completely victorious. But what most contributed to
raise the fame and the reputation of Philopcemen was his
uniting the powerful city of Lacedaemon to the Achaean
commonwealth, by which means the Achseans were en¬
abled to eclipse all the other states of Greece. (See
Achjeans.) Philopcemen attacked the Messemans, but was
wounded, taken prisoner, and poisoned by the magistrates;
and thus died one of the greatest heroes whom Greece oi
any other country had ever produced. Philopcemen was
called the last of the Greeks, as Brutus was afterwards styled
the last of the Romans. (See Army.)
PHILOSOPHER’S STONE. See Alchemy.
PHILOSOPHY {(jotXocrocjoia, love of wisdom) is a term
which is said to owe its origin to Pythagoras, who, disclaim
ing the presumptive title of aocfoos, or sage, assumec y ns
predecessors, chose rather to designate himself as a <pt oao
djos, a lover of the —as one who, though ar ent m e
pursuitofwisdom,yetcouldneverproperlyarrogate o iimse
the possession of it. Cicero tells this story (Tusc. Quces .
lib. (v , cap. 3) on the authority of Herachdes Ponticus,
who is, however, confessed to have been a fabulous writer.
There was, however, a verb (juXoa-ocfoeiv, to philosophize, in
the time of Herodotus; and the term, as a distinctive
epithet, was brought into general use by Socrates, to denote
the science that is conversant about the causes and exis -
ence of things. Philosophical knowledge, in the widest ac¬
ceptation of the term, is the knowledge of effects as depend¬
ent on their causes. And as every cause to which we can
ascend is also an effect, it follows that it belongs to phi¬
losophy to trace up the series of effects till we arrive a
causes which are not themselves effects, and have redu ed
them to the fewest possible number. It follows, therefoie,
PHI
[Philostra- that philosophy may be defined as the science of first prin¬
ts ciples; and the term is now limited almost exclusively to
II the mental sciences.
Phocsea. PHILOSTRATUS, the famous author of the Life of
Apollonius of Tyana, was born most probably about A.D.
172. Eusebius calls him an Athenian, because he taught at
Athens; but Eunapius and Suidas always speak of him
as a Lemnian. He frequented the schools of the Sophists,
and he mentions his having heard Damianus of Ephesus,
Proclus Naucratitas, and Hippodromus of Larissa. He
afterwards became known to Julia Augusta, the wife of
Severus, and was one of those learned men whom this phi¬
losophical empress had continually about her. It was by
her command that he wrote his celebrated Life of Apollo¬
nius of Tyana. His Lives of the Sophists contain many
things which are to be met with nowhere else. The
Heroics of Philostratus are only a dialogue between a
vintner of the Thracian Chersonesus and a Phoenician;
while his Images are elegant descriptions and illustrations
of some ancient paintings, and other particulars relating to
the fine arts. The last piece is a collection of Philostratus’
Letters.
Of the collected works of Philostratus there is the edi¬
tion of F. Morellius, Paris, 1608; that of Olearius, 2 vols.
folio, Leipsic, 1709 ; and lastly, and by far the best, there
is the edition of C. L. Kayser, 4to, Zurich,ffl 844. The
first two books of the Life of Apollonius of Tyana were
translated into English by the unfortunate Charles Blount,
London, 1680; and shortly after prohibited.
PHILOXENUS, a celebrated dithyrambic poet, a na¬
tive of the island of Cythera, flourished B.c. 398, being con¬
temporary with Timotheus and Telestes, and died at the
age of sixty, B.C. 380. He was a son of Euletidas, and,
when Cythera was taken by the Lacedaemonians, he was car¬
ried olf as a slave. He was sold to Agesylas, and on his
death was bought by the poet Melanippides, by whose in¬
struction he seems to have profited. He waa devoted to
the pleasures of the table, and became a great favourite of
the elder Dionysius. It is said the luxury of the court of
Syracuse furnished the theme of his poem AcIttvov (Dinner).
His poem Cyclops or Galateia is said to have been one
of the finest of his productions. Alexander the Great was
a great admirer of the dithyrambs of Philoxenus and Teles¬
tes. The fragments of Philoxenus are almost all in Athe-
naeus. Most of them have been recently edited by
Meineke, by Bergk, and by Schmidt.
PHILTER (tplXrpov, a love charm, from <pi\eco, L love),
was a potion given by the Greeks and Romans to excite
love. Its composition is not known.
PHLEGON, a Greek historian, was a native of Tralles,
in Lydia, and the freedman of the Emperor Hadrian (a.d.
117-138). He was the author of a History or Chronicle, in
sixteen books, which ended a.d. 141, and which",is now
lost. Besides a fragment, De Olympiis, we have also two
other works, De Longcevis libellus and De Debus Mira-
bilibus liber. The edition of Bast (Halle, 1822, 8vo) in¬
cludes all the valuable annotations of his predecessors; but
that of Westermann, in his Scriptores Derum Mirabilium
Greed, 1839, is unquestionably the best.
PHLIUS, an independent city in the north-eastern part
of Peloponnesus, stood on a hill called Arantinus, on, the
left bank of the Asopus (Asopo). Its territory, bounded
on the S. by Argolis, on the W. by Arcadia, on the N. by
Sicyonia, and on the E. by Cleonae, was an upland valley,
well watered by mountain streams, and fruitful in vines.
Its inhabitants are celebrated for their alliance with Sparta.
The ruins of Phlius are still visible.
PHOCJ3A (the modern Phokia), the most northern of
the cities of Ionia, was situated on the coast, about 200
stadia from Smyrna. It was founded by a colony of Pho-
cians, led by two Athenians, Philogenes and Damon. Its
P H o 543
citizens are said to have been the first amongst the Greeks Phocion
who extended their commercial voyages to great dis- II
tances; and its inhabitants abandoned their city rather .I>ll0tllls'‘
than submit to the Persians, B.c. 544. They settled in
Italy, and founded Velia. Massilia in France, and Alalia
in Corsica, were colonies of the Phocseans.
PHOCION, a very celebrated Athenian general, was
descended from a family which at no time had been par¬
ticularly distinguished in the political transactions of their
country. He was born B.c. 402, and was condemned to
death B.C. 317, at the age of eighty-five. His early years
were spent under the direction of Plato and Xenocrates,
and his subsequent career showed that he had profited by
their instruction. His aspect was forbidding, though his
disposition was mild and gentle. It was remarked that he
was never seen to laugh or to weep. He commenced his
military career under Chabrias, and gained so much influ¬
ence with that general that he directed many of his pro¬
ceedings. The victory at Naxos, b.c. 376, was in a great
measure due to his prudence and military talents. Nor was
he less distinguished as a statesman and orator. He was
quick in perception, and ready in debate; so that Demos¬
thenes feared him more than any other orator, and is said
to have called him the Hatchet. (See Demosthenes, and
Macedonia.)
PfIOCIS, a country of ancient'Greece, was bounded on
the W. by the Locri Ozolee and Doris, on the N. by the
Locri Epicnemidii and the Locri Opuntii, on the E. by
Boeotia, and on the S. by the Corinthian Gulf. Its sur¬
face was occupied by a succession of lofty mountains and
spacious plains. The Locrian chain of heights formed the
northern frontier, hemming in the country. Extending
along the inner side of these lay the fertile valley through
which the Cephissus flowed. On the southern bank of the
river the ground rose suddenly and abruptly into the lofty
and rugged range of Parnassus. Then it sank gradually
down, leaving many mountain offshoots and recesses, until
it found a level in the spacious sea-shore plain of Crissa.
Phocis held a prominent place in Grecian history from the
very first. At an early date it received its name from a
certain King Phocus. In course of time, two of its cities,
Delphi and Elatea, became notable,—the former as being
the site of the celebrated oracle of Apollo, and the latter as
standing on the highway from Northern to Central Greece.
Nor was its prowess in arms less remarkable. For many
years its inhabitants drove back the repeated incursions of
the Thessalians; and during the invasion of Xerxes, they
stood at bay among the fastnesses of their native moun¬
tains. The chief event, however, in the annals of Phocis
is the Phocian or Sacred War. (See Macedonia.)
Besides Delphi and Elatea, the other important towns of
Phocis were Lilsea, on the plain of the Cephissus : Daulis,
on the Boeotian frontier; Crissa, on Mount Parnassus ; and
Cirrha and Anticyra, on the shore of the Corinthian Gulf.
PHCEBUS. See Apollo.
PHCENICIA. See Syria.
PHOOLGHUR, a small raj of British India, on the
S.W. frontier of Bengal. Its centre lies in N. Lat. 21. 15.,
E. Long. 83.; area, 890 square miles. The surface is
undulating ; and buffaloes are allowed to run wild over the
country. The people are idle and lawless. The revenue is
calculated to amount to L.600. Pop. estimated at 40,000.
PHOSPHORUS. See Chemistry.
PHOTIUS, a Patriarch of Constantinople, one of the
most remarkable men of his time, was born in the early part
of the ninth century, and raised himself by his merit to the
patriarchate. When Bardas had driven Ignatius from the
see, Photius was consecrated by Asbestos in 859 a.d. He
condemned Ignatius in a synod, upon which the Pope ex¬
communicated him, and, to balance the account, Photius
anathematized the Pope. Basilius of Macedonia, whom
544
P II O
Photo-gal- Photius had reproved for the murder of the Emperor
vanogra- Michael, expelled him, and restored Ignatius, hut a “r
• I'l'y wards, upon the death of Ignatius, Photiuswas re-estabhshed,
II in the year 878 a.d. At last, being wrongfully accused o
P1,”thTa' a conspiracy against the person of Leo the Philosopher so"
and successor of Basilius, he was expelled in 886, and is
ciinnosed to have died soon afterwards. He wrote a Bibl
theca, an extraordinary monument of literary energy am
immense erudition, which contains an examination o
authors • and we have also 253 Epistles ot his, the Uomo
canon under 14 Mi, an abridgment of the acB of seve¬
ral councils ; besides several other works, many of whid, aie
still in manuscript. There was no branch oi llte^ >
whether sacred or profane and scarcely any art or Su-
ence in which he was not deeply versed. Hi* rise to tne
patriarchate was very rapid • for when - was chosen
to that office he was only a layman; but he was made
monk the first day, reader the next, and the following days
sub-deacon, deacon, and priest; so that m the space of six
days he aUained to the highest offices in the church On
the whole, however, his ardent love of glory and unbounded
ambition led him to commit excesses which renjkred 11
a scourge to those around him. It was brought t0
by Andreas Scottus, and communicated by him to Davu
Hceschelius, who caused it to be printed in 1601. I he
SSek text; together with Scottus’s Latin translation, was
afterwards printed at Geneva in 1611. A revised edition
riS work waS published by Bekker, in 2 vols Berlin,
1824-25 ; but there has been hitherto no collected edition
of this great scholar’s writings.
PHOTO-GALVANOGRAPHY is a new art, in¬
vented by Mr Paul Pretschj of Vienna, and introduced by
him into England. After securing his right by patent,
he has published, in a series of folio plates, magnified
specimens of the art.
Solutions of glue and solutions of nitrate of silver iodide of po-
taSightl’Xugh".11 The'glM pi»ie is’then
placed in water with a little alcohol, and the darkened parts are ren-
P H O
dered soluble, while the other parts are insoluble; so that in a few
minutes we have a picture represented by the unequal thickness of
the gelatine upon the glass. When the plate is dry, soft gutta pei cha
is nfessed upon the picture till it hardens. The gutta percha has
consequently an image the reverse of the first. After metaUizing
it —that is, 'rubbing it over with bronze powder or black lead,—it is
placed in a solution of sulphate of copper, and an elec retype plate ^
taken from it in the usual way with the voltaic battery, brom
Jhis plate others can be readily taken, and as m ordinary copper
plate printing, thousands of copies exactiy sundar to the photo
graph can be thrown off. “ By this process, says Mr Hunt, pic
tures in which the most delicate details are very faithfully pre¬
served and the nice gradations in light and shadow maintained in
all their beauty, are now printed from the electrotype plate ob¬
tained from the photograph. The process of photo-galvanograp y
S evtdX L«nedgtoPt.k, . very hig^po.ition a, a mea™ of
nreservinef the beauties of nature and art. ^ .
PHOTOGLYPHIC ENGRAVING, the name given
to a new art of engraving by the action of light which was
patented by Mr Fox Talbot on the 21st April 18o8.
plate of steel, copper, or zinc is covered with a thin him
of the following solution :—
ratine ...4-oz. I Saturated solution of bichro-
Water . ”'”V'V.8 or 10 oz. | mate of potash in water, 1 oz. _
The photograph or object to be engraved is th?“
film, and screwed down in a copying-frame. A P/ .
light, solar or diffused, the plate is taken out, a“d a
now dered gum copal carefully and evenly spread ?ver its surlace.
Se copal is Sen melted by holding the plate horizontally over a
sniriUamp. Muriatic acid saturated with peroxide of iron form¬
ing perchloride of iron, is the etching liquid employed, and put
up in three bottles :—• ,
No 1 is a saturated solution of the perchloride in water.
No. 2 consists of 5 or 6 parts of No. 1 in Vater-
No. 3 consists of equal parts of water and No. .
A little of No. 2 is first poured on the plate, and sPrea W1 a
brush The liquid will penetrate the gelatine wherever e ig
printed in all the photographic journals. .^Vipr method of
Mr C. J. Burnett proposed, in March 1858, another methoa oi
engraving on metals, which he calls p/tolo-mct«i%r«pA!/, and ni
which galvanism regulates the etching, and prevents the gelatin
coating^ from being injured by removing the gasbubbles.* (d.*)
Photogly-
phic En¬
graving
II
Photogra¬
ph-
P H 0 T 0 Gr R A P H Y.
Photogbapht, from Uf, mtal- ll’neeaUng0t’herToodyI’Ibrestof le^verthe »f '^as<
or paint, is the name given to the art of delmeamg or pa.nt_ hneat^ ^ ^ ’ lng of prints , but though lie obtained
partly oTtaiue^n^partfy han^parent^yet he^&iled iiTlhe
Profiles by the agency of Light upon / ^ ’ Wedgwood found that the muriate ot silver was m°re sen-
observations by Sir Humphry Davy.5 light than the nitrate, and that both were more
or white leather,” says Mr Wee gwo , to tm 0f readily acted upon when moist than when dry.
solution of nitrate of silver (one pai d to the Mr Wedgwood tried in vain to fix the copies w
water) is placed behind a painting on glass ej .fferentl obtained ; that is, to prevent the uncoloured portion of the
solar light, the rays transmitted through ^a^, icture from being darkened by light. He was thereffire
painted surface produce distinct tin s shades of obliged to keep his photographs “in anobscuie p a ,
sensibly differing in intensity according t0 ^ s‘ia ® . «amine them only in the shade for a few minutes, or b>
the picture, and where the light is unaltered, the ^ « behandle or lamp light. The process of Mr Wedgwood
the light becomes deepest.” Mr Wedgwood applied tins the^ ^ ^1.^ ]ittle notice- go long ago as
method to take profiles or shadows of figures, by g gir David Brewster called the attention of the pub
the shadows on the prepared paper, the part concealed by       __   
      ' ~ ” _ 2 Manual of Photography, 5th edit., pp. 269, 270.
i See PHOTOaKAPHY, art. iii. sioco 4 ibid., vol. v., p. 97, Dec. 11, 1858. . 167
s See Photographic Journal, vol. v., p. .)8, biov. 6, lb. . ■\icbols0n,S Journal of Natural Philosophy, &c., 8vo senes, %ol. P-
6 Vol. i., p. 70. This paper was republished in Nov. IbU- m Aicnoisuu
PHOTOGRAPHY.
545
Photogra- to it in a Scotch journal, but no person seems to have im-
phy. proved or even repeated the process during the next thirty
years. Some time previous to 1834, Mr Henry Fox Tal¬
bot, without any knowledge of what had been done by Mr
Wedgwood, had been led to the same process ; and in the
spring of that year he had actually taken pictures in the
camera by the agency of light upon paper washed with ni¬
trate of silver, and had succeeded in fixing them. To this
new art he gave the name of Calotype, from koAos, beauti¬
ful, and tuttos, an impression.
At an earlier period another branch of photography had
taken its rise in France. So early as 1814, M. Nicephorus
Niepce had attempted to fix the pictures produced in the
camera obscura, and to copy engravings by means of light
transmitted through them upon substances made sensible to
its action. The substance used by M. Niepce was a tablet
of copper coated with highly-polished plate silver ; and he
gave to his process the name of heliography, from r/Mos, the
sun, and ypdcf>w, I delineate. In the year 1824, M. Daguerre
had made experiments with the view of fixing the pictures in
the camera, but he seems at that time to have obtained no
definite results. M. Niepce, however, foreseeing the value
of his art, went to London in December 1827, and sub¬
mitted to the Royal Society an account of his heliographic
experiments, and several plates, which proved that he pos¬
sessed a method of taking pictures on metal (covered with
a film of asphaltum or Jew’s pitch) by the solar rays, and
preventing them from being subsequently obliterated by
the action of light. The society seems to have taken no
notice of this interesting communication; and, thus dis¬
couraged, M. Niepce seems to have abandoned his researches,
and to have given his heliographs to some of the members
of the society who had seen their value.
Having heard of each other’s labours, MM. Niepce and
Daguerre entered into a copartnery in December 1829,
in order to pursue for their mutual benefit the study of
heliography. The processes of the two artists were essen¬
tially different. M. Niepce used as the groundwork of his
picture a thin film of a solution of asphaltum, dissolved in
essential oil of lavender, and spread over the clean surface
of a plate of silvered copper. After the plate was ex¬
posed in the camera for about five hours, the picture was
developed by covering it with a mixture of one part of es¬
sential oil of lavender with ten parts of oil of white pe¬
troleum. The parts of the picture upon which the light
fell being more soluble in proportion to its intensity, a posi¬
tive heliograph was obtained. In order to produce abetter
effect, M. Niepce darkened the silver surface with a film of
iodine, which no doubt suggested to Daguerre the use of
that material.
Into this process M. Daguerre introduced considerable
improvements ; and in the course of his investigations he
discovered an entirely new photographic process, in the suc¬
cess of which Mi Niepce did not live to share. He died in
July 1833 ; and soon afterwards a copartnery was formed
between his son, M. Isidore Niepce, and M. Daguerre, in
which it was admitted that the process discovered by the
latter was essentially a new one, and should be called the
daguerreotype, after its inventor.
In order to reward the eminent inventors of heliography,
M. Arago, who had been previously entrusted with the
secret of the daguerreotype process, induced the French
government to give Daguerre an annual pension of 6000
francs (L.250), and to Niepce a pension of 4000 francs
(L.166); and a bill for this purpose was unanimously
passed by both chambers, and signed by the king on the
15th June 1839. In proposing this measure to the Cham¬
ber of Deputies, M. Arago stated that “ France had adopted
the discovery, and that from the first moment she had Photogra-
cherished a pride in liberally bestowing it A gift to the phy.
WHOLE world.” Notwithstanding this declaration, M.
Daguerre risked his public character in selling his inven¬
tion to Mr Miles Berry, to whom the officers of the crown
in England granted a patent in the face of a remon¬
strance by a few individuals who had the manliness to
oppose it. England was thus restrained for eight years
from the use of this important process ; but the specifica¬
tion was afterwards found defective, and the patent in¬
validated. It is a curious fact, that Mr Talbot’s patent for
the sister art of the talbotype was also invalidated by an
English jury; and it will never be forgotten in the his¬
tory of art, that the rights of property over the two
noblest inventions of the age, which the patent laws were
enacted to secure, were wrested from their owners by
the unjust decisions of an English jury, prompted by the
selfish interests of individuals who had been fattening on
the genius of the inventors.1 * *
While these two ingenious Frenchmen were occupied
with heliography, Mr Henry Fox Talbot was, as we have
already stated, occupied with the same subject. On the
30th January 1839, six months before M. Daguerre gave
his process to the world, Mr Talbot communicated his dis¬
covery to the Royal Society ; and in the following February
he published his process of photogenic drawing, to which
he afterwards gave the name of calotype, which his friends
changed to talbotype, in imitation of the example set by
those of Daguerre. In this process he made paper sen¬
sible to light by nitrate of silver, and fixed the image by
common salt.
About the same time (in April 1839) the Rev. J. B.
Reade was led by Mr Talbot’s paper to delineate objects of
natural history by the agency of light, from their images
taken by the solar microscope. He washed writing-paper
with a strong solution of nitrate of silver, and immediately be¬
fore using it he washed it with an infusion of nut-galls, and
tchile it was wet he received upon it the microscopic images.
These pictures were fixed by hyposulphite of soda.
On the 29th May 1839, our countryman Mr Mungo
Ponton announced to the Royal Scottish Society of Arts,
that paper soaked in a saturated solution of bichromate
of potash became of a deep orange tint when exposed to
the sun; so that in copying upon it dried plants or en¬
gravings a negative picture ot them ivas produced.
These negatives are dark orange on a yellow' ground,
and may be fixed by immersion in w7ater, which readily
dissolves the portion of the salt not acted upon by the
light. This important discovery led M. E. Becquerel to
his photographic paper with iodide of starch, Mr Hunt to
his chromatype, Mr Sella of Piedmont and Mr Pouncey
to their processes, and Mr Macraw of Edinburgh to one of
great value. The photographic property of this salt is
also the foundation of Mr Paul Pretsch’s photo-galvano-
graphy, of Mr Talbot’s photoglyptic process, and of some
attempts at photo-lithography.
Notwithstanding the beauty of some of the pictuies ob¬
tained by Mr Talbot with the process which he had pub¬
lished, the art was but in its infancy. The discovery
of a more sensitive process was necessaiy , and aftei much
experimental research, he was led to the valuable photo¬
graphic method which he secured by a patent, sealed on
the 8th February 1841. Mr Talbot subsequently took out a
patent for an instantaneous process, a patent for photographic
engraving, and, more recently, another for what he calls the
polygliptic process, which promises to be of great value.
The talbotype process, after it became accessible to the
public, underwent numerous improvements by Herschel,
i We of course suppose that Daguerre’s invention had been justly secured by patent in England before he had been rewarded by the
French government. o ^
YOL. XVII.
546
PHOTOGRAPHY.
Photogra- Cun dell, Bingham, Channing, Le Gray, Martin, Mu e ,
phy. Stewart, Hunt, Fyfe, Furlong, Blanquart, Lverard, Collen,
Ryan, Woods, Horne, Sagnez, Flacheron, and others; bu
the most important improvements were made by M. V ictm
Niepce and Mr Scott Archer, who introduced into photo¬
graphy, the one the use of albumen, and the other that ot
collodion, as substitutes for paper. A brief account of the
most important of the photographic processes will exhaust
the space allotted to us for this article.
Art. I.—Account of the Daguerreotype Process.
A plate of copper is coated with silver, and polished m the
highest degree by means of animal charcoal and spirits of wine, or
tripoli and essential oil of lavender. It is then rendered sensitive
to light by the vapours of iodine or bromine, either separately or
combined in various proportions, after it has been coated wit e
vapour of iodine. This is done in a box, the bottom of which is
strewed with iodine, covered with a little sand or a card ; and tne
plate is held above it till it has a fine straw-yellow colour. _ In order
to accelerate the action of light upon this film, the plate is exposed
to the vapour of bromine water till it attains a rose coloui.
When the plate, thus prepared, has been placed in the camera,
and received an impression from the figure or landscape to be
photographed, it is put into a dark box, containing mercury, having
in it a little pane of yellow glass, through which the surface of the
plate can be seen. By the application of heat, the mercury rises in
vapour, adhering to the lights of the picture in proportion to their
intensity, so that the shadows are represented by the polished sur¬
face of the silver. When the picture, as seen through the yellow
pane, is completely developed, it is fixed by immersing it in a so¬
lution of hyposulphite of soda; and when this salt has been com¬
pletely removed by water, a solution of a salt of gold (the double
hyposulphite of soda and gold introduced by Fizeau) is poured upon
the picture, so as to cover it, and the gold is then burnt in by the
heat of a strong spirit lamp. The picture is thus brought out with
singular brilliancy. The plate is then washed and dried, and is
ready to be put into its case or frame. When the surface of the
silvered plate reflects white light, the shadows become white, and the
lights dark, thus forming a negative picture ; so that, in order to see a
daguerreotype picture in perfection, the polished surface should
reflect to the eye of the observer the darkest objects.
Great improvements in the practice of the daguerreotype have
been made by Daguerre himself,1 Mr Claudet, Mr Hunt,2 Fizeau,
Goddard, Bingham, Guerin, Seguier, and others.
The theory of the daguerreotype is still in its infancy. Much
light has been thrown upon it by Mr Claudet,3 Edmund Becguerel,
Hunt, and Shaw.4
Art. II.—Account of the Talbotype Process.
In Mr Talbot’s first process of 1839, a sheet of smooth and good
writing-paper was dipped in a weak solution of common salt, and
after being wiped dry, one of its surfaces was brushed over with a
solution of nitrate of silver ; namely, a saturated solution diluted
with six or eight times its volume of water. When the leaves of
flowers or engravings are laid upon the nitrated surface of this paper
after it is dried, covered with a glass plate, and exposed to the sun,
very perfect images of these objects will be obtained in a short
time. As the light blackens the parts of the paper exposed to it,
the pictures are delineated in white in place of black lines, or are
negative pictures. For the same reason, the images of persons or of
landscapes formed by the camera obscura upon nitrated paper will
be negatively delineated. In order to fix these pictures, Mr Talbot
at first washed them in a highly-diluted aqueous solution of iodide
of potassium ; but he afterwards used in preference a strong solution
of common salt. When the negatives thus obtained were placed
upon another sheet of paper prepared as before, a positive copy was
produced, in which “ the lights and shadows were brought back to
their original disposition.”
Mr Talbot’s second and more perfect process, to which we have
already referred as the one patented in 1841, is as follows :—Wash
one side of the paper with a solution composed of 100 gr. of nitrate
of silver in 6 oz. of distilled water, by means of a soft camel-hair
brush. When dry, immerse it in a solution of iodide of potassium,
consisting of 50 gr. in a pint of distilled water. The paper is
then to be dipped in water, and dried, either by heat, blotting-
paper, or spontaneously.
When a sheet of this paper is to be made sensitive for use, wash Photogra-
it with the following solution, which may be called No. 1 DlS- Pty-
solve 100 gr. of nitrate of silver in 2 oz. of distilled water, and add
one-third of its volume of strong acetic acid. Make another solu¬
tion ("No 2), by dissolving crystallized gallic acid in cold distilled
water and mix the two solutions together in equal proportions
when’they are required for use. This mixture-gallo-nitrate of
silver—is then spread by a brush on the nitrated side of the iodized
paper which, when it has absorbed the solution, should be dipped
in distilled water and then dried, first with blotting-paper, and
afterwards by heat. In this state it is ready for use, and should be
used within a few hours.
After the paper has received the impression of a figure or land¬
scape in the camera, it is taken to a dark room, and may appear
either with or without the trace of a picture. In either case the
picture, which is a negative, is developed by brushing it over with
the gallo-nitrate of silver. When it is sufficiently distinct, it must
be dipped in water, then partly dried by blotting-paper and after¬
wards fixed by washing it with a solution of bromide of potassium
(or a strong solution of common salt), consisting of 100 gr. of the
salt dissolved in 8 or 10 oz. of water. .
From this negative, positive pictures are obtained by the processes
described in art. xvi.
Art. III.—Account of the Albumen Process.
The great defect of the talbotype was in the use of paper as the
material. M. Niepce de St Victor, in 1848, substituted for it a film of
albumen spread upon glass. The following is the process by which
Messrs Ross and Thomson have produced their splendid photo¬
graphs6 (15J inches by 15!), which have excited 80 much 1Ilterest-
The whites of several eggs, having 18 drops of a saturated, solu¬
tion of iodide of potassium added for each egg, are beaten up into a
large mass of froth, and allowed to stand for ten or twelve hours
till the whole falls into a liquid. It is then poured plentifully over
a plate of glass (which, by means of a bent wire and a piece of
worsted thread, is made to revolve at a moderate rate before a
clear fire), till, by the influence of the centrifugal force, a very
perfect film of albumen is spread over the glass. W hen the albu¬
men begins to crack at the edges, the plate is withdrawn from the
fire and appears covered with minute cracks over the whole of its
surface. It is now dipped in a solution of nitrate of silver (70 grains
to an ounce of water), having in it a twentieth part in quantity of
stron" acetic acid. When taken out, it is washed once or twice
with water, and before it is dry, the picture may be taken on it.
If the object is a light one, four minutes will be sufficient to im¬
press the image; but anything red or green will take longer time.
The picture is developed by pouring on the albumen a saturated
solution of gallic acid, and spreading it with a piece of cotton wool
The negative will then appear slowly and gradually of a reddish
colour, and when brought out as far as it will come, a little of the
nitrate of silver solution, mixed with gallic acid, is spread o\er it
with a piece of clean cotton wrool. It now becomes darker and
more distinct, and when fixed with hyposulphite of soda, and
washed with clean water, positive pictures may be taken from it
in the usual manner. . x
The albumen process is not suited for portraits, on account of the
time required to take the picture, but its sensibility may be in¬
creased by the addition of grape-sugar or honey. M. Niepce, in
place of albumen, has proposed to employ 70 grains of stare i
rubbed down in 70 grains of water, and then mixed with 3 or 4 oz.
more of water. After adding 5£ grains of iodide of potassium, the
whole is boiled till the starch is dissolved. When laid upon g ass,
it is said to give films of great sensibility.
For architectural subjects, and for still life, the albumen process
comes nearest to the daguerreotype in delicacy. _ ... _
We are not aware that this art has been to any extent practised
either in this country or abroad. The following new process has posit
been just published by R. M. Grier :—“ A plate coated with asphalt upon D
varnish, known in Prussia by the name of eisenlack, diluted with
rectified benzole or benzine (first product obtained by distillation
of coal tar at a low heat), and when barely dry, and still slightly
sticky, was placed in contact in the pressure-frame with a negative
on albumen, and exposed to the direct rays of the sun for half an
hour. On removal from the pressure-frame, the plate was breathed
on over its whole surface, until the image became distinctly visible,
the parts changed by the action of light absorbing moisture, and
those covered by the blacks of the negative remaining unchanged,
and repelling it. In this state, the image being distinctly visible
1 See Comptes Rendus, &c., April 1844. 3 Manual of Photography, 5th edit., 1857, p. 184.
3 Phil. Trans. 1847. 4 Hunt’s Manual, p. 189.
6 These photographs represent Edinburgh as seen from the Calton Hill, the interior of Holyrood Chapel, two views of Melrose Abbey,
the Golden Gate of St Andrews cathedral, the north door of Dunfermline cathedral, Bonaw, and Benvenue.
PHOTOGRAPH Y.
547
Photogra- it was quickly covered by the bronze powder known as aurum
musivum, which at once changed the almost invisible image to a
direct positive on black and gold, the gold adhering to the parts
that had been protected from the light, and not adhering to those
where the actinic rays had effected such a change in the molecu¬
lar structure of the film as rendered them capable of absorbing
moisture, thus producing a complete picture detailed in all its
parts,” which the editor of the Photographic Journal pronounces to
be “ a great novelty, and well worthy of attentive inspection.”
The eisenlach used by Mr Grier is made as follows:—“To 176
lb. of asphalt, melted over a charcoal fire in a pear-shaped iron
vessel, is added 279 lb. of oil of turpentine, and 16 lb. of well-
boiled linseed oil well heated, the asphalt having been allowed to
cool down as far as possible without becoming solid. The whole
is then incorporated and heated until perfectly liquid.” It re ¬
sembles treacle when cold, and when diluted with benzine, and
made to flow over the plate, it gives a film of a dark amber colour
as really transmitted.1
Art. IY.—Account of the Wet Collodion Process.
The use of collodion, first suggested by M. Le Grey, was intro¬
duced by Mr Archer in 1850. It is the most valuable, the
easiest, and the most sensitive of all the photographic processes, the
daguerreotype and the albumen process being the most difficult.
The number of first-class daguerreotypists has been very small, and
we believe the albumen process has been practised professionally
by no British photographers but Messrs Ross and Thomson; while
the collodion process is universally employed.
Collodion Collodion is a fluid like sherry, and is made by dissolving 15
process for §r8, gun-cotton in a mixture of nine fluid ounces of rectified
negatives, sulphuric ether, and one ounce of alcohol, 60° overproof. The gun¬
cotton is made by mixing 70 gr. of fine selected cotton with water,
nitre, and sulphuric acid, in the proportions of 3, 4, and 5 oz.
When the cotton has been stirred and washed in this bath with two
glass rods, it is taken out, and when freed from every trace of acid
by copious washing in boiling water, it is hung up to dry. After
the cotton, thus prepared, is put into the mixture of ether and al¬
cohol above mentioned, it will be almost wholly dissolved, with the
exception of some fibres which fall to the bottom. To the collo¬
dion thus made add 5 gr. of iodide of potassium, or iodide of am¬
monia, dissolved in the smallest quantity of alcohol, and also about
3 oz. of sulphuric ether, to make it run freely over the plate of
glass. The sensibility of the collodion may be increased by dis¬
solving a few grains of iodide of silver in the iodide of potassium,
the superfluous iodide being allowed to settle before using it.
Six operations are necessary for obtaining a negative picture :—
1. The plate of glass (patent plate is the best)must be freed from
stains, grease, &c., by a mixture of 2 dr. of cyanide of potassium,
2 dr. of tripoli, and 2 oz. of water, the tripoli being added to the
solution of the other two. Cloths free from soap or grease must be
used with the mixture, and when the plate is perfectly clean, par¬
ticles of dust must be removed by a piece of chamois leather.
2. In order to coat the plate, it is held horizontally in the left
hand by a corner, while the right hand pours upon its centre a
pool of collodion sufficient to cover the whole surface. The plate
is then inclined, to make the fluid run to one of the nearest corners,
and then to the other two, the superfluous collodion being drained
off into a bottle by the last corner which it reached. When a solid
film has been left on the plate by the evaporation of the ether, it
is ready to be excited, or made sensitive.
3. The exciting fluid recommended by Mr Thornthwaite is com¬
posed of
Nitrate of silver, fused  6 dr. 1 Alcohol 12 oz.
Iodide of potassium  3 gr. | Distilled water  2 dr.
Dissolve the six drams of the nitrate in 1^ oz. of the distilled water,
and the 3 grains of the iodide in 1 dram of distilled water; mix
the two solutions, and shake them well together until the precipi¬
tate which is first thrown down is re-dissolved. When this takes
place, add the remaining 10J ounces of the distilled water, and the
2 drams of alcohol.” This solution is poured into a dipping-bath,
and the coated plate is immersed “ steadily and unhesitatingly”
into the fluid, and kept there from two to four minutes,—for two
minutes when the temperature is 60°, and longer at lower tempera¬
tures, but always rather longer than shorter. After it has been im¬
mersed half a minute, the plate should be lifted out of the liquid
two or three times, and as often replaced, to get rid of the ether
on its surface. These operations are performed in a room lighted
only through an orange or red pane of glass.
4. When the plate has been lifted out of the solution, and the
liquid drained off into the bath, it must be placed wet in the Photonra-
camera, and kept there for a sufficient number of seconds, whicl\
experience only can determine, depending on the intensity and
character of the light, and on the sensitiveness of the film, which is
so great that in fine weather, and in a well-lighted studio, the pic¬
ture can be taken instantaneously.
5. The best developing solution, according to Mr Thornthwaite,
is obtained by mixing and filtering the following materials:—
Pyrogallic acid  5 gr. 1 Glacial acetic acid  1 dr.
Distilled water  5 oz. | Alcohol  dr.
Having added to a sufficient portion of the above mixture (£ oz. for
a plate 5 inches by 4) 12 drops of a solution of nitrate of silver,
consisting of 50 gr. in an oz. of water, pour it quickly over the sur¬
face of the plate till the picture is completely developed. When
this is done the solution must be poured off, and the surface, when
held horizontally, washed by pouring water over it.
6. In order to fix the image, which is done by removing the yel¬
low iodide of silver, pour over the surface a solution of hyposul¬
phite of soda of the strength of 4 oz. in a pint of water. Every
trace of the hyposulphite must then be washed away by pouring
water copiously over the picture. The plate must now be var¬
nished, either by spirit varnish or by Dr Dymond’s varnish, con¬
sisting of amber dissolved in chloroform.
With the negative picture thus prepared positives may be ob¬
tained, as shown in art. xvi.
This process is, we think, the most important in photography. Collodion
When collodion was first introduced, it was shown by Mr Horne that process for
the negative pictures could be converted into positive ones by mixing positives
a small quantity of nitric acid with the pyrogallic; and Mr Pry 0n glass,
subsequently proved that a better effect would be obtained with the
protosulphite or protonitrate of iron. When
Protosulphate of iron 10 gr. | Distilled water  1 oz.
Nitric acid  2 dr.
are mixed, pour it over the plate to develop the picture. When
one part of the protonitrate, with three of water, is used instead of
the protosulphate, a fine clear picture is produced.
When the negative picture has been developed by either of the
above solutions, a mixture of pyrogallic acid and hyposulphite of
soda is immediately poured over, and when it has been slightly
w'armed, the darkened parts will become of a bright white by the
formation of metallic silver. The picture must then be placed upon
black velvet.
Mr Hennah, in producing positives, uses a thinner collodion than
usual, excites with the ordinary bath, and exposes the plate not
more than half the time necessary for a negative. The picture is
brought out by immersing it in a bath containing
Protosulphate of iron ...40 gr. I Acetic acid 30 gr.
Nitric acid  2 drops | Alcohol  1 oz.
Distilled water  1 oz.
The pictures are then fixed, as is usual, with hyposulphite of soda.
Mr Archer has obtained delicate white pictures by treating the
negative picture, when fixed and thoroughly washed, in the follow¬
ing manner ;—Take a saturated solution of the bichloride of mer¬
cury, and after diluting one part of it with six of water, pour a
small quantity over the picture at one corner, so as to make it flow
uniformly over the surface. The tone of the picture will be imme¬
diately deepened, and though the positive image has nearly disap¬
peared, yet a peculiar whiteness will immediately supervene, and a
fine, delicate, white, positive picture will emerge, its negative cha¬
racter being wholly destroyed. It is singular, however, that this
picture can be changed to a deep-toned black negative, very much
darker than the original one, “ by immersing it after a thorough
washing in a weak solution of hyposulphite of soda, or of am¬
monia.” “ It is very singular,” as Mr Hunt remarks, “ that the pic- #
ture can be alternately changed from a white positive to a black ne¬
gative many times in succession, and very often with improvement.”
A new method of taking collodion pictures on glass, by Mr Wil¬
liam Ackland, is well worthy of the attention of photographers.2
He iodizes his collodion with the following mixture :—
Iodide of potassium  12 gr.
Solution of iodine, (4 gr. in 1 oz. of alcohol)  4 drops.
Alcohol  1 oz.
and it must be mixed with the collodion at least 12 hours before it
is used, in order to allow any sediment to subside. He develops
the latent picture with
Protosulphate of iron 2 dr. 1 Glacial acetic acid  2 dr.
Nitrate of barytes 1J dr. | Alcohol  3 dr.
Rain or distilled water 10 oz.
1 See Journal of the Photographic Society, Nov. 22, 1858, p. 87.
2 This method is elaborately explained, and occupies thirteen closely-printed pages in Mr Thornthwaite’s Guide to Photography, 14th
548
Photogra-
phy-
Transfer¬
ence of
collodion
positives
to paper,
&c.
PHOTOGRAPHY.
And he fixes with one scruple of cyanide of potassium (a poison),
dissolved in 8 oz. of rain or filtered water.1 _
When the picture has been fixed and dried it is varnished on tne
collodion side, and when this is dried it may be placed in a frame
with a black velvet or cloth ground to form the positive shades, in
place of using the black velvet back of the frame or case, it is usual
to cover the glass side, not the collodion side, of the picture with a
black varnish. In this case the sides of the portrait are reversed,
anything on the right side appearing as it were on the left; so that
the picture is not an accurate representation of the sitter. A so -
dier for example, without his right arm, would appear to have lost
his left arm ; and a sitter blind on the left eye would appear blind
on the right one. To avoid this, the black varnish may be applied on
the collodion side after the application of the transparent varnish.
The art of transferring collodion positives from the glass plate to
glazed cloth or leather has been practised in Paris for a long time,
and is now becoming more common in this country. . As the pic¬
tures thus produced may be sent by post, and resist various kinds ot
injury, the art has become a very important one.
Sir W. Newton was the first who transferred collodion positives
to paper. He passed over the collodion picture a varnish composed
of 1 oz. of pure gum mastic dissolved in 8 fluid oz. of alcohol, an
drams of oil of poppies. A piece of thin paper, a little smaller than
the glass, and saturated by a camel-hair pencil in the same varnish,
is then placed in contact with the collodion film, so as to exclude air,
and the whole is allowed to become dry by evaporation.
The following is the simplest method of transferring the picture
to leather or cloth. Dry the glass plate, and having poured spirits
of wine upon it, allow it to drop; then take the black leather or cloth
(which may be glazed or not), and damp it uniformly with spirit of
wine. Lay this on the picture, and pass the hand over it so as to
expel air-bubbles, if there are any. Then turn over the plate, and
observe if there are any air-bubbles beneath the collodion. Lay
the plate on a flat surface with the glass side uppermost, and apply
pressure with suitable weights for half an hour. After this opera¬
tion the collodion picture will be easily detached from the glass plate.
Mr Ostell of Carlisle adds 4 or 5 drops of nitric acid to half an ounce
of spirit of wine, and he pours this over the positive collodion pic¬
ture after it has been dried at the fire or otherwise. It is then laid
on the leather or cloth, the air-bubbles expelled, and pressure ap¬
plied for about half an hour, by placing the combined plate and
leather in the printing-frame. By holding the glass side to the fire
it will be seen when the glass is leaving the collodion film. Mr
Ostell recommends a stronger film of collodion, having either more
gun-cotton in it, or made stronger with a few drops of the nitrate
bath. The picture may be transferred to paper by means of a
varnish.
Mr Ross of New York pours upon the collodion, when it is still
wet from the fixing, a solution of sulphuric acid diluted to three
degrees, and leaves it for one or two minutes. The cloth is then
heated till it is soft and pliable, and while there is still a thin stra¬
tum of humidity upon the collodion, the film is applied to the cloth,
and any bubbles of air driven off by passing the finger lightly over
it. It is useful to wet the cloth with a little alcohol before it is
applied. One of the corners of the film is then raised to see if it
adheres, and if it does not, a stream of wyater is passed between the
glass and the film thus raised to produce their separation.
Mr Howell of Ashtabula, Ohio, prepares the glass plate by coating
it with a thin film of wax. The picture is then taken in the ordi¬
nary way, and after it is fixed, washed, and dried, it is <c covered by
flowing” with a black varnish, made more adhesive by a little
Canada balsam. When the varnish is nearly dry, the paper (pre¬
viously cut to shape, and soaked in water) is laid on and pressed into
close contact with the varnish by means of a small roller covered
with a cushion of cloth.
Art. V.—An Account of the Dry Collodion Process.
Although the wet collodion process possesses a high degree of
sensibility, yet it loses it upon the drying or consolidating of the
film. This is a great disadvantage to the travelling photographer,
or to any person who takes a picture at a distance from his studio ;
and in order to remedy the evil, he must either take a portable tent
with him, admitting only yellow light, or employ one of those in¬
genious cameras which will enable him to excite the plate, and
develop the picture in the interior of the instrument.
One of the earliest methods of preserving sensitive collodion
plates was employed by Messrs Spiller and Crooks, who used nitrate
of magnesia and nitrate of zinc, which, by their deliquescent proper¬
ties, keep the plate of collodion slightly moist. When the plate of Photogra*
collodion has been excited in the nitrate bath for five minutes, it is phy.
then drained, and immersed in a bath consisting of—
Nitrate of magnesia  4 oz. I Glacial acetic acid  1 dr.
Nitrate of silver 12 gr. \ AVater   12 oz.
where it is left five minutes, and then drained for about half an
hour, by placing it upright upon blotting-paper. Plates thus pre¬
pared have been kept three weeks without deterioration. The
picture is developed as in the wet process.2
Mr Shadbolt employs a syrup of 3 volumes of pure honey and
5 volumes of distilled water, stirred with a glass rod till the honey
is dissolved. One volume of alcohol is added to it when it has been
filtered (a work of some hours) through blotting-paper. A portion
of this syrup is poured two or three times over the collodion when
it has been excited in the usual way. Glycerine has been used in
place of honey by Mr Llewellyn, Mr Pollock, and other photogra¬
phers. Mr N. Maskelyne seems to have first discovered it.3
Barnes’ dry collodion is thus composed:—
Camphor  4 gr.
Etherial tincture of chloride
of gold 10 drops.
Tincture of iodine  2 dr.
Gun-cotton  1 gramme.
Iodide of zinc ...1 gramme.
Plain collodion   4 oz.
Solution of iodide of potas¬
sium  5 dr.
Pyro-acetic spirit, purified, 4 dr.
To this mixture 1 oz. of old collodion and 4 oz. of new should be
added, to give it firmness. Plates thus prepared have acted well
at the end of six weeks.
The following process for dry collodion has been successfully
used by M. Dupuis, officer of health to the French army of occu¬
pation at Rome :—The collodion is formed of
Ether, sp. gr. 60,...80 cubic centilitres.
Alcohol, do. 36,...40 do. do.
The exciting bath consists of
Fused nitrate of silver...10 gram. | Distilled water 150 gram.
Acetic acid of commerce 15 gram.
The developing solution consists of
Pyrogallic acid  1 gram. | Distilled water 300 gram.
Citric acid, crystallized 1 gram.
Plates thus prepared by M. Dupuis at Rome on the 6th of May
1857 were brought to London by Sir David Brewster, and deve¬
loped there on the 27th of June. Some had received the picture
at Rome, and others were only prepared. After being kept fifty-
one days, the plates gave very fine pictures.
The following dry collodion process, given by the Rev. J. Law-
son Sisson, has been regarded by competent judges as both simple
and certain :—Having placed four dishes in a row, pour distilled
water into Nos. 1, 2, 3, sufficient to cover a plate. Into No. 4 pour
a mixture of half an oz. of raspberry syrup and 3 oz. of distilled
water. A plate of collodion, made sensitive in the ordinary way,
is put, with the collodion side upwards, into No. 1. A second sen¬
sitive plate is prepared, and when ready, the plate is removed from
No. 1 and placed in No. 2, and the second plate is placed in No. 1.
A third sensitive plate being ready, plates 1 and 2 are moved on to
the next dishes, and plate 3 placed in dish No. 1. In like manner,
when a fourth plate is prepared, plate 1 is placed in the syrup dish
No. 4; the others are moved onward, and plate 4 placed in dish
No. 1. After preparing a fifth plate, plate 1 is lifted from the
syrup dish, and is then placed upright upon blotting-paper to drain
and dry. In this order the process is continued, the time required
for coating and making sensitive a plate being exactly the time
during which any plate should continue in one of the four dishes.
Plates thus prepared are as sensitive and will keep as long as any
of those prepared by the existing keeping processes.
One of the best dry processes is that of Dr Hill Norris, who
roughens the edges of the glass to the extent of l.-12th of an inch
and pours upon it collodion rather old, made with
Rectified ether   5 dr. 1 Soluble cotton .;  5 gr.
Absolute alcohol  5 dr. | Iodide of potassium  5 gr.
the iodide being dissolved in 5 drops of water, and added to the
collodion. Immerse the plate in a 36-grain solution of nitrate of
silver, perfectly saturated with nitrate of silver; and, when well
washed and dried vertically, cover its surface with a solution of
9 grains of pure gelatine (Nelson’s patent) in 1 oz. of water and 4-th
oz. absolute alcohol. When dried quickly, the plate will keep sensi¬
tive for six weeks. Before developing, cover the plate for a minute
or two with distilled water, and then develop it well with a satu¬
rated solution of gallic acid in water, to every ounce of which 10
minims of a 40-grain neutral solution of nitrate of silver has been
added. The development usually occupies from two to four hours.
1 See Phot. Jour., vol. v., p. 10, Aug. 21, 1858. 2 See Phil. Mag., May 1857 ; and Phot. Jour., i., p, 223, and ii., p. 6.
3 Phot. Jour., vol. ii., p. 273. Mr Pollock adds 6 drops of glycerine to 1 oz. of collodion (ibid., p. 309).
4 See Phot. Jour., ii. 151, and iii. 84, 179.
Photogra¬
phy.
PHOTOGRAPHY.
549
M. Muller of Bolbec has given a dry collodion process in which he
forms two solutions,—the of albumen in distilled water, with 10
to 12 drops of creosote: the second, of honey, 250 grammes, animal
charcoal, 5, and water, 100. These two solutions are mixed, every
20 of the first with ten of the second, and applied to the collodion
film when excited. Plates thus prepared retain their sensibility
more than a month.1
Art. VI.—Account of the Oxymel Process.
The oxymel process, as first proposed by Mr Llewellyn, has been
m-blished in many of our treatises on photography, and has under¬
gone various modifications by himself and others.- After much
experience of the process, Mr Llewellyn has, so recently as August
1858, published the following as his process:—An excited collo¬
dion plate, washed in two or three waters, is plunged for a few
seconds into a bath containing
Bromide of potassium  5 gr. j Alcohol    J dr.
Water  1 oz.
When all traces of the free bromide have been washed away for
about five minutes in several waters, the plate is excited, and the
film preserved by the following solution:—
Ordinary oxymel3  J dr. ] Citric acid J gr.
Water  1 oz. [ Nitrate of silver  £ gr.
which is poured on and off the film two or three times, after which
the plate is placed vertically to drain and dry. One ounce will be
sufficient for many plates, 10 X 12. It must be kept from white
light. It will keep for a day or more. Before developing, the film
should be moistened with water, and the ordinary pyrogallic solu¬
tion, with a few drops of an 8-grain solution of nitrate of silver,
used to develop the picture.
Nitrate of silver 3 dr. 1 Animal charcoal 2 scr.
Glacial acetic acid 3 dr. | Distilled water 8 oz.
After exposure in the camera for eight minutes, when the lens is
14 inches in focal length, and the stop half an inch, the picture is
developed by immersion in a saturated solution of gallic acid in
20 oz. of distilled water, and when well washed, it is fixed by the
usual hyposulphite. The transparency, if diminished, may be re¬
stored by holding it before a moderate fire.6
Mr Hunt7 gives the following formula from Le Grey for iodizing
the paper :—Into SJ pints of distilled water put 4000 grains of
rice : steep them till the grains are slightly broken, so that the
water may contain only the glutinous portion. In a little less
than a quart of the rice solution dissolve
Sugar of milk 620 gr. 1 Cyanide of potassium  12 gr.
Iodide of potassium 225 gr. | Fluoride of potassium  7 gr.
The wax paper is dipped in this solution, and drained and dried.
It is excited by 77|- (and for portraits by 150) grains of nitrate of
silver dissolved in 2325 grains of distilled water, to which is added
186 grains of acetic acid. The picture is developed in a bath of
60 grains of gallic and 40 fluid oz. of distilled water, to which 15
or 20 drops of aceto-nitrate of silver is added. It may remain in
it from ten minutes to two hours.
Dr Keith of Edinburgh iodizes with the following solution:—
Pure water     4 oz. I Sugar of milk 3 oz.
Iodide of potassium 750 gr. Common salt 30 gr.
Bromide of ditto 250 gr. | Iodine    8 gr.
in which the thin paper (Canson Brothers’ or Turner’s for nega¬
tives) must be soaked for ten hours, and then hung uj) to dry.
The paper is rendered sensitive by immersion for ten or twelve
minutes in a bath containing the following solution—
Nitrate of silver 360 gr. I Glacial acetic acid  13 dr.
•VVater   12 oz. | or citric acid 20 to 30 gr.
Photogra¬
phy-
The strength of this bath must be kept up by adding two or three
grains of the nitrate for every sheet rendered sensitive. When
the sheet is well washed in a large basin of water, and the super¬
fluous moisture blotted off, it is ready for use when required.
To develop the picture, place the sheet in a saturated solution of
gallic acid, having one grain of pyrogallic acid added to 4 oz. of
the solution. After it has remained four or five minutes, add 12
drops of the aceto-nitrate, agitating the bath to mix it. The de¬
velopment will require from twenty minutes to several hours.
When well washed in several waters, the picture is then fixed by
the hyposulphite of soda.
Art. VII.—Account of the Coliodio-Albumen Process.
This process, invented by M. Taupenot, consists in first collo-
dionizing the plate, dipping it in the silver bath, washing it with
distilled water, and pouring over it albumen iodized in the propor¬
tion of 1^ per cent. The plate is then placed upright to drain and
dry. The plate is excited during ten or twenty seconds in the
aceto-nitrate bath, containing 10 parts of nitrate of silver, 10 of
acetic acid, and 100 of distilled water. The albumen used by Tau¬
penot consists of x
Honey  10 parts. I Iodide of potassium 1J part.
Albumen 100 parts. | Yeast  a little.
After fermentation, the liquid is filtered, and stored in bottles con¬
taining only from three to six fluid ounces.
The defect of this process is the production of blisters in the film
at the time of exciting. M. Julien Blot prevents the blistering by
the use of dextrine, which “ permits the baking of the albumen
without altering at all its iconographic properties, and gives the
possibility of restoring the albumen film, if cracked by the heat,
to its normal condition, by cooling, or by breathing over it.” The
plate will remain sensitive for eight days in winter.
For an elaborate account of Taupenot’s process, we must refer
the reader to the Photographic Journal, vol. iii., p. 102, which con¬
tains an able article by a French photographer. This article is fol¬
lowed by a long and valuable paper on the same process by Mr
William Ackland.4 A variation of this process by Mr Fothergill,
in which no honey is used, will be found in the Photographic Journal
for September 1858.6
Art. YIII.—Account of the Wax-Paper Process.
This process, which has been used with great success by M. Le
Gray and Mr Roger Fenton, is one of considerable interest. The
best paper is that made by M. Lacroix of Angouleme, or the Messrs
Canson Brothers of Annonay. It is laid on a metallic plate, which is
rubbed over while hot with a cake of pure white wax, and when it
has absorbed the wax uniformly, it is placed between some sheets
of smooth bibulous paper, and smoothed with a moderately hot iron
till it becomes equally transparent throughout. It is then iodized
by immersing it for ten minutes in a bath thus composed:—
Iodide of potassium  4 dr. I Honey  1 oz.
Bromide of potassium  J dr. | Distilled water ....:  1 pint-
iodine  4 gr.
After being drained and dried, it is excited by the following aceto-
nitrate :—
Art. IX.—Account of the Metagelaline Process.9
M. Le Gray and other French photographers employed gelatine
or isinglass in the calotype process on paper ; but it is to Mr Max¬
well Lyte that we are indebted for its application to collodion for
a preservative process. It is a well-known property of gelatine
that, after it has been dissolved in hot water, allowed to gelatinize,
melted and again cooled, and this process repeated many times in
succession, the jelly gradually loses its tenacity and continues
liquid even while cool. In this altered condition Mr Maxwell
Lyte gives it the name of Metagelatine, and has found it superior
to all other substances as a varnish for preserving the collodion
film in a dry state. In order to prepare it, “ take 1J oz. of fine
white gelatine, and dissolve it in 10 fluid oz. of boiling distilled
water; then add 2 fluid drs. of strong sulphuric acid which has
been previously diluted with 2J fluid oz. of distilled water, and boil
these together gently for a quarter of an hour. Take the vessel
off the fire, and let it stand for twenty-four hours; then boil gently
ao-ain for another fifteen minutes, and again remove it from the
fire and let it cool for an hour or two. Heat up the liquid once
more to a boiling heat, and saturate the acid by adding powdered
whiting till effervescence ceases. Separate the sulphate of lime
which is thus formed by pressure in a linen cloth, and then stir
into the liquid about a tea-spoonful ot animal black, and filter once
more through paper till perfectly clear. Add water to bring up
the liquid to the bulk of 18 fluid oz., and then add two drops
of creosote to prevent the liquid from becoming mouldy.”
In order to prepare the preservative syrup, Mr Lyte takes
Solution of gelatine 5 oz. | Fine honey £ oz. ]
Distilled water 5 oz.
When the collodion plate is withdrawn from the nitrate bath, it
must be held for an instant with its corner resting on blotting-
paper. The syrup is then to be poured upon it like the collodion.
1 See Cosmos, Nov. 12, 1858, p. 598. 2 BAot. Jour., yol. iii., pp. 24, 67, 109, 126; ibid., vol. iv., p. 9.
3 Oxymel is composed of 10 oz. of honey, 1 oz. of water, and 7 fluid drams of glacial acetic acid.
4 See Phot. Jour., vol. iv. 6 See vol. v., pp. 26 and 46. 6 See Thornthwaite’s Guide, &c., pp. 50-54.
7 Hunt’s Manual, &c., 5th edit,, p. 85. 8 ®ee Phot. Jour., vol. iii., pp. 223, 253, 287,
550
PHOTOGRAPH Y.
Photo"ra- an(l run at a COfnfir. Fresh portions of syrup must then he
uhv poured on and off several times, till it takes evenly over the whole
j surface. When it is to he used in the camera it should he dipped
in cold distilled water, and then excited, developed, and fixed in
the usual manner.
Art. X.—Account of the Bichromate Process Chromotype, Ac.
We have already referred to the valuable photographic proper¬
ties of bichromate of potash, discovered by Mr Mungo Ponton, and
to the experiments of Becquerel and Mr Hunt to which it led.
The chromatype of Mr Hunt is founded on Mr Ponton’s process,
which we have already described. A solution of 1 dr. of sulphate
of copper in 1 oz. of distilled water, with £ oz. of a saturated
solution of bichromate of potash, is applied to the surface of good
paper, which, when dried, is fit for use. It is changed to a dull
brown by the action of light, and gives a negative picture it
checked at this stage ; but if the action of light is prolonged, the
null brown disappears, and we have a positive yellow picture on a
white ground. “ In either case” says Mr Hunt, “ if the paper is
removed from the sunshine, and washed over with a solution of
nitrate of silver, a very beautiful positive picture results.” In order
to fix these pictures, the nitrate of silver must be removed by
washing in pure water. t
According to Mr Bingham, the paper is more sensitive by using
sulphate of nickel in place of sulphate of copper. Another bichro¬
mate process, and a very valuable one, has been proposed by M.
Joseph Sella of Biella in Piedmont, “following,” as he himself
observes, “ the suggestions of Mr Ponton.”
1. The paper, when immersed in a saturated aqueous solution ot
bichromate of potash, is dried in the dark between sheets of bibul-
ous paper. .
2. It is exposed in the camera about two-thirds oi the usual
time, and then immersed for half an hour in water, which must be
changed three or four times. _ .
3. It is then immersed for three or four minutes m a filtered
solution of proto-sulphate of iron containing 5 gr. of the salt to
100 gr. of water. It is then washed in several waters, and soaked
for half an hour.
4. The picture is then immersed in a solution of gallic or pyro-
gallic acid more or less concentrated, and in a few minutes the
image will be developed, having a beautiful black tint bordering
on violet, and one highly appreciated by artists.
If, instead of pyrogallic acid, we use the yellow prussiate of po¬
tash,' the picture will be in Prussian blue; with acids, it will be¬
come green ; and with alkaline solution it will become deeper, and
border on violet. The process may be applied to albumen, gelatine,
&c. Its advantages are, “ economy of time and silver, ease of
execution, certainty of result, and permanence of the picture.’ 1
The following bichromatic process, by Mr William Macraw of
Edinburgh, being an improvement on that of Sella, was communi¬
cated by Sir David Brewster to the British Association at Leeds
in September 1858, and promises to be of great value, both from the
extraordinary cheapness of the materials, and the permanence of
the pictures which it gives. In proof of its excellence, we have
now before us two beautiful photographs, one of a female figure,
and the other of Sir Walter Scott’s monument, which were shown
to the meeting. ,, , .
First, To 25 per cent, of a saturated solution of common salt add
the white of eggs, to be well beaten up and allowed to subside; float
the paper on the albumen for thirty seconds, and hang up to dry.
Secondly, Make a Saturated solution of bichromate of potash, to
which add 25 per cent, of Beaufoy’s acetic acid. Float the ordinary
albumenized paper on this solution for an instant, and when dry
it is fit for use. This must be done in the dark room. Thirdly,
Expose under a negative, in a pressure-frame, in the ordinary
manner, until the picture is sufficiently printed in all its details,
but not over-printed, as is usual with the old process. This re¬
quires not more than/ta//the ordinary time. Fourthly, Immorse
the pictures in a vessel of water in the darkened room ; the un-
decomposed bichromate and albumen then readily leaves the lights
and half-tints of the picture. Change the water frequently, until
it comes from the prints pure and clear. Fifthly, Immerse the
picture now in a saturated solution of protosulphate of iron in cold
water for five minutes, and again rinse well in water. Sixthly,
Immerse the pictures again in a saturated solution of gallic acid in
cold water, and the colour will immediately begin to change to a
fine purple black. Allow the pictures to remain in this until the
deep shadows show no appearance of the yellow bichromate ; repeat
the rinsing. Seventhly, Immerse, finally, in the following mix- Photogra-
ture; Pyrogallic acid, 2 gr.; water, 1 oz.; Beaufoy’s acetic acid, phy.
I oz.; saturated solution of acetate of lead, 2 dr. This mixture v iMI ^ ^ j
brightens up the pictures marvellously, restoring the lights that
may have been partially lost in the previous parts of the process,
deepening the shadows, and bringing out the detail; rinse finally
in water, and the pictures are complete when dried and mounted.
The advantages of this process may be briefly stated as fol-
lows :—First, As to its economy : bichromate of potash, at 2d. per
oz., is substituted for nitrate of silver at 5s. per oz. Secondly,
Photographs in this way can be produced with greater rapidity
than by the old mode. Thirdly, The pictures being composed of
the same materials which form the constituent parts of writing-
ink, it may be fairly inferred that they will last as long as the
paper upon which they are printed.
The bichromate of potash is an essential element in the process
of printing on carbon, invented by Mr Pouncey. Pictures thus
printed have been submitted to the Paris committee, appointed by
the Duke de Luynes to adjudge the prize which he has offered for
the best process of producing permanent photographs ;2 and M.
Gerard has found that the black material in them is truly carbon,
and that they resist the prolonged action of concentrated nitrate
and hydrochloric acids, aqua regia, cyanide of potassium, cyanide
of potassium with iodine, and alkaline sulphides, none of which,
though energetic agents, affected it in the least.
The following is Mr Pouncey’s process, in so far as he has pub¬
lished it in his provisional specification of the 10th April 1858. He
prepares the paper or other material which is to receive the pic¬
ture by applying over its whole surface a composition of vegetable
carbon, gum-arabic, and bichromate of potash. Upon this surface
the negative is placed, and exposed to the light in the usual way.
The positive thus produced is washed with water, which dissolves
the composition at the parts on which the light has not acted, but
does not affect the part on which the light has acted. Mr Pouncey
sometimes substitutes for the vegetable carbon, bitumen or other
colouring matter.
Art. XI.—Accoitnt of FothergilVs Dry Collodion Process.
This process has been much praised by practical photographers
as simple in its application and perfect in its results. The object
of the process is to protect the sensitive film from the action ot the
atmosphere by a varnish of albumen, which is done thus .
Having coated the plate with collodion, place it in a bath of 35
gr. of nitrate of silver in an oz. of water, “ saturated with iodide
in the usual way and after it has been in half a minute, move it
up and down, and when taken out pour lightly on it at one corner,
four drams only for a stereoscopic size plate, of filtered water (a
proportional quantity being used for larger plates), causing the
water to flow freely all over the plate from 15 to 20 seconds, till
all appearance of greasiness is removed. Having made a solution
of albumen, consisting of 10 oz. of white of eggs, distilled water 6
oz., and strong liquor of ammonia 80 minims, agitated into a froth
and strained for use, coat the collodion surface with this, letting it
run several times from corner to corner, and having poured it off,
place the plate in a dish of water, so as to cover it to the depth ot
3-Sths of an inch. Wash it well with two waters, moving the dish
backward and forward, so that the w'ater may flow over the plate.
When taken out, place it on end upon several thicknesses of blot¬
ting-paper, and put it in a dark place to dry. After exposure in the
camera, moisten the picture with distilled w'ater, and develop with
Pyrogallic acid  1 gr. I Alcohol 10 min.
Glacial acetic acid  20 min. | Distilled water   1 oz.
adding to each dram one or two drops of the silver hath.0
Art. Xll.~Account of the Salts of Iron Process—the Ferrotype and
the Catalysotype.
Under the name of the energiatype, Mr Hunt published an ac¬
count of a process in which the salts of iron were used; but he
afterwards adopted the more appropriate name of ferrotype, as ap¬
plicable to all processes in which these salts w'ere employed. Good
paper is washed over with the following solution :—
Succinic acid, pure ... 5 gr. I Common salt   3 gr.
Water  1 fluid oz. j Mucilage of gum-arabic... ^ dr.
The paper w'hen dry is drawn over the surface of a solution of 60
gr. of nitrate of silver in one oz. of water. When dried in the
dark the paper is of a pure white, and may be kept for a consider-
l muZrnSf™! Salmon’have sent in competition for thi. prirc positive photogr.pbB both in carbon and “’f?f jg .
a This process, by Mr A. Keene, differs slightly from that of Mr Fothergtll. (See Liverpool and Manchester Phot. Joui., Aug. 1,,
and Phot. Jour., Sept. 21, 1858.)
PHOTOGRAPHY.
551
able time in a portfolio, for use, carefully preserved from the’ least
light. After exposure in the camera, the picture is developed by
drawing the prepared side of the paper over a saturated solution
of protosulphate of iron and 2 or 3 dr. of mucilage of gum-arabic.
The picture will appear almost immediately. The paper, when
well washed, is fixed as usual.
Under the name of the catalysotype, Dr Woods of Parsonstown has
given the following iron process :—A sheet of wove post is steeped
for a few minutes in a mixture of two drops of hydrochloric acid
in three oz. of water. When well wet, it is washed over with a mix¬
ture of half a dr. of the syrup of iodide of iron, water 2J- dr., and
tincture of iodine 1 drop. When dried with bibulous paper, it is
washed over evenly, in the dark, with a 10 gr. solution of nitrate
of silver in an oz. of water. The paper is now ready for the
camera, and the sooner it is used the better. The exposure should
be from two to thirty seconds, and in clear weather without sun¬
shine, fifteen seconds on an average. The picture, invisible at first,
develops itself “ gradually till it arrives at a state of perfection,
which is not attained by photography produced by any other process.”
The picture is then fixed with a solution of bromide of potassium,
15 or 20 gr. to the oz., and iodide of potassium, 5 gr. to the oz.
Dr Woods has more recently recommended the following formula,
which gives a darker negative, and in which soaking in the hy¬
drochloric solution is not necessary.
Syrup of iodine  2 dr. | Tincture of iodine...10 to 12 drops.
Distilled water   2 dr.
With this solution brush over the paper, dry it after a few minutes,
and after exposure in the camera, wash it with 1 dr. of nitrate of
silver in 1 oz. of pure water. Fix it after washing in a solution of
iodide of potassium, 5 gr. to the oz. of water, and then wash it again.
Akt. XIII.— On the Nitrate of Uranium Process for obtaining
Positives on Paper.
This valuable process consists in substituting nitrate of uranium
in place of nitrate of silver. M. Niepce de St Victor has described
three methods of obtaining positive pictures with this salt,—viz.,
with nitrate of silver, and with the chloride and bichloride of
mercury.
1. Dissolve 20 parts of the nitrate of uranium in 100 of distilled
water, and on the surface of this solution, kept from light, float
the paper (thin paper is preferable) for five minutes, and suspend it
in the air free from light. When exposed under a negative from
one to ten minutes in the sun, and from fifteen to sixty in the
shade, the picture will be slightly visible, and may be kept in the
dark one or two days before it is developed. In a bath of 6 parts
of nitrate of silver in 100 of distilled water, immerse the picture
rapidly, and it will be developed in thirty or forty seconds, having
a grey sepia tint, which becomes brown when kept ten minutes in
the bath. The proof is now to be washed in two or three vraters,
and will be permanent, because unassailable by boiling cyanide of
potassium.
2. In using chloride of gold, immerse the picture in a bath of
2 grammes of chloride of gold in 1000 grammes of water, adding
some drops of hydrochloric acid. The picture will appear instan¬
taneously, its blue tone deepening into a black when the exposure
to the sun has been double that which is required with the nitrate of
silver. When developed withdraw it rapidly, wash it well, and fix it.
3. The bichloride of mercury gives to the picture grey-black
tones, and the black of engravings. The paper prepared by the
nitrate of uranium must be exposed three times as long as in the two
preceding processes. It is then immersed in a bath of 100 grammes
of ordinary water and of bichloride of mercury to saturation, at a
temperature of 50° Fahr. After two or three minutes the proof
loses its colour, and when it becomes white it is carefully washed,
put into the silver bath, where it develops itself slowly, and in
from ten to fifteen minutes arrives at a black. It is then washed
in several waters.1
M. Crespon of Nismes, M. Brebisson, and other photographers,
have obtained very fine positives by this process; but M. Humbert
de Molard has questioned its excellence and the permanency of
the pictures produced by it; while M. Bayard asserts that he has
produced as good and permanent pictures with the ammonio-citrate
of iron and the nitrate of silver, or the chloride of gold.2
In the year 1855, at the meeting of the British Association in
Glasgow, Mr C. J. Burnett described a new process for obtaining
positives on paper by means of the nitrate or other salts of uranium.
He exhibited specimens developed in four different ways: 1. By
salts of silver, fixed by the hyposulphite of soda, and toned by an
acid, neutral or alkaline, gold chloride bath, or by platinum palla-
diates or aurates. Paper thus prepared wiU keep very long in
hot climates, especially if the picture is developed with salts of
iron. One of Mr Burnett’s specimens showed a radiation of actin¬
ism absorbed by a newspaper ;3 2. By chlorides of gold, acid, alka¬
line, and neutral; 3. By ferrid-cyanide of potassium, tonable by a
very weak iron bath; and 4. By the ferro-cyanide of potassium.
A uranium printing process, based on the fact that all bodies
absorb light more or less, has been recently patented by Mr Wm.
Clark. It is called" Photography by Absorption of Light,” and is
thus performed :—A sheet of paper that has been a number of days
in the dark is impregnated by immersion in a solution of salt of
uranium, which the patentee says “ has the property of absorbing
a very large quantity of light.” He prefers a solution of the nitrate
of the oxide of uranium. When of a nice straw-yellow colour it is
dried, and kept in the dark. After exposure to the sun, under a
negative, it is exposed for a quarter of an hour. The negative is
removed, and the picture is brought out with a solution of 6 parts
of nitrate of silver, and 100 of water. It is then fixed with water
only. The chemical picture thus produced may be made black by
a solution of chloride of gold, and red or blue by combinations of
the salts of gold and silver.4 *
In using the uranium process, M. Hagen obtains great sensitive¬
ness by removing the size from the paper with boiling water.
When pressed between sheets of blotting-paper, and still damp, it
is floated on the uranium solution. Pictures of greater intensity
are obtained by adding a little alcohol or ether to the silver salt.6
Photogra¬
phy.
Art. XIV.—Photography on Porcelain, Parian, Alabaster, Enamelled
Glass, Ivory, and Enamelled Metals.
So early as 1851 Mr Fox Talbot and Mr Malone took out a
patent for taking negative photographs on semi-transparent un¬
glazed porcelain, the results of which we have not seen. On the
14th July 1857 Mr Tunny and Mr Macraw exhibited to the Photo¬
graphic Society of Scotland the results of processes, to which the
one gave the name of vitro-heliography, and the other that of vitro-
type. On the 5th November Mr Tunny communicated to the Pho¬
tographic Society in Edinburgh the process by which he obtained
portraits upon porcelain, parian, enamelled glass, and enamelled
metal. A plate of any of these substances is coated with collodion
and albumen, separately or combined. When collodion is used,
excite the film in the ordinary nitrate bath. Lay the porcelain
plate on its back in a vessel, cover the film with water, and lay the
negative upon the film. It is next exposed for a second to diffused
light, or for 5 or 6 seconds to gas-light; and the picture is de¬
veloped by first pouring over its surface a solution of nitrate of
silver, 12 gr. to the ounce of water, acidulated with a few drops of
acetic acid; and, second, by a solution of protosulphate of iron,
25 gr. to an ounce of water, with 25 drops of acetic acid. The
picture will develop itself rapidly, and when complete it is washed
copiously in water, and fixed as usual.6
Previous to Mr Tunny’s communication, Mr Macraw had, on the
2d July, specified a patent, which he did not complete, for taking
positives direct in the camera, on porcelain, china, earthenware,
opal glass, ivory, bone, prepared wood, or white or coloured en¬
amels. An unglazed slab of porcelain, coated with collodion, is
excited in the nitrate of silver bath, and exposed in the camera.
When taken into a dark room, the film is saturated with weak
protosulphate of iron or pyrogallic acid, which is immediately
washed off. It is then momentarily exposed to subdued daylight
or artificial light, and immediately treated with a developing fluid,
when the latent image will appear as a positive, with the lights and
shadows correct. The picture is then developed as usual. The
picture thus obtained is left-handed ; and in order to remedy this,
Mr Macraw places a negative photograph of the object to be de¬
picted on the porcelain at such a distance in front of the camera,
with a mirror placed behind the image at an angle of 45 , as that
a well-defined image is obtained on the porcelain.7
We have now before us two very fine female portraits, of great
softness and delicacy, executed on porcelain by Mr Macraw.
In July 1857 Mr O. J. Burnett pointed out the importance of
burning in photographic portraits in porcelain, and he described
processes for this purpose, and exhibited specimens which he had
produced by them.8
1 Phot. Jour., iv. 169, 200; Comptes Rendus, &c., xlv. 811 ; xlvi. 448, 4S9. 2 See Cosmos,Sept. 3,1858, p. 277, and Oct. 1, 1858, p. 395,
3 See Photographic Notes, March and April 1857 ; and Liverpool and Manchester Phot. Jour., Aug. 1 and Dec. I, 1858.
4 Phot. Notes, vol. Hi., p. 278, Dec. 18, 1858, 6 FAot. Jour., vol. v., p. 75, Nov. 22, 1858.
6 Phot. Jour., vol. iv., p. 88, Nov. 21, 1857. 7 ^ee Tieport of the British Association for 1858.
8 Phot. Jour., vol. iv., p. 15, Aug. 1857.
552
Photogra¬
phy-
PHOTOGRAPHY.
then fixed and toned in a bath thus composedTo a solution of 4 oz. Photogra-
of hyposulphite of soda in 6 oz. of water add 2 dr. of a solution of J)hy-
chloride of gold in 4 oz. of water ; and afterwards add a solution ^ it_ ^
of 30 gr. of nitrate of silver in 1 oz. of water. The picture is kept
in this bath from 10 minutes to an hour, till it has acquired an
agreeable tint, and is sufficiently fixed.
The sensitive solution most commonly used is a solution of 1 dr.
of nitrate of silver in 1 oz. of distilled water. It is applied to the
paper in the same manner as the ammonio-nitrate, and the picture
is toned and fixed in the same manner.
The paper may be albumenized by the following process:—Take
the white of an egg 1 oz., and water 1 oz., beat them into a froth,
adding 10 gr. of muriate of ammonia or soda to each ounce of the
mixture. Float the paper upon this solution for a few minutes,
uc —  — — ~ « , pressing out any air-bubbles, and then hang it up to dry. A hot
crystal. If we take an opaque tube, closed at one end, and lined .g °hen pas'se(i over ;tg surfaCe to set the albumen, and render
with white paper, and expose the open end to the sun for an hour, ^ jnsoiuble. When wanted for use it is excited by a solution of
60 gr. of nitrate of silver in 1 oz. of water; and it is toned and
fixed by the process already described. All positives, however
produced, must be long soaked in hot and cold water repeatedly
changed.
Photographs under the name of alabastrine have been advertised
as a newndiscovery by Messrs Squire & Co. They are, however, only
glass positives with another name, and are produced by what is
called the alabastrine solution, the composition of which is a secret.
Aet. XV.—On. the Recent Discoveries in Photography of M. Niepce
de St Victor.
Having exposed to the sun for a quarter of an hour an engraving
which had been kept several days in the dark, he applied it to a
sheet of sensitive paper, and after four hours’ contact in the dark, he
obtained a negative picture of the engraving. If the distance be¬
tween the engraving and the paper is one-eighth of an inch, or if
a film of collodion or gelatine is interposed, the picture will still
be obtained, but not if the film consists of mica, glass, or rock-
W I Lll VV LILLI'-' j   “ X #
and if at the end of twenty-four hours we place a sensitive paper
on the open end of the tube, we shall obtain a negative image of
the opening. If we place a sheet of white paper that had been in
the dark in the camera, to receive for three hours a picture bril¬
liantly illuminated by the sun, and having taken it out, apply it
to a piece of sensitive paper, it will in twenty-four hours reproduce
in the dark a very visible copy of the picture in the camera.
This “persistent activity,” or “storing up of light,” as M.
Niepce calls it, he exhibits in the following experiment:—A glass
or paper negative having been placed on a sheet of paper that has
been several days in the dark, he exposes it for a sufficient time to
the sun’s rays, and after taking out the paper in the dark, he de¬
velops the picture with a solution of nitrate of silver, and fixes it
by merely washing it in pure water.1
In another Memoir, just published, M. Niepce has described
another action of light, which opens up a new and immense field to
photography, in so far as it proves that almost all chemical actions
are fit to give photographic pictures. Take a solution of any soluble
substance whatever, and impregnate with it a sheet of paper.
Allow the impregnated sheet to dry in the dark; expose it under
a negative to the sun, and having taken it out in the dark, treat it
with any re-agent capable of transforming the soluble substance,
or entering into combination with it, and we shall have a visible
image, the chemical becoming a photogenic action. The process
may’ be reversed with the same result, by impregnating the paper
with the re-agent and developing with the soluble substance. The
principal re-agents to be employed are the salts of gold and silver,
the dyes of turnesol and curcuma, and iodide of potassium for
common paper sized with soap. If nitrate of uranium is the soluble
substance, and red prussiate of potash the re-agent, the picture will
be of a fine blood-red colour, and will be fixed by washing in pure
water. If the picture is put into a solution of a salt of copper
without washing, it will take different shades according as the heat
is more or less intense. If the picture is treated with the prussiate
of iron instead of the prussiate of potash, its colour will be a beau¬
tiful blue.2
Art. XVI.— On the Processes for Printing Positives.
When a good negative picture—that is, one in which the lights
are black and the shades white—has been produced, positive pictures
may be obtained by placing the negative above paper or any other
substance sensitive to light; cover it with a thick plate of colour¬
less glass, pressed against it in what is called a copying-frame, and
exposing it to the sun, or to daylight, or to artificial light. The
best copying-frames are those which have a jointed back to allow
the artist to observe the progress of the picture without displacing
the negative.
The best paper for positives are Turner’s positive, and the new Ger¬
man positive, or papier Saxe. When the paper is cut of the proper
size, it is soaked for five or ten minutes in a solution of 110 gr. of
muriate of soda (common salt) in 24 oz. of water; or in a solution
of 1 scr. of muriate of ammonia in 10 oz. of water. They are then
hung up, or pinned up with “ photographic pins” to dry. The sen¬
sitive solution (which was first suggested by Mr Alfred Smee) is
obtained by dissolving 108 gr. of nitrate of silver in 3 oz. of water,
and adding liquor ammonia, drop by drop, until the dark precipi¬
tate which is formed by the first drops is nearly dissolved, a slight
turbidity remaining. A sheet of the salted paper, when dry, is laid
on a flat board in ordinary light, with its smooth side uppermost,
and marked with a pencil. It is then brushed over with a camel-
hair pencil or a pellet of cotton, and when dry may be placed in
the copying-frame beneath the negative, and exposed to the sun.
When it is printed it is soaked for an hour or two in water, and
Art. XVII.—On Microscopic Photographs.
In our article on the Microscope3 we have devoted a separate
chapter to the “ Application of Photography to the Microscope,” and
we have briefly referred to microscopic photographs, or those
which are so exceedingly minute that the objects are invisible to the
unassisted eye, Mr Dancer of Manchester seems to have been the
first photographer who executed these remarkable productions.
It was obvious that no new principle was involved in the execution
of these portraits ; but one could not but admire the dexterity and
delicacy of manipulation in taking photographs between the 30th
and 40th of an inch square, in developing and fixing them, and in
placing them between two plates ot glass, with Canada balsam
interposed.
Mr Dancer did not describe the optical process which he em¬
ployed ; but Mr Shadbolt, who executed and exhibited photographs
from the 20th to the 40th of an inch in diameter so early as March
1854,4 has given a drawing and description of the method which
he employed.5 In this delicate art a structureless collodion is ne¬
cessary, which is obtained by the formula-
Pure ether  5 dr.
Alcohol (60 overproof)  3 dr.
Chloroform 20 min.
Iodide of potassium  5 gr.
Soluble cotton6 till the solution is slimy.
After adding the chloroform to the ether and cotton, and one dram
of alcohol, add the other 2 dr. of alcohol containing the iodide.
An achromatic object-glass, 1 or 1^ inches in focal length, is
made the lens of a small camera, and the negative picture to be
reduced is placed in front of it at such a distance that the image
in its focus is sufficiently minute ; or it may be stuck into the sub¬
stage of the microscope, as done by Mr Shadbolt, and the focusing
and union of the actinic and luminous rays effected by another ob¬
ject-glass in its place in the microscope. Mr Jackson7 and Mr
Hardwick8 had small cameras, the one made by Koss, and the other
by Horne and Thornthwaite. Hither daylight or artificial Jight may
be employed in illuminating the negatives, which may be taken
directly from living figures.
Art. XVIII.—On the-Production of Photographs from Coloured
Objects.
Although M. Biot in 1840 regarded it as an illusion to attempt
to obtain the colours of nature photographically, yet in the same
year Sir John Herschel actually procured upon photographic paper
a coloured image of the solar spectrum ; and by subsequently using
paper long kept, he obtained a better representation of it, light
upon a dark ground. Mr Hunt frequently obtained coloured pic¬
tures of the spectrum, dark upon a light ground ; but the most beau¬
tiful were upon “ the daguerreotype iodidated tablets.” By pre¬
paring metallic plates with chlorine, M. E.Becquerel obtained, and
exhibited to the Academy of Sciences, “ a photographic image of
the solar spectrum, and coloured photographs from the camera ob-
scura.” These colours, though durable for a long time in the dark,
resisted every attempt to fix them. M. Niepce de St Victor has
been more successful, by using the purest silver ; and he is said to
have obtained “ all the colours of a picture by preparing a bath
composed of the deuto-chloride of copper.” Some of these helio¬
chromes in the possession of Mr Malone were, as seen by Mr Hunt,
“ perfectly coloured in correspondence with the drawings of which
1 See Comptes Rendus, &c., tom. xlv,, p. 811, Nov. 1857, and tom. xlvi., pp. 448 and 489, May 1858.
2 Ibid., tom. xlvii., p. 866, Nov. 29, 1858. 3 Vol. xiv., p. 801. 4 Phot. Jour., i., p. 194. 5 Ibid., iv., p. 79.
6 The linen of old cambric is recommended by Mr Hardwick (Phot, Jour., iv, p. 82). 7 Phot. Jour., iv. 81. 8 Ibid., iv. 93.
PHOTOGRAPHY.
553
Photogra- they were copies; ” but no successful mode of fixing them has yet
phy. been discovered, though M. Niepce de St Victor has made a hun-
\ , _, / dred attempts to do this.
The colours of nature have been produced accidentally by seve¬
ral photographers. In taking a stereoscopic picture on collodion
of ruins covered with ivy, a gentleman in Durham, who signs him¬
self “ Magnet,” was surprised to find the ivy green, the trunks of old
trees brown, the stones gray, and “the whole with the colours
varied in a high degree.” The colours were not altered in fixing
the picture, but in drying it they lost their lustre, with the excep¬
tion of the green, which remained perfectly distinct. The same
effect was produced in a second picture, taken in a bright sun in
twenty seconds. The collodion employed was perfectly colourless,
and was two months old. It gave a thin film. It was prepared
with iodide of potassium and a little bromine.1
M. Raymond,2 a French photographer, has observed similar
colorific effects. When a picture upon collodion began to be de¬
veloped under the combined action of the pyrogallic and acetic
acids, he exposed it to light without previously washing it; and he
observed it transform itself quickly into a direct positive, and assume
with more or less perfection the colours of the model. The most per¬
fect picture he obtained required a quarter of an hour for its de¬
velopment. It lost none of its brightness by an exposure of some
months to the air, and even after two years it was not completely
effaced.
Some of the colorific effects observed by photographers are the
colours of thin plates, and have no connection whatever with the
colours of nature. The action of light upon the collodion film
changes either its thickness directly, or indirectly by changing its
solubility; so that the light and dark parts of the picture exhibit
different tints in Newton’s scale of colours. We have observed
this effect in very thin films of collodion on glass, and also in the
same films after having been transferred to paper.
Art. XIX.—On the Applications of Photography.
Our limits will not permit us to dwell at any length on the nu¬
merous and important applications of this beautiful art. The em¬
ployment of photography in the arts of painting and sculpture has
been recommended by artists of the highest name. “ Instead of
superseding the arts of design, photography will supply them with
new materials—with collections of costume, with studies of dra¬
pery and of form, and with scenes in life and facts in nature which,
if they possess at all, they possess imperfectly, and without which
Art must be stationary, if she does not languish and decline.”3 The
instantaneous process, as it is called, of taking pictures on collodion
in half a second has enabled the artist to delineate “ a thorough¬
fare in London with its noonday crowd,” to seize the momentary
attitudes and expressions of passion, and to fix on his tablet the ges¬
tures of the orator and the furious movements of the lunatic. Such
pictures have been erroneously represented as the results of mere
mechanical dexterity, to which the mind of the artist had not im¬
parted “ the impress of thought;” but if the portrait is taken with
optical truth, which has yet to be done, and if, in the twinkling of
an eye—if in half a second, a portion of time less than the duration
of the expression of thought or sentiment—a portrait is taken, that
portrait must be perfect, and superior to anything that art can pro¬
duce. It is absolute truth, to which art cannot arrive. It is as
true as the portrait of the sitter seen by reflection in the most per¬
fect mirror ; and though the artist might improve the material pic¬
ture by a deviation from truth, he cannot add a single iota to its
expressions of thought or of feeling.
To the sculptor, photography, whether simple or binocular, is of
inestimable value. He can fill his portfolio with copies of all the
treasures of the Vatican, the British Museum, and the repositories
of art in Berlin, Munich, and other European cities. “ They all
exhibit to him forms more than human, though human still, em¬
bodying all that is true and beautiful in what might be manand
when taken binocularly, they may be raised by the stereoscope into
true relief, and studied, as if the originals were placed before him.
The living, the dying, and the dead may thus be modelled without
the rude contact of a mask, and those noble forms perpetuated
which affection or gratitude has endeared.
To the pursuits of the architect, the engineer, and the mechanist,
photography is equally applicable ; and in the diffusion of know¬
ledge, and for the purposes of education, its power will be speedily Photogra-
recognised. Nor will it be less influential in humanizing the phy.
humbler classes of society. Portraits of their families in beautiful i /
frames and morocco cases can be purchased for a shilling, and even
for sixpence each. The emigrant may carry to his distant home
the portraits of those from whom he has been obliged to part, and
the humble peasant may adorn his cottage not only with likenesses
of his family and friends, but with accurate photographs of various
objects in art and in nature which he may desire to contemplate.-4 *
The calico-printer may multiply his patterns photographically ;
and the carpet manufacturer and general decorator may fix in paper
all the beautiful patterns which are given by the kaleidoscope.6
In the sciences of astronomy, zoology, geology, meteorology,
ethnology, electricity, and magnetism, photography has been ad¬
vantageously employed. The spots of the sun, the surface of the
moon, the forms of the planets, and even groups of stars, have been
delineated by their own light; and it has been stated “ that the
photographic moon indicates an atmospheric stratum of considerable
density.” Mr De la Rue has obtained pictures of this luminary
analogous to binocular ones, which, when aided by the stereoscope,
exhibit her as a solid globe. The meteorologist registers photo¬
graphically in his absence the indications of the barometer, ther¬
mometer, and hygrometer; the variations of the earth’s magnetism
are recorded for every minute on chemically-prepared paper, and
the electricity of the atmosphere, brought down into the obser¬
vatory, is made to exhibit on paper the number of its variations
and the intensity of its action. The ethnologist has begun to collect
accurate pictures of the different races of man. The zoologist has
obtained forms of animal life which the painter had attempted in
vain to procure. The geologist has obtained delineations of phe¬
nomena which defied the highest efforts of his pencil; and the bo¬
tanist has transferred to imperishable tablets those beautiful and
complex forms of vegetable life which we seek in vain in the richest
botanical collections.
The last, and certainly the least application of photography, is
one wTffch was introduced last year at Nice. The Duke of Parma
had his portrait at full length placed upon his visiting-cards.
Some English gentlemen imitated his example; and it has been
partially followed in London and in Paris.6 In order to diminish
the expense, M. Besson of Paris takes 24 negatives at once on the
same sheet of paper with a 24-lens camera ; and he is thus able to
print 24 cards at the same time, and greatly reduce the expense of
their production.
Art. XX.—On the method of taking correct Photographic Portraits.
In our article Optics,7 we have devoted a separate section to
prove that all portraits taken by large lenses8 are monstrous
representations of the human form, and that all pictures of solid
bodies so taken are incorrect. The defects of such lenses may be
shortly enumerated.
1. They introduce into the picture parts of the solid figure which
cannot be seen from any one point of sight.
2. Every picture taken by a large lens is a combination of an
infinite number of incoincident pictures, as seen from every point
of the lens.
3. A large lens introduces into a picture objects eclipsed by or
placed behind other objects.
4. In portrait lenses consisting of two separate lenses there are
eight surfaces, each of which reflects back upon the sensitive sur¬
face a portion of light more or less intense.
5. In such lenses their combined thicknesses is such as to injure
the distinctness of the picture, if there is any defect (as there must
be, however small) in the homogeneity of the glass.
6. In the images formed by such lenses, lines w-hich should be
straight are curved, and curved lines have not their proper curvature.
7. With the most perfect lens, the parts of objects at different
distances have different degrees of distinctness on the gray glass.
The degree of indistinctness increases with the diameter of the lens,
because it is measured by the section of a cone of rays whose base
is the lens itself.
8. In passing through such a thickness of glass, many of the
actinic rays are lost by absorption.
From all these objections small lenses are free; and as very sen¬
sitive photographic processes have been discovered, we would press
1 Phot. Jour., April 21, 1858 vol. iv., p. 204. The editor of Cosmos has published these observations in his No. for *he 26th Nov.
1858, p. 651, as made by M. Muguet (a misprint for Magnet, not for M. Magnet.') and refers to the Bulletin de la SocietS Fran$ai*e as
his authority ! 2 Cosmos, Nov. 26, 1858,. p. 653.
3 Brewster’s TVeartse on t/ie/Stereoscope, chap, x., p. 166. , , ,
4 The application of simple and binocular photography to these various purposes has been treated at great length by Sir David Brew¬
ster in his Treatise on the Stereoscope, chaps, x., xi., xii., and xiii. 6 Brewster’s Treatise on the Kaleidoscope, 2d ed., eh. xxi., p. 148.
6 The expense of these cards was L.l, 10s. per 100. T ^ xvi., PP- 569, 570.
8 Lenses above half an inch in diameter (vol. xvi., p. 571).
VOL. XVII. 4 A
554
P H 0
Photo-Li- upon the photographer the nece.sity of •bnndoning large
1 hoto Jj P emnlovinff sinffle plano-convex lenses of rock-crystal T inch in
th^graphy. 2 „ le hive deecrihed in the article 0™.
 ^ In addition to the deformities produced hy large lense*’ Phot°
graphic portraits are rendered hideous in consequence of every
imnerfection of the human face being magnified.
Those who already possess large lenses and large cameras, an
are unwilling to abandon them, might obtain good portraits by
taking them It considerable distances; and if the picture is deemed
too small it may be enlarged to any size in the copying camera.
Very small portraits may" be taken by the -—ic lenses of
compound microscopes placed in cameras an inch or two long (art.
xvii.), and the picture subsequently enlarged. .
Should it be wished to take a portrait as seen at a ce^m
tance by two eyes, it should be taken by an achromatic lens «
inches in focal length, and having all its surface covered wVh the
exception of two apertures, each a quarter of an inch in diameter,
and placed at the distance of 2J inches. . . c+ereo-
The defects of large lenses have an important bearing
scopic photography, which is at present practised in open violation
of scientific principles. (See article Stereoscop .)
Art. XXI.—On Photographic Apparatus.
The most essential part of photographic apparatus is the camera
which has been described in its simplest form m our article Optic .
Many ingenious forms of this instrument have been devised and
constructed for sale; some portable, and some not; wlnle others have
been so constructed that the photographer «>ay perform in their
interior all the operations of developing and fixing his negati e
pictures.
A camera' of the common form,
shown in the annexed figure 1,
where A is the tube holding the
lens or lenses, and BC the body of
the camera, the back of part of
which slides into the front part,
in order that the person or land¬
scape to be photographed may
be distinctly represented on the
ground glass at D. The adjust¬
ment is completed by a rack and
pinion at S (figs. 4 and 5), which moves out and in the tube holding
the lens or lenses. In order to ascertain when the part of the ob¬
ject which is wished to be most distinctly seen is most sharply
depicted on the ground glass, or is in the true conjugate focus of
the lens, Sir David Brewster first suggested the use of what is called
a focusing glass, which is a tube with an eye-piece of one or more
lensts, which has its or their focus at the end of the tube. When the
end of the tube is placed on the ground glass, the observer will as¬
certain when the image is distinct. The roughness of the glass,
however, makes such a method very imperfect; and therefore Sir
P H O
like a telescope, and thus obtain the most perfect adjustment of Photo-Li¬
the luminous focus of the lens, the usual means being taken to ob- thography.
tain a coincidence of the luminous and actinic focus
The portable form of the camera, as constructed by Captam
Powkes, is shown in the annexed figures—when it is open (fig. 2),
and when it is shut (fig. 3).3 , i. , „
A section of the tube containing the achromatic lenses of
almost every camera is shown in figs. 4 and 5, where AB, CD, are
as made by Mr Ottewill, is
Fig. 1.
J1
Fig. 3.
David Brewster long ago proposed either to" cut a hole in. the
glass, or polish the central part of it, or fit up the camera precisely
Fig. 4. FiS-5-'
the two lenses used in taking portraits, with a suitable stop, mn,
between them. In order to take landscapes, the lens CD is
removed, and the lens AB placed as in fig. 5, with the stop mn
in front of it. Mr Skaife uses what he calls a ptsto (camera,
with a single lens three-fourths of an inch in diameter, to produce
photographs on small concave lenses.4
In all these cameras the picture is inverted, on the glass, so that
the artist cannot possibly form a correct judgment of the pose
of individual figures, or of the grouping of several figures whose
portraits are required. We would recommend, therefore, the use
of an erecting camera,6 for the single purpose of enabling the
artist to judge of the post or grouping of the picture. When the
artist is satisfied with this, the erecting camera should be replaced
by the inverting one. (See arts. xvii. and xx.)
Among the various lenses used by photographers or proposed by
optical writers, that of M. Petzval has been ascertained, not qnly
by theory, but by direct experiment, to be the best. It has been
the practice to test a lens by the pictures which it produces; but
the picture thus used as a test is influenced by various causes, so
that it is impossible to separate the effect produced by these causes
from that which is due to the lens. The lens of every camera
should be made the object-glass of a telescope, and tried with dif¬
ferent eye-pieces and different apertures; and from the data thus
procured a'photographer of any optical knowledge will have no
difficulty in ascertaining the value of his lens. With large aper¬
tures, it will doubtless be found, especially from the projected
pictures of rectilineal objects, that straight lines are much bent
into curves ; and the photographer will learn, what so few of them
know, that if he wants a true picture he must attend to the aperture
of his lens, M. Petzval has proposed the excellent test of copying
a map on the scale of a fifth part of the original, and observing
the difference between the copy and the original. - ,
* In almost all the cameras used in taking portraits, the focal
length of the lens exceeds, and is sometimes double, the focal length
of the eye; so that all the irregularities in the human skin are
magnified, thus adding imperfections not generally visible to those
of large and imperfect lenses. , „ ,
In an article of limited extent like the present, we cannot find
room for drawings and descriptions of copying and en argmg ca-
meras ; of the ingenious pieces of apparatus indented by r au
det, such as the photographometer, dynactinometer, an oci
meter ; and of the various pieces of apparatus which are use in
photographic processes. For an account of these, we refer e
reader to the Abbe Moigno’s Repertoire d'Optique Moderne, parts n.,
iii., iv.; Hunt’s Manual of Photography, 5th edition, 1857 ; Hunt s
Practice of Photoqraphy, 1857; Thornthwaite’s Guide to Photography,
14th edition, 1857 ; and Boss and Thomson’s Plain Answers to Com¬
mon Questions regarding Photography, 1853. (D- Bv
PHOTO-LITHOGRAPHY, the name of a new art
which we owe to Mr Macpherson of Rome. A photograph,
impressed on the surface of a lithographic stone, is treated
in the ordinary way, and copies afterwards taken of it. Two
different processes have been patented in England, one by
M. Poitevin, and the other by Mr Newton as the inven¬
tion of Messrs Culling and Bradford of Boston.
In M. Poitevin’s patent the stone is covered with one or more
films of a mixture of albumen or gelatine, and a concentrated solu¬
tion of bichromate of potash. This film is then dried if a negative
picture is to be copied upon it; but it may be used in a moist state
if it is to receive the picture in the camera. When the surface is
dry it is moistened with a sponge, and while moist the lithographic
ink is applied to the surface by a ball or dabber, or other means,
when it will be found to adhere only to those parts which have
been affected by light.
In Messrs Culling and Bradford’s process, a film of prepared gum-
arabic is used which has been deprived of its power of intimate union
1 See the Photographic Journal, vol. iv., p. 83, where this subject is treated at considerable length.
2 On the subject of photographic portraiture, we would refer the reader to a clever article in the Art-Journal, No. xlv., p. Zto.
3 An improved camera on this principle, by Mr Kinnear, is described in the Phot. Jour., vol. iv., pp. 116, 165.
4 Phot. Jour., vol. v., p. 98, Dec. 11, 1858.
6 This camera may be a very common one, with a small single lens, and may be constructed at a small expense.
Water 1 qt.
Gum-arabic  4 oz.
P H O
with the stone, while at the same time it is rendered capable of be¬
coming fixed or insoluble by the action of light. When this film is
submitted to the action of a solution of soap, the parts acted upon
by light are not injuriously affected by it, and an insoluble soap is
formed on the stone to produce the printing surface. The exciting
solution is
Sugar or molasses 160 gr.
Bichromate of potash 160 gr.
The sugar retards the immediate fixing of the gum upon the stone,
and the chromic salt causes it to be more firmly fixed, or to be less
soluble when exposed to light. When the film is dried, it may be
exposed in the camera, or placed under a negative.
In the first of these processes the blacks >re produced by the
parts on which the light has acted; and on the second by those upon
which it has not acted. (D> B-)
PH OTOMETER (from <£ws, light, and /xerpov, a measure)
is the name of an instrument for measuring the intensity of
light, whether it pro¬
ceeds from a luminous
body, or is reflected or
refracted at different
angles from opaque or
transparent bodies. In
our article on Optics,1
we have referred to the
photometrical research¬
es of Bouguer and Lam¬
bert, whose methods of £
comparing different de¬
grees of illumination we
shall now explain.
In order to measure the
light reflected from a mir¬
ror B, Bouguer placed the
light P between two sur¬
faces of paper D, E, equally
white and parallel to each
other. He then placed his eye at A, so that he could see at the
same time the paper E directly, and the image of the paper D re¬
flected from the mirror B. When the direct and reflected images
were brought into contact, the light P was moved along the line ED,
so as to throw more or less light upon E and D, till their degree of
illumination appeared perfectly equal. The light of E seen directly
from A is then to the light reflected from B as EP2 is to DP2.
The method used by Lambert is shown in the annexed figure.
Upon a plane white surface
ABCD draw a line ILK, uni¬
formly black; place a plate of
glass EFGH at right angles to
the white surface, so that the
angle HLK is a few degrees
less than a right angle. When
the white surface ABCD is
equally illuminated, the ob-
ser\ er at 0 views the part IL
projected into LQ, and the
anterior part KL, seen by re¬
flection at PL ; and when he
finds the position of the eye at 0 when the lines LQ and LP are
of equal paleness, he measures the angle of incidence. In one ex¬
periment he found this angle 75J degrees; and supposing the glass
to be perfectly pellucid, he concluded that at that angle the quan¬
tity of reflected light was exactly equal to the quantity of trans¬
mitted light.2
Fig 1.
Fig. 4-
Fig. 3.
P H O
The method of equal shadows given by Count Rumford is
shown in fig. 3, w’here L, L are the two lights to be compared, S an
opaque cylindrical rod, and CD a screen of white paper. The
lio-hts are then placed at such distances from S that the shadows
A, B are equally dark. In this case the squares of the distances of
the shadow's from the lights, that is LB2, LA2, are a measure of the
relative intensities of the light. The rays LB, LA must be equally
inclined to the surface of the screen.3
The ingenious photometer of the late Mr William Ritchie,
founded upon Bouguer’s method, is
shown in fig. 4, where ABCD is a sec¬
tion of a rectangular box, CF, DF the
plane mirrors cut from the same plate,
EG a rectangular opening covered with
oiled or fine paper, and F a small divi¬
sion of blackened card to prevent the
lights mingling with each other. The
lights to be compared are then placed in the same straight line
parallel to AB or CD, and equidistant from them, at the distance
of 6 feet from each other, and the box is moved along this line till
EF, GF are equally bright. The illuminating powers of the lights
will be directly as the squares of their distance from the centre of
the photometer.4 _
The photometer of Sir John Leslie,6 which was merely his differ¬
ential thermometer with one of its balls blackened, exhibited the
difference of temperature of the two balls, and was not a measurer
of light. Mr Ritchie invented a photometer having some resem¬
blance to it, but differing essentially in principle. It is shown in
fig. 5, the lower part of w'hich is a differential thermometer, sur¬
rounded by two air-tight cylinders of tin
ABCD, EFGH, composed of two plates of fine
and thick glass AB, FG, and two circular tin
plates CD, EH, the dotted line representing
circular pieces of black bibulous paper. The
light of one flame enters the glass plate AB, and
the other FG. The heat is assumed to be ab¬
sorbed by the thick glass, and the light is ab¬
sorbed by the bibulous paper and converted into
heat, the amount of which is shown on the dif¬
ferential thermometer. When each branch of
the thermometer is at zero, showing that the
light converted into heat is equal on the two
cylinders, then the intensities of the lights are
directly as the squares of their distances from
the instrument.6
The photometer used by Professor Potter for
measuring the light reflected at different angles
by plane metallic specula,will be found in Brew¬
ster’s Journal of Science, October 1830, vol. iii.,
new series, p. 284.
A photometer, in which a variable light is
produced by rotation, has been long ago pro¬
posed by Sir David Brewster. An opaque or
a semi-transparent arm, ground glass for ex¬
ample, having its breadth decreasing to a point
as it recedes from the centre of rotation, is made
to revolve in front of a uniformly illuminated
white surface, so as to produce every degree of illumination from
absolute darkness to the light of the surface. Any law of variation
may be obtained by the form of the sides of the revolving arm
being either rectilineal, curvilineal, or in steps, and by the angular
distance between their extreme points. All light less bright than
the surface may thus be measured by comparison with the reduced
light at a distance from the centre of rotation. The same principle
may be applied by reducing to equality with the other the brightest
of two unequal lights received on a white surface by looking
through the slits of a revolving disc.
Photometers have been constructed by viewing through a bino¬
cular instrument differently illuminated surfaces, and reducing
them to an equality by different circular apertures applied to each
eye. A photometer of this kind has been described by M. Doppler,7
and’ another has been recently proposed by Mr Mungo Ponton.8
Many objections, both physiological and optical, may be urged
against the accuracy of such instruments.
°The transition of a polarized ray from evanescence to light of a
given intensity, and the determination of the law of variation by
Malus, must have suggested to every person familiar with that
class of phenomena the construction of a photometer.9 (d. b.)
555
Photo¬
meter.
Fig. 5-
1 Vol. xvi., p. 335.
4 Edin. Trans., vol. x., p. 443.
6 Fhd. Trans., 1825, p. 141.
8 Edin. Trans. 1855-b, voi. xxi., p.
2 Photometria, part ii., c. i.,
6 See Brewster’s Journal of
K3.
p_ 150, * 3 Phil. Trans., 1794, p. 67.
Science, April 1825, vol. ii., pp. 321, 339 ; and vol. iii., p. 105.
7 Moigno’s Repertoire d’Optique, &c., partie iv., p. 1752.
9 See Optics, vol. xvi., part vii., § 1, pp. 633, 634.
556
P H R
Phrase PHRASE, in Music, signifies a passage of melody or of
|| harmony which contains a musical idea more or less com-
Phrenology piete in respect of cadence. A melodic phrase may con-
sist of two or three sounds only, rhythmically disposed,
but generally consists of more. It may begin on an ac¬
cented or an unaccented part of the measure, and end on
either. A compound phrase consists of two or more simple
phrases symmetrically disposed, so that the whole may pre¬
sent a regular ordonnance, and a satisfactory balancing of
its component parts. Several of such phrases joined to¬
gether form a period, and the most regular period consists
of four symmetrical phrases or numbers. As there are
various kinds of phrases, some vague and some symmetri¬
cal, so there are various kinds of periods. A melodic
phrase may occupy one measure, or even less; or it may
P H R
extend over two, three, or even more; and may either be Phrasing
confined to the key in which it began, or may modulate II
into another. The well-known air by Galuppi—adapted to Phrenology
the English words, “ Taste life’s glad moments”—offers, in ''—V-*-'
its first eight measures, an example of four phrases, each of
two measures, symmetrically arranged, and confined to one
key. A harmonic phrase consists of a succession of chords
forming a more or less determinate cadence ; and may be
prolonged by introducing dissonances, so as to avoid the
perfect cadence. (See Music, § Melody.) (g. f. g.)
PHRASING, in Music, applies to the executant of a
piece of music, and signifies the presentment of each phrase
or period with elegance and propriety, and the adorning of
it with such accents and graces as are suitable to its character,
and are calculated to give it the best effect. (g. f. g.)
PHRENOLOGY.
Phrenology, a term derived from mind, and Aoyos,
discourse, designates a science which professes to be a
philosophy of the human mind founded on the physiology
of the brain. It was first offered to public consideration
on the continent of Europe in 1796 by Dr Gall, a German
physician. (See Gall.} In Britain, it attracted little
attention until 1815. It has met with strenuous support
and determined opposition during the last half century, and
its claims as an established science are still subjudice.
Phrenology claims preference over all other systems as
a professedly practical science of mind. Starting from its
fundamental principle, that the brain is the essential organ
of the mental powers, it attempts to show in what respects,
and by what methods, the mental nature of man can be de¬
veloped, and his material and moral welfare advanced. In
other words, it systematically applies our knowledge of the
anatomy, physiology, and pathology of the brain to educa¬
tion, legislation, religion, morals, the fine arts, and the
science and art of medicine.
The principles of phrenology are as follows:—1. Phre¬
nology maintains that the mind and the body are inseparable
in tins world, and cannot be investigated apart from each
other. It is man as a “ concrete Ego,” and not as an im¬
material Ego, that it examines. This principle is contro¬
verted by the doctrine of “ spirits,” and the views of specu¬
lative theologians and metaphysicians, but it is evidently in
concurrence with the daily practice and common sense of
mankind. 2. The brain is the immediate organ of the
mind ; or, in other words, all the modifications of our con¬
sciousness, known as feeling, thought, and will, take place
within that portion of the body contained within the skull,
i.e., the encephalon or cerebral organs. This is a doctrine
founded also on the common sense of mankind, and ad¬
mitted by a preponderating majority of philosophers and
physiologists. 3. The brain is a double organ, one-half of
which may act independently of the other. That is to
say, just as we can see with one eye, hear with one ear, or
see or hear differently with the two organs, so the one-
half of the brain may act independently of, or differently
from, the other half. This principle is now admitted by
the best modern writers, as it was by the most distin¬
guished of the ancients. Nevertheless, as in seeing and
hearing, the two organs of the senses usually act consen¬
taneously, so in thought and will the two mental organs,
or cerebral hemispheres and their connections, commonly
act consentaneously. 4. Phrenology affirms that there are
separate and distinct mental faculties, and that each has its
corresponding seat or organ in each of the cerebral hemi¬
spheres ; in other words, although consciousness is one, its
modes of manifestation are diverse, according to the de¬
velopment of certain corresponding portions of the cere¬
brum. There is an exception to this principle in the love
of the sexes, which has only one organ, and that the cere¬
bellum.' This principle has been much controverted, on
grounds which we will shortly examine. 5. It is further
maintained that power of mind is, cceteris paribus, depen¬
dent upon size or development of the cerebral hemispheres;
and since what is true of the whole must be true of the
parts, it follows that the power of particular facul ties is also,
cceteris paribus, dependent on the size ot special organs.
This doctrine has also been much controverted.
Phrenologists have founded upon these principles . 1. A
system of psychology, in which the nature, mode of ac¬
tion, sphere of operation, and relations of distinct mental
faculties, are set forth. 2. A system of physiognomy,
founded upon (a) the form of the skull, as determined by
the size and form of the cerebral hemispheres, or of par¬
ticular portions of them ; (6) upon the natural language of
the feelings and faculties, as displayed in the attitudes, &c.
3. A practical sociology, or the application of these systems
of psychology and physiognomy, in connection with the
fundamental principles of cerebral physiology, to the wel¬
fare of society and the ordinary business of life.
Organology of Phrenology.—We will notice some of
the most important of the phrenological principles, still
sub judice ; and first as to the Organology of Phrenology.
This doctrine is twofold in its nature, being psychological,
as it respects the arrangement of the modes of consciousness
into faculties; anatomical and physiological, as it respects
the assignment of a portion of the brain to each faculty.
The proofs adduced by the advocates of phrenology in
support of these doctrines are as follows:—
(a.) As to the psychological division into faculties and
the like. 1. It is an undisputed truth that varying mental
states characterise the different stages of man s develop¬
ment. Reasoning powers appear later than emotional
states; a child observes much sooner than he reflects; he
fears and loves before he venerates. 2. But it is not only
the individual man, at various stages of his life, that mani¬
fests various faculties. Man, when examined in the mass,
as in families, races, or nations, presents great varieties of
faculties, desires, sentiments, instincts. Metaphysicians do
but re-echo popular opinion when they arrange these vary¬
ing states of consciousness under such generic terms as the
instinctive, emotional, and intellectual faculties. Every
thoughtful father is anxious to discover whether his son
has congenitally or “ naturally” any predominant faculties,
modes, or powers of action, so that his course ot life may
be so shaped as to give scope to the free exercise of the
so-called “ talents” he possesses. It is within the expe¬
rience of every observing man that there are so-called
“ talented families,” one member of which excels perhaps
PHREN
Phrenology in mathematics, another in poetry, another in music, another
in painting, and so on. It was, in fact, this diversity of
character which first suggested to Gall to observe whether
there was any connection between it and diversity of ex¬
ternal form. Observing accordingly, he at last connected
these diversities of character with diversities of physiog¬
nomy, and at last was led to the idea that the variety
of faculties was connected with varieties in the form and
size of the cranium, and therefore with the form and size
of the brain. The observation of races of mankind led to
similar results. Thus the psychological observation of the
faculties preceded the physiognomical observation of the
organs. It follows, therefore, that the psychology of phre¬
nology is not dependent upon either the physiology or the
physiognomy of the science ; or, in other words, it may be
considered and applied as a distinct system of mental philo¬
sophy, independently of the latter.
It being determined by observation and induction that
there are distinct faculties, sentiments, propensities, and
the like, and it being also determined that the brain is the
organ of the mind in general, it remains to determine,
further, whether special portions of it are the seat or me¬
chanism of special faculties or propensities, the existence
of which is as necessary to the manifestation of those spe¬
cial mental states as the existence of the organ, as a whole,
is necessary to the manifestation of mind as a whole. The
following are the arguments adduced in favour of a mul¬
tiplicity of cerebral organs :—
1. It is noticeable, that in every organism there is a divi¬
sion of labour or function, with corresponding distinctness of
organ. “ In the economy of the human frame,” Mr Combe
remarks, “ there is no ascertained example of one nerve
performing two functions, such as feeling and communicat¬
ing motion, or seeing and hearing, or tasting and smelling.
The spinal marrow consists of three double columns; the
anterior column of each lateral division is for motion; the
posterior for sensation ; the middle for respiration or at
least their functions are different, however physiologists may
vary in opinion as to the nature or character of those func¬
tions. In like manner as to the general functions of the
organism. Each function has an organ for itself; the sto¬
mach, for instance, digests food, the liver secretes bile, the
heart propels the blood, the eyes see, the ears, hear, the
tongue tastes, and the nose smells.1 This is the argument
founded on differentiation of structure and function, and is
by no means so forcibly put by phrenological writers as it
might be. 2. We have seen that the various mental powers
of man are manifested in succession from childhood to
adult life. And concurrently with this order of manifesta¬
tion there is an order of development of the component
parts of the brain. In childhood, for example, the middle
part of the forehead generally predominates ; in later life,
the upper and lateral parts become more prominent,—
changes in strict accordance with the consecutive order of
evolution of the observing and reasoning faculties. 3.
r Genius is almost always partial; which it ought not to be
if there were no partial development of the organ, and if
the whole brain were the seat of all and every faculty ; in
that case every faculty would be equally manifested, and
none would be above another in power. 4. The pheno¬
mena of dreaming, insanity, and idiotcy are equally at
variance with the theory of singleness of the organ of mind,
but quite consistent with the theory of its plurality.
Were the organ single, it is clear that all the faculties
should be asleep or awake at the same time, and to the same
extent; or, in other words, there could be no such thing
as dreaming. But that change of the functional activity
0 L O G Y. 557
of the brain which constitutes sleep being only partial in Phrenology
its intensity, or in the extent to which it involves the brain,
those portions which are less affected are partially active, so
that partial manifestations of the consciousness take place
which in an infinite variety constitute dreaming. Again,
in partial idiotcy, whilst some faculties are manifested to a
singular extent, others are absolutely deficient. Concur¬
rently with this partial development of the intellect there
is a partial development of the cerebrum. But, indepen¬
dently of the observed phenomena, it is a just d, priori in¬
ference, that if the brain were a single organ, there would
not be this remarkable absence of some mental powers with
the presence of others. Not dissimilar are the conclusions
to be drawn from the phenomena of mental disease, oc¬
curring in persons with ordinary development of the body
and mind. Just as in idiotcy and dreaming, so in mono¬
mania there is a morbid manifestation of special mental
states. Now, the same argument, a priori, applies here as
in the other instances; and it is inferred that there is a
special disease of a portion of the brain upon which the
special morbid manifestation depends. Partial injuries
of the brain, and their accompanying phenomena, come
under this category of disease, but are more demonstrative
of the general principle.
All these phenomena are of daily occurrence, and the con¬
clusions to which they point have been forced upon the atten¬
tion of philosophers and physiologists from Aristotle and
Galen downwards. The Aristotelian philosophy arranged the
faculties under three heads, namely, the judgment, imagina¬
tion, and memory. In the thirteenth century, Albertus Mag¬
nus divided the cranium phrenologically into three regions,
so as to correspond to this arrangement: the anterior portion
was allotted to the judgment or intellect, the middle to the
imagination, the posterior to the memory. Petrus Mon-
tagnana published a similar chart in 1491.2 Mr Combe
figures in his “System”3 a more elaborate craniological chart
of this kind, published in 1562, at Venice, by Ludovico
Dolce, in a work upon strengthening and refreshing the
memory. In the second volume of the Phrenological
Journal, drawings of human and comparative physiognomy
are given from a work by John Baptista Porta (1596),
entitled De Humana Physiognomia.
Modern anatomists and physiologists in general, from
Willis downwards, have asserted the principle of multi¬
plicity of cerebral structures as organs of mental powers, or
seats of mental states. Willis made careful dissections of
the brain, with a view to determine the seat of the various
faculties, or, in his own words, the particular “canals” or
“ passages” through which the “animal spirits”pass when
various mental states are induced or manifested. His dis¬
sections and engravings of the brain are interesting even
now; for in some respects he taught doctrines similar to,
and even in advance of, those of modern physiologists.
He made the corpora striata the seat of consciousness, in
connection with doctrines as to diversity of function of
other portions of the encephalon. “ As to the offices and
uses of the corpora striata, though we can discern nothing
with our eyes, or handle with our hands, of those things that
are done within the secret conclave or closet of the brain,
yet by the effects, and by comparing rationally the faculties
and acts with the workmanship of the machine, we may at least
conjecture what sort of works of the animal function are
performed in these or those, or within some other parts of
the head; especially because it plainly appears that the
offices of the interior motions and senses, as well as of the
exterior, are acted by the help of the animal spirits ordained
within certain and distinct paths, or as it were small little
1 Syttem of Phrenology, 5th ed„ p. 24.
3 Vol. i., p. 33.
GalL Sur les Fonctions du Cerveau, 8vo, Paris, 1822-1825, vol. ii., pp. 354, 355.
558
PHRENOLOGY.
Phrenology pipes.”1 Willis’s researches were instituted in relation to
V—^ the current theory of the animal spirits (subsequently re¬
placed by the vis nervosa and “ nervous fluid”), as tbe effi¬
cient agents of sensation, motion, and thought, and which
were generated in the brain. This was the doctrine ot
Galen, and held its ground until the commencement ot
the eighteenth century. In accordance with this theory,
the Arabian writers, following Galen, fixed upon the ven¬
tricles of the brain as the special seat of the mental faculties ;
one of the anterior ventricles they made the seat of com¬
mon sensation; the other of the imaginative faculty; the
third ventricle was the seat of understanding, and the fourth
of memory. These doctrines were also maintained by
Duns Scotus, Thomas Aquinas, and other philosophers as
late as Descartes ; Caspar Bauhin was the first to ^ques¬
tion them, and to maintain that the “animal spirits were
generated in the substance of the brain and distributecl
directly from thence through the nerves to the organs of
sensation and motion. Plater, Varol, Spigel, Caspar Ho -
mann, and others, also opposed the ventricular theory ot
localization, especially the last mentioned, and who in con¬
sequence drew down upon him the anathemas of those
who supported the ancient theories. He was particularly
charged by Riolan the younger with ignorance, and with
unsettling, by his new dogma, both the entire pathology anti
therapeutics of the brain ; for he actually had the temerity
to fix the seat of epilepsy and apoplexy in the substance
of the brain, and not in the ventricles, as Galen taught.
“And this is the argument,” Prochaska remarks (from
whom we have taken the preceding facts), “ with which
physicians are accustomed to meet new dogmas when
opposed to their own, even if true; lest they should be
compelled by shame to unlearn, when old, those theories
which they have learnt in youth. Harvey was met with
almost a similar argument, and considered as an audacious
man.”2 „ • j r ..n
It was after the “animal spirits were ejected from the
ventricles that Malpighi, Sylvius, and Willis attempted to
show that they were secreted by the cortical substance,
whence they were received by the medullary substance, to
be transmitted by it to the nerves of the whole body. lo
these, therefore, is due, and of these more especially to
Willis, the first indication of the established doctrine of
modern physiology, and which Gall and Spurzheim more
fully developed—namely, that the cortical part of the brain,
or the cineritious neurine, is ganglionic, or the seat of ac^ora
or energy ; and that the medullary or fibrous is a conducting
structure, analogous to the trunks of the nerves. Willis
retained some of the other Galenical doctrines; but he
peculiarly advocated that the cerebrum subserves to the
animal functions and the voluntary motions, the cerebel¬
lum to the involuntary ; that a perception of all the sensa¬
tions takes place in the ascending fibres of the corpora
striata, and that through the descending fibres voluntary
movements are excited ; that the understanding and ima¬
gination have their seat in the corpus callosum, and the
memory in the convolutions, which are its “ storehouses.
A host of physiologists supported or opposed the doc¬
trines of Willis; but amidst the innumerable controver¬
sies which arose, the doctrine of mental organology, or of
cerebral differentiation of structure, with specialization ot
function, continually advanced. In 1784 Prochaska sum-
marized the views of previous inquirers generally, and in-
dicated the advance which the doctrine had reached at this
period, when Gall began his researches and teaching. I he
3d section of the 5th chapter of Prochaska’s Dissertation
(1784) is headed, “ Do each of the divisions of the intel- Phrenology
lect occupy a separate portion of the brain ?” In answer to
this proposed problem, Prochaska proceeds thus. It is
our consciousness, and a certain peculiar feeling, which con¬
vinces every one that he thinks with his brain. But since
the brain as well as the cerebellum is composed of many
parts variously figured, it is probable that natuie, which
never works in vain, has destined those parts to various
uses, so that the various faculties of mind seem to require
different portions of the cerebrum and cerebellum for their
production. Since, however, the sensorium commune re¬
flects the sensorial impressions into motor by definite
laws peculiar to itself, and independently of consciousness,
and since we have laid down that the sensorium commune
comprises the medulla oblongata, medulla spinalis, and the
origin of all the nerves, it follows that the cerebrum and
cerebellum, together with their connections, the sensorium
commune excepted, constitute the organs of the faculty of
thought; and as in some animals these are entirely want¬
ing it is fair to conjecture that the faculty of thought is
also wanting, and that they exist solely in virtue of the
vis nervosa of the sensorium commune, and of the nerves
with which they are endowed.”3 Prochaska thus eliminated
the hemispheres with the corpus callosum and cerebellum
from those portions of the encephalon which he allotted to
the sensorium,—namely, the ganglionic origins of the cere¬
bral nerves, the crura, the medulla oblongata, me¬
dulla spinalis,—and constituted them the organs of mmd.
This was the state of knowledge when Gall first at¬
tempted to allocate portions of the hemispheres to special
faculties. But in doing this both Gall and Spurzheim
limited the term medulla oblongata to that portion of the
central axis which extends from the lower border of the pons
Varolii to the occipital foramen, and thus deviated from
the anatomical definitions of their predecessors,—for Pro¬
chaska was not alone in his doctrines. Long previously W illis
had stated, “ where the corpus callosum is thought to end,
there the medulla oblongata begins,” and he anatomica y
describes it accordingly. All the successors of Willis used
the term medulla oblongata more or less in a similar sense.
Hence the older writers marked three great divisions °* f*16
encephalon—the cerebrum, brain, or hemispheres, including
their commissure, the corpus callosum i the ceiebellum or
little brain, with its crura, and the head of the spinal co¬
lumn ; and the medulla oblongata or oblong medulla, includ-
ino- from the corpora striata downward. 4 he medulla
spinalis and oblongata were also termed the cerebrum pro-
longatum, the prolonged brain,—the theory being, that this
portion of the central axis arose, or was prolonged from, the
cerebrum. Now the medulla oblongata, thus defined, was
considered to be the point of origin of the encephalic nerves,
and (through its continuation into the spinal cord) of all the
nerves of the body. In this way it came to be consideie
the seat of sensation (the sensorium commune, the common
centre of consciousness), or point of union between the
sensory nerves on the one side, and the hemispheres on
the other. This doctrine disappeared almost wholly with
the advance of Gall’s views, and the ganglia constituting
that portion of the medulla oblongata situated above the
pons Varolii were considered to be part of the brain or cere¬
brum. It is only within the last few years that Dr Carpenter
has revived it as a new theory, giving the name “ sensory
ganglia” to these structures, instead of sensorium commune.
With this explanation, we can better understand Pro¬
chaska’s conclusions as to a plurality of organs of the mental
faculties.4 When he proceeds to discuss the question, after
i Two Discourses concerning the Soul of jirutes, which is that of the Vital and Sensitive of Man by Thomas Willis, Doctor in Physick,
Professor of Natural Philosophy in Oxford, &c.; Englished by S. Pordage,S u en in lysici, o , p. - . prri(.Viaska • trans-
^ The Principles of Physiology, by J. A. Unzer, and a Dissertation on the Functions of the Nervous System, by George Prochaska, trans
lated and edited for the Sydenham Society by Thomas Laycock, M.D., &c., &c., 1851, p. 371.
3 Op. citato, p. 446. 4 lVld- loc‘ citat0'
PHKENOLOGY.
559
Phrenology alluding to the obscurity of the subject, and remarking that
he is of opinion with Haller, that “ careful dissections of the
brains of fatuous persons, apoplectics, and such as have other
disorders of the understanding,” are the only means of
throwing light upon it; and after advancing various argu¬
ments in support of the doctrine of organology, he adds,
“ It is therefore by no means improbable that each division
of the intellect has its allotted organ in the brain [or hemi¬
spheres], so that there is one for the perceptions, another
for the understanding, probably others also for the will, and
imagination, and memory, which act wonderfully in con¬
cert, and materially excite each other to action. 1 he organ
of the imagination, however, amongst the rest, will be
far apart, I should think, from the organ of perceptions,
since the organ of perceptions being asleep and at rest, the
organ of the imagination may be in action, a condition
which produces dreams an argument identical, as we have
seen, with that brought forward in support of the doctrine
by modern phrenologists. It thus appears, therefore, that
when Gall promulgated his views, the doctrine of plurality
of mental organs was one which had been universally ad¬
mitted since the time of Galen. The only questions that
arose were as to the portions of the encephalon to be al¬
lotted to each: theologians, philosophers, schoolmen, phy¬
sicians, anatomists, physiologists, all adopted without ques¬
tion the general principle. Mr Combe is completely justi¬
fied, therefore, in his conclusion, “ that the presumptions
are all in favour of a plurality of mental faculties manifest¬
ing themselves by a plurality of organs.”1 Modern physio¬
logists have, however, objected to these doctrines. Dr
Carpenter, for example, says that it “ seems to be a funda¬
mental error to suppose that the entire intellect ca-nbe split-up
into a certain number of faculties; for each faculty that is
distinguished by the psychologist expresses nothing else than
a mode of activity, in which the whole power of the mind
may be engaged at once,—just as the whole power of the
locomotive steam-engine may be employed in carrying it
forwards or backwards, according to the direction given to
its action. And if this be true, it must be equally erroneous
to attempt to parcel out the cerebrum [meaning the hemis¬
pheres] into distinct ‘ organs’ for these respective faculties ;
the whole of it (so far as we [Dr Carpenter] can form a judg¬
ment), being called into operation in every kind of intellectual
process which occupies the attention at the time.”2 The ana¬
logy drawn between the human mind and a steam-engine is
rather too wide to help in the elucidation of an argument, and
need not be examined, the more especially because Dr Car¬
penter really elsewhere expresses other and sounder views
on this point. After noting the correspondence between the
development of the brain, and the manifestations of intelli¬
gence in lower animals, and specially the “very decided evi¬
dence furnished by the great enlargement of the cerebrum
[the hemispheres], and the corresponding alteration in the
form of the cranium, which present themselves in those
races of dogs most distinguished for their educability,” Dr
Carpenter adds, “ This general inference, drawn from com¬
parative anatomy, is borne out by observation of the human
species. When the cerebrum [cerebral hemispheres] is
fully developed, it offers innumerable diversities of form
and size among various individuals ; and there are as many
diversities of character. It may be doubted if two indivi¬
duals were ever exactly alike in this respect.”3 We have
placed within brackets an interpolation of the meaning of
the word cerebrum in accordance with one of the senses
in which it is used by the writer. Dr Carpenter evidently
means to say (in common with the best of modern neurolo¬
gists), that the hemispheres of the brain of man and the higher
animals present as many diversities in form and size as there Phrenology
are diversities of individual character. Now, the phreno-
legists say no more, except that they have carefully ob¬
served, and to a certain extent determined by observation,
the relations which these diversities in the form and size
of the hemispheres bear to the diversities in the characters
of individuals. We may add, that one of the most dis¬
tinguished of living physiological psychologists fully ad¬
mits the phrenological doctrine of plurality of faculties and
organs, although he is by no means in favour of phrenology
generally. “ The phrenologists rightly regard it as pro¬
bable,” Sir H. Holland remarks, “ or even as proved, that
there is a certain plurality of parts in the total structure of
the brain corresponding to, and having connection with,
the different intellectual and moral faculties. The un¬
doubted natural diversity of these faculties makes this pro¬
bable, seeing that we must regard a certain organization as
ministering in the present life even to the higher powers
of our nature. The partial and varying effects of accident,
disease, or other less obvious change in the brain, in pro¬
ducing derangement of the mental functions, furnish more
direct evidence, and such as we cannot refuse to admit.” 4
On the side of modern psychology, we have equally
strong testimony. Mr Herbert Spencer, one of the most
profound thinkers of the day, remarks,—“ No physiologist
who calmly considers the question in connection with the
general truths of this science can long resist the conviction
that different parts of the cerebrum subserve different kinds
of mental action. Localization of function is the law of all
organization whatever ; separateness of duty is universally
accompanied with separateness of structure ; and it would
be marvellous were an exception to exist in the cerebral
hemispheres. Let it be granted that the cerebral hemi¬
spheres are the seat of the higher psychical activities ; let
it be granted that among those higher psychical activities
there are distinctions of kind, which, though not definite,
are yet practically recognisable ; and it cannot be denied,
without going in direct opposition to established physio¬
logical principles, that these more or less distinct kinds of
psychical activity must be carried on in more or less distinct
parts of the cerebral hemispheres. To question this, is not
only to ignore the truths of physiology as a whole, but
especially those of the physiology of the nervous system.” 5
Mr Spencer further adds,—“ either there is some arrange¬
ment, some organization in the cerebrum, or there is none.
If there is no organization, the cerebrum is a chaotic mass
of fibres incapable of performing any orderly action. If
there is some organization, it must consist in that same
physiological division of labour in which all organization
consists; and there is no division of labour, physiological
or other, of which we have any example, or can form any
conception, but what involves the concentration of special
kinds of activity in special places.”
Now, although phrenology thus rightly connects those
operations of the mind, or states of consciousness which are
intellectual in their nature, with special centres of activity
situate in the hemispheres, is it equally correct in placing
the mere propensities or instincts, i.e., when devoid of ideas,
exclusively in the same category ? We think not, for it has
been clearly shown, from arguments founded on the com¬
parative anatomy and pathology of the encephalic struc¬
tures, that this portion of the phrenological organology is
very doubtful, and more particularly as to the seat of the
sexual instinct, although we are not at all clear that doc¬
trines like those of Dr Carpenter (certainly not new) are
more valid.6 Just as Gall and Spurzheim used the term
medulla oblongata in a more limited sense than preceding
1 System of Phrenology, 5th ed., vol. i., p. 33.
3 Op. citato, p. 541-2.
6 Principles of Psychology, 1855, p. 607.
2 Human Physiology, 5th ed., pp. 598—9.
4 Chapters on Mental Physiology, 8vo, 1855, chap. ix.
6 Principles of Comparative Physiology, 4th edition, p. 692-703.
560
PHRENOLOGY.
Phrenology anatomists, and thereby gave rise to discrepancies of
opinion and to novelties of doctrine more apparent than
real; so, it is to be feared, will be the case with Dr Carpen¬
ter’s peculiar and varying use of the terms “ cerebruni and
“ brain,” to which we have previously referred. It we
must have a change in terms, the philosophical nomencla¬
ture of Professor Owen or Lamarck is the most in accord¬
ance with the laws of development of the encephalic
structures. Lamarck termed the hemispheres the hypoce-
phalon, and the ganglionic structures below them the ce-
phalon or brain proper, inasmuch as these are to be lO'inh
in all vertebrate animals, and are essential structures, wnde
in man and others the hemispheres are only superadded
or superimposed structures.1 A classification of the con¬
volutions, first begun by Gall, and carried out by ms
disciples, has been attempted by some of the most dis¬
tinguished physiologists of the day,—viz., MM. Foville,
Leuret, and Owen. It is very probable that a more phi¬
losophical application to phrenology of recent discoveries
in comparative neurology will ultimately force on a mo¬
dification of its organology as to the mere instincts. In
especial, the doctrines of Willis on this point will perhaps
have renewed attention and development given to them.
When the phrenologist takes a larger grasp of this part of
his system, and brings more comprehensive methods of
psychological analysis and of physiological research to bear
upon it, he will be better able to reconcile conflicting facts
and conclusions. In particular, it will probably be found
that the instincts and propensities have a two-fold relation to
the organism, so that when manifested in connection with
higher psychical states (as they almost always are in man),
they are in relation with changes both in their own special
or primary seats (the brain proper), and in the superadded
structures (the hemispherical convolutions) the seat of the
higher psychical faculties. Perhaps it will some day be
proved that the several layers of gray and white matter
which make up the hemispherical ganglia have themselves
distinct functions, as ganglionic and conducting tissues.
It is generally admitted that Baillarger’s arrangement of
six layers,—namely, three gray and three white—is well
founded, while Baillarger himself is inclined to adopt the
views of Foville and Gratiolet, who have shown that there
is a seventh layer, one of white or conducting matter, ac¬
companying the innermost layer of gray matter throughout
its whole extent.2 We might add more on this head, but
it is obvious enough already that much has yet to be done
before mental organology can be placed on a satisfactory
foundation.
The Dynamics of Phrenology.—The neurological ana¬
tomy generally of phrenology does not differ in any essen¬
tial respects from the doctrines of neurologists generally, or
at least more than these differ from each other. Having in¬
dicated the special points of difference, we need only refer to
Mr Solly’s valuable work on The Human Brain as an admitted
text-book of phrenologists in other respects. We now pro¬
ceed to examine the dynamics or cerebral physiology of phre¬
nology. It is a fundamental principle that power of mind is,
cceteris paribus, dependent upon size or development of the
cerebral hemispheres ; and since what is true of the whole
must be true of the parts, it follows that the power of special
faculties is also, cceteris paribus, dependent on the size of
special organs, i.e., portions of the hemispheres. No prin¬
ciple of phrenology has been more controverted than this, yet
it is one upon which there is a singular unanimity amongst
all classes of observers, whether popular, psychological, or
physiological. A talented modern metaphysician remarks,
in summary of the teachings of all the most distinguished Phrenology
physiologists,—“ There is an indisputable connection be- ^
tween size of brain and the mental energy displayed by the
individual man or animal. It cannot be maintained that
size is the only circumstance that determines the amount
of mental force ; quality is as important as quantity, whether
in nerve, muscle, or any other portion of the animal struc¬
ture. Biit just as largeness of muscle gives greater strength
of body as a general rule, so largeness of brain gives greater
vigour of mental impulse.”3 This, the doctrine, we repeat,
of all the best physiologists, is none other than the doctrine
of all the phrenologists. Yet, when enunciated by them, it
has usually been treated with derision, or if seriously con¬
troverted, controverted most usually on false premises, or
on a false statement of the doctrine,—as, for example, that
phrenology teaches that size corresponds absolutely to mani¬
festation. But those physiologists, strange to say, who con¬
trovert the doctrines when applied by phrenologists to the
hemispheres, adopt it themselves when they wish jto demon¬
strate the functions of other portions of the encephalon. It
is particularly from the facts of comparative anatomy that
evidence can be deduced as to the functions of the compli¬
cated encephalon of man ; and it is upon these, with especial
reference to size or extent of organic development in lower
animals in relation with manifestation, that the latest views
as to the functions of the cerebellum and of the cerebral
ganglia are founded. Now, the method of research appli¬
cable to various portions of the encephalon generally is
equally applicable to the various portions of the hemispheres.
If size of portions of the encephalon, taken in correspond¬
ence with energy of psychical manifestation, indicates in
lower animals the functions of those portions of the encepha¬
lon, surely the size of portions of the hemispheres, taken in
correspondence with energy of mental manifestation, indi¬
cates the functions of those portions, and proves the law
ot energy = size. Hence it must be conceded to the phre¬
nologists that the law, within the limits and under the con¬
ditions laid down, is founded on both facts and general
principles.
Laics of Action of the Brain as the Organ of Mind.—
The phrenologists do not differ from neurologists in general
as to the laws and modes of action of the nervous system,
except in so far as they differ on points of anatomy or or¬
ganology. Gall and Spurzheim had the duty of combating
errors as well as of developing truths. In this particular they
were of great service to neurology, inasmuch as by uproot¬
ing errors they cleared the ground for the more accurate
views of the functions of the nervous system recently pro¬
mulgated. It is certain, however, that being so fully occu¬
pied with their new views as to the anatomy and organology
of the encephalon, they neglected any deep inquiries into its
laws of functional activity, and in particular omitted to
apply the general laws of nervous action, first lucidly deve¬
loped by Unzer, then summarized and extended by Pro-
chaska, and in more recent times resuscitated, and very
ably applied by Marshall Hall to the pathology of the
medulla spinalis and encephalon, as far as the tubercula
quadrigemina. The early cultivators of phrenology, how¬
ever, taught the important general doctrine, that the modes
of action of the organs are instinctive in their nature.
In September 1844 Dr Laycock read a paper before the
British Association for the Advancement of Science, in
which he showed that the laws of reflex action were not
limited to the sensorium commune, as held by Prochaska,
nor to the spinal system as Dr Marshall Hall then taught,
but were the laws of action of the instincts and of every por-
1 Philosophic Zoolog., tom. ii., p. 223. His words are, “ Or, cet hypocephale est I’organe special dans lequel se f
les actes de 1’intelligence ; et le cerveau proprement dit, cette partie de la masse mfidullaire principale que contie
i forment les idees et tous
proprement dit, cette partie de la masse mfedullaire principale que contient le centre de rapport
des nerfs, et a laquelle les nerfs des sens particulier viennent de reunir, ne sauroit lui seul donner lieu a de semblables phenomenes.”
2 Annales Med. Psycholog., tom. i,, 1855. 3 The Senses and the Intellect, by Alexander Bain, A.M., 1855, p. 11.
PHRENOLOGY.
561
Phrenology tioa of both the cerebro-spinal and sympathetic systems.1
Dr Laycock subsequently developed his doctrines so as to
demonstrate their application to the fundamental laws ot
consciousness and thought.2 In 1845 Mr Combe applied Dr
Laycock’s discoveries to an elucidation of the modes of ac¬
tion of the cerebral hemispheres, according to the phreno¬
logical doctrines, but more especially showing their capa¬
bility of explaining the production of the natural language of
the faculties, and the nature of the various forms of impul¬
sive insanity.3 Some years subsequently (1853) Dr Carpen¬
ter also adopted Dr Laycock’s views, and gave them a special
application to those various states which agree in the com¬
mon characteristic of mental activity without volitional
control, and which he designated by the unfortunate phre¬
nological4 * term of unconscious “ cerebration.Dr Carpenter
has, however, added to the doctrines the theories of Willis
and Lamarck as to the so-called “ sensory ganglia.” Later
psychological writers of great eminence have referred to Dr
Laycock’s views, and noted their value in explaining the laws
of cerebral action in mental operations. On the doctrines
thus put forward by Dr Laycock, Mr Morell remarks:—
“We certainly see in them the most complete co-ordination
established between psychology and physiology in the widest
extent.”6 Now, since the very foundation of phrenology is
mental organology, this exhaustive co-ordination between
physiology and psychology is of fundamental importance to
its further development; and that, whether we consider
phrenology as a new system of philosophy or of cerebral
physiology. This new field of mental dynamics the scien¬
tific phrenologist should therefore cultivate.
Phrenological Psychology and Physiognomy. — The
middle and close of the eighteenth century, until the out¬
break of the French Revolution, was a period remarkable
for the culture and development of neurology and physio¬
logical metaphysics. Stahl had given the latter a great
impulse by his revival of the Aristotelian doctrine of the
soul, and his application of it to the phenomena of healthy
and morbid action, and the treatment of disease. After the
promulgation of the Stahlian doctrines, neurological ana¬
tomy and physiology were widely cultivated, especially in
Germany. During the period named, Pfeffinger, Haase,
Lobstein, Metzger, Sommering, Meckel, Hirsch, Wris-
berg, Boehmer, Asch, Bang, Andersch, Murray, Bose,
Plainer, Brunn, Heineken, Behrends, Ludwig, Ebel, Isen-
flamm, Thaer, Ploucquet, Baur, Zinn, and others, investi¬
gated the anatomy, physiology, and pathology of the ner¬
vous system, some of whom have left their names con¬
nected with their discoveries.7 Very distinguished sys¬
tematic writers also flourished during this period, as Al¬
bums, Winslow, Vieussens, Haller, Bonnet, Unzer, Pro-
chaska, Vicq d’Azyr, and others. Gall pursued his medical
studies in the midst of all this struggle after a knowledge
of the anatomy and physiology of the nervous system, for,
being born in 1757, he would probably be at the univer¬
sity of Vienna about 1777. His first attempts at observa¬
tion were purely physiognomical. He found himself
excelled in powers of memory of words by fellow-students
and schoolmates who had prominent eyes. After much
reflection, he conceived that if a memory for words was
indicated by an external sign, the same might be the case
with the other intellectual powers; and thereafter all per¬
sons distinguished by any remarkable faculty became the
object of his attention. He thus became acquainted with
individuals remarkable for the determination of their cha- Phrenology
racter, and he observed a particular part of their heads to y***^rm*>
be very largely developed. This fact first suggested to
him the idea of looking to the head for signs of the dis¬
positions or affections. Gall at first therefore endeavoured
to establish a cranial physiognomy, and in this respect was
a follower of Lavater, then popular: it was only after a
more extended study that he was convinced of the need to
investigate the anatomy and physiology of the brain. “In
every instance,” says Mr Combe, “where an individual
whose head he had observed while alive happened to die,
he requested permission to examine the brain, and fre¬
quently was allowed to do so ; and he found, as a general
fact, that on removal of the skull, the brain, covered by the
dura mater, presented a form corresponding to that which
the skull had exhibited in life.” This general principle being
established, it necessarily followed that, if the mental cha¬
racter corresponded to a particular form of skull, or a pre¬
dominant faculty to a special development of a portion of
it, the character or the faculty was manifested in connec¬
tion with a particular development of the brain ; and the
solution of the problem put by philosophers and physiolo¬
gists, from Aristotle downwards, became possible. Thus,
by the method of observation and induction, Gall built up
his physiognomical system, which professes to supply the
elements for determining the mental character from the
form of the head. His psychology was perhaps the weak
point in his doctrines ; for he had to shake off the trammels
of the old philosophy in which he had been educated. This
led in particular to a less definite application of the conclu¬
sions to be drawn from pathological phenomena, as local dis¬
eases or injuries of the brain, and morbid developments of it
in idiots, imbeciles, the insane, and incorrigible criminals.
Psychological Arrangement of Phrenology.—Gall’s psy¬
chology, as well as his first physiognomical conclusions,
although founded upon researches continued through many
years, were subsequently modified to a great extent; in the
first instance by himself, on the acquisition of fresh data,
afterwards by his disciples, more especially Spurzheim. In¬
dividual phrenologists differ to the present day as to the
number of the faculties and the locality of the correspond¬
ing organs; and it is acknowledged by all that more re¬
main to be discovered. There are certain general prin¬
ciples, however, which appear to be settled. The term
faculty is used by them “ to denote a particular power of
feeling, thinking, or perceiving, connected with a particular
part of the brain.” (Combe.) “ A faculty is admitted as
primitive—1. Which exists in one kind of animal, and not
in another; 2. Which varies in the two sexes of the same
species: 3. Which is not proportionate to the other facul¬
ties of the same individual; 4. Which does not manifest
itself simultaneously with the other faculties, 'that is,
which appears or disappears earlier or later in life than
other faculties; 5. Which may act singly; 6. Which is
propagated in a distinct manner from parents to children ;
7. Which may singly preserve its proper state ot health
or disease.”8 Spurzheim largely modified Gall’s arrange¬
ment of the primitive faculties (which was almost wholly
empirical), and from time to time altered his own, until
finally, in 1825, he fixed upon the psychological arrange¬
ment now generally adopted by phrenologists of the present
day, although admittedly imperfect. He placed the fa¬
culties in two orders, corresponding to the feelings and the
1 See this essay, “ On the Reflex Functions of the Brain,” in Br. and For. Med. Review, fan. 1845, vol. xix., p. 298.
2 “ Further Researches into the Functions of the Brain,” Brit, and For. Med. Chirurg. Rev., 1855, vol. xvi., p. 155.
3 Elements of Phrenology, ed.,\2mo,\SA5. . OQ„ .
4 First used by Dr Engledue, and with disastrous results to phrenology. (Phrcn. Journ., vol. xv., p. Zvo, «c.J
6/fuman Pfe/sioZoyy, 4th ed., pp. 799-800, note, and 811, sqq. ^ , ,r ,r
6 “ On Modern English Psychology,” Brit, and For. Med. Chir. Review, vol. xvn., April 1856, p. 356. Compare also Mr Morell a Eh-
merits of Psychology, part i., p. 99. 7 Scriptores Neurologici Minores Selecti, &c., edidit Chris. Fred* Ludwigj tom. iv., Lipsia), 17c/* .
8 Spurzheim apud G. Combe, System of Phrenology, vol. i., p. 171.
VOL. XVII. ^ B
562
PHRENOLOGY.
Phrenology intellectual powers of metaphysicians in general, and termed
them the affective and the intellectual faculties. The feel¬
ings were arranged in two genera,—those of the propensi¬
ties and the sentiments. A propensity is an “ internal im¬
pulse,” which impels only to certain actions; in common
language, is an instinct. A sentiment is an internal impulse
or inclination to action, with an emotion superadded ; in
common language, an emotional instinct, emotion, or passion.
Acquisitiveness, for example (a propensity), is.the mere
impulse to acquire. Veneration (a sentiment) gives a ten¬
dency to worship, accompanied by a particular emotion,
which latter quality is the reason of its being denominated
a sentiment.1 * The intellectual faculties make us acquainted
with objects which exist, and their qualities and relations.
Spurzheim divided them into four genera: “ The tirst in¬
cludes the external senses and voluntary motion ; the
second, those internal powers which perceive existence, or
make man and animals acquainted with external objects and
their physical qualities; and the third, the powers which
perceive the relations of external objects. These three
genera are named perceptive faculties. I he fourth genus
comprises the faculties which act on all the other powers—
which compare, judge, and discriminate; these aie named
the reflective faculties? Complex faculties, sentiments,
and propensities arise out of combinations (in excess oi
defect) of the primitive. Veneration, Hope, and Wonder in
normal combination constitute the sentiment of religion ;
if in excess, of superstition. Large Acquisitiveness and Se-
cretiveness will constitute the propensity to steal, it
Conscientiousness and the reflecting faculties be defective ;
if these be large, they will constitute good elements in a
noble character. This psychological arrangement may be
considered as the basis of a system which is wholly inde¬
pendent of organology, or even ot cerebral physiology.
Considered as simply a system of metaphysical nomencla¬
ture, many are disposed to agree in opinion with Arch¬
bishop Whately, who thinks that, as such, it is “ far more
logical, accurate, and convenient, than those of Locke,
Stewart, and other writers of their school.”3
Physiognomical Arrangement of the Organs of the Fa¬
culties.—Each faculty, or group of faculties, has a corre¬
sponding portion of cerebral matter allotted to it. With
the exception of the sexual instinct, this consists in certain
convolutions of the hemispheres. The skull being moulded
upon the convolutions in youth and middle age (though not
in old age or in cerebral atrophy, when the convolutions
shrink, but the cranium remains unchanged), it is practicable
at these ages to mark out on the surface of the head the size
and extent of the organs of the faculties,—i.e., to form a
chart of the development of the various convolutions. We
subjoin a phrenological chart of this kind,4 as w'ell as a
psychological arrangement of the organs, the numbers ot
which correspond to the numbers of the chart:—
resist injustice; enables man to meet difficulties and dangers. Phrenology
Abuses—Love of contention, and propensity to provoke and assault,
 6. Destructiveness. Desire to destroy noxious objects, or for the
well-being of the individual (as to food, clothing, &c.) Abuses—:
Cruelty, murder, anger and severity in conduct and language.—
6 a. -it Z/'mentaJf’weiiess, or appetite for food. Uses—Nutrition. Abuses
■—Gluttony and drunkenness. This is also the supposed site of the
organ of Love of Life.—7. Secretiveness. Propensity to conceal the
person, or the thoughts, words, and actions; an ingredient in pru¬
dence. Abuses—Lying, deceit, duplicity, cunning.— 8. Acquisitive¬
ness. The desire to possess, and propensity to accumulate articles
of utility, to provide against want. Abuses—Selfishness, avarice,
theft.—9. Constructiveness. Desire to build and construct.
Order I.—Peelings.
Genus 1.—Propensities common to Man with the Lower Animals.
1. Amativeness. Sexual love, instinct, feeling.— 2. Philoprogeni¬
tiveness. Parental affection for young, affection for young and
tender beings. Abuses—Pampering and spoiling children, foolish
affection for pet animals. —3. Concentrativencss. Gives the desire
of permanence in place, renders permanent emotions and ideas in
the mind. Abuses—Aversion to move abroad, morbid dwelling on
internal emotions and ideas to the neglect of external impressions.
—3 a. Inhabitiveness. A modification of the preceding and follow¬
ing, but the organ doubtful.—4. Adhesiveness. Attachment to persons,
friendship, love of society ; generally strong in women. Abuses -
Attachment to worthless individuals, union for worthless ends.—5.
Combativeness. Courage to meet danger and to overcome difficulties;
propensity to oppose and attack whatever excites opposition, and to
Genus 2.—Sentiments.
(a) Sentiments common to man and, the Lower Animals.—10. Self-
Esteem. Self-respect, self-interest, love of independence, personal
dignity. Abuses—Pride, disdain, love of dominion, overweening
conceit, great selfishness.—11. Love of Approbation. Desire to
obtain the esteem of others, to acquire fame, praise. Abuses—
Ambition, vanity, thirst for unmerited praise.—12. Cautiousness.
The desire to shun danger, circumspection, prudence. Abuses—
Undue fear, excessive timidity, unfounded apprehensions, despond¬
ency.—13. Benevolence. Desire to give happiness to others, mild¬
ness of disposition, universal sympathy and charity. Abuses—
Profusion, injurious indulgence of the appetites and fancies of
others, facility of temper.
(b) Sentiments proper to Man.—14. Veneration. Tendency to re¬
spect whatever is great and good, gives origin to religious adora¬
tion. Abuses—Superstition, love of antiquated customs, abject
1 Mr Combe, A System, &c., vol. i., p. 180.
3 Testimonial to Mr Geo. Combe, Phren. Journal, vol. x., p. 109.
2 Mr Combe, loco cit.
* Prefixed to Mr Combe’s Elem. of Phren., 12mo, 6th ed., 1845.
PHRENOLOGY. 563
Phrenology
subserviency to authority.—15. Firmness. Determination, steadi¬
ness of purpose, perseverance. Abuses—Stubbornness, infatuation,
tenacity in evil.—16. Conscientiousness. Sentiment of justice, re¬
spect for the rights of others, openness to conviction, the love of
truth. Abuses—Ignorant adherence from conscientious motives to
noxious principles, excessive refinement in views of duty and obli¬
gation, excessive remorse or self-condemnation.—17. Hope. Tend¬
ency to expect future good, sentiment of faith. Abuses—Credulity
as to attainment of things desired, absurd expectations.—18. Won¬
der. The desire of novelty, admiration of the new, the unexpected,
the surprising. Abuses—Love of the" marvellous and occult, belief
in false miracles and supernatural absurdities.—19. Ideality.
Love of the beautiful and splendid, desire for excellence; the po¬
etic feeling. Abuses—Absurd enthusiasm; preference of the fanci¬
ful, showy, and glaring, to the neglect of the duties of life.—19 a.
The function of these convolutions is not yet determined.—20. Wit.
The sentiment of the ludicrous, feeling of mirth.—21. Imitation.
Disposes to copy the manners, voice, actions of others, and the ap¬
pearances in nature generally.
Order II.—Intellectual Faculties.
Genus \.— The External Senses.
Genus 2.—Knowing Faculties.
(a.) Knowing Faculties which perceive the Existence and Qualities of
External Objects.—22. Individuality. Takes cognisance of existence
and simple facts.—23. Form. Renders man observant of form of ob¬
jects.—24. Size. Gives the idea of space, and the power to appre¬
ciate dimension and distance.—25. Weight. Communicates the per¬
ception of momentum, weight, and resistance ; aids equilibrium.—
26. Colouring. Takes cognisance of colours and their harmonies.
(b.j Knowing Faculties which perceive the Relations of External
Objects.—27. Locality. Gives the idea of direction in space.—28.
Number. Gives the talent for calculation.—29. Order. Commu¬
nicates the love (or the power) of physical arrangement.— 30.
Eventuality. Takes cognisance of occurrences or events.—31.
Time. Is the faculty of perceiving duration.—32. Tune. Is the
source of melody and harmony.—33. Language. The faculty of
acquiring a knowledge of arbitrary signs to express thoughts, of
inventing and recollecting them, and of readily using them.
Genus 3.—Reflecting Faculties, which Compare, Judge, and
Discriminate.
34. Comparison. The faculty of discovering analogies, resem¬
blances, and differences.—35. Causality. Traces the dependencies
of phenomena, and the relation of cause and effect.
Phrenologists are not all agreed as to the details of this
arrangement, and have proposed others. Dr Vimont cri¬
ticises it on some points ; Mr Robert Cox has published a
very able and interesting essay on its defects Mr Sidney
Smith, in his Principles of Phrenology, has some acute
remarks ; Mr Joshua Toulmin Smith gives an almost en¬
tirely new arrangement in his Synopsis of Phrenology,
based on philosophical views more advanced than those of
Spurzheim. It is improbable that, in the present state of
knowledge, any arrangement can be made complete. The
difficulties inherent in the subject itself are perhaps insur¬
mountable. But imperfect though these conclusions may
be, they are worthy of respect, as being well-tried deductions
from observations made on many fields of research by nume¬
rous observers. The collections of crania, casts, drawings,
and the like, in the possession of private persons or public
societies, may be taken as some slight index of the extent and
industry with which these observations have been made.
Gall’s own collection contained 354 skulls, casts of skulls,
brains, &c., illustrating the phrenology of man ; 120 heads
of quadrupeds ; and 138 heads of birds. A manuscript de¬
scriptive catalogue of this collection is amongst the MSS.
in the museum of the Phrenological Society of Edinburgh.
It is a copy of that drawn up by Dr Dauncey, the pupil
and friend of Gall, and contains the record of the facts and
correspondence of each subject, as observed by the latter.1 2
The Edinburgh museum is remarkably rich in crania and
casts of crania illustrative of characteristics of nations and Phrenology
races. Of these there are 313, besides 150 miscellaneous v—
skulls, many of great interest. It contains also 280 busts
and 100 masks of eminent or notorious individuals.
In 1817 a Mr Deville, a lamp-manufacturer of London,
was a member of the institution of civil engineers. He
had been originally a pot-boy, then a journeyman plasterer,
and afterwards kept a shop for the sale of plaster figures,
which he cast. He had risen to a respectable position sim¬
ply by the force of his natural powers. Mr Bryan Donkin,
a civil engineer, was an early auditor of Gall at Vienna,
and subsequently a friend of Spurzheim. He was also, like
Mr Deville, a member of the institution of civil engineers ;
and when, in 1817, he with others determined to make a
collection of casts as records of phrenological facts, Mr.
Deville was applied to for his assistance, which he rendered
as a matter of business for three or four years. In 1821
he became interested in phrenology, and began to form a
collection of casts on his own account. Already, in 1826,
Spurzheim said it was finer than any he had seen elsewhere.
At Mr Deville’s death in 1846, this collection consisted of
about 5450 pieces ; of these 3000 were crania of animals,
and the remainder (2450) illustrations of human phrenology.
There were 200 human crania, and 300 casts of crania;
amongst the latter, those which Baron Cuvier permitted Mr
Deville to take from all the authenticated human skulls in
the Museum of Comparative Anatomy of Paris. Mr De¬
ville was a practical observer, and possessed the large num¬
ber of 1500 casts of heads taken by himself from persons
while living. Amongst these were 50 casts of persons re¬
markably devoted to religion ; 40 of distinguished painters,
sculptors, architects, &c.; 30 of eminent navigators and
travellers ; 80 of poets, authors, and writers ; 70 of musi¬
cians, amateurs, and composers of music ; 25 of pugilists;
150 of criminals ; 120 pathological cases illustrative of in¬
sanity, &c. Perhaps the most interesting of all are 170
casts which illustrate the changes caused in the cranial con¬
formation of from 60 to 70 individuals by age, special
devotion to one pursuit, and the like. Mr Deville’s account
of some of these has been published.3 Other instances of
this kind may be mentioned. Dr Vimont, a disciple of
Gall, and the author of an important work [Traite de Phre-
nologie Humaine et Comparee), saw that the illustrations
which Gall drew from comparative anatomy and psychology
were too few and too imperfect. He therefore resolved to
develop this branch of phrenology ; and in 1827, when com¬
peting for the prize for physiology of the French Institute,
sent in a “ few fragments” of his researches in this direc¬
tion. His Memoir was accompanied by 2500 crania of ani¬
mals ; 1500 of these belonged to animals the manners
and habits of which were well known to him. In addition,
there were 400 wax models of cerebra, and an Atlas of more
than 300 drawings. This Memoir was the basis of his great
work ; and the Atlas of 120 plates (folio) which accompa¬
nies it contains 600 separate drawings, all beautifully done.
Again, Dr S. G. Morton of Philadelphia has a collection
of skulls, human and comparative, made for the purpose of
comparing the characters of the skulls of the different races
of men, and these again with the skulls of lower animals,
more especially with reference to the internal capacity of
the cranium, as indicative of the size of the brain. This
collection contained in 1841 above 1000 crania, of which
more than five hundred were human skulls. One hun¬
dred of these belonged to ancient Egyptians, the same
number to native-born Africans, and a still greater number
to ancient Peruvians, Mexicans, and nomade Indians of
the American continent. It was this collection which sup-
1 Phrenological Journal, vol. x., p. 154.
2 “ Catalogue, Numerical and Descriptive, of Heads of Men and Animals which composed the collection made by the late Dr Gall,
transcribed by Mens. A. A. Royer,” &c., Phren. Jour., vols. vi. and vii, 3 Pkren. Jour., vol. xiv., p. 32.
564
PHRENOLOGY.
Phrenology plied the materials for Dr Morton’s magnificent work,
Crania Americana.
Modes of Determining the Size and Activity of the Or¬
gans.—In practically determining whether the organs thus
indicated externally are present in any person, the phrenolo¬
gist depends primarily upon the size of the cranium, or ex¬
tent of certain portions of it—considering that the bony
covering corresponds (with certain recognised exceptions) to
the contained viscus in its subdivisions, both in magnitude
and form. Various instruments have been invented, and
rules are laid down, both for measuring the size of organs
and for avoiding the fallacies into which the observer may
fall, in consequence of anatomical or pathological conditions
interfering with the determination of size, or the universal
application of the general law of size = power. Thus the
development of the frontal sinuses, the differences coinci¬
dent with age and size in the development of the skull and
the thickness of the bony parietes, the influence of mor¬
bid states of the organ, as in hydrocephalus and the hke,
are examples of sources of fallacy against which the phre¬
nological observer must guard.
Nor, when he has at last accurately determined the do¬
minant size of an organ, does the practical phrenologist draw
absolute conclusions therefrom, ihe organ is but living
tissue, liable to be influenced in power and functional ac¬
tivity bv various vital conditions, of which he takes a due
estimate. The following are the points to be attended to
phrenologically in estimating the value of size of a cerebral
organ with reference to functional activity :—(«•) The tem¬
perament of the individual modifies the power or activity, so
that in a person of lymphatic temperament there will be no
more manifestation of a faculty with a large organ, than m
a person of a neuro-bilious temperament (more active) with
a moderate or even small organ. It is therefore necessary
to mark well the difference between power and activity in
reference to both size and temperament. (6.) Conditions of
the organ as regards health have great influence. In mania,
very forcible manifestations may proceed from a brain or an
organ unusually small. In old age, atrophy or disease is not
uncommon, (c.) Education or activity inci eases the size, and
therewith the power of an organ ; it may also inciease the
activity bv improving or modifying the condition independ¬
ently of size, {d.) The combination of two or more organs
may increase the power or force of manifestation of a faculty,
(e.) The combination of temperament or quality, of size,
and of exercise, may have a greater effect than each singly,
or any two in combination j and this effect is still further
intensified if two or more organs so modified act together.
“ Thus, in playing on a musical instrument, the organ of
Time co-operates with the organ of Tune; and the music will
be good or bad in proportion to the perfection of organs
in point of constitution, size, and exerciser (Mr Combe.)
( f.) There are circumstances as yet unknown which modify
the condition of the brain. “ We are not at present ac¬
quainted with the external signs of the highest of all qua¬
lities of brain which, when combined with adequate size,
constitutes genius ; whether it consists in an extraordinary
development of the gray matter, in a peculiar fineness of
constitution, or in some other form of endowment of the
brain, we are uncertain.”1 There are also other circum¬
stances, as habits, age, sex, race, and the like, which must
be taken into account in estimating the relations of organ
to manifestation of faculty.
Every faculty of the mind, and every state of conscious¬
ness, is represented in the facial movements, or in the
ral movements of the head, trunk, limbs ; i.e., it is signified
in expressions and attitudes. If, then, these be considered
as a language, and duly read, or, in other words, it phy¬
siognomy proper be brought in as an aid, the observer may Phrenology
be directed in his observations by the predominant atti- ^
tudes &c. These are termed by phrenologists the natural
language of the faculties. “ The laugh of Destructiveness
is bitter, and that of Self-Esteem is scornful; that of Bene¬
volence is soft and pleasing, that of Love of Approbation is
insinuating, that of Secretiveness is sly. .... The
crying of a child animated by an injury which has roused
its Destructiveness is quite different from that of one ex¬
cited to cry by mortified Love of Approbation. . . . .
When the organ of Self-Esteem predominates in size over
all other organs, it gives a cold, selfish, imperious air to the
individual. " He carries his head high, his look is full of
disdain, and his walk and speech are solemn and preten¬
tious.”2 This natural language is also used for determin¬
ing the locality of organs, because, according to Spurzheim
and his disciples, “ the motions are conformable to the^
seat of the organs. If, for instance, a faculty, the organ of
which is situated in the posterior part of the brain, be
active, the general motions are backward; and if its^ organ
be in the forehead, then the motions are forward.”2 In
the portraits of Sterne, this principle of the phrenologists is
said to be illustrated by the attitude in which that humourist
is painted; he sits leaning on his hand, with his fore-finger
resting over the organ of Wit..
Combinations of the Faculties.— I hese occui in varying
extent in all forms of mental action: two or several may
be predominantly active or powerful; few, if any, act singly.
The action of the faculties or organs in combination is a
very important branch of phrenology. Gall divided men
into six classes, with leading characteristics founded on
the combinations of organs or faculties into groups. For
example,—!. Individuals with the organs of the highest facul¬
ties and qualities completely developed, while those of the
faculties man has in common with lower animals (the mere
animal organs) are small, present a high type of moial
character. Their conduct is in accordance with reason
and justice. 2. Men with a converse development are
more allied to the animal; they are the slaves of sensuality
and error. 3. If the organs of both groups are large, the
man often manifests the most opposite qualities; there is
often a struggle between the higher and lower sentiments
and motives of human nature : <£ the flesh lusteth against
the spirit.” 4. Certain organs are sometimes highly de¬
veloped, while others are at par or a maximum. 1 his class
includes men of great but partial genius, or of great strength
of character. 5. Or there may be men of general ability,
but with some marked deficiency of mind or feeling. 6.
And lastly, in the sixth class are the average of mankind,
with a moderate and nearly equal development of all the
organs. There are also combinations in activity as^ well as
of size. It is evident that these combinations of organs
may vary almost ad infinitum. T. he six classes above given
Dr Gall allows “ are subject to thousands of modifications.
Mr Combe tried to state in methodical order the effect of
the combinations so far as observed, but found it to be so
difficult that he contented himself with setting forth three
rules to be followed, appending copious illustrations to each.
“ The reader,” Mr Combe observes, “ in whom the reflect¬
ing organs are amply developed will not only easily com¬
prehend the rules here laid down, but be able greatly to
enlarge the sphere of their application.”
Regional Phrenology.—Now, this physiognomy of groups
of allied or related organs is one of some special interest,
not only because certain modifications of the doctrine of
Gall have been founded on it, but also because of its im¬
portant bearings upon ethnology. Observers finding that
the discrimination of special organs is far more difficult,
i Phrenology applied to Painting and Sculpture, by George Combe, 8\o, 18o5, S( ^ voLu!’ ^297.’ P1'7 ’
3 Phrenological System, p. 269.
PHRENOLOGY.
565
Phrenology and the results much more unsatisfactory than that of
groups of organs, have turned their attention to a few large
regions of the head. Many who oppose phrenology as it
is in its details, admit freely that the development of cer¬
tain cranial regions is coincident with certain definite ma¬
nifestations of character, both individual and ethnic. They
admit the connection, e.g., of intellectual power with well-
developed anterior convolutions—of the higher sentiments
and emotions with the middle convolutions—of the in¬
stincts and propensities with the posterior and basic; or,
more definitely (with a distinguished anatomist and phy¬
siologist, Dr Carus of Dresden), they divide the head into
distinct regions rather than organs, and assign faculties,
feelings, instincts, to the corresponding regional portions
of the encephalon. This may be termed regional phre¬
nology. Dr Cains’ views attracted a good deal of atten¬
tion at the time he published his New Cranioscopy, in
opposition to that of Gall and Spurzheim.1 They are
founded mainly upon the laws of development of the
nervous system in vertebrates, or rather upon comparative
psychology in relation to the comparative anatomy of the
brain. He divides the head from before backwards into
three regions, making the auditory foramen the starting-
point of each line of demarcation. Mr Combe rejects Dr
Cams’ doctrine, but, like him, also divides the head into
three regions. The first includes the organs of the in¬
tellectual faculties {vide chart) ; the second, the moral and
religious sentiments peculiar to man ; the third, the senti¬
ments and propensities manifested by him in common with
the lower (vertebrate) animals. Mr Combe has laid down
rules for measuring these regions.2 Mr Morton proposes,
and has followed another method.
Ethnographical Phrenology.—Phrenology has investi¬
gated the coincidences between the natural talents and dis¬
positions of nations and the development of the organ of
mind. These ethnological researches are, indeed, amongst
the most interesting of phrenology, and have an important
bearing upon diplomacy, legislation, and the art of govern¬
ment. Regional physiognomy has been most used in this
department. As we have no space for the examination of
the questions mooted, we simply refer the reader to the
works of Gall, Spurzheim, Combe, Yimont, &c.
Comparative Phrenology.—We have seen that the same
method of research has often been applied to the higher
vertebrate animals (mammals and birds) as to man. A
comparative phrenology supplementary to, and corrobora¬
tive of, human phrenology, has been the final result. Dr
Spurzheim states that the heads and skulls of birds which
sing and of those which do not sing, and the heads of the
different individuals of the same kind which have a greater
or less disposition to sing, present a conspicuous difference
at the place of the organ. The heads of males, for in¬
stance, and those of females of the same kind of singing
birds are easily distinguished by their different development.
Gall seems to have compared the skulls of animals of
different species, with a view to determine the situation of
an organ. His disciples have objected to this method as
unphilosophical,—animals of the same species should alone
be compared. Dr Vimont of Paris is the most recent and
able investigator of the cranial physiognomy of animals, and
is justly regarded by phrenologists as the highest authority.
He has been led by direct observations to the opinion, that
the cranial conformation is as indicative of the feelings,
instincts, and faculties of mammals and birds, as it is of those
of mankind. In the Atlas to his elaborate work already
noticed, Dr Yimont gives cranioscopic charts of dogs and
birds. Birds, of all vertebrates, he states, have the most
regular cranioscopical development.
Applications of Phrenological Doctrines. Phrenology
In his lucid and acute criticism of phrenology, Mr G. H.
Lewes remarks that it has two distinct aspects. “ It is a doc¬
trine of psychology, and it is an art of reading character.
The scientific doctrine is based on the physiology of the s
nervous system, to which is added psychological analysis and
classification. The art is based on empirical observation of
coincidences between certain configurations of the skull
and certain mental phenomena.”3 These two aspects com¬
prise two corresponding groups of applications of phreno-
logy, which are really independent of each other. The
scientific doctrines are capable of application deductively,
although no special observations be made as to the configu¬
ration of the skull; they may be held to constitute the basis
of a system of moral and mental philosophy, with its dpriori
truths, in which the physiognomical element is secondary.
On the other hand, the art may be, and most usually is,
practised without much, and sometimes with very little,
knowledge of the scientific doctrines. Hence it is neces¬
sary to distinguish clearly between these two applications.
1. Applications of Phrenology to Philosophy and Me?ital
Science.—To phrenology may be fairly conceded the grand
merit of having forced the inductive method of inquiry into
mental philosophy, and thus laid the permanent foundations
of a true mental science. For two thousand years or more
philosophy had ignored in all its various systems the great
fact, that in the order of nature there is no consciousness
manifested without a material organ. Two principles of in¬
quiry arose out of this circumstance, and still continue their
influence:—(a.) It is denied that the phenomena of con¬
sciousness are dependent at all upon organization. No phy¬
siology ever can explain, or help to explain (it is held), one
purely mental phenomenon. Its analogies may sometimes
suggest a mental law, but that at most is all it can do.
Thought and the laws of thought can only be studied in
self-knowledge. This is the actual teaching of an existing
sect of philosophy; and all who attempt to investigate the
necessary connection of mental and vital phenomena are stig¬
matised and repudiated by it as “ materialists,”—a term im¬
plying, in their vocabulary, not only scepticism as to their
philosophy, but heterodoxy as to the principles of sound mo¬
rals. (6.) Another sect admits that mind is in some way or
other connected with organization; but they hold, either
that the nature of that connection is much too difficult and
mysterious for investigation, or they admit the principle to
be only partially true, and that the higher mental pheno¬
mena of man have no necessary connection with organiza¬
tion. Hence the practical result of both classes of doctrines
has been to exclude the anatomy and physiology of the
brain from the science of Thought. Now Gall and his
disciples, in starting from their fundamental generalization
that the phenomena of consciousness have all, necessarily
and without any exception whatever, their corresponding-
phenomena in the living organism, established the other
principle, that psychological and neurological researches, to
be successful, must be inseparable. Deductions from the
mere phenomena of consciousness, they affirm, can never
establish singly a science of mind, because these pheno¬
mena are ever changing from moment to moment with the
ever-varying conditions of the living organism, and espe¬
cially of the encephalon. A knowledge, therefore, of the
physiology of the encephalon is absolutely necessary to a
knowledge of mind. This is the primary and fundamental
application of phrenology to mental philosophy. “ We
may point to Gall,” Mr Lewes therefore justly observes,
“ as having formed an epoch in the history of philosophy
by inaugurating a new method.”1 This new method soon
1 Grundziige einer neuen und wissenschaftlich begriindeten Cranioscopie, von Dr Carl Gustav Carus, &c., Stuttgart, 1841.
2 In Morton’s Crania Americana, p. 278. 3 Biographical History of Philosophy, p. 634. 4 Op, cit., p. 645.
566
PHRENOLOGY.
Phrenology cleared away some of the useless questions of speculative
philosophy. It established the principle, that there are con¬
nate tendencies or faculties, both affective and intellectual,
which are inseparably connected with the structure that
serves as the organ of mind. But it also established that
* other principle, that if the organ is not developed, or, if de¬
veloped, not rendered functionally active by the appropriate
stimuli, the faculty is not manifested. Hence, while phre-
noloo-v taught the plurality of organs and of faculties, it also
taught that the fundamental faculties cannot be created by
education; they can only be evolved or developed by it.
Phrenology, as we have seen, founded upon these great
principles a new theory and classification of the faculties. It
attempted to discriminate between those which are simple
and fundamental, and those which are complex or secondary
 the result of two or more of the fundamental faculties act-
ing in combination ; and it pointed out what states of con-
sciousness were attributes of all the faculties. Thus, pain
or pleasure is an attribute of all the faculties ; memory of all
those that are intellectual, and dependent wholly upon the
condition of the respective organs: judgment is the same.
With this new classification a new but imperfect termino¬
logy was constructed, the terms of which have penetrated
into the literature and language of the present day. As a sys¬
tem of practical philosophy, or of practical mental science,
phrenology teaches those laws by which man exists and acts
as a rational being, and maintains that he can only be go¬
verned and educated in accordance with those laws. It pro¬
fesses to discover the varying capabilities of races of men for
civilization; or, in other words, their innate capacity for in¬
struction and development, and thereby indicates the gene¬
ral principles of government as applicable to races. It
maintains that men must be educated with reference to
the connate predominance or defect of this or that organ
or faculty ; that is to say, that which is naturally defective
must be developed, that which is in excess ie[)iessed ; so
that a harmonious balance of all the powers (the summum
bonum of mental development) may be attained. Exter¬
nal circumstances of parents or of offspring involving the
health, or a long persistence in the exercise of some or one
of the faculties,—such as minister to theft, licentiousness,
gluttony, and the like,—will lead to the disturbance of this
balance. These circumstances must be anticipated and
obviated by society ; and when individuals are plainly go¬
verned by an over-mastering faculty, and thus led into
crime, they must be restrained by society, and put into cir¬
cumstances such that they may be enabled to exercise a
self-control. In other words, an enlightened prison disci¬
pline can only be based safely on phrenological doctrines.
Healthy action of the organs is necessary to healthy mani¬
festation of the faculties. Hence the laws of hygiene, de¬
duced from an accurate physiology and the facts of experi¬
ence, must be applied to man’s corporeal wellbeing, if we
would elevate him as a thinking and moral agent, h or this
reason, the phrenologists are amongst the most strenuous
advocates for such an education of the people as shall put
every man in the position to know and apply the laws of
healthy existence to the wellbeing of himself and his off¬
spring. Such culture, they also argue (and on the most
irrefragable grounds), is as essential to the welfare of a
nation as to the wellbeing of individuals. Without it, civili¬
zation can never advance beyond a limit which it is not
impossible to trace out; with it, to fix a limit to man’s pro¬
gressive development would be difficult.
- We will not here specify more particularly the applica¬
tions of the doctrines of phrenology to theology, the aits,
medicine, and domestic life. The whole subject k6-
yond our plan, if it were not beyond our limits. We can
only refer the reader to the systematic works of Gall, Spurz-
heim, Mackenzie, Andrew and George Combe, Yimont,
Broussais, Caldwell, Friederich, Bray, Brigham, Sampson,
and others, in which social questions are treated phrenolo- Phrenology
gically. The general principles of the science thus ap-
plied are based upon an admitted science of human phy¬
siology, or on the common-sense of mankind; while the
physiognomy that is used is of that regional character which
few intelligent men question. It is mainly, therefore, in
the conflicts of phrenology with dogmatic theology and
speculative philosophy that doubts have been raised as to
the soundness of its general principles and of its practical
applications. With these at present we have no concern.
2. Phrenology as an Art.—Many animals are instinctive
physiognomists. Every passion or emotion has its lan¬
guage, and this language can be read more or less accu¬
rately by the organism or being concerned in the reading.
This, for obvious reasons, is markedly true of social animals,
and most particularly of man. T. he history of a man s mental
life is often written so ineffaceably on his features that no
efforts of his can conceal from his fellow-men those lines
which the workings of bad passions and of evil propensities
have left. We have seen that phrenology, as a physiogno¬
mical science and art, originated in the strong desire which
Gall had to read by external signs the characters of those
about him. Many of his disciples—the large majority per¬
haps—have been attracted to his doctrines with the hope of
gratifying a similar desire. It is not surprising, then, to
find that what has been texmed. practical phrenology, or the
art of reading character, has been the main object of cul¬
ture and research since Gall, and has become, in the eyes of
the public and of literary men, the principal department of
phrenology,—nay, phrenology itself. Now it cannot be
doubted that, amongst those persons thus attracted to phre¬
nology, there is a large proportion who have a natural bias
to physiognomical observation and research, and who thei e-
fbre are endowed with those faculties which are necessaiy
to constitute a successful physiognomist. Thus endowed,
it is not surprising that they can practise the art of leading
character with results for the most part so striking, as to
impress both themselves and others with a strong convic¬
tion of the truth of the principles upon which the art is
founded, and of the value of the methods by which it is
practised. Their instinctive powers of perception, naturally
crreat, are developed by exercise, and their conclusions cor¬
rected by the cranioscopical experience of those who have
preceded them. Besides, they do not neglect, when practis¬
ing their art, those other physiognomical characteristics by
means of which persons, not phrenologists, can often dis¬
cover with surprising accuracy the character and ruling
motives of those about them. While examining the con¬
figuration of the skull, the phrenologist also observes the
habit of body, gait, gestures, features, tones of voice, and
facial expression of the subject of his inquiry; and it is
from the results of all these observations that he determines
the character. Thus the elements of a successful ai t of p iy-
siognomy—not necessarily phrenological are numeious,
and a higher value is placed upon phrenological physiog¬
nomy as an art, than can be fairly conceded to it if esti¬
mated independently of the skill of the artist and of the
collateral aids he uses to help his conclusions.
The practice of phrenology having mainly fallen into the
hands of a sort of professional body, the members of which
claim for it and for themselves, without any special educa¬
tion, a larger share of public confidence than they are en¬
titled to have conceded to them, its pretensions have under¬
gone every form of criticism and attack. Now, it is not a
difficult task to show that, apart from the follies and frauds of
ignorant charlatans, the phrenological art of reading charac¬
ter, however useful, is, and always must be, a conjectural
art. At every step of the process there are sources of uncer¬
tainty, some of which are wholly irremoveable. 1. It is a
fact, that the determination of the fundamental faculties is as
yet incomplete. 2. The organs of some of the faculties re-
PHRENOLOGY.
Phrenology cognised as fundamental have yet to be discovered. The
IT1- ^ J discovery of the functions of certain convolutions is impeded
by the circumstance that their relative size cannot be detected.
This is confessedly applicable to those convolutions which
correspond to the inner longitudinal surface of each hemi¬
sphere, to the superior surface of the cerebellum (upon which
they rest), and to the wings of the sphenoid bone at the base
of the skull. Now these surfaces may be roughly estimated
to constitute from one-fifth to one-sixth of the entire sur¬
face of the convolutions. 3. Changes in the cranial bones
give rise to varying thickness or thinness of the bony
parietes, not easy, if not sometimes impossible, to detect
during life. 4. This source of difficulty is increased when
we remember that this condition of the bones is often the
effect of obscure morbid states of the brain itself or of its
membranes, or both; which states, although not easily
recognised, profoundly modify the mental manifestations.
We say nothing of minor sources of error provided against
by phrenological rules, such as the varied size of the frontal
sinuses,1 the development of the hair and of the muscles
attached to the cranium, and the condition of the other soft
parts ; nor of the difficulties afforded by atrophy of the con¬
volutions, by age and sex, and by combinations of organs.
But even were these difficulties overcome, greater remain
behind, in the varying vital conditions which influence the
manifestations of the organs independently of size. Some
of these of the highest importance—le.g., those connected
with genius—are confessedly unknown ; others require for
their due estimate an amount of knowledge we are far from
possessing. The connate powers of the blood and tissues
generally known as temperaments vary greatly. Rules
have been set forth for estimating their influence on the
health and vigour of the body and mind far from satisfac¬
tory to those who have studied the physiology and patho¬
logy of “ temperaments.” In truth, there is no one branch
of medicine which is more imperfectly developed ; none in
which there is a larger amount of floating, crude, indefinite
knowledge. We feel we may be permitted to speak with
some authority on this point, since we have made these in¬
nate conditions of the blood and tissues the subjects of
special observation and inquiry for several years past, with
a view to both the practice and teaching of medicine. But,
besides the temperaments, there are diatheses, or constitu¬
tions predisponent to particular forms of diseased action
which are often grafted on the former, often arise out of
them, and always modify them greatly. Then these tem¬
peraments and diatheses are hardly ever met with in the
typical form, but are commingled with each other in ever-
varying proportions; so that the most practised observer
may be at fault in his diagnosis.
But the condition of each organ, as regards health and dis¬
ease, in the same individual, modifies its manifestation. Thus
an active small organ may be in the same individual more
powerful than an inactive large one. But this question of
condition of special organs involves a knowledge of some of
the most abstruse problems in the physiology and patho¬
logy of the nervous system. Certain faculties and organs,
for example, are intimately associated, as to function, with
the condition of certain viscera. A weak fatty heart or a
diseased colon are not unfrequently in direct relation with
various forms of melancholia. An aberration in the func¬
tions of the ovaria is sometimes the immediate cause of moral
insanity in women ; so that the very qualities for which the
individual was remarkable are reversed,—e.g. truthfulness
and candour are changed into habitual falsehood and dissi¬
mulation, affection for relatives into malice, and the like.
The physiological influence of certain viscera upon the na¬
tural activity of organs, or groups of organs, is very remark-
567
able. Thus, when the ovaria or testes are removed, various Phrenology
faculties are exalted or weakened ; when they are developed i v-a._;
or brought into unusual functional activity, various faculties
are correspondingly weakened or exalted. This is particu¬
larly seen to be the case with animals in which the repro¬
ductive function is periodic. In birds, especially of the so- «
cial or gregarious kinds, the development of the ovaria and
testes is accompanied with a manifestation not of amative¬
ness or philoprogenitiveness only, but of combativeness,
cunning, constructiveness, time, tune, conscientiousness, &c.
Further, changes in the composition of the blood have a
direct influence upon special organs in the same individual.
Thus, certain poisons introduced therein excite special facul¬
ties into action. We may mention alcohol, opium, haschich,
henbane, and belladonna as striking examples. In some
diseases, similar elective affinities are observed. In certain
forms of pulmonary phthisis the patient is gay and hopeful
to the last, even when the most extensive and most fearful
disease is present—not in the lungs only, but in the liver,
spleen, intestines. The materies morhi of gout seems to
stimulate the organs of Combativeness and Destructiveness ;
for the gouty patient is so often irrepressibly irritable that
a fit of the gout has been termed a fit of madness.
These are some of the many modes in which the con¬
dition of special organs may be influenced dgnamicallg, and
both power and activity be developed irrespectively of size.
Of the whole of the latter class, it may be said that we
have hardly attained to so much knowledge as even to dis¬
cover the extent of our ignorance. It is not surprising,
therefore, that with so many and such great sources of fal¬
lacy, cautious physiologists and pathologists, while granting
its uses, hesitate to practise seriously the art of reading
character, and feel indisposed to place more confidence in
the professors of it than they feel in themselves.
But a weightier source of objection to the art, in the
opinion of many, is to be found in the fact, that those least
qualified by culture to practise it have most commonly ex¬
ercised themselves therein. Persons without any education
in physiology and pathology, or with little more than scraps
of information gathered at random, do not hesitate to pro¬
fess their capability to solve the most important practical
questions in mental science. To the intelligent and in¬
structed they are but mere charlatans, whose ignorance and
pretensions would curse with fatal blight any science or art,
however well established or noble. We are hound to add
that Mr Combe (the great loss of whom by death while these
pages were being written we have to lament), and others,
frankly acknowledge that applied phrenology is an estima¬
tive art only—such, in fact, as is applied medicine itself.2
But then every accomplished physician finds, as his know¬
ledge and experience increase with his years, that Ins youth¬
ful confidence in the certainty of medicine was not well
founded ; he becomes more and more convinced of its con¬
jectural character as a science, more cautious and prudent,
therefore, in the application of its principles, and more re¬
liant on a learned experience. If, then, doubts, or at least
a hesitating caution, be a duty of the physician as to the art
of medicine, based on the experience of ages, how much
more are they justifiable as to an art confessedly imperfect
in important details, and hardly half a century old? It is
not difficult to understand from these considerations why
the young and enthusiastic followers of Gall and Spurzheim
cool in their estimate of phrenology as they get older, and
even pass over to the ranks of its opponents. Thus, by not
a few medical science and art are treated; and so, a fortiori,
must phrenology be, since it is only a department of the great
science of medicine, resting, as medicine itself rests, upon
the great but imperfect science of life. (t. l.)
1 Dr Vimont says he has examined the frontal sinuses in more than five hundred human crania, and has not found them alike in two.
(TraiU de Phrenologie, &c., tom. i., p. 83.) 2 Mr Combe, On the Functions of the Cerebellum, &c., p. 190.
568
P H K
Phrixus
PHRIXUS. SeeHELLE. p a ^ Minor of
ii PHRYGIA, an important province of Asia Minor, o
Phrynichus which the an6ent boundaries are exceedingly various a
^indistinct. Phrygia proper was, according to Ptole y,
bounded on the N. by Pontus and B.thyma; W- W
Troas the ^cean Sea, Lydia, Mseoma, and Lana, s. oy
Lvcla ■ E by Pamphvlia Ai Galatia. The once extensive
territory inhabited byAe Phrygians was limited durmg the
conquits of Cyrus \o Lesser Phpn,a on tte Hellespont
and to Greater Phrygia. The former, as far as cm, b
ascertained, included Troas, and bor,dere^ “o L^a
Bithvnia and the Greater Phrygia, and in the S. on Lydia.
The Greater Phrygia, again, formed the central coun i
IsH Minot bounded on the N. by Bithynia and Paphla-
tnia E b; the river Halys, and S. by Mount Taurus.
& The origin and nationality of the inhabitants o
is a subiect wrapt in great obscurity. Some regard the
i Thrfcians (Wl others as Armenians -d oRier
again as of mixed origin. It seems rnost probable that at
some very remote period they had descended from the Ai
menian highlands; for, as we may gather from numerous
hints afforded by ancient writers, there must have been a
time when the Phrygian race formed by tar the most™-
nortant part of the entire population of Asia Minoi. ine
Pelasgian races seem to have belonged to the Great Phrygian
stock! and the Trojans, Mysians, Mteomans, Mygdomans
and Dolionians are all traceable to the same origin. Moving
westward, the Phrygians seem at an early period to have
settled about the central parts of Emathia in Europe.
These Phrygians (or Brygians) are met with in all direc¬
tions ; and indeed this important race seems at one time
to have constituted the main element of the population
the greater part of Thrace, Macedonia, and Illyr.cum.
Yielding gradually to the pressure of the northern peoples,
the Phrygians seem to have migrated back to Asia an
event dated by Xanthus about ninety years before the
Troian war, and which may serve to account for the
Thracian origin assigned to them by tradition. I he rlny-
o-ians are repeatedly alluded to in the Homeric poems
(Iliad, ii. 862; hi. 185; x. 431; xvi. 717; xxiv. 53o);
and are generally admitted to be one of the most ancient
nations of Asia Minor (Herodotus, ii. 2).
The religious ideas of the Phrygians seem to have exer¬
cised a great influence over the mythological development
of the Greeks. Phrygia was a country rich in all kinds ot
produce. Agriculture was their chief occupation ; they
bestowed much care on the cultivation of the vine ; and
the country was distinguished for the excellent breed of its
sheep, and for the fineness of their wool. Phrygian marble
was much prized, and gold seems to have been found in its
streams. It possessed well-built towns in the time of
Homer (Iliad, iii. 400), which were great commercial em-
poria. Such were Pesinus, Gordium, Celmnae, and Apamea,
the last of which was long a chief centre of trade for the
whole of Asia Minor. . . .
After the overthrow of the Persian power in Asia Minor
by Alexander the Great, Phrygia seems gradually to have
lost its original boundaries in the distribution ot territory
which ensued, as well as by the frequent changes to w nc i
it was subjected by subsequent conquest.
PHRYNICHUS, a tragic poet of Athens, was the son
of Polyphradmon or Phradmon, and the disciple ot the
celebrated Thespis, being a little earlier than Aeschylus.
He gained the tragic prize, B.C. 511, and is said to have
introduced several improvements into the dramatic ai t,
bringing on the stage female characters, and making the
actors adopt the use of masks, instead ot disfiguring their
faces with the lees of wine. Suidas mentions the names of
nine of his tragedies, and ascribes to another Phrynichus,
son of Melanthus, a tragedy entitled The Sack of Miletus,
which recalled so forcibly to the Athenians the melancholy
Physhar-
monica.
P II Y
fate of that Greek city, that they punished the poet by a Phrynichus
fine of a thousand Attic drachmae, or, according to Allan,
banished him from Athens. As the son of Phradmon is
said to have died in Sicily, probably at the court of Hiero, ^
where Aschylus also took refuge, it is not unlikely that this
tragedy may have been his production. _
Phrynichus, one of the last and most noted writeis o
the old comedy at Athens, flourished B.C. 435, and was the
contemporary of Eupolis, Euripides, and Aristophanes. He
obtained the second prize, B.C. 405, the year before Athens
was taken by the Spartans. Plutarch states that in one ot
his plays he defended Alcibiades when he was accused ot
having mutilated the statues of Hermes, Aristophanes
ridicules Phrynichus for introducing too frequently on the
stage characters in low life. The fragments of Phrynichus
have been collected by Morel, Ex Veterum Comicorum
Fabulis quce Integra non extant, Par. 1553; by Heitehus
Vetustissimorum Comicorum Sententue, Bale, lobU; ana
by Grotius, Excerpta ex Tragcediis et Comaidns, Gr. Lat.
Par. 1626. (See also Meineke, Frag. Com. Grmc.; ana
Bergk. Relig. Com. Att. Anti)
Phrynichus Arrhabius, a Greek grammarian, was a
native of Bithynia, and flourished about the middle ot the
second century, in the reigns of Marcus Aurelius and of
Commodus. He had devoted much time to the study ot
the Greek language, which he pretended to speak and write
in the utmost purify. He made a collection of all the
words used in the Attic dialect, of which an abridgment
has been preserved under the title A Selection of Attic
Verbs and Nouns. He rejected every word which could
not be found in some work of Plato, Thucydides, or De¬
mosthenes, and was particularly severe on the style o
Menander. This Tittle work, published first by Calhergi,
Rome 1517, was reprinted at Venice, 1524; but the best
edition is that of C. A. Lobeck, with learned annotations,
Leipsic, 1820, 8vo. Phrynichus had also collected ex¬
amples of every different kind of style, in the form of a
dictionary, divided into thirty-five books, which he dedi¬
cated to the Emperor Commodus. Some ffagments of this
work remain, which have been published by Montfaucon
in the Bibliotheca Coisliniana, pp. 465-69.
PHUKOK, or Kothrol, an island in the Gult ot biam,
off the coast of Cambodia, from which it is separated by a
navigable strait. It is about 7 miles long, an r°a ’
audit has a harbour in N. Lat. 10. 17.. E. Long. 04. 16.
The surface is well wooded, and produces the eagle-wood
(Aquilaria Agallochum), which yields a fragrant resin,
used in India as a cure for gout. The natives aie em¬
ployed in spearing the tripang, or sea-cucumber (Lloto-
thuria), an animal which is used in China tor the prepaia-
tion of soups. ' ... t t ^
PHULOWDEE, a town of India, m the rajpoot state
of Jodhpoor, 147 miles N.E. of Balmeer, and 1180 N.W.
of Calcutta ;• N. Lat. 27. 8, E. Long. 72. 28. It stands on
a hill, and seems to have been formerly surrounded with a
wall, part of which still remains in a ruinous condition.
Pop. estimated at nearly 15,000.
PHYLACTERY ^Xa^iov, a safeguard) was a name
applied in general to any amulet or preservative against
any kind of evil. The term was employed, in particular,
to denote those strips of parchment worn by the Jews, an
inscribed with particular passages of Scripture. (Deut. vi.
4-9; xi. 13-21; Exod. xiii. 1-10, 11-16.) These phy¬
lacteries were folded up, and inclosed in a small leat lei
box, and worn upon the forehead, nearly between the eyes,
or upon the left arm near to the heart, being attached y
straps of leather. They were considered as thus remin
ing the wearers to fulfil the law with the head and. heart.
PHYSHARMONICA, a musical instrument, in which
the immediate sonorous bodies are springs of steel oi o
brass, vibrated by a current of air.
569
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical (1-) Geographt, or a description of the earth, may he
Geography, considered under several distinct points of view, necessi-
''■'"'V-'*’' tated by the nature of so extensive a subject; three of
which, however, are well distinguished from each other,
and present it under aspects of primary importance, prac¬
tical and scientific.
Political Geography considers the surface of our globe
as parcelled out into states and empires, inhabited by
communities and races of the great human family, vari¬
ously affected by the different characters of soil and
climate, by which their lands, manners, and occupations
are modified ; and continually encroaching on each other,
and altering their mutual boundaries by conquest or colo¬
nization. This view of geography is therefore essentially
arbitrary and conventional, as well as in a perpetual
state of change from age to age. Commerce and statistics,
aptitude for military occupation or defence, facilities fox-
internal and extex-nal communication, and products avail¬
able for human wants, foi-m its chief subject-matter; and
cities and towns, the centres of population, powei’, and
enlightenment, its most important landmarks.
(2.) Descriptive Geography, while it neglects the boun¬
daries of states, or uses them only for such convenience
as they may afford for the subdivision of its subject, con¬
cerns itself principally with the exact delineation, in
charts, of the coast-lines of continents and islands, intexmal
seas or lakes—with the courses and embankments of
rivers, the configuration of the surface of the land, as con¬
sisting of mountains, valleys, and plains, whether deli¬
neated in chai*ts by conventional shading, or marked out
by level lines, or described in words. Its scope embraces,
moreover, a particular and detailed account of their ex¬
ternal aspect, soil, scenexy, and animal, vegetable, and
mineral productions, which characterize and diversify
each district; irrespective, or but little respective, of
their uses to man, or of their connection inter se, or of the
causes which have operated to produce them. Of all
these, it would be the business of a perfect “ Descriptive
Geography” to exhibit a true and faithful picture, a sort
of daguex-reotype, without note or comment.
(3.) Such comment, or at least one of such comments, it
is the object of Physical Geography to supply. Taking
for granted such knowledge as we possess of the general
laws of physics, and of the mode in which they are carried
out into action, under given circumstances of time and
place ; and basing itself on the detail of particular features
afforded by the last-mentioned department of the general
science—it calls attention to those laws as displayed in
operation whenever, so to speak, they project in relief,
and stand forward as luminiferous examples {instantice
luciferce) of the application of theoretical views on the
great scale. Its aim is to exhibit the heap of particulars
gathered and stored up by descriptive geography, as con¬
stituting a harmonious whole, bound together by mutual
relations and interagencies, and subordinate to a great
scheme of providential arx-angement. And this it does,
not by going over the items seriatim, and following up the
order of description with a running comment, but, by
seizing ou whatever is illustrative at one point, and com¬
paring it with what is similarly illustrative at another;
by bringing into notice the causes which either evidently
are acting, or by reasonable implication must be presumed
to have acted, to produce the more striking and charac-
tex-istic phenomena of such regions as offer anything
v OL. XVII.
i-emarkable ; and of such as do not, by shewing how this Physical
very monotony is itself the result of a prevalent unifor- f^eograpny.
mity of causation, of which a rational account can be
i-endered, and which it illustrates no less strikingly by the
absence of salient features, than the complications observ¬
able elsewhere do by their number and variety.
(4.) With these general laws, with the principles which
govern their application, and with the methods which
science affords of deductively tracing out their application
from the abstract enunciation of the laws themselves,
under specified circumstances, to precise and intelligible
results, the physical geographer must be conversant; so
far at least, that he must possess a familiar acquaintance
with physical principles, and such an insight into their
application as shall enable him to take on well-grounded
trust the conclusions of others more advanced in such
knowledge. For all such knowledge in its detail, we must
refer our readers to those articles of the px-esent work
which treat specifically of the several branches of physics,
appeal to which is involved in any part of our treatment
of the subject. But some of its leading points require to
be briefly recapitulated, as embodying the first elements
and material out of which, as well as exhibiting the ground-
plan and general design on which, the whole superstruc¬
ture has to be raised.
(5.) And first, then—from Astronomy we learn that
the figure of this our earth is nearly that of an oblate
ellipsoid of revolution, having an equatorial diameter of
7925-65 British statute miles, and a polar one of 7899-17
such miles, ox-, neglecting the ellipticity, which is only one
290th part of the mean of these diameters—nearly that
of a globe whose diameter (the mean of these extremes)
is 7912-41 statute miles. Calculating on this datum, we
find that its superficial area (sea and land both included)
is about 197 millions of square, and its solid contents
above 259 thousand millions of cubic statute miles. Its
average density, as collected from a mean of several
independent determinations, differing much less inter se
than the evident difficulty of such an inquiry would lead
us to expect, may be taken at 5^ times that of pure water,
which is fully double that of the average material of the
earths and rocks of which its surface consists. And hence
we may compute its absolute weight, which is about 5842
trillions (5842 X 1018) of tons; while at the same time we
conclude either that the interior portions of it are to some
considerable extent metallic ; or, which is more probable,
condensed by the immense pi-essure they have to sustain,
some conception of which may be formed from this that
if a channel, only three-quarters of a square mile in sec¬
tional area, were opened from the bottom of the sea to
the centre of the earth, the whole ocean would flow
into it—taking, that is to say, the increase of density
of water (according to the experiments of Perkins) at
0-474 per cent, for every additional 100 atmospheres of
pressure, and supposing the same ratio to hold good under
all pressures. This, of course, cannot be supposed to be
really the case. One of two things must happen, either
the water would be compressed into solidity, or must be
sustained fx-om so doing by an increased elasticity, the
effect of an exceedingly high tempex-ature.
(6.) This, indeed, we have every reason to believe,
i-eally exists within the earth. Not only is it a general
fact that the thermometric temperature of the ground does
incx-ease in descending, in all regions of the globe rvher-
4 c
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
570
, , • nt it is not\ the rigidity of the elliptic shell which can only Physical
Physical ever deep mines have been sunk, or borings ex t^, ^ e e;lliptic (though fluid) supporting nucleus in one Geography.
Geography. an aVerage rate of about 1 ranr. 101 e^ery v J 1 ’ ’ *  —*  * —~ Y
an average rate ui ^i
depth; and not only do the phenomena of volcanoes and
hot springs indicate unmistakeably the still further increase
of heat beyond the reach of artificial excavation, but the
fact itself, that the mean density of the globe is so smal
as 51, must be held conclusive evidence of an excess
internal temperature. It is not by solidifying that fl
can escape from further condensation. Solids, as well as
fluids, are compressible; even the densest metals increa
in density by hammering; and though t e l'^ e aller though slowly^ under our eyes, we must look elsewhere
thJto a Ae in the axil of rotation fo, the canses of
sure of 300,000 atmospheres, much that we usually look
upon as very solid substance would not be reduced to a
small fraction of its bulk. Nor will it avail to look to
the support of the upper strata by the spherically vaulted
form of the lower, so as to relieve the internal portions ot
their load. The lateral thrust, in an equilibrated arch or
vault, vastly exceeds the weight laid upon it ; so that no¬
how can the conclusion be evaded that the internal por¬
tions of the earth, whether fluid or solid, actually do
sustain this almost inconceivable force, and we can look
to no power but the expansive force of heat which can
counteract its condensing effect.
(7.) Whatever be the intensity of that heat, and
whether the central portions of the globe be solid or fluid,
there can be no doubt that the density of the materials ot
which it consists in proceeding downwards, must follow
an increasing progression. Astronomy, grounding ^ its
conclusion on some observed facts in the moon’s motion,
otherwise inexplicable, assures us that, as a matter of fact,
it does so. This being the case in the absence of any
cause to produce disturbance (and we can perceive none
of power enough to act at great depths,1 so as to produce
upward currents), the lower strata must preserve their
level, and the whole interior of the earth, considered on
the great scale, must be in a state of absolute quiescence,
enough so at least, at all events, to prevent the central
heat' from being carried to the surface by the material
transfer of heated and molten matter. Under such
circumstances, we learn from Thermotics (see Heat), that
the escape of heat from the interior, through the external
shell of the earth out into the air, and free space, must be
of most inconceivable slowness—so much so, that no
appretiable share in producing or maintaining the warmth
of the surface, can be attributed to it, and that the
difference of climates and local temperature is the result
entirely of external influences, which it. belongs to
Meteorology to develope. (See our article on that
subject.)
(8.) From the principles of Dynamics, we. learn that
the deviation of one 290th from exact sphericity in the
earth’s figure, is a consequence of its rotation on its axis,
and is essential to the maintenance of the equilibrium of
the ocean, so that a shifting of the axis would entail the
submersion of . the existing land ; but from the same source
we learn that from natural causes (as known to us), no such
shifting ever can have taken place, or ever will; and this
deduction from theory is confirmed by Astronomy, which
shews that the latitude of places, as determined by the
most delicate observation, are absolutely invariable.
Were the earth a sphere, this might be drawn into an
argument against its internal fluidity, since the external
shell, floating on an ocean of fluid, might at first sight be
supposed capable of drifting at random from its relative
place, without a displacement of the general axis of rota¬
tion. But (even were the conclusion a valid one, which
yi/o —r— v— o / xx w
position, will act as a retaining force, and prevent any,
the smallest deviation; since, to disturb the whole exter¬
nal shell on the whole internal fluid, would be in effect to
change the figure of the latter, and call into action all the
antagonistic forces which resist such change.
(9.) If then, as Geology assures us, the continents can
be proved by unmistakeable evidence to have been sub¬
merged, and the ocean-bed laid dry, not once only, but
repeatedly, nay, that the process is actually going on,
though slowly, under our eyes, we must look elsewhere
than°to a change in the axis of rotation for the causes of
such a fact. Yet more, we learn from dynamical princi¬
ples, that all the influences exterior to the earth, by which
the waters of the sea are kept in agitation, act through
the intervention of these waters in antagonism to the
existence of the continents for the time being, and perpe¬
tually tend to degrade and destroy them, and to spread
their materials over the bed of the sea, filling up its
hollows and doing their best to bring on a state of perfect
smoothness, in which the whole earth would be covered
with sea, having a dead level for its bed. The land, then,
is maintained in its elevated position by internal force,
locally exerted, and varying its locality from, age to age,
according to laws which belong to the domain of geolo¬
gical, rather than geographical science. Whatever be
the nature and ultimate origin of that force, it is mani¬
fested to us in action from time to time in the volcano
and the earthquake, which thus we learn to regard as
very far from purely destructive arrangements in the great
scheme of nature; since, without the agency of which
they are part and parcel, there would by this time have
been no dry land whatever. The fact that all our present
continents consist of beds or strata, which have resulted
from the destruction of former ones, and the distribution
of their materials at the bottom of the sea, and of granitic
masses forcibly thrust up through those strata, disturbing
and dislocating them, leads direct to the conclusion that,
had the primeval world been constructed as it now exists,
time enough has elapsed, and force enough, directed to
that end, been in activity, to have long ago destroyed
every vestige of land, but for the reproductive efficacy ot
these internal forces bringing up continually new lands to
replace the old.
(10.) Hence, then, we come to perceive that the actual
configuration of our continents and islands, the coast-lines
of our maps, the direction and elevation of our mountain
chains, the courses of our rivers and the soundings of our
oceans, are not things primordially arranged in the con¬
struction of our globe, but results of successive and com¬
plex actions on a former state of things; that again, of
similar actions on another still more remote; and so on
till the original and really primeval state is pushed
altogether out of sight and beyond the reach even of
imagination; while, on the other hand, a similar, and, so
far as we can see, an interminable vista is opened out for
the future, by which the habitability of our planet is
secured amid the total abolition on it of the present
theatres of terrestrial life.
(11.) But the revelations of geology do not stop here.
They assure us, further, that in each of those successive
submersions and reconstructions of the continents, fresh
corresponding races of animals, and a new and different
clothing of vegetation have been introduced—the one
perishing off as the others have come into existence; nay,
that even the denizens of the ocean itself have had no
exemption from this great law of change—which, however,
1 Such as exceed 100 miles, for instance.
I
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
571
Physical has not operated either by a gradually progressive varia-
Gcography. t|on gpecieg> nor a sudden and total abolition of one
race, and introduction of another entirely new, but by a
series of overlappings, having the last portion of each in
co-existence with the earlier members of the newer series.
Higher forms of being, moreover, appear at every stage of
the process, up to the final and culminating point of
humanity, and the existing order of things. And by the
indications afforded by the exhumed remains of these suc¬
cessive creations, the geologist finds himself enabled to
co-ordinate the succession of strata, and to assign to each
its epoch in the past history of the world.
(12.) From Meteorology we learn to refer the great
system of aquatic circulation, which transfers the waters
of every one region of the ocean, in the course of time, to
every other, to the action of our Trade-winds, and their
compensating currents, the Anti-trades; themselves the
results of solar action in combination with the earth’s
rotation on its axis. By the oceanic currents thus arising,
the material carried down by rivers, or abraded by the
action of the waves (increased in their efficiency by the
extent of sloping beach, produced by the rise and fall of
the tides), is carried off and dispersed abroad, or, it may
be, collected by subsidence in deep and comparatively
motionless hollows, or in eddy-pools. There are features
in the outlines of our continents on the great scale which
bear obvious reference to some such process. Thus, the
excavation of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea
is an evident effect of the continued and powerful action
of the Gulf Stream, or rather of the general set of the
great South Atlantic current on that part of the American
coast which issues thence at present in the concentrated
form of the Gulf Stream, and which, unless counteracted by
other causes, must sooner or later cut through the Isthmus
of Darien, leaving a chain of islands like those which, on a
larger scale, serve to keep up an ideal connection of the
continent of Asia with the great mass of Australia, which
thus we may be led to consider as forming the same sort of
southern appendage, past or future, to the eastern part
of the great Europe-Asiatic continent which Africa does
to its western, and which South America does to North.
Looking only at the land in great masses ; regarding Africa
as South Europe, and Australia as South Asia, we may
still form a tolerably general conception of the distribution
of land and sea by regarding the land as chiefly collected
in the northern hemisphere in a mass which, but for the
narrow interval of Behring’s Strait (not more than 40
miles across), would be continuous, and which sends down
three great lobes into the southern, where they appear as
three projecting apexes pointing towards the south pole,
which they approach by not very unequal degrees of
remoteness, and surround at not very unequal intervals of
longitude; much as the thumb and two first fingers of the
hand in the attempt to grasp with them a globe of a
couple of inches in diameter.
(13.) But although the southern hemisphere, as com¬
pared with the northern, is more aquatic, yet, if we would
divide the globe into two hemispheres, the one of which
shall contain the greatest quantity of land, and the other
of water, it must be cut by a plane perpendicular—not to
the axis of rotation, but (singularly enough) to the diameter
passing through the south-west corner of England. A
chart of the two hemispheres projected on the horizon of
this point (or, which comes very nearly to the same
thing, on the horizon of London) exhibits the one con¬
taining all the great continental masses, except Australia
and the. small tapering extremity of South America,
while, with these exceptions, and those of the great islands
of Sumatra, Borneo, and New Guinea, the other is nearly Physical
all occupied by water. The fact is instructive, as it Geography,
proves the force by which the continents are sustained to "
be one of tumefaction, inasmuch as it indicates a situation
of the centre of gravity of the total mass of the earth
somewhat excentric, relatively to that of the spheroidal
figure of the ocean-surface—the excentricity lying in the
direction of our antipodes; and is therefore a proof of
the comparative lightness of the materials of the terrestrial
hemisphere.
(14.) As regards, then, the general configuration of the
land and its distribution over the surface of the globe, in
referring it to the causes above indicated, we have done all
that is possible in the present state of geological know¬
ledge. It must be accepted as part and parcel of the
arbitrary data of our subject. Not that speculation
has been wanting as to the ultimate origin of that con¬
figuration. The globe has been likened to a great crystal,
formed by cooling from fusion—its angles and edges
cropping out from the general spherical surface — its
great mountain chains, and the deep clefts of its sea-
valleys to the corrugations on the surface of a molten
mass formed in the act of setting, by crossing systems of
crystallization. And more recently1 a suggestion has
been put forth, attributing the forms of the continents,
not to any effect of crystallization, but to the contraction
of dimension due to the cooling of a homogeneous fluid
nucleus, modified by the resistance of the surface already
solidified to a further change of dimension; in a word, to
a crumpling or shrivelling of the exterior crust arising
from the withdrawal of support from within. It is not
easy, however, to see (though the author cited thinks
otherwise) how such a cause, acting on a homogeneous
spheroid, equably invested in every part, could result in
anything other than a further flattening inward of the
already flattened polar portions, i. e., in an increase
of external ellipticity, or, in other words, in the pro¬
duction of an annular equatorial continent—and to sup¬
pose an original difference of resistance (from which,
no doubt, undulated forms, both of meridians and par¬
allels, might so arise) is only to shift what is arbitrary
in the assumption a step farther away; since by pro¬
perly assuming the law of resistance to flexure, any
given form of crumpled surface might arise. Although,
then, it is certain that such a cause, acting under any con¬
ditions, must produce some protuberances, and, under fitting
ones, might produce those actually existing, we are still as
far from a rational explanation of the observed forms on
this, as on any other supposition.
(15.) There are, however, local peculiarities in the out¬
lines of the land where the effect of causes now in action
is distinctly traceable, as we shall hereafter take occasion
to shew when speaking of Deltas, Sand-spits, and some
other features of coast lines, evidently originating in tidal
action combined with that of currents, and, in one or two
instances (as in the Spit of Arabat), of winds. There are
other peculiarities also, of which no such account can be
rendered, but which yet, being of frequent occurrence,
would seem to point to some general cause, determining
the direction of those movements by which the rise of the
land from the sea-bed has been effected. We allude to
the very evident tendency of the outlines of coasts to run
out into peninsular projections, having a meridional direc¬
tion, or a near approach to such. Not to speak of the
three great prolongations of the northern continents into
the southern hemisphere, we may instance as cases in
point the peninsula of Hindostan, and on a smaller scale
those of Cambodia and Carpentaria, tire Malayan, Corean,
1 “ Discours sur la condition Physique de la Terre.” Par M. Jean Keynaud.
572
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical and Karaschatkan peninsulas, and those of California and
Geography. Florida Nay, even the more continental masses o
W~Y Greenland and Scandinavia (including Sweden, Norway,
and Lapland) may be cited as coming under this law.
(16.) Of the Atmosphere.—We must refer our readers to
our article on Meteorology for an account of the nature and
constitution of the atmosphere, and the general laws which
regulate its movements, and the circulation ot heat and
moisture operated by them over the surface of the globe.
The effects of these movements in producing the modili-
cations of climate prevailing in different regions, belong,
however, to the proper object of this essay, but must be
deferred until we have brought the reader acquainted wit
those features in the arrangement of the land and water
upon which these modifications depend. There are, how¬
ever, one or two points which it is right to mention here,
and first, as to the total mass of the atmosphere. It is
stated in the article referred to as being one 180,000,000th
part of the total mass of the earth. This requires correc¬
tion ; the true proportion is one 1,125,000th The absolute
weight there set down (Ilf trillions of pounds avoirdupois)
is, however, correctly computed. 2dly, We have to regret
the omission of all mention in that article of Lieutenant
Maury’s most valuable and important works,—-Zvie Win
and Current Charts, and Sailing Directions. Neither those
works, nor his more recent one on The Physical Geogi aphy
of the Sea, had then reached us. Though compelled, as
we shall hereafter find ourselves, to dissent from several
of the philosophical views put forward in the last-men¬
tioned work, we do so with the most grateful recog¬
nition of the zeal and indefatigable industry he has
exhibited in the collection and arrangement of a vast mass
of facts, and the ability and success with which he has
been able to combine them for practical use. The Wind
Charts, now in process of publication by the Board of
Trade, are founded entirely on the numerical data so col¬
lected and arranged, and will exhibit, on simple inspec¬
tion, the prevalent wind, and its average deviations, both
in direction and intensity, for each quarter of the year, in
every area of 10° in longitude and latitude over every pait
of the sea, and in particular regions, where necessary, in
closer detail.
islands as to authorize a reasonable suspicion that its ave-
•age depth is less than that of the Atlantic, where islands
Of the Sea.
(17.) Extent, Mean Depth, entire Content, and Mass of the
Sea.—From a careful measurement of its extent, as laid
down in charts, it has been concluded that the dry Inmi
occupies about 49,800,000 square statute miles. Ihis
does not include the recently-discovered tracts of land in
the vicinity of the Poles, and allowing for yet undis¬
covered land (which, however, can only exist in small
quantity), if we assign 51 millions to the land, theie will
remain about 146 millions of square miles for the extent
of surface occupied by the ocean. Its mean depth cannot,
of course, be stated with any certainty. There are phe¬
nomena in the formation and progress of the tide-wave,
and of certain other great undulatory movements, which
are incompatible with an average depth under four or
five miles. See art. 80. Most of the soundings which
have been taken far from land, and in deep water, fall,
however, far short of these limits; but as some have
attained the higher of them, and as there are numerous
instances where 20, 30, 40, and even 50 thousand feet of
line run out have failed to give distinct evidence of the
bottom having been reached, a mean depth of four miles
may be taken as one quite as likely to be beyond the
truth as within it; the more so, as a great proportion of
the vast area of the Pacific is so abundantly bestrewn with
are comparatively rare, and of which the depth has been
ascertained over no inconsiderable portion of its whole
extent. Calculating on these data, we find for the total
cubic contents of the sea, 788 millions of cubic miles, and
for its mass or weight (taking the specific gravity of sea¬
water under a pressure of two miles P0151) 3,270,600
billions of tons, or one 1786th part of the total mass of
the globe.
(18.) The most remarkable general feature which the
sea presents to the physical geographer is its continuity.
With exception of the Caspian Sea, the little Sea of Aral,
and a few other quite trifling salt-water lakes (trifling,
that is, in comparison with the whole amount ot water),
the ocean is one and undivided, throwing its arms round
the globe in such a way as to justify the notion and de¬
scription of it by the ancient tragedian, “ vaGav uDs-
eofisvog axoi/xriliu giv/Acch.” Even the most closed and
the deepest indentations which it makes into the land the
Mediterranean and the Red Sea—have deep water at their
entrance, and a sufficient breadth of opening to admit a
free communication with the general area.
(19). Composition of Sea Water.—The sea consists wholly
of salt water ; and it is this continuity of all its parts, con¬
joined with the system of circulation of its waters in
currents, caused by the regular and perpetual action of the
winds, which ensures the uniformity, or near approach to
uniformity, of its saltness in every part. As the sea
continually receives the drainage of all the land, besides
having, in the course of countless ages, washed over and
over again the disintegrated materials of successive conti¬
nents, it must of course hold in solution all the saline
ingredients capable of being separated and taken up by
such lixiviation in cold water; in fact, in greater or less
quantity, every soluble substance in nature such, at
least, whose existences in extremely dilute solution are
not incompatible. By far the larger proportion, however,
consists of chloride of sodium (common salt), after which
occur chlorides and sulphates of magnesia and lime in
some considerable abundance. And in much more minute,
but yet appretiable quantity, occur salts of potash and
ammonia, the iodide and bromide of sodium, carbonate ot
lime, silica, and other matters too numerous to mention.
The sulphate and carbonate of lime, and the silica, how¬
ever minute the percentage of the two latter, are yet oi
vast importance in the economy of animated nature, as
furnishing all the lime and silica out of which the shells
of Mollusca, the structures of the coral and other similar
insects, and the shells and carapaces of the siliceous infu¬
soria, &c., are derived. But besides these saline, and
earthy ingredients, metallic salts in excessively minute
quantity have been shewn to exist in sea-watei. t us,
copper is present to such an extent, that clean and polishe
iron dragged in the wake of a ship, during even a short
voyage, has been observed to come up with a film of that
metal precipitated on it.t Silver also is found in combi¬
nation Avith the old and worn coppering of ships to such
amount as to make it worth while to extract it. It has
been computed from some analyses of such copper, com¬
pared with the total distance run through by the ship,
and the time of its remaining attached, that at least two
millions of tons of silver are thus held in solution in the
whole ocean.
(20.) The mean specific gravity of sea water taken up
at a small depth (a few feet) below the surface (so as to
be out of reach of the immediate influence of recent rain),
reduced to 62° Fahr., may be stated at 1-0275, which
1 Query, wlietlier iron so dragged in a ship’s wake might not take up a portion of the copper dissolved off the ship s bottom.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
573
Physical experiment shows to correspond to a total percentage of
Geography, saline contents, irrespective of the difference of the ingre-
dients, of about 3*505, so that it is incorrect to state, as
some have done, that the saline contents do not add to
the bulk. This of course is to be understood of water
taken up in open sea, out of reach of the influence of
rivers, icebergs, &c., which produce local variations to
which we shall presently recur. Beyond such influences,
however, there are meteorological causes in action which
produce a perceptible deviation, dependent on geogra¬
phical situation, from the exact average. Thus, in those
portions of the ocean, on either side of the equator, swept
by the trade-winds, especially towards their northern and
southern limits, the saltness of the surface water may be
expected to be, and is in feet found, somewhat in excess
of what prevails either on the equator on the one hand,
or beyond the tropics on the other. For these winds
arrive from higher latitudes deficient both in heat and
moisture (Meteorology, art. 111), and take up both in their
progress towards the equator, while they return little or
none of the fresh water so taken up, in the form of rain,
till their arrival at and near the equator itself. There,
however, they at once precipitate a large proportion of
the water so absorbed, a process which, being in constant
operation, must in some degree freshen the surface. Thus,
Captain King, in his South American Survey in 1829-30,
found the maxima of specific gravity in the Atlantic to
occur in latitudes 27° N. and 20° S., the mean result for
both being 1*02808 at 62° F., while in the equatorial
region, from 5° N. to 5° S., the mean of his results is only
T02723. lluschenberger and Porter, as reported by Maury,
found the Atlantic maxima in 17° N. and 17° S., and
in 20° N. and 17° S. respectively. The mean of all gives
18° N. and S. So also, in the Pacific, Captain Beechey,
in his survey of Behring’s Straits in the Blossom (1825-8),
found the maxima to occur in latitudes 22° N. and 20°
S., their mean being 1*02937 (reduced to 62°),1 that of
the equatorial zone being 1*02791. On the other hand,
beyond these limits in the ultra-tropical regions, where
the anti-trade winds prevail, the whole of their residual
moisture is discharged in rain or snow, while at the same
time, owing to the habitually lower temperature of these
regions, evaporation from the sea-surface is very much
diminished. And, accordingly, the results of both King
and Beechey indicate a slight though very perceptible
progressive diminution of specific gravity in proceeding
towards either pole—the mean of Captain Beechey’s results
between 55° and 60° of both north and south latitudes
in the Pacific giving 1*02580, and those of Captain King,
in the corresponding region of the South Atlantic, 1*02551
—results on the whole in excellent accordance with each
other, and which leave no room for doubt as to the gene¬
ral fact in question.
(21.) At the mouths of great rivers the sea is often
superficially freshened to a considerable distance from
shore. This is the case with the Amazon River to such
an extent, that fresh water may be taken up from the
sea surface when out of sight of land, and the sea itself is
rendered sensibly less saline at two or three hundred miles
from its mouth. At the time of the inundations of the
Nile also, the water is perceptibly freshened out of sight
of land.
(22.) In the Euxine, and still more in the Sea of Azof,
the supply of fresh water from the rivers feeding them is
greater than their waste by evaporation, and their com¬
munication with the Mediterranean being restricted by
the long and narrow channels of the Bosphorus and the Physical
Dardanelles, out of which a current always sets in calm Geography,
weather, they have become materially fresher than the
general average. The Euxine water has a specific gravity
of 1*01410 ; and the Sea of Azof, which is shallow and of
small extent, and receives a considerable river (the Don),
probably less. So also in the Baltic, which is a shallow
sea communicating with the main ocean by a shallow and
obstructed channel, the specific gravity varies from 1 *00476
at Tunaberg, to 1*020437 off the Scaw Point, at the
entrance of the Cattegat—[Thomson].
(23.) With respect to the Mediterranean, it has been
held, on the authority of Halley, that its evaporation is
materially greater than the extra supply from its rivers,
and that, therefore, it must be increasing in saltness by
the continual indraught of sea water from the Atlantic,
unless relieved (as has also been supposed) by an under¬
current of salter and heavier water flowing outwards.
This opinion has recently been called in question by an
authority entitled to every respect; but from the best con¬
sideration we have been able to give the subject, we feel
compelled to acquiesce in Halley’s conclusion. A few
words will suffice to explain the grounds of our conviction
on this point. The total area of the Mediterranean,
Euxine, and Azof seas, amounts to 1,150,000 square miles,
and may be regarded nearly enough for the purpose of
such a calculation, as traversed medially by the isotherm
of 63°. Now, this is the mean temperature of July at
Tottenham, at which, for that month, the observations of
Howai'd assign an average evaporation of 4*111 inches,
which, continued over the year, Avould give 49*33 inches.
Dalton’s determination for Liverpool for the same month
is 5*11 in., corresponding to 61*33 in. per annum. The
observed annual evaporation at Marseilles exceeds 85
Paris inches (Kdmtz, i. 446). So that we shall be quite
Avithin limits in taking 50 inches per annum as the average
evaporation over the Avhole surface in question. As re¬
gards the quantity restored by rain, Palermo,2 as an
insular station, well situated about the middle breadth of
the Mediterranean, gives 22*3 in. for the fall of rain, Avhich
may be taken as the average supply from that source,
leaving 27*7 in., or in round numbers, 28 in. for the
excess°of evaporation. This, computed as extending over
the Avhole area, gives 508 cubic miles of fresh water
annually abstracted.
(24.) The Nile delivers into the sea 101,000 cubic feet
of water per second (Talabot) on the average of the whole
year, which gives an annual contribution of fresh Avater
from this river alone = 21*653 cubic miles. So that, eAren
on the extravagant supposition that each of the other
principal rivers (the Danube, Dnieper, Don, Rhone,
Dniester, Ebro, and Po) contribute as much as the Nile,
we should still have only 173 cubic miles of liver supply,
leaving 335 to be furnished from the Atlantic.
(25.) In point of fact, the current which sets in at the
Straits (estimated by Admiral Smyths as 4 miles in
breadth, with an average velocity of 2£ miles per hour)
would carry in, supposing it to extend 30 fathoms only in
depth, 2986 cubic miles per annum, of which it is there¬
fore past a doubt that at least 2000 must flow out again in
the form of an under-current (no regular lateral return
currents being observed to exist). This enormous inter¬
change of water is sufficient perfectly to account for the
observed fact that the Mediterranean is not sensibly salter
than the ocean, and not materially so at great depths
than at the surface, though, on arranging the results
1 Captain Beechey’s results (where reduced by him) are given for 60°, and are corrected by 0 0002(Ho bring them to 62 . _
J A mean of eleven stations at points surrounding the whole of the Mediterranean, as reported by Admiral bmyth, gives 23 05 inches
* Mediterranean, p. 160.
PHYSICAL G E O G E A P H Y
574
Physical recorded by the last-named eminent liy|l'“8™P?‘earae“
Geography, groups according to depth, a very peicept b
’ .   apparent. Thus we find (setting apart the last result as
anomalous, and as a case in which by bare possibih^,
a submarine brine spring may have been struck p )
By .
2 observations.
4
3
1
Specific Gravity.
1-0271
1-0285
1-0297
1-1288 ??
At depths from
0 to 8 fathoms
34 „ 60
250 „ 450
(26.) The disproportion between evaporation and fresh¬
water supply is carried to its maximum in t ie_ e >
where rain scarcely ever falls, into w nc i no r1^ ’
and throughout whose whole extent an excessive tempe a
ture always prevails. The evaporation Jmen^com-
puted at 165 cubic miles per annum, so that bub for an
interchange of water with the Persian Gulf, similar to
that which takes place between the Mediterranean an^
the Atlantic, only more intense, it could no c ,
speedily reduced to the condition of an almost saturated
brine. •
(27.) In several places in the Mediterranean, springs
of fresh water, nay, even subterraneous rivers, well up to
the surface from considerable depths. Many such aie
enumerated by Admiral Smyth ; but the most remarkable
is Anavolo, in the Sinus Argolicus, between Knveri and
Astros, where a body of fresh water fifty feet in diameter
rises with such force at a quarter of a mile from the
shore, as to produce a visible convexity of surface, and to
disturb the sea for several hundred feet round.—(Peake,
Travels in the Morea, ii. 480). In the Gulf of Xagua,
south-west of the Port of Batabano, on the south coast ot
Cuba, a similar instance occurs (Humboldt, Aspect, p.
233), and others are said to exist in the Pacific, among
the Sandwich Islands.
(28.) In the Polar Seas, too, there are extensive regions
where large accretions of fresh ice, from snow or glaciers
melting in summer, render the surface-water ^ compara¬
tively fresh. But these are too obvious exceptions to the
general fact to need more than a passing notice.
(29.) The following is given by M. Eegnault {Chim.
ii. 193) as a mean result of the analysis of sea water.
Under the head of “loss” may he comprised the various
ingredients which exist in too small quantity for distinct
separation, except in operations conducted on a very large
scale.
Saline ingredients
3.505.
AV clt/GT • . • • • * *
' Chloride of Sodium.
„ Magnesium
„ Potassium
=-j Sulphate of Lime .
„ Magnesia
Carbonate of Lime .
Bromide of Magnesium
Loss (including Iodides, Silica, &c.) .
96-470
2-700
0-360
0-070
0-140
0-230
0-003
0-002
0-025
100-000
(30.) Colour and Phosphorescence of the Sea. The sea is
only purely blue in the open ocean, or in very deep watei,
out of the fouling influence of rivers, the washing, o
coasts, or such currents as drift along mud and impurities.
When clear of all such causes of discoloration, a white
object, as a plate thrown overboard, is seen to become
bluer and bluer as it sinks. The light illuminating the
Grotto of Capri, in the Bay of Naples, which is mainly
derived from reflexion at the bottom of the water, and
which has traversed many yards of sea-water, is very
blue. This colour is common to the sea and to lakes
of pure fresh water. In the little lake of Chede (now
filled up by the fall of a mountain), the blue colour ot the
water used to he very apparent at a few yards in depth.
So also of the water in the Grotto of Yaucluse. It will
hardly be contended that in these instances the colom is ^V^l
owing either to salt, which is insisted on by some as the
cause of the colour of the ocean, or by cuprate of am¬
monia, which, on the strength of the discovery of copper
in sea water, has recently been suggested. I he intense
blue colour of the Bhone, where it issues from the Lake
of Geneva (far surpassing that of the bluest sea), is alone
sufficient to negative both these explanations. Like the
blue colour of the sky, the explanation is yet to seek
unless we are content with the very simple, hut somewhat
doubtful one, that in both cases it is an absorptive colour
proper to either element.
(31 ) In this view of the subject, wherever the sea is
otherwise than fully and purely blue, we may be sure it
is by reason of solid matter held in suspension. In many
instances this is obviously the case. The surface water
both in the Indian and Pacific Oceans is frequent y
coloured in patches as far as the eye can reach, ot ret,
brown, or white, the water of which, when taken up and
carefully examined, is found to be full of ammalculse ot
the colours in question. On the shores of the Red Sea a
red matter is thrown up, which Ehrenberg has found to
he of vegetable origin. Along the coast of China, and
especially in the Yellow Sea, spots of that colour are said
to he not unfrequent. Captain Kingman, in lat. 8 46 S.,
Ion. 105° 30'E., passed through a tract of water Zo miles
in breadth and of unknown length, so full of minute (an
some not very minute) phosphorescent animal organisms,
as to present the aspect (at night) of a boundless plain
covered with snow. Some of these animals were ‘ ser¬
pents” of six inches in length, of transparent gelatinous
consistency, and very luminous. Such tracts by ay-
light appear white, not by reason of light emitted from
the insects, but of the sun’s light reflected by their film>
and all hut aqueous substance. (C/lBmst, Naut.Mag. 18o4.)
(32 ) The Phosphorescence of the Ocean is a phenomenon
which strikes all who witness it with wonder and admi¬
ration. It prevails largely through the whole extent ot
the tropical seas, and proceeds from a great variety of
marine organisms—some soft and gelatinous, some minute
Crustacea, &c., of the genera Cancer and others. They
mostly shine when excited by a blow, or by agitation of
the water, as when a fish darts along, or oar dashes, or in
the wake of a ship as the water closes on its track, in
the latter case are often seen what appear to he large
lamps of light rising from under the keel, and floating
out to the surface, apparently of many inches m diameter.
These we have never succeeded in catching, though w
feel assured to have seen them enter the net (ot Uriing »
patent lace) dragged along for them, so that the light
must have emanated from a creature small enough to
escape through the meshes. One of the most remarkable
of these luminous creatures is a species of pyrosoma, a
tough cartilaginous hag or muff-shaped ho y, o moie
than an inch in length, which, when thrown down on
deck, bursts into a glow so strong as to appear like a
lump of white-hot iron.
(33.) One of the most curious phases ot phosphores¬
cence which we have witnessed (and which we have not
met with elsewhere described) is the appearance on t e
surface of calm or hut little agitated water, of luminous
spaces of several square feet in area, shining fitfully, an
hounded by rectilinear, or nearly rectilinear, outlines, piesent-
ing angular forms, across which the light flashes as i
propagated rapidly along the surface.
(34.) Depth and Form of the Bottom of the Sea. Oi the
average depth of the ocean we have already spoken. . Ot
particular districts in the great ocean, nothing very distinct
can he stated, except in respect of the North Atlantic, or
the Atlantic basin, in which soundings enough have been
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
575
Physical
Geography.
obtained to enable something like a rude chart of level
lines to be constructed, and of which a summary account
maybe stated as follows. We shall suppose level lines
corresponding to depths of 1000, 2000, 3000, 4000, and
5000 fathoms to be laid down, which will therefore trace
out what would be the coast lines of continents and islands,
were the sea to sink in level, successively by these several
quantities. The first of these lines (that of 1000 fathoms)
corresponds pretty closely in its general form with the
existing coast line, or rather with what that coast line would
be, supposing on the American side the Caribbean Sea and
the Gulf of Mexico filled in, so as to carry the continent out
to the extreme verge of the Bahamas and Caribbee
Islands; and supposing the irregularities of the North
American coast smoothed off by carrying out the coast line
clear round Nova Scotia, to include Newfoundland with the
Great Bank ; and supposing, on the European and African
side, the Bay of Biscay and the British and Irish Chan¬
nels also filled in. From the coast lines so arising, the
first level line in question hardly anywhere deviates more
than 120 geographical miles, (60 to the degree). Nor
does it appear that the sea-line so altered would give rise
to any considerable new masses of land, but only a very
moderate extension of the Azores, and a very trifling
one of Madeira, the Canaries, and the Cape Verde
Islands.
(35.) The level line of 2000 fathoms along the east coast
also conforms very nearly to the outline of the European and
African continents, taking in the Canary and Cape Verde
Islands, never departing more than about 250 geographi¬
cal miles from the present coast, except in the case of
the last-named islands, but clinging closer to it along the
European than the African coast. On the western side
this level line, from 10° of south latitude northwards,
accompanies the coast (modified as above) for the most
part considerably within the same limit of distance as on
the eastern (the descent being most precipitous at the edge
of the Caribbean Sea), until we reach a point about
lat. 43°N., long. 43° W.,1 where it quits the neighbourhood
of the existing coasts, and suddenly turns southwards,
running in a meridional direction for 16° of latitude, and
forming so much of the western boundary of a great sub¬
marine table-land which fills nearly the whole bed of the
northern part of the Atlantic basin, and of which, if laid
dry, the peak of the Azores would be the culminating
point. Were that the case, we should see a lobe of land,
(following, singularly enough, the general tendency of
configuration pointed out in art. 15, not very unlike
Italy in form, extending southward to the tropic of
Cancer, leaving a channel of sea of about 500 miles
broad between it and the eastern continent, and connected
at its south-western extremity with a great triangular
mass like Sicily in shape, two sides of the triangle hav¬
ing a general conformity to the present outline of the
American continents, so as to leave a channel of about
800 or 900 miles in breadth on that side, separating it from
the coast of the United States.
(36.) It is this submarine continent or plateau which,
happily for the communication between the old and new
world, appears as if provided to receive the lines of tele¬
graphic wire which will one day bring America into
intellectual contact with Europe.2 From Cape Race, in
Newfoundland, to Cape Clear, in Ireland, it has been
ascertained to form a continuous platform of nearly 400
miles in breadth, at the depth of about 2000 fathoms,
which has been sounded and surveyed for that purpose
Its surface is covered with broken shells of foraminated
and diatomic organisms, among Avhich the cable might
find secure lodgment, and in all probability become Physical
ultimately incrusted and imbedded in their mass. Geography.
(37.) Were the Atlantic to sink another thousand
fathoms (to the 3000 fathoms level line), the whole of the
European and African side of its bed would be laid dry.
The table-land spoken of would form an extension of the
European continent. The British Islands, and the north
of Europe, would become united with the Labrador coast,
and nothing would remain of the ocean but a compara¬
tively narrow channel, following at no great distance the
present line of the American continent—reduced to very
slender dimensions at the Caribbees, and thence opening
out into a bay or great salt lake, occupying that part of
the area opposite the United States, and extending between
Bermuda and the southern edge of the Bank of Newfound¬
land. The central and deepest part of this lake would
seem to be a long valley running nearly east and west
from about 46° to 67° west longitude, along which a
depth of from 25,000 to 30,000 feet at present exists.
(38.) By the first step in the subsidence of the ocean
we have been supposing, the Baltic would be laid dry—
its depth nowhere exceeding 1100 feet—as would also the
German Ocean, the British and Irish Channels, and the
Bay of Biscay ; but the Mediterranean would remain as a
great salt lake, a bar extending across the Gut of Gib¬
raltar, at about 900 feet in depth, inside of which the
water deepens so rapidly, that between Gibraltar and
Ceuta, where the breadth of the channel does not exceed
12 miles, the depth is already 6000 feet; 90 miles east
of Malta, we find a depth of 15,000; between Rhodes
and Alexandria, 9900 ; and between the latter part and
Candia, 10,200; so that the next step in our ideal
descent of the general sea level would lay the whole bed
of the Mediterranean dry. We see, then, that the Medi¬
terranean fills an immensely deep and comparatively a
precipitous chasm, which would almost seem to have been
the effect of subsidence towards the south, contempo¬
raneous with and complementary to the upheaval of the
great line of mountainous tracts which run along the
whole extent of south Europe.
(39.) The depth of the Arctic Ocean is probably not
great. From Baron Wrangel’s explorations we learn that
over very extensive tracts of the northern coast of East
Siberia the water shoals so gradually, that at upwards of
150 miles from land the depth is only fourteen or fifteen
fathoms, and the broken character of the northern coast
of America, with its labyrinth of islands, and tortuous
channels, affords a similar indication. In the axis of
Baffin’s Bay, however, a few days’ sail from Finskernaes,
in Greenland, Dr Kane found 1900 fathoms.
(40.) Of the Pacific, too little is known to afford any
ground for forming even the most general notion of the form
of the level lines of its bottom. The islands scattered over
it spring up, for the most part, from very deep water, and
soundings are said to have been obtained of enormous
depth, even greater than five miles. The deepest recorded
by Maury was obtained by Lieutenant Brooke, (with a
deep-sea sounding apparatus of peculiar and simple con¬
struction, bringing up specimens of the bottom), in 58° 46'N.,
168° 18' E., being 2700 fathoms. The greater interest
therefore attaches to an estimate of its average depth in the
section across its whole breadth from Simolo, in Japan,
to San Francisco, in California, along the parallel of
34° N. latitude, derived by Professor Bache (Report of
Superintendent of the U. S. Coast Survey, 1855, p. 346),
from observations which can certainly be depended upon
of the time taken to traverse it by the great waves of
December 23, 1854, caused by the terrible earthquake
1 All our longitudes reckon from Greenwich.
2 The thing is done ! (Aug. 1858).
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
570
Physical which ravaged Japan on that day. Several of these
Geography. waveg were propagated all across the Pacific, and were
recorded on the self-registering tide-gauges ot San Diego
and San Francisco, on the Californian coast. A com¬
parison of the observed times of arrival so_ recorded with
the times at which the waves took place in Japan, leads
to the conclusion that a wave 217 miles in bre^lth.f'^
be propagated across the interval in question (4527 miles;
at an average rate of 6m l per minute, from which, by
the theory of waves, Professor Bache concludes a mean
depth of 2365 fathoms, or 14,190 feet.
(41.) In the “ Coral Sea,” 13 S., 162 E., a depth of 21o0
fathoms, with a specimen of the bottom, was obtained by
Lieutenant Brooke. The same ingenious officer reports a
sounding of 7040 fathoms in the Indian Ocean (42,240
feet, or exactly eight miles!), but under circumstances
authorizing considerable doubt as to the correctness ot the
result It deserves remark, that off the mouth ot the
Hoogly river, in the Bay of Bengal, there exists a sudden
and deep depression in the ocean bed called “ The Bottom¬
less Pit,” an epithet, however, relative only to the ordi¬
nary “deep-sea lines” of the old merchant vessels, yet ot
importance as occurring just where the lighter part of the
Jill UUX   j  J r
sediment of the Ganges is carried out to sea, and tor
which it serves as a receptacle.
(42.) Among the most interesting results of the mode
of sounding adopted by Lieutenant Brooke, may be con¬
sidered the evidence procured by it of the nature of the
deposits in actual process of formation in the tranquil
depths of the ocean, from a microscopic examination of
the specimens procured. Thus, the specimens brought
up in the Coral Sea are found to consist chiefly of the
siliceous spiculae of sponges, with a few other siliceous
and some calcareous infusorial shells ; while over the
basin of the North Atlantic, over the whole extent of the
telegraph plateau, and the wide area covered by the ex¬
pansion of the Gulf Stream, the bottom appears to consist
exclusively of the remains of delicate calcareous exuviae
of animalcules of the foraminiferous family, in a state of
such perfect preservation as proves them to have suffered
no abrasion, but to have been quietly deposited, on the
death of the animals, from the surface-water which served
them for a habitat during life. Thus we see here going
on the formation of a cretaceous deposit exactly analo¬
gous to our own chalk formations, which, the researches
of Ehrenberg and others have also found to consist
almost exclusively of the shells, and fragments of shells, of
minute infusoriae. In some places, too, volcanic ashes
and pumice, in fine powder, are found the product,
doubtless, of wind-drifted ashes bestrewing the surface.
(43.) Subdivisions of the Sea.—The ocean separates the
globe into two principal continental masses, which our
insular position between them entitles us to designate as
the Eastern and Western Continents. I bey are separated
on one side by the Atlantic Ocean, which extends north
and south, in all probability, from pole to pole, and which
is continued across the north pole, and through the Arctic
Ocean or north polar basin, from which it is hardly
separated by any well-defined line of demarcation, the
interval between the Greenland coast and that of Norway
alone being nearly 500 miles, not to speak of the channel
communications leading out of Davis’ Strait—while to and
probably over the south poleitpresents nothing but open sea.
The separation of the continents on the other side is effected
by the Pacific Ocean, Avhich, but for the narrow com¬
munication with the Arctic Sea by Behring’s Strait, would
com* to be considered as a great bay, bounded on
eastern side by the whole coast line of North and South
America, and on the western by that of Asia, considered
as prolonged by a chain of great islands to the Australian
continent. Narrow and shallow as this channel of com-
munication is—not exceeding 30 miles in breadth where
narrowest, and 25 fathoms in its deepest channel—it is yet
important in the economy of nature, inasmuch as it allows
a portion of the circulating water from a warmer region
to find its way into the polar basin, aiding thereby not
only to mitigate the extreme rigour of the polar cold, but to
prevent, in all probability, acontinual accretion of ice, which
else mi"ht rise to a mountainous height. Nothing, indeed,
can be more remarkable than the way in which all direct
equatorial circulation is barred by the Isthmuses of Darien
and Suez on the one hand, while on the other the polai
communication is left free. One of the reasons adduced
in support of the early, but erroneous, opinion that the
figure of the earth is that of an oblong spheroid, was drawn
from a crude notion of the continued accumulation ot ice
and snow over the polar regions, which it was argue
must result in an indefinite prolongation of the earth s polai
axis. The actual form of the continent, however, Preven js
any such consequence from taking place, and it is probable
that the melting of the ice where it rests on the sea, to¬
gether with the bodily drifting away of detached masses,
form, in the long average, a compensation to the effect o
continued precipitation from the atmosphere.
(44.) Another such vast bay or gulf, but without any
northern outlet (the Red Sea and Persian
barred), is the Indian Ocean, limited westwards by the
African and Arabian coasts, northwards by the south
coast of Asia—the peninsula of Hindostan breaking i
into two deep and nearly symmetrical indentations and
eastwards by the broken masses of Sumatra, Java, and
the Indian Archipelago, and by the west coast of
(45 ) Each of these great bodies of water communicates
without any natural barrier-line with the Southern Ocean
which probably extends across the pole beneath the grea
icy barrier discovered by Sir James Ross. If, there oie,
we would distinguish between them, we must assume arbi¬
trary lines of demarcation. On the north, the arc ic
circle, which passes within a degree of the narrowest part
of Behring’s Strait, forms a very appropriate limit to t
“ Arctic Ocean.” The Antarctic Ocean has no such
natural limit, but under the wider designation of the
“ Southern Ocean ” may be taken to embrace all the area
limited by great circles drawn between Capellooi ,ti
Cape of Good Hope, and Bass’ Strait, so as to constitute
these localities the southern termini of the Atlantic, Pacific,
and Indian Oceans. This appears a simpler division than
that which runs meridians up from the three capes (
two last named and Cape Pillar) to the Antarctic Circle
so as to form a purely imaginary Antarctic Ocean, and
to constitute a Southern Ocean, equally imagma.y as
its limits, between the Indian and Antarctic.
(46.) Each of the three principal oceans has subordi¬
nate seas, specially marked out by distinguishing ea uies.
Besides the Mediterranean and the Baltic, on t ie mo
pean side, the Atlantic opens out, on the •^[ienca1nT1in i0
the great bays which bear the names of Baffin an u -
son, both heavily encumbered with ice ; the former o
which communicates by a labyrinth ot intricate an ice
obstructed passages with the Polar Sea, and is the source
from whence are continually drifting southwards t ose
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
577
Physical floating icebergs which form one of the chief dangers of
Geography. Atlantic navigation. On the other hand, the deep inden-
tation of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea,
nearly land-locked by the peninsula of Florida and the
long chain of the West India Islands, forms a basin of
hot water, having a higher mean temperature than any
other oceanic district.
(47.) The mass of islands which sketches out the con¬
nection between the Asiatic and Australian continents, is
continued northward along the west coast of the Pacific,
forming a loose and broken barrier between the main ocean
and the east coast of Asia, and breaking it up into compart¬
ments more or less land-locked by them, and by the singular
system of meridional peninsulas (of Kamtschatka, Corea,
Cambodia, and Malaya) known as the seas of Ochotsck
and Japan, the Yellow Sea, and the China Sea. The
difference in character in this respect between the western
coasts in the two oceans is extremely remarkable.
(48.) On the other hand, their eastern coasts are both
characterized by an equally striking absence of features
of this nature. With exception of the Gulf of California,
there is no approach to any deep and extensive land¬
locked indentation along the whole line of western
America, nor does any exist on that of west Africa, or
along the European coast from the Gut of Gibraltar to
the British Channel.
(49.) Temperature of the Sea.—The mean temperature
of the sea surface, when undisturbed by currents transfer¬
ring water from a hotter to a colder zone, or vice versa,
is of course nearly that of the air above it; but on de¬
scending below the surface, a most remarkable law pre¬
vails. In very deep water all over the globe a uniform
temperature of 39° Fahr. is found to prevail, while above
the level when that temperature is first reached, the ocean
may be considered as divided into three great regions or
zones—an equatorial and two polar. In the former of
these, warmer, in the latter colder,water is found at the
surface. The lines of demarcation are of course the two
isotherms of 39° mean annual temperature. The depth
at which this temperature is found is about 7200 feet at
the equator, and 4500 in the highest accessible latitudes.
The medial line of maximum surface temperature is far
from following the exact line of the equator, being de¬
flected by the effect of currents, and in the case of the
Indian Ocean by the proximity of heated land, as the
following tabulated trace of its course, indicating its
greatest deviations from, and intersections with, or near
approach to the equator, will shew for each of the three
great oceanic regions.
Longi¬
tude.
Deg.
9 E.
0
46 W.
60 W.
84 W.
90 W.
Lati¬
tude.
Deg.
0
1 N.
3 N.
10 N.
20 N.
28 N.
Tempe¬
rature.
80
82’6
84
83
881
PAciric.
Longi¬
tude.
Deg.
82 W.
97 W.
135 W.
152 W.
180
140 E.
130 E.
125 E.
Lati¬
tude.
Deg.
2 N.
7 N.
2 N.
0
7 S.
0 +
0
8 S.
Tempe¬
rature.
84-7
81-7
83-1
847
847
Indian Ocean.
Longi¬
tude.
Deg.
120 E.
104 E.
90 E.
63 E.
45 E.
Lati¬
tude.
Deg.
8 S.
0
9 N.
10 N.
12 N.
Tempe¬
rature.
84-6
85
86
86
86
(50.) Universally, the temperature of the sea surface,
for the reasons explained in Meteorology, is far less
variable than on land, and there exist vast regions (as Physical
may be seen on inspection of the above table) over which Geography,
an almost absolute uniformity in this respect prevails.
The determination of the mean temperature of these
regions to the extreme of precision, is a practical problem of
the highest importance.
(51.) Currents of the Ocean.—Every wind that sweeps
the ocean drives along before it the surface-water. The
impulse given is horizontal, and proportional to, or at least
increasing, in some ratio of the relative motion of the air,
a ratio probably higher than that of the simple difference
of absolute motions, by reason of the universal roughness
of surface consequent on the action of the wind. If the
difference of motion be due to an excess of diurnal rota¬
tion on the part of the sea, it is the water which (driven
against the air) gives out momentum to the latter; if that
of the air be in excess, it receives it from that element.
In either case, the effect is the same; the two are brought
nearer to a community of direction and velocity by their
mutual friction.
(52.) The trade-winds occupy two belts on the earth’s
surface on either side of the equator, which are limited on
the equatorial side by a belt of calm air (the movement of
which is upward, and in which no prevailing tendency,
east or west, is pei’ceivable). On the polar they are limited
by two belts of comparative calm, with uncertain and
variable winds, which for our present purpose we may
consider as nearly coincident with the tropics. Over the
belt of equatorial calms, the N.E. and S.E. trades, reduced
to meridional directions by the eastward frictional impidse of the
earth's rotation (Basil Hall, Fragments of Voyages and Tra¬
vels, 2d Series, i. 162), meet, and to a certain small extent
perhaps commingle, in their upward movement, which,
however, can only be the case with those portions of air
which actually attain the medial line, or approach very
near it; for, as the region of calms extends to four or five
degrees on either side of that line, the greater part by far
of either indraft will rise on its own side, and must of ne¬
cessity be turned over towards the pole of its own deno¬
mination, and return, as gn upper current, by a tract
precisely the reverse of that of its arrival.3 On the other
hand, over the region of tropical calms, a portion of the
descending air of the upper current, where it first strikes
the earth, is dragged back into the tropical circulation,
while the rest goes forward to form the Antitrades (or
S.W. and N.W. winds) of the temperate and polar zones,
which, as prevalent winds, with more or less frequent
interruptions, according to local circumstances, occupy
both the extra-tropical regions.
(53.) In obedience to the trade-winds, a drift of the
intertropical Surface-water is produced, which tends to
carry it in a S.W. and N.W. direction respectively towards
the equator, where the meridional components of the two
drifts neutralize each other, and their westerly components
conspire to produce an equatorial current setting west¬
wards, the borders of which will be stronger than the
medial line, because the existing cause is there most ener¬
getic. The general current resulting from the concentra¬
tion of the drift will therefore bifurcate where it meets or
nears the land, the northern portion turning northward,
and the southern southward.
(54.) In the Atlantic, this bifurcation takes place some¬
what south of the equator, off Cape St. Roque. The
equatorial current is there not very powerful; but in its
progress along the north-east coast of South America, it
1 In the Gulf of Mexico, off New Orleans;it is evident that this is an exceptional result. . . ...
2 Such, at least, is the ordinary, and, as appears to us, the correct dynamical view of the subject, and this is one ot the points on wlncli
we have the misfortune to differ from Lieutenant Maury, who conceives that the south-east and north-east trades cross as they near the
equator, and pursue their course in the upper regions of the. atmosphere towards the poles oi contrary denominations. I he point is irrele¬
vant to the matter actually in hand, but it will lie necessary to recur to it when we come to speak of the distribution of moisture.
VOL. XVII. 4 V
578
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
Physical is reinforced by the whole amount of S. W. drift setting
Geography, towards that shore from the North Atlantic, an *
    thereby forced into the Caribbean Sea and through the
Channel of Yucatan; and having made the circnit of he
Gulf of Mexico, issues through the Straits of 1 lorida,
clinging close in shore round Cape Florida, whence i
issues as the Gulf Stream in a majestic current upwards
of 30 miles broad, 2200 feet deep, with an average velocity
of four miles an hour, and a temperature of 8(> Pain, xi
is to the continual scouring of this recess, by so vas a
torrent of perfectly pure water from the main ocean, tlia
the extreme and crystalline transparency and intensely
blue colour of the Caribbean Sea is owing—a transpa¬
rency such as to allow every object at the bottom to be
clearly seen in 30 fathom water. „ por)fl
(55.) From its issue through the Narrows off Cape
Florida it is darted off into the main ocean, where it ta <es
up a course (as Lieut. Maury has well pointed out) con¬
formable (in a general way) to the easterly impulse given
by its excess of diurnal rotation, in passing from a lower
to a higher latitude, and which drives it away from the
American coast in an almost direct N.E. direction towards
the opening of the Arctic Sea, between Spitzbergen and
Norway. Arriving in colder water, it becomes relatively
buoyant, and thins off in depth (which has been, by a
strange perversion of language, called “ running up hill ),
spreading itself gradually in width, until its motion at
length, conspiring with that of the south-west Antitrades
of the extra-tropical latitudes, it is swept on, partly by
what may yet remain of its original impulse, but mainly
by their aid, as a drift-current (Stark) of moderately warm
water (51°), into the North Sea. There can be little doubt
that a portion of this warm stream enters the Arctic Ocean,
and, sweeping round its basin, reissues in the form of a
cold current between Spitzbergen and Greenlandaftei
skirting the coast of which latter, it unites with a similar
current3, also running southward, through Baffin’s Bay
(and which probably conveys the whole of the water
entering at Behring’s Strait), and forms a cold stream,
which descends along the Labrador coast, and that of the
United States, till it becomes extinct, or re-enters the cir¬
culation at the point where the Gulf Stream quits the
(56.) It is about the 42d or 43d parallel of N. lati¬
tude that this process of thinning off and superficial
extension may be said to have dispersed, and, in fact,
destroyed, the Gulf Stream as such, since at this, point, or
rather over this region, a large portion of its watei,
strongly marked by excess of temperature (79 -73 ),
curves round to the eastward, and is then again deflected
southward, forming an eddy or return current, which
follows the bend of the great northern protuberance of
Africa, but at some distance from the coast, till it . again
rejoins the equatorial waters. In the interior of this vast
circuit, about the tropic of Cancer, and forming a floating
island of an elongated oval form, between the 20th and
C5th degree of W. long., and the 1 8th and 28th of N.
lat., occurs that extraordinary accumulation of rootless
sea-weed, known as the gulf-weed, or Sargasso, consisting
almost entirely of the Fucus natans and Macrocystis pyrifera,
and affording a home to myriads of molluscs and Crustacea.
(57.) The dynamics of the Gulf Stream have of late, in
the work of Lieut. Maury already mentioned, been made
a subject of much (we cannot but think misplaced) wonder,
as if there could be any possible ground for doubting that
it owes its origin entirely to the trade-winds. A few
words on this point, therefore, will not be superfluous.
First, then, if there were no atmosphere, there would be
no Gulf Stream, or any other considerable oceanic current
(as distinguished from a mere surface drift) whatever. ^
By the action of the sun’s rays, the surface of the ocean
becomes most heated, and the heated water will, therefore,
neither directly tend to ascend (which it could not do
without leaving the sea) nor to descend, which it cannot do,
being rendered buoyant, nor to move laterally, no lateral
impulse being given, and which it could only do by reason
of a general declivity of surface—the dilated portion oc¬
cupying a higher level. Let us see what this declivity
would amount to. The equatorial surface-water has a
temperature of 84°. At 7200 feet depth the temperature
is 39° the level of which temperature rises (art. 49) to
the surface in lat. 56°. Taking the dilatability of sea¬
water the same as that of fresh, a uniform increase of
temperature, from 39° to 84° Fahr., would dilate a
column of 7200 feet by 10 feet,1 at which height, therefore,
above the spheroid of equilibrium (or above the sea-level
in lat. 56°), the equatorial surface is actually raised by
this dilatation. An arc of 56°. on the earth’s surface
measures 3360 geographical miles, so that we have a
slope of one 28th of an inch per geographical mile, or
one 32d of an inch per statute mile for the water so
raised to run down. As the accelerating force, corre¬
sponding to such a slope (of one-tenth of a second 0T ),
is less than one two-millionth part of gravity, we may
dismiss this, as a cause capable of creating only a very
triflin" surface drift, and not worth considering, even were it
in the°proper direction to form, by concentration, a current
from east to west; which it would not be, but the very
(58.) Secondly.—Whatever the difference of equatorial
and polar temperatures in the surface-water, or, vyere
there no difference at all, the actually existing trade-winds
must of necessity act on the surface-water in the manner
described in art. 51. Their action is in the nature of a
vera causa, which cannot be ignored or set aside, i ie
easterly momentum communicated to the ivhole mass of air
constituting the trade-wind has, on its arrival on the equator,
been abstracted from the surface-water. Ihe surface-
water has lost that easterly momentum, which is equivalent
to saying that it has acquired an equal westerly amount,
relatively to the dry land. It is for those who deny oi
under-rate the power of the winds to produce currents to
dispose of this momentum otherwise.
(59.) Sdly and lastly.— Sea wmter, by evaporation, acquires
additional saltness and density, and by dilution with rain,
the reverse qualities. In this fact we have a rm* causa,
though a very feeble one, for the production of an indraft
on both sides towards the lines of maximum evaporation
and minimum precipitation. These lines (as we have seen,
art. 20) are not very remote from the tropics, being some¬
what nearer the equator, it is true, but not so much so as
to make it worth while to distinguish them for oui present
purpose. The diurnal rotation, then, will modify the direc¬
tions of this indraft. Water coming in to the northern
tropic, for instance, from the north side, will arrive m a
south-westerly direction, and from the south in a noiti-
easterly. The indrawn waters, then, will meet fiom
opposite sides point blank on thei tropic, and destroy each
other’s impulse. They will simply replace the volume of
evaporated water while the denser water subsides ver¬
tically. The rain, moreover, which descends on the
equator, has, on its arrival at the sea level, no tendency
either eastward or westward. It opposes no resistance
to being swept in the latter direction by the wind, and
thus carried into the general circulation as part of the
equatorial current.
1 9'971 feet, calculating on T)rYovp\cfs formula for the dilatation of water. Feet. ii. .j92.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical (60.) We ought here to observe, too, that it is by no
Geography, means necessary, in accounting for the Gulf Stream or
other ocean current, to assume or prove the existence of
what is called “ a head of water.” Such currents do not
of necessity run from a higher to a lower level. Indeed,
such a condition (as a general one) is incompatible with
the notion of circulation. A circulation in a closed area,
produced by an impulse acting horizontally on the surface-
water, may perfectly well co-exist with a truly level course
of each molecule. A billiard ball runs along a level table
by an impulse from the cue quite as naturally as if it
rolled on an inclined plane by its weight. The notion of
a “ head of water,” as a necessary condition, is a funda¬
mental misconception in most of the received theories of
oceanic currents, though such a head may be produced if
a current be resisted or deflected.
(61.) The equatorial current of the Atlantic, as we have
stated, bifurcates off Cape St Roque, and a branch called
the Brazil current runs southwards—inferior in volume
to the Gulf Stream. The projection of the South American
coast, and the absence of any deep hollow like the Gulf
of Mexico, affording no focus of concentration, a small
portion only of it coasts along at about 800 or 350 miles
from shore up to the extremity of the Continent, while
the main body performs in the South Atlantic much the
same sort of evolution as the offset of the Gulf Stream in
the north. The further progress of this stream is by no
means well made out. It is no doubt swept round in an
eddy in some respects analogous to that in the North
Atlantic basin, so as to form what is called the “ connec¬
ting current of the South Atlantic,” which runs nearly
due east about the 33d parallel of south latitude; but in
what way it is returned into the equatorial circulation, or
whether so at all, does not clearly appear. It has been
considered as finding its way at the Cape into the Southern
Ocean. More probably a portion returns to the equator,
and a portion escapes into the Southern Ocean, giving the
Cape of Good Hope, however, a wide berth.
(62.) The equatorial current of the Pacific preserves a
steady course, from its origin on the west coast of America
across the whole Pacific basin, until it nears the Asiatic
coast, where (as in the Atlantic) it bifurcates—the larger
portion, however, being carried southwards through the
broken channels between Borneo and New Guinea, to
sweep the northern and western coasts of Australia, while
the smaller branch, under the name of the Japan current,
skirts the outside of the island barrier of the eastern
Asiatic coast, imitating in the North Pacific, as nearly as
the form of its basin and the narrowness of its opening
into the Arctic Sea will permit, the course of the Gulf
Stream in the North Atlantic. For it sends only a small
shoot north-easterly up to the straits, while the main body,
curving round, takes a great sweep along the Californian
coast till nearly off the entrance of the Gulf of California,
where it turns to the west, and regains the equatorial cir¬
culation. For nearly half the year (December-April) it
is partially prolonged along the Mexican coast by the
“ Mexican coast current ”—an alternating di'ift produced
by monsoons setting along that coast.
(63.) In the North Pacific, in the latitude of Owyhee,
and over an area of nearly 50° of longitude to the east¬
ward of that island, that is to say, within the area encircled
by the great eddying stream above traced, occurs a some¬
what anomalous counter-current, or system of currents,
running eastward, which in all probability result from
peculiarities in the configuration of the bottom of the
ocean—perhaps to shallows or to submarine coral eleva¬
tions, which entangle and deflect a portion of the equa-
579
torial current. This and some other of the North Pacific. Physical
currents are as yet far from well understood. Geography.
(64.) To understand the currents of the South Pacific,
we must remember, that while the northern portion of the
great equatorial drift merely eddies round the closed
North Pacific b*sin, its southern waters find an escape,
and enter the general circulation of the world through the
Indian Seas. The Pacific, then, would be drained of its
waters were it not replenished from the southern ocean,
and we find accordingly that it is so. But this condition
implies a northward direction given to the water drifted
by the north-west Antitrades, which, combined with the
movement to the south-east those winds alone would tend
to impress, overcomes the southerly element of that motion,
and leaves the east outstanding. Thus originate two lead¬
ing currents known as the Antarctic drift current (of cold
water bearing icebergs), and the South Pacific current,
both setting into the concavity of the South American
west coast (the latter prolonged into what is known by
the name of the Mentor drift current), together with a
general drift of cold water to the southward of both these,
which takes the form of a bifurcating current about 45°
S. lat., nearly opposite the isle of Chiloe, and about 600
geographical miles from the coast. One portion proceeds
to, and rounds Cape Hoorn, as the “Cape Hoorn current;”
the other skirts the whole western coast of South America,
as the “Peruvian or Humboldt’s current” (attention being
first drawn to it by that celebrated traveller), interposing
itself between the Mentor drift and the coast, till off Payta,
in latitude about 4° S., it turns westward, and joins in
the south equatorial circulation.
(65.) The currents of the Indian Ocean north of the
equator are complicated by the monsoons, caused (see
Meteorology) by the proximity of the Asiatic coast, and
it is only over the region of the S. E. trades, and about
the 20th parallel of south latitude, that a general and
steady westward set of water takes place. This follows,
mutatis mutandis, the same laws as in the Pacific, the ocean
being open to the south. It bifurcates about the 75th de¬
gree of east longitude, one portion taking its course north of
Madagascar, and then curving southward as the Mozam¬
bique current along the African east coast, the other
passing Madagascar on the east side, and pursuing a
direct course towards the Cape of Good Hope, where the
two branches rejoin; a portion only of the stream so pro¬
duced shoots southwards past the Cape as a warm
current, but the greater part is suddenly deflected and
driven back in an eddy or counter-current, running
nearly eastward, by the cold water setting in from the
south (bearing icebergs), to supply (just as in the case of
the Pacific) the deficit of water, and carrying out precisely
the same system of reaction as in that ocean. The drift
produced by the prevalent north-west winds beyond the
southern tropic, has the southerly portion of its momentum
destroyed by the general equatorial indrift, and overcome
by this cause, the easterly subsisting, and the result is a
north-easterly stream bifurcating off Cape Leewin about
105° E. long., and sweeping the western and southern
coasts of Australia, the former portion ("just as in the case
of the corresponding portion of the Pacific supply current)
reverting west, and joining in the equatorial circulation,
the other going forwards in part supply of the Pacific
deficit. We have been perhaps more diffuse on the subject
of the oceanic currents than the nature of this article may
seem to justify ; but some such detail seemed necessary to
vindicate to the winds their supremacy in the production
of currents, without calling in the feeble and ineffective
aid of heated water, or the still more insignificant1 in-
1 Insignificant for such a purpose, but not for some others, when its accumulated effect in long periods of time is regarded.
580
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
This interval is called the establish- Physical
Geography.
can alone determine
merit of the place. . , ..
(69.) The motion of the water in the tide-wave is
totally unlike that in an ordinary surface-wave, such
as the wind produces. When a narrow wave of this
latter kind, or a succession of such waves of equal
Physical fluence of insect secretion, which has been pressed into
Geography. ^ie service as a cause of buoyancy in the ieD
k^-nied by coral formations. # n
1 (66.) Tides and Waves.—tides are in the nature ot
forced oscillations (i'.c., such as are maintained against con¬
tinued resistance and unconformable oscillatory tendencies is formed in deep water, a light
in the system of waters subjected to them) maintain y b^^^ ^ ag a cork? revolves either in a vertical
the sun and moon, each of which produces and mainta ^ J e]li no(. very different fl.om one, having
such an oscillation, which, in virtue of the law ot sup ^ ^ But ^ ^ tide.wave the move-
position of small motions, co-exists ^th the othe , . ide m be regarded as performed in an
either conspires with, or contradic s it acco d^^to the ^ ^ ^ axi of which is
phases in which they happen to be at ag vertical. The breadth of the tide-wave from crest to
'place. The action of either census - a ^ ^ ^ . aU the earth covered, would be half the
ference of attractive force exerted by the rb. earth’s circumference, or 12,500 miles, in comparison of
of the globe, and the covering ocean, whence arise aisiu .....
in- forces analogous to those by which the motions of the
moon are affected by the sun’s attraction. If the dis¬
turbing luminary maintained a constant position wit!
respect to the earth, the effect would be to produce a dis¬
tortion of figure in the ocean surface, surrounding the
whole globe (or which would eo surround ^ if ely
which the depth of the sea is insignificant; and the
sli-htest consideration suffices to shew that as all the
water which goes to form the elevated portion must be
brou-ht from that depressed, this can only take place by
a lateral approach of the vertical sections of the sea when
the water is rising, and their recess from each other when
whole globe (or which would so surround of the globe in either case,
covered with water), having the fo => > , which is only another way of expressing an alternating
gated ellipsoid, the two vertices of wh'“, were t^ ancl Jbackwal.a horizon,al current at any given
waters instantly to assume a foim q ^1... with this especial peculiarity, viz., that these cur-
the acting forces, would be the one precisely under, P ‘ he flowandPebb current) run most rapidly at the
other precisely opposite to,the points at which u of |,i„h and low water-, the instants of mostrapid
ary is vertical. This, however,^ not the cas^the forces fili ng those of “ slack water,” or no current
shiftin- their point of action before the ellipsoid has time
to form. Tims a wave is produced, which pursues the
luminary round the globe. .v
(67.) The height of the wave thus produced by the
moon is to that produced by the sun as 100 to 38. Their
mean periods of revolution about the globe are also un¬
equal, being respectively the lunar day of 24h. 54m., and
the solar day of 24h. They conspire, and have a common
vertex when the sun and moon are in conjunction or
opposition (i. e., at new and full moon) ; in which case the
joint tide is the sum of the separate ones, and is called
spring-tide. From these points the lunar lags behind the
solar "wave until the quadratures of the moon, when the
high water of the moon coincides with the low water of
the sun, and the joint tide is the difference of the separate
ones, and is called neap-tide. And it is therefore by
assiduous observations of the heights of the tide at the
conjunctions and quadratures that, the sum and difference
becoming known, the proportions of the two are ascer¬
tained (as above), the rise and fall of the spring and neap
being as 138 to 62, or nearly as 7 to 3. The greatest tides
occur when the luminaries are nearest, and pass most
nearly vertically over the place of observation.
(68.) The depth of the sea varies so much, and the
form of its basin, taken as a whole, is so interrupted by
the land, that it may be doubted whether, were the action
of the luminaries at once suspended, their tide waves
would pei’form even a single revolution with any sort of
regularity, and in the course of two or three, would be so
broken up and confused by reflexion to and fro, as to
destroy all vestige of a tide. Hence it follows, that the
tides for the time being may be considered as almost com¬
pletely commanded by the then actual position and proxi¬
mities of the luminaries, the free oscillations of the sea in its
bed being quite subordinate to the forced wave generating
them. In consequence (as is always the case in forced
oscillations), every periodicity in the action of the forcing
cause is propagated into the oscillations, and records itself
in the recorded height of the tide on every point of every
coast, but at each point, at a greater or less interval from
the culmination of the luminary, according to its local
position and the more or less circuitous course taken
by the tide-wave to reach it, and which special observation
one way'or other. In fact, it is obvious that the surface
must be rising most rapidly when water is setting in equally
loth ways to, and sinking most rapidly when setting out
equally both ways from the place ; in neither of which cases
can there be any current at the place.
(70.) The tide-wave differs also from a wind-wave in
another very remarkable point. It affects the who e
depth of the ocean equally, from the bottom to the surface,
while the wind-waves, even in the most violent storms,
a-itate it to a very trifling depth. .For the.force whic
acts to produce the former, which is what in the lunar
theory is termed the tangential element of the disturbing
force, is exerted equally in every portion of the vertical
extent of the water, while those producing the latter are
strictly confined to the surface. Hence it would, at ffist
sight seem that the tidal action must be very violent at
the bottom of the sea: and in shallow seas it is.so, but
not in deep water. A tide-wave of four feet m total
height (between high and low water), which is that ot the
tide at the Atolls of the Indian Ocean, advancing over a
sea 30,000 feet deep, implies in each particle an alternate
advance and recess of 2800 feet in its total, extent; but
this movement, being spread over 6 hours either way, is
nowhere very rapid.
(71.) In shallow seas, however, the actual movement
to and fro is more rapid in the inverse ratio of tie ep
of water, and this is seen in many remarkable instances,
as, for example, in the Face of Alderney, and the seas in
the island channels of the Orkneys, and the ce e. ra e
Maelstrom off the Norwegian coast, as well as m the
rapid streams which flow all round our own coasts, an
are familiar to every seaman. It is this which gives t e
tides their drifting and abrading power on the materia s
of the coast.
(72.) Both the sun and moon, on a general, average,
are vertical over the equator, where, therefore, if the sea
covered the globe, would be the region of highest tides,
and round which zone they would circulate uniformly,
but the equatorial sea being broken up into three great
basins, and open water existing only to the southward ot
the three great continental masses, the phenomena ot t1®
tides are complicated in a very singular way. In each o
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
581
Physical these basins the equatorial tide has to take a fresh start
Geography. from t}ie eastern side, with every fresh upper and lower
transit of the producing luminary, and is destroyed or
confused by reflexion on the western coast before the
creation of a new wave, while in the open part of the
Southern Ocean the tide-wave circulates unimpeded, and
spreads in to the three oceans, up which it runs as a free
wave from south-east to north-west, overtaking in its
progress, and amalgamating with, the partial equatorial
tides or forced waves proper to either ocean, and their
reflected portions. In spite of all the complications so
induced, however, and of those additional ones which
arise from the shoaling of seas and the narrowing ot
channels, as a general fact two high and two low waters
occur everywhere in the course of a lunar day of 24 h.
54 m., the solar and lunar tides never contradicting each
other so far as to produce a double maximum in their
combined wave. The day and hour of occurrence of the
highest spring-tide next following the conjunction of the
luminaries being observed, informs us not only of the
“ establishment ” of the place, but also of the age of the
tide, or that particular original tide-wave, of which any
one circuitously arriving at a place, may be a branch.
Thus the age of the tide in the port of London is
two days, and on the coast of Spain, thirty-six hours.
By determining these particulars at a series of points
along all the coast lines, it becomes possible to construct
a chart of cotidal lines, or those of contemporaneous
arrival of the same tide, however subdivided, as has been
done with extraordinary perseverance and success by Dr.
Whewell. From his researches we learn,
(73.) 1st. That whereas the forced equatorial tide in a
continuous sea would run round the globe in 24 h., and
therefore with a mean velocity of 900 geographical miles
= 1050 statute miles per hour, it requires 12 h. to run
up the Atlantic from 50° S. to 50° N. lat., giving an ave¬
rage rate of about 500 geographical miles per hour. In
the Atlantic, then, it is more in the nature of a free than of
a forced wave.
(74.) Idly. That its rate of advance is mainly deter¬
mined by the depth of water. When it enters the
Atlantic its front runs nearly from N.E. to S.W., but in
its progress it becomes curved and convex northwards,
till it approaches the southern tropic, where its progress
is retarded again in the interval from thence to the
equator, just where the appearance of islands (St Helena
and Ascension) afford an indication of less depth. I rom
the equator northwards, its progress again becomes rapid,
and the increasing convexity of the lines of successive
hours marks as clearly as soundings (since obtained) would
do, the deepest channel. Thus the cotidal line corre¬
sponding to the eleventh hour of its progress, which at its
eastern extremity rests on Cape Blanco (lat. 21p IN.), and
at its western on Porto Rico (19° N.) has its front advanced
to the north nearly to the bank of Newfoundland (dfl^
N.), and the point of its farthest advance precisely on
that part of the sea where (as we have seen in art. 37)
the great submarine cross valley of the North Atlantic is
situate. Advancing further north, the cotidal lines of the
successive hours close up, in correspondence with the
diminishing depth of the North Sea, and round the Irish
coast, indicate a velocity not exceeding 150 miles per
hour, while in the channels the wave advances still
slower, and they are crowded still closer.
(75.) Further and very remarkable corroborations of
the same theoretically demonstrable law appear wherever
the advancing front of the tide-wave stretches across the
opening of any great bay or recess of the coast line. Such
is the case in the hollow of the South American coast off
Patagonia, between the River La Plata and Cape Horn ;
and again in the Indian Ocean, in the Arabian Gulf, Physical
and the Bay of Bengal, in which last, as the rate of^S^P^j-
advance of the wave diminishes, the extent and force (as
a necessary consequence) of the aquatic movement in¬
creases, both the height and the ebb and flow current are
exaggerated, and result in the phenomena of a Pore, or
sudden and violent wave rushing up the Hooghly River
with such impetuosity as to sweep everything before it.
The same thing takes place in many other estuaries, or
gradually expanding mouths of rivers, which receive and
concentrate the tide; as, for instance, in the Garonne, and
in our own Severn, where the spring-tides at Chepstow
(which in mid-ocean, as at St Helena and Ascension, do
not exceed three feet) rise to forty, and where at such
times a bore nine feet in height runs up stream. The
bore of the Chinese river Tsientang advances up that
river at Hangchau like a wall of water, extended across
the river, thirty feet in height, and advancing at the
rate of twenty-five miles per hour, sweeping all before
it. In the Amazon River, at the equinoxes (when the
equatorial tide is at its maximum), during three conse¬
cutive days, bores of twelve or fifteen feet high rush up
the river with each high water; so that, along the com se
of the stream, up which for 200 miles from its mouth no
less than eight tide waves are simultaneously advancing,
as many as five bores are sometimes at once in progress.
(76.) The effect of concentration, by the gradual ap¬
proach of the shores, and the shoaling of the bottom, is
nowhere so strongly exemplified as in the Bay of Fundy,
where the tide not uncommonly rises fifty feet, and, as is
said, on some occasions to more than double this height.
The whole of the tide-wave between Halifax and Charles¬
ton is made to converge by the shore of Nova Scotia on one
side, and the United States on the other, to the entrance of
this bay ; a ship has been known to strike and remain fixed
on a sunken rock at high water there during the night,
and at daybreak the crew have been astonished to find
themselves looking down a precipice into water far
below.
(77.) The tide which flows round the British Islands, on
the west side, bends round the north of Scotland, and
enters the German Ocean from the north, after traversing
which, it meets the tide of twelve hours’ earlier origin
which has entered by St George’s Channel. Hence
arises a singular complication ; the former tide mainly
clinging to the British, and the latter to the Continental
coast, and producing a revolving wave and nodes of undu¬
lation ; and, inconsequence, there is a point in the North
Sea whose existence was pointed out a priori by Dr
Whewell, and verified by observation, where the rise and
fall of the tide is nil.
(78.) The tides of the Pacific are but ill understood.
In some parts of it (as in the Atlantic) they are of very
small magnitude, as far as rise and fall is concerned, so
that at some points, as at the Sandwich Islands, they
may be said to be entirely masked by the effect of the
land and sea breezes, and the diurnal variat^n of the
pressure of the air: and a single feeble tide, at fixed hours
in the day and night, occurs in place of the usual double
rise and fall at hours continually varying. At Singapore,
also at the Keeling Islands, and at Petropaulovski, similar
phenomena occur due to local peculiarities. At Tonquin
also (at Batschan) there is only a single tide ; but this is
explained by the interference of tides which reach it at
the same time in different phases, and by different channels,
combined with the “ diurnal inequality” of the two high
waters (a very generally observed phenomenon), which
annihilates one of them, but leaves a portion of the other
outstanding.
(79.) Wind-waves are small at their first origin, com-
582
p H Y S I C A L G E O G R A P H Y.
Physical mencing with a mere ripple, or, as the sailors tenn it, a
Geography. cat’s paWj” on the water—“ darkening like water in the
'—breeze.” But each wavelet, as it advances, acquires in¬
creased height by the continued pressure of the wind,
according to a law which has been clearly, deduced
from strict dynamical principles by Mr Airy, in a very
remarkable paper on Tides and Waves, forming part ot
the Encydop. Metropol. Hence it is that the larger
waves are not developed in narrow seas, or when the
wind blows off the land ; they require breadth of water
and continued pressure a tergo, for their formation. -Th®
greatest waves known are those off the Cape of Good
Hope, under the influence of a north-west gale (the storm-
wind of that region), which drifts the swell round the Physical
Cape, after traversing obliquely the vast area of the South ^eographj
Atlantic. In such gales, waves are there met with of
forty feet in height, so that two ships in the trough of the
sea, with such a wave between them, lose sight of one
another from their decks. Off Cape Hoorn, also, waves of
thirty-two feet from crest to trough have been observed.
In our own seas the waves rarely exceed eight or nine
feet in height.
(80.) There exists a relation between the breadth of a
wave, its velocity of progress, and the depth of the water
on which it travels, which has been embodied by Mr
Airy in the following table:—
Depth of
the Water
in Feet.
1
10
100
1000
10,000
100,000
2-262
2-262
2-262
2-262
2-262
2-262
Breadth of the Wave in Feet.
10.
100.
1000.
10,000.
100,000.
1,000,000.
Corresponding Velocity of Wave per Second in Feet.
5-320
7-154
7-154
Do.
Do.
Do.
5-667
16-883
22-264
22-264
Do.
Do.
5-671
17-921
53-390
71-543
71-543
Do.
5-671
17-933
56-672
168-83
226-24
226-24
5-671
17-933
56-710
179-21
533-90
715-43
5-671
17-933
56-710
179-33
566-72
1688-3
10,000,000
5-671
17-933
56-710
179-33
567-10
1793-3
The conclusion of Professor Bache respecting the depth of
the Pacific, noticed in art. 40, is founded on this Table.
And by a similar principle of calculation, grounded on the
progress of the tide-wave (regarded as a free-wave) run¬
ning up the Atlantic (art. 73), viz., that a wave 6000 geo¬
graphical miles in breadth from crest to crest travels
its own breadth in twelve hours, we find for the mean
depth of the whole Atlantic from 50° south lat. to 50° N.
22,157 feet, a result perfectly in accordance with what
we know from numerous soundings of its northern basin,
and what may reasonably be concluded from the com¬
paratively few obtained in its southern.
(81.) As the wind, supposed to blow off shore, continues
to act on a wave, it increases both in length and breadth,
and the water deepening, its velocity of progress increases
rapidly. The depth of water to which the agitation of a
wave extends perceptibly, never bears a very large pro¬
portion to the dimensions of the wave, either in breadth or
height, the motion diminishing in geometrical progression,
as the depth below the surface increases in arithmetical,
and at a depth equal to the breadth of the wave, the mo¬
tion is diminished to one 534th part of that at the sur¬
face. In the case of a wave, then, a quarter of a mile in
breadth, and forty feet in height, the displacement of the
water at a depth of 1320 feet, in its passage over it would
be less than an inch, and would be incapable of disturbing
the smallest grain of sand.
(82.) When waves cross each other, they are simply
superposed, and in place of dividing the water into parallel
ridges, they break it into lozenges. In this case, the motion
of each particle of the surface-water, besides that of rising
and falling, is one of circulation in a horizontal plane, and
a small portion of the surface changes its inclination to
the horizon in what is called a vorticose manner, a perpen¬
dicular to the surface (as the mast of a ship floating on it)
revolving conically, by a combination of pitching and
rolling distressing to the passengers, and trying to the
vessel. This crossing of waves, especially when more than
two series cross one another, forms what is called “ a chop¬
ping sea.” Such seas occur, 1st, when a. series of waves,
rolling into an extensive bay, meet, at oblique angles,
ae waves reflected from its shores, as is very frequently
the case in the Bay of Biscay. 2dly, When the wind,
after blowing long and fiercely in one direction, veers sud¬
denly to another, which happens especially in those hurri¬
canes called cyclones, or revolving gales, which produce
waves travelling at once towards all points of the compass,
the combination of which, near the centre of the whirl¬
wind, produces a sea of the most fearful description.
3c%, When a storm in one direction acts on a sea in which
there exists already a long rolling swell setting in from a
great distance in another, called a “ground swell,” the
consequence of a far remote storm which has never made
itself sensible in any other way at the place of the ship.
(83.) By far the largest waves, however, are those
which owe their origin to earthquakes. On such occasions,
great tracts of the ocean-bed are often suddenly uplifted
or depressed, and the result is necessarily a vast wave
running out from the spot in all directions. One such
wave has already been mentioned. In the earthquake
which destroyed Lisbon in 1755, a portion of the coast¬
line suddenly sank to a depth of 600 feet, and the result
was a wave of 60 feet in height, which swept over the
land, ravaged the whole coast of Portugal, and was pro¬
pagated seaward quite across the Atlantic to the West
Indies. At Madeira it rose and fell 12 feet.
(84.) When a wave runs forward into shoal water, the
friction retards the movement of the lower particles, those
of the upper continuing. The circle described by the
water molecules gradually passes into a more and more
flattened ellipse (Weber, Wdlenlehre), and at length the
wave breaks: its crest curls over, and precipitates itself
forward on the shore, up which it rushes, the under-water
at the same time racing back, and tearing up the beach
in its backward course. Hence the abrading and destruc¬
tive action of the surf on a sea-beach. Certain coasts
are particularly infested with a heavy surf, such as that
off' Madras, where the surf habitually breaks at such a
distance from the beach as to render landing always diffi¬
cult and dangerous, and sometimes impossible. The great
waves which roll in from the Indian Ocean sometimes
break there in nine fathoms water, and at a distance of
four miles from land.
(85 t The force of waves, when breaking against an
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical obstacle, is enormous. Their effective pressure during
Geography, violent storms has been estimated as high as 6000 lbs. per
square foot. The waves breaking against the base of the
Eddystone lighthouse, have been known to dash up above
its top to 150 feet above the sea-level, and descend like a
cataract on its summit. In the great Barbadoes hurricane
of 1780, cannon, which had been long lying sunk, were
washed far up on shore, and found high and dry on the
subsidence of the storm.
(86.) Coi'al Formations, Atolls, Reefs, Lagunes.—Avery
large area of the tropical seas, both in the Indian and Pa¬
cific Oceans, is dotted over with islands, the upper portions
at least of which are the work of those singular organisms
of the genera astraaa, meandrina, and caryophyllia, which
secrete from the sea-water the nidus which they inhabit in
the form of continuous rocky masses, perforated according
to regular patterns, and known by the name of coral.
The animals themselves live and work only within certain
very moderate limits of depth, not exceedingninety fathoms;
and whether those now living ai’e to be considered as suc¬
cessors or prolongations (by a process of gemmation) of
those which have perished in situ, does not seem well made
out.
(87.) The coral formations are chiefly confined to the
Indian and Pacific Oceans, between the parallels of 30°
north and south. The Arabian and Persian Gulfs, and
the Red Sea, are full of them, and between the coasts of
Madagascar and Malabar, the whole ocean may be con¬
sidered as a great coral sea. Along the east coast of
Australia, and stretching thence to New Guinea, they
form barrier reefs of the most dangerous character, which
prevent all access to the coast, except through narrow
channels occurring only at rare intervals. The u Great
Barrier Reef” extends from Breaksea Spit, in lat. 24° 36'
S., to Bristow Island, 9° 15' S., a mean breadth of 30
miles, a length of 1100, and an area of 33,000 square miles.
But the most curious and striking peculiarity of the coral
formations is their tendency to crown every summit rising
up from deep water, and to form, upon sunken rocks,
circular basins or lagunes, a fleu de Veau, called Atolls,
surrounded on every side with water of unfathomed depth,
and shelving off in the most precipitous manner. Of
these, the most remarkable instances in the Indian Ocean,
is the chain of islands, or rather groups of islands, running
directly south across the equator from the western ex¬
tremity of the peninsula of India, the Laccadive, Maidive,1
and Chagos Isles. These consist of “a series of circular
assemblages of islands, the larger groups being 40 or 50
miles in their longest diameter. On the outside of each
circle, or atoll, are coral reefs extending to a distance of
two or three miles, beyond which are no soundings at
immense depths. But in the centre of each is a lagune
from 15 to 20 fathoms deep.” It has been considered,
with great probability, that these atolls crown the craters
of extinct and submerged volcanos; and from the exces¬
sively sudden and precipitous manner in which many of
them in the Pacific spring up from deep water, the lower
portions being formed of dead coral (for the animal lives
and works only at or near the surface), an argument almost
irresistible has been drawn by Mr Darwin in favour of a
slow but continual subsidence of the bottom of the ocean
in which they occur, the animals constantly raising the
summit to the surface as the base subsides. The upper
portion of their work is battered by the sea, which heaps
up the broken fragments on the windward side, leaving
generally an opening into the lagune to leeward, and thus
forming, as it were, harbours of refuge of great security,
with free access at all times. This peculiarity has been
583
insisted on by Sir C. Lyell as an additional and very Physical
cogent argument for their gradual subsidence, as it is difli- Geography,
cult to imagine any other cause by which the leeward
opening could constantly be kept unobstructed.
(88.) In the Pacific, the most remarkable coral forma¬
tions are those of the Caroline Islands, a vast assemblage
of coral groups, extending over more than 20° in longi¬
tude, and 5° in latitude, the Society Isles, and the so-
called Dangerous Archipelago. Indeed, every island yet
examined in the wide district termed Eastern Oceania,
consists either of volcanic rocks, or coral limestones.
(89.) It is one of the peculiarities of these Zoophytes,
that they always build perpendicularly upwards. This,
while it serves to explain the precipitous character of the
external wall of their lagunes, may serve, in conjunction
with the great depth from which they rise, to give some
idea of the duration of the period in which the sub¬
sidence of their foundation has been in progress—such
steepness being of extreme rarity on coasts where no coral
exists, and Avhere the usual action of the sea, except on
the hardest granite, invariably shoals the water into a
more or less gradual declivity.
(90.) Phenomena of the Polar Seas.—Floating Ice—Ice¬
bergs.—Beyond the 56th parallels of latitude, as we have
seen, the temperature of the water is lower at the surface,
and rises as the thermometer descends, till the level of 39°
is reached. The sea then, even in deep water, becomes
frozen at the surface in the winter months, or rather
through all that portion of the year which intervenes
between the beginning of September and the latter end of
June—July and August being, in high latitudes, the only
open months. Sea-water freezes at a lower temperature
than fresh (28-^° Fahr.), but its ice, like that of fresh-
Avater, floats, and nearly Avith the same buoyancy. It
may, indeed, be doubted whether salt-water ice be really
anything else than fresh, with a portion of concentrated
brine entangled in its pores. Snow falling and floating
on Avater of 28°, does not of course melt, so that the
Polar Seas become coated Avith a stratum of perfectly
fresh ice over A^ery extensive tracts. The broken masses
detached from the coasts, also, around Avhich the ice accu¬
mulates in the long Avinters into cliffs and glaciers of vast
height, and hundreds of miles in extent, and which,
when set afloat, drift along as icebergs, by the effect of
currents, are necessarily fresh. In estimating the magni¬
tude of these masses, it must always be borne in mind
that the specific gravity of ice being only (>9, only about
one-tenth of its bulk projects above the surface.
(91.) There can be very little doubt that, in the winter
time, the surface of the ocean at both poles is entirely
frozen ; but at the North Pole, it is probable, from many
indications, that open Avater exists over a very large area
of the central polar basin, during a considerable portion of
the Avarmer months. Although the northern coasts of
Europe and Asia, from Nova Zembla to the extremity of
Siberia, are always lined with ice, yet, in advancing out
to sea-ward in sledges, from Kotelnoi Island and the
mouth of the Kolyma River, in lat. N. /6° and /2t>,
Lieut. Anjou and Baron Wrangel found open ocean as far
as the eye could reach ; and the same has been observed
by Inglefield and Kane (the latter viewing it from “ Cape
Constitution,” 540 ft. in altitude), in lat. 81° 22'N., in
Kennedy Channel, at the north end of Smith’s Sound.
In the land-locked and intricate channels between Green¬
land and the north coast of America, the obstruction very
frequently continues, however, during the whole summer,
and even several successive ones, as the annals of Arctic
exploration only too emphatically witness.
1 See Moresby and Powell’s beautiful charts of the Maidive Atolls.
584
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
PbVBical (92.1 When, under the influence of the advancing
Geography. season, the “fleld-ice” of the Sene™ ^ other
— becomes heaped together in sheete piled »" ea'“ 0,the
into what is called an “ice-pack,” showing in lines
thickness of the sheets, which often extends to 3
feet The wild confusion which a storm creates
a “oack/’ is more easily imagined than described.
When extensive ice-fields meet, which they o on ,
rcaTonX^ rs
collision with icebergs, which are making them way undei
the influence of the current, by which ^cc^ot ^
great depth and volume »f^ftfot ^nTat to
are entirely commanded, whde the tto , ti
mprev of the winds, when an awful scene of destruct
takes7place, the floes, of course, giving way, tearing up,
nnd flvino- to pieces in all directions. _ , . , •
(93) To give an idea of the quantity o ^ce 1C s
carried out of the polar regions, independent °f the xc -
bero-s, and drifted into warmer tempeiatuies, we neea
only instance the case of the Resolute, explonng-ship,
which havin" been abandoned by reason ot its gettm
inextricably engaged in a vast field of ice m Melv^es
Straits, was found afterwards in Baffin s Bay, havin
been carried 1000 miles from its former P081*1™ by^
drift of an ice-field 300,000 square miles ^ extent, ami
7 feet thick. A similar occurrence carried Captain D
Haven, of the U. S. Navy, in a mass of frozen sea-water
an equal distance south of his position in the mid-channel
of Wellington Straits. .
(94 ) Little of the floe, or surface-ice, however, escapes
unmel’ted from Baffin’s Bay: it is speedily broken up and
destroyed by the waves in open water, and it is only tne
great detached masses which float to any considerable
distance from either polar circle into the temperate zones.
In the Atlantic they are seldom met with below 49
lat., being destroyed by encountering the Gulf bTream. In
the North Pacific, their access from the Polar Basin being
barred, they do not occur. In the Southern Ocean they
attain as far as 40° S., and are very often met with in
rounding the Cape of Good Hope, at some distance from
laI(95.) These bergs, from the mode of their formation,
being detached by fracture from glaciers projecting into
the sea, and from barrier lines of ice cliff, and being after¬
wards subjected to the melting influence of the air, assume
the most uncouth and extraordinary forms, sometimes
picturesque with towering pinnacles and overhanging
cliffs, and always grand and awful. They have been seen
as much as 600 feet in height, but when met with at sea
are seldom more than 200 or 300. They spread a sensible
degree of cold in the air, accompanied with fog, for groat
distances round them, and form one of the chief dangeis
in navigating the North Atlantic.
(96.) Many of the bergs which drift out to sea, having
been the extremities of glaciers while in attachment to
the coast, are loaded with broken fragments of rock an
other materials, which have been heaped on t em y
casualties of weather, and the fall of rocks dunqg ien
gradual descent to the sea level. These they cany wi 4
them wherever they may drift, and ultimately deposit a
the bottom of the sea on melting. Icebergs have been
encountered in the North Sea, covered or interstrati lec
with ancient soil, among which were the bones of mam¬
moths and other extinct animals.
(97. Around the south pole a sea, open (at least so far
as land is concerned) or nearly open, extends all round it,
except between the meridians of 160° and 170° E. longi¬
tude, and the parallels of 70° and 80° S. latitude, which PhyB cd
is occupied by the coast of Victoria Land, discovered in ^
1841 by Sir J. C. Boss. From the southernmost acces¬
sible poffitof this coast, in lat. 78° 15', extends for 450
miles to the eastward an unbroken vertical cliff of ice
beim* 180 feet above the water, and therefoie about 1000
feet in thickness—floating in water 280 fathoms in depth
(1680 feet), though probably connected to the south with
in extension of Victoria Land. With exception of this,
and some similar masses also connected with land, the
Antarctic Sea is less unbrokenly coated with field ice than
mmht be expected, the swell from the great oceans wit
which it is connected breaking the fields up into floes o
no great magnitude. But, on the other hand, the packed
ice,’’ which results from the fracture and pnmg up of the
field ice, accumulates in immense quantities. k.ir.« . .
Ross, in the daring voyage of the Erobus and Terro ,
had to force his way through 1000 miles of such obshuc-
(98.) In consequence of the intense cold of the icy sur¬
face, contrasted, as it sometimes is in summer, with the
warmth of the air, the phenomena of atmospheric ie.fi ac¬
tion are exaggerated in these regions m a most extra¬
ordinary manner—the forms of icebergs, rocks, &c., aie
seen drown up in vertical altitude, and spread out on then-
apparent summits laterally, so as to present no resemblance
to their real form. One of the beneficial consequences of
the great amount of refraction is the earlier appearance
of the sun above the horizon, and its later disappearance
by which the dreary polar winters are shortened by several
da(99.) Another phenomenon, which is witnessed in its
highest perfection in the polar seas, and, m general, m hig
S and south latitudes, is the Aurora The magnifi¬
cence of its displays, as recorded by those who ha\e
witnessed them in the arctic regions, is such as those w he
have seen it only in our latitudes can hardly conceive.
It is described as an immense curtain, waving ^s folds
like the canopy of an ample tent agitated by the wind, and
fringed with a7border of light of the richest colours and
vivfd brilliancy. The impossibility of wintering in very
high southern latitudes cuts off theJ"?81 advantage
opportunities of observing auroral exhibitions.
(100 ) The Land.—As Coast-lines, Harbours, ^ea-chffs,
Beaches, Shingle-drifts, Tidal
We have mentioned in arts. 12, Id, the i g
features of the coast-lines of the great passes of landj but
it is their minor local irregularities of outline which, in
the magnitude and convenience ot harbours, estuaries, and
river mouths, accessible at all seasons, and the protection
and facility of communication with theinter^
constitute a feature of the last importance to the well hem,
and commercial intercourse °f the coun i • ^
tn this resoect there is a marked and vast difference be
tween the1 several regions of the land, which has exercised,
and must ever continue to exercise, a most poweifu in
ence in determining the relative degree of civilization of
nations, and, what is of greater importance, the more 01
less cosmopolitan character of that civilization. In this
respect Europe, and the eastern coasts of Noith Ameiica,
stand pre-eminent. It is true that the giea lc.11P ‘c r.
of the east affords innumerable and excellent positions of
this nature; but their very multitude and disconnection
fit them rather for nests of piracy, or for dependent em-
poria of commerce m transitu, than for the seats o groa ,
compact, and united communities.
(101.) The capacity of any region of the globe tor extei -
nal communication may, to a certain degree, be very an y
estimated by a comparison of the extent of ^ c»ast-hne
with its superficial area. Europe, for instance, with an are..
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
585
Physical
Geography.
of 3,400,000 square statute miles, has 20,000 statute miles
of coast-line, being at the average rate of a mile of coast
for every 170 square miles of surface, and of which only
about3000 miles is of difficult access. Asia, with 17,600,000
square miles of surface, has 33,000 miles of coast (or one
to 533), nearly a fourth part of which is arctic, and all but
inaccessible. Africa, with 11,300,000 miles of surface,
has a coast of 16,500 (1 to 420), singularly destitute, in
every part of its outline, of good harbourage, and with some
of its great rivers barred, and others pestiferous. On
the other hand, the area of North America being 7,200,000
miles, has a coast-line (1 to 260), of 28,000, of which,
however, nearly a third being arctic, is useless as a sea-
bord. South America, with an area of 6,800,000 miles,
and a coast-line of 16,500 (1 to 420), presents a remark¬
able contrast between its eastern and western coasts, not
so much in respect of indentation by good harbours, of
which it has little to boast, as on account of the vast rivers
which flow into the Atlantic, and afford a power of pene¬
trating into the interior, ab extra, unexampled except in
North America and China. Our own islands, Ireland in
particular, are more richly supplied in this respect than
any other territory of equal extent, with exception of Nor¬
way, the whole coast of which is one continuous chain of
deep indentations, or fiords, but whose rugged and preci¬
pitous character, and difficulty of accessibility on the land-
side, owing to the rude and mountainous nature of the
country, go far to neutralize this great natural advantage.
The least-favoured region in this respect is Australia,—a
mass of 3,500,000 square miles in area, but lying com¬
pactly within a very rounded general outline, having a
coast but little indented, and nearly, in a very large por¬
tion of its eastern sea-bord, rendered unapproachable,
except through particular channels, by the great barrier
coral reef noticed in art. 87. Nevertheless, it possesses
in Sydney perhaps the most perfect and magnificent har-<
hour in the world, and one in which all its united navies
might float in security.
(102.) One of the greatest advantages a harbour can pos¬
sess is that of having, at some little distance off its opening,
and in the direction from which tempestuous weather
chiefly comes, an island to act as a natural breakwater,
according to Virgil’s description :—
“ Insula portum
Efficit objectu laterum, quibus omnis ab alto
Frangitur, inque sinus scindit sese unda reductos.”
Such is the security and ready lateral accessibility on
either side afforded to Portsmouth by the Isle of Wight,
and to New York by Long Island. Table Bay owes what
little security it may be considered to possess, in like
manner, to the proximity ofRobben Island. Where such
natural breakwaters are wanting, or insufficient, artificial
ones have often to be constructed, at vast expense, as at
Plymouth and Cherbourg.
(103.) A sea-beach is a more or less gently sloping area,
on which the breakers do their work of grinding to
powder, and carrying out to sea, the fallen fragments of
cliffs undermined by their action during high tides and
storms, or precipitated by landslips. Such a slope, rising
at a small angle (smaller in proportion to the fineness of
the detritus of which it consists), surmounted usually by a
somewhat steeper bank of shingle (loose stone not yet
battered to powder), and backed to landward by a ver¬
tical or very precipitous escarpment, marking the limit so
far attained by the encroaching ocean, and hollowed into
caverns by its waves, is the almost invariable character
of a coast line, except when (as in Norway, and on
the west coast of Scotland) its material consists of the
harder crystalline rocks, in which case there is often deep
water close to the cliff, or rugged rocks in every stage of
voi.. xvn.
progressive destruction, forming a talus rising above the Physical
waves. It is therefore perfectly easy to recognize by Geography,
these marks, when we find them in the interior of a '
country beyond the present reach of the waves, the exist¬
ence of what was once a sea-beach, and thence to conclude
the action, since that epoch, of elevating forces. Innu¬
merable instances are met with in every part of the world
of such ancient sea-beaches elevated at various heights
above the actual sea-level—for example, at Plymouth, at
New Quay, near Falmouth, in many parts of Wales and
Scotland (as in the celebrated parallel roads of Glenroy,
clearly shewn by Captain Hall to be ancient sea-beaches);
from Alten Bay to Hammerfest in Finmark (Bravais),
in the Val di Noto in Sicily (Lyell), in the Morea, as
described by Boblaye, and still more remarkably in South
America, in the valley of Lima, near Bahos del Puyo
(Cruickshank), 700 feet above the present sea, and at
Coquimbo (Hall). Lately a succession of raised beaches,
like a vast flight of 41 terraced steps, 480 feet in total
height, has been described by Dr Kane as occurring along
the coast of Kennedy Channel, separating Greenland from
the land to westward, commencing at 76° N. lat., and
continued to “ the Great Glacier,” and the north of Grin-
nell Land, or North Victoria. This, then, is one of many
cases in which the study of what is actually going on
educates the eye and the intellect to discern what has
passed ; and it is thus that we recognize, in the escarpment
of our chalk formations, the cliffs bounding that sea which
has denuded of its chalky covering the whole of our
Wealden country, and conclude the continued levelling
action of the ocean wherever we find a hilly country, cut
down by such escarpments, abutting on an extent of com¬
paratively level ground.
(104.) The material so pulverized and washed down into
deep water is transported by the tide-current to great
distances. In the peculiar nature of the tidal undulation
described in arts. 69, 70, we perceive the great trans¬
porting and distributing agency by which new strata are
formed from the destruction of old ones. But the full effect
of this power is only to be appretiated when we contem¬
plate the rounded forms of hills, and the branching and
sinuous valleys of a very large portion of the surface
of the land where the action of the existing rivers, or of
any conceivable amount of atmospheric precipitation, is
quite inadequate to have performed the work of excava¬
tion, and where there is no evidence of sudden and violent
convulsion. Witness our own chalk downs, much of our
Wealden swells and slopes, and the gentle undulations
which everywhere cover the surface of the lower lands in
all countries—
“ Qua se subducere colles
Incipiunt, mollique jugum demittere clivo;”
and which can be referable to no other agency than tide¬
washing during a period of prolonged submersion in
shallow seas. A large portion of the surface of France is
one continued exemplification of this agency.
(105.) Loaded with the material so abraded, the tide-
currents sweep along the coast a vast quantity of matter
which they deposit in eddies, and thus alter the outlines
of the coasts, silt up harbours, form sand-banks, shingle-
drifts, land-spits, and other appendages to coast lines (of
which we have examples in the great shingle-drift of
Dungeness Point and the Chesil Bank), and are active in
producing one of the greatest impediments to navigation
in the form of bars at the mouths of rivers, of which
notable instances occur in the Rangoon River, the Meinam,
the Senegal River, the Quilimane or Zambesi, and the
Canton River, where there are two bars, Port Natal, and
most of the harbours on the South African coast. Such
bars are chiefly formed where the opening of the river
4 k
586
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
physical to the sea is narrow, and not spread out into __ ■ 3 ’
Geography. wlnCh the tide tends rather to scour than to silt up.
' (106.) Besides the material worn off from the coa,
by the action of the sea, a vast quantity is brought down
by rivers, which accumulates at their mouths, ioun-
ino- deltas, the forms of which are greatly modified by
tides and currents. The Ganges has been computed to
deliver, on an average, into the sea annually 534,600,000
tons of solid matter; the Mississippi 292,700,000, an
the Irawadi 102,500,000. No wonder, then, that in
the course of ages deltas should accumulate lhat o
the Ganges extends across a space of 160 miles, and it
has nearly the form of an equilateral triangle, considered
as filling the area included by the Hooghly branch, and
the innumerable smaller streams which cross like a net
work over its surface. The delta of the Nile, like that
of the Ganges, is formed in a fork of the river, about
90 geographical miles from the sea (though doubtless the
sea, at° some former period, occupied the whole space
between the branches), and forms on the sea-bord a seg¬
ment of a circle, having a chord of about 170 geographical
miles, the outline being rounded off by the action of the
currents, sweeping the drift to the eastward, and bordered
with a chain of salt or brackish lakes, separated from the
sea by narrow sand lines. That of the Rhine, or rather
the united delta of the Rhine, Meuse, and Moselle, con¬
stitutes the whole of Holland, and offers, in its northern
part, the same phenomenon of a rounded outline and chain
of low drift banks (Texel, Vlieland, Schelling, and Ame-
land), enclosing a shallow expanse of water (the Zuyder
Sea), the rivers entering the sea by innumerable outlets
to the south. On the other hand, the deltas of the Missis¬
sippi and the Lena carry out the rivers to great distances,
and form very projecting points ; that of the Mississippi,
in particular, which is singularly ramified, and in which
the main channel prolongs itself, on land of its own for¬
mation, like the claw of some web-footed bird, far into
the Gulf of Mexico, being increased by immense quan¬
tities of drifted trees, which meet together, and form a
vast floating mass—the “ Raft of Atchefalaya,” Avhich,
in 1816, contained upwards of 250,000,000 cubic feet of
timber, accumulated, in consequence of some local obstruc¬
tion, in only 38 years, and has been increasing ever
since.
(107.) The Land, continued.—Law of Distribution of its
Materials—Geological Relations.—Quo of the first things
which travel teaches us is, that the materials of which
the earth consists are not scattered chaotically, and at
random, over its surface. Particular sorts of earth and
rock occur largely and almost exclusively over some dis¬
tricts, and are wanting in others, and it is the business of
geological science to furnish a clue to the intricacies of
their distribution, and to point out the relations which
subsist between adjacent districts in respect of material
composition, and the conditions which have determined
the form and extent of each.
(108.) A very superficial observation of the escarpments
of cliffs, and other features of a country which lay bare
some considerable depth of the ground, suffices to shew
that a very large portion of the earth’s surface consists of
successive layers or beds of different material, or of the
same with marking lines of separation, or thin layers of
others interposed, while other portions exhibit no such
character. Hence a division into stratified and unstratfied.
If these layers were strictly horizontal, and of equal thick¬
ness, the slope of every hill, and the face of every cliff,
would exhibit a series of horizontal belts, running level
lines around their contour, and defining the extent over
which each would form the surface soil; their superficial
breadth being determined simply by the more or less
gradual slope of the ground, and the thicknesses of the
strata so intersected or “ out-cropping. But this is
found to be rarely the case; the strata are inclined to
the horizon, and some more, some less so; and being
intersected by or “out-cropping” at the surface, and
that surface being an uneven one, the belts which they
form on it neither follow level lines, nor are bounded
by parallel outlines. It is therefore to the thickness, in¬
clination, and order, if any, of superposition of the strata,
that we have to look for a key to the extent, configura¬
tion, and order of arrangement, side by side, of minera-
lo^ical and agricultural districts.
°(109.) So long as mineralogical characters only were
referred to as distinctive of a “ formation,” it could never
be positively asserted that any definite order of succession
existed. The same kind of rock, a limestone for instance,
mmht be found bordering in area, or superposed in level,
on many different kinds of rock. But when the attention
of geologists came to be directed to the fossil remains of
animals and vegetables imbedded in them, it was found
possible to assign to each formation characters so definite,
drawn from these its fossil contents, as to admit of an
unbroken order of succession being recognized, not in
one county or district, but over the whole surface of the
globe. It is this grand generalization which, worked out
to its full extent by modern geologists (the hint being
furnished by a countryman of our own, William Smith,
with a long array of British names, many of them those
of our contemporaries, standing pre-eminent in the list),
has led to the full establishment of those magnificent
views of the history of our globe which are embodied in
our articles 9 and 10.
(110.) In traversing a country in a direction always per¬
pendicular to the lines of demarcation of its geological
districts, then, it is found, as a general fact, that we
always come upon the strata in a determinate older o
succession, which, taken in one direction, leads ultimately
up to a district or mass of unstratified rock, through a
series whose fossils differ more and more from the exist¬
ing organisms; or, on the other, to one bearing evident
marks of recent origin, the fossils it contains imbedded
being the remains of organized beings now existing, and
the material wanting in that solidity and cohesion which
indicate age and pressure. The series of stratified rocks,
then, reposes on the unstratified, and to this^ no exceptions
are found (or extremely rare ones), except in cases wheie
volcanic action has poured out liquid matter over or
among the others, which has cooled into rocky masses.
(111.) Assuming the horizontal deposition of each stratum
in its origin, inclination is in itself evidence of subsequent
disturbance ; and when we find, as a general rule, that the
lower the stratum in the order of superposition, the gi eater
the disturbance of this kind it has undergone, those in
the immediate vicinity of the unstratified rocks being often
vertical, much shattered and contorted, and even, in some
few cases, actually overturned or doubled back, and that
upon the broken edges of these, others have been depo-
sitedhorizontally, andthese again disturbed, though in a less
degree ; the conclusion is irresistible, that it is to the intru
sion from below, and forcible upheaval, at successive inter¬
vals, with intervening periods of repose, of the unstratified
masses, that the disturbance has been owing, and the whole
series raised from the ocean bed, not merely to its present
level, but to such a level as to admit of the upper portions
of -the upheaved strata being subsequently degraded and.
carried away, so as to leave the land as we now find it.
Were it not for the evidence these facts of universal oc¬
currence afford, and for the additional proofs afforded by
the corroborative one, that in every case where a section
can be observed or concluded on both sides of a central
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
^Physical mass of this kind, the strata succeed one another in the
G«)g'apj;same order outward, and “dip” everywhere from the
central line, we might hesitate to accept, so far as these
rocks are concerned, the position of their upheaval. But
when we come to look upon them, not, indeed, as the
pnma mohlia, but at least as the instruments, the levers
and wedges with which the real primum mobile, the central
heat, does its rough work on the crust of our globe, they
lose their claim to this ideal permanence, and come to
be considered as, in fact, newer than the rocks they pene¬
trate and displace.
(112.) We must refer to our article on Geology, and to
works especially treating of that subject, for an enumera¬
tion of the long series of strata interposed between the
granitic and other unstratified rocks, and the last-deposited
alluvium, as well as for an account of their characteristic
fossils, in detail. There is probably no part of the world
in which all, or even the major part of these strata, exist
actually superposed. The series is for the most part
broken by the absence of many of its members; neces¬
sarily so, indeed, since what was covered with water
during one epoch, and therefore a receptacle for the
deposit proper to it, became dry land during another, and
therefore ceased to receive such as were then elsewhere
in process of formation. But the order is never inverted.
The beginning, middle, and end of each form of organic
life can be traced, one form, indeed, overlapping another,
but once extinct, never reappearing in the formations of a
later epoch. By a singular felicity, which has influenced
more than anything the progress of geology, the British
Islands afford, condensed into a small compass, the nearest
approach to a complete series of the strata which pro¬
bably exists anywhere, and within their area (active vol¬
canic agency excepted) there is hardly any form of geo¬
logical upheaval and dislocation which is not exemplified,
the Isle of Wight being especially remarkable as an
instance.
(113.) Without going into detail, however, it will be
advisable to give here a very brief summary of the prin¬
cipal groups into which geologists divide the strata, and
their distribution. Here are—Is*, The older Igneous for¬
mations, consisting of Granite and Granitoid rocks, such
as Syenites, Porphyries, &c., in which no trace of any
schistose or stratified structure is discernible. 2d, The
Crystalline Schists or Metamorphic Rocks, such as Gneiss,
Mica slate, Quartzite, Serpentine, &c., in which a tendency
to cleavage, or to a fibrous structure, is for the most part
perceptible—arising, as Professors Tyndall and Sorbey
have rendered very probable, from pressure, prior to con¬
solidation, giving parallel directions to particles of mica,
and which cause has certainly produced the “ slaty cleav¬
age ” in the true slates. These rocks contain no fossils,
and, as Sir C. Lyell supposes, have been subjected to a
heat so near to fusion, as to obliterate any vestiges of
organic life they may have once contained. 2>d, The
Lower Palasozoic or Silurian system of Sir R. Murchison,
in which the stratification is evident, and the earliest
vestiges of life are found—mainly fishes, molluscs, and
zoophytes. In these, too, and in the metamorphic rocks,
the principal metallic deposits occur. Ath, The Upper
Palasozoic, subdivided into the Devonian or Old Red
Sandstone, the Carboniferous and Mountain Limestone,
and the Permian or Magnesian Limestone, with the Lower
New Red Sandstone. In this series fossils are abundant,
and it derives immense importance from being the seat of
the coal measures in every part of the world, bth, The
Mesozoic group, comprising the Lias and Oolites, the
Muschelkalk and Keuper, the Jura Limestone, and the
Chalk, comprehending, as their highest member (or the
lowest of the next succeeding group, according to more
587
recent authorities), the Nummulite Limestone. 6tb, The Physical
Tertiary deposits, divided by Sir C. Lyell into Eocene, Geography.
Meiocene, and Pleiocene, as indicating three stages of
progress towards the now existing species of organized
beings. 7t/i, The Alluvial and Boulder formation, consist¬
ing of modern detritus and erratic matter. 8t/i, and lastly,
The Volcanic or Newer Igneous formations, trap, basalt,
&c., which occur indifferently in every part of the series.
(114.) The proportions in which these several “forma¬
tions ” occupy the area of the existing land, is very diffe¬
rent. The older igneous rocks, granite, syenite, &c.,
occupy but a comparatively small aliquot part of the
whole surface, and in masses of little continuity, as might
naturally be expected, tvhen it is considered that it is only
when actually thrust through the whole series, so as to
tower above them all (as in some of the highest peaks of
Mont Blanc), they would of themselves come into view, and
that in all other cases they would only be laid bare by the
destruction of the whole superincumbent series. In only
a few districts in Europe are any extensive continuous
granitic formations disclosed ; such as in the north-west of
Portugal and the south-west of Spain (if the whole of
what is laid down as such in maps be really granite)—
in the interval between the Bug and Dnieper (in Vol-
hynia, Kiew, Podolia, and Cherson)—between Dresden
and Gbrlitz—in the Grampian mountains in Scotland—
the Lofoden Isles on the coast of Norway—in Corsica
and Sardinia, &c. The southern chain of the Ural
Mountains is also granitic; and across France, the district
running south-west from St Malo and Ushant towards
Avignon, the granite occurs in frequent masses, their line
of direction, when continued, passing through Corsica and
Sardinia. Indeed, thei’e is hardly any extensive region
of the globe in which, here and there, a granitic mass does
not break forth. Along the east coast of Brazil there is
a continuous granitic band from Rio to the mouth of the
San Francisco River.
(115.) It is otherwise with the Metamorphic group, com¬
prising the gneiss, mica slate, &c. These cover large and
continuous districts, as, for instance, in Europe, nearly the
whole extent of Sweden, Lapland, and Finland, except a
narrow belt on the Baltic coast; almost the whole coast
of Norway ; nearly all the northern half of Scotland, from
Perth northwards; nearly all the higher Alpine district
of Switzerland and Tyrol, from Grenoble to Gratz ; all
the crest line of the Ural chain of mountains ; probably
the whole of Greenland, Labrador, and all the land north
of Hudson’s Bay; all the southern portion of Canada
and the British North American possessions, up to the
chain of lakes; and the Arctic sea-coast, as far as the
Coppermine River; the whole of Russian America, as
well as the eastern corner of Asia, as far as the river
Kolyma. Proceeding southwards, we find nearly the
whole of Tartary, a great part of China, the Malayan and
much of the Cambodian peninsula; the southern part of
the peninsulas of India and Arabia ; nearly all that
is known of Southern Africa, up to the Deserts, with ex¬
ception of the Cape Colony ; and in South America nearly
all Brazil, Guiana, and a considerable portion of Vene¬
zuela, on the eastern side, and the chain of the Andes
on the western, occupied with this most widely distri¬
buted and important formation, which, in effect, in¬
cludes within its range almost all the highest mountains
and most elevated country in the globe. Nearly two-
thirds of the interior of Australia, also, would appear, so
far as our information gees, to be occupied by it—so that
at least one third of the total surface of the land consists
of this formation.
(116.) The next formation in point of extent, as it is in
order, is what has been termed the Transition Series, com-
588
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical prehending the whole of the Silurian, and the lo™el P°
Geography.lion of the fourth or UPP^M*02010^011?’
' carboniferous limestone. Its greatest tie
the northern portions of the continents, extending over
major part of European Russia up to the Ural’ Ove
basins of the upper ^ a^^nesm, of^
basins ot tne upper j.rLi&uu ^ . q
kal Lake, together with the district occupied by
Kai xid p ^ a ij.„: n/r~,s«+cGna m which the
novoi, Ourakantsha, and Altai Mountains, rn „om_
Kolvma and Indigirka rivers take their use. .
^araCeiy small portion of Norway which is not occupied
by metamorphic rocks is filled with these strata I ^
own islands they have considerable development, as
in Portugal In North America, they divide,
metamorphic rocks, the whole of that imme^e territory
east of the Rocky Mountains, with exception of a com
paratively small district west ^ Andes Tn
South America they skirt the whole line of the Andes on
the east side, spreading over Bolivia, and form g
bordering La Plata and Patagonia on the west, along the
whole extent. In Australia, likewise, they occupy
such belts, parallel to one another, running along the
whole east coast from the northern to the southern ext -
mit(l 17.) The Secondary Formation, comprising the
series from the Permian beds upwards, and including
the chalk, viz. the Upper Sandstone, Lias, Oolite, Oreen-
sands Chalk, and Nummulite limestone, is very much
more limited in its range. It is represented in England
by the chalk-beds and other deposits in the south-east
of the island, cut off by a line running from the mouth ot
the Tees to Exeter ; on the eastern side by a broad belt
of no great continuity, being often . overlaid by the
tertiary beds, but in which it is impossible not to trace a
certain unity, continuing the east Anglican formation,
in a direction from N.TV. to S.E., over the whole ot
the south of Europe and the north of Africa, down to
Egypt on the one hand, and over much of Asia Minor,
through Arabia and Persia, into the Indian peninsula.
Thence the belt (with larger interruptions) takes a northern
direction, reappearing in Thibet, and again in China, in
the districts of Setchuan and Hoo Quang. Again tending
northwards, it reappears along the whole eastern coast ot
the Sea of Japan, and the western of that of Ochotzk,
forming the sea-bord of the Kamschatkan peninsula. In
the western continent it is much more sparingly repre¬
sented, the states of Kansas and Nebraska being the only
portion of North America occupied by it, while in South
America it has as yet hardly been traced at all, with ex¬
ception of a small district on the Orinoco River, at the
northern extremity of that continent.
(118.) One of the most remarkable features of this vast
formation (of its cretaceous members, that is to say), is
the astonishing fact disclosed by microscopic examination,
of its consisting almost entirely of the exuviae of minute
animalcules. In the Chalk, properly so called, they exist
in such abundance, and of such minuteness, that millions
have been reckoned to the cubic inch; and in the K um-
mulite limestone, so called from the shells of that name it
imbeds, which forms nearly the whole of the south Euro¬
pean and African portions of the formation (attaining,
in some parts of its distribution, a thickness of many thou¬
sand feet) it consists entirely of minute foraminifcrous
shells, whole or in fragments; and it may be added, that
the green and ferruginous sands which present themselves
interposed between and underlying these deposits, have also
been discovered by Ehrenberg to consist of casts of such
shells, the shells themselves having disappeared. We
have seen that in the North Atlantic, the process of the
formation of such beds is still in progress, and from the
bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, and the Gulf Stream, such
casts, together with living specimens, have been brought up G^cal
in sounding (Carpenter, B. Inst. Proceedings, March 12,
(111).) We may here recall what has been stated xe-
soectino- the extensive formations of calcareous subma¬
rine masses by the labours of the coral insect. Such facts
would be utterly incredible but for what we know of the
astonishing rapidity of multiplication of these minute forms
of animal life. Dr Carpenter computes the progeny ot a
pair of aphides, if allowed to accumulate, at the end of one
year, at a trillion. Granting the reproduction of marine
animalcules to be a thousand billion times less rapid than that
of aphides—granting that each of them, during its life¬
time (supposed not interfered with, and fopd supplied), se¬
creted only a ten-millionth part of a cubic inch of inde¬
structible calcareous matter—we should find accumulated,
in less than a quarter of a century, a globe of such mate¬
rial, whose diameter would exceed the distance travelled
by liodit since the ordinarily received epoch of the crea¬
tion (4004 b. C.), and the surface of the globe, supposed
to continue increasing at the same rate, would then be
swelling out into space a great many thousand times taster
than the speed of light. There needs, then, only a resi¬
dual immunity for a very small percentage of those pro¬
duced to afford scope for the production of all the calca¬
reous formations existing; and the same may be said ot
all those geological formations, such as the I ohshing blate
of Bilin (40,000,000 to the cubic inch!), the Infusorial tor-
mations in Holland, &c., which microscopic examination
has shewn to consist of infusorial and other exuviae.
(120.) The Tertiary formations occupy a very large por¬
tion of the whole surface of the land. They are found
(as the circumstances of their deposition necessitate)
occupying the intervals and hollows of all the other for-
mations, and that, too, occasionally at such considerable
elevations above the actual sea-level, as suffice to shew
the enormous period which must have elapsed since their
deposition. Thus, in Chile we find them at 1500 feet, in
the Isle of Ischia at an elevation of 2000 feet, and in the
Niti Pass, in Thibet, at an elevation of no less than 17,UUU
feet. In England they are not largely developed, but on
the continent they form a broad belt, extending all across
Europe from the Baltic to the Black Sea, and including
nearly the whole of Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark,
Hanover, Prussia, Poland, great part of Austria, including
nearly the whole course of the lower Danube, the southern
provinces of European Russia down to the Black bea;
thence entering Asia across the Sea of Azof, they occupy
the whole of the Caucasian district between that sea
and the Caspian, together with the depressed basin oc¬
cupied by the latter and the Sea of Aral, and nearly the
whole of Western Tartary. Thence sweeping upward to
the north, they cover an immense area, extending to t e
Gulf of Obi in length, and in breadth from the Obi to the
Yenesei, that is to say, nearly the whole of Western
Siberia. Southward, the Great Desert of Northern Afnca
would seem to belong to these formations, as well as tie
bulk of Arabia, Persia, and Upper India; the deserts o
Gobi and Shamo are also considered as being perhaps
referable to the same geological district.
(121.) In the American continent the disposal of these
strata is very remarkable. In the northern continent
they form a broad belt, running west of the Rocky Moun¬
tains from the Polar Sea to the head of the Gulf oi
California; while in the southern they follow all the
sinuosities of the coast line, in a band of from 300 to GOO
miles in breadth, on the eastern side of the slope of the
Andes, and separated from them by the secondary belt
already mentioned. The central portions of Australia,
too, are probably occupied by members of this series.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical (122.) Taken together, then, the Metamorphic and
Geography. Tertiary strata occupy the lion’s share of all the existing
continents, the intermediate formations having been, for
the most part, denuded from the former, while they must
be assumed still to exist underlying the latter, which, from
all the phenomena of their occurrence, there is little reason
to doubt have been formed of the immediate detritus of
adjacent land during the countless ages which have been
occupied in its upheaval.
(123.) The Volcanic or newer Igneous formations are
distributed over the globe in a manner wonderfully indi¬
cative of the universality of those deep-seated causes
which have produced them. They break through every
other formation, not excepting the granite itself, as in the
case of the Auvergne volcanoes, which, over a large district,
divide the surface of the country with granite, every other
formation being wanting, and whose scorim are found
enveloping masses of feldspathic granite, torn up by them
in the act of their ejection.
(124.) Volcanoes are either extinct or active, and
either subaerial or submarine. In the former case
they usually consist of cones of ashes and scoriae (lava
thrown up into the air, melted, and falling as stone in
various broken and contorted forms), with a funnel-shaped
depression called the crater, from which (frequently from
a deep break in one part or other of the rim) lava
streams have issued, coating the older layers of ashes,
and binding the whole together as a mass, often intersected
with dykes or vertical walls of lava. When lofty, the
lava frequently breaks out laterally, and when such out¬
breaks are accompanied with ejections of scoriae, lateral
cones are formed, of which Vesuvius, and especially Etna,
exhibit striking examples. Some volcanoes habitually
pour forth torrents of lava during their eruptions, as
Hecla, Vesuvius, Etna; others chiefly scoriae and vol¬
canic dust, as those of Sumatra, Java, &c.; others
mud, as often happens in the eruptions of the South
American volcanoes, and one (the double crater of
Mowna Roa and Kirauia in Owyhee) offers the pheno¬
menon of two perpetual seething cauldrons of liquid
and red-hot lava, occasionally overflowing, but never
ejected with violence. The lavas of modern volcanoes
differ much in character, but are seldom or never
columnar or basaltic.
(125.) Extinct volcanoes often exhibit every appear¬
ance of active ones, except their activity. In Auvergne,
and the adjacent volcanic districts of France, we find
cones (as that of Ayzac) which, but for the trees growing
in the crater, might have been supposed in eruption not
many years ago, pouring out lavas beautifully columnar;
others, as the Puys of Clermont, with the craters more
or less rounded off by weather, but still quite distinct,
and the lava currents flooding the surrounding country ;
others, again, (as that of Agde), water-washed heaps of
scorias. Over many vast tracts of country deluges of
lava (as in the Vivarais, and Cantal, in France) have
flowed, taking a perfectly level surface, like a sea, and,
therefore, evidently from a subaerial source; in others
(as in the valley of Fassa in Tyrol), vast subterranean up-
wellings of augitic lava of inky blackness have upheaved
whole provinces of pure white limestone, and, by some
process of sublimation, while splintering them into the
most picturesque pinnacles, have, at the same time,
impregnated them with magnesia, converting the lime¬
stone into dolomite. Others, again, have broken out,
and still occasionally break out, as at Santorino, Pantel-
laria, Sabrina (Azores), beneath the sea, and have either,
after a brief appearance, been washed over and obliterated,
or remain as permanent insular craters, of which innu¬
merable instances occur—Teneriffe, Mowna Roa, Jan
589
Mayen’s Island, the Peak of the Azores (El Pico), the Physical
Isle of Bourbon, &c. Geography.
(126.) The quantity of material ejected by volcanoes
in eruption is sometimes very enormous. In those of
Tomboro, in Sumbawa, in 1815, ashes and scoriae were
thrown out sufficient to form three mountains equal to
Mont Blanc, or to cover the whole of Germany two feet
deep. The lava which streamed, in 1783, from the
Skaptar Jokul, in Iceland, has been computed on Sir C.
Lyell’s data (Geol. i. 375) at 21 cubic miles, a quantity
equal in volume to the whole of the water poured by the
Nile into the sea in a year.
(127.) The most striking features connected with the
exhibition of active volcanoes, are 1st., Their tendency to a
linear arrangement when insular. Of this, there are many
very striking examples. Thus, in the Aleutian Islands,
from the extremity of the Peninsula of Aliaska to the
Island of Ostrova Semisopothnie, 23 active volcanoes
lie almost precisely in a right line, 900 geographical
miles in length. The disposition of eleven active vents,
which, with many extinct ones, form the Kurile Islands,
600 geographical miles from the extremity of Kams-
chatka to Yesso, is also almost an exact right line, which
might be prolonged 540 geographical miles northward,
by taking in those of Kamschatka, which are obvi¬
ously a continuation of them. Those of the Ladrone
Islands, again, form a straight line, 420 geographical miles
in length ; and the linear arrangement of those of Java,
Sumbawa, and Floris, over a length of 1080 geographical
miles, is not less exact and characteristic. ‘idly, Their
constant association with coast-lines, which is so marked a
character, that hardly more than one or two tolerably
well authenticated instances have been produced (and
those in regions never visited by European travellers)
of volcanoes habitually active, occurring at a distance
greater than 300 miles from the sea. These are the
volcanoes of Peshan and Ho-tcheou, in the Thian Shan
Mountains, which the Chinese annals (cited by Hum¬
boldt) describe as having been so within the period they
embrace; and one on Lake Alakul, whose activity
within the memory of man has been rendered very ques¬
tionable by the recent explorations of Mr Atkinson
(Oriental and Western Siberia, p. 562^). Mount Dema-
wend, in Persia, indeed, is considerably more remote from
the ocean ; but it is on the borders of the Caspian Sea, in the
prolongation of the great Mediterranean fissure, and at the
vei-y extremity of a broad belt of volcanic activity, now for
the most part extinct, which, commencing with Iceland,
extends through Britain, France, Southern Europe, and
Asia Minor, skirting the Mediterranean, the Euxine, and
the Sea of Azof, which, there is every reason to believe,
at no very remote period, to have been connected with
the Caspian.
(128.) The number of volcanoes certainly known to
have been in activity within the last 160 years amounts,
according to Humboldt, to 225, and the total number of
volcanic vents, extinct and active, to 407 ; but the real
number is probably much greater. M. Junghuhn enu¬
merates 19 volcanoes in Sumatra, and 45 in Java; and
according to M. Laugel (Rev. des Deux Mondes, xiii. 353),
there are no less than 900 in the vast archipelago
extending round Borneo from the Nicobar Islands to the
Philippines.
(129.) Besides volcanoes ejecting scorim and lava, there
occur, sometimes separate, sometimes associated with the
former class, mountains evidently of igneous origin, but
of which the material (trachyte, domite, etc.) has appa¬
rently issued from the earth in so imperfect a state of
fluidity as not to run, but to form rounded masses, some¬
times of great height. The Puy de Sarcouy, in the
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
590
Physical chain of volcanoes at Clermont, is a very characteristic
Geography, specimen; and the Puy de Dome itself consists ot this
material, and does not appear ever to have been, propel y
speaking, in eruption.
(130.) By far the greater number of volcanoes, and ot
the active ones an immense majority, occur upon the
coast-line of the Pacific, regarded as prolonged by the
chain of islands and the Australian coast down to V an
Diemen’s Land and New Zealand, and even to the active
volcanoes of Mount Erebus, and the extinct one (.) o
Mount Terror, in South Victoria. Thus viewed, indeed,
the Pacific may be considered as bordered by an almost
continuous line of recent and extinct volcanoes, and o
igneous rocks, clearly owing their origin to volcanic
action. Along the whole chain of the Andes, in Central
America, and in Mexico, almost all the loftiest peaks are
volcanic ortrachytic, and the earthquake and eruption aie
normal, and not exceptional events. Along the north-west
coast of the American continent, the chain of newer igneous
formations is almost continuous, and in Oregon attains
an immense development; nor are active volcanoes of
great magnitude wanting, but only those parts of the vol¬
canic zone which he upon the coast-line contain such, viz.,
Mounts Regnier and St Helens, at the mouth ot the
Columbia river. The line is continued along the coast ot
Russian America by the Cerra de Buontempo, or Mount
Fair weather (14,732 feet), Mount St Elias (Ig^oO feet),
and Wrangel’s Volcano (N. lat. 62°), in Russian Ame¬
rica. From almost the extreme west point ot. the
American continent, on the Aliaskan peninsula (which is
igneous), the chain is continued to Kamschatka by the
Aleutian Isles, where eruptions are frequent, and a new
island rose in 1814, and thence, in almost unbroken suc¬
cession, by the Kurile and Japanese Islands (where out¬
breaks are frequent, and of excessive violence) through
Formosa and the Philippines down to the Indian Archi¬
pelago, where Sumatra, Java, Sumbawa, and Floris,
exhibit a perfect rookery of volcanoes, the scene of one of
the most dreadful eruptions of modern times (that of
Tomboro above noticed).
(131.) The east coast of Australia offers no active
volcano, but it is marked along its whole extent, from
north to south, with evidences of former igneous activity,
occurring (in striking resemblance with what prevails on
the opposite coast in South America) among the crystal¬
line and transition rocks which constitute the general sea-
bord. But the subterranean fires would seem here to
have shifted their ground, and taken up a new line ot
action to seaward, at an interval of from 1000 to 1200
geographical miles from the coast, but still conforming to
its curvature, prolonging the series through the Solomon
Islands, New Hebrides, and Friendly Isles, to New
Zealand.
(132.) It seems impossible to disconnect this obviously
systematic arrangement with the general evidence we
have, from other sources, of the tendency to continued
elevation of the coast line of the Andes, and, indeed, of
the whole continent of South America, on the one hand,
and of depression over a large portion of the bed of the
Pacific, on the other—alterations which would naturally
result from a change in the incidence of pressure on the
general substratum of liquefied matter which supports the
whole. The bed of an ocean supported on a yielding
substratum may be depressed without a corresponding de¬
pression of its surface, by the simple laying on of material,
whether abraded from the land or chemically abstracted
from the sea itself. That matter is in process of abrasion
and transportation from the land into the ocean at every
instant, and along every coast line, we know as a matter
of fact. We know, too, that all existing strata, however
enormous their thickness, have been formed at the bottom Physical
of the sea, and it is therefore no hypothesis, but a perfectly Geography,
legitimate assumption, that the same process is still in
progress, no matter how slowly, from this cause, at least
in the vicinity of coast lines; and when we look at the
vast amount of organized exuviae which constitute so
large a portion of many of the secondary and tertiary
beds the secretions of mollusca, infusoria, and zoophytes
 and bearing in mind the large proportion of continental
substance which has been so formed, look to the evidence
afforded by deep-sea soundings (42), and by coral.forma¬
tions (87), that the same process is going forward in open
sea, far out of the reach of coast washing and river deposit
(the material being taken up chemically by the river and
coast waters, and chemically extracted from them, when
diffused by currents, by the processes of organic life), we
shall at once perceive that any amount of pressure on the
one hand, and relief on the other, which the geologist
can possibly require to work out his problem, and any
law' of distribution of that relief and that pressure, is
available without calling in the aid of unknown causes.
(133.) Rocks of igneous origin border the west coast of
Greenland : and the chain of the Ural, along its eastern
side, offers evidence, in the intermixture of newer igneous
with granitic and metamorphic rocks, of having been, at
some very ancient period, a line of volcanic activity. I he
only other great systems of igneous rock, referable eithei
to subaerial or submarine volcanoes, are those which
occupy the Mysore country in the peninsula of Hindostan,
and a great area in the centre of Africa, ot which, how¬
ever, our present information is extremely scanty.
(134.) “Craters of elevation” are supposed by Yon Buch
to have originated in a general swelling and “upheaving of
the strata, by the action of subterranean fire or expansive
vapour, round a central point, either without, or antece¬
dent to, actual eruption. In some cases the central
portion is supposed to have fallen in, and to have subse¬
quently become a habitual volcanic vent, as in the case
of Teneriffe and Vesuvius, where the remains of the old
crater or broken dome still exist, partially surrounding
and inclosing the modern cone.
(135.) Mean elevation of the Continents, Level Lines, Lines
of greatest and least Declivity, Valleys and Ridges, Lakes,
Drainage Basins.—Barometrical observations, both station¬
ary and itinerant, assisted of late by that very useful and
portable form of the barometer called the aneroid, which
can be read off in a carriage or on horseback, have been
now so far extended over the whole accessible surface of
the globe, as to afford ground for a reasonable conclusion
respecting the average elevation of the surface of the
land above the sea-level, and a very accurate one as to
those of mountain chains and summits. The conclusion
arrived at is not a little remarkable, and quite contra¬
dictory to former impressions. The mean height of the
surface of the dry land most probably does not exceed one-
fifteenth of the mean depth of the bed of the ocean. I he
following are given by Humboldt as the approximate
heights of the centres of gravity of the continents above
the sea level, viz., Europe 671 feet, Asia 1132, North
America 748, South America 1151; from which it follow's
that the mean elevations of their surfaces (the doubles of
these) are' respectively 1342, 2264, 1496, and 2302 feet.
Africa, from what we know' of its interior, with the
additional light lately thrown on it by Dr Livingstone, is
probably intermediate between Europe and Asia, and its
mean height may therefore be reckoned at 1800 feet, so
that a general average of the whole would give about this
last-named height for the mean height above the sea-level
of the surface of the w7hole land. A rise of the ocean
level, therefore, to this extent would submerge at least
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical three-fourths of the existing area of the land. It is
^5^3" remarkable for how moderate an item the great mountain
masses of the world figure in the general result. The
Alps, spread equally over the surface of Europe, would
raise the general level no more than 21 feet (Humboldt);
and the vast mountain chains of Asia, so treated, would
afford a superstratum of only 150 feet thick over that
continent (Ansted), the elevated desert of Gobi, 128, and
the whole plateau of Thibet, with its flanking chains, 358.
(13G.) If we suppose a series of level lines marking out
elevations above the sea, rising progressively by steps of
100 feet, these of course Avould be the coast-lines of the
land left outstanding were the sea to rise by such succes¬
sive degrees ; and if we suppose the same continued below
the sea-level we should in like manner obtain the depressed
coast-lines. Thus we should cover our chart of the world
with a series of re-entering curves or ovals, more or
less complicated, each summit and each cavity being sur¬
rounded by a series of its own—the one series expi'essing
a mountain, the other a basin. Where the same level
line makes a loop by crossing itself (at what may be
termed a jugal point [_jugwn]), we have a col [collum~\ or
mountain-pass, across which lies the lowest, shortest, and
steepest course by which it is possible to pass out of one
basin into another, or from one branch of a basin to
another branch, and along which the shortest, highest,
and least inclined path from summit to summit.
(137.) Two descriptions of lines intersect the level¬
lines of a country at right angles, viz., lines of water¬
shed (wasser-scheide,1 separation of the waters) or ridge¬
lines, and valleys or river-courses. The former, in pro¬
ceeding downwards from a summit, intersect the level¬
lines at their convexities or greatest horizontal distances
from the summit, and are, consequently, the paths of
gentlest declivity, or the longest lines of descent from
a higher to a lower level. The latter intersect them
in their concavities, or least distances, and are the
lines of greatest steepness or swiftest descent, and, of
course, those chosen by streams whose erosive action
is perpetually deepening them. Where the bottom of a
basin lies above the sea-level, or, if lower, is separated
from the sea by inclosing i*idge lines, it becomes filled,
wholly or in part, with water, and constitutes a lake, with
or without an outlet. If wholly, the water finds a vent
at the lowest jugal point or lip, and the lake becomes a
feeder of a river, or in some cases of several, issuing by
distinct outlets, as in the instance of the Lakeof Yojoa in
Honduras (Squier). In this case its supply exceeds its
evaporation. In the contrary case, the area occupied by
the water adjusts itself so as to effect an equilibrium
between the evaporation and supply. The former case
is that of infinitely the most common occurrence, and
lakes thus fed from a number of upland sources, to
which they serve as reservoirs, issue in rivers, or, if
above the limit of perpetual snow, they become “neves”
in glaciers. The latter case can never happen in moist
climates, since, however large the basin, and however
high the lip, it must at length become filled, and overflow;
but in arid regions, especially in very elevated districts,
in which the habitual siccity of the upper atmosphere
(see Meteorology, art. 88) comes in aid of otherwise
favourable local circumstances, it is not uncommon, as, for
instance, in the Lake of Titicaca, on the lofty plateau of
the Desaguadero in Bolivia, upwards of 12,000 feet above
the sea; in the Salt Lake of Utah, on the elevated region
north of Mexico ; in the Lakes Tchad, ’Ngami, and Nyassi,
in Africa, &c. But the most remarkable instance of such a
“ continental basin,” or one in which all the waters run
591
inwards, terminating in inland seas and salt lakes (for, Physical
owing to the perpetual concentration of the drainage water Geography,
by evaporation, such inland collections of water are of
necessity more or less salt), is to be found in the great
continental basin of Central Asia, an area of nearly
3,000,000 square miles, which includes the Caspian Sea,
the Sea of Aral, and a vast multitude of inland rivers of
all magnitudes which feed them, and innumerable other
salt lakes, such as the Lakes Yan and Urumiah in Ar¬
menia, the Lakes of Balkasch, Issikul (or Touz), Alakul,
and Kezilbasch, in Turkistan, the Lake Lob or Loph in
Upper Tartary, &c. &c. Of these, some are situated on
elevated plateaus, but the Caspian and Aral Seas are situ¬
ated in an extensive depression, an area of several hundred
thousand square miles in extent, actually below the sea-
level, the surface of the Caspian itself being 84 feet
below the Black Sea.
(138.) A still more remarkable instance of depression
below the sea-level, and consequent internal drainage,
resulting in a lake of almost saturated brine (which is
also the case with that of Utah), is that of the Dead Sea,
in Palestine, fed by the River Jordan, the level of whose
surface has been satisfactorily proved to be no less than
1312 feet below the Mediterranean, from which it is
separated only by a narrow belt of land, occupied by the
chain of Mount Lebanon, about fifty miles in breadth.
There can be little doubt that the Jordan at some former
period flowed into the Gulf of Akabah, in the Red Sea,
and its course being depressed into a deeper valley, or the
connexion cut off, by some geological change elevating
the southern part of the valley, the sea-water continued
to occupy this basin, which, when the gulf in question
filled the valley, extended to the Lake of Tiberias, the
surface of which being 983 feet above the Dead Sea, its
salt water has been all washed down into the latter by
the river flowing through it. Such a barrier once in
existence, the increasing specific gi’avity of the water
would counteract the effect of subterranean percolation
from the Mediterranean (Fox). The waters of the Dead
Sea have a specific gravity of 1*24 (Marcet), so that
were a narrow channel of communication opened at a
depth of about 7670 feet below the surface of the Medi¬
terranean, the two seas would remain in equilibria by
equality of hydrostatic pressure.
(139.) In the upheaval of any extensive tract of land
from the sea, hollows fitted for lake basins cannot fail to
be left. If the upheaval be rude and paroxysmal, result¬
ing in the formation of mountain chains, and accompanied
with fracture and dislocation of the strata, such hollows
will be deep, precipitous, and narrow in proportion to
their length. Such is the general character of the lakes
in mountainous regions—of the Swiss lakes, for instance,
those of North Italy, of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and
Scotland, &c. On the other hand, where the upheaving
forces have acted more gently and gradually, and have
raised the country with more uniformity, producing ex¬
tensive plains and low steppes, lakes will not only be
more numerous, by reason of the less erosive power of
running water to drain them by deepening their outlets,
but will affect more rounded forms, and cover the country
with shallow pools or ponds void of all picturesque beauty,
as we see exemplified in Poland, and in the districts
between the Gulf of Finland and the White Sea, which
are almost connected by a great chain of shallow lakes,
some of them (as those of Onega and Ladoga) very ex¬
tensive. Occasionally, too, lake basins come to be created
by what may be called accidents, as by volcanic ejections
barring the courses of rivers, as in the instance of the
1 This word is used in a wrong sense in Meteorology. Art. 93.
592
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical Lake of Aidat, near Clermont in France, produced in
Geography. this manner by the lava of the Puy de la Vac o
^mO)! Every line of watershed continued downwards
terminates either in a lake or in the sea, and always (ot
necessity) in a promontory, or more or less Fojectmg
tongue of land, or salient point of coast line. The
bounded on the land side by one continuous line of wate
shed, and to the seaward by the sea itself, co
the drainage basin of whatever river flows into the sea
between its extreme promontories.
(141 ) The river courses and watershed lines then toim
a double system of allineations, the one branching out trom
the lowest cavities or pits, for the most part concealec
below the sea; the other from the mountain summits.
As the river branches can never be traced up beyond a
certain degree of minuteness, nor the ridge lines below
the sea level, these two systems have no common points,
the fibres of one being always interposed between those
of the other, so that, in the absence ot one system
of lines on a chart, it can always be approximately
traced if the other be correctly mapped; and. thus the limits
of basins of drainage admit of being assigned, and the
area of a country divided among its several rivers, the
courses of rivers being generally much better laid down
than the mountain system of a country. P or a list ot the
superficial extent of the basins of the principal rivers ot
the world, according to the best authorities, as at present
known, and the lengths of their main streams, see
Appendix. .
(142.) General Distribution of Mountains.— When we
cast our eyes on a complete and well-executed set of
charts of the mountain systems of the world, such for
instance as those in the Physical Atlas of Mr Keith
Johnston, it is impossible not to be struck with the con¬
trast exhibited between those of the New and Old V orld.
In the former, besides a general direction of the great
mountain chains approximating to a meridional one, we
find a continuity, unbroken except in a few small intervals
in the narrow isthmus connecting the two Americas, of
a vast and extremely precipitous line of very elevated
mountains, running from the Arctic Ocean almost to the
extremity of Patagonia, including 120° of latitude, or
7200 geographical miles (8280 statute miles), skirting
along the western coast of that immense continent, closely
following all its flexures in the southern half; and in the
northern, opening out somewhat more, it is true, in
breadth, and decreasing in average height, but still pre¬
serving the same general character of a lofty mountainous
western border to a vast expanse of eastern low¬
lands. And throughout the whole extent of this border,
we perceive a most distinct and unmistakeable ten¬
dency to a system of double or triple ridges nearly or
exactly parallel, not here and there for short distances,
but extending for hundreds of miles in succession, and
resumed again and again when interrupted. In the Old
World, on the other hand, we find no single well-defined
continuous chain running throughout, much less follow¬
ing the coast line, but a broad belt of mountainous
country traversing the whole mass of land in a general
direction, nearly at right angles to the meridians, and
carried through the heart of the continents, from the
exti’emity of Europe and North Africa across to the western
shores of the Pacific. In the European portion of this
system, linear prolongation, except in the Pyrenees, is
very far from distinctly indicated. On the contrary, divari¬
cation and embranchment are there the dominant features,
as they are especially so in the north-eastern region of
Asia ; and it requires some determination in tracing con¬
nections, to follow out a leading line through the Pyrenees,
the hi "her Alps, the Caucasus, and the mountains of Physical
Elbrouz, through the Hindu Koh, up to the great system
of Asiatic mountains which enclose the plateau erf Thibet.
Neither is the principle of parallel association carried out
with anything like the same precision and sequence in
the old as in the new continent. Along the Caucasian
and Elbrouz range, and as far as the termination of the
Hindu Koh, this principle is pretty clearly maintained;
but from the point in Little Thibet, where this last-men¬
tioned system forks out into the two great chains of the
Himalaya and the Kuen Lun, which enclose the table-land
of Thibet Proper, a greater degree of interlacement and con¬
fusion prevails, and beyond the termination of these ranges
Assam and on the Chinese frontier, the mountain sj s-
tem of China and south-eastern Asia spreads out like an
immense fan, in some of whose ranges a high degree of
parallelism is preserved among contiguous members,
while in others the branching character prevails quite
as conspicuouslv.
(143.) Mountain Systems of America. —In describing
more particularly the several partial systems of which
these great subdivisions consist, we shall begin with the
more simple—that of the New \V orld. Commencing with
the very extremity of the southern continent, or what may
be considered its natural prolongation, the Terra del Fuego,
we find already a most rugged country, with lofty peaks,
and glaciers descending from them, one of which, “ Mount
Sarmiento,” attains the elevation of 6900 feet. On the
main land, though it can hardly be said that a continuous
mountain chain borders the whole of Patagonia, we find
lofty single peaks, such as “Mount Stokes” (6400 feet),
a country generally mountainous, and an excessively lough
and broken coast, full of fiords like those of Norway, of
immense depth, fed by glaciers descending from the high
lands above—the perpetual snow-line here descending as
low as 3000 feet above the sea-level. This, however,
does not prevent a great luxuriance of vegetation below
that limit, the extreme humidity of the climate favour¬
ing the growth of forest trees, which clothe the moun-
tafns from the coast upwards. What may properly be
called the Cordilleras, commence in latitude 47^°, about
the Gulf of Penas, and extend thence close to the coast
line to Mount Llebecan (latitude 410-45°), including aoI-
canic peaks such as Yanteles (8030 feet), Corcobado (7510),
and Minchinmadava (8000), already entitled to be re¬
garded as lofty mountains. At this point the broken
coast line and its complicated insular barrier ceases with
the Isle of Chiloe, or rather the same system of formation
is continued on the main land by the addition of a boi-
dering belt between the Andes and the sea, terminated in
a granitic rocky barrier skirting the Chilian coast. Here
the Patagonian Andes terminate, and the Chilian com¬
mence ; and from this point we find, interposed between
the cordillera and the sea, a slope of land continued up
to the equator, nowhere exceeding 120 geographical miles
in breadth from the- coast to the actual ridge. Hence,
too, the chain itself gains a great accession of height.
Already at Valparaiso occurs the gigantic porphyritic
peak of Aconcagua, the loftiest of the whole chain (23,910
feet); but the chain continues single (with a slight appear¬
ance of lateral parallels in the Sierra de \ elasco, and the
Pamatina ridge, at 75 and 100 geographical miles respec¬
tively distant eastward from the main chain) till it reaches
the 20th parallel of S. lat., where the Chilian Andes ter¬
minate, and the Bolivian commence. Along their whole
extent the former range attain and surpass the snow-line,
which rises rather suddenly from 8000 feet at Valdivia, in
lat. 409 S. to 12,780 at Valparaiso (33Q N.), between
which, about the parallel of Concepcion (36° 40' S.), a
corresponding change of climate from extreme moisture
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical to excessive dryness (a consequence of the change of pre-
Geography. va]enj. win(3s)j takes place, and furnishes a satisfactory
explanation of the phenomenon.
(144.) About the 20th parallel, near a point marked
by the lofty volcanoes of Gualatieri (21,960 feet), and
Sahama (22,350), the chain which had so far followed
a precise meridional direction, deflects to the N/W.,
still accompanying the coast line; but it is now flanked
eastward by a great parallel chain, the Cordillera Eeal,
commencing at Potosi, the highest city in the world (being
13,350 feet above the sea), and near wdiich, at a level of
16,150 feet, is one of the richest silver mines known.
\ These chains include between them the Plateau of Bolivia,
a great table-land upwards of 130,000 square miles in
extent, and 12,700 feet above the sea level, forming the
internal drainage-basin of the Desaguadero, in which is
placed the lake of Titicaca, already mentioned, and which
is part and parcel of a considerably more extensive “ con¬
tinental basin,” of which more hereafter. The chain of
the Cordillera Keal is also extremely lofty, and full of high
peaks and ridges, among which the non-volcanic moun¬
tain of Illimani attains an elevation of 21,150, and that of
Sorate 21,290 feet. It pursues its parallelism with the
main chain (in which alone the great volcanoes and dome¬
like trachytic igneous mountain-masses occur, and in
which are the active volcanoes of Arequipas (20,320 feet),
Uvinas (16,000) Yiejo (20,500), and Chipicani (19,745),
up to the knot of Pasco, a great ganglion, as it were, of
the system, in lat. 10° 42' S., and excessively rich in sil¬
ver mines, from which point springs a third chain, pre¬
serving, like the other two, a strict parallelism with the
coast line, from which it is distant 450 geographical
miles, and running N.W. for about the same distance, the
three being known as the eastern, central, and western
Cordilleras of Peru.
(145.) From the termination of this triple arrangement
to the equator, and somewhat beyond, the Cordillera is
continued in a double line, or rather in a series of pairs
of parallel ridges about thirty miles asunder, separated by
cross ridges, and placed exactly conterminous ; in the
northern part of which are situated the great volcanoes of
Chimborazo (21,424 feet), Cotopaxi (18,875), Antisana
(19,137), Pichincha (15,924), and Tunguragua (16,424),
a group unequalled in the world. These enclose the ele¬
vated valley of Quito, about 200 miles in length, with a
mean elevation of 10,000 feet. The city itself is 9543
feet above the sea, and contains, or once did contain,
70,000 inhabitants.
(146.) The equator passes across the Nevada of Coy-
ambe, a beautiful snow-clad cone, not volcanic (at least
not active), of 19,535 feet in height, and immediately
north of it> the phenomenon of a triple, and nearly parallel
mountain-chain is resumed—those of the eastern, central,
and western Cordilleras of Peru. In the central Cordillera
occur the great volcanoes of Purace (17,034 feet), and
Tolima (18,020).
(147.) It deserves especial remark, that the most west¬
erly of these chains does not continue as a lofty moun¬
tain-range into the isthmus of Panama, but dies out in a
succession of low, nearly parallel ridges; while the eastern,
deserting its parallelism, curves round, with a circular
sweep, to the eastward, and forms the littoral chain of Ve¬
nezuela, terminating in the peninsula of Paria, or pro¬
longed into the Isle of Trinidad. The Sierra Nevada of
Santa Marta, near Cape St Juan, on the Caribbean Sea,
19,000 feet in altitude, may be considered as an outlying
prolongation of the middie chain. Whatever the forces
which have elevated this vast mountain system, and how¬
ever they may stand in connection with those which, pro¬
bably at a much earlier period, have raised the chains
VOL. XVII.
593
north of the isthmus, there is evidently a breach of conti- Physical
nuity, or at least a diversion of activity at this point. Geography.
(148.) The Andes, from their very commencement in
Patagonia, slope rapidly, but not precipitously, to the
eastward by a series of terraces consisting of secondary
strata, which run out to no very great distance from the
chains themselves, and terminate in the vast expanse of
low country occupied by the tertiary formations, and by
the alluvia marking the lower courses of the great South
American rivers. The closed area or continental basin
spoken of in art. 144, extends on the east side of the
loftiest chain, from lat. 14° 10' to 30° 40' S., or about
1600 geographical miles in length, with an average breadth
of 120 geographical miles, comprising an area of nearly
200,000 square geographical miles, and contains, besides
the lake of Titicaca, sevei-al other smaller lakes, which
are salt. This basin may be considered as occupying two
distinct levels; the surface of Titicaca being more than
12,000 feet above the sea, while the southern portion of
the basin (if indeed it be really such, which seems a little
doubtful) has a much lower altitude.
(149.) The mean elevation of the South American
Andes, according to Humboldt, is 11,830 feet, and the
extent of surface covered by their bases is 531,000 square
geographical miles. They present the extraordinary
phenomenon of great communities of men, subsisting in
wealth and comfort, at an elevation at which the inhabi¬
tant of the plains finds respiration difficult. Besides
Quito, the city of Cuzco, on the outer and northern edge of
the Bolivian plateau, at an elevation of 11,384 feet, and
once the capital of the Incas, and the seat of an early and
high degree of civilization, still contains 50,000 inhabi¬
tants ; and the silver mines of Pasco, at an elevation little
inferior to those of Potosi, attract into their neighbour¬
hood a numerous and active population.
(150.) The narrow isthmus wdiich connects the two
continents, under the general appellation of Central Ame¬
rica, preserves the character of precipitous descent to the
sea on its west side, and is studded along the coast of the
Pacific with volcanic mountains broken into groups, and
intermixed with masses of disconnected table-land. The
principal of these groups are those of Costa Rica, known
as the groups of Uragua and Salamanca, succeeded by
a great chain of volcanoes along the west coast of Honduras,
Nicaragua, and Guatimala, among which are those of
Agua, 15,000 feet in height, and Cosiguina, which, though
less lofty, became in 1835 the focus of a frightful eruption,
the ashes of which were carried even to Jamaica.
(151.) Entering upon the North American expansion
of the isthmus, we find in Mexico a singular volcanic
group extending almost precisely east and west, and from
sea to sea, consisting of very elevated mountains, viz.—
Colima (12,000 feet), Toluca (15,542), Popocatepetl
(17,717), Iztacihuatl (15,705), Orizaba (17,374), and
Tuxtla. With these the active volcanic series seems
to terminate, and what may be called the regular moun¬
tain system of North America to commence. Indeed
this line of volcanoes seems scarcely to belong to the coast
chain, but to be of later origin, cutting, as it does, across
its direction almost at a right angle, and finding its pro¬
longation in the Antilles.
(152.) To understand the mountain system of North-
Western America, wre must conceive two coast lines simi¬
lar to that which bounds the southern continent—an
eastern and a western, the latter of posterior elevation to
the former, and having between them the broad tertiary
area noticed in art. 121. Hie former of these is
marked out by a system of mountain chains, running
generally northward, but converging towards a central
knot or ganglion, about the 40th parallel of latitude, near
594 PHYSICAL G
Physical the sources of the Arkansas river, and at a point at present
Geography. 0f some political interest, as affording almost the only
    " practicable access from the east by rugged and difficult
passes to the Mormonite settlement of Utah. Ihese
branches, of which the principal are the Cordillera of
Cohahuela and San Luis de Potosi on the one side, and
the Sierra Madre prolonged into the Sierra de S. Juan
and the Sierra Yerde on the other, enclose and sustain
between them the high table-land of Mexico, from 6000
to 8000 feet above the sea (Mexico itself is 7482 feet), and
on the eastern side slope down to the flat country by two
great terraces of 4000 and 2500 feet average respective
elevation, occupying the eastern portions of Texas and
Kansas, a country of exceedingly sterile and uninviting
character. From this knot or ganglion, marked by high
elevations, lately become known as Long’s Peak and
Pike’s Peak, and by the broken ranges of the Bow Medi¬
cine mountains, between and across which the direct rail¬
way route to California from the east may one day come
to be traced, the main chain of the Kocky or Chippewyan
Mountains is continued in a N. W. direction in a
straight and almost unbroken course to the mouth of the
Mackenzie River in the Arctic Ocean. It is generally
lofty, and contains several very high peaks, such as
Fremont’s peak (13,568 feet), “Mount Hooker (15,^00),
and “Mount Brown” (15,990) respectively, in altitude.
Above the 45th parallel, however, the chain forks out and
sends out a lower branch into the Columbian territory,
which runs generally parallel to the main chain as far as
60° N., and between the 50th and 60th degrees is again
accompanied by another parallel chain above 300 miles in
length, which divides the interval between the coast line
and the former chain almost equally. The distance
between the eastern range of this great barrier of moun¬
tains and the Pacific varies from 300 geographical miles
at its two extremities to 800, where it recedes farthest
inland in 40° N., and encloses the basin of Utah.
(153.) The western coast-range commences northward
with Mount St Elias (17,850 feet) in 60° N. lat., and
Mount Fairweather (Cerra di Buon Tempo) (14,782), and
follows the coast-line with as much fidelity as the southern
Andes, never receding from it more than 150 geographical
miles; and is continued under the name of the Cascade
Mountains, and the Sierra Nevada, down to and along
the whole Californian peninsula. In latitude 35° N.,
nearly opposite Point Concepcion, it sends off a branch
northwards, running between the main chain and the
coast mountains, about 450 miles in length, repeating
strikingly the phenomenon of parallelism of which the
Andes have afforded so many instances.
(154.) Between these two barriers lies a plateau of
elevated land, comprising two remarkable districts—the
Oregon territory, in which a vast development of volcanic
activity appears, at some remote period, to have subsisted,
and the great saline plateau, or inland basin of Utah,
whose elevation is from 4000 to 5000 feet, and the waters
of which, having no outlet, form a series of salt lakes, one
of which, lying close to the settlement so called, is of con¬
siderable extent, and almost saturated with salt.
(155.) Neither the northern coasts of America nor the
interior of the continent carry those outward and visible
signs of violent and paroxysmal upheaval the western
mountains suggest; nor do any extensive mountain ranges
exist in the northern, except in the immediate vicinity of
the eastern sea-bord, along the coasts of the United States.
Here we find the St Lawrence delivered into the Atlantic
along a wide valley skirted on the north by the Wat-
shisch Mountains, a range of no great elevation, extending
from the north-east extremity of Labrador to the Mis-
tassin Lake, and terracing down by two subordinate
eogbaphy.
parallel ranges to the valley, and on the south by the Physical
Notre Dame, the Green, the White, and the Adironbeck Geography.
Mountains—a series of low interrupted parallel ranges of "
hills, among which are some which rise to the dignity of
mountains, as Mount Washington (6428 feet), and Mount
Katahdin (5360 feet) in Maine, which stands out apart
from the general range. These hills are separated from
the more important system of the Appalachian and Alle¬
ghany Mountains by the Valley of the Hudson River, which
cuts across them, and which, doubtless, at some earlier
period, extended up to the Gulf of St Lawrence, cutting
off New England, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia from
the main-land.
(156.) On the southern side of the Hudson commence
the mountain ranges of the Alleghanies, or the Appala¬
chian system, a series of several closely parallel chains,
much cut across by transverse valleys, affording outlets to
numerous rivers, running through the states of Pennsyl¬
vania and Virginia, and dividing the Carolinas from Ken¬
tucky, running south as far as the 33d parallel of latitude,
and forming a belt of about 120 geographical miles in
breadth, and nearly 800 in length. The slope of these hills
to the sea-bord comprise some of the finest districts, and
the most fertile and diversified country in the United States.
The ranges themselves have a mean elevation of 2556 feet,
and in few places exceed 3000 or 4000 in height, and appear
to have no central dominant axis of elevation, but to form
an excellent exemplification of Mr Hopkins’ views of the
action of upheaving force, extending over an area much
longer than its breadth, which he has shewn to have a
tendency to px*oduce parallel longitudinal fissures, cut across
by others at right angles to them.
(157.) The Alleghany mountain system belongs chiefly
to the older and newer Paheozoic, the Silurian, and
Devonian groups of rocks, being flanked on both sides
along its whole length by bands of the carboniferous
series, which oil the west expand into a vast territory
full of coal measures, the source of immense present and
future national prosperity. Further eastward, below the
carboniferous limestone, crop out belts of metamorphic
and crystalline formation, preserving a parallelism with
the crests of the mountain ridge on the one hand, and
with the general direction of the coast on the other.
(158.) The mountain systems of the east side of South
America differ from those of the northern continent, in
consisting almost entirely of metamorphic and crystalline
rocks; and from that of the western coast in exhibiting
little of that systematic tendency to parallel arrangement
(except along the coast of Brazil) which is so conspicuous
a feature of the latter. They form two distinct systems,
that of Parime and that of Brazil.
(159.) The mountain system of Parime occupies an
area from a little north of the equator to about 8-j° N.
latitude, and from the 50th to the 60th meridian of west
longitude, comprising the whole district of Guiana be¬
tween the mouths of the Amazon and Orinoco, and
forming the watershed between the lower portions of
the basins of other great rivers. It consists of a plateau
of from 1500 to 2000 feet in height, of granite and crys¬
talline rocks, and rises to a series of mountain chains
variously directed; those known as the Sierras of Ima-
raca, Pacaraimo, and the long southern boundary of the
district (Sierra de Acaray, Triputa, or Tamucarague),
running nearly east and west, while the more westerly
members of the group (the Parime and Maigualida
Sierras) affect a meridional direction. The whole system
rises like an island (as no doubt at some earlier epoch it
was) from a vast tertiary district, which completely sur¬
rounds it, being, however, very narrow on the coast side,
but developed inland over an immense tract. There are
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 595
Physical only two mountains in the whole formation which rise to or Cairn lual in Kerry, Ireland (3410). Only along the Physical
Geography. any great elevation—that of Duida (7149 feet) at the western coast-line in England and Wales is there any
western extremity, and Roraima (7450), near the centre considerable tract attaining 1000 feet above the sea level,
of the district. an(i scarcely any point of the eastern or midland counties
(160.) The Brazilian mountain system occupies a coast reaches that elevation. The north-western part of Scot¬
line of nearly 27^ of latitude, from the most easterly land beyond Loch Ness is, generally speaking, above that
projection of the continent nearly to the mouth of the level; and the chain of the Grampians, which stretches
La Plata, and extends its ramifications 1800 geographical across the country from N.E. to S.W., has numeious
miles inland, separating the waters of the Amazon River ridges from 2000 to 3500 feet in height. In Ireland
from those of the La Plata. The coast line for nearly there are but few points which exceed 1000 feet, and
the whole extent of this system is granitic, and a moun- those, as in England, chiefly along the west coast,
tain barrier (under the names of the Sierras of Espin- (164.) Lhe general direction of the Scotch mountains
hago, Pedade, Frios, Gran Mogol, Almas, Chapada, and (which consist chiefly of crystalline locks, with here and
Muribeca), consisting principally of crystalline rock other there, in the Grampians, true granite), as well as of the
than granitic, upheaved by the protrusion of the latter, deep cleft of Loch Ness, which cuts across the countiy
runs from Rio Janeiro in a north-east direction, at an from sea to sea, and the exceedingly rectilineal charactei
interval of about 200 geographical miles from the coast, of this, and of the strike of the formations of the whole
separating the coast rivers from the basin of the San Fran- of Scotland, and especially of a great belt of trappean and
cisco River, which runs parallel to them till it escapes basaltic formation which crosses it, from the Iiiths of
through a break between the Sierras Muribeca and Caryris, Forth and lay across the channel to Antiim in Ireland
between which latter and the Atlantic run two other (where it is developed in the magnificent colonnades of
chains, preserving an exact parallelism with it. The the Giant’s Causeway), is not among its least remarkable
line of mountains is continued, as the Sierra Vermelha, features. The rugged nature of the country affords, both
• diverging somewhat from the sea line, to the north-east in the west of Scotland and the north-western counties of
coast near the mouth of the Paranahyba River. The England, lakes and other scenery of exquisite beauty,
mountains of this principal barrier line are pretty lofty, The same character of a general north-eastern strike of
attaining in the Peaks of Itambe 5960 feet (lat. 18° 40' S.) the geological formations, which is supplanted in the
and Itacolumi (5750 feet) (lat. 20° 25' S.) (which gives northern counties of England and in Wales by a meri-
its name to the mineral Itacolumite) and Itabira (5250 dional direction of the leading eminences, re-appears over
feet). The mountains of the Coi’covado and the Organos, its southern and eastern portions, as well as in the great
near Rio Janeiro, are remarkable for their picturesque contraction of breadth in the island between the estuaries
beauty and the rich development of vegetable forms which of the Severn and the Welland.
adorn them, and indeed the whole of this region, and (165.) The Scandinavian mountain system has the same
clothe their ridges to the summit. general north-eastern direction. It consists mainly in a
(161.) The interior of this mountain district constitutes series of lofty and broad plateaus, intersected by deep
a plateau of vast extent, whose mean elevation is about valleys cutting them down to the sea, where they form
3200 feet. It is intersected with chains running in very a coast-line of excessivelyrugged character (art. 103). The
various directions. The Cordillera Grande runs for 400 chain extends along the whole western coast of Norway,
geographical miles from north to south, precisely along from end to end, upwards of a thousand miles, under the
the 50th meridian, and that of the Montes Pyrenees for names of Hard-angar, of the Langefield, the Dovrefield,
150 exactly east and west. The diamond mines of Brazil or Loffrines, and the Kiolen Mountains ; the highest
are situated on the slopes of the Espinhago range, and the summits of which are the Schneehiitten (7520 feet), in
ruby, topaz, and emerald are also the produce of the lat. 62° IS., and the Sulitelma (6200), in lat. 67 20 N.
Brazilian mountains. Gold is washed down from the The greatest part of them rise above the limit of perpetual
mountain by almost all the Brazilian rivers, but it is snow. A considerable portion of this range consists of
chiefly in the province of Minas Geraes that the richest silurian rocks.
gold deposits and the finest precious stones are found. (166.) Ihe Iberian Mountain System consists of a great
(162.) European Mountains.—The mountains of Europe rectilinear barrier (the Pyrenees), of the Permian, Car-
have been divided into six principal groups, or systems— boniferous, and Devonian strata, with some granitic
the British, the Iberian or Spanish, the Alpine, the Scan- masses (especially towards the eastern part of the chain),
dinavian, and the Sarmatian. The mean height of the extending from the farthest western point of the peninsula
surface of Europe, as we have seen, is 1342 feet, so that (Cape Finisterre) to Cape Creux, the faithest east. It is
an elevation of the sea level of 1000 feet would sub- very lofty—no less than 7970 feet in mean elevation, and
merge by far the larger portion of it. In fact, such an has several peaks exceeding 10,000 feet in height, viz., the
elevation would insulate Scandinavia, and cover at least Malahite or Nethou (11,168 feet), Mont 1 erdu (10,994),
two-thirds of France, the whole of Belgium, Holland, the Cylinder of Malore (10,899), the Maladetta (10,886),
Denmark, North Germany, Prussia, and Poland, together and the Vignemale (10,820). Spain itself is generally
with the whole of Russia, up to the Ural Mountains and high land, having a central plateau of nearly 2000 feet
down to the Black Sea, with exception of that small and in elevation. Besides the Pyrenees, it has several other
insignificant group of low hills which, under the name of mountain chains the granitic chain of the Sieira de
the Valdai, constitute the “ Sarmatian System,” and which Guadarama (prolonged into I ortugal by the Sierra Gredos,
suffice to afford a watershed line to the basins of the which rises to a height of 10,552 feet, and the mountains
Dwina and Neva, which deliver their waters into the of Gata, to the S. d Estrella) the loledo chain, which
White Sea and the Gulf of Finland, and to determine the culminates at Guadaloupe, and the Sierra Nevada, which
south-west course of those of the Dnieper and Volga. skirts the south coast, and rises, in the peak of Mulhagen,
(163.) The British system is no way remarkable for south-east of Granada, to the height of 11,664 feet,
height, the highest summits in its several compartments (167.) The mountain system of North Africa belongs,
being Ben Nevis in Inverness-shire, Scotland (4368 obviously, to judge from its general parallel direction and
feet), and Ben Wyvis in Ross-shire, Cross Fell in Cum- elevation, to the Spanish group of the European forma-
berland (3383), Snowdon in Wales (3557), and Curran, tion. It consists of three subdivisions, the most extensive
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
596
Physical and loftiest of which is the most southern, and runs gene-
Geography. rany parallel to the Mediterranean coast, at a distance ox
' from 100 to 180 geographical miles, following the cuiva-
ture of the Atlantic sea-bord outside the Straits ol (j
raltar, through Morocco, where it rises to the height ot
1S 000 feet, or above the line of perpetual snow,
chatn continues eastward to the Gulf of Cubes at the
confines of Tripoli and Tunis and would to be a
continuation of the Apennines through Sicily. lhe
ran^e, or rather succession of terraced heights and table¬
lands, interspersed with mountains rising from tne lesser
or coast range to the interior nnd higher, comprises the
best and most habitable part of North Africa, including
Algeria, while the lesser, commencing opposite txibialtai
as an offset from the great chain, and rising there to a
very considerable altitude, runs first inland, then returns
to the coast about Oran, and continues along it as tar as
(168 ) The Alpine is the highest, most extensive, and
most complex of the mountain systems of Europe. It
connects itself with the Pyrenees, through the mountain
districts of France west of the Rhone,—the Cevennes, the
Puy, and the VosgesMountains, a district generally elevated
above 2000 feet, but rising to peaks of 6220 feet (1 uy de
Sancy), 6093 (Plomb du Cantal), and 4806 in the 1 uy de
Dome, the mountain on which the decrease of barometric
pressure was first observed by Pascal in the middle of the
seventeenth century. This district, which consists in lai ge
measure of granite and crystalline rocks, is full of vestiges
of most intense volcanic action, and presents, in the chain
of the Puys near Clermont, in the Mont D or and in
Auvergne and the Yivarais, multitudes of cones of scoriae
and ashes apparently quite fresh, together with trachytic
domes (Puy de Dome, Sarcouy, &c.), basaltic colonnades
and plateaus of immense extent which occur in a country
of most picturesque beauty, affording the most, acces¬
sible and agreeable field for the study of volcanic phe¬
nomena which Europe affords. East of the Rhone
the mountains become more elevated, and through the
Dauphine and Grenoble mountains, or, as they have been
called, the Cottian Alps, connect themselves with the
great system of the Pennine Alps, of which there are two
principal distinct chains separated by the upper Rhone.
The southern and loftier, or the Sardinian Alps, in which
are Mont Blanc (15,744 feet), Monte Rosa (15,174),
and Mont Cervin (14,836), and the northern or Bernese
chain, the highest points of which are the Finsteraarhorn
(14,026), and the Jungfrau (13,716). These unite in a
central knot at St Gothard, from which, spreading east¬
ward, extends a wilderness of lofty peaks and ridges
through the Grisons and Tyrol to the Glockner on the
eastern extremity of that province, from which point, as
from another centre or ganglion, branches ramify in
various directions, the chain of the Buch Alps extending
north-eastward towards Vienna, and other chains pro¬
ceeding east and south-east, and accompanying the coast
line of the Adriatic, under the names of the Julian, Car-
nic, and Dinaric Alps, a range whose mean altitude may
be reckoned at above 5000 feet, and which rises in Mount
Kom to 9000, from which part off innumerable ramifica¬
tions, covering the whole region south of the Danube to
the utmost confines of Europe.
(169.) The system of the Eastern Alps (the Slavo-Hel-
lenic system), however, mainly diverges from the Sharah
Tagh (10,000 feet) in two directions. The Pindus chain
running southward, traverses Macedonia, Albania, Thes¬
saly, and Greece, down to the extremity of the Morea,
and comprises in its course the most celebrated summits
in classic lore, Olympus in Thessaly (9749 feet), and Par¬
nassus (8068). The other, or Balkan chain, runs east-
ward along the forty-third parallel of latitude to the Black
Sea, which it encounters near the Gulf of Bourgas and
the ’ promontory of Emineh Burun, consisting, in its
highest range, of the rugged and almost impassable chain
of°the ancient Hmmus (8874), pai’allel to which, lying
directly east and west in the latitude of Constantinople,
is the ancient Rhodope (8313). The whole is rugged in
the extremest degree, and the broken outline of Greece,
full of deep, bays and harbours, and admirably adapted for
a maritime centre, as well as the multitude of islands in
the Archipelago, with the sheltered coasts of Thessaly on
one side, and of Asia Minor on the other, testify to the
continuation of the mountain system in the same general
direction beneath the sea level.
(170.) The great southern chain of the Pennine Alps de¬
scends with precipitous rapidity on the plains of Piedmont
and Lombardy, around which the Cottian range, prolonged
into the chain of Maritime Alps, skirting the . Gulf of
Lyons, makes a vast circular sweep, and, crossing over
Italy nearly to its eastern coast, embraces in its circuit
the basin of the Po, and runs down the whole length, of
the peninsula, as the chain of the Apennines, attaining
at one point, Monte Corno, near Aquila, an altitude of
10,114 feet. Nor does it terminate with the Italian pen¬
insula, but may be considered as prolonged into Sicily,
running across the north of the island from east to west,
and having for outliers the active volcanoes of Vesuvius,
the Lipari Isles, and Etna. The ridge of the Apennines
is of secondary limestone, and flanked on both sides, and
largely interspersed, with tertiary strata, and along the
west coast of Italy with volcanic rocks, both recent and
ancient.
(171.) Of the Alps Proper, one of the most striking
characters in contrast with other great chains, is the absence
of elevated plateaus. Where the principal chains meet,
instead of enclosing, as in similar circumstances in
America and Central Asia, lofty districts, like Bolivia,
Utah, and Thibet, we find quite the reverse—deep open
valleys, giving to the ■whole system a decided out-bianch-
ing character. In their eastern ramifications this feature
is modified, and among the Balkan group we find elevated
districts of considerable extent, from which the higher
summits rise as from a vantage ground.
(172.) The base of the higher Alps is calculated by
Humboldt to cover an area of 24,300 square geographical
miles. The principal chain, that of the Sardinian Alps,
consists almost entirely of gneiss, mica slate, serpentine,
with here and there granite, and other rocks more oi less
allied to true granite; that of the Bernese Alps is for the
most part of secondary limestones, oolites, &c., much dis¬
turbed and altered by heat. North of the higher ranges
occur a broad zone of tertiary formation, and tow aids
France the Jura limestone is so developed as. to have
received its name from the mountains in which it .occuis.
The Alps are considered by geologists to have gained an
accession of nearly 4000 feet in height since the tertiary
period.
(173.) The great plains of the north-east of Europe
are separated in a very decided manner from the northern
slope of the Alpine region, by the chains of the Hercynian
and Carpathian Mountains, which form an oval basin
(that of the upper Danube and the Theiss), including
Bavaria, Austria Proper, Hungary, and Transylvania, and
which connect themselves with the Balkan range by the
North Balkan, a narrow passage only being left open at
Orsova for the Danube. Some of the Carpathian Moun¬
tains are of considerable elevation, as the Lomnitz Point
of Mount Tatra (8524) in the northern, and Pojano Ruska
(9912) in the southern part of their chain. The Transyl¬
vanian system is remarkable for its mineral riches.
P H Y S I C A L G E O G R A P H Y . 597
Physical (174.) The great northern plain of the eastern continent
Geography. unbroken almost to the extremity of Siberia by any
elevation worth mentioning, except the Ural chain, which
mai’ks the division of Europe and Asia, and which runs
down in an exact meridional direction from the 70th
to the 48th degree of north latitude, forming a rectilinear
and nearly unbroken chain of 1300 geographical miles in
length. Indeed, it may be considered as extending nearly
400 miles farther, to the extremity of Nova Zembla,
making a considerable bend in its course at the arctic
circle. It consists, along its western declivity, of the
older palaeozoic rocks, upraised by a line of metamorphic
formation, along the whole length of which occur at
intervals a series of newer igneous rocks, which would
appear to have broken through at the time of upheaval,
while yet forming a coast line, or chain of islands; at the
southern end, for a considerable distance, granitic or other
analogous rocks appear. Scarcely any mountain region is
more rich in mineral productions, gold and platinum being
richly produced in its central portions, and even diamonds
in its southern. No part of this chain is very elevated.
The Konstantinow Kamen (lat. 68° 30') being 5000 feet,
the Koniakofski Kamen (lat. 60°), 5397, and the Iremel
(lat. 54° 20') 5075 feet; nor does it exhibit any of those
rugged and precipitous features which attend mountain
chains in general. It would seem as if the upheaving
force, whose general feebleness is manifested over the
whole of this vast region, had barely been able along this
line to overcome the superposed weight, and break out to
day, but not to shatter rocks or throw up cones.
(175.) The transition from the great mountain masses to
those of Asia, is through the elevated plateaus of Asia Minor
and Armenia, and the mountain chains of the Caucasus
and Elbrouz, beyond which, to the north, the level sinks at
once to that of the lowlands of the great northern area.
Asia Minor presents several considerable mountain chains,
the principal of which are that of the Taurus, which runs
along the southern coast, and rises, in Mount Argeus in Ka-
ramania, to 13,197 feet, and the Anti-Taurus, borderingthe
Euxine, which at one point (Argischtagh) attains 13,000.
Asia Minor, moreover, offers the first striking instance in
our progress eastward, of the general tendency to rise in
elevated plateaus and table-lands, which distinguishes the
medial zone of the great eastern continent. The mean
elevation of the surface of the whole peninsula is not less
than 3280 feet, with a central depression which, though
not sufficient to form a basin (the country being inter¬
sected with many valleys affording an outlet), allows the
collection of numerous lakes, many of which are salt, one
of them at Tutzla of considerable size.
(176.) The plateau of Armenia is still more elevated
(7000 feet). It occupies a belt extending across the neck
of Asia Minor between the Caspian, the Caucasian range,
the Euxine, and the Mediterranean. It has several
very lofty eminences, among others, Ararat, an extinct
volcano, 17,212 feet in height, the summit of which is
always covered with snow. The Caucasian chain itself
runs along the north-eastern coast of the Euxine and the
southern shores of the Caspian. Its highest points are
Mount Elbrouz, a volcano still showing some faint signs of
activity, 18,493 feet, and Mount Kasbeck, 16,523, and the
still, though torpidly, active volcano of Demawend,
14,695, not far from Teheran, the capital of the Persian
empire.
(177.) We are now fairly entered upon that great suc¬
cession of table-lands and elevated plateaus, which give
a peculiar character to the eastern continent, and which,
according to the opinions of the best geologists, existed
as such anteriorly to the protrusion of the great mountain
chains which run across them. The general direction of
this series of elevated districts (which comprehends the Physical
whole of Arabia, Armenia, Persia, Afghanistan, Thibet, Geography,
and Upper Tartary, as far as, and beyond the desert of
Gobi into Mongolia), is from W.S.W. to E.N.E., while
the general direction of the loftier mountain ranges, com¬
mencing with the Pyrenees and ending with the Hima¬
layas, is from W.N.W. to E S.E., forming an angle of from
45° to 50° with-the former—a very significant fact as re¬
gards the geological history of the continent, and one to
which, it appears to us, sufficient attention has not been
paid.
(178.) Arabia consists generally of very elevated land.
Along the eastern and central parts, an elevation of 7000 or
8000 feet has been assigned to it; but this is perhaps exag¬
gerated, no country being so difficult of access, and offering
such obstacles to exact determination. Its general cha¬
racter is that of excessive aridity, and an all but complete
absence of rivers, and, in the interior, of any running
water whatever. Towards the southern coast it becomes
somewhat lower, and a little less inhospitable. The Lous-
kebir and Seger mountains, which skirt the south coast,
range from 3000 to 5000 feet in height, and are rather to
be regarded as the termination of the interior plateau than
as chains per se. At the south-east corner in Yemen, they
retreat a little, and leave some room for cultivation ; and
for the course of one of the only two streams which can
be called a river, in the whole of this vast country, whose
general area is not less than 720,000 square geographical
miles. The east coast, from Aden to Medina, along the Red
Sea, is skirted, at a distance of 100 or 150 miles, by an
almost continuous range of mountains, which extend as
far as Medina, from whence to the Gulf Akabah the
coast-line is low, and admits of the passage of the cara¬
vans to Medinah and Mecca; but the mountainous cha¬
racter recommences at this point with Mount Sinai (7498),
Horeb (8593), and Um Shomah (9300), granitic and slaty
masses, intersected with basaltic dykes, and plunging down
like huge towers and buttressed fortresses on the nai’row
plains or “ wadies,” which form the only habitable por¬
tion of the country. Arabia is crossed from the Red Sea
to the Persian Gulf (from Mecca to Lahsa, celebrated for
the pearl fisheries of Bahrein) by a mountain axis, along
which lies one of the few lines of route by which the desert
can be crossed, and from which a small river (the only
other Arabia can boast) descends to the Gulf of Lahsa.
The plateau of Arabia may be regarded as continued
across the Red Sea (which runs up it as a deep but narrow
rectilinear cleft about 150 miles in breadth, and 1300 in
length, from Aden to Suez), into Africa, to form the lofty
table-land of Abyssinia and Upper Ethiopia, where
M. d’Abbadie has ascertained the existence of mountains
14,000 to 16,000 feet in height.
(179.) The plateau of Iran, which comprises about
350,000 square geographical miles, is also very elevated,
though less so than Arabia. Its mean height may be
stated at about 3000 feet, and, like Arabia, its interior is
almost entirely destitute of rivers, and parched and deso¬
late to an extreme degree. The line of the Zagros moun¬
tains, which forms the watershed of the Euphrates on
its east bank, continues along the Persian Gulf into
Beluchistan, and nearly to the Indus. It consists of a
series of bordering ridges running parallel to, and sepa¬
rating the narrow sea-bord of that gulf from an immense
inland or closed basin, to be more particularly described
hereafter, and of whose entire extent the whole of this
region forms but a very small fraction. On its northern
limit, the Persian plateau runs up to the range of moun¬
tains bordering the South Caspian, which may be con¬
sidered as prolonging the Caucasian range through Maz-
anderan and Khorasan to the lofty chain of the Hindu
PHYSICAL geography.
0y& , , 1- -t tn Tartary; and to the south, by three gradations of inferior Physical
Physical Kho, or Koosh ; being, however, rather a mu mountain ranges, running parallel to, and serving as ter- Geography.
Geography. the extension of the table-land in that directio , raced bases to the great central masses. The first descent
~ '' ' independent mountain chain. Its junction wit ig exceedingly abrupt, so much so, that in Bhotan, the
more lofty and continuous chain of the frorn change of level is upwards of 10,000 feet in ten miles,
Herat, which stands as it were in the Hateoi rn > bein ° jn fact, in many places almost a mural precipice,
whence to Kuttore, at the eastern corner ot ^Little xn , The°substratum of the Thibetian plateau consists of
the incipient chain of the Kuen Bun to tne ^ secondary formations, but much of the surface is com-
which the mountains in question may be considerea a    , . , --- --
. . .1 ,  • nrmnATlO.ftS 01 tilO
wincn tne mouimuns m ^ ^
prolon(ration), and the terminal outlying emi"enc®® ..
lindu Kho on the South, run parallel for nearly 500 m.les
The entrance to India from Herat, however, lies to the
south of both these ranges, through Upper Afghamsta by
the pass of Cabul, Immediately adjacent to the lofty peak
(20,232 feet) of the Hindu Kho, the mountain which
gives its name to the whole chain, and between this and
the Sufieh Koh, the road lies along the Khyber Pass (ot
disastrous memory) to Peshawur, oa the Upper Indus.
(180.) At Kuttore, about lat. 36° 40' N., long. /2 40
E., the chain of the Kuen Lun, considered as prolonged
westward in that of the Hindu Kho, and the Himalaya
ran<re, considered as prolonged in the arc of a Aast circle
north-westward into the Bolor Mountains, cross each
other; and from hence up to the Lakes Rewan, or R akas,
and Manasarowar, at the eastern extremity of ihibet
Proper, in which the Sutlej and the Ganges have their
highest recognized sources, these two great chains inter-
lace and ramify in a vast ganglion of mountain masses of but the older strata,
the first magnitude. In the eastern corner of this knot of a considerable
we find the elevated valley of Cashmir, an almost closed
basin of an oval form, surrounded on all sides by the
loftiest mountains, and 5800 feet above the sea, and in
the interval the chain of the Himalaya rises to the altitude
of 25,669 feet in the peak of Jumnotri, and 25,749 in
that of Nanda-devi, the mean altitude being from 18,000
to 20,000 feet. These peaks, as is the case with most of the
loftiest summits of the Himalaya, stand out at some distance
southward from the main ridge, with which they are con¬
nected by long spurs. Pursuing thence the line of this chain
along the province of Nepaul, where it skirts the distiicts
of Kemaon, Sikkim, and Bhotan up to Assam(a total length
from Kuttore of not less than 1300 geographical miles),
it comprises within its range a most astonishing series of
lofty and snow-clad pinnacles. At least 40 peaks exceed¬
ing Chimborazo in altitude are enumerated in its course ;
among which we may name Dwalagiri (27,600 feet), long
supposed the highest mountain in the world, which^stands
out from the general chain where the valley of the Gunduc
River intersects it about the 83d meridian, but whose
supremacy has been supplanted by two other summits at
least, viz., Kinchinjunga (88° 30' E.), which overhangs
the Lacheh pass into Thibet (28,178 feet), and Gahuri
posed of quite modern detritus, in which are found the
fossil remains of elephants, rhinoceroses, and other animals
of the latest tertiary epoch. In the pass of Niti, too, by
which the sacred lakes of Mansowarowar and Rewan are
approached, the occurrence of tertiary beds, already noticed
in art. 120, proves the astonishing fact that this enormous
plateau has actually been raised from the sea-level to its
present elevation subsequently to the deposition of the
newest of the great geological groups of strata. That
it has been thrust up bodily through the general mass of
the continent is equally clear — the detritus lying in
horizontal beds, and the remnant of the formation thus
marvellously preserved existing here alone, where the
lofty ridges surrounding it on all sides, and the extreme
dryness 'of its new climate (a consequence of its great
elevation), have preserved it intact from the causes of
denudation that have acted on all the surrounding masses,
and swept away from the south side of the Himalaya all
With this exception, and with that
v,. a consideraote mass of volcanic formation in the
neighbourhood of the sacred lakes, the highest portions of
the Himalayas consist of granite, gneiss, and metamorphic
rocks, and their southern flanks of fossiliferous limestones,
and other members of the older and newer Palaeozoic
series—among which the Siwalik Hills are remarkable as
having furnished specimens of that extraordinary fossil,
the Sivatherium, or four-horned camel, discovered by
Captain Cautley.
(182.) The chain of the Himalayas terminates rather
abruptly about the 94th meridian east, where it is cut
through by the Brahmaputra River and its tributaries,
unless we prefer to consider it as continued somewhat
further eastward by the parallel chains of the Assam and
Khasyah mountains, on the opposite side of the valley of
the last-named river, at about 120 miles to the south ;
after which a system of mountain-lines, following nearly
a meridional direction, stretches into Arracan and the Ma¬
layan and Cambodian peninsulas, directing their rivers
in nearly parallel courses southwards. The chain itself,
for the last 330 geographical miles of its extent (from
Darjeeling eastward), follows very nearly indeed the 28th
parallel of latitude. It is by no means correct, however,
to consider, as is usually done, the whole chain as, “ gene-
. .1 , __.l 1 ^
the Lacheh nass into Thibet (28,178 teet;, ana uanuu- io consmei, ds is usudi^ ^     °
shanka, Chingopamari, or Deodunga (at present considered rally speaking, parallel to the equator : its whole pie-
as the culminating summit of the world), in long. 86° E. vious course of 960 miles from the knot of Bolor, makinD
(29,002 feet.)
(181.) The Himalaya and Kuen Lun ranges afford a pa¬
rallel on a much vaster scale to the phenomenon exhibited
by the great mountain ranges both of North and South
America. From their point of intersection at Kuttore to
the 93d meridian, they open out into an oval expanse,
about 500 or 550 geographical miles across, which is oc¬
cupied by the plateau of Thibet, the loftiest inhabited
region in the world, having, in its western or lowest por¬
tion—that occupied by the district of Ladak—an average
elevation of 12,000 feet, and in its eastern, or highest
an angle of 30° with that direction, from N.W. to S.E.
(183.) The line of the Assam and Khasya mountains,
if prolonged across the valley of the Ganges, would find
its continuation in the Rhamghur, Khymore, and Vind-
hya mountains, a range which separates Hindostan pro¬
per from the plateau of Malwa and Upper India ; and it
deserves remark that, so prolonged, the line runs a pre¬
cise parallel to the Thian-shan, and nearly so to the eastern
line of the Himalaya and the Tengri-nor range in Thibet.
These mountains form the northern watershed of the
valley of the Nerbudda, as the Satpore range does the
elevation ot 12,UUU teet, ana m its eastern, or uiguest vancj me kjatpuiv.
portion, 17,000. Fifteen thousand feet may be taken as southern, up to the Gulf of Cambay. The peninsula ot
the average height of this wonderful plateau, which serves Hindostan itself is a great triangular table-land, or con-
as a base for a mountain system of its own, and which geries of such, with intermediate low levels, bounded or
extends over 166,000 square geographical miles. On sustained by these mountain-ranges on the northern side,
either side of it the mountains sink rapidly—to the north and by the Eastern and Western Ghauts on the others,
into the inferior but still elevated plateau of Upper Of these, the western forms an almost continuous wall,
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 599
Physical upwards of 600 miles long, rising, towards its southern
Geography, extremity, to an elevation of 4700 feet. They support, as
by a series of steep and mural buttresses, the plateaus of the
Deccan, 1500 or 2000 feet high, and the still loftier table¬
land of Mysore (4000-5000 feet), the granite nucleus of
which has been deluged with an enormous flood of basaltic
lava. In this district are situate the diamond mines of
Golconda, where this precious mineral is found in iron¬
stone, and disintegrated clayey and marly strata. To¬
wards the southern termination of the peninsula, the
mountains become loftier. The Nilgheri hills (enjoying
the most uniform and perfect climate on eai'th) rise to
8760 feet above the sea, and form a group in which, in a
space of 40 miles long by 15 broad, 17 peaks, between
5800 and 8800 feet high, are enomerated. The Eastern
Ghauts are lower and less continuous, find the general
level of the peninsula slopes downwards towards the
eastern coast.
(184.) The Kuen-lun system of mountains is but im¬
perfectly known, being very difficult of access from either
side. It would appear to be prolonged far into China by
the Pe-ling and Tapa-ling ranges; and, so prolonged, would
present the imposing fact of a mountain-range extending
over 64° of longitude from the Caspian nearly to the Pa¬
cific (3350 geographical miles), and nowhere deviating
more than 2° in latitude from the parallel of 35^°. But
in addition to this, it sends out a great branch to the
N.E., which, under the names of Yn Shan and Kingan
Oulah, prolongs the system into and over Mantchouria,
up to the Sea of Japan and the mouth of the Amur.
(185.) The Asiatic chain next in extent and importance,
is that of the Tengri or Thian Shan (Celestial Mountains),
between which and the Kuen-Lun chain intervene the
immense, high, and desolate plateau of Upper Tartary, and
the sandy and rainless deserts of Gobi and Shamo, divided
from each other by a deep depression, occupying together
380,000 geographical square miles in area, at a mean
elevation, the former of 3000, the latter of 4300 feet of
altitude. This chain is in many respects extremely re¬
markable ; and although less elevated, is quite as leading
a feature in a geological and geographical point of view as
the Himalayas. In direction it is almost exactly rectilinear,
and 1150 geographical miles in length, from the 72d east
meridian, where it intersects the Bolor range, running north
and south, to the 97th, and between the parallels of 41''
and 43° N. lat. It may be considered, indeed, as conti¬
nued west of the Bolor by the lower chains of Asferagh
and Ak-tagh to the 66th meridian. And this can hardly
be considered as a mere ideal extension, when taken in con¬
nection with geological relations, for it points directly
towards the southern extremity of the Caspian, and but
for the intervening flat and desert region of Kharesm,
might be looked upon as a branch of the volcanic chain of
Elbrouz. And, in fact, the most marking feature it otters
is the frequency in it of volcanic vents, mostly extinct, but
two of which, Pe-shan and Ho-tscheou (art. 127), may
perhaps be still occasionally active. These mark it out to
have been one of the ancient coast-lines of elevation (an
indication, on the great scale, quite as convincing as the
traces of ancient sea-beaches on a small one) of a former
tropical continent, to which the great plains of North
Asia and North Europe form the same kind of appendage
as the flat eastern portions of America do to the western
coast-chain—a formation, that is to say, out of the detri¬
tus of the elevated region washed outwards into what was
then a great and shallow northern ocean, and which, up
to the present era, is in continual process of extension
—along the coasts of Arctic Asia by the action of river de¬
posit, and along those of north-western Europe by the
more active agency of upheaving forces, the effects of
which are traceable, from century to century, by the bodily Physical
uprise of the coast-line of Scandinavia, and which, in the Geography-
lapse of some twenty or thirty thousand years (a period,
geologically speaking, trifling), will, if continued, oblite¬
rate the Baltic.
(186.) The Altai mountain system covers an area of
about 35° of longitude and 8° of latitude, between the
46th and 54th parallels. They separate the Dzungharian
and Mongolian plateaus (of no great elevation) from the
low country of North-East Siberia. They consist of a
series of ranges (the Ala-Tagh, Tangnou, Kianghan, and
Tschokindo mountains, which last, with the mountain
knot of Kentei Khan, attain an elevation of 7000 or 8000
feet, and inclose the Lake Baikal, and the sources of the
Great Russian rivers, the Lena, the Yenesi, and the Obi.
In the Tangnou are many eminences which rise above the
limit of perpetual snow, and some near the head of the
Oubsa river, above 11,000 feet. These mountains are
extremely rich in mineral productions ; and, to judge from
the beautifully-executed drawings of Mr Atkinson {Wes¬
tern and Oriental Siberia), it would seem scarcely possible
for any region to surpass the whole of this mountain dis¬
trict in picturesque beauty. Around the Baikal Lake
granitic masses abound, interspersed with newer igneous
formations, and Mr Atkinson reports an extinct crater
near the Lake Karanur in the Tangnou, with a cone of
ashes 800 feet in height (lat. 53° N., long. 97° E.) From
the Baikal the mountain system is continued northward
and eastward, through the Daurian mountains, in a
series of branches under various names, as the Yablonoi,
Udskoi, Aldan, and Stanovoi mountain ranges (orKrebets),
up to the furthest extremity of the Sea of Ochotsk, and
terminating in the volcanic system of Kamschatka, where
there are several active vents, an eruption of one of which
(that of Klieutschewsk, lat. 56° 33', long. 160° 20'),
15,955 feet in height, in September 1829, Erman was
fortunate enough to witness. (Reise um die Erde, iii.
chap. 19.)
(187.) African Mountains.—Of the mountain systems of
Africa our knowledge is very imperfect. The Atlas system
and that of Abyssinia have already been noticed. The
southern termination of the continent is formed of tabular
sandstone masses, from 3806 feet (height of the Table
Mountain) to 6000 or 7000, reposing on slate and granite,
dykes of which latter run up into the superposed rock. The
granitic formation, which, in many places, is thus capped
with sandstone, is very extensively developed in South
Africa. In the Kamies Berg it rises to 5100 feet in height,
and the whole plateau of the Bushman flat, with a general
elevation of from 2000 to 3600 feet, is granitic. The sand¬
stone (which incloses rolled pebbles of pure quartz) is dis¬
posed in perfectly horizontal strata, proving the elevation of
the land to have been performed with little of paroxysmal
disturbance. From the rounded forms of the lower
eminences, and the wide, sloping taluses, contrasted
with the mural cliffs above in the loftier ones, from
a definite level uniform over large tracts of country, we
may consider this elevation to have been performed in
two steps, with a long interval of tidal washing in
a shallow sea between them. The Quotlambi or Snowy
Mountains, a range rising to the altitude of 10,000
feet, run along the east coast northwards toward the
Zambesi river, explored by Dr Livingstone, being pro¬
longed in that direction under the names of the Fura
Mountains, while the chains of the Beth and Lupata,
8000 or 10,000 feet in altitude, follow the coast of Zanzibar,
and a loftier and more central chain (the Sierra Maxengo)
runs north from the 16th parallel of south latitude, sup¬
posed to rise to 17,000 feet in its highest part. This divides
into two branches, which enclose between them (as it is
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
600
Physical supposed, from the reports of natives to M. Ehrardt,
Geography. rather than any actual exploration) a great interxoi >
  Nyassi or Uniamesi, equal to the Caspian m size, ofr .
water, beyond which they reunite and form a system ot
equatorial mountains covered with perpetuaUnow, two
which, Kilimanjaro (lat. 3° 20' S., long. 37 }5 E.) a
Kenia or Kignea, very nearly on the equator, ^ loiV
E., have been visited by M. Rehmann and Dr Kraptt.
A large part of South Africa, however, appears, from the
account of Dr Livingstone, to be occupied by a consider¬
ably elevated table-land, and towards this region the moun¬
tains of the coasts would seem to dip inwards both ways.
From the equator, in the direction of Abyssinia, would seem
to extend lofty table-lands of 7000 or 8000 feet m eleva¬
tion. Along the west coast, from the Cape of Good Hope
northwards to Cape Negro, occur no lofty mountain
ranges. Inland, behind Benguela, Congo, and Loango,
the land rises in a terrace, backed by the Sierra Cum-
pleda, a range 12,000 or 15,000 feet in height, and at the
Bio-ht of Biafra the Cameroon mountain attains 13,UUU,
to°the north of which the Kong mountains, and the coast
range of Sierra Leone, are probably to be considered an
extension of the equatorial mountain system, dying out
northward towards the Great Sahara Desert. _
(188.) Australian Mountains.—Of this great contmentat
mass, so little of the interior has been explored that we
hardly know anything of its general mountain system, bo
far as we do know, the highest land lies along the east coast,
forrhing a range from Torres Strait, continued out south-
ward to Van Diemen’s Land, nowhere receding more than
150 miles from the sea. Though not lofty (Mount Koschi-
usko, the highest point, does not exceed 6500 feet), the
material of which it consists (which is chiefly granite and
porphyritic mixed with volcanic rock) gives them a singu¬
larly rugged and inaccessible character, especially coast¬
wise, while towards the interior the slope is gradual. The
heights of several points in this range, determined by Count
Strzelecki, will be found in the Appendix to this article.
(189.) Of Rivers.—All rivers owe their origin, of
course, to atmospheric precipitation, and their magnitudes
are in a compound proportion of the area of their basins
of drainage, and the average annual amount of precipita¬
tion. But the greater or less deviation from uniformity
in the volume of water delivered in different seasons,
which is a feature of the greatest importance in the phy¬
sical character of a river, depends much on the mode in
which the water reaches its channels, which may be in
either of three ways. 1. From immediate surface-drain¬
age, i. e., from rain actually falling, and drained off without
penetrating the soil. 2. From springs, i. e., rain-water
which has penetrated the ground by infiltration, and
collected in subterranean channels, which at length open
out at the surface, or in some cases in the beds of lakes
and rivers ; and 3. From the melting of snow on the
summits of mountains during the summer. Intermediate
between the supplyfrom springs and from surface drainage,
must be classed that portion of the rain which oozes out
at low levels from a saturated soil, in innumerable rills,
not distinctly traceable to any perennial spring delivering
a visible volume of water. The soil, when porous, acts
as a reservoir, and its gradual drainage tends to equalize
the monthly delivery of rivers, and feed them in the dry
season. In climates, then, where there is no broad divi¬
sion of the year into a rainy and a dry season, where the
soil is porous and habitually moist, and where the highest
levels of the watershed are below the line of perpetual
snow, or where such snow-fields are not largely developed,
the rivers are subject to no periodical irregularities, but
only to those which result from unusual, long continued
rains and droughts. Such are most rivers in the .tem¬
perate zones. Where floods occur in such rivers, they ^nysical
depend quite as much on the nature of the soil drained (^^3
as on the weather. The floods of the Rhone, occasionally
so very destructive, arise mainly from the sudden delivery
of heavy rains on the rocky soil and steep valleys of
the Cote d’Or and Jura mountains, which form the basin
of the Saone. Those which, in 1829, desolated Moray¬
shire, in Scotland, originated in no sudden and violent
rains, but in a long-continued drizzling and misty state
of the atmosphere, bringing great tracts of heathery and
mossy ground to the state of a saturated sponge—a state
of thimrs which sometimes results in the breaking loose
of peat mosses, as that of the Solway Moss in 1772.
(190.) On the other hand, when the rains are periodi¬
cal, and the year divided into a dry and a wet season,
which is the case with intertropical regions generally
(Meteorology, art. 112), the rivers rise and fall periodi¬
cally also; the commencement of the rise in the lower
part of the river-course being posterior to that of the
upland rains, owing to the time required for the water to
descend, and the more so the longer the course of the
stream. Thus, the inundation of the Nile, which may
be taken as a normal case of river periodicity, and whose
continuance for successive ages as the source of all the
prosperity of the most anciently civilized region in the
world, has been an unvarying theme of wonder and eulogy,
begins to be felt in Abyssinia and Sennaar in April, while
the rise is not perceptible at Cairo till near the summei
solstice. In the last 1200 miles of its course, the Nile
receives no affluents, and the increasing evaporation con¬
sequent on the progressive rise of annual temperature no
doubt has some share in producing the retardation.
(191.) When the watershed line of a river basin is
sufficiently lofty to receive and retain abundant snow,
this acts as a reservoir, and detains the precipitated
moisture during all the cold season. As the summer
advances, the snow melts; and if the limit of 'perpetual
snow be attained, the supply so husbanded continues
during all the warm season. This may or may not. be
strictly coincident with that from the periodical rains,
thou ah since, generally speaking, in intertropical legions
these are at their maximum when the sun is most nearly
vertical, the two causes for the most part conspire. Gius,
the floods of the Indus depend chiefly on the melting of
the snows of the Himalaya from April to September (but
little rain falling on its lower basin), and are at their
maximum in July. Those of the Ganges and Brahma¬
putra afford an example of a want of exact coincidence
in this respect, all the lower country adjacent to them
being flooded by very heavy rains before the watei fiom
the meltina of the snows (which in the Brahmaputra has a
wide circuit to make before reaching the plains) has time
to arrive.
(192.) When the level of perpetual snow in the water¬
shed is not attained, its complete fusion sets a limit to
that supply; and where little rain falls in summer, we
have mountain torrents which cease, or afford but a scanty
supply during the hottest months, as is the case with
many streams in Greece, Italy, and especially Spain, with
the Orange River in South Africa, &c. _ ?
(193.) Extensive lakes in the upper part of a river s
course greatly tend to equalize its flow by acting as reser¬
voirs. Thus the St Lawrence, which, with a drainage
basin of 297,600 square geographical miles, has 94,000 of
them occupied by lakes, maintains an almost perfectly
equable flow in all seasons. On the contrary, where no
lakes exist, owing to a want of surface inequality, and espe¬
cially where the declivity of the ground over large regions
is very slight, inundations take place on every considerable
increase of the volume of water to be disposed of, owing
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical to the want of proper channels to carry it off. Thus the
Geography. giivaSj or flat wooded plains of the basin of the Amazons
River (an area of more than half a million of square
miles), are for the most part so level and so little inclined,
that the tract of country, 1740 geographical miles in
breadth, from the eastern declivity of the Andes to Grand
Para, has only a slope of 25", and under the parallel of
5°, from Cape St Roque westward to Jaen de Bracamo-
ros, 2640 geographical miles, across the greatest breadth
of South America, a fall of 16" only, or 1 foot in 13,000
(Humboldt, Asie Cent. i. 90). In consequence, in March,
when the river is fullest, a very large proportion of this
vast area is one great standing pool, all the small drainage
channels having become obliterated in the dry season.
(194.) But besides the detention of snow on the water¬
shed lines of a river basin, the general elevation of those
lines, and of the district they inclose, is very influential in
determining the annual average of precipitation itself,
that is to say, the degree in which the rain-bearing winds,
in parsing over the river basin, become drained of their
moisture. Such precipitation (Meteorology, art. 110) is
mainly determined by the vapour-laden air rising to a
higher level in its progress, dilating, and losing tempera¬
ture by so doing, a process which takes place of necessity
whenever the atmosphere of any district is swept bodily
up the country during the moist winds. The height of the
watershed then, and its situation as regards the prevail¬
ing moist winds, are points of primary importance in de¬
termining the volume of water discharged by a river.
This consideration, we may observe, is alone sufficient to
render an account of the great meteorological fact (if such
it really be), that the northern hemisphere receives more
rain than the southern, without having recourse to the
hypothesis of the trade-winds crossing at the equator,
which it has been adduced as a proof.—(Maury, Phys. Geog.
of the Sea, § 174.)
(195.) Courses and Slopes of Rivers.—The courses of
rivers are of necessity regulated entirely by the direction
of the lines of lowest level (art. 137), and are determined
therefore by the same causes which have regulated the
upheaval of mountain chains, and the dislocation of their
strata. Hence it follows that the courses of rivers very
frequently follow the escarpments of cliffs abutting on flat
or gently-sloping country; such cliffs, when not ancient
sea cliffs, being usually indications of lines of fracture in
the act of upheaval, or the outcropping edges of inclined
strata dipping from the escarpment inward; and thus it
often happens that sudden turns in a river course coi're-
spond to changes in the geological features of the country.
When a river, too, which has run for some distance be¬
tween parallel mountain chains, escapes by a cross valley
laterally, such valley is very commonly identifiable, by
the inclination of the strata on either side of it, as a valley
of cross fracture, accompanied with its own peculiar dis¬
locations. And in some cases earthquakes have been
known to open channels by which the courses of rivers
have been diverted. The falls of the Zambesi, as described
by Dr Livingstone (see art. 232), can hardly have origi¬
nated in any other way.
(196.) The velocity of the water in a river is greatest
in mid-stream, at some little distance below the surface ;
the bottom and sides being retarded by the friction of its
bed and banks, and the intermediate water by friction on
that which moves with less velocity than itself. The re¬
tardation is greater the more the river bed winds, the
more it is obstructed by shoals or by irregularities in its
bottom, especially where shallow ; and thus it happens
that in the case of an inundation, such as that of the
Amazon, the slope there indicated, which, if uniform,
and along a regularly-worn channel, would be quite suffi-
VOL. XVII.
601
eient to carry off the water across the country, fails to do Physical
so. The slopes of rivers are for the most part very gentle. Geography.
Thus, Mr Rennie found the fall of the Thames from
Chertsey to Teddington Lock to be 17^ inches per mile,
corresponding to a slope of 57" (one inch per mile corre¬
sponds to S^d"). The Nile, between Assouan and Cairo,
has an average slope of 6£ inches per mile (21"). La
Condamine assigns to the Amazons an average slope of
6^ inches per mile (20",65). The Ganges, according to
Rennie, slopes 4 inches, or 13"*04. The Rhone is the
most rapid river in Europe (perhaps, for so long a course,
in the world). From the Lake of Geneva to Lyons its
slope is 4; 24'', from Lyons to its mouth, 1'46". The
average velocity of the Nile is about 2f miles per hour,
of the Ganges from 3 to 5. The velocity of rivers, how¬
ever, depends much more on their depth, and on the body
of water conveyed, than on their slope (except when much
exceeding these limits), as the velocity generated by the
mere fall of water is almost wholly destroyed at every
instant by friction.
(197.) Springs—Caves—Thermal and Gaseous Springs—
Petroleum and Naphtha Wells — Gaseous Orifices.—The
welling forth of streams from perennial springs is of the
most ordinary occurrence, but it is seldom more than a
rivulet which rises in this manner. There are, however,
some instances of considerable streams so originating.
When this is the case, they issue from caverns, and these
occur usually either in ice or in limestone. In the former
case they are evidently only the drainage of melted snow,
which pours out at the foot of a glacier by the contribution
of subglacial streams converging to the lowest point. Such
is the source of the Arve from the Glacier des Bois, at
Chamouni, and such that of the Ganges, which emerges
as a stream, already 40 yards in breadth, from a huge
cavern in a perpendicular wall of ice near the temple of
Gangutri (lat. 30° 59' N., long. 78° 59' E.) Limestone
formations are very apt to be hollowed into caverns by
the solvent power of carbonic, and perhaps also of other
acids derived from vegetable decomposition, held in solu¬
tion in the percolating water. Such caverns often run to
great distances under ground, and frequently contain run¬
ning streams, even considerable rivers, as is the case in
the caverns of the Peak and Castleton in Derbyshire,
and in that of the Nicojack Cave in Georgia, U. S., on
the Tennessee river, where a waterfall occurs at a distance
of three miles under ground {Ed. Ph. Jour., i. 426).
When such streams emerge to day, we have the pheno¬
menon in question, as in the cavern of the Gaucheros, in
the valley of Caripe, in Cumana, described by Humboldt;
in the celebrated fountain of Vaucluse, which issues as a
considerable stream from a cave at the foot of a perpen¬
dicular limestone cliff; and in a great number of caves in
Carniola and Illyria, where “ almost every lake or river
has a subterraneous source, and often a subterraneous
exit. The Laibach river rises twice from the limestone
rock, and is twice again swallowed up by the earth before
it makes its final appearance”—(Davy). The rivers
Sarapa and Blanco, which flow from the lake of Yojoa in
Honduras, both enter subterranean channels, through
which having passed, in the one case a mile, in the other
a mile and a half under ground, they reappear.
(198.) When water, carried down to a great depth into
the earth, is forced up again by hydrostatic pressure through
other channels, and rises as a spring, it brings up the
temperature of the greatest depth to which it has pene¬
trated, and that sometimes a very high one, even out of
the neighbourhood of any volcanic formation. The warm
springs at Bath have a temperature from 93° to 117°
Fahr., those of Bareges and Bagneres 120° and 123°. In
the county of Bath, in Virginia, a “warm spring” (96°
4 G
602
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical Fahr.) issues in sufficient volume to turn a mill, and a
Geography. « hot sprincr” (108°) rises at a few miles distance, -three
  springs at Yom Mack, near Macao, have temperatures ot
132° 150°, and 186° Fahr. respectively. On the Arkansas
river’are springs of 180° and 190°; at Broussa, in Asia
Minor, the water rises scalding hot; at La Tnnchera, near
Valencia, 1940,5, in a stream 2 feet deep and 18 feet broad;
at Jumnotri, in the Himalaya, nearly boiling; at Urijino,
in Japan, fully boiling; and in the Geyser fountains at
Beikiavik, in Iceland, it is spouted, intermittently, in a
torrent to the height of 150...200 feet, actually boiling
In this case there can be no doubt of its having traversed
a bed of lava not yet cold. A simple and perfect imita¬
tion of the phenomenon is produced by heating the stem
of a tobacco-pipe red hot, and holding it horizontal, the
bowl being filled with cold water. If we consider that
the temperature of the earth increases at an average rate
of about 1° Fahr. for every 90 feet of depth, these facts
will not appear at all surprising. The permanence of
their temperature is a proof of their obtaming it at great
depths. At Mont Dor the very bath exists which was
constructed in the time of Cmsar. At Yakutsk, where
the soil is frozen to a depth of 630 feet, Mr Atkinson
informs us that hot springs exist, and afford in their
neighbourhood opportunities of culture.
(199.) Many springs rise impregnated with carbonic
acid,—those of Carlsbad to the amount of 12 cubic inches
to the pint, and that of Bilin 34 inches. The warm spring
of Wildbad, in Wirtemberg, contains in a pint of water
12 cubic inches of carbonic acid, 7'9 of azote, and 8 of
oxygen (Daubeny, Report, &c., B. A. 1836). Sulphu¬
retted hydrogen also is no uncommon ingredient, as in the
sources of Baden, Harrowgate, and St Amand. Saline
ingredients often enter to a large extent, and springs of
brine occur in many localities, as at Droitwich in Worces-
tershire, at Halle in Saxony, and at Luneburg. _ Other
salts of soda also occur in abundance; thus the springs of
Carlsbad alone have been computed (from analysis) to
give out annually more than 13,000,000 lbs. of carbonate,
and 20,000,000 lbs. of sulphate of that alkali (Gilbert).
Borax is found in the lakes of Thibet, and free boracic
acid in the Lagune of Tuscany. Lime and magnesia
enter as muriate and sulphate. Silica occurs in the boil¬
ing springs of the Geysers.
(200.) Springs of petroleum and naphtha occur in
Zante, in Modena and Parma, in Sicily, and many other
localities. In the Burmese territory, on the Irawadi,
there are upwards of 500 wells yielding annually 400,000
hogsheads of petroleum. In Trinidad there is a lake of
mineral pitch three miles in circumference, partly liquid,
partly solid, and fluid bitumen rises through the sea near
that island.
(201.) Carburetted hydrogen gas is discharged from
the earth is many regions where coal abounds. At Fre-
donia, in New York, U.S., it is conveyed in pipes for
lighting and domestic use. In the province of Tsechuan,
in China, it is also so used. At Thsee-lieou-tsing, a
single source of gas heats 300 kettles. At Pietra Mala,
near Florence, carburetted hydrogen rises through lime¬
stone, and may be set on fire. At Bacou, on the Caspian,
flames (doubtless owing to gas on fire) are often observed
to run over the hills. Something of the same kind is
said to occur in the country between Namur and Liege.
(202.) Springs occasionally intermit and flow again in
regularly recurring periods. That of Paderborn, in West¬
phalia, discharges water twice in the 24 hours—the dis¬
charge being accompanied with a loud rumbling noise.
The Cave of Kilcorney, county Clare, in Ireland, generally
drv, discharges a great flood of water quite suddenly two Physical
or three times in the year {Phil. Trans., 1741). The
lake of Zirknitz, near Trieste, is half the year a hay
field, and the other half full of water discharged from a
limestone cavern.
(203.) Perpetual Snow.—The summits of many moun¬
tains are covered with perpetual snow. The cause is found
in the decrease of temperature in ascending from the sea-
level (Meteorology, art. 22). The rate of decrease being
pretty nearly alike everywhere, the snow-line is sooner
attained in high than in low latitudes. In Europe, in Ice¬
land, and at the North Cape (lat. 71° 10'), the snow-level
is about 2000 feet above the sea. In Norway, between
59° and 65° N., from 4000 to 5000. On the Alps (47°)
and Pyrenees (43°), from 8000 to 9000. In the New
World, along the Andes, commencing with the Straits of
Magellan, we find it in 54° S. so low as 3700 feet, with
glaciers descending to the sea-level; but it rises rapidly
on pi’oceeding northward, attaining 8300 in 40° S.,
12,780 in 33° S., and 13,800 in 27° S. Along the Chi¬
lian Cordillera,from 14i° to 18°S.,the snow-level isl5,900
feet on the eastern, and 18,500 on the western side the
cause of the difference being the greater hygrometric dry¬
ness of the leeward side of the ridge; and in the great
equatorial range of volcanoes (Cotopaxi, &c.), its mean
altitude may be stated at 15,800, while in the northern
prolongation of the chain in Mexico (19° N.), it is 14,760.
In Asia, the snow-levels present a contrast to these quite
as striking as that between the mountain systems of the
two continents, with whose general direction and manner
of grouping they stand connected. Thus proceeding from
high to lowlatitudes, we find (Humboldt, Asie Cent. iii. 360),
Aldan Mountains 
Kamschatka 
Altai Mountains 
Caucasus 
Ararat 
Mount Argseus 
Bolor Mountains 
Hindu Kho 
Himalaya, North side.
 South side.
:}
Lat. N.
60°55'
56 40
50 —
43 —
39 42
38 33
37 30
34^
31“
Snow-level.
Feet.
4476
5233
7034
10,840
14,170
10,705
17,010
18,735
20,930
.13,070
In Africa, we have nothing dependable except that in
Morocco, Abyssinia, and on the equator, snowy mountains
occur. But in the southern ocean, it deserves notice, that
not only in such high, latitudes as 75° S., that of Mounts
Erebus and Terror, but in the much lower latitudes of
South Shetland (62° 30'), the South Sandwich group
(59°), and even South Georgia (54° 40'), the snow-line
reaches the sea-level.
(204) . The snows and glaciers of the Alps are reckoned
to occupy 1400 square miles (Forbes, citing Ebel), upon
which the melting effect of a hot summer day, taken at
3 millions of cubic feet per square mile per diem,1 would
afford 4200 millions of cubic feet of water, or about l-40th
of a cubic mile per diem for the supply of the streams
running from them.
(205) . The snow-fields on the tops of mountains are
prolonged downwards beyond their natural and proper
level, by glaciers, which are accumulations of snow thrust
down by pressure, a tergo, into precipitous valleys, and
pressed and hardened by alternate partial thawing and
“ regelation ” into ice. Their phenomena are very curious ;
but having been made the subject of a lucid and ela¬
borate special article in this work (See Glacier), by one
who, from personal research, and long meditation, is pro¬
bably better qualified than any one else to describe and
1 This supposes one-third of the sun’s vertical power (at the sea-level) to be effective for fusion during nine hours per diem.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 603
Physical explain them, we prefer referring the reader to that article
Geography. for ap concerns their descent and progress. There
is, however, one feature in their history which especially
concerns our subject, viz., the abrading and transporting
power of glaciers. Every glacier carries down with it
blocks of stone, and smaller fragments, which it deposits,
on melting in the valleys, in heaps and mounds of “ mo¬
raine,” distinguishable as such by the angular and little-
worn character of the masses. Where such glaciers run
out to the sea-coast in high latitudes, and break off, they
carry with them, as icebergs, these masses (often of very
great size), which they deposit on melting at the bottom
of the sea. Thus is explained satisfactorily a phenomenon
which at one time gave rise to an infinity of wild specu¬
lation—the occurrence of “ erratic blocks” and granite
boulders, in localities very far from any mountain-masses
of like material: on the limestone slopes of the Jura, for
instance, with the whole valley of Geneva and its lake
interposed between them and their obvious original site
in the peaks of Mont Blanc, or on the sandy, alluvial
plains of North Germany, with the Baltic intercepting
their transport, otherwise than by this sort of water-car¬
riage from the Scandinavian mountains. Geologists seem
agreed, that in such cases resort must be had either to
a formerly existing glacier slope at an earlier geological
epoch, or to their floating off on icebergs on the bosom
of an ancient ocean, a process which we see going on
under our eyes. Often, too, unequivocal signs of glacier
action are exhibited in deeply-grooved and friction-worn
surfaces of rocks in situ, the evident work of angular frag¬
ments forced along them with violent pressure; and in
northern latitudes, similar indications (as in the hills north
of the St Lawrence) testify to the heavy grinding of ice¬
bergs drifted along at an epoch when the whole of that
region formed the bed of a shallow sea, extending pro¬
bably to the pole. We come now to describe more par¬
ticularly the phenomena of rivers, commencing with those
of the New World, as in the case of the mountains.
(206.) Rivers of South America.—All the more con¬
siderable South American streams flow eastwai’d into the
Atlantic, the narrow strip of western slope from the Andes
to the Pacific being too confined, and the climate for the
most part too dry, to nurture anything beyond small moun¬
tain-streams. In fact, from Yaldivia northward, their
whole supply is from the snow, which lies in much less
abundance on that side. Of the rivers that flow eastward,
those of Patagonia, fi’om the extremity of the continent to
the mouth of the La Plata (lat. 35° S.), are of small mag¬
nitude, with few or no affluents, and making straight
across the dxy and shingly desert tenraces of Patagonia
for the sea, a region sterile and desolate in the extremest
sense of the word. Beyond these, a total change of
character in the river system, consequent on the changed
character of the climate, commences, and we find vast
rivers, with an immense development of affluents—the
principal of which, in their order of occui'rence, are,
1. The La Plata or Parana—for the former name apper¬
tains only to the wide estuary of Buenos Ayres. 2, The
San Francisco, whose mouth is in 10° 40' S. lat. 3. The
Paranahyba (2° 45' S.). 4. The Rio Para, or Tocantins
(0°40' S.). 5. The Maragnon, or Amazon, which may be
considered as falling into the sea exactly on the equator;
and, 6. The Orinoco (8° 40' N.)
(207.) The Rio de la Plata collects its waters fi’om
three very different descriptions of country. From the
eastern slope of the Andes, between the 19th and 25th
parallel of south latitude, it receives the Pilcomayo, the
Vermejo, and the Salado, sti’eams not much explored,
which traverse salt deserts, and the wild and inhospitable
region of the Gran Chaco. The Salado is brackish, and,
as laid down by Commander Page in his track survey, Physical
exhibits pei’haps the most tortuous sinuosities which can Geography,
be found in river navigation. From the north it receives
the Paraguay, with its numerous affluents, which drain
the central plains between the 13th and 25th degrees of S.
lat., and the western slopes of the Brazilian mountain
system, the Siei’ras of Arapares, Calhano, and Amambahi.
This is a magnificent idver, navigable from Corrientes
(lat. 27° 28' S., where it joins the main river) nearly to
its sources in lat. 13° S. It flows through a country
of most luxuriant vegetation, but in all the lower part of
its course, is subject to great and destructive inundations.
The eastern branch, which cai’ries the name of the Parana
till it forks into the Rio Grande and Paranahyba (not the
great river of that name), drains the interior of a large
basin included by the coast sierras on the east, the
sierras just mentioned on the west, and the Montes Pyre-
neos on the north, a district including much of the richest
part of the Brazilian territory. The Uruguay, which
drains the basin included between the Sien-a de Bitoanos
and the Albardao de S. Ana, runs parallel to the Parana,
and joins it at the estuary of La Plata, a shallow sea of fresh
water, 180 geographical miles in depth inland from the
coast, and 120 broad at its mouth. The total area di’ained
by this magnificent river system is no less than 886,000
square miles. A fine survey of the course of the Paraguay
has been recently executed (1855) by the government of
the United States, under the direction of Commander
Page above mentioned, in the steamer Waterwitch.
(208.) The basin of the San Francisco is contained
between the coast sierras from Rio de Janeiro to Cape
St Roque, and the mountains parallel to them forming
the next interior range of the Brazilian system, the SieiTas
Tiririca, Tabatinga, Gorgueha, and S. dos Irmaos. Its
course between these ranges is generally from south to
north, and their direction and continuance northward
’would lead, by a natural course, to an embouchure on the
north-west coast, beyond the Cape. But about the 10th
degree of S. lat. it turns suddenly to the eastwai’d, and,
cutting through three successive parallel sierras, empties
itself on the east coast, thus affording a striking illus¬
tration of the general fact noticed in art. 195, since the
coui’se actually pursued is px-ecisely along the line of de¬
marcation which separates the granitic formations of
this coast from the tertiaxy and alluvial ones of Pernam¬
buco and Maranham. The basin of the San Fi’ancisco
includes the district of Minas Geraes, the great source
of the mineral wealth of Bi'azil. It includes an area of
187,200 square geographical miles, and the river itself
is 1400 miles in length to its source in the Siex-ra da
Matta da Corda. The Paranahyba River, which drains
the province of Maranham (a basin of 115,200 square
miles), offers little of interest beyond the facilities it affords
for internal communication, which, as is the case with
all the rivers of South America, are the most complete
and perfect which the world possesses, the whole of that
vast continent east of the Andes being accessible from the
sea into almost every corner, granting only the aid of
steam navigation.
(209.) The Rio da Para is the joint estuary of two
great streams, the Araguay and the Tocantins, which
dx-ain the interior of the Brazilian mountain system, fol¬
lowing a parallel course on either side of the meridional
chain of the Cordillera Gi’ande. It enters the sea so near
the mouth of the Amazon (being separated from it, how¬
ever, by the so-called island of Marajos, of about 9000
square miles, behind which the narrow channel of Tagi-
puru runs from river to river), that it is sometimes called
an affluent of that river. The Amazon itself, by far the
largest river in the world, since the area of its basin ex-
604
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical cwls 1,500,000 square geographical is fe<1 f''cjP
Geography. tjie eastern slopes of the Andes, from the degiee o
to the 19th degree of S. latitude. Its most remote feeder
is the Apurimac, which descends from the extreme edg
of the plateau of Bolivia, near Caillomas, 3000 miles from
its mouth (following the stream), and among its affluen s
has many which would rank as first-rate rivers. It enters
the ocean by an estuary 135 geographical miles broad
and 200 long, but which wholly consists (at kast supei-
ficially) of fresh water. It is navigable 2200 miles fiom
its mouth, and by reason of the flatness of the greater
part of the region it traverses, there is but little interval
between its head waters and those of the Paraguay, on
the one side, and none between it and the Orinoco on the
other, inasmuch as one and the same tributary, the Gasse-
quiare, belongs indifferently to both river systems, tie
level being so complete at one point between them as to
obliterate the line of watershed, and establish a naturai
and permanent canal uniting the two basins (see art. 141).
The principal affluent of the Amazon (considered as pro¬
longed in its main stream under the names of the Solimaes,
the Maragnon, and the Yucatale, to the Apurimac) is the
Madeira, which rises among the farthest inland mountains
of the Brazilian system, and whose course, from the ex¬
tremity of the Cordillera Geral, where it leaves them,
is by a great series of cataracts and rapids down to
the plains. The length of this river, from its junction in
57° 40' W. to its extreme source in the Rio Grande,
which rises among the mountains north of Potosi, is not
less than 1600 geographical miles; the vast and almost
unexplored region between the two rivers, and, indeed,
nearly the whole course of the Maragnon itself, from the
junction upward (an area of more than half a million
square miles), being occupied by dense and all but im¬
penetrable forests (the Silvas of the Amazon), deluged by
the equatorial rains, whose effects in flooding the country
during the northward progress of the sun have been
already described (art. 193). Besides the Madeira, the
Amazon receives as tributaries the important rivers of
the Negro, the Tapajos, and the Xingu, the former ex¬
tending towards the sources of the Orinoco, and forming
a junction with it by the Cassequiare, as already men¬
tioned, the two latter draining the interior basin between
the watersheds of the Araguay, the Paraguay, and the
Madeira.
(210.) The basin of the Orinoco includes the western
slopes of the mountain system of Parime, and the eastern
of the Cordilleras of New Granada. North of the equator
its supply of water, area for area, is even greater than
that of the Amazon. For, in the interior of Guiana, 560
miles from the coast, when full, it exceeds three miles in
breadth, and the rise of the waters at this part of its course,
in the periodical floods, is from 30 to 36 feet. These
floods take place in that half of the year when the sun is
north of the equator (the course of the river lying on that
side of the line), and the quantity of rain which falls on
the area must be enormous, probably not less 200 or 300
inches annually. (Mrs Somerville, indeed, states it at
1000 inches, we know not on what authority, but if
this be correct, it can only be that the rain which
falls during one period of the day, in the wet season, is
in great part evaporated in the other, and, in fact, that
the same water falls over and over again.) Where
the Orinoco leaves the Parime mountains at Atures,
its course is broken by falls and rapids there and at
Maypures, which, though not deep enough to merit the
name of cataracts (being only 30 or 40 feet), have attained
celebrity in the picturesque description of Humboldt
(Aspects, i. 219), from the vast volume of water poured
down, and the singularly rugged nature of the ground.
At these falls, too, there are manifest indications of the Physical
course of the river having at some former period been Geography,
elevated from 160 to 190 feet above its present levek
(211.) Rivers of North America.—In North, as in South
America, all the great development of the hydraulic system
is on the east side of the Pacific mountain chain, the North
American Andes, as it may fittingly be designated. To¬
wards the Pacific, however, owing to the broader extent
of the mountain belt, the streams are not so stinted as in
the South, and we find, too, the Colorado and the Colum¬
bia, which merit the epithet of great rivers, the former
(which falls into the Gulf of California) having a basin of
170,000, the latter of 194,000, square miles,—streams
which, however, derive greater importance than belongs
to their mere magnitude, from their representing, with
the Sacramento, the drainage of the great gold-fields of
the West. The loftiest waterfall in the world (unless
exaggerated, is to be found in the Yohamite Valley, in
Mariposa (?) County, California, where a river as large
as the Thames at Richmond makes a single leap of 2100
feet perpendicular, the total height of the fall being 3100
(Gibson). On the east side of the coast ranges we have
six great river systems, two of them of the first magnitude,
viz. the Rio Grande del Norte and the Mississippi, which
fall into the Gulf of Mexico ; the St Lawrence, into the
Atlantic; the Saskatchewan and Churchill, into Hudson’s
Bay, and the Mackenzie, into the Arctic Ocean.
(212.) The Rio del Norte derives its waters almost
entirely from the mountain ranges which buttress the table¬
land of Mexico (the Cordillera of Cohahuela, and the
Sierras Madre and de lo Mimbre), and receives little or
no accession in traversing the intervening slopes to sea¬
ward. Its extreme feeders abut on the eastern borders
of two considerable closed areas, or “continental basins,
which collect, and suffice to evaporate, the waters of the
northern portion of the Mexican plateau, leaving, as usual,
lakes more or less salt.
(213.) The magnitude and importance of the Mississippi
will be at once appretiated from the fact of its diaining
nearly a million square miles of territory, admirably
adapted for human habitation, and inhabited, in fact, by
the most active and rapidly-increasing population in the
world. Its line of watershed is very remarkable for the
difference of altitude in different parts of its extent. On
the west, from the 38th to the 48th degree of N. lat., it
consists of the ridges of the Rocky Mountain range, aver¬
aging eight or ten thousand feet in altitude, while on the
north, the division of the American waters which flow
north from those which run to the south, cuts across the
central plain of the continent, between the 46th and 50th
parallels, and (except where it branches from the moun
tains) is nowhere more than 1500 or 1600 feet in eleva¬
tion, to its intersection with the western watershed of the
St Lawrence basin. This entire river system consists
of three great branches, the Missouri and the Mississippi
(uniting at St Louis, lat. 34° 84', long. 90° 12'), and the
Ohio, which falls in somewhat lower at New Madrid
(36° 32', 89° 32'), the Missouri receiving the waters from
the western mountains, the Mississippi from the central
slope, and the Ohio the inland drainage from the Appala¬
chian mountain chain. Each of these is a magnificent
river, with a great system of affluents. The Missouri is
navigable from the Great Falls, in the Rocky Mountains, to
the sea, a distance of 4000 miles; the Mississippi, from
those of St Anthony, 2240 ; while the Ohio, being con¬
nected by a system of canals with Lake Erie, and thence
with Lake Ontario (so as to evade the falls of Niagara),
carries out a water communication between the Gulfs of
Mexico and St Lawrence. The average slope of the
Mississippi, from its source, is 19,S7 in. per mile, or 1 in
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
605
Physical 3189 (corresponding to a slope of 1' 4"), or about three-
Geography. fourths that of the Rhone. It is therefore no sluggish
river, but in many parts of its course, a torrent, against
which steamers with difficulty make head, and which
rushes down laden Avith drift timber from the (yearly
disappearing) forests of the vast alluvial region it traverses,
cutting down timber-laden banks (whose section discloses
the forest growth and destruction of hundreds of thousands
of years—Lyeil), and carrying all out to sea through a
delta of unexampled extent (see art. 106). The Arkansas
and Red River join the Mississippi below Ncav Madrid.
Their course is through the desert country on the east
slope of the ChippaAvyan range, and they and their affluents
cut through the terraces parallel to that range almost at
right angles.
(214.) The St LaAvrence drains a vast table-land, whose
highest point is not more than 1680 feet above the sea,
and of which a very large portion is occupied by lakes,
Avhose united waters constitute more than half the fresh
water on the globe, and of Avhose extent, depth, and height
of their surfaces above the sea, Mr Johnston (Phys. A tlas,
p. 157) has given the following synopsis :—
Lake Superior..
Lake Michigan ,
Lake Huron 
Lake Erie 
Lake Ontario ...
Extent in
Square Miles.
32,000
22.400
20.400
9,600
6,300
Elevation
above Sea.
Feet.
630
600
600
565
234
Mean
Depth.
Feet.
900
1000
1000
120
530
The estuary of this river enters the sea very obliquely.
(The water being purified by subsidence in the lakes, it
forms no delta.) It is 80 geographical miles broad at its
opening into tbe Gulf of St Lawrence, and contracts very
gradually for 350 miles inland to Quebec. The commu¬
nication along the chain of lakes is broken bettveen lakes
Erie and Ontario by the stupendous fall of Niagara, the
largest and most magnificent, though far from the highest,
in the world, the total breadth of the river (which is
divided into twm great cataracts by Goat Island) being
3225 feet, with a depth of descent of 162 feet in the one
fall, and 149 on the other. The action of the water cuts
back the cliff over Avhich it falls at a supposed average
rate of about a foot per annum, so that in 30,000 years
it Avill probably have worked its way up to Lake Erie.
The sublimity of this fall is declared by all who have seen
it, to be such as no language is adequate to describe.
(215.) The basin of the Saskatchewan, 300,000 square
miles in extent, includes several large lakes, the chief of
which is Lake Winnepeg; as does also that of the Mackenzie
(441,000), within whose dreary confines lie the Atha¬
basca, the Slave, and the Great Bear Lakes, visited only
by fur hunters, or by those heroic explorers who, in the
cause of science, have furnished examples of all but super¬
human exertion and endurance.
(216.) The European Rivers are for the most part of
very small magnitude in comparison with those of Ame¬
rica. The largest are the Danube, the Dnieper, and the
Don, the tAvo former of which fall into the Euxine, and
the latter into the Sea of Azof, and thus ultimately belong
to the Mediterranean system.
(2170 The arid nature of the Spanish climate, and the
small amount of siioav in the Pyrenees, prevent the forma¬
tion of any large peninsular river, for the Douro and Ebro,
though considerable streams, cannot be said to merit that
title. As little can any of the French rivers which flow
westAvard. The waters of the Alps are carried northward
by the Rhine, soutliAvard by the Rhone and Po, and east-
Avard by the Danube, which receives all those of the
Carpathian basin, the Tyrolese and Illyrian Alps—'a total Physical
area of 234,000 square .geographical miles. It is navi- Geography,
gable nearly 1000 miles from the Euxine Sea, the last
400 of its course lying* through the flat countries of Wal-
lachia and Bulgaria, into which it enters by a rapid called
“ the Iron Gate,” betAveen Orsova and Gladova, through
the Balkan mountains, immediately below the Pass of
Kasan, cut by Trajan along the towering cliffs Avhich
descend to the Avater, in his first Dacian campaign, a.d.
103, and still bearing his inscription on the face of the
rock. The total course of the Danube, windings included,
is reckoned at 1494 geographical miles.
(218.) The north of Germany and Poland are drained
by the Elbe, the Oder, and the Vistula, of which the for¬
mer floAvs into the Atlantic, and the two last into the Bal¬
tic. The Elbe and Oder receive most of their Avaters from
the most northern outliers of the Alpine system of moun¬
tains, and traverse a country considerably undulated and
diversified; but the Vistula, with which commences the
northern hydraulic system of the great Sarmatian plain,
traverses, through almost the whole extent of its basin, a
nearly dead level, full of lakes and morasses. The same
may be said of much of the upper course of the Dnieper,
a river only remarkable as furnishing, by means of canals,
a complete system of navigable communication between
the Euxine and the Baltic Seas.
(219.) The most notable European waterfalls are those
of the Rhine at Schaffhausen, not lofty, being only 70
feet in height, but \’ery picturesque; those of the Velino
at Terni, and the Anio at Tivoli, both artificial, but of
exquisite beauty; that of Riukan Fossan, where the
Maanelvan, a large river flowing out of theMiosvatn lake
in Tellemarken, in Norway, springs 946 feet at a single
leap; the Glommen Falls, and those of the Moxa, near
Stav, in the same country. The Falls of the Clyde, in
Scotland, are not wanting in grandeur or beauty. Those
of Gavarnie (1400 feet) in the Pyrenees, and of the
Staubbach (1004, as measured barometrically by the
writer of this article) in Switzerland, are mere rills, re¬
markable only for their height, in which, hoAvever, both
are surpassed by that of the Oreo, a stream Avhich
springs 2400 feet from Monte Rosa, on the Italian side of
the Alps, (Woodbridge and Willard), and of Avhich some
further account would be desirable.
(220.) With exception of the Ural chain, as observed
in art. 174, the northern portion of the Europo-Asiatic
continent, from the Valdai to Kamtschatka, is one vast
unbroken plain from the Arctic Ocean to the Altai—an
area of 3,600,000 geographical square miles, through
which, besides the Dwina, Indigirka, and Kolyma—no
inconsiderable streams—three rivers of the first magni¬
tude (the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena) deliver their
waters into the Arctic Ocean. To form some idea of the
excessive flatness of this immense region, and of that
through which the Volga flows into the Caspian, it will
suffice to mention the heights above the sea-level of some
of its more notable positions—viz. St Petersburg, 0 ;
Moscow, 363 feet; Tobolsk, 115; Perm, 370; Pinsk,
434; Casan, 57 ; Barnaoul, 383 ; Jakutsk, 268. Now,
Tobolsk is situated on the Irtisch, a tributary of the
Obi, and Barnaoul on the Obi itself, the one at 525
geographical miles, the other at 920 geographical miles
direct distances from their respective mouths, which gives
an average slope of the country in the one case of 8"T1,
in the other of 4"‘87. The Yenesei, after leaving the
mountains, has, in like manner, neaidy 800 miles to tra¬
verse, in a direct line, of a similar flat region, to the head of
its estuary. Both rivers, therefore, in the lower part of
their courses, are sluggish and monotonous, and, owing to
the high latitude, desolate to the last degree in their fea-
606
Physical
Geography.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
tures. The latter, however, in the superior part of its
course from Yeneseisk upwards, has more the character
of a mountain river. It derives a large portion ot its
waters from the lake Baikal, 153o feet above the sea, a
most romantic and beautiful mountain-basin, which is
itself fed by the Selenga River, which carries into it the
waters of the Tangnou, Kentei Khan and Tschokindo.
The basins of these great rivers respectively occupy
924,800, and 784,500 square miles, and their total
lengths 2320, and 2800 geographical miles respectively.
(221.) The Lena takes its rise among the mountains ot
north-east Siberia, on the northern and western slopes ot
the Daourian, the Yablonoi, Udskoi, and Aldan moun¬
tains, from which it issues at Yakutzk, “ the coldest o
inhabited places thence to the sea its course is between
banks of ice or frozen soil, which, where undermined in
the summer, expose to view the carcases (not mere skele¬
tons, but with the skins, and even the flesh remaining) or
extinct elephants, evidently adapted for inhabiting a cold
climate, being covered with a thick coating of long shaggy
hair—the flesh being in some instances so fresh as to have
been devoured by dogs. The total length of the Lena is
2400 miles, and the area of its basin 594,000 square geo¬
graphical miles.
(222.) The mountains which form the southern water¬
shed of these rivers by no means alone separate the wateis
which run into the Arctic from those received by the
Indian Ocean. Between these slopes is interposed that
great continental basin spoken ot in art. 137, which,
however, owing to the peculiar aridity of its climate, has
few rivers, and those for the most part terminating in salt
lakes. The greatest of these are the Caspian Sea, and
that of Aral—expanses of salt water, though less so than
the ocean—the former of 140,000, the latter of 23,000
square geographical miles. Of these, the Caspian is fed
by the Volga, one of the largest Russian rivers, which,
with the Ural, drains the south-western slopes of the
mountains so called, and the flat steppe country from
Moscow to Casan, entering the Caspian at Astrakan,
after a course of 2400 miles. The Volga is admirably
adapted for navigation, and by means of canals con¬
necting its upper waters with the lakes Ladoga and
Onega, near St Petersburg, forms a complete water com¬
munication between the Caspian and the Baltic by the
Neva. The Aral Sea is fed by the Amu or G-ihon River,
which descends from the plateau of Pamir, and the Syr,
or Sihon, which, breaking through the Bolor range, drains
a somewhat similar plateau, of a triangular form, between
that range, the western extremity of the Thian-Shan, and
an offset of that chain running in a north-west direction.
Of this region scarcely anything is known, nor is our
information much more complete respecting that portion
of the great basin in question which extends from the
Altai to the Kuen Lun, and along the axis of which, cen¬
trally placed, runs the whole length of the Thian-Shan,
dividing the waters of the discontinuous salt-lake system,
on its north side, from the more connected one of the lake
Lop or Loph on its south.
(223.) To the south of this basin (which includes in its
westward prolongation the whole of Persia, and which
probably exists as such only in virtue of its aridity, since,
had it a more humid climate, a great lake and river sys¬
tem would assuredly have been established of west-flowing
waters, communicating with the Euxine by self-cut chan¬
nels), commences the river system of India, which consists
of three gigantic rivers, the Indus, the Ganges, and the
Brahmaputra (which carry off the waters of Upper and
Central India, including the plateau of Malwa), and a num¬
ber of smaller streams which drain the peninsula, the Physical
chief of which are the Nerbudda, the Godavery, and the Geography.
Kistna, the former flowing westward, the two latter
east.
(224.) The Indus is fed by the streams of the celebrated
Punjab, or Five Rivers, from the lofty region of Ladak,
the western and inferior portion of the Thibetan plateau
(penetrated by the Sutlej to the lake Rewan), and the
southern slopes of the Himalaya, as far east as the Peak .
of Jumnotri. These rivers, once free of the mountain intri¬
cacies, converge to and unite at a point near the southern
extremity of the Suleiman mountains, after which the
Indus receives no tributaries of any importance in the
rest of its course (280 geographical miles), to Hyderabad,
where it forks out into a delta 115 geographical miles
in length, and 105 in breadth from Kurraci to Kori,1 whence
it affords a free navigation up the country to Multan and
Lahore, the current (except in the flood-season) running
about a mile an hour. Its eastern branches were early
connected with the Ganges by canals for purposes of com¬
merce and irrigation. Its total length is 1960 geogra¬
phical miles, and its basin extends over 312,000 square
geographical miles.
(225.) The Ganges receives by far the greater portion
of its waters from the Himalaya range, from Jumnotri to
the Lacheh Pass near Darjiling, east of which all the
waters from those mountains flow to join the Brahmapu¬
tra. Very little of the plateau beyond the first range of
the snowy peaks is drained by it, the whole of their
northern slopes down to the level of the plateau being
divided between the Sutlej (the eastern branch of the
Indus) on the west, and the Yarn or Sanpi (a feeder of the
Brahmaputra) on the east. In the western part of its
upper course, its branches spread out like a fan, and col¬
lect not only the waters of the south Himalaya, but those
of a great basin between the Aravulli, the Vindhya, and
the Kymor ranges of mountains forming the plateau of
Malwa. In fact, it may be considered as. resulting from
the union of “ nineteen or twenty large rivers, of which
twelve are larger than the Rhine,” (Somerville). Its delta
has already been noticed, art. 106. The floods of the
Ganges commence, as already stated, in April, attain
their maximum about the middle of August, and con¬
tinue till October. The effect of the causes which produce
them may best be estimated from the ratio of the water
delivered per second at the maximum and at the minimum,
viz. 494,208 and 36,330 cubic feet respectively. The
Ganges is remarkable for the great and rapid changes in
its course in certain districts, by which it cuts away its
banks in one part to add to them in others. Forty square
miles (25,600 acres) are said to have been so carried
away in one district, in the course of a few years.
(226.) The Ganges and Brahmaputra unite in a common
delta, or rather in two deltas, distinct at their commence¬
ment, but which, in their prolongation seaward, have met
and overlapped, presenting the form of an inverted A\>
the points turned inland. They drain a joint area of
432,000 square geographical miles; but the latter is.by
far the larger stream, its minimum delivery of water being
150,000 cubic feet per second (Wilcox), against 36,000
delivered by the Ganges. Its course is remarkable for
the sudden turn it takes round the eastern extremity of
the Himalaya range, after draining the northern slopes of
those mountains, and the mountain valleys of the Thibetan
plateau; a turn evidently corresponding to the sudden
change in the direction of the upheaving forces acting at
this point. Its floods are of immense volume; the plains
of Upper Assam are an entire sheet of water, eight or ten
1 We follow, in these Indian names, the Italian system of pronunciation as to the vowels, and as nearly as to the consonants as each case
admits.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical feet deep, from the middle of June to that of September;
Geography; an(j no -wonder, when we consider that at one point (Cher-
ra-pongi, in the Khasya hills) nearly 600 inches of rain
fall annually {i. e. in the six wet months). The upper
course of the Brahmaputra is but little known, and the
wanderings of its branches among the mountains east and
north of Assam belong rather to speculation than to know¬
ledge.
(227.) Before passing to the river systems of Eastern
Asia, we must revert to that of its south-western area. The
peninsula of Arabia is riverless as it is rainless, and it is
not till we pass out of the reach of the tropical indraft of
the north-east winds, that we find in the twin rivers, the
Euphrates and Tigris, indications of a different set of con¬
ditions. These celebrated streams are supplied entirely
from the Armenian and Kurdistan watershed, receiving
positively no accession from the Syrian desert on their
western side. They both run in a south-eastern, gene¬
rally parallel course, to the head of the Persian Gulf, the
Euphrates being the larger, and its upper waters curving
round along the slope of the Armenian plateau, so as to
inclose the upper basin of the Tigris. From Bir, in 37°
N. lat., where it leaves the mountain country, it pursues
a course skirting the eastern border of the desert, and for
the last 700 or 800 miles from Kirkesia downwards,
receives not the smallest tributary. Near Bagdad, it
approaches the Tigris within twelve miles, including
between them the plains of Mesopotamia; and here, in
those old historic times when Babylon and Nineveh were
cities, and empire held its seat in these now desolate
regions, the rivers were connected by canals, which served
the joint purposes of commerce and irrigation. Like the
Ganges and Brahmaputra, they have a common delta,
which is supposed by many geologists (not without histo¬
rical evidence in support of the opinion) to have been in
great measure produced within the last 3000 years. The
local circumstances are peculiarly favourable to the growth
of a delta, the long narrow Persian Gulf allowing of no
lateral sweep of the tides to carry off and disperse the
deposited matter; and it is extremely probable that at
some remoter epoch, but still quite within the most recent
geological period, the Gulf occupied the whole of Meso¬
potamia to Bir and Diarbekir, leaving only a narrow but
hilly isthmus at Scanderoon to connect Arabia with Asia
Minor, as that of Suez connects it with Africa. At pre¬
sent, the Tigris sends out branches to the Euphrates from
Amara, 150 miles from the mouth, but the complete junc¬
tion of the rivers takes place 100 miles lower at Korna,
from which to Bassora they form a single stream, subdi¬
viding again to form the modern delta. We now return
to the river systems of Eastern Asia.
(228.) Each of the long and strait valleys which run
southward from the breaking up of the Himalaya moun¬
tain system, between the ranges of the Cambodian penin¬
sula, has its river, of which the chief are the Irawadi, the
Martaban or Saluen, the Menam, and the Meking or Cam¬
bodia, which water the Burmese empire, the kingdom of
Siam, and the territory of Cochin-China. They are but
little known to Europeans, with exception of the Irawadi,
which has been ascended 450 miles from its mouth to
Ava, the Burmese capital. It is a magnificent stream,
delivering into the ocean no less than 350,000 cubic feet
of water per second on an average of the whole year (of
which l-3000th part by weight is silt). Like all tro¬
pical rivers, it has its season of flood, during which its
volume increases tenfold (from the minimum), running
then with a velocity of 3-|- to 5 miles per hour. It enters
the sea at Cape Negrais, through an extensive delta, which
is prevented from spreading westward by the subaqueous
prolongation of the chain of the mountains of Aracan,
607
which goes to form the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, Physical
Sumatra and Java. There is reason to believe this coast Geography,
to have been in a state of upheaval at least since the year
1750, and perhaps longer, though it is only from that
date that positive evidence of changes of level are pro¬
curable. In the volcanic island of Reguain, not far from
the coast, three distinct steps of this process have been
clearly pointed out.
(229.) The Chinese empire is watered by four great river
systems, emptying themselves into the Pacific : the Hong-
kiang, Tche-kiang or Canton River, the least of the four,
and the Yang-tse-kiang, the Hoang-ho (or Yellow River),
and the Amur, all three of gigantic magnitude, the two
former of which form what may be considered as a twin
system, having a near approach to a common embouchure.
The Yellow River derives its upper waters from the south¬
eastern border of the continental basin above mentioned,
including the watershed of the Thibetan plateau on its
northern and eastern side, as also from the Yung-ling,
Pe-ling, and Tapa-ling mountains, which traverse China
from west to east, and direct its waters to the sea at Nan¬
kin through a course of 2900 geographical miles, and over
a basin area of 548,000 square miles. Branches of the
last-named mountains separate it from the Hoang-ho
until near the sea, when they communicate in the low
levels by innumerable canals ; their mouths, however,
being separated by an interval of about 90 miles, and by
a delta, the common produce of both. The Hoang-ho
has a basin of 537,000 square, and a course of 2300 linear,
geographical miles.
(230.) The Amur takes its rise among the Daourian,
Tschokindo, and Kiang-khan mountains, and the southern
slope of the Yablonoi Krebet. It is a river of very pecu¬
liar interest as regards the progress of Russian domination
in the direction of China, though little known to other
than Russian explorers. It has a basin of 583,000 square
geographical miles in extent, and a course of 2380 geo¬
graphical miles, so that it is a river system of the first
order, and entering the sea at the very junction of the
two great land-locked seas of Ochotsk and Japan, will
assume, at some period in the world’s history, a com¬
mensurate degree of political and commercial importance.
(231.) Among African Rivers the Nile is the only con¬
spicuous one, and is in many respects the most remarkable
river in the world,—as the seat of the earliest civilization,
as a perpetual witness to the stability of those great natural
arrangements by which the wants of one region are sup¬
plied by the superfluities of another, and as a geological
chronometer by which some insight may be obtained into
the duration of the existing order of things antecedent to
history. Its ultimate sources are in all probability to be
looked for in the mountains on, or adjacent to, the equator,
and perhaps in the lake Ungiamesi. The main stream,
the Bahr-el-Abiad or White River, has been traced as far
as 3° 39' N. lat., and may therefore very well derive its
waters from snowy ranges, such as we know to exist in
equatorial Africa, or from the lake above mentioned
(which, be it remembered, is fresh), or from a generally
boggy or lacustrine district, watered by equatorial rains ;
for there is reason to believe that during the sojourn
of the sun north of the equator, the vapours of the Indian
Ocean must of necessity be swept by the south-east trade
over that precise district, and there precipitated in torrents
of rain. It is joined by the Blue Nile (Bahr-el-Azrek),
which rises in the Galla country, south of Abyssinia, at
Khartum, and by the Atbara, which traverses Sennaar at
Goos, about the 18th degree of north latitude, from which
point, in its farther passage through Dongola, Nubia,
and Egypt, a distance of nearly .1300 miles, following the
windings of the stream, it ceases to receive any accession
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
608
G& "i, «" ofa A”
a Suoce“'on o/monuments of ancient eplendonf, to wit ch
the*1world affords no parallel, to its ^t^the “onntatns
on either side being low ranges (decreasing in hei0
Assouan downwards) of granite, sandstone, an^nummult,
hot of which all the lower portions are buried beneatn
vast alluvial deposits brought down by the inundatio ,.
The Nile delivers at Assouan 24,000 cubic feet ° " d
per second when at its lowest at the summer solstice, and
362,000 when at the highest in Qctober (Horner, . 'U
1855) Its mean annual delivery is calculated by •
TaSot at 101,000. At the time of the flood it is loaded
with black mud of most fertilizing quality, to tl e a“°^_
of l-633d of its weight, so that the tota! qua y
tilizing matter spread over Egypt, or carried out.to s^’13
aboutUO millions of tons. This immense deposit is com¬
puted, from the evidence afforded by ancient monuments
the bases of which have been silted (not sanded) up, to caus
a rise of the soil of the valley of 3^ inches per century.
From borings made, at the instance of Mr Horner, under
the colossal statue of Rameses at Memphis, the true Nile
sedimentwas found to terminate at 30 feet beneath the
foundation of the platform on which the colossus stands,
itself 10 feet below the present surface, which gives an
interval of 10,285 years from the commencement of depo¬
sition at that spot to the age of Rameses, or a date of
B c 11 646. At the depth of 39 feet a piece of pottei)
was found, which (unless subsequently buried there) must
have dated its construction from B.C. 11,517 (Hoiner
P. T., 1858). The supposed drainage basin ot tne iNiie
is 520,000 square, and its supposed total course 2240
linear, geographical miles.
(232.) The next African river in importance, as regards
internal communication, is the Zambesi, Cuama, or Quili-
mano, recently explored by Dr Livingstone, which enteis
the sea at Quilimane, in lat. 18° S., and, if really connected,
as he appears to consider demonstrated, through the
Victoria Falls, with the Liba, the Liambi, the Luambesi,
and an innumerable host of other rivers which cover the
interior of south Central Africa like a vast netwoik o
anastomosing streams, drains an area of not less than
120 square degrees, or 432,000 square geographical miles.
The falls referred to are perhaps the most striking, after
Niagara, which exist. The river, 1000 yards in breadth,
is suddenly swallowed up in a narrow perpendicular cleft,
100 feet deep, in a black basaltic rock directly across its
course, which is prolonged from the bank 40 or 50 miles,
in which the river takes its new course compressed in a deep
channel of 15 or 20 yards. The hydraulic system of the
interior of South Africa, disclosed by Dr Livingstone s
researches, is anomalous in the extreme, and is only com¬
patible with the idea of a generally level plateau, deluged
with periodical rains, but not, like the plain of the Ama¬
zons, dominated by a great range of high lands on one
side, with a slope to the other, but as if the periodical
rains fell on a very gently rising convexity, so as to leave
the waters undecided by what channels to seek the main
arterial drainage. It would seem very probable that the
cleft of the Victoria Falls has been of comparatively
recent origin, and has determined a new system of drain¬
age by which the water of those regions has been carried
off more rapidly than heretofore, since the general tenor
of Dr Livingstone’s narrative points to what may be
termed a secular desiccation of the districts traversed by
him.
(233.) The Niger, Joliba, or Quorra, rises in the Kong
Mountains, and after running a considerable distance along
their bases to the east-and-by-north, makes a su^^^Urnf Geography.
ot Timbuctoo to the south, and penetrating the chain of
mountains, reverts to the west coa^t, and fafls mto the
sea in the Gulf of Guinea at the New and Old Calabar,
the extreme rivers of its delta,—streams foul and fetid,
redolent of marsh poison and the moral pestilence of the
slave trade. The expedition under Baikie, in 1854, has
shewn the possibility of penetrating through this disgust¬
ing basin into regions full of tropical life, and exhibiting
humanity under an aspect a few shades less repulsive than
its savage forms for the most part assume. •
(234.) Of Australian Rivers the catalogue is small, and,
so far as can be at present ascertained, confined to very
moderate distances from the coast. It would seem most
probable that the central regions of that singular continent
will furnish another instance of a “continental basin
with a system of internal drainage and salt lakes. _ Most
of its streams flow in deep rocky clefts, affording no irriga¬
tion, and assuming alternately the impetuosity of torrents
and the stagnancy of a chain of pools with a communi¬
cating thread of water sunk in deep gulleys channelled in
a tabfe-land. These streams rush with wonderful rapidity
in the rainy season. The Hawkesbury has been known
to swell to 100 feet above its usual level, sweeping away
everything in its course. From Count Strzelecki we learn
that the average fall of the rivers running eastward in the
colony of New South Wales, is 48 feet per mile, of those
which run westward 9 feet, the land sloping inwards more
Sia(235.r Pampas, Silvas, Llanos, Prairies, Savannahs,
Steppes, Tundras, cf-c.—The mountains which constitute
the central ridge of the old continent and the lateral of
the new, tower to a vast height, while on their flanks, and
after a more or less extensive interval of broken eountiy
and lower chains, they hill away into sloping sheets, ter¬
racing down by steps into the low lands, which ultimately
flatten into what becomes at last an unvaried plain, ex¬
tending to the borders of a far remote ocean. 1 he easier
accessibility of these regions, and in nmny cuses their high
fertility (formed as they have been by alluvial depositio
from the washings of the higher ground), constitute some
of them the principal theatres of human hab.tation,
though it would seem that the higher developments of
civilized life require something of the excitement and ha -
dihood generated by the neighbourhood ot at least a hi )
country, and languish in the monotonous ease of an unin¬
terrupted level, however adapted by its luxuriance to
that material civilization which commerce testers.
(236 ) Each of the more extensive regions ot this Kina
has some peculiar character due to its soil, climate, and
the nature of its vegetable and animal tenants. ui ini
forbid lengthened or minute description ; but we win
endeavour, in as few words as possible, to convey some
notion of the leading features of the principal among these
flat regions. . ,
(237.) The Pampas of Patagonia seem destined to perpe¬
tual desolation, not only by their climate (ait. ), u
also by the nature of their soil, which terraces own in
almost unbroken sheets of shingle and basalt, diversified
with huge boulders, the whole brought down, no ou ,
by ancient glaciers, and deposited by their melting w len
floated off to sea, and which occupy the whole eastern
slope of the continent, from its extremity to the Rio Go o-
rado. In these regions the vegetation is stunted, the winds
fierce and tempestuous, and the population almost nil.
(238.) This desolate region is succeeded by one hardly
less so, though different in its style of desolation. In the
pampas of Brazil and Buenos Ayres, vast tracts are des¬
titute of trees, and almost of water, but lying in a warmer
latitude, and having, therefore, been exempt from the
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
609
Physical action of those causes alluded to in the last article, which
Geography, ^ye covered the alluvium with stony fragments, hardly
a stone or a pebble is to be found in them for hundreds
of miles. In this region, which extends southward from
the estuary of the La Plata to Patagonia, and westward to
the feet of the Andes, the alternation of the wet and dry
season, acting on a soil composed entirely of a red argil¬
laceous alluvium, with here and there calcareous concre¬
tions, effect no other variety than the growth and decay
of gigantic thistles for some distance from the coast,
replaced further inland by the long-tufted pampas grass,
' ranged over by innumerable herds of wild or semi-wild
horses and cattle, whose skins are exported, and whose fat
and dried flesh serves for fuel; and where, in the dry season,
the pampero’s transient wind-storms from the interior
raise clouds of dust, involving the whole horizon in dai'k-
ness so impenetrable, that even the lightning which accom¬
panies them is only heard, not seen. Roads there are
none, nor any need of them. Lassoing a wild horse,
mounting and riding him till he falls from fatigue, and is
exchanged for another, the traveller, with his Gaucho
guide, speeds on, day after day, and week after week, as
for the bare life, towards the far-distant and long-invisible
hills. The exciting gallop of Captain Head across this
country, will probably be familiar to many of our readers.
A tract of swamp and bog, succeeded by a region of
ravines and stones, with a zone of thorny bushes and
dwarf trees reaching to the Andes, complete the picture
of this uninviting region, which communicates northwards,
along the western slopes of the Parana Valley, with the
hideous wilderness of the Gran Chaco traversed by the
Salado, Vermejo, and Pilcomayo rivers, where the wild
Indian still ranges in inaccessible freedom. The pampas
of La Plata and Patagonia together, are computed by
Humboldt to occupy 135,200 square leagues, or 1,217,000
square geographical miles. If they offer little of interest
on their surface, the buried, and in many cases hardly
buried, gigantic remains of the Glyptodon, Mylodon,
and Megatherium, with other singularly-formed monsters
of an earlier Fauna, which they cover, amply com¬
pensate to the geologist for this deficiency by presenting
him with the enigma of a once animated creation, which
seems to have simply died out, without any of those geo¬
logical cataclysms and catastrophes, or changes of climate,
to which we are in the habit of attributing such events in
general. It is somewhat singular, too, that among all
these remains, few attributable to carnivora have been
discovered, the most remarkable among them being the
Machairodon Neogeum, Sabre-tusked Tiger, a truly dread¬
ful form of fossil voracity.
(239.) The Silvas of the Amazon River include a tract of
perhaps not less than half a million square miles of the
central area of South America, where, owing to the rich
quality of the alluvium brought down by that river and
its tributaries, and spread over the country by its inunda¬
tions, aided, in the wet season, by an immense rain-fall,
and by the general heat of the climate, vegetation seems
carried to the extreme of exuberance. A region more
than six times the area of France, crossed by the equator,
and reaching from the cordilleras of the Andes to the
mountains of Parime, is clothed with a mass of forest, so
dense and impenetrable as to defy access, except by navi¬
gation, and tenanted by innumerable wild animals, among
which the monkey tribe holds a very conspicuous place.
The descriptions given by Humboldt of this region, present
pictures of forest life and scenery in which every feature
of grandeur, gloom, and savage wildness is concentered.
(240.) The Llanos of the Orinoco occupy a perfectly
level area of nearly 160,000 square miles, so level,
indeed, that elevations of a few feet, quite imperceptible
VOL. xvn.
to the eye as slopes, suffice to form the watershed lines Physical
between adjacent streams. After the rains (during whose Geography,
continuance the whole country is inundated) a rich pasture
covers it, which has procured it, from the natives, the
designation of the “ Sea of Grass.” This speedily dries
and furnishes the material of extensive conflagrations,
which, repeated year after year, effectually serve to main¬
tain the treeless character of the region. The dust-storms
here also are terrific, and are admirably described by
Humboldt (Aspects, p. 17).
(241.) About half the total area of North America, from
the Alleghanies to the Rocky Mountains, including great
part of Canada, Labrador, and the Indian country to the
north, to the amount of nearly 3,000,000 of square miles,
has been characterised by Humboldt as “ an almost con¬
tinuous region of savannahs and prairies.” The terms,
however, apply more correctly to those regions of the
Great North American plain and flat river basins which
are deficient in timber. These, however, differ much in
climate, soil, and aspect. To the west of the Mississippi,
where the ground rises in terraces towards the Rocky
Mountains, the climate is arid, the soil sterile, often full
of salt, and destitute, at all events, of fresh springs. The
prairies of Texas, however, have a rich soil, a profusion
of grass, and flowers of fine hues and delicate scent, and
are adorned, not indeed with forests, but with frequent
clumps of large trees, or here and there a single one of
vast breadth of growth, covered with long pendent moss.
To the east of the Mississippi, along the coast of the Gulf
of Florida, extends a region of so-called Pine Barrens,
where only trees of that family can extract nutriment from
the sour sand. These are not confined to Alabama and
Florida, but extend far inland, and occupy large tracts in
North Carolina and Virginia. East of the Mississippi,
the country, till cleared by the increasing population, was
for the most part richly wooded, interspersed, however,
with savannah and prairie grounds, the treeless character
of which, as in the case of the Llanos, was perpetuated
by frequent conflagrations, which swept across whole dis¬
tricts, and destroyed every living thing within their area.
In the southern districts, the air, especially in the
“ bottoms,” or low swampy regions bordering on the
rivers, from the heat and quantity of decaying vegetation,
is impregnated with malarious miasma, producing ulti¬
mately, at New Orleans, the most virulent type of yellow
fever.
(242.) The great northern plain of the old continent
occupies an area of between 4,000,000 and 5,000,000 of
square miles. From Belgium, through Holland (much of
which lies actually below high-water mark), and North
Germany and Prussia to the Vistula, we find a cultivated
though sandy soil, with large tracts of heath interspersed,
and presenting over all the area bordering on the North
Sea and the Baltic, the phenomenon of granitic and syenitic
blocks scattered in abundance, not uniformly, but in
patches here and there, and referable as their origin to
the older igneous rocks of the Scandinavian mountains—
a phenomenon first brought into prominent notice by
Deluc (Oeol. Travels), and since received as one of the
chief supports of the “ Glacier Theory.”
(243.) At the Vistula may be said to commence the
great Sarmatian, or East European plain, which, with
exception of the Valdai Hills, extends from the Baltic to
the Black and Caspian Seas, and to the Ural Mountains.
It may be divided into three regions—a northern, extend¬
ing along the coasts of the Gulf of Bothnia and Finland,
and the White Sea, and including all the region north of
the Valdai to the middle of the Ural. Its climate, soil,
and swampy character admit but little cultivation, and
only a scanty growth of trees—chiefly birch and fir;
4 H
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
610
Phyriod while much of the ground is covered with a species of
Geography. moss or peat called tundra, which reappea s _
northern area of the Asiatic contment where
ditions prevail. The middle region of Russia is fertile
and well watered, with a climate of only moderate seven y,
a soil of rich alluvial mould, admitting of high culture,
surface gently undulated, and extensive forests of pine,
birch, and deciduous trees. This region is surrounded, t
the south, by sandy, barren, and often saline w i
commence at the Dnieper river and extend along the
Sea of Azof, including all the country north ^d ea^t
of the Caspian, and connect themselves by the deseit
of Kharesm, and the steppes of Kirghiz,
Baraba, with the great Siberian plain nort^ °f th '
Nothing can exceed the dreary monotony of these SU P - ’
wandered over by nomadic tribes—grassy indeed, an
covered with flowering shrubs, tulips, and rosaceou
pints for a few months, but parched by the sun and
drying winds in summer, while in winter they become
howling and shelterless wastes of snow. Some of these
Asiatic° steppes are covered with succulent ever-green
articulated soda plants; in some, on the borders of the
great salt districts, the salsola assumes a rich c"ms0
or orange colour, giving a peculiar g ow 0 e ^ an
plains on the borders of salt lakes, while the plains them¬
selves glisten with flakes of exuded salt, like fresh-fallen
snow.
L W V V • . T>
(244 ) In North Siberia winter reigns supreme, be¬
yond the 62d parallel corn does not ripen, and beyond
this the fir forests intermix with and gradually give p ace
to the tundra, among the swamps of which, buried or
half buried, mammoth tusks, or rather those of the
Elephas Primigenius (art. 221), occur so frequently as to
constitute a very valuable article of search and commerce.
These tusks, together with the skeletons of these and
several other animals, form immense local accumulations,
which become richer and more extensive the further one
advances north. They are found in greatest abundance
in New Siberia, and in the islands which fringe the bor¬
ders of the continent between the Lena and the Indijirka,
especially Lachow or Liakhoff, which is represented as
almost wholly consisting of such remains. Hundreds of
poods (40 lbs. Eng.) are thence extracted annually for
exportation. They are frequent also in Kamschatka.
(245.) The great alluvial plain of China occupies
upwards of 200,000 square miles, and is the seat of the
oldest civilization of which we have any authentic
account (sacred history, of course, excepted), and. of
actually the most numerous and condensed population
anywhere to be found on the globe. It is for the most
part a vast plain, crossed in all directions and irrigated
by canals, devoted wholly to culture, of which rice forms
the principal article of produce, while the low hills afford
tea to so vast an extent, that between 60 and 70 millions
of pounds are imported annually into Britain alone.
(246.) The principal southern slope of the Asiatic con¬
tinent is that of Central and Lower India, or the great
plain of the Ganges and Indus, of which all the lower part
is alluvial and of wonderful productiveness, at least under
the influence of artificial irrigation. What may be called
the Plain extends almost to the foot of the Himalayas, the
slope of the Ganges (art 196) being only one foot in 15,840.
Benares, distant from Calcutta between 500 and 600 miles
along the river, is only 270 feet above the sea. The valley
of the Indus is sandy and barren, unless where artificially
irrigated. On the east of the river, in its lower part, the
plains expand into a sandy and desert district of many
square degrees in extent, called the Thur, which is so low
near the mouth of the river as to be overflowed by the
tide, and incapable of cultivation. The Runn of Cutch, an
extensive region, the coast line of which is laid down very
differently in different maps, adjacent to the delta of the
Indus, is supposed to he subject to frequent alterations of
level from geological causes, one of which is on record so
late as 1819, by which a considerable extent of what before
was land was submerged, and a portion of the internal
navigation of the country, which had been closed for
centuries, was again rendered practicable, while another
part adjoining was permanently elevated.
(247.) Of Climates.—What we term the climate ot a
country is the result of all the meteorological influences
to which it is habitually subject, and includes not merely
the mean amount or intensity of the meteorological ele¬
ments, hut their distribution over the several months of
the year and the several hours of tke day. The mode oi
ascertaining exactly the mean annual amount and the laws
of periodical fluctuation of these elements separately con¬
sidered, of calculating them numerically, and representing
the final conclusions to the eye by curves laid down in
charts, is abundantly explained in our article on Meteor¬
(248.) The elements which go to constitute our notions
of climate, are chiefly temperature and moisture. Th®se’
indeed, are by no means the sole causes which affect
vegetable and animal life. There are other elements, such
as°the greater or less habitual violence of the wind; solar
lio-ht, as a vital stimulus, apart from the heat which
accompanies it, and which stands in relation to the
greater or less habitual obscuration of the sky by cloud ; .
electrical manifestations ; and lastly, barometric pressure,
as a measure of the quantity of air taken up at each inspi- t
ration of an animal, or present to a given surface ot leat
in a plant, an element whose importance has been rather
overlooked. All these constitute items in our estimate ot *
a climate, and each of them, when present m a high
deoree, gives it a marked character. But temperature
and moisture exercise so preponderating an influence,
that, in a general view of climates, we may limit our¬
selves to their consideration, regarding the others as sub¬
ordinate, and their excess or deficiency as incidental and
special causes of variety. Even thus limited, the number
of cases which arise by simple combination ot high, low,
and medium annual averages, and of great and small
annual and diurnal fluctuation (each of which exists as a
reality over some more or less extensive region ot the
earth’s surface), would become embarrassing. The diur¬
nal fluctuations, however, assume importance only in two
eases,—1st, When, as in the circumpolar regions, the year
is divided into two very unequally illuminated seasons,
and where the diurnal fluctuation in effect merges in the
annual; and 2dly, at very great elevations in or near the
tropics, as in the Bolivian and Thibetan plateaus, w ere,
owing to radiation in clear sky and rarefied air, the diffe¬
rence of night and day temperature becomes excessive,
and where the nightly dews perform the office of rain, and
supply its place. - . .
(249.) Elevation above the sea-level exercises a peculiar
influence on all the elements of climate. As we rise
above that level, the temperature sinks at the rate o a
degree for every 350 feet of elevation, and of course the
mean temperature of the year is affected at an elevated
station to that full extent. Thus it happens that in
ascending a mountain from the sea-level to the limit ot
perpetual snow, we pass through the same series of
climates, so far as temperature is concerned, which we
should do by travelling from the same station to the polar
regions of the globe; and in a country where very great
differences of level exist, we find every variety of climate
arranged in zones according to the altitude, and charac¬
terized by the vegetable productions appropriate to their
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
611
Physical habitual temperatures. The amount of rain, too, is rery
greatly dependent on the level of the soil. It increases on
mountain slopes exposed to moist winds, up to a certain
level, different in different geographical districts, and
then diminishes, in virtue of the general law of hygrome-
tric siccity in the upper regions of the atmosphere. At
great elevations, too, the force and direction of winds, and
the amount of cloud, are often very different from what
prevails below. Thus, on the Peak of Teneriffe, the
summer wind is habitually S.W., and the sky almost
always cloudless, while at the foot of the mountain the
N.E. trade prevails, and a dense stratum of cloud covers
all the surrounding ocean. Not only the amount, too, but
the quality of solar radiation is affected. The chemical
rays of the spectrum are powerfully absorbed in passing
through the atmosphere, and the effect of their greater
abundance aloft is shewn in the superior brilliancy of
colour in the flowers of Alpine regions. Nor can the
difference of density in the air itself be devoid of influence
either on plants or animals. Dr Miihry, in a work of
great merit recently published {Klimatologische-Untersu-
chungen, Leipzig, 1858), informs us, for instance, that
among the inhabitants of very elevated regions, pulmonary
phthisis is a disease unknown.
(250.) Distribution of Temperature.—The law of distri¬
bution of heat over the earth’s surface is represented to
the eye by the systems of Isothermal, Isotheral, and Iso-
cheimonal lines described in Meteorology, art. 149, which
severally connect those points of the globe which have
equal mean annual, mean summer, and mean winter tempe¬
ratures ; the important points as regards climates being,
that these several sets of lines are not coincident (except
locally and accidentally), so that, even as regards tempe¬
rature alone, it is rare to find two places that have the
same annual average, and also the same distribution of
heat in the several months. How this may affect climate
will be obvious, if we consider the cases of two places of
the same mean or average temperature, which in the one
is maintained nearly uniform throughout the year, while
in the other a burning summer is compensated by a rigo¬
rous winter.
(251.) If the sea covered the whole earth, or if it were
uniformly occupied by land, there would prevail in all
regions a climate dependent wholly on the latitude of the
place, and on the sun’s declination at different seasons.
What would be the exact mean temperatures, and the
exact annual fluctuations corresponding to each latitude
in either case, it is needless to inquire ; but it is certain
they would be very different in the two cases, by reason
of the different relations of land and water to heat. But
if we take an average of the actual mean temperatures
corresponding to each degree of latitude all round the
globe, we shall obtain a mean law under the actual state
of things which may be called the normal law of mean
temperature, and which is not very inaptly represented by
the formula 410,8-f-39°'7 x cos. (twice latitude) ; and by
attaching to each parallel of latitude a number expressing
the temperature computed from this, there would arise a
system of normal isothermic lines. The actual system, as
may be seen in our plate CLXXIIL, vol. vi., deviates
much from this regularity ; and the manner of this devia¬
tion, which constitutes the first and greatest basis of dis¬
tinction between the heat-climates of the globe, is not a
little remarkable.
(252.) Mr Dovehasconstructedachart, in which places
which have the same excess above, or defect below, the
normal mean temperature, are connected by lines which
he terms Isabnormal lines—the order of the lines corre¬
sponding to the amount of deviation ; and on an inspection
of this chart, three very prominent features are apparent.
ls£, That the lines which limit the regions into which the Physical
globe becomes thus divided, or the lines of normal tem- Geogril>hy-
perature, do not, as would at first sight appear probable
(and as would be the case had the earth no rotation on
its axis), follow meridional directions, but axz systematically
oblique to the equator, being directed from N.W. to S.E.
2d, That they divide the globe into two hot and two cold
regions, in the form of broad belts, whose medial lines
have a generally similar direction, and which, so far from
beingemphatically regions of much land and of much water,
run systematically across the great masses of both. Thus, the
principal hot region includes nearly all Australia , the Indian
Ocean, India, and all south-west Asia and east Africa,
Europe, and the North Atlantic; and the principal cold
one, the western half of South America, the south-west,
equatorial, and north-east Pacific, and all east Asia, from
Cochin-China northwards. The other hot region includes
the S.W. Atlantic, all the eastern side of South America,
and the Caribbean Sea, and (after a small interruption or
suspension) springs over to the other side of the Ameri¬
can continent, to reappear in north-west America and
the North Pacific, while the other cold one takes in
west Africa, the south-east and equatorial Atlantic,
and all the east side of North America. 3<%, That
these regions, so distributed, bear evident reference
both to the situation of the coast-lines of the great
land-masses and to the trade-winds. To make our
meaning clear, we will suppose the globe divided, not by
the true geographical equator, but by the tropic of Cancer
(which may be considered as the medial parallel of the
land, and to which, rather than to the true equator, the
sources of heat-disturbance have reference). Land lying
to the north of this being considered as northern, and to
the south, southern, it appears that, in the northern masses,
the regions in which the temperature is in excess occupy
their western, and in the southern their eastern coasts,
while the reverse rule holds good for those in which it is
deficient. A comparison of this rule with what is above
stated, in reference to the regions themselves, will verify
its enunciation in these terms.
(253.) So stated, the cause is not far to seek, and it is
one of a generality commensurate to that of the observed
facts. Referring to our account of the oceanic currents
as traced in arts. 51-65, we see—That the hot water of
the equatorial currents in all the seas is dashed against
the eastern coasts of southern masses, while the cold supplyr
ing currents from the southern ocean, sweep along the
west sides of those masses ; that, in its northern circula¬
tion, the hot water is carried across the great oceans
north-eastward, to strike on the west sides of the northern
masses, while cold return-currents flow down their east
sides; and that, in its southern circulation, the hot water
is thrown off southwards by the eastern coasts of the
southern masses. The only point which remains unex¬
plained in the view here presented, is a small breach of
continuity in the hot region between the Caribbean Sea
and the north-west coast of North America, where the
two cold regions run together across it over Mexico. It
should also be observed, 1st, That though the immediate
influence of these causes is greatest on the coasts, their
prevalence extends deep into the continents, being propa¬
gated onwards by the winds ; and, 2dly, That the inequa¬
lity now in question is independent of another law more
general still in its enunciation, though of smaller influence,
viz., that the whole northern hemisphere is, on a general
average, 3|0 warmer than the whole southern, as con¬
taining more land to be heated by the sun when north of
the equator.
(254.) Within each of these four great geographical
regions the mean temperature increases or decreases (ac-
612
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical cording to the character of the region) from the borders
geography. towards the middle, and each of them has within it certon
^ ' poles or foci (which may be called poles of relative warmth
and cold), at which the peculiar character of the region is
most conspicuous. The principal, or Europe- ncan
Region, for instance, is separated from the cold region
the” west by a normal line running in an undulating
curve from Baffin’s Bay to the Cape of Good Hope, and
from that, on the east, by one commencing opposite iN ova
Zembla, dividing Europe from Asia almost contermi-
nously as far as the Caspian Sea, and then passing o
south-eastward to the Philippine Islands, and across tie
South Pacific. Within this area the north pole ot relative
warmth occurs almost precisely on the Arctic drcle in
Ion-. 4° east, between Iceland and the Norwegian coast
(full in the sweep of the Gulf-stream drift). At this point
the mean annual temperature fully HO0 above that wine i
would be due to its latitude on the supposition of a normal
climate, and in receding from this point as a focus on al
sides, the excess of mean temperature decreases so as to
mark out a series of ovals, the interior of each of which
is relatively warmer than those outside. Thus, the oval
of 18° excess just grazes the North Cape; that of IZ
takes in the whole coast of Norway and the north of
Scotland; that of 9° the whole of Britain, the French
coast (including Paris), Holland, Denmark, the greater
part of the Baltic, and the Gulfs of Bothnia and Finland
(just excluding Petersburg), up to Archangel; and, lastly,
the oval of 4° excess cuts the coast of Greenland at Cape
Farewell, passes nearly through Madrid and Algiers,
crosses Sicily, Calabria, Hungary, and Russia, and in¬
cludes all the capitals of Europe. In the southern hemi¬
sphere there is no very prominent focus of this kind, but
a point in 30° S. in the meridian of Madagascar, just
where the warm currents of the Indian Ocean unite after
rounding that island on their way to the Cape, offers a
feeble and rudimentary one.
(255.) The east Asiatic cold region has a strongly
marked focus of relative cold at T akutsk, where the
deficiency of annual temperature amounts to —15°, and
round which, in all directions, this deficiency decreases,
over a series of ovals, of which that of — 7° includes the
whole of north-east Siberia, from the mouth of the Jenesei
to that of the Kolyma, and descends south through the
Baikal Lake and Ochotzk into Chinese Tartary. Con¬
tinued south across the Pacific, this region, as above
stated, enters upon the wTest coast of South America. Off
that coast, at 300 or 400 miles south-west of Lima,
in lat. 15° S., long. 82p W., occurs another very well
marked focus of the same character, but less intense, the
deficit of temperature being only 9Q. The oval of —7°
about this focus enters on the South American coast, and
includes Lima, which thus (owing to the refrigerating
power of Humboldt’s current, to which this focus is
clearly referable) enjoys a far cooler climate than its
proximity to the equator would otherwise entail on it. In
the Pacific, in lat. 20° N., long. 225° E., is also the
central point of a small subordinate oval of relative
cold (of about —2°), a feature which we shall have occa¬
sion to notice in another part of our subject.
(256.) The next, which may be called the American
Warm Region, has its northern focus in the Pacific, in
lat. 56° N., long. 141° W., not far from Sitka, in Russian
America. It is far less strongly developed than the At¬
lantic focus of a similar character, its excess of tempe¬
rature being + 9°, and its influence on the continent of
America is very limited, but nevertheless sufficient to
afford the whole coast, from Vancouver’s Island north¬
wards to the Aliaskan peninsula, a climate 7° warmer
than the normal one, an advantage equivalent to that of
a transfer from North Iceland to New Halifax, and which Physical
forms a most important consideration as regards the future
fortunes of the new colonies of Vancouver’s Island and
New Caledonia. In the southern hemisphere we find no
marked indication of a corresponding focus, which is
perhaps owing to a deficiency of the requisite observa¬
tions. Owing, however, to the large portion of this
hemisphere occupied by sea, the warmer areas by no
means stand in so strong a contrast to the colder, as in
the other.
(257.) The last of these regions we have to notice is
the American cold region. It is very strongly marked,
and distinctly so even in its prolongation into the southern
hemisphere. In the northern continent it has a focus of
relative cold in lat. 65° N., long. 96° W., near Wager .
Inlet, at the north-east corner of Hudson’s Bay, whose
intensity (—13°) nearly equals that of the Siberian focus,
and whose influence is very great over the whole north¬
east portion of the continent, affecting Quebec with a
mean deficit of 6^° (equivalent to a transfer from the
south of England “to the Orkneys), and even New York
by one of 4°. In the southern hemisphere there is a
sufficiently well-marked focus of the same character, and
which bears nearly the same relation to the south-east
coast of Africa that the focus off Lima does to South
America, being only rather less intense (— 6°), and not
extending its influence very materially on the continent.
It is, however, precisely on the spot where, from the
indraft of cold water from the southern ocean, we should
expect to find it. . .
(258.) The extreme cold of north-east America is
evidently referable to the delivery of the whole circulating
water of the Arctic Ocean, together with all which is
introduced through Behring’s Straits along its coast, and
through the intricacies of Baffin’s and Hudson’s Bays, and
the channels leading into them, deep into the continent,
and among its outlying appendages. That of Siberia, and
east Asia in general, is not so obvious a result of oceanic
causes. It arises rather from the extension across Asia
of the lofty mountain-chains between the 30th and 40th
parallel, which increase the rigour of winter to the coun¬
tries north of them, by intercepting the south-west anti¬
trade, and obliging it to deposit its moisture on their
summits, thus draining it of its latent heat, which wou t
otherwise be given out to the plains beyond in rain or
Sn<(259.) The deviations of the isotheral and isochei-
monal lines from each other, and from the annual iso¬
thermals, or the exaggerations of the annual fluctuation
of temperature at any place, refer themselves quite as
obviously to a prevalence in its neighbourhood of great
tracts of land or of water, and are, in fact, where not
accounted for by special and local causes, no other than
thermic expressions of its more or less approximation to
a “continental” or “insular” situation. (See Meteor-
ologt, art. 40.) As instances of purely insular climates,
we may take those of the Azores, where the difference of
mean summer and winter temperatures is only 8 ; at
Bermuda, 13°; in the Friendly Isles only 2°; at St
Helena, 9°. As examples of continental ones, we find at
Prague a difference of 29°; at Tiflis, 44°; at Astrachan,
61°; at Orenburg, 63°; and at Yakutsk no.less than
102°, the mean winter temperature there being —40 ,
and the summer+62°. In the interior of North America
we find this difference carried not quite to so great an
extent, but still far beyond what prevails over the whole
of Europe, amounting to 44° at Philadelphia and Wash¬
ington, and to 54° at Fort Snelling, in latitude 44° north,
and longitude 94° west; the winter temperature being
— 14°, and the summer +68°; while at Florence, in the
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
613
Physical same latitude, the corresponding temperatures are 41°
Geography. anf] 74°.
(260.) The difference between land and sea climates
in this respect falls upon the general average of the whole
earth, the northern hemisphere having so great a prepon¬
derance of land. By comparing the results of registers,
in positions adapted for the purpose, Mr Dove has arrived
at the remarkable conclusions that the mean summer
temperature (July) in the whole northern hemisphere is
70o,9, and in the southern (January) 590,5—while the
winter means for the two hemispheres (respectively Janu¬
ary and July) are 480,9 and 53°'6—giving to the whole
earth an average surface temperature of 58°’25, with an
average excess of 8° in July, a kind of general summer,
due to the cause above mentioned, and which would be
even more influential were it not partly counteracted
by the greater proximity of the sun to the earth in
January.
(261.) Mr Dove calculates the mean temperature of the
whole terrestrial equator at 79°'8, and that of the north
pole at +20,2, and the mean summer and winter tempe¬
ratures at the poles at +30o,6 and — 580,6. It hardly
need be observed that the extremes of absolute tempera¬
ture over the globe vary within much wider limits. Sir
C. Napier records a temperature of +132° in the shade
in Scinde in June. A midnight temperature of 108° has
been observed in the Northern Circars of India (Thomson).
On the other hand Dr Kane records --670 in January
and February at Rensellaer Bay (78° 38' N. lat., 71° 41' E.
long). Captain Back, at Fort Reliance, observed —70°,
and Gmelin, at Kiringa, in Siberia, has recorded an ob¬
servation of — 120° (Thomson). The difference of the ex¬
tremes exceeds by 72° the whole range of Fahrenheit's scale
from zero to the boiling point of water.
(262.) The isotherm 32° F. limits the region round the
pole at which (below a few feet from the surface) the
soil may be expected to be found habitually frozen. The
course of this isotherm, as drawn in K. Johnston’s Physical
Atlas, is as follows:—
Longitude.
Degrees.
0
30
60
90
Latitude N.
Degrees.
71*
70
60
51J
Longitude.
Degrees.
120
150
180
210
Latitude N.
Degrees.
49*
53
58
62f
Longitude.
Degrees.
240
270
300
330
Latitude N.
Degrees.
56*
50£
53
64
(263.) The line descends then, in the two continents, to
nearly equal latitudes (50°). The places where this takes
place are at Irkutsk, on the Baikal Lake, and at the southern
extremity of Hudson’s Bay. The latitude is about that of
Cornwall, whose mean temperature is 52°. At Yakutsk
the soil is frozen to a depth of upwards of 630 feet, and
would be so no doubt to a much greater depth, but that
the prevalence of hot springs about that region (Atkinson)
indicates a subterranean source of warmth. Throughout
Russia and Siberia, if we put confidence in the conclu¬
sions of M. Kupffer, there would seem to exist some
internal cause of disturbance in the temperature of the
soil, as distinct from the mean temperature of the air
above it.
(264.) The line of maximum mean temperature, or the
thermic equator, by no means coincides with the true
equator. Over a great part of the Pacific, indeed, and in
Mid-Atlantic, it does so pretty nearly; but in those longi¬
tudes which include the great masses of land, it deviates
northward, crossing South America in about 5° north Physical
latitude; and in the 180 degrees of longitude, which in-Geography,
elude all the eastern world, from the west of Africa to the
east of Australia, it approximates much more nearly to a
great circle, inclined at an angle of 15° to the equator,
and crossing east Africa, Arabia, and the peninsula of
India nearly in that latitude north.
(265.) Distribution of Moisture. — In considering this
branch of our subject, we must distinguish between hygro-
metrical moisture, which exists as vapour in the atmo¬
sphere, and is ready to be deposited in dew at night, and
that which falls in rain or snow. The former is always
present to a considerable extent, at least within a few
hundred feet of the sea-level, and in its average amount
(under that condition) is regulated in great measure by
the mean temperature of the place. To such an extent
is this the case, that, with the exception of four places
(Hobartown, Madrid, Tiflis, and Washington, the three
last of which are obviously exceptional, and influenced by
very special and local causes),1 the mean pressure of
aqueous vapour at all the stations (21 in number) in all
latitudes, set down in the list of carefully determined
ones, at the end of our article Meteorology, will be
found to be represented by the formula—
0-067436 in. x (1-032075)*
(Where t is the mean annual temperature in degrees of
Fahrenheit), within limits hardly exceeding the difference
between the mean results of successive years for each.
It increases rapidly therefore in approaching the equator
from the poles. The relative humidity of the air, however,
or the proportion of its vapour to that of saturation,
on which depends what is commonly called the moisture
or dryness of the air, or its evaporating power, is much less
dependent on local situation ; and, with certain remarkable
exceptions, may be taken, on a general average, as about
0*75, or three-quarters of complete saturation at the mean
temperature.
(266.) The laws which regulate the distribution of rain
(including snow, hail, etc.) over the globe are more com¬
plex, and its amount, both average and occasional, subject
to much greater local deviations from a normal quantity
depending on latitude than either heat or hygrometric
moisture. Generally speaking, the average rain-fall of
the year is greatest at the equator, and diminishes rapidly,
but very far from regularly, in approaching either pole.
The average annual rain-fall over the whole globe has
been roughly estimated at 60 inches, or 5 feet in depth—
between the tropics, 96, and in the temperate zones, 35 ;
that is to say, 37 for the northern hemisphere, and 33 for
the southern. In high latitudes, where unaffected by
abnormal causes, it is much less,—thus we find an average
of only 13 at Uleaborg, and 17 for Petersburg.3 When
we consider, however, that regions of several millions of
square miles in extent exist not far from the tropics, in
which the average of rain is nil, while in others it amounts
to 200, 300, and even 600 inches, we see that it is an
element to baffle all exact calculation, and that all that
can be done is to indicate the sort of local conditions
favourable or unfavourable to a high average.
(267.) The favourable circumstances, besides proximity
to the equator, are, — 1st, and within certain limits,
elevation above the sea-level. Thus we find for the non-
mountainous districts of Europe an average of 23 inches,
and for the mountainous ones 42. The influence of this
condition, however, diminishes beyond a certain height,
1 Philadelphia is normal.
2_ These particulars, as well as many of the data, and much of the general statements which follow, are taken (or concluded) from Mr
Keith Johnston’s excellent synopsis of this subject.—Physical Atlas.
614
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical which is not the same in all countries, varying from 2000
Geography. to 7000 or 8000 feet. Nor is it absolute, but depends muc 1
  on exposure and on the general configuration ot the soil.
Thus an elevated and extensive table-land, like the interi
of Spain, receives less rain than the plains around it, tiie
current of vapour-bearing wind being tossed up into a
higher region after travelling up its slopes, and m so
rising, precipitating its moisture. To give the rise 0
level its full power, a slope increasing in steepness, and
facin'* the moist-wind (whichever that may be), is requisite.
A table-land surrounded by mountain ridges overtopping
it (such as Thibet, Bolivia, and Utah), is necessarily arid.
(268.) 2dly, Exposure on the sea-coast to warm winds
blowing from the sea. These, in the temperate zones,
are the anti-trades. West coasts, then, are rainy in
these zones, in comparison with east. The mean annual
rain on the west coast of England and Scotland is 45
inches, according to Mr Keith Johnston, whi e ie
average for the east coast is only 27*4 inches. is is
among the most prominent and general influences. I
the west coast be a high one, and especially if the sea
adjacent to it be habitually warm, it is carried to a maxi¬
mum. Thus we find along the north-west coast of Ame¬
rica, from Sitka to Vancouver’s Island, and along our
own west coasts and that of Scandinavia, an annua
amount of rain far beyond that which might be expected
from the latitude. The average for Sitka (lat. 58°) and
for Bergen (lat. 60°) are each of them 88 inches, which,
for so high a latitude, is enormous. Now, both these
stations are in close proximity to the northern “ foci of
maximum relative warmth,” which is situated at sea to the
westward in either case (arts. 254, 256). The west coast
of Patagonia is also remarkable for deluges of rain, but
being in the immediate proximity of the principal focus
of maximum relative cold in that hemisphere, the rain¬
fall is chiefly confined to the winter months, whereas in
the northern stations it occurs indifferently at all seasons.
(269.) Between the tropics the rains are periodical, and
closely accompany the progress of the vertical sun. In
India, however, it is the monsoon which blows on the
coast, and not the position of the sun, which determines
the rainy season. This sets in on east coasts with the
north-east monsoon (April to October), and on west with
the south-west (October to February). The region of the
monsoons extends over China, and there it is the north¬
east monsoon (that which blows over the north-west
Pacific) which brings the rains.
(270.) Influences unfavourable to rain are—Isi, Situation
under the lee of high land intercepting the vaporiferous
winds. Exposure on east coasts in the temperate zones,
and on coasts remote from the monsoon in India, is one
form of this condition. It is carried to its extreme when
immense and lofty mountain-chains, rising through half
the atmosphere of air, and much more than half that of
vapour, intercepts the latter in its progress towards them,
and effectually drains the winds of their moisture. In
such cases, when the lee-country is at a comparatively
much lower level, the descending wind, having parted
with its vapour, and acquiring warmth by condensation,
becomes arid and parching. 2c?(y, Exposure to the
indraft of trade-winds coming in from a colder region.
This influence is carried to a maximum when such winds,
to arrive at the place, have to traverse much land and
little sea, the supply of moisture being less. Even in the
open ocean, as we have seen (art. 20), little or no rain
falls within the sweep of the trades. Sdly, Absence of
vegetation in warm climates, and especially of trees.
This is no doubt one of the reasons of the extreme aridity Physical
of the interior of Spain. The hatred of a Spaniard
towards a tree is proverbial. Many districts in France
have been materially injured in respect of climate by
denudation (Earl of Lovelace on Climate, #c.), and, on the
other hand, rain has become more frequent in Egypt since
the more vigorous cultivation of the palm-tree. A sandy
or rocky soil is no less influential in producing aridity.
(271.) Rainless Districts.—Commencing within a small
distance of the coast of Morocco, and including all the
north of Africa (except Tunis and Algeria), Syria, the
northern half of Arabia as far as the 20th degree of lati¬
tude, and almost the whole of Persia, extends a zone of
an average breadth of 900 geographical miles, in which
rain is altogether absent, or of very unusual occurrence.
With a narrow interruption, where the chain of the
Himalaya passes into that of the Hindu Kho, and which
includes Afghanistan and the Upper Punjab, this zone is
prolonged north-east through Thibet, Upper Tartary, and
into Mongolia, expanding somewhat in breadth, under the
name of the Deserts of Gobi and Shamo. (In Africa it is
known as the Sahara, and extends southward, when
widest, nearly to the 15th parallel.) It is thus broken
into two great rainless districts, the one comprising about
three millions, and the other nearly two millions1 of square
miles, which exist as such under widely different condi¬
tions, both geographical and meteorological, the separation
between them being strongly indicative of this diversity
(272.) Deserts of Gobi and Shamo.—The aridity of this
region is of very easy explanation. It unites in perfection
all the conditions of dryness. It is fully within the sweep
of the north-east winds drawing in from Siberia towards
the sun, when vertical over the burning plains of Hindostan,
with an immense region of land to windward. It is sandy
or rocky, and treeless; and it is completely cut off from
receiving any rain from the anti-trades in the winter half
of the year by the barrier of the Himalaya.
(273.) Deserts of Africa, Arabia, Syria, and Persia.—I.
During the months when the sun is north of the equator,
the whole of the region occupied by these deserts is
within the sweep of the N. E. trades, which, it will be
borne in mind, extend over continents to a far wider
range from the equator than at sea; both because the
medial line of heat follows the sun more closely, and
therefore oscillates within wider limits of latitude ; and
because the heat itself on and adjoining to that medial
line is greater. These winds, in arriving at Arabia, S)ria,
and Persia, have travelled almost entirely over land.
Those which arrive in Africa, it is true, have traversed
the Mediterranean; but this is a narrow sea; and we
have already seen that even the ocean cannot supply
vapour enough to saturate the continually-increasing thirst
of these winds. II. WFen the sun is south of the equator
these regions lie within the district of the anti-trades, and
being under no intercepting influence, might be expected to
receive rain. But the winds can only deliver what they have
taken up and not re-deposited. Now, if we trace (as in the
annexed figure) the course of any parcel of air arriving
from any part of the dry region at the medial line of heat
(indicated at its greatest southern limit by the dotted
line) as a surface or trade-wind (following, that is, a
parabolic or hyperbolic curve having its vertex on the
equator), indicated by t and returning as an upper cur¬
rent along the same track reversed 11 until it shall return
to the surface as an anti-trade, we shall find it to lie
wholly, or almost wholly, over intertropical land, and that
land hot and dry, for its moisture has been continually
1 By a rough measurement, as laid down in K. Johnston’s Physical Atlas (allowing for the projections). As usually stated, the areas
are much less. Humboldt made the Desert of Gobi, with Thibet, only 549,001) square miles.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 615
Physical swept upwards towards the hottest line in the southward pro-
Geography. gress of that line, and continually discharged upon it in
torrential rains, much more copious, and therefore more
exhausting, than the equatorial rains at sea, by reason of
the greater elevation attained under the influence of more
intense heat. The consideration of the figure will suffi¬
ciently explain any point left unsaid. The reader will
observe that we decline adopting the doctrine recently
propounded of a systematic crossing of the south-east and
north-east trades at the medial line. In so doing we are
no way disturbed by the phenomenon of infusorial dust of
South American origin which occasionally falls on the
north-east of Africa. Such dust might be taken up by
winds tracing in inter-tropical South America precisely
the same parabolic courses as these in Africa, and carried
in their return northward as an upper current across the
Atlantic. A good portion of “ South America” too—all
the sultry Llanos of the Orinoco, in which much infusorial
dust, the dried residuum of the inundations, might be
produced and whirled aloft, lies north of the equator.
(274.) The west coast of Peru and Bolivia, as far as
the 30th parallel, is rainless, as is also very nearly so
the plateau of Mexico and the west coast of Guatemala.
These lie within the region of the trades, and though these
sweep over sea as regards Mexico, any rains they may
bring are discharged on the eastern slopes of the moun¬
tains which receive them. A similar cause, reversed in
the direction of its influence, deprives the eastern side of
extra-tropical South America of rain, which the Patago¬
nian Andes almost completely intercept, as brought from
the Pacific by the north-west anti-trades. California,
Utah, and the countries under the lee of the Chippewyan
mountains, are, in like manner, hindered of their due supply
from the south-west anti-trades, which is discharged on
the western slopes of the coast ranges.
(275.) South Africa, though arid, yet as it receives
both the trades and the anti-trades from over wide
oceans, is not condemned to that extreme of siccity which
characterizes its northern region. The west coast receives
a great deal of rain from winds sweeping over the warm
water of the Mozambique current, drawn inland by the
proximity of the heated interior of the continent, and
discharging their moisture on the coast ranges of Zanzi- Physical
bar and Mozambique. Geography
(276.) Snow never falls at the sea-level between the
tropics. Canton, just on the northern tropic, has been
occasionally astonished by a snow fall. In the southern
hemisphere the limit is more remote from the equator—
Sydney (lat. 36° S.) and the southern parts of the Cape
Colony, as far as the 32d parallel, lie within its occasional
range.1 In the north Atlantic it hardly attains so low as
45° of latitude.
(277.) The transition from an inter- to an extra-tropical
climate, as regards the fall of rain, is characterized by a
very marked change in the season of the rains. In the
former, as we have seen, torrential rains accompany the
sun in its appi'oach to the zenith. In the latter, on the
contrary, the regions adjacent to the tropics are visited
exclusively, or chiefly, by rain in the winter months.
The reason is obvious. In the former case the rains are
those which fall on the first elevation of the vapours into
the higher region of the atmosphere, and therefore occur
vertically, or nearly so, over the place where that happens.
In the latter, they are the first rains given out by the residual
vapour on the descent of the upper current to the surface as an
anti-trade wind, and are, so, periodical in another sense,
owing to the fluctuation of the limit between the trades
and anti-trades. In open ocean, under the equator, or
rather from 4° to 9° north, there is a zone in which it
rains heavily, and almost daily, in the afternoon hours,
the rains being accompanied with frequent and violent
electric discharges, while the nights are serene and cloud¬
less. In the higher atmosphere, between the levels of
the upper and under current, occurs a calm stratum,
which, over the sea, is almost always uniformly and
densely clouded.
(278.) Distribution of Thunder-Storms, Hurricanes, and
Earthquakes.—The explanation of these phenomena, as
physical facts, belongs to the departments of Meteor¬
ology and Geology as bodies of science. Their dis¬
tribution and greater or less intensity and frequency in
different regions of the earth, with reference to the local
conditions and peculiarities on which these depend, how¬
ever, form part of our present subject. As electricity is
accumulated during the evaporation, and discharged in
lightning during the rapid and copious condensation of
moisture, we should expect to find thunder-storms most
frequent in those regions where, owing to any general or
special cause, the condensation of vapour is frequent and
sudden, and least so where moisture is most copiously
and continually abstracted from the surface by evapora¬
tion, with but little return in rain. And such is the
case, for it is observed that in those parts of the ocean
over which the trade-winds sweep, thunder-storms are
very unfrequent, while in the zone of the equatorial rains,
from 4° to 9° north latitude, where the first and most
copious discharge of the up-cast vapour takes place, and
where the clouds form rapidly, and hurry to their resolu¬
tion at regular hours of the day in rain, electric dis¬
charges are exceedingly frequent and violent. So also
the setting in of the rainy monsoon, in the monsoon
countries, is ushered in with violent thunder-storms, and
so in certain localities, where, during certain seasons, and
at regular hours of the day, clouds collect and rain falls
copiously (as in the mountainous parts of Jamaica, and in
certain valleys leading off from the Lake of Como in
Italy), thunder-storms occur daily, during the hottest
season.
(279.) In the Polar regions, both arctic and antarctic,
thunder-storms are gf very rare occurrence, a sufficiently
1 On the continent of America it has been known to fall at Buenos Ayres (33° S.)—Ed. Phil. Trans, vi. 387.
616
Physical
Geography.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
copious supply and sudden condensation of vapour being
wanting. M. Geisecke, who resided six years ^ Green¬
land, only heard thunder once (Mrs Somerville). 1 hunder-
storms, too, are unknown in the rainless districts ot i eru
and in California (Gibson), under the lee of the coast-
ranges of mountains, which, at the same time that they
condense the clouds, attract and carry off the atmospheric
electricity. Generally speaking, they are more frequen
on mountains than on plains. About forty per annum
are reckoned to occur in Greece and Italy, and abou
twenty-four on the coasts of the Atlantic and in Germany
(Mrs Somerville). In the United States they are more
frequent and fatal than in Europe. .
(280.) Violent gales of wind, amounting to what may
be called hurricanes, occur pretty generally everywhere
except on the equatorial seas; but in the Steppes, in the
interior of Asia, and in the Siberian plains, at the toot o
the Altai, as well as among those and the Tangnou moun¬
tains, as described by Mr Atkinson, they appear to be
singularly frequent and furious. The true hurricane,
cyclone, or typhoon, however, is restricted to very special
regions, and its production (as explained in Meteorology)
is the result of conditions requiring the ascent of locally^
heated columns of air or vapour, with a free in-draft from
all sides. Accordingly, they are limited at sea to those
situations where (under the necessary conditions as to
latitude) currents of heated water exist.. Where (as in
the Gulf Stream) the current is limited in breadth by a
well-defined boundary, within which the water is \ery
much warmer than the sea on either side, they follow,
with what may well be called considerable precision, the
general course of the current. In the Indian and China
seas they appear in the neighbourhood of the warm cur¬
rents, but these currents being much more diffuse and ill-
defined than in the case of the Gulf Stream, the region
over which they prevail is correspondingly ill-defined ;
and in the China Sea this is still more markedly the case,
though bearing a very obvious relation to the warm-water
currents skirting the east coasts of Asia.
(281.) Earthquakes, of course, habitually infest coun¬
tries adjacent to active volcanoes — such as Sicily and
Calabria in Europe, and the neighbourhood of the Andes
in South America, where they are stated by Humboldt to
he so frequent, that their occurrence, unless severe, is no
more regarded than that of a shower in Europe. Java,
Sumatra, Japan, and the islands of the Eastern Archipe¬
lago, are also exceedingly subject to such visitations.
But, besides these, there are districts which, for geological
regions less apparent, being out of the vicinity of any
active volcanic vent, are infested with frequent earth¬
quakes. They may, however, be for the most part traced
for an origin to mountain chains in which either unequi¬
vocal evidence of long extinct, and therefore possibly
still dormant, volcanic power, can be adduced, or which
stand out as grand original axes of upheaval. Thus the
whole of Upper India, and a large portion of Western
India, from the Himalaya to the mouths of the Indus, is
very liable to earthquakes, evidently referable to the
Himalayan range as an axis of emanation, and proving
clearly that the forces which originally upheaved those
mountain masses, are still active, though their energy
may perhaps be expended in maintaining them at their
present elevation. Between 1800 and 1842, no less than
162 earthquakes have been recorded in these districts
(K. Johnston). In 1843, 23 were observed, and since
that time 4 or 5 annually. In the peninsula of India
they seldom occur below 15° N. latitude.
(282.) Traceable to the neighbourhood of volcanoes
not quite extinct, or which, within historic times, have
shewn signs of activity, we find Greece, Turkey, Asia
Minor, Syria, and Palestine, with the district adjacent to Physical
Elbruz and the Caspian Sea and the Caucasus. Antioch LTeography.
was the centre of one of the most terrible and destructive
earthquakes on record in a.d. 526, and Syria was visited
no longer ago than 1837 with an earthquake extending
over 4000 or 5000 square miles of country.
(283.) The south-eastern districts of North America,
along the ranges of the Appalachian and Alleghany Moun¬
tains, are liable to frequent earthquakes. More than a
hundred have been noticed in the last two centuries (Keith
Johnston), which, to judge from the direction habitually
taken by their oscillatory motion (from S.E. to N.W.),
would seem to owe their origin to some deep-seated
centre of action beneath the line of the great Mexican
volcanoes. By one of the more recent of these, the whole
valley of the Lower Mississippi was violently agitated, and
its levels permanently altered. Lastly, quite beyond all
reference to any reasonably distant source of volcanic
power, we find a district of very limited extent in the
county of Perth, near Comrie, in Scotland, where a year
seldom passes without a shock, though never severe
enough to do any material damage. In the Cape districts
of South Africa, too, still more remote from any such
centre of action, slight shocks are far from unfrequent.
Generally speaking, what may be called the earthquake
belt of Europe is conterminous, or nearly so, with the
zone of newer igneous formation and extinct volcanoes,
described in art. 127.
(284.) On the other hand, vast regions, chiefly exten¬
sive alluvial plains, or the low districts which extend out
to great distances from the principal mountain chains,
enjoy an immunity from earthquake shocks, as, for
instance, America east of the Andes, and the great plains
on the north-east of Europe and the north of Asia. Where
historical evidence is deficient, we have often proof, from
the continued upright position of ancient monuments, both
natural and artificial, of the absence of at least any great
earthquake since their creation, or since their attaining
their present form, and that, too, in situations where such
complete exemption could hardly have been expected.
Thus in Mexico, on the Mimbre Kiver, near El Paso on
the Rio Grande, we find described and figured by Bartlett
{Personal Narrative, &c), rocks, as in the annexed cut,
Tig. 2.
which could not possibly have resisted even a very incon¬
siderable shock. On the west coast of Greenland (much
of which is of volcanic origin) the same conclusion may
be drawn from the existence of a remarkable slender
pillar of rock 200 feet in height, figured by Dr Kane
under the name of Tennyson’s Monument. An ancient
column in the country bordering on the Indus, said to
have been erected by Alexander the Great as the land¬
mark of his Indian conquests, has been in like manner
appealed to in favour of an exceptional degree of stability
in its site in a region generally much subject to agitation.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical Pompey’s Pillar affords similar evidence for Egypt during
Geography. the last
eighteen centuries, though its prostrate obelisks
testify no less distinctly to earlier concussions. The
Pierre Botte, in the isle of Mauritius, offers a similar
testimony. From the immense weight and singularly
slender support of the block on its summit (perched on a
pillar of rock 1500 feet above the sea), it must have been
precipitated by a very moderate shock given to its base.
(285.) Terrestrial Magnetism.—This branch of terrestrial
physics is treated in considerable detail in the article on
Magnetism, in a former volume of this work, in connexion
with the general subject of that science. We shall here
therefore, confine ourselves to a very general coup d’oeil
of the subject, and to the exposition of the chief outlines of,
those facts which regard the distribution of magnetism over
the globe, and which are rather of a geographical than a
physical nature. In so doing we will suppose the reader to
have before him a chart of the world on the Mercator
projection, with two polar charts of the arctic and antarctic
regions.
(286.) The magnetic elements which observation fur¬
nishes are—ls£, The horizontal direction of the needle, or
its “ declination” east or west from that of the astrono¬
mical meridian of the place of observation, which may be
regarded as + or — ; the zero corresponding to the
absence of any such deviation. 2dly, Its dip, or the “ in¬
clination ” to the horizon, when suspended by its centre of
gravity, and allowed freely to take its own position. When
the north end of the needle points downwards, the inclina¬
tion may be regarded as +, when it rests horizontal as 0,
and when pointing upwards, as—. 2>dly, The intensity of
the horizontal component of the total directive power of
the earth on it; and Mhly, That of the vertical component
of the same total power. By the relation subsisting
between these forces and the geometrical elements above
mentioned, any three of them being given, the other may
be found, and, moreover, the “ total intensity,” or the abso¬
lute directive power of the earth on the needle, from whose
vertical and horizontal resolution the two forces originate.
The declination, the inclination, and the total intensity, or
simply the intensity, are the three primary features which
the magnetist regards, whose amount and character in
all regions of the' globe magnetic charts are constructed
to exhibit to the eye, on the same principle as the
exhibition of the distribution of heat by a series of
isothermic lines. If all the places in which each of these
primary elements holds one and the same value be con¬
nected on a chart of the world by its appropriate curve,
and if a series of such curves be laid down, in which that
value is varied by successive steps of 5°, or 10° + and
— from 0° for the angular elements, and by successive
lOths or 20ths of the maximum intensity, or of any arbi¬
trary and convenient unit of directive force, we obtain
charts respectively of the “ Isogonal,” “ Isoclinal,” and
<{ Isodynamic” magnetic lines as they stand related to the
configuration of the land and water of the globe, and to its
meridians and parallels. The several elements themselves,
it should be observed, are attainable by observation, even at
sea, with a precision truly marvellous, and little short of that
attained by astronomical observation. General Sabine,
who has bestowed infinite pains on the collation and dis¬
cussion of all the recorded observations of voyagers,
travellers, and those specially instituted in “Magnetic
Surveys,” has constructed such charts for the epoch of
1840, which form part of the Physical Atlas of Mr Keith
Johnston, from which, and from the introduction to vol.
iii. of the Toronto Observations, the following particulars
are mainly collected :—
(287.) The globe is divided into two magnetic hemi¬
spheres, a northern and southern, in the one of which the
VOL. XVII.
617
needle dips northwards, or the inclination is +, and in the Physical
other the reverse. The line dividing these is not precisely Geography.
a great circle of the globe, but does not deviate very widely
from one. It is not coincident, however, with the earth’s
true terrestrial equator, but inclined to it at an angle of
12°, having its nodes or points of intersection with it, the
ascending in longitude 3° +, and the descending in 187° +
east of Greenwich. Its principal deviation from a great
circle consists in a rather abrupt abnormal excursion from
its general course southwards, where it crosses the east
coast of South America and runs into the Atlantic.
(288.) Along the whole of this “line of no dip,” which
is sometimes called the “ magnetic equator,” the needle,
of course, rests horizontally. Receding from it on either
side, the dip increases gradually (and, on the whole, not
very irregularly in low magnetic latitudes) from 0° up
to 90°, which it attains at two points, and two points only,
which are very commonly designated as the North and
South Magnetic Poles. These points have been attained,
the northern pretty accurately, the southern nearly, by
Sir J. C. Ross in his memorable arctic and antarctic
voyages of exploration. The former lies in lat. 70° N.,
long. 263° E.; the latter in lat. 75° S., long. 154° E.
They are, therefore, not diametrically opposite to each
other, nor either of them coincident with the geometrical
pole of the magnetic equator ; and hence arises a want of
symmetry in the isoclinal curves, which, however, follow,
with some approach to fidelity, a parallel course on both
sides to the magnetic equator.
(289.) The globe is also divided into two ideal magne¬
tic hemispheres, by a medial line, or equator of minimum
intensity; and these hemispheres are, upon the whole, pretty
nearly conterminous with those of north and south dip,
the medial line being here also not very widely different
from a great circle, 12° or 14° inclined to the true equa¬
tor, and intersecting it in two points, 180° distant in lon¬
gitude, viz., 32° + and 212° + east, for the ascending and
descending nodes respectively. And it deserves remark,
that in this also the chief abnormal deviation from the
general course of the great circle is of the same character,
and occurs nearly at the same place, as in the other equa¬
tor, about the middle of the Atlantic. The intensity is,
however, not exactly equal in every part of this line,
though always less in it than in any part of the adjacent
region north or south of it. The point of absolutely least
magnetic intensity on the globe is situate in the mid-At¬
lantic, somewhere about the parallel of the tropic of
Capricorn, its exact position being, from the nature of the
case, very difficult to define. The system of isodynamic
lines is more complex than that of the isoclinal, and the
simplest conception which can be formed of them is, to
regard them as the level lines of an ideal model surface, of
which the elevations above the sea-level are proportional
in every place to the intensity at that place. So defined,
this surface will have a channel or valley running round
the whole course of the magnetic equator, from which it
will ascend on either side, so as to form two great moun¬
tain-like protuberances, each occupying one hemisphere.
The least magnetic intensity anywhere observed being
0’9 parts of an arbitrary scale, on which the greatest is
2#05, if we suppose the lowest point of the equatorial
depression to be 900 feet above the sea-level, the highest
culminating point of the whole surface will be 2050.
This point is ascertained by the observations of Ross to
be situated nearly on the antarctic circle, at aftout 130°
long. E., in Adelie Island. Besides this, the course of the
level lines indicates the existence of a second culminating
point or pole of maximum intensity, at a still higher
southern latitude, and somewhere about the 240th degree
of longitude, but which has not yet been approached near
618
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical enough to define its exact, situation In the northern
Geography, hemisphere are also two similar culm ^ V
  maxima, the one in Siberia, rising to 1750, neaiiy at tne
point where the river Lena crosses the -cti^le about
die 120th degree of longitude and the other t° 1850
runs a line of depression, following nearly the course of t
meridian, passing through Behring’s ^'^’^ Sn^ oul
the Pacific on one side of the globe, and p «
of the Arctic Sea by Spitzbergen, and down the Atla
''HAVoTLastly, the globe is again divided (though less
definitely) into^two Magnetic hemispheres or - ^ two
very unequal compartments, an eastern and a western, y
the of no declination. This line (which necessarily p^ses
hrough both the poles) appears or, a Mercators <4a,
(in which the poles cannot be represented), as two distinct
lines which, were it a meridian, would be at nght angles
to the equator, and entering it at 180° difference of Ion-
citude. ^ Such, however, is not the case; neglecting sim
fities it assumes the aspect of two oblique lines running
fromN.W. to S.E., at angles of about 70° with the equa¬
tor, and dividing it into two unequal arcs of lougdudeat
the 100th and 310th degrees east in the Indian Ocean,
south-west of Sumatra, and at the mouth of the Amazon
river Of the compartments so defined, the smallei,
which may be termed the western, inasmuch as in every
part of it the needle deviates westward from the meridian,
includes the north-eastern corners of both North and South
America, the whole of the Atlantic, all Europe and Africa,
nearly the whole Indian Ocean, and the west of Australia.
The other includes, with one exception, all the rest ot the
world, but that exception is a very remarkable one. In¬
sulated in the midst of its north-western portion, occurs
an oval space of an elliptic form, its longer axis following
the meridian of 133S E. and its shorter the parallel of 50
N., extending over a large portion of Eastern Siberia
(including Yakutsk), half the Sea of Ochotsk, the Sea and
Isles of Japan, the Yellow Sea, and the North of China,
within which the declination is westerly, and in its central
portions exceeds 6° W. This oval is part and parcel
of a medial belt of relatively smaller easterly declination
which may be traced along the whole course of the easterly
compartment, and which leads directly across that small
equatorial oval of relative cold, spoken of in. art. 255,
the line of junction holding a similar inclination to the
equator, and pointing, with the other features of this sys*
tern, strongly to an analogy between it and the system of
lines marking out the regions of relative warmth and cold
tli6r6 described#
(291.) In middle latitudes of the northern hemisphere,
when the sun is east of the meridian during the forenoon,
the needle points more eastward than on the average
of the twenty-four hours; when west also during the
afternoon, more to the westward. These movements are
reversed at stations in the southern hemisphere.. The
fluctuation so arising is called the solar diurnal variation,
and its average over the year the mean solar diurnal va¬
riation. There exists, then, aline which may be regarded
as a magnetic equator of a third kind, in which the mean
solar diurnal variation is nil. This line is supposed to be
not very different from the line of minimum intensity. But in
addition to these diurnal periodicities, there is an annual
one depending on the sun’s declination. When the sun is
north of the equator, the diurnal variation, as above
described, at stations north of the magnetic equator is
exaggerated, at southern ones palliated, and vice versa;
and in consequence of this it happens, that at stations on
this third magnetic equator, although the mean diurnal
variation on an average of the whole year « yet,^^
during one-half of the year a diurnal variation, having a
northerly character, exists, and during the other half a
SOU/292 )^ Besides these regular fluctuations of magnetic
action, others of a very singular character exist, to which
the name of “Magnetic Storms,” or “irregular disturb¬
ances” of the three elements, has been given. They are
in the nature of sudden and extensive deviations of the
needle from its normal position and force. They occur
quite unexpectedly (subject to a condition presently to
be mentioned) and simultaneously over very extensive
regions, and even, in some instances, over the whole
earth ; so simultaneously, indeed, that differences of longi¬
tude may, in particular instances, be ascertained by then
means Their cause is unknown, but is presumed to be
connected with electric discharges, restoring the equili¬
brium of electric tension, somehow disturbed. Utterly
irregular as these magnetic shocks are as to their particular
moments of occurrence, and as to their degree of intensity,
they yet, taken in their totality, and on a great average,
obey the law of solar diurnal periodicity, but with the
singular peculiarity of having, at each station epochal
hours peculiar to that station, and not identical with the
regular epochal hours. , ,, „ x ...
(293 ) By far the most remarkable feature in the mag¬
netic system of the globe, as expressed by their several
systems of allineation, is its state of secular change, by
which all the isogonal lines are sweeping westward in the
northern hemisphere, and eastward in the southern. From
this it happens, as a necessary consequence, lhat their forms
are in a constant state of change, and from this, too, we
mav learn to receive with much suspicion any general
theories as to the dependence of directions of mountain
chains and mineral veins, on the direction of the magnetic
forces in action, seeing that if the present rate of variation
should continue, or have continued uniform for a few
centuries (to say nothing of great geological periods), the
magnetic state of the globe must have been m foimer
ages, and will be in future ones, quite different from the
Pre(294.) It appears to be placed beyond a doubt that the
moon acts directly as a magnet on the earth s magnetism,
the latter producing periodical fluctuations of extreme y
small amount, and which belong rather to the depai t-
ment of Cosmical Physics than to that with which we are
here concerned. . . 
(295.) Distribution of Mineral Products. The numbe
of chemical elements which go to constitute the total mass
of our planet, so far as at present known, amounts to
about 60, and every year is adding to their number, an
to that of the already innumerable compounds which they
form with each other. They are distributed, however, in
such extremely unequal proportions throughout nature,
and there are so many of them which, so far as we
at present see, play quite a subordinate part in. the
general economy of the world and in useful app ica ions,
that when we come to confine our regards to those ot
primary importance, we find the list much nan owe .
(296.) The elementary substances which occur among
the materials of the accessible crust of the globe in such
abundance as to constitute appretiable aliquot ot lt&
total amount, are—I. Gaseous. (1.) Oxygen.—This con¬
stitutes one-fifth of the atmosphere, eight-ninths ot the
sea, half the siliceous and calcareous, and more than halt
the aluminous rocks and soils, besides entering as a large
element into almost every other mineral substance, so that
it cannot be reckoned as constituting less than half the
ponderable matter of the globe. (2.) Hydrogen ; which
forms one-ninth of the ocean, and of all that water which
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
619
Physical enters into the essential composition of a great many
minerals, and the whole hygrometric contents of the atmo¬
sphere and of the soil. It enters also largely into the
composition of coal, combined with carbon. (3.) Chlorine,
as an element of sea salt, and, with this exception, occurring
only very sparingly. (4.) Nitrogen, constituting four-
fifths of the atmosphere, and otherwise very sparingly
disseminated, existing chiefly as a constituent of the
nitrates of potash, soda, and lime, which occur in some
abundance, disseminated through the soil in India, Persia,
and the deserts of Arabia and Africa, efflorescing in caves
in America. The nitrate of soda forms strata of consider¬
able thickness in Peru and Chili, on the western slope of
the Andes.
(297.) II. Solid. The oxides of silicon, aluminium, and
calcium, with that of carbon in the state of carbonic acid
in the limestones, and of iron as an ingredient of almost
universal intrusion into every other substance, constitute
an overwhelming majority of the solid materials of the
earth. After these probably may be placed those of
potassium and sodium in the state' of alkalis, forming a
very notable portion of the granitic masses (as felspar and
albite), and entering into the composition of a great many
other bodies, especially (soda at least) into rock salt and
sea water. Magnesia, too, as a characteristic element of
the rocks of the serpentine character, and entering very
influentially into dolomite and into many limestones,
is entitled to rank among the more prominent ingredients
of the land, though the sea is the source from which,
exclusively, it is procured for human use. Carbon occurs
as a primary and principal ingredient only in the anthra¬
cite and coal formations. The other chemical elements
occur only occasionally and locally in any abundance, in
veins, mines, and quarries, or disseminated in crystals
and nodules in rocks, or as subordinate elements of com¬
position in some or other of the more abundant rocks, or
scattered through nature by their disintegration and dis¬
persion.
(298.) The crystalline rocks have no doubt been the
origin from which (ultimately) the stratified ones have been
derived. From their destruction, partly mechanical,
partly chemical, have been produced, by water-washing
and graduated subsidence, siliceous and argillaceous strata
—the former essentially consisting of the quartz and other
hard and unattackable crystalline ingredients, which the
action of the waves has been able only coarsely to pul¬
verize, and which have, therefore, been deposited near the
shore ; the lattei’, of the aluminous portion chiefly set free,
in a chemically divided or flocculent state, by the decom¬
position of the other ingredients, such as felspar, and of
the infinitesimally thin and filmy micaceous scales set
loose and floated away to remoter places of quiet deposit,
fhus have originated the two great families of the secon¬
dary and tertiary rocks; the siliceous and argillaceous,
however, hardened and recompacted by subterranean heat
and pressure. The third, or calcareous and cretaceous
family, it can hardly be doubted, have arisen—1st, From
‘he labours of the animalcule and mollusc ; 2dly, From the
submarine effusion of calcareous springs (Lyell); and 3dly,
*’1,0111 the degradation of calcareous mountain masses,
themselves the successors and representatives of former
ones, but which have yet, in all probability, undergone the
solvent action of sea-water, preparatory to their re-aggre¬
gation by the agency of organic chemistry.
(299.) We may consider the mineral products of the
earth, in relation to human use, under the general heads of
materials for our structures, for our tools and utensils, for
objects of ornament and luxury, and for medical use, and
domesticand manufacturing consumption. Thefirstof these
Avisions need not detain us long. Wherever rocky masses
occur capable of being quarried and shaped into blocks of Physical
sufficient coherence to resist the weather (and there are Geography,
few strata which, in some part or other of their extent, do
not furnish such), building materials are not wanting.
For vast and massive structures intended for indefinite
duration, and in which delicacy of finish is of less import¬
ance than resistance to weather or to violence, granite is
admirably adapted; not, however, all equally so. Such
granites as contain potash-felspar in great abundance
are attacked and corroded by the carbonic acid of the air,
assisted by rain and frost. The syenitic granites, or
porphyries (of which, as examples, the Egyptian obelisks
consist), and those granites in which felspar is replaced
by albite (soda-felspar) are far less liable to such disinte¬
gration. That of the Aberdeen quarries, of which most
of the great granite structures of London consist, is of this
description. As a material for the greatest structures,
granite presents the advantage that masses of any magni¬
tude can be procured of perfect continuity. These are
detached from their beds by primitive but very ingenious
contrivances, which must have been known and practised
from the earliest times. In some cases grooves are
chiselled in the rocky mass, and holes cut at brief inter¬
vals along them, into which wedges of baked wood are
driven. These, when moistened, swell, and by their
simultaneous expansion determine a fissure along the
direction of the groove. In erecting an obelisk at Serin-
gapatam, a block 70 feet long was separated from its bed
by native workmen, by cutting a deep groove, along which
was maintained a line of fires. When the rock had
become sufficiently heated, water was poured along, the
fires extinguished, and a crack determined along the
groove.
(300.) Few but the vastest and most important struc¬
tures are of granite. Its hardness, and the expense of
working it to a smooth surface, prevent its general use
as a building material. It is chiefly among the calcareous
rocks, the marbles, the oolites, the nummulite limestones,
and the harder portions of the chalk formation, as also
among the close-grained sandstones, which admit of being
easily quarried and sawed into shape, that the architect
finds his best resource. Many of the grandest monu¬
ments in ancient Home are constructed of the Traven-
tine, a calcareous deposit [from the numerous carbonated
sources which occur in abundance along the base of the
Apennines, at Yolterra in Tuscany, at Terni, and over
great districts in the immediate neighbourhood of Rome,
and which is seen in process of formation to the present
day, by the concretion of mosses, and other small aquatic
vegetation percolated by water saturated with super-car¬
bonate of lime. Marbles, adapted for architectural pur¬
poses, are of pretty common occurrence, but those fitted
for the sculptor’s use are exceedingly rare. The finest
are those which have furnished, from the quarries of Pente-
licus, near Athens, the material of the Parthenon, and
those of Mount Marpesus in the Isle of Paros, whence
have been derived those masses on which the genius of
the Greek sculptors has stamped the impress of immorta¬
lity, and which, in the Arundel marbles, yet preserve the
recorded chronology of that wonderful nation. The finer
grain and snowy purity of the marble from the quarries
of Carrara, on the Gulf of Genoa, makes it even still more
prized. An excellent marble for the more costly archi¬
tectural purposes, though less so for sculpture (being defi¬
cient in whiteness), is obtained in abundance from the Pic
de Gerx, in the French Pyrenees.
(301.) The wide dissemination of the calcareous forma¬
tions is of the last importance in an architectural point of
view, from their furnishing the chief and most indispensable
material of cement. Where lime is wanting, oyster and
620
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical other sea-shells near the sea-coast may oiler an excellent
Geography, substitute ; but its absence in the interior of a continent is
an evil of no small magnitude. Much of the Cape Colony
is seriously inconvenienced by it. As a chemical agent,
too, and as an agricultural application, it is oi immense
importance, though when magnesia occurs as an ingre¬
dient in limestone, it acts as a poison on vegetation ; and
laro-e tracts of country in which this is the case, in the inte¬
rior of France, in the north of England, in the neighbour¬
hood of Naples, and elsewhere, are doomed to hopeless
sterility from this cause.
(302.) Among the argillaceous rocks, the slaty ones
claim attention, by reason of their fissile structure an
great resistance to weathering, which renders them pecu¬
liarly adapted to roofing, and to a variety of other pur¬
poses. It is very remarkable that the “ slaty cleavage
is never coincident with, but always highly incline
planes of stratification. This Messrs lyndall an 001 y
have explained, we think, to a certain extent satisfactorily,
by referring it to the effect of lateral pressure determin-
ingthe parallel direction among innumerable disseminated
infinitesimal films of mica ; but they have not shown how
such pressure originated, or why it is always lateral.
Perhaps we may be pardoned for interrupting the matter
immediately in hand by a few words on this point. t is
well known to geologists that the slaty rocks are subject
to very singular and extravagant contortions, the layers
being often folded and refolded on each other like the folds
of linen. This is generally ascribed to the effect of violent
intrusion of other rocks by the action of upheaving forces,
acting on matter softened by heat, or only partially con¬
solidated. A less violent origin of the phenomenon ^ee™s
to us not improbable. The aluminous strata have pi obab y
been deposited in a much more minute state of subdivi¬
sion, and of a more slimy consistency than the siliceous.
Suppose such a deposit to take place in an ocean-basin,
with sides inclining generally inwards, and having irre¬
gularities in them uniformly over the whole, till the irre¬
gularities are filled in, and the bottom reduceci to a, gene¬
rally speaking, basin-like concavity. Up to a certain point,
the friction of the bed will retain the deposited matter on
the slope, and in this way strata nearly uniform and
parallel will be formed. But as the thickness of the whole
increases, the weight will overcome the friction, and the
still soft strata will yield inwards on all sides towards
the central portion of the basin, increasing the thickness
there, and at the same time crumpling the strata into con¬
tortions where they slide over the irregularities, and con¬
gregate towards iocai centres of depression, while yet
the^iddle thickness increases, and that of each stratum
individually (if the process go on slowly and tranquilly),
by a general lateral compression and vertical dilatation
of the whole central mass (however crumpled): which is
all that the compression theory requires to account for the
existence and direction of the cleavage in question. It
seems by no means impossible, indeed, that instead of
requiring the motive power of the volcano and the earth¬
quake to wrinkle and contort the strata in the manner
observed, such wrinklings and contortions (or rather the
slippages to which they are here attributed, when sudden),
may, by displacing the incidence of pressure on the ocean
bed/be themselves causes to which some, at least, of those
phenomena may be owing.
(303.) The finest slate quarries in Britain, and probably
in the world, are those of Penrhyn in North Wales. Be¬
tween two and three thousand workmen are there con¬
stantly employed in quarrying and cleaving the slates,
which are conveyed to every part of Britain and of the
world, for roofing and writing slates and slabs.
(304.) Among the crystalline schists of the metamor-
phic series, it is no uncommon thing to find fonims ^7^
especially of the mica slate, which allow_large and tole-
rably even slabs to be detached, which in Alpine coun¬
tries are used largely in buildings of the common kind.
Many basalts and lavas afford excellent material, but their
dark colour gives the piles constructed from them a som¬
bre and heavy aspect. The cathedrals of Clermont and
Le Puy afford examples of this.
(305.) Gypsum (sulphate of lime) enters as an ingre¬
dient in cements, casts, and stuccos, and is largely used
wherever moulded forms are required and great hardness is
not essential. In its natural habitat it is an almost universal
concomitant of rock salt and salt springs, though in some
(as at Cardona, in Spain) it is absent, and in others (as at
Bex, near Yevay) it occurs anhydrous, and therefore
useless for such purposes. Large beds of it, however,
occur in the secondary and tertiary formations (seldom or
never in the lower series) without the accompaniment of
salt, as in the older tertiary basin of Paris (whence its
ordinary name of plaster of Paris), in many parts ot
Switzerland, in North Italy (as at the head of the Lake ot
Garda), and in the sub-Apennine marls oi the older
Pleiocene, in Sicily, near Girgente, where it outcrops in
crystals of very singular structure.
(306.) The mineral products which contribute to the
construction of our tools and utensils are almost entile y
either the metals, or those which go to the formation ot
earthenware and glass. Among the useful metals, iron
holds the first rank. Owing to its high attraction for
oxygen it is seldom found native (though instances do
occur, as at Steinbach, Eibestock, at Kamsdorf in
Saxony, and in Mont d’Oulle, near Grenoble, in France),
unless in masses to which a meteoric origin is usually
assigned, and which occur detached and insulated in
various places. The principal masses are—the great
Siberian one described by Pallas, containing cry soli tes;
that of Otumpa, 70 leagues east of Santiago, “ m the vast
plains of the Gran Chaco, where, as in the Pampas of
Buenos Ayres, not a stone is to be seen” which was brought
to England by Sir Woodbine Parish, and now in the
British Museum, and which weighs 14 cwt.; that of Elbo-
gen, in Bohemia; and that of Hraschina, near Agram, in
Croatia (which was seen to fall). Many masses are
scattered over Louisiana, and others have been discovered
in the Esquimaux country and on the Senegal river, ihe
great mass of Otumpa is far from solitary, however, in
that region, and the masses which there occur are de¬
scribed “ as huge trunks with deep roots, supposed to
communicate with each other.” Though a oje wi
nickel (a character common to all these so-called meteoric
masses) this circumstance, and their abundance near
Santiago, “ induced” Sir W. Parish, “ as well as others in
S. America, to hesitate in adopting the meteoric theory,
a hesitation greatly increased by the existence in some
sandy plains near Toconao, ten leagues from San e 10,
in the province of Atacama, in Peru, of an extraor iHR^y
quantity; where, besides detached masses, a vein o so i
iron of the same kind is asserted by the natives to exis .
This suspicion of other than a meteoric origin of t lese
masses is considerably increased by the occurrence o a
similar fact in South Africa. “ Eight days journey eas
of Bethany missionary station, ‘ meteoric iron is foun in
apparently inexhaustible quantities.” Anderssen, to w 10m
we owe the account of this fact, had “ seen lumps o
several cwts. brought thence, so pure and malleable tha
the natives convert it into balls for their guns, without
any previous application of fire.—Lake ’Ngarni, 2d ed.
^ (307.) Iron, however, happily for man, mineralized
either by sulphur or by oxygen (in which latter state of
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 621
Physical combination only it is available for smelting), is diffused
jGeography. over au ■yvoj.itj jn immense abundance. In the island
i 0f g[]3a are wbole mountains consisting of the specular
oxide. The mountains of Taberg in Lapland, and Puma-
chanche in Chili, consist almost entirely of magnetic iron
ore, and mountains of it occur in the Minas Geraes in
Brazil, where in one place it forms a mountain (Itabira) of
the pure oxide, 5250 feet high. It is also plentiful in Cor¬
sica, Savoy, Bohemia, Saxony, Russia, and the East Indies.
In Britain the principal iron mines fortunately accompany
the coal-fields, as around Birmingham, in Staffordshire,
and in the great coal-basins near Pontypool, Merthyr
Tydvil, and Glasgow. The same coincidence happens in
Belgium, and in the coal district near the St. Etienne, in
France. It is chiefly the red and argillaceous iron ores
which are so associated. These, though mostly occurring
in secondary and alluvial countries,are also, though more
rarely, found in the so-called primary formations. On
the other hand, the oxydulated and brown iron ores belong
mainly, though not exclusively, to these formations.
(308.) Among the other metals, it may be observed
generally that manganese, like iron, is found among the
oldest rocks. Tin, molybdoena, tungsten, titanium, ce¬
rium, uranium, chrome, and bismuth, are found almost
exclusively in such veins as traverse the lower crystalline
rocks. Arsenic, cobalt, silver, nickel, and copper, in these
and in the higher members of these series. Gold, tel¬
lurium, and antimony, in the upper crystalline metamor-
phic, and in the older secondary or Silurian rocks. Lead,
zinc, and mercury are found in greatest quantity in
secondary formations. Platina, with its associated metals
(the platinoid group), has, with one exception, not hitherto
been found in the matrix in situ, but (as is also largely the
case with gold) dispersed in alluvial gravels, sands, and
clays.
(309.) Many of the metals are found almost exclusively
in veins. These are fissures or cracks in the rocks,
usually of no great breadth, which are filled—whether by
injection from below, by sublimation, by infiltration from
above, or by crystalline segregation determined by voltaic
currents resulting from chemical reactions—with materials
of quite a different nature from the rocks in which the
fissures occur. The contents of a vein are usually
highly crystallized, and arranged with a certain symme¬
trical reference to the boundary surfaces, so as to form
corresponding layers on either face of several different
spars (especially fluor), with the metallic deposit, whether
sulphuret, oxide, or in union with acids, occupying the
middle; such at least is the normal arrangement of the
contents of a mineral vein, though it is often widely
departed from. Wherever a mineral vein traverses
stratified rock, or differently characterized beds of an
unstratified one, the strata on its two faces are very fre¬
quently, indeed almost generally, found not to correspond
—one or other side of the mass having shifted in level
(whether by upheaval or subsidence), forming what are
called faults in the strata. When the fissure has been
accompanied with and perhaps formed by the violent
injection of non-metallic liquid matter, the vein is called
a dyke, whether of granite, basalt, or other igneous rock.
In such a case the dislocation is a natural concomitant of
the violence used in the formation of the dyke ; but it
would seem probable that metalliferous veins have, at
least in many instances, subsequently and quietly filled up
empty intervals, themselves the results of previous violent
displacement, not accompanied with the injection of melted
matter.
(310.) Veins, as well as dykes, are evidently of different
ages, and belong to different and successive actions of the
dislocating forces. In Cornwall, where the principal tin
mines in Britain, and perhaps in the world, are situated, Physical
the stanniferous veins run almost universally east and Geography
west, while those which intersect and upheave them, pro-
ducing or accompanying dislocations and faults in them
(which this fact proves to be posterior in date), cut them at
various angles, and those which run north and south are
rarely metalliferous. The same tendency to an east and
west direction in metalliferous veins generally has been
remarked in other mining districts, and has been (perhaps
rather hastily) drawn into a general law, and referred to
a generally westerly course of voltaic currents, connected,
as is assumed, with the generally meridional direction of
the magnetic needle.
(311.) Copper, Tin, Lead.—Of the metals found in veins,
these are the most abundant and most generally useful,
either pure or in mixture. Copper occurs in granite in
the slate formations, in the sandstones of the “ Trias” (a
connected system of three members—Keuper, Muschelkalk,
and Bunter Sandstein—common in Germany), in certain
porphyries, and in serpentine. The copper mines of Tuna-
berg in Sweden are in secondary limestone. In Cornwall,
where, in the granite, a copper vein intersects a tin one,
the former always disturbs the latter—a proof of later
origin. Mines of copper are largely wrought in England,
Germany, Sweden, and Siberia ; less so in Spain, France,
Ireland, Norway, and Hungary. Native copper is of
common occurrence, and in North America, in the neigh¬
bourhood of Lake Superior, about its upper end, is found
in blocks of several hundred tons in weight, so pure as to
inquire to be cut with the cold chisel. Malachite, or the
carbonate ot copper, which is valued almost as a gem
when in fine specimens, is largely procured in the Siberian
mines of the Ural and Altai mountains, and in the copper
mines of Burra-Burra in Australia.
(312.) Tin has been generally considered to occur
native in Cornwall; but, according to Phillips {Miner¬
alogy, Ixx.), the specimens which have given rise to this
opinion have been found on the sites of old smelting
works. Mohs {Mineralogy) does not admit it into his
Order ix. of native metals. Its ores (always either oxide
or sulphuret) belong exclusively to primitive countries,
and the localities of its occurrence are comparatively few,
viz., Cornwall, Saxony, and Bohemia in Europe, Tenas-
serim, in the Malayan Peninsula, and Banca Island in
the Straits of Malacca. Some stream works, in which
the oxide is found, exist in Mexico and Chili. At Ches¬
terfield, in North America, it has also been found.
(313.) Lead occurs very rarely in a native state. Its
chief ore is the sulphuret, which is very abundant in most
European countries—comparatively rare in Asia. In
England, perhaps the greatest known depository of this
ore, it occurs in the secondary limestones of Derby, Dur¬
ham, and Northumberland, in clay slate in Cornwall
and Devon. In Scotland, in the Lead Hills in Lanark
and in Dumfries. In North America, in Massachusetts,
it occurs in granite and other crystalline or metamorphic
rocks, which is also the case in France and Spain.
(314.) Gold, Silver, Platina.—Gold and silver, though
they derive their high estimation mainly from their appli¬
cation to utensils and ornaments of luxury and splendour,
yet perform most eminently the offices of useful metals, as
the materials of the most universal of all tools—coined
money. Gold, owing, no doubt, to its low affinities for
oxygen and sulphur, is exclusively found pure, or in alloy
or mixture; all the alloys of a definite character, how¬
ever, are very rare. In its habitat it occurs disseminated
in nodules or threads in many rocks, but chiefly in
quartz, and in the beds of rivers and alluvial deposits,
the result of the degradaion of such rocks. The
long - inhabited countries have been picked clean of
622
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
ones it is
palaeozoic
Physical their alluvial gold, but in newly-occupied
Geography. stip abundant; confined, however, to the
"   ' rocks in the neighbourhood of porphyntic eruptions, and
to the districts adjacent to such rocks, with an especial
preference for those mountain chains which run north and
south. Such are the Mexican and Peruvaan Andes the
-mountain ranges of California and North-Western
America (including the newly-discovered gold districts
on the Fraser River and Vancouver s Island) sue
are also the mountains on the east coast ot Australia,
to which the gold districts of Sydney, Melbourne, and
Adelaide, owe their wealth. Such, too, is the Ural chain
the chief source of the Russian gold. Gold also is found
in Brazil, where almost all the rivers bring it down, in
mines at Matto Grosso, and in Minas Geraes m e
Altai Mountains—in Hungary and Transylvania in
Japan, Borneo, and in the province of Yunan in China,
as well as at the base of the Kong Mountain, and in very
extensive regions in the interior of Africa, where go
dust is obtained by washing, and where the closer exp o-
ration of its mountain chains will no doubt lead to the
discovery of rich deposits. The largest mass of native
gold yet discovered is that recently found at Ballarat,
weighing 2217 ounces, greatly exceeding that ot Miask
in the South Ural (36 kilogrammes = 1158 ounces) found
at Zarevo Alexandrofski in 1842..
(315.) Silver occurs in such immense abundance m
' Mexico and Peru, among the Cordilleras of the Andes,
that it is hardly worth while to enumerate the localities
of its feebler exhibition, such as Hungary and Transyl¬
vania, the Ural and Altai mountains, Armenia, Anatolia,
Thibet, China, Cochin-China, _ and Japan. The most
productive region of the Andes in silver is about Copiapo
in Chili. In Peru, from Caxamarca along the whole
range of the Andes to the desert of Atacama, it is veiy
abundant. The most ancient mines are those of the
“Knot of Pasco.” At Potosi and at Chota the ore lies
close to the surface. In the mines of Huantajaya a mass
of pure silver weighing 800 lbs. has been found. Silver
is a very general concomitant of lead, and a large quan¬
tity is extracted from that metal. This used to be done
by cupellation, the lead being burned off and again
recovered ; but is now performed by the neater and far
less wasteful and costly process of crystallization, by
melting the lead, allowing it to cool and crystallize, and
pouring off the last portions from the crystals formed,
which portions contain all the silver much concentrated.
(316.) Platina is a rare but extremely useful metal.
But for utensils formed of it, chemistry could not have
attained its present state of improvement, either as a prac¬
tical art or as a science. It is found in very few localities
—in Brazil, at Matto Grosso, in Choco, New Granada,
St Domingo, and the Ural Mountains, and always in
alluvium.1 According to the remark of Humboldt, the
principal deposits of gold occur on the eastern, and of
platina on the western side of the Ural chain. One of
the most singular characters of this region is the frequent
occurrence of the fossil bones of extinct pachyderms
among the metalliferous sands. The largest (i pepite”
(nugget, i.e. ingot) of platina hitherto discovered is one of
25 oz. 1 dr., found in the gold mines of Condoto Choco,
S. A. (Phillips).
(317.) Platina is invariably {ownA associated with several
other metals forming a family apart (the platinoids), of very
singular chemical habitudes—viz., palladium, rhodium,
iridium, osmium, ruthenium. Of these, palladium also
occurs alloyed with gold and silver in Brazil, and iridium,
or rather its osmiuret, occurs in almost all gold in a state
of mixture, not of alloy, and is deposited by subsidence, by Physical
reason of its much higher specific gravity, at the bottom of '^sraphy.
the crucible whenever gold, fresh from the mines or
diggings, is melted in large quantities. It sometimes
settles in the finest dust from the melted gold !
(318.) Zinc and Antimony are chiefly useful as alloys
tending to harden other metals, a quality which, in the
case of zinc in union with copper (producing brass, or
bronze), is of the highest importance in many of its appli¬
cations, and in earlier ages enabled it, with the admixture
of tin, to supply the place of iron, then unknown or un¬
workable. Bismuth is also used chiefly as an alloy, which
is also the case with nickel. Zinc is chiefly found in the
state of sulphuret or carbonate, sometimes in veins of tin
or copper, as in Cornwall, but most frequently associated
with lead in the lead-mines of Derbyshire, in the Mendip
Hills; in Scotland, in those of Wanloch-head ; in Wales,
in Flintshire. It occurs also in the mines of Freyberg,
in Saxony, Bleiberg, in Carinthia, Tarnowitz, in Silesia,
and Medziana Goro, in Poland. Enormous masses of
pure calamine are found in some of the North American
mines—in New Jersey, and other parts. It is also found
in the Siberian mines. Indeed, wherever lead occurs,
zinc may be expected.
(319.) Antimony, which, besides its utility in hardening
alloys, is also an important medicine, occurs in veins
traversing gneiss at Allemontin Dauphine. In Cornwall,
in veins traversing those of copper and tin, at Andreas-
berg, in the Hartz—in Saxony, Bohemia, Hungary,
Transylvania, Tuscany, in Mexico, and in Connecticut in
North America. The chief deposits of Bismuth occur in
the veins of primitive mountains. The chief localities are
in the Cornish mines, Johan-Georgenstadt and Schnee-
berg in Saxony, Joachimsthal in Bohemia, in Transyl¬
vania, Swabia, France, Norway, and in Connecticut, N. A.
(320.) Nickel exists in considerable abundance in
China and Japan, whence it reaches us in alloy with
copper as tutenag; also in veins of primitive rocks in
Saxony, Bohemia, the Banat, and in France; in rocks
of the metamorphic and transition series in the Hartz.. It
occurs also in Swabia, at Saltzburg, in Spain ; in veins
traversing serpentine in Silesia, and in copper-mines in
Frederick County, and at Chatham in. Connecticut,
N. A.; in Cornwall, and in Scotland. It is an essential
ingredient in the so-called meteoric iron, which it effec¬
tually preserves from rust (verb, sap.)
(321.) Mercury occurs in few localities, the chief of
which are the mines of Idria in Carniola, and Almaden
in Spain, and it is prominent among the recent great
metalliferous discoveries in California, where mines of it
exist so extensive as to have given a new impulse to the
working of the Mexican silver-mines, "where its chief con¬
sumption takes place in the process of amalgamation.. In
medicine its valuable properties have been long recognized,
and it has now taken its place among the essential mate¬
rials of modern warfare, by reason of the detonating pro¬
perties of one of its snlts.
(322.) At the head of metals useful in the chemical
arts, and in these only, stands Manganese, whose ores
are very widely disseminated both in the primary and
secondary rocks, where it occurs in veins, beds, or irregular
masses, in the state of black oxide, in which alone it is of
any utility. It is found, too, in Cornwall, at Upton Pyne
and Tavistock in Devonshire, at Bristol, near Aberdeen
in Scotland, at Howth near Dublin, in Uefeld in the
Hartz, in Nassau, at Christiansand in Norway, at Flatten
in Bohemia, at Johann-Georgenstadt in Saxony, and in
several places in Hungary, Moravia, Silesia, and France.
1 M. Boussigny found it in a syenitic rock associated with gold at Antioquia, in nth America.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 623
Physical (323.) Arsenic is of almost universal occurrence in
igeography, combination with the other metals, forming arseniurets
and arseniates. Chrome, first discovered in Siberia in
combination with lead, is now almost wholly obtained
from the chromate of iron, which occurs in copious abun¬
dance in Unst, one of the Shetland Isles. These, with
cobalt (which generally accompanies nickel), almost ex¬
haust the list of metals useful in the manufacture of
utensils, and in the chemical and medicinal arts.
(324.) Objects of Conventional Value.—Gems.—At the
head of gems stands the Diamond, which, from its hard¬
ness, may also be reckoned among the useful materials
as a tool. As is well known to chemists, it consists of
pure carbon. It is found all but exclusively in alluvial
detritus, and has never but in two or three instances been
found forming an integrant part of any rock. As such, it
was once observed to occur in scorodite, in a cavity of
brown ironstone at Antonio Pereira, in Brazil, accom¬
panied by micaceous iron, between Villa Rica and Sahara.
Humboldt, or one of his companions in travel, detected it
in the Ural, in situ. M. Harting (Verb, der K. Akad der
Wetensch. Amsterdam. Deel vi. 1854) describes a
diamond from Bahia, including in its substance definitely-
formed crystalline filaments of iron pyrites—a fact unique
in its kind, and, taken in conjunction with the affinities of
iron and carbon at high temperatures, likely to throw some
light on the very obscure subject of the ultimate origin of
this gem.
(325.) Diamonds are found only in few localities. The
principal are between Golconda and Masulipatam, in the
peninsula of India, in Visapore, near Panna in Bundel-
cund, in the vicinity of Ellore, at Mallivully in the Mus-
tapha-nagar Circar (in a peculiar fat white clay associated
with ironstone), in the peninsula of Malacca, in Borneo,
where the largest diamond known (367 carats = 1130
grains) was found in Brazil, in the district of Cerro do Frio,
in the country north of Rio Janeiro: also on each side of
the Sierra Espenhago, and on the affluents of the San
Francisco river. The chief work is at Mandanga, on the
river Jigitonhonha, where diamonds are found in an
alluvium of pebbles called cascalhao; at Goyaz, Matto
Grosso, and St Paul’s. Diamonds are also found in the
Ural, and especially in the rich mining district near
Beresovsk.
(326.) The Sapphire, Oriental Ruby, and Spinelle,
are chiefly found in Ceylon, in the beds of streams ; the
finest in the Capellan Mountains near Sirian in Pegu.
Sapphires also occur near Billin and Merowitz in Bohemia,
in the sand of rivulets near Expailly in France, at Bren-
dola in the Vicentine, and at St Gothard, but not in such
quantity or of such value as to make their search remu¬
nerative. The Spinelle is not uncommon in Brazil, where
also, in the Minas Geraes and at Villa Rica, the Topaz
abounds. The finest Emeralds are found in New
Granada, in veins traversing a formation referable to the
epoch of the greensand or lower chalk. They occur also
in Upper Egypt, and in the valley of Tunca in Santa Fe,
in granite. The Beryl occurs in the greatest purity and
abundance at Nertschinsk in compact ferruginous clay,
in Persia in a vein traversing granite, and in a similar
gisement near Limoges in France. It is also found in
Peru, Brazil, Saxony, and Elba, at Cairn Gorm in Aber¬
deenshire, and in Wicklow, Ireland. To enumerate the
habitats of the inferior gems would be almost equivalent
to giving a catalogue of mineral districts. The Garnet;'
however, may be mentioned as especially belonging to,
and found imbedded in, the mica slate and gneiss forma¬
tions. Corundum, which, though not a gem, possesses
the hardness, and consists of the same materials as one
(the sapphire), and is on that account of great utility (in
its form of emery), is found most abundantly in India, at Physical
Singraula near Sahapur, in Ava, on the Malabar coast, in Geography.
Smyrna, and the isle of Naxos, in Italy and Spain, in
Saxony in beds of steatite, in a schistose rock, and in
Gellivara in Lapland. The Zircon is most abundant in
Ceylon, in the districts of Matura and Suffragam, and is
found also at Kalinovskoi near Beresovsk, and elsewhere
in the Ural, and in the zircon-syenite rocks on the Aggers
Elv in Norway. The Cinnamon Stone is peculiar to
Ceylon.
(327.) Rock Salt is commonly disposed in thick beds,
either superficially, as in Africa, or at very great depths,
as in the Polish mines at Wieliczka; sometimes at great
heights above the sea, as in the Cordilleras and in Savo3r.
The greatest deposit in England is near Northwich in
Cheshire. In Spain at Cardona it forms a rugged precipice
four or five hundred feet high, of such purity as to require
only pounding to be fit for use. At Lahore in India a
similar mass occurs. In Affghanistan a road is cut out
of solid salt at the foot of cliffs of that mineral 100 feet
high. The island of Ormuz, at the entrance of the
Persian Gulf, is a rock of salt. It is almost always found
associated with gypsum.
(328.) Porcelain Clay results from the decomposition
of the felspar in granitic formations. Under the name of
kaolin, it is quarried in China. It occurs also in great
purity at Aue in Saxony, and at Meissen, in Austria near
Passan, at Limoges and near Bayonne in France. The
porcelain manufactories of Worcester are supplied from St
Austel in Cornwall, at the foot of the granite range. In
the granite districts of Ireland it also occurs abundantly.
(329.) Coal.—Happily for mankind this most useful
mineral is very abundantly distributed over the world,
though limited in its occurrence to those regions where
the limestones of the (thence called) carboniferous series
and their associated beds crop out to the surface, or under¬
lie other superficial beds at accessible depths. Coal is
generally deposited in “ coal basins,” or great concave
depressions of the strata, partly owing, no doubt, to the
general curve of the ocean beds in which the deposit was
formed, but much more to their being broken up and dis¬
located by lateral upheavals, so that the parts no longer
correspond—a circumstance extremely favourable to their
working, since the great inclination which the beds
assume would otherwise carry them down beyond the
reach of the miner, were it not that their broken edges are
thus brought up again and made to out-crop on the surface.
(330.) The “ coal measures,” or strata in which the
beds of coal occur, usually alternating with clay and sand¬
stone, are almost absolutely restricted to that group of
the great geological series which used to be termed the
transition series—that is to say, to the formations between
the metamorphic rocks and the secondary limestones, &c.,
and more particularly to the upper Palasozoic formations
between the Devonian and Permian groups, and in these,
to the interval between the old red sandstone, the mountain
or coral limestone and millstone grit below, and the new red
sandstone and magnesian limestone above. From this
circumstance (their coral substratum), from the nature of
the fossils they inclose, and from the form and distribution
of the carboniferous districts, it is inferred that their de¬
positions took place in comparatively shallow seas, receiving
the vegetable spoils of deqsely-clothed islands abounding
in plants of a tropical character, and in particular, with
arborescent ferns, flags, reeds, and large trunks of succu¬
lent plants. Few animal remains, and scarcely a single
shell or coral, are found in the coal measures, while the
vegetable forms, sometimes most beautifully preserved
(though more ordinarily completely obliterated) which
they contain, sufficiently prove their whole mass to con-
624
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY-.
Physical sis of vegetable matter consolidated by heat 'af ' J
Geography. goillg a specific peatifying action by long subtne.Sion >n
water) under a pressure sufBeient to retain the mme
volatile portions of their structure in combination mth *e
carbon, forming bitumen and all the varieties of hydro
carbo" which, as is well known, the distillation of coal
yields in abundance. Where the heat has been very
violent the coal is converted into anthracite, o
coal ” culm,” or “ Welsh coal,” which is almost pure
carbon; and in some instances, in the neighbourhood o
trap-dykes, into true coke, evidently from the effect of heat
under insufficient pressure.
('331.') The coal measures would seem to mark an epoc
of great interest in the geological history of the world,
from the circumstance that whereas their strata bea
every mark of great disturbance and violent dislocation,
those incumbent on them are for the most part horizontal
or comparatively little inclined. Such, atleast, is
case in the great coal series of England and the Nethe
lands, and such is the impression strongly left by the
moderate inclination and slight disturbance of the sand¬
stones immediately incumbent on the great coal-fields o
North America. • n +1^0
(332.) Coal occurs in immense abundance in all ttios
parts of England, Scotland, and Wales where the strata
above specified crop out, especially—(1.) In Northumbei-
land and Durham, in a district the central point of which
is somewhere about Jarrow at the mouth of the iyne, in
which it has been calculated that between five and six
thousand millions of tons of workable coal exist (Phillips
china- Thomson); (2.) In South Yorkshire, Nottingham,
and Lancashire; (3.) In Staffordshire and Warwick in a
re"ion having Ashby de la Zouche for its centre ; (4.) In
what may be called the western and south-western coal
districts, comprising Anglesey, Flintshire, Shropshiie,
South Gloucester, Somerset, Monmouth, and Glamorgan ;
(5.) The Scotch coal-field occupying the great central low¬
land of Scotland; (6.) The Irish counties of Leinstei,
Tipperary, Munster, Connaught, and lyrone. The largei
portion of the whole area of Ireland, indeed, is occupied
by the carboniferous formations. _
(333.) On the continent of Europe coal occurs in Bel¬
gium in the district about Liege; in France in the neigh¬
bourhood of Vienne on the Khone. The south of Europe
is, generally speaking, destitute of coal. It has hitherto
been found but very sparingly in Russia. It has been
lately discovered, though of inferior quality, at a depth
of 360 feet, near Moscow. By far the greatest system
of coal deposits known, however, is that of the United
States of America. It is considered that the state of
Pennsylvania consists, in about one-third of its area, of
coal-fields belonging to the great Appalachian system of
coal measures, which extend altogether over upwards of
60,000 square miles. One of the seams in this formation,
near Pittsburg, is worked through a large extent of its
outcrop as an open quarry. The Illinois coal-field, which
covers an area as large as England, in Illinois, Indiana,
and Kentucky, consists of horizontal strata, and has nume¬
rous seams of excellent coal. Michigan, New Brunswick,
Nova Scotia, and Vancouver’s Island, all yield coal in
abundance. It occurs at the height of 14,750 feet in the
Peruvian Andes.
(334.) Coal is also found in a vast number of other
localities both in Asia and Australia, in Asia Minor
(on the coast of the Black Sea, near Trebizond), in
Borneo, Formosa, Tasmania, and New Zealand. In
India coal occurs on the Damoda river; also in Silhet
and Cashar.
(335.) Sulphur often accompanies salt and gypsum.
It is produced in abundance, accompanying the latter
mineral and sulphate of stroiitia (all three superbly Physical
crystallized) in the mines of Catolica in Sicily. The
greater part of the sulphur of commerce is procured from
“ Solfataras” or volcanic half-extinguished vents, where,
from “ Fumaroles” and fissures in the soil, the sulphur is
sublimed. The Solfatara, emphatically so called, near
Naples, supplies an immense quantity. There exist also
great masses of sulphur, constituting almost mountains,
such as the Sulphur Island of the Luchu Archipelago. _
Great quantities occur among the volcanoes of Iceland, of
Java, and of the Andes. It is one of the most universal
of volcanic products.
(336.) Distribution of Plants.—Climate and soil are the
elements which determine the abstract possibility of
existence of all terrestrial and fresh-water vegetable pro¬
ductions. Their actual distribution over the globe in¬
volves, however, another element, which greatly limits
the area over which particular classes and families of
plants are found to prevail. Thus, while some not only
will grow and flourish, but are naturally found indige¬
nous, almost indiscriminately, wherever the soil and cli¬
mate are suitable, there are others which are found
native only in very limited districts, or even restricted to
particular spots, removed from which they perish, or
refuse to produce seed. Thus, the Disa grandiflora is
found exclusively on the summit of the Table Mountain
at the Cape of Good Hope, and no one has succeeded in
getting it to grow elsewhere. The Coco-de-Mer (Lodoi-
cea Seychellarum) is found only in the Seychelles Islands,
and though it can be grown in Mauritius, can never be
brought to produce fruit there. The Hymenophyllum
Tunbridgense is found hardly anywhere but on the sand
rocks of Tunbridge Wells. These, however, and such as
these, are rare and exceptional cases, as are also those of
plants usually of very low organization, which grow only
under special, and even artificial conditions, as in the
decaying hoof of a horse, or on the outside of ime-casks.
They are, however, only the extreme exaggeration
of a principle which may be considered as of universal
application—that of the repartition of families, genera,
and species, in districts or regions more or less extensive,
in which only they are indigenously found in full deve¬
lopment, though perfectly capable of flourishing and pro¬
pagating elsewhere when artificially introduced. Indeed,
it is found in many instances, that plants so introduced
into a new soil and climate, not only rapidly adapt them-,
selves to it, but flourish with singular exuberance of
growth, as if their old and original habitat had become
in some degree exhausted of their peculiar pabulum, and
they were there in process of dying out. This has been
singularly exemplified of late in the instance of the Ana-
charis alsinastrum,an American river weed, not remarkable
for any great exuberance of growth in its native streams,
but which, having been accidentally introduced into some
English rivers, has spread into others, and is becoming a
pest by filling and obstructing their beds in a way.befoie
unheard of. The thistles of the Pampas, of gigantic
growth and immense extent of distribution, are said to
be of European origin.
(337.) As the mean temperatures of the surface-soil
and of the air change not only with the latitude, but with
the height above the sea, the same limits of temperature
which restrict the habitat of a plant to a definite zone of
latitude, or to the interval between two isothermal lines,
will also be marked out on mountains or highlands of
sufficient altitude, whose lower parts are situated in an
isotherm admitting of its growth, by zones of elevation.
In such cases, the plant will be found flourishing at the
base and up the slope, and gradually becoming more and
more stunted, till it disappears altogether. Thus, on a
, v PH Y S I C A L GEOGRAPHY.
625
Physical lofty equatorial mountain, every form of vegetation, from
geography. 0f t}ie equatorial to the polar regions, may exist, it
the soil and water supply be fitting; each form occupying
its appropriate zone, Of those which prevail on the
Andes, and over the plains and lower elevations of Equa¬
torial America, Humboldt has given a condensed view
in a chart, from which our Plate IV. is copied, and which
exhibits well the principle in question; and a reference
to which will spare us much verbal explanation. The
powerful influence which the element of moisture, as well
as heat, has in determining the extent and limit of these
mountain zones, is strikingly exemplified on the Peak of
Teneriffe, where, at lower altitudes, the cloud-level de¬
termines a moist atmosphere, and where, at higher levels,
the extreme of desiccation is gradually attained ; here we
find, according to the recent report of Mr. P. Smyth, that
on descending from Alta Vista, where (at an altitude of
10,700 ft.) only lichens are found, we come, at the upper
limit of 9800 ft., first on the Retama (Cytisus nubigenus),
which occupies the whole zone, down to 5700 feet, to the
exclusion of every other plant; then quite suddenly oc¬
curs the Erica arboracea, to the exclusion of the Retama,
and of all other plants, except the Adenocarpus Franke-
noides, which latter extends from 5900 ft. to 4200 ft., not,
however, mixing in the upper portion of this, its zone,
with the Retama, but occupying cinders, while the latter
holds the rocky ground. The Erica descends to 1800 feet
of altitude, but in the lower portion of its zone it encounters
ferns from 5400 to 2300 feet, the AndroscenumWebbianum
(4900 to 1400), the laurel (5000 to 3500), and the vine
(3700 to 2300). Three thousand feet is the lower limit
of the perennial mountain cloud, which separates the
under from the upper current of wind.
(338.) The decrease of temperature with increase of
altitude, proceeding at an average rate of 1° Fahr. for
about 350 feet of altitude (see Meteorology), it will be
easy to compute at what height above the sea, on a moun¬
tain slope, situate on a given isotherm, a plant, the mean
temperature of whose most appropriate habitat is known,
may be expected to be found, if at all. It is not, how¬
ever, the mean temperature of the whole year, so much
as the law of its distribution over the several months, and
especially the temperature attained in the summer months,
which principally determines the most vigorous growth of
a plant, and the limits of its reproductive existence. The
latter limit will, of course, he defined by the impossibility
of its flowering and ripening its seed. When a plant can¬
not flower, it must, of course, die out, even if artificially
introduced. Now, it has been laid down by botanists,
that a plant flowers where the sum of the mean diurnal
temperatures (or rather, as maintained by M. Quetelet, on
apparently better grounds, that of the squares of those
mean temperatures), from the epoch of the first movement
of the sap in the spring, attains a definite amount, differ¬
ing for each species of plant, but invariable for the same,
under all circumstances. Wherever, then, on the globe,
the climate is such, whether from the lateness of the spring,
or the coldness of summer, that the appropriate sum is
not attained up to the cessation of the annual cycle of the
plant’s activity, it cannot flower, much less fructify. This
appropriate sum has hitherto been determined for very
few plants. For the common lilac, it is 4264 square cen¬
tigrade degrees (Quetelet, Pro5a&. p. 164, Transl.) As the
effect of each day’s warmth progresses in a higher ratio
than that of simple proportionality, it is easily seen that a
short and hot summer may (as experience shews it does)
far outweigh, in its influence on reproductive vitality, the
rigour of a prolonged and severe winter.
(339.) The general influence of climate in accelerating
or retarding the fructification of plants and the ripening
YOL. XVII
of their seeds, will be best exemplified by the periods at Physical
which the wheat harvest commences on an average of^g™^,-
years, in different latitudes, which we find stated by Dr
Balfour as follows :—
Localities.
Malta .
Palermo
Naples
Rome .
Berlin .
Alps (3000 ft.)
Mean Period of
Sowing.
Dec. 1.
Dec. 1.
Nov. 1.
Nov. 1.
Sept. 12.
Mean Time of
Harvest.
May 13.
May 20.
June 2.
July 2.
Aug. 7.
Difference in
Days.
162
170
195
242
299
329
Owing, however, to the comparatively higher summer
heat in Sweden, and the more rapid vegetation than in
England, the wheat harvest at Upsala is not later than
that in the south of England; and barley ripens ten days
earlier. According to M. Berghaus (Aim. de Gotha,
1840) the time of flowering of plants in general is retarded
by 34 days, by an increase of 10° in latitude in the north
of Europe, by 40 days in the more temperate countries,
and by 74 days (for a similar increase of latitude) in south
Europe and Asia Minor. M. Quetelet (Probab. 172)
assigns 5 days for the general retardation of flowering
due to 100 yards of elevation above the sea.
(340.) The local distribution of genera and species of
plants over the globe tends very strongly to suggest the
idea, now become prevalent among botanists, of specific
centres in which they have had their origin, and from
which they have spread, by divergence in all directions,
till intercepted in their progress of propagation by some
insuperable barriers, whether of climate, soil, or sea. The
greater or less areas over which they have so spread have,
of course, been determined by the natural facilities for the
dissemination of their seeds by winds, by birds, or by
water transport; while mountain ranges have in some
cases supplied, as it were, stepping-stones for traversing
regions, the plains of which are not adapted to their
growth. This taking place at an earlier geological
epoch, when much that is now sea was land, and when a
continuity existed between countries now widely divided,
affords a satisfactory explanation of many otherwise un¬
accountable phenomena. Thus, for example, we find the
flora of Iceland to be nearly identical with that of the
Scandinavian mountains. Europe and North America
have many plants in common. The flora of the mountain
districts of west and south-west Ireland, as Prof. E. Forbes
has shown, is similar to that of the north and west of
Spain ; that of the loftiest British mountains refers itself
to the same origin with that of the Scandinavian Alps.
Thus, too, the chain of the Andes has afforded a line of
communication of identical species from the equator to the
very extremity of Terra del Fuego. The only question
at issue is, as to the singleness or multiplicity of these
specific centres in the case of one and the same species.
Professor Schouw contends for the latter view of the sub¬
ject, grounding his reasoning on the fact of identical
plants appearing in regions so very far remote and sepa¬
rated by such natural obstacles, as to render the idea of
migration untenable, as when, for instance, we find Euro¬
pean plants, such as Phragmites communis, Alisma Plan-
tago, and others, in America, New Zealand, and Yan
Diemen’s Land, and not in intermediate countries. Sir
W. Hooker has enumerated more than thirty antarctic
species, as identical with European ones.
(341.) The total number of plants known to exist has
been estimated by Dr Balfour at 120,000, and those ac-
4 K
626 PHYSICAL G
Physical t a ally described, at 96,000, viz., of acotyledonous plants
Geography.-^ooo, monocotyledonous 14,000, and dicotyledonous
07,000. These, however, differ in their relative propoi-
tions to each other widely in different quarters of the
elobe. The lower forms of vegetation, the acotyledoiis,
bear a larger proportion to the others in polar and alpine
regions. In equatorial regions, the monocotyledons are
to the dicotyledons as 1 to 5 or 6, in temperate as 1 to
4, and in cold climates, as 1 to 3. In the extreme climates
of the arctic islands, however, the proportion diminishes,
while on the other hand, in the antarctic islands, they are
comparatively much more numerous; the ratio in Km-
o-uelen’s island being as 1 to 2, and in Lord Auckland s
group, according to Hooker, 1 to 2-2. In central and
southern Europe the proportion is I to 4 on the plains,
decreasing with increase of altitude up to 8500 feet, wheie
it is 1 to 7. Among the monocotyledons gramineous
forms especially flourish in temperate and cool climates.
(342.) Ferns bear the least proportion to phaenogamous
plants in the middle temperate zone, where they form
about l-70th of the whole flora, the ratio increasing both
towards the equator and the poles. In the low plains of
the great continents within the tropics they amount to
l-20th, while in their mountainous districts the ratio is
as high as 1 to 7. The proportion of ferns attains its
maximum in small islands situate in great oceans. Thus,
in Otaheite their proportion to phaenogamous plants is as
high as 1 to 4, and in St Helena and Ascension as 1 to 2.
*(343.) Among the phmnogamous plants, the orders of
gramineae, cyperacem, and juncace®, increase in propor-
fion to the rest as the latitude increases. The reverse is
the case with the rubiaceae, leguminosae, euphorbiaceae,
and malvaceae, while the natural orders of cruciferas, um-
belliferae, and composite, are comparatively more abund¬
ant in the temperate latitudes, the proportion of the latter
rising as high as 1 to 6 in the temperate regions of
America.
(344.) The following classification of plants, according
to their climatic distribution, specifying those families
which are more especially characteristic in each zone, has
been given by Yon Humboldt, in illustration of the dif¬
ferent aspects of vegetation presented in ascending a lofty
equatorial mountain, in which the several zones are tra¬
versed in rapid succession. Here we find that the—
Region of Corresponds to the
Palms and Bananas, .... Equatorial Zone.
Tree Perns and Figs, .... Tropical Zone.
Myrtles and Laurels, .... Subtropical Zone.
Evergreen Trees, Warm Temperate Zone.
Deciduous Trees, Cold Temperate Zone.
Pines,   . Subarctic Zone.
Rhododendrons, Arctic Zone.
Alpine Plants, ...... Polar Zone
The zones here in question are not limited by parallels
vf latitude, nor by the mean isothermal lines, but rather
by those which we have called isotheral, or those which
have an equal mean summer temperature, so as to pre¬
sent on the globe undulated outlines comprising between
them plants which have a certain general resemblance.
These therefore have been denominated Homozoic zones
by Professor E. Forbes. Their limits, however, are
necessarily ill defined, as they overlap or run into each
other by a community of more or fewer genera and spe¬
cies, and in greater or less abundance of individuals of
each such conterminous species.
(345.) The equatorial zone, according to Dr Balfour,
besides the palms and bananas, which may be regarded
as its most abundant characteristics (including the cocoa-
nut and plantain), comprehends also arborescent grasses,
orchidaceous plants and lianas, the coffee-trees, the
ginger and its congeners, together with the cinnamon, the
eograph y.
nutmeg, and other rich spices. The baobab (Adansonia Physical
digitata) of Senegal, the most massive, and supposed to Geography,
be"^ among the longest-lived of trees, is a native of this
zone, as are also many others of gigantic growth, and of
great commercial importance, as the mahogany-tree of
Honduras and Cuba, the locust-tree of the West Indies,
the logwood, the mora of Guiana, and the ebony; and
among5edible products, the pineapple, breadfruit, and the
finest*of all fruits, the mangosteen (Garcinia Mangostana),
a native of Malacca.
(346.) In the tropical zones, besides the tree ferns and
ficus family, to which the banyan of India belongs,
which are its predominant characteristics, we find the
piperacese (pepper and its congeners), melastomacese, and
convolvulaceoe, among which the C. Batatas or sweet
potato, is among the most useful. The yam also (dios-
corea) belongs principally to this zone, as does also the
teak, one of the most valuable of timber trees.
(347.) In the subtropical zones few palms occur; we find
in it, however, the date palm of Egypt and North Africa,
and the Chammrops Palmetto, which extends even into
Sicily. These, however, are the zones par excellence of
the euphorbias and cactuses, the magnolias, proteas,
heaths (erica), and their Australian representative, the
epacridacem. The zamia and cycas also occur. This
zone is remarkable for the enormous growth of several of
its timber trees. In California (included in it) has been
discovered the Wellingtonia gigantea, the loftiest and
grandest of trees, said to attain the almost fabulous height
of 400 or even 500 feet, with a diameter of forty or fifty
feet near the ground. The Californian pine (Abies Dou-
glassii) is also of enormous stature, sometimes attaining
245 feet in height, with a circumference of fifty-seven feet
three feet from the ground. The Araucaria imbricata of
Chile also attains the magnificent altitude of 260 feet, the
Norfolk Island pine (Eutassa excelsa) 224, the Snuglok
(a species of tropical oak in the Valley of Teesta, in Sik¬
kim) 200, &c.
(348.) Besides the evergreen oaks in the south of
Europe, we also find in the warmer temperate zones, in
perfection, the esculent fig, the orange, the pomegranate,
and the vine, with numerous species of cistus, vaccinium,
smilax, and melaleuca.
(349.) In the colder temperate zone we find the ve¬
getation so familiar to us in England and in north
Europe—the oak, the ash, the beech, the chestnut, and
the walnut; great forests of coniferae, the hemlock spruce,
and the sugar maple of the American forests. In the
southern hemisphere the blue gum-tree attains a gigantic
size in Van Diemen’s Land. Elwes {Tour round the
World, p. 268) records a specimen in Lory Bay 27 feet
in girth at five feet above the ground, a quite straight tree,
which would square 2 feet 6 inches at 200 feet, and con¬
taining 5000 cubic feet of timber!
(350.) The subarctic zone is that of coniferae, willows,
birch, and poplar. In the valley of the Black Irkut, in
Siberia, Atkinson found a ravine filled with ice, and large
poplars growing in it, with their trunks imbedded 25
feet in snow and ice, while the branches were in full leaf.
Around each stem was a hollow of 9 inches, thawed and
full of water.
(351.) In the arctic zone the willow, the birch, and the
alder are dwarfed. The Pinus sylvestris and Abies ex¬
celsa in north Europe; rhododendrons, azaleas, and an-
dromedas in North America, with some grasses and nu¬
merous lichens and mosses also occur.
(352.) Finally, in the polar zone neither trees nor
bushes, nor any cultivable esculent plants can exist. Yet
Melville Island produces 67 species of flowering plants,
and Spitzbergen 45. Kane found 22 species at Sylvia
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical Headland in 78° 41'N. lat. Saxifrage, dryas, papaver,
Geography, ranunculus, juncus, potentilla, salix, and some other ge-
nera> are enumerated as among the plants of these regions.
In the southern hemisphere the vegetation of the subarc¬
tic zone is confined to a few cryptogamous plants, and
that of the arctic and polar zones may be considered as
nil.
(353.) Botanists, however, have considered the distri¬
bution of plants under another and more special point of
view, taking account, not so much of the general contents
of the zones of climate, as of those regions or districts over
which particular families of plants prevail in their fullest
state of development, or to which they are exclusively
confined. Of these distributions, perhaps, the most gene¬
rally received is that of Schouw, who divides the surface
of the globe into regions, on the principle that, to consti¬
tute a botanical u region,” at least one-half of the species,
and one-fourth of the genera, of some one or more natui'al
families of plants, should be peculiar to it, and that indi¬
vidual orders should either be peculiar to, or reach their
maximum in it. Where this condition is either imper¬
fectly fulfilled, or the flora of a district, though evidently
peculiar, is not sufficiently known to afford a phytological
designation to it, the “ region ” must be accepted as a pro¬
visional one.
(354.) The first botanical region thus marked out is
nearly co-extensive with the polar and arctic zones of
the former subdivision, including all the land within the
polar circle and the northern parts of the two great conti¬
nents, from the ice down to the zone of trees; and the
upper parts of the European mountains and those of North
Asia, down to the arborescent belt. Saxifrages and mosse
are the especial characteristics of this region, gentian-
aceae, caryophyllacete, cyperaceas, and salicaceae, also
abound. In the northern portion of this region caricts
predominate. On the more southern alpine heights prim¬
roses and campanulas appear. On the warmer borders
of this region forests of fir and birch, to the exclusion of
other trees, begin to present themselves.
(355.) The x-egion which extends in northern Europe
and Asia fx-om the warmer limit of the former down to
the Pyrenees, Alps, the Balkan, and Caucasus, and the
Altai range of mountains, is especially characterized by
the predominance of umbelliferous and cruciferous plants.
In this region also (which is nearly conterminous, in the
quarters of the globe to which it belongs, with the zone
of deciduous trees) coniferous and amentaceous trees
abound ; and of shrubs and other plants, the families ro-
sacem, ranunculi, carices, and fungi, are largely developed.
In its north Eui’opean portion, chicoraceous plants
abound (the dandelions and their congeners), while in
southern Asiatic Russia and the countries bordering on
the Caucasus, cynarocephalm (the thistle and artichoke
tribe) and astragali, as well as many saline plants, appear
as prominent featui’es. The cultivated plants are those of
the temperate zones.
(356.) The next botanical region may be considered
as including the Mediterranean flora, that is, of south Eu¬
rope, Asia Minor, and north Africa, down to the Desert,
the Canaries, and Madeira, with exception, of course, of
the Alpine heights, which belong to the first region. Here
stand prominent the labiatce and caryophyllacece (families of
which the blind nettle and pink afford instances). This,
within its limits, coincides with the zone of evergreen
trees, and nourishes those fruit-bearing trees enumerated
in our account of that zone. Rice also and millet, cot¬
ton, guinea corn, and the almond, are here cultivated.
The cistus abounds in Spain and Portugal; the ai'o-
matic labiataa and scabiosge in Finance and Italy; the
shrubby labiatae in Greece and Asia Minor ; the oleander
627
adorns the Mediterranean coast, and many balsamiferous Physical
and gum-yielding ti'ees and shrubs flourish in Asia Minor Geography,
and North Africa. In the Canary Isles the family of
houseleeks (sempervivum), and in Madeira arbox-escent
heaths ai’e common. Four-fifths of the Azorean species
are European, the remainder are peculiar to the Atlantic
islands. A specimen of the Dracmna Draco, on Teneriffe,
in the Canaries, is said to be the oldest existing tree.
(357.) The flora of the eastern portion of North Amei’ica,
from the limits of the arctic region to the 36th parallel,
differs from that of the corresponding district in Europe
in the paucity of umbellifei*ous, cruciferous, and cynoi’a-
cephalous plants; in the absence of heaths; and in the
predominant abundance of asters and solidagos. Maize is
much cultivated in the southern part of this x’egion.
Among its forest trees the hemlock, spruce, and the sugar
maple, the hickory, the tulip-ti’ee, and the liquid amber,
as well as many peculiar and magnificent oaks and othei’s,
which in autumn assume the most vivid tints of red and
yellow. Kalmias, azaleas, rhododendrons, hydrangeas,
and other richly flowering shrubs, occur also in great
abundance.
(358.) The western flora of North America, down to
the same parallel, is less known, and constitutes a region
apart—that of California, Oregon, Vancouver's Island,
and Russian America. It is remarkable for the beauty
and bi’illiancy of colour of its flowers, among which the
eschscholzia would seem to have imbibed the quintessence
of the Californian gold. The nemophilasjclai’kias, and in¬
numerable others of this region, have become the pride of
our gardens. But it is chiefly in the grandeur of its
timber trees that this region stands conspicuous. The
Wellingtonia, or “Mammoth tree,” has already been
mentioned (ai’t. 347), and a vast number of peculiar coni-
ferm, such as the Abies balsamea, grandis, alba, cana¬
densis, Douglassii, the Pinus ponderosa, Lambertiana,
insignis, Fremontiana, and many others, of which A.
gx-andis attains the height of 224 feet, A. alba 160, P.
Fremontiana 224, and Lambei’tiana 235. The Thuyia
gigantea of the Rocky Mountains attains 200 feet.
Many of these thrive well in England.
(359.) The southern x’egion of North America, which
may be called, par excellence, the region of magnolias, is
distinguished from the cox-responding region of the old
continent by the paucity of labiate and cayrophyllaceous
plants. Its trees have broad shining leaves and beautiful
flowers. The tulip-tree here attains 120 feet in height.
Here, too, we have the long-leaved pitch pine (one of the
most picturesque of trees), clothing the “ pine barrens,”
while the swamps of the southern states px-oduce the df -
ciduous cypress, the aquatic oak, and the swamp hickory.
Among the more beautiful and curious of the flowers are
the Nelumbium luteum and the Dionasa Muscipula. The
forests of Florida and Alabama are hung with air-plants
(Tillandsia usneoides). In this region also many tropical
forms occur—zinziber, cycas, cactus, anona, &c. Of 289?
species of phaenogamous plants in the United States, only
385 occur in northern or temperate Europe.
(360.) In the subtropical, or warm temperate re¬
gion of east Asia, from the 30th parallel northward,
comprehending Japan, the north of China, and Chi¬
nese Tartary, plants of the order ternstrcemiacece (tea
and its congeners) and celastracece chiefly abound. Ca¬
mellia, thea, citrus, rhamnus, and lonicera, occur abun¬
dantly, the two latter in Mantchouria so much so, as
to give a peculiar chax-acter to the vegetation, and to
merit for it the name of the region of rhamni and ca-
prifoliacece. The flora of this region is, in many x-e-
spects, intermediate between that of the Old and New
World. The loquat, the tallow-tree (Stillingia sebifera)*
628
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical the camphor-laurel, and the Westana sinensis, are native!
Geography. 0f this region. The south of China forms a disstinc _
gion, having many peculiar plants, among w^h Ae "ice-
paper plant of Formosa, and that delicate fruit, thelitchi,
ma(36ie.)The flora of India, Ceylon, and the south-east¬
ern Asiatic peninsula, to the height of 4000 or 5000 feet,
more expressly marked by the number of
nlants, by leguminosse, cucurbitacese, and tiliaceae.
also we find the cocoa-nut, the mangosteen, cinnamon,
cloves, turmeric, indigo, cotton, and PePPCr- 6a
abundant in the Birman empire and on the Malabar coast.
The varnish-tree and that which produces the stick-lac ,
mangroves, casuarinas, immense bamboos, the satin-wood,
(Chloroxylon Swietenia), the Borassus flabelliformis, a
mao-nificent palm, said to grow 100 feet high, and t0 P^0-
duce leaves large enough to shelter twelve men, and the
Amherstia nobilis, the most magnificent of flowering
trees belong to this region. ,
(362.) The mountain country south of the Himalaya,
to the height of 10,700 feet, including the Sub-Himalayan
provinces of Upper India, form a region which has some
European plants. Ranunculus, nasturtium, veronica, and
polygonum, mix with a rich vegetation peculiarly Indian.
Here occur the Cedrus deodara, supposed by Hooker to
be a variety of that of Lebanon, sometimes attaining 200
feet in height and 36 in girth; the Pinus excelsa, Web-
biana, longifolia, and others. In the higher portions of
this region are found species of oak, rhododendron, bei-
beris, and primula; in the lower, many tropical plants.
In the valleys of the Central and East Himalaya, arbo¬
rescent ferns and orchids occur in great luxuriance. The
Saul wood too, (Shorea robusta), that dreadful poison the
Aconitum ferox, and that most beautiful of magnolias (M.
insignis), are natives of this region. India abounds with
urticas (nettle), the sting of some of which, as U. crenu-
lata, is most formidable in its effects.
(363.) To the region of the Asiatic islands, including
those of the Indian Ocean and those between the Eastern
Peninsula and Australia, below the altitude of 5000
feet, belong most of the plants of tropical India, with many
peculiar ones, as the Carica papaya (papaw-tree), which
occurs also in Central America, the Jatropha manihot, the
bread-fruit, coco-de-mer, the poisonous upas of Java, and
a nettle even more formidable than the Urtica crenulata,
whose sting sometimes produces death (the Daoun Satan
or Devil’s leaf of Timor), as well as that of Sumatia,
called tenacissima, which makes excellent cordage, dhe
Rafilesia Arnoldi of Sumatra, a parasitical plant, bears
the largest of flowers, being 3 feet 6 inches in dia¬
meter. Orchidem and other parasites load the trees
in the rank forests of Java, and ferns also are abundant.
This is especially the region of spices. The forests pro¬
duce an infinite variety of useful and ornamental woods.
In Borneo are found the Dryobalanops camphora and the
Pandanus odoratissimus or screw pine, a tree with but¬
tress-like roots, every branch of which terminates in an
enormous head, like the pine-apple plant. The sugar¬
cane is cultivated in Mauritius, and the whole character
of the vegetation of this region is rich and luxuriant be¬
yond imagination.
(364.) The higher portions of this district, where it
exceeds 5000 feet in altitude, has a flora of its own,
nearly allied to that of the higher elevations of India, in
which extra-tropical forms replace the tropical, and where
we find forests of various species of oak, podocarpus (a
species of yew), plantagos, gentians, and vaccinia, and
other genera of colder regions.
(365.) The islands of the Pacific (Oceanica) form a re¬
gion the character of whose vegetation partakes of the
Asiatic and Australian. Of their 214 genera, 173 are Physical
found in India. In the Sandwich Islands nearly one- geography
third of the vegetation consists of ferns. No less than 50
varieties of bread-fruit, the paper mulberry, the Dracaena
terminalis or ki, which supplies food and an intoxicating
drink, the Tacca pinnatifida or Otaheite saleep, which
produces a starch, with several other peculiar fruit-bear-
in" trees and esculents are found here. Lobelias, grapes,
sedges, myrtles, and arums also abound. In common with
the°Australian flora, we find in this region species of cas-
uarinae, proteaceae, epacridaceae, and acacias.
(366.) The Arabian region, which includes that part of
the Asiatic continent stretching across Persia and Af¬
ghanistan to the plains of north-west India, is more espe¬
cially characterized as that of balsamic trees, mimosa?,
acacirn, balsamodendron, and amyris. The coffee, the
sensitive plant, numerous species of ficus, senna, &c., are
also products of this region. The Boswellia serrata pro¬
duces frankincense. Coffee is supposed to be originally a
native of Abyssinia, where in Kaffa it forms dense
thickets.
(367.) The Desert region, comprising the sandy wastes
of Africa and Syria, as may easily be supposed, is poor
in plants. It has no peculiarly characteristic genera, and
the species which chiefly inhabit it are those of acacia,
mimosa, cassia, and zygophyllum or caper-bean, the date,
palm, and the dourra (sorghum) supply food, and the pen-
nisetum grass and Alhagi maurorum form the chief sup¬
port of the camel.
(368.) The flora of tropical Africa is but imperfectly
known. Leguminous, rubiaceous, and cyperaceous plants
abound throughout. On the west coast we find the bao¬
bab and the palm-oil plant (Elais guineensis), ground
nuts, and the akee (Cupaniasapida), the envelope of whose
seed is eaten, the kola nut, the Pentadesma butyracea,
the butter and tallow tree of Sierra Leone, and the poison
bean of Calabar. On the east coast the distinguishing
genera are danais, ambora, dombeya, and senacia. Cotton,
indigo, tobacco, the sugar-cane, ginger, yams, cassada,
bananas, cocoa-nuts, papaws, oranges, pine-apples, and
many others, form the rich catalogue of vegetable delica¬
cies and commercial treasures furnished by this important
region. < .
(369.) Central America (including Mexico and South
America to the Amazon river, from the sea level to 5500
feet in altitude) is the region especially characterized by
cactuses and piperaceous plants. In the West Indian isles,
ferns and orchideous plants also prevail. In Panama,
besides these, we find abundant leguminosas, melastoma-
ceas, composite, and cinchonaceae. I hat noble flower,
the Victoria Regia, occurs in this region, and in all the
warmer parts of south-eastern America. The lower
parts of Mexico, Guiana, New Granada, and Peru,
abound in palms. The vegetable-ivory palm is a native
of the last-named province. The Anona Cherimolia, or
Peruvian pine-apple, is celebrated. Indeed this region
is the original habitat of the pine-apple. The fragrant
vanilla, and that kind of vanilla called chica, are culti¬
vated in this province, with the Theobroma cacao or
chocolate. The sugar and tobacco culture of the West
India islands is too well known to need mention. The
agave, or American aloe, which yields the pulque wine,
the custard-apple, and guava, the cassava or manioc, and
the capsicum; among woods, the Hymenasa Courbaril,
or copal tree, logwood, mahogany, &c.; and among
poisons, the ourali or woorara (Strychnos toxicaria), are
also indigenous in this most rich and productive region.
(370.) The Mexican highlands (above 5500 feet) offer,
of course, the prevailing families of the colder countries.
Many peculiar coniform, as the Pinus religiosa Apul-
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 629
Physical censis, Hartwegii, and Montezumas, sixteen species of
Geography. quercus? antj ^he deciduous cypress (which here attains a
height of 120 feet, and 30 or 40 feet in girth) grow here.
(371.) Between 5° and 20° S. lat., and the altitudes
5000 and 9600 feet in the Cordilleras of the Andes, the
cinchonas, which yield the medicinal alkaloids, quinine
and cinchonine, are found almost exclusively. The
Ceroxylon andicola, which produces wax on the surface
of its stem, and the Chenopodium Quinoa, a Peruvian
plant affording a nutritious meal from its seeds, are
native here.
(372.) The still loftier elevations of the Andes are
particularly rich in escallonias and calceolarias, associated
with many alpine plants. The cultivated vegetation of
the warm temperate zone is not altogether absent from
this region, since we find the vine, the orange, and the
olive succeeding well in La Paz, on the plateau of Boli¬
via, 12,200 feet above the sea-level. (K. Johnston.)
(373.) The basin of the Amazon river, and the upper
part of that of the Parana, comprising the portion of
■ South America east of the Andes from the equator to the
southern tropic, is rich beyond description in every form
of forest vegetation. Palms and melastomas are its more
characteristic forms. We have reeds of 100 feet high,
grasses of 40, and tree ferns. The magnificent forest
trees are covered, and, in some cases stifled, with over¬
whelming masses of parasitical creepers, with orchidese,
aracese, tillandsias, epiphytic cactuses, peperomias, and
gesneras, or with lianas, including bignonias, passifloras
and aristolochias, &c. The Eriodendron saumauma
(which, from its habits, ought to be called Excelsius),
puts forth no branches till it has overtopped every other
tree of the vast Amazonian forests, over which it then
predominates unrivalled. The Siphonia elastica, which
yields caoutchouc, is indigenous in Brazil. That wonder¬
ful product, the coca leaf or ipadu (from the Erythroxy-
lon coca), is obtained from the tropical valleys of the
eastern slope of the Andes. The yerba mate, or Para¬
guay tea, represents in its general use, as it partakes in
its properties, and in the presence in it of theine, the tea
plant of China.
(374.) Extra-tropical America, from the southern tro¬
pic to 40° S., including South Brazil, La Plata, and
Chili, is more especially the region of arborescent compo¬
sites. Its flora exhibits an approach to those of South
Africa and Australia, in the families of protea, polygala,
oxalis, araucaria, and goodenia. That superb tree, the
Araucaria imbricata, which may be also considered as a
valuable fruit tree, is a native of Chili, as ai’e also some
species of arbor vita?. The chief approximation of this
region is European, more than half its genera being com¬
mon to both. The vine and peach are cultivated. The
potato is found wild both in Peru and Chili. The loasa,
a stinging climber, has been introduced into our gardens
from the latter.
(375.) The portion of America south of this, with the
Falkland and other antarctic islands, constitutes another
region, in which the forms of the northern and arctic zones
prevail. A greater number of plants, in Terra del Fuego,
identical with, or nearly allied to those of Britain, occur
here, than in any other part of the southern hemisphere.
Some of the beech trees ai’e peculiarly beautiful. The flora
of the higher mountains is European. Evergreen plants
prevail, and the fuchsia, in winter, presents a singular
spectacle—arborescent, and covered with snow, while still
green, and frequented by humming birds (King.) The
Falkland Isles are treeless, but rich in the vegetation of
the tussac grass and bolax globaria, which forms dense
round balls, or sometimes a dense bushy mass, along the
top of which it is practicable to walk when impenetrable
to the traveller at the ground level. The character of Physical
the antarctic islands, south of these, is one of utter desola- Geography,
tion. In Kerguelen’s Land only eighteen species of
flowering plants exist.
(376.) South Africa has a very peculiar and striking
chai’acter of vegetation. The mesernbryanthemum and
stapelia families are especially abundant, but little con¬
spicuous in comparison with the heaths which there lux¬
uriate in astonishing profusion, as well as the geraniums
and pelargonia. Innumerable bulbous genera and ever¬
lastings clothe the sandy flats and mountain terraces
with beautiful flowers ; and the proteaceae form a rich
and peculiar feature, especially the P. (leucodendron)
argentea, with its silver-silky leaves. The heaths and
proteas are chiefly abundant in the most southern dis¬
tricts. Northward, thorny acacias abound, among which
the “wait-a-bit” (A. detinens) is the traveller’s plague,
with a profusion of aloes and great succulent euphorbias,
which attain a tree-like development. In the desert
plains of Latakoo, Burchell describes scanty plants not
two feet high, with hard woody stems, and two or three
centuries old, which abide their time to put forth a tran¬
sient life on the few and far-between occasions (some¬
times several years asunder) when rain falls. The flora
orf South Africa is connected with that of Australia by
the links of the proteae, restiaceae, iridacese, diosmas, and
others.
(377.) The vegetation of Australia is also exceedingly
peculiar. Taken as a whole, it has been characterized as
the region of eucalypti and epacridaceas, which latter repre¬
sent, in this continent, the heaths of the old world. “Several
entire orders of plants are known only in Australia, and
the genera and species of families which grow elsewhere
assume new and singular forms. Persistent-leaved trees,
with hard, narrow leaves of a sombre, melancholy hue,
are prevalent, and there are whole shadowless forests of
leafless trees, the footstalks of the leaves, dilated and set
edgewise on the stem, supplying their place. Plants in
other countries have glands on the under-side of the
leaves, but in Australia there are glands on both sides,
and the changes of season have no influence on the un¬
varying olive-green of the Australian forests. Even the
grasses are distinguished from those of other countries by'
a remarkable rigidity.”—(Mrs. Somerville.) Among the
Australian forms are many proteaceae. Nearly half the
known species of this order grow in the parallel of Port
Jackson on both coasts. There are 100 species of euca¬
lypti, and 93 leafless acacias. Casuarinas, with long-
jointed, drooping branches, afford the principal timber ;
and the Norfolk Island pine (Eutassa excelsa) is one of
the most superb of trees. The roses of the old world are
replaced by banksias, which are already naturalized in
our gardens.
(378.) New Zealand furnishes another, and the last, of
those botanical regions. Its flora connects itself with
that of Australia, South America, and the Pacific islands.
Out of 1900 or 2000 species of plants it contains, only
730 are flowering ones, and of these, two-thirds are abso¬
lutely peculiar to it. Of the rest, according to Hooker,
193 species are Australian, 89 South American, 60 Euro¬
pean, and 50 antarctic. The Phormium tenax (New Zea¬
land flax) is a very valuable product. 120 ferns, some
arborescent, rising to a height of 40 feet, occur. The
forest trees are peculiar, and furnish excellent timber,
the Kauri pine being one of the most remarkable. One
palm only grows here, the Areca sapida, and, among
flowering trees, the Metrosideros tomentosa is remarkable
for its rich crimson blossoms.
(379.) Marine Vegetation. It would lead us too far to
enter into any particular account of marine botany. Like
630
physical geography.
physical that of the land, it has its regions:-!, ^^rn, 2.
Geography. North Atlantic; 3. Mediterranean; 4. IropicaiAtlant ,
5. Antarctic ; 6. Australian and *ew Zealand ; 7. Indian
Ocean and Red Sea; 8. Japan and Chma Seas, 9.
Pacific. The sargasso, or gulf-weed, forms a mass ot
almost continuous vegetation in the Atlantic covering
260,000 square miles. The Macrocystis pynfeia is o
universal distribution; wherever the sea is exempt fi o
ice it occurs in immense masses, at a mean depth o >
to 9 fathoms. Individual plants attain 700 feet in length.
Fucoideae abound in the higher north latitudes, and cys-
tophora in southern. The lavere of the British seas (as
if to carry out the general resemblance noticed m ait.
375) occur at the Falkland Isles, where also is found the
Durvillaea utilis, “a vegetable cable several hundiet
feet long, and as thick as the human body.
(380.) In depth, according to Professor Forbes, o
great zone lies between the high and low water marks ; a
second (the region of fuci and laminarise), from low-wa er
mark to 7... 15 fethoms. Ordinary algm exist only within
50 fathoms of the surface. In the Mediterranean and
iEgean seas, marine vegetation occurs at the depth ot 1UU
^(SST) Cerealia. Wheat has been lately referred by
M. Fabre, as its origin, to the JEgilops ovata, a native oi
the south of France and the Mediterranean coasts, which
by careful culture he finds to shoot into varieties, and
these again into others more and more nearly resembling
wheat, till, after fifteen or sixteen years, a true wheat
results. The conclusion, however, has been still more
recently more than called in question by Dr Godron, who
considers the case one of hybridation from neighbouring
wheat fields {Jour. R. Agricult. Soc. xix. 108). Wheat
will not yield produce within the tropics at the sea lev el,
at least during the hotter season, though, in the colder
months, it may be grown a few degrees nearer the equa¬
tor. Its northern limit is 58° N. in Britain, 64° N. in
Norway, 00° in Russia, and lower in Siberia. In Chili
and Peru it grows luxuriantly at 8500... 10,000 feet
above the sea. Humboldt saw a wheat plant in Mexico
with 70 stalks, some bearing ears of 100 grains.
Barley can be grown as far north as 70° in Lapland,
and 68° in Siberia ; on the Alps, as high as 3500 feet,
and on the Himalayas, up to 12,000. Rye has its
northern limit in Norway at 67°; in Siberia, perhaps
68. Fraser found large fields of it, and of Buckwheat,
at 11,405 feet, near the temple of Milun, in the Hima¬
laya. Rice can only be cultivated where a high mean
summer temperature (not under 73°), and such an excess
of moisture as actually to flood the fields, combine ; for
which artificial irrigation is almost always resorted to.
In India and China it is the universal food and chief
support of their teeming populations. In Ceylon alone
there are one hundred varieties of rice used, and thirty
of Millet, which is cultivated, for the most part, in
southern and western Asia and north-eastern Africa;
also to some extent in Italy, and even so far north as Bag-
neres de Bigorre, in the Pyrenees, where we have seen it
growing. Maize was brought from America by Colum¬
bus, in 1593, and has since been propagated very exten¬
sively : its colder limit is the isotheral line of 65°.
(382.) Distribution oj Animals.—The distribution of
animals on the earth, like that of plants, is far from being
solely determined by the conditions of a suitable climate
and sufficient food. The evidence of radiation or dis¬
persion from local centres or primary habitats, is of the
same nature, and equally cogent as in the case of plants,
though modified by the locomotive powers of animals.
We find the indigenous Faunas of the Old and New
Worlds, of Australia, and of many islands, separated from
each other by quite as strong lines of demarcation
their Floras; and that not by reason of any peculiarity
rendering the soil or climate of the one unsuited to the
indigenous animals of another. On the contrary, the
animals of one region, when introduced by man into an¬
other not too different in climate, are usually lound to
multiply with extraordinary rapidity. The Pampas of
South America swarm with wild cattle and horses, the
descendants of European breeds. Strayed oxen in Aus¬
tralia have been found multiplied into vast herds ; the
sheep has proved prolific there beyond the most sanguine
hope; and already the song of the nightingale and the
lark has begun to be heard in its woods. _ .
(383.) Another point of resemblance in the distribution
of these two great divisions of organic creation is found
in the fact that, though the species differ, yet many fami¬
lies and genera are represented in the several zoological
regions, even those most independent, by genera and
species, bearing a certain considerable parallelism or re¬
presentative relation to them. rIhus the lion and tigei
of the Old World are represented by the puma and jaguar
of the New, both belonging to the same genus (felis); the
crocodile of the Nile by the cayman of the Orinoco ; and
the seals of the Arctic Ocean by other seals resembling
them in general form and in all their habits, though spe¬
cifically different, in the Antarctic. In the New World
we find, it is true, no pachydermata provided with trunks
like the elephant, but an approach to that form is pre¬
served in the tapirs, of which South America produces
two species, strongly allied in form and habits to the Ma¬
layan tapir, though specifically distinct.. Even in the
Old World we find species distinctly localized, to the mu¬
tual exclusion of each other. Three species out of four
of the African rhinoceros have two horns, the Asiatic
only one. The Asiatic and African elephant are quite
distinct from each other, and both from the Sibeiian ele¬
phant (primigenius), which, though now extinct, evi¬
dently existed there during the geological epoch in which
we are now living. In the inferior forms of animal life we
find examples of a similar and almost staitling kind. In
the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky occur three genera of
eyeless insects (anophthalmus, adelops, and bathyscia),
members of a subterranean fauna, whose common cha¬
racter consists in 5/m(7?iess. And these generic forms aie
found to be reproduced in the limestone caverns of Car-
niola, and that in the case of anophthalmus, with an
approximation almost amounting to specifical identity
(Schiodte Specimen Faunce Subterraneee). We find, too,.cases
of restricted localization quite as marked as any affordec
by the vegetable kingdom. That the chamois and
should be peculiar to the Alps, and the llama to the Coi-
dilleras and high plateaus of the Andes, may not appear
extraordinary wdien the habits of these animals, in keep¬
ing to the loftiest summits, are considered ; but the
limitation of an active insect, well formed for flight
(Glossina morsitans, the Tsetze fly), to a limited district ol
small extent in South Africa, marked out by no apparent
natural boundary, yet so definite, that for a horse to
cross a well-known line is certain death (the trial has
been deliberately made—Livingstone, p. 81, 82), assuredly
does seem very astonishing.
(384.) The great majority of animated beings are con¬
fined to zones of temperature more or less restricted ac¬
cording to their organization, few only (man and those
domestic animals which he has succeeded in acclima¬
tizing) being capable of resisting the two extremes of
temperature. And within these limits, among herbivo¬
rous animals, the botanical limits w'hich restrict the growth
of their habitual food constitutes another boundary,
which may or may not be conterminous with the former,
PHYSICAL GEOGEAPHY.
631
Physical though few animals of higher organization than insects are
!Geography, restricted in their range of food to a single or to a very
few species of plants. The carnivora have, however, in
this respect a wider range, their limit of food being no
other than that placed by the absence of animal life itself.
Thus we find in the neighbourhood of the Baikal lake
both the Fauna and Flora of hot and cold regions inter¬
mixing. At Nertschinsk the wild peach grows near the
dwarf birch, and the tiger and the bear range the same
forests. The former finds his way even to Barnaoul,
crossing the Kirghiz steppes and the Irtisch river for
prey.—(A tlcinson.)
(385.) The total number of species of animated crea¬
tures known to exist in the present state of the world may
be roughly stated at about 155,000, which zoologists have
classed as follows :—
1. Vertebrata, viz.:—
Mammalia, about
Birds,
Reptiles, .
Fishes,
2. Mollusca,
3. Articulata, including insects,
4. Radiata,
Of these the number of existing mammalia may be
considered as pretty accurately known, and of birds with
some approach to certainty. The number of reptile
species, whose habiiat is determined, and of which sci¬
entific descriptions have been published, is set down by
K. Johnston at 657, and 1500 is perhaps a somewhat
large estimate for what may be considered as known rep¬
tiles. The articulated animals, which are all, in common
parlance, classed as worms and insects, are no doubt as
yet but very inadequately known, and such large additions
to them are yearly made, that it is very likely the real
number may be double of that set down. As for the last
class, comprehending, as it does, the countless multitudes
of infusoria and polypes, the number here assigned is
doubtless a most inadequate one. In stating the species
of existing animated organisms at 200,000 we are pro¬
bably within the mark, and if fossil species be included,
even this large number may perhaps be doubled.
(386.) It will be impossible, within the limits of this
article, to do more than indicate some of the leading facts
relative to the distribution of the more interesting to man
among these classes of animated beings. Of these the
Mammalia claim the first place. They are divided by
naturalists into eight orders : Quadrumana, Marsupialia,
Edentata, Pachydermata, Carnivora, Rodentia, Rumi-
nantia, and Cetacea. The Quadrumana (apes, monkeys,
baboons, gibbons, &c.) are divided between the Old and
New World in the proportion of 14 genera and 111 spe¬
cies in the former, to 9 genera and 91 species in the latter,
none of the genera being common to both. They are all
tropical animals, the great majority being denizens of the
torrid zone. One species only, the Barbary ape, is found
in Europe (Gibraltar), one only so far north in East Asia
as the Isle of Niphon, in lat. 38° ; two south of the Orange
River, in South Africa, while, in South America, a few
extend as far as 38° S. Australia possesses none. The
small monkeys, called makis, or Prosimim (the lemurs,
lorises, &c.), are chiefly natives of Madagascar and the
'leighbouring Mozambique coasts. The ourang-outang is
a native of Sumatra and Borneo, and its African con¬
gener, the chimpanzee, the most gentle, human, and in-
Species.
1,700
6,000
1,500
6,000
15,200
10,000
120,000
10,000
155,200
telligent of them all, inhabits the forests of south-western Physical
Africa between Cape Negro and the Gambia. The brown Oleography,
monkeys of the New World (the sapajous and sajuans)
are, for the most part, smaller and less ferocious than the .
Simias of the Old, and differ from them in their system
of dentition and the absence of cheek-pouches. Their
chief habitat is in the forests of Brazil and Guiana.
(387.) The Marsupials (or those which carry their
young in pouches, including the opossums, kangaroos,
wombats, phalangers, &c.) constitute 14 genera, including
123 species. Of these only one genus, the opossum, is
found in America, distributed, in 21 species, over the
whole continent, from Canada to 36° S. All the other
genera belong exclusively to Australia, Van Diemen’s
Land, and the islands of the Asiatic archipelago as far as
Java. In Australia they constitute an immense majority
of the mammalian species, in which, with this exception,
that singular continent is exceedingly poor. In the islands
of the archipelago only seven species are enumerated,
among which one kangaroo is said to occur (in Java). In
no other part of the Old World are any marsupial animals
belonging to this class found living; and if we would seek for
indications of them, singularly enough it is in the fossil re¬
mains in the oolites of the south of England, the antipodes
of the region which they now almost exclusively possess.
(388.) The genera of edentata, or toothless animals
(the sloths, armadillos, ant-eaters, manises, &c.), eight in
number, are equally distributed between the Americas
and the rest of the world; the former, however, being
richer in species in the proportion of 20 to 8. The sloths
live entirely in trees, chiefly in the Brazilian forests ; the
armadillos range through Central and Southern Ame¬
rica, as far as the 43d degree of S. lat. That rare and
most curiously formed little animal, the chlamyphorus,
is found only in the provinces of Cuyos, in Mendoza-—
{Sir W. Parish.) The ant-eaters (myrmecophagi) extend
no farther south than Buenos Ayres (of which the largest
is the M. jubatus, remarkable for his enormous mane).
Among the Asiatic and African edentata, the manises,
or scaly ant-eaters, have the widest range, being found
in Senegal, North-east India, and the Eastern and South¬
ern Asiatic isles. Australia possesses two genera, the
echidna or porcupine ant-eater, and that most extraordi¬
nary animal, the ornithorhynchus paradoxus; the only
mammal which lays an egg. It is found in the Murrum-
bidgi and other rivers in S.E. Australia.
(389.) Of the 39 species of pachydermata, arranged in
9 genera, none are Australian, one only (the wild boar)
European. The elephant is limited to Southern Asia,
Scythia, the Archipelago, and Central and Southern
Africa; the hippopotamus is exclusively African; the
rhinoceros conterminous, or nearly so, with the elephant.
The swine and the horse (including the wild ass and
zebra) are the most numerous in species of this class,
nine species of the former being scattered over Europe,
and Asia, three (the wart-hogs) in Africa, and two (pec¬
caries), being South American representatives of this fa¬
mily. The wild ass frequents the deserts and high pla¬
teaus of Asia, and the zebra is exclusively African. The
tapirs have been already noticed.
(390.) The carnivora form a very large class, con¬
sisting of 514 species, arranged in 61 genera, and di¬
vided, by strong natural characteristic distinctions, into
five families, viz., the digitigrades, or those clawed beasts
of prey, which spring and leap on their prey, and
which comprehend, as cats (feles), the lion, tiger, leo¬
pard, panther, &c. ; and as dogs (canes) the wolf, fox,
&c., and which comprise the most active and formi¬
dable. The jdantigrades, as bears, badgers, racoons, &o.,
which use the whole lower joint of the leg as their
632
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
3
26
9
7
Physical support, and (in the bear) stand often eiect on ^ ^
Geography. broai(} basis. The insectivorous (hedgehogs, moles,
  r ' mice, &c.), a family little formidable : the flying cats
small family confined to tropical Asia: and the ba .
We find by far the majority of species, and, ™ ex¬
ception of the bears and wolves, all the larger and most
formidable ones, confined to the tropical countries. I ns
is so marked, that, if we divide the world ^to austrab
tropical, north temperate, and arctic (understanding y
austral the extreme South America, from 40 k., wit
Australia and its connected islands), wre sha n
mean density of species inhabiting each of these seriatim, to
stand in proportion nearly as follows, viz.:
Austral, 
Tropical, . . • • •
North Temperate,
Arctic ••••**
The disproportion in the southern division would be
still treater were it not for the comparative y arge pio
portion of bats found in the Australian and Oceanic islands,
the greater number of which, however, it should be ob¬
served, belong to the “ frugiverous ” bats, which only by
courtesy of structure belong to the carnivora.
(391.) Among animals of this class a few only can here
be specially noticed. The lion is found over all Africa,
Eo-ypt and the Libyan Desert excepted ; and in Asia,
only in the districts bordering on the Euphrates, in 1 er-
sia, and the jungles of India. The tiger, whose migrations,
as we have seen, take a wide, extratropical range, has its
chief habitat in the forests and jungles of Bengal, the
southern mainland of Asia, Java, and Sumatra. The puma
ranges over both Americas, from 50° N. to 53° S.; the
jaguar is principally found in Brazil and Paraguay. Ihe
wolf, though now nearly driven out of the more populous
portions of Europe, is indigenous (with its American con¬
geners) over the whole northern hemisphere, from the
arctic latitudes down to the tropical ones.. The bear is
largest and most formidable within the arctic circle, as the
white or polar bear, and in the North American forests,
as the grisly bear of the Rocky Mountains and Western
Savannahs. Within the tropics their species are not nu¬
merous, and in the austral region none occur ; neither is
any species of the insectivora native in these regions,
though otherwise pretty equally distributed over all the
others. The bats are chiefly tropical, 5o species occuning
in the tropical region of America, 41 in that of Afiica,
and 67 in that of Asia. Of these the only formidable one
is the vampire, a W^est Indian and South American spe¬
cies, which sucks the blood of animals during sleep, and
occasionally of man. The immense numbers of the bat
tribe, which suspend themselves, head downwards, in
caves in tropical regions ; and, when disturbed, rush forth,
rendering the darkness hideous with their ill-omened flap¬
pings ; are always dwelt on with peculiar emphasis by
those who have visited such scenes.
(392.) The Rodentia, though a very numerous class, will
not detain us long. They consist of, 1. Sciuridce; 2.
Muridce; 3. Hystricidce; 4. Leporidce, or animals allied to
the squirrel, mouse, porcupine, and hare, divided as fol¬
lows :—
Genera. Species.
Sciuridse, . . 14 . . 169
Muridae, . . 47 . • 396
Hystricidae, . . 30 . . 99
Leporidae, . . 2 . . 46
Of these genera 44 belong exclusively to America, and 5 Physical
exclusively to Australia (the total number of Australian
species being only 21, and those confined entirely to the
muridm). Excluding these, the mean density of species in
the temperate to that in the tropical regions of the globe
is the ratio of 16: 19.1 2
(393.) Among the rodentia the most remarkable are
the beavers and the porcupines. The former (classed by
a rather strained analogy among the squirrels) are repre¬
sented in North America by the genus Castor, in Europe
by Fiber. This latter form of beaver, within the records
of history, inhabited Britain. Of the porcupines, 77 spe¬
cies belong to America, and only 6 to the Old World.
The common porcupine is a native of south Europe: we
remember to have picked up the quill of one, which
seemed to have freshly dropped from the animal, in the
immediate neighbourhood of Rome. The flying squirrels
are natives of the Malayan peninsula and Java.
(394.) Of all the mammalia, and, indeed, of the whole
animal creation, the Ruminantia are the most important to
man. Of these there are 8 genera and 180 species, di¬
vided by Mr Waterhouse as follows :—
Camels,
Llamas,
Musk Deer,
Deer,
Giraffes,
Antelopes,
Goats,
Sheep,
Oxen,
Species.
2
3
7
51
2
48
20
27
20
Old World.
2
0
7
37
2
47
18
25
18
New World.
0
3
0
14
0
1
2
2
2
Of camels, the African and Asiatic (or Bactrian) are dis¬
tinguished by having respectively one. and two humps.
Both inhabit arid regions, and are singularly provided
with an additional stomach for the retention and convey¬
ance of water in their long wanderings in dry places. I he
llama was the only beast of burthen known in Peru .in
the time of the Incas. It is the American representative
of the camel, and has no hump. It is described as the
“ characteristic quadruped of Patagonia ” by Mr Darwin.
Amon" deer, the rein-deer is by far the most important,
as an animal of wonderful endurance, speed, and docility
—the special gift of Providence, as it would seem, to the
inhabitants of the regions bordering on the arctic, circle.
The camelopard is exclusively African ; and of its two
species, the one belongs to North, the other to south
Africa. The antelope also, though represented in Europe
by the chamois, in America by the prongbuck, and in
Asia by eleven other species, is yet, par excellence, an
African animal, both in respect of the number of the spe¬
cies, and of the countless multitudes of individuals whic ,
in their migrations in search of water, are described as
covering the whole surface of extensive tracts of country
like the waves of the sea. Among the goats, the ibex
frequents the loftier regions of the Swiss. Alps. I*16
Asiatic species frequent the Taurus mountains and Kam-
schatka. The sheep, domesticated in Europe, would ap¬
pear to be traceable to Western Asia, where, as well
as in Africa, the wild species frequent the more inacces¬
sible mountain districts. Of the two American species,
the argoli of the Rocky Mountains is remarkable for
the enormous horns of the ram. Among oxen, the South
African buffalo is wild and ferocious, the Indian d.omes-
  ticable. The American congener, the bison, exists in im-
620 mense herds on the ncrth-western American prairies,
1 This estimate is founded on the enumeration of species in particular districtsrgiven in the Physical Atlas, and is so framed as to be,
as far as possible, independent of overlapping. • • ^
2 These numbers are concluded from Mr Waterhouse’s statement of the number of species in the JrhysieaL Atlas.
93
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical from California to 60° N., a huge, ugly, and terrible ani-
^eograp^. ^jie very type of blind brute force. It is in rapid
process of extermination. The musk-ox is the only con¬
siderable ruminant of the arctic region of America. Aus¬
tralia produces no ruminant animal.
(395.) The Cetacea are a very peculiar class, numbering
among them many forms which never leave the water, and
have the external aspect and general attributes of fishes,
as the whales, the cachalots, and the narwhals (balamas,
physeters, and delphinidse), as well as the lamantin of the
Orinoco, the dugong, and the porpoises, but they also
comprehend two genera of animals, bearing little resem¬
blance to fishes, and which are properly amphibious—
the seal (phoca), and walrus or morse (trichecus), the lat¬
ter of which is exclusively confined to the polar seas, un¬
less drifted southwards on floating ice. The former has
a considerably wider range ; sometimes reaching the Ork¬
neys and Hebrides, and even the Isle of Wight, where,
within our own recollection, a specimen has been captured
in Freshwater Bay.
(396.) Distribution of Birds.—Six thousand species of
birds are said to exist in the Museum of Berlin alone, but
of those which are accurately described and classified, and
of which the habitat is satisfactorily known, the number
is much smaller. Not much above half that number are
enumerated as such by Mr K. Johnston, and of these the
mean densities of species in the several great divisions of
the globe, concluded from the data of his enumerations,
are, in proportion to each other, as follows, viz.:—
Europe, . . . . . .15
Asia, ....... 5
Africa, ...... 6
America, ...... 6
Australia and Oceanica, ... 4
As regai-ds the mean density of species, then, we see that,
of these divisions, Europe far exceeds any of the others.
As is the case with the mammalia, the mean density of
species increases on approaching the equator. The dis¬
tribution in zones of temperature, calculated on the same
principle as before adopted, will give for the several zones
the following proportions :—
Northern Frigid Zone, .... 3
Northern Temperate do., ... 8
Northern Warm do., .... 5
Tropical do., . . . . .11
Southern Warm do., .... 5
Southern Cold do., .... 1
Where the abundance of European species is again ap¬
parent is the disproportionate percentage of the northern
temperate zone, which here includes the whole of Europe.
In this statistical view, the habitat of the migratory birds
is assumed to be that in which they settle during their
breeding season. Wide as the range would seem to be
■which the power of flight gives to birds, they appear to
be retained to particular regions, independent of tempera¬
ture, chiefly, no doubt, by the condition of their finding
their appropriate insect and vegetable food; but partly also
by local association of another kind, which seems to be
strong in this class of animals ; since we find instances of
migratory birds identified as returning to the same spots
for breeding in successive seasons.
(397.) The paucity of species in the arctic regions, both
north and south, is compensated, especially in the former,
by the multitude of individuals, which, mostly living on
fish or other marine products, find there abundant food.
Thus we find that even in so extreme a latitude as
80° 17' N., at Cape Andrew Jackson, Dr Kane report-
ing, that “ never had they seen the birds so numerous.
VOL. XVII
The water was absolutely black with dovekies, and the Physical
rocks crowded” with these and with ivory gulls, molle- Geography,
mokes, eider-ducks, brent-geese, &c. In 71° 56' S. on
Possession Island, in like manner we find the penguins
assembled in countless multitudes, and fringing every ledge
of rock.
(398.) Birds are divided into the orders of Rapaces
(birds of prey), Scansores(climbers), Oscines (singing birds
and perchers, including the humming-birds), Gallinacem
(poultry), Grallatores (waders and long-legged birds), and
Natatores (swimmers). Of rapacious birds, the eagle is
the noblest. The golden eagle inhabits the higher grounds
of Central and Southern Europe, extending his range
across the Crimea to the Caucasus, and being also&a
denizen of the Scotch and Scandinavian mountains. The
condor, the largest of vultures (spanning 15 feet across the
wings), soars far above the highest peaks of the South
American Andes, but never crosses the isthmus to the
northern range. The albatros disdains the land, and
sleeps on the wing over the widest extratropical oceans,
above which he seldom rises to any great height. Swan¬
like in apparent size, his wings extend 10 or 11 feet. The
vulture of the Old World is a native of Africa and India,
and sometimes visits Sardinia.
(399.) Among the climbers, the most beautiful and in¬
teresting are the parrots, cockatoos, and lories. They are
chiefly tropical, but in South America range to the extre¬
mity of the continent, and are abundant in Australia.
Birds of paradise are found exclusively in New Guinea
and the neighbouring islands, with the Moluccas and Aroo
islands. Toucans are confined to the tropical region of
South America. The tropical region of Africa is poor in
climbers, the species being to those in the corresponding
region of America only as 21 to 122, or about as 1 to 6.
(400.) In the number and variety of its singing birds,
Europe stands pre-eminent—110 species are especially so
characterized; and the total number of birds of this order
in Europe is 186. The nightingale (of which there are
nine European species) sings, in England, nowhere north
of the Tees and nowhere west of Exeter. Whatever the
richness of European bird-song, however, North America
can produce its single mockbird, the very embodied spirit
of woodland melody (a native of Louisiana and Carolina),
which, besides possessing an unrivalled song proper to it¬
self, imitates in perfection, and even surpasses, that of
every other species. The humming-birds also belong to
this order. They are chiefly restricted to tropical America,
but a few species range very widely. One has even been
found on the shore of Behring’s Straits, in 61° N., and
others in Terra del Fuego, flying about in a snow-storm;
so that, so far as climate goes, there is no reason why
they should not be naturalized in Europe. In the Cape
Colony they are represented by the “ Sugar-birds.”—
(Certhia).
(401.) Of Gallinaceous birds, the peacock is a native of
India; the pheasant is indigenous through Asia, from the
Caucasus to Sumatra. That beautiful bird, the Argus
pheasant, is a native of China, and the lyre-bird, the most
elegant of the whole order, is the Australian representa¬
tive of the pheasant family. The turkey, in its wild state,
is peculiar to North-west America. The pigeon family is
equally indigenous, both in the Old and New World,
there being 6 European and 8 American species. They
are found in countless myriads in the North American
forests, where, in congregating to roost, they cover every
tree, over large tracts, to crowding, and even break
down great limbs by their weight, producing all the havoc
of a storm. Flocks, consisting of millions, pass, twice in
the year, over Canada and the northern states in their mi¬
grations north and southward. The dodo, a large galli-
4 L
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
634
Physical naceous bird of Madagascar, which has become^tmct
Geography. within the memory of man, is considere ’ pigeon,
ture 0f some of its hones, to have been a gi0ant 1 0 ?
So heavy for 0„. flights, and thus, as in asimdar case
S the We of B0Odrig„ez’ (that of the solitaire), to have
f‘ll(402 ) The order gralhlores or waders, besides storks,
flamingoes, herons, /c., which really wade is made to ke
in many long-legged birds which freqnent *he P‘ac“he
the earth, as the ostrich, the emu, the c“:'s;0" a .y- D'resent
two-toed ostrich, the largest existing bird, is at p >
Zly coated t’o Africa,gin the World, being how-
ever, represented in South America by the three-toed ostncl
Suri oAuju (Rhea). Though unable to fly, its win s a
sistitin running, in which it is the fleetest of animate,
ancient times, its range extended through Asm Mmo^
Persia, and South Asia, to the farthest East, but it has
become exterminated except in Arabia. The c«s^w^
which has hair for feathers, inhabits south-east Asia and
the Indian archipelago, as far as New Guinea. The em
(remarkable for its long, narrow double feather affords
another instance of the singular bizarrenes of Australian
organization, as does also the Deinornis of New Zealand
which should it be (as is barely possible) not yet entire y
extinct in the unknown interior of the Australian conti¬
nent, must take the precedence of the ostrich as the gian
of living birds, its skeleton standing 11 feet in heig it. .
(403.) To the swimming birds belong the swan (w ic i
in Australia is black), the pelican, the eider-duck, and the
peno-uin, besides innumerable geese, ducks, &c., wine i
people the colder lakes and sea shores of Arctic Asia and
of Northern America. Of 112 European species, 44 be¬
long to this family, and 33 to the gulls. The pelican is
a native of Eastern Europe, and is not uncommon on the
Danube, and very common in Africa, in the tropical
islands of Asia, at Siam, and in China. It occurs also,
very widely diffused, in North America, and even .in
South Australia, so that it is one of the most widely dis¬
tributed of birds. The eider-duck is exclusively confined
to the northern seas, though it has been known to breed
as low as the coast of Northumberland. The penguin, on
the other hand, haunts the desolate islands of the South
Seas, the Straits of Magellan, and the Falkland Isles,
and is unknown in the northern hemisphere.
(404.) Distribution of Reptiles.—Of the 1000 or 1500
species known to exist, those described and well ascei-
tained as to habitat amount to 657, divided into families
and genera as below, viz.—
Families.
Testudines (tortoises),
Sauria (lizards),
Ophidia (serpents),
Batrachia (frogs),
Genera.
3
9
9
5
Species.
69
203
265
120
And the proportions (in respect of the mean densities of
species) in which these are distributed over the great divi¬
sions of the globe, and the zones of temperature are these,
viz.—
Europe,
Asia,
Africa,
America,
Australia and Oceanica,
And in zones, in the proportions {inter se) of the num
hers:—
Temperate,
Tropical,
Austral,
11
29
2
It is chiefly to the forests and swamps of Brazil and Gui- Physical
ana, which swarm with reptile life, that the marked dis-
proportion between America and the other divisions of the
!rlobe is owing. The tortoises (including the turtles) are
almost entirely tropical, very few land species existing
anywhere beyond 30° or 40° of latitude, and the turtles
frequenting only the tropical seas. The alligators or cay¬
mans occupy tropical America, frequenting the rivers from
30° south to 32° north. Of these, some species during
the dry season bury themselves in mud, and remain en¬
crusted and torpid till the first rains, when they at once
start up, shake off their crust, and rush down to the first
indication of a stream. Humboldt was, one rainy night,
surprised by such a resurrection of one, over wTose dor¬
mitory he had unknowingly made his own.. The true
crocodile is African and Syrian, and is found in the Nile
and in all the rivers of tropical Africa, as well as the Eu¬
phrates. The gavial infests the Ganges. Chameleons
abound in Africa, both north and south, and are even
found occasionally in Spain and Italy. The iguana is
eaten in the West Indies and in Central Africa (Living¬
stone)), and considered very delicate food. Among the
fro^s, the most remarkable seem to be a species, called
Matlametlo, described by Dr Livingstone as inhabiting
the Kalahari district of South Africa; whose instincts, like
that of the cayman above mentioned, excite him from
torpor on the first symptom of rain, and one of which fur¬
nishes an excellent repast. In the case of the Surinam
toad or pipal, the female hatches her eggs on her back,
the youno1 from which, when produced, bury themselves
in her skin, and there undergo their transformations.
This toad is 8 inches, and the bufo agua of Brazil 10 or
12 in length. , Kq
(405.) Of 265 known species of serpents, only oo are
venomous. The serpents of America are, without ex¬
ception, specifically different from those ofthe Old World;
and in the latter, they are entirely absent in all the Bacihc
islands, while in those of the Indian archipelago they
abound, though with singular and capricious exceptions.
Thus in Java 56 species occur, in Borneo not one ; in
Australia 10, 7 of which are venomous. 01 6 species
found in Japan, none exist elsewhere. In no class oi
animated beings is the localization of species so marked.
In general, however, in common with nearly all others,
the abundance of species increases with proximity to the
equator. Sea serpents, of which 7 species are known, all
venomous, are found only in the Indian Ocean, an ie
seas ofthe Indian and Oceanic Archipelago. As regards
particular and remarkable serpents, the rattle-snake (Oro-
talus horridus) is North American, where it represents
the European viper. The cobra-capello, or hooded snake
(the dancing snake of the Indian jugglers) is common
everywhere, from Malabar to Sumatra. The boas are pe¬
culiar to the tropical forests of South America ; their re¬
presentatives in the Old World, the pythons (one species
of which attains 20 feet in length) range over North Atnca,
through tropical Asia, to China and Japan. . Ibis sna. e
(which is not venomous) is probably that which 11S®
to the extravagant exaggeration, in the accounts handed
down to us, of Regulus’s invasion of Africa. ^ Lucan, s de¬
scription ofthe serpents which annoyed Cato’s army is not
less extravagant. Africa, in fact, as regards species, is
not comparatively rich in serpents.
(406.) Distribution of Fishes, Molluscs, and the Loner
Aquatic Organisms.—The habitat of Fishes, like that oi
land animals, is necessarily limited by the condition ol
their supply of appropriate food, as well as. by that of an
appropriate temperature, which for them is that of the
surface water, since very few' fishes are capable of sus¬
taining the pressure of a greater depth of water than a
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical 100 or 150 fathoms, and in these the air-bladder is either
Geography, entirely absent or in an imperfect or rudimentary state of
development, such an apparatus being useless under the
heavy pressure of 20 or 30 atmospheres. The way in
which surface temperature may set a limit to the excur¬
sions of marine animals, even those of the widest range, is
curiously exemplified in the case of the whale. The “ right
whale ” (Bahama mysticetus), according to Lieutenant
Maurjr, is incapable of crossing the equator, and the
whales of this class taken in the Southern Ocean are spe¬
cifically different from those of the Arctic and North Seas.
Yet, as we have seen (art. 49), the temperature of the
tropical seas is superficial, and at a depth of two or three
thousand feet would be so much mitigated, that but for
the necessity of rising to the surface for air, which is com¬
mon to all cetacea, there is no reason why he might not
pass, since the whale habitually plunges down to immense
depths, and seems quite unaffected by a pressure sufficient
to “ waterlog ” the wood used in constructing whaling
boats.
(407.) The ultimate food of such fishes as do not prey on
one another is either the soft parts of marine vegetables, or
such animal organisms of inferior orders as either draw
their food from these, or extract i t chem ically from the water.
Such are, of course, far more abundant, or at least more
varied, in the neighbourhood of the shores, or upon shoals
affording marine vegetation, or the estuaries of rivers bear¬
ing supplies from the land; and it is therefore to the vici¬
nity of these that a very large portion of fishes is confined.
The widest oceans, it is true, abound in organic life at and
near their surfaces. Even in very cold latitudes countless
millions of creatures of the genus Beroe exist, and others of
a larger size, medusa? (or jelly fish), zoophites, &c., swarm
to such an extent, as to convert the surface water in some
places almost into a kind of soup, which furnishes food
not merely to small fish but to cetacea? of the largest
growth; and in tropical regions the sea teems with minute
forms of animal life in infinite variety—small mollusca,
Crustacea, and luminous creatures, as salpa?, pyroso-
mas, &c., many of them gelatinous; and where the
sea is covered with floating weeds, these become the
haunts of a numerous population of species, crabs, sea-
slugs, &c., peculiar to them. Thus, whatever be the dis¬
tance from shore, food is not wanting for such fish as are
fitted for its assimilation, and the fish of prey (as is also
the case with land animals) are confined by no limits but
those which temperature sets to their range.
(408.) The cetacea are not properly fishes, but belong
to the class of mammalia ; and inasmuch as many of them
breathe air, and are obliged to come to the surface for its
renewal, border on, and, in the cases of the seals and
walrus, really are amphibia; in those of the lamantin and
dugong, nearly such (art. 395). The larger whales, as a
family, have a very wide range, and some of the species
are found in almost every sea. The Balsena mysticetus,
as we have seen, does not appear between the tropics, nor
does the narwhal, which is specially arctic. The Rorqual
(which furnishes whalebone, and is said to attain 100 feet
in length) is a denizen of high latitudes (70°—80° N.)
The Cachalot (Physeter macrocephalus), on the other
hand, does not visit the colder seas, but wanders over the
whole of the temperate and torrid ocean, affecting always
the central and deepest parts. The grampus, porpoise,
and dolphin occur in almost every sea.
(409.) Among fishes of prey, the sharks, though not
confined to the tropical seas, are there by far most abun¬
dant. Some occasionally visit our own seas. The largest
of the family (Squalus maximus), the Basking Shark,
visits pretty high latitudes. It has been seen off the
north-west coast of Scotland, where it has been taken for
635
the “ sea serpent.” It attains 50 or even 60 feet in length, Physical
and one of the former size was lately taken at Kuraci, at Geography,
the mouth of the Indus. Happily its voracity is not in
proportion to its size, as it lives chiefly on medusae and
sea-slugs, small fishes, &c.
(410.) The localization of those fish which live near
the shore, and furnish the principal part of the marine
contribution to human food, is often very limited, and we
find almost as many littoral “ provinces ” of fish as there
are lines of coast characterized by some common feature
either of soil, rivers, or climate. In general it may be
noted as a universal feature that the colder waters furnish
those species best fitted for food, and that even in the
same species the individuals taken in cold waters are far
superior in flavour and nutritious quality to those in
warmer seas. According to Lieutenant Maury, the ex¬
cellent fish with which the Atlantic cities of the United
States are supplied owe all their value to the stream of
cold water which sets down the coast out of Baffin’s and
Hudson’s Bay, between it and the Gulf Stream (art. 55.)
“ The 4 Sheep’s-head ’ (? species), so much esteemed in
Virginia and the Carolinas, when taken on the warm coral
banks of the Bahamas, loses all its flavour, and is held in
no esteem. The same is the case with other fish. When
taken in the cold water of that coast they have a delicious
flavour, and are highly esteemed ; but when taken in the
Avarm Avater on the other edge of the Gulf Stream, though
but a few miles distant, their flesh is soft, and unfit for
table.” 44 A current of cold water from the south sweeps
the shores of Chili, Peru, and Columbia, and reaches the
Gallapagos Islands under the line ” (art. 64.) 44 Through¬
out this whole distance the world does not afford a moi'e
abundant or more excellent supply of fish. Yet, out in
the Pacific, at the Society Islands, where coral abounds
and the Avater presents a higher temperature, the fish,
though they vie in gorgeousness of colouring with the
birds, plants, and insects of the tropics, are held in no
esteem as an article of food. I have known sailors, even
after long voyages, still prefer their salt beef and pork to
a mess of fish taken there ” (Phys. Geog.of the Sea, p. 55.)
(411.) The phenomenon of coloration referred to in the
last sentences of the above extract is a general one. The
arctic and northern fishes have little colour, and as the
zones of temperature ascend in the scale towards the
equator, the species, not only of fishes, but of all marine
animals in all seas, become more highly and more
variously coloured. The brilliancy of colour of the fishes,
shells, and sea-weeds of tropical, and especially of the
Indian and the Caribbean Seas, is spoken of with admira¬
tion by every voyager, and is enhanced by the purity of
the water in those bays and recesses which are kept clean
and scoured by the indraft of currents from the deep
ocean.
(412.) A bare enumeration of the several “littoral
provinces ” of marine life (and our limits Avould allow
little more) would be of small interest, and it will suffice
to observe that, Avith exception of arctic forms, which
have a common origin in the polar seas, and are, there¬
fore, propagated downwards in both oceans, scarcely any
forms of littoral marine life are specifically identical in the
Atlantic and the Pacific, and that even on opposite sides
of the Atlantic itself but few species are common to both.
f413.) Of migratory fish, some resort to rivers to
spawn. The principal of these is the salmon, Avhich is
found in most of the rivers of cool temperate coasts
doAvn to the 45th degree of latitude; and so definite are
the habits of the fish in this respect, that in adjacent
rivers, on theN.W. coast of Ireland, abounding in salmon,
the fish of each river are known to the fishers by some
peculiarity sufficient to ground a recognized claim on the
636 PHYSICAL G
Phv»iciJ part of one proprietor to fish accidentally
Geography, precincts of another. On the other hand, such fish as
migrate seaward, as the cod, the herring, and the inlchard,
appear to be driven southward by the “Id of wtnter or
by the failure of their food result,ng from 'htffld descend
in immense shoals, and at fixed Pf™'33’
Thus the cod arrives annually on the bank and
land alonw the cold current inside the Gull btieam, an
also in the°North Sea, descending by the coast of Norway
f„ February to the Dogger Bank in shoals so dense Orat
the sounding-line can hardly pass between them The
herring also visits our coasts in winter, its migrations
beino- very definitely limited to water of a certain precise
temperature, a circumstance which, taken
with the fluctuations known to exist from year 7
rhe limits of the Gulf Stream, and the ™rface-d"ft
currents from the S.W. (art. 55), may 9“v« ‘o “Plmn
the seemingly capricious desertion of c^‘“nJ®ya ance
haunts of these fish in some years, and their appearanc
in others not previously frequented by them.
(414.) About 853 species of European fishes have been
described, of which 643 are marine, 210 live entirely m
fresh water, and 60 of the marine species resort to ftesh
water to spawn. Of the marine species 444 inhabit the
Mediterranean, 216 are found off the British coasts, and
171 are peculiar to the Scandinavian seas.
(415.) It would be wrong, in speaking offish, to omit
all mention of that remarkable and very curious power
manifested only in this class of animated beings-the
power of giving forth a voluntary electric shock. Ihis
is possessed by several distinct species: among sea-fish,
by the torpedos, four species of which are found in the
Mediterranean, and others in the Indian seas. They
occur also in Table Bay at the Cape of Good Hope The
Isle de Rhe, on the French coast, is remarkable for the fre¬
quency of the occurrence of one species. The Gymno-
tus electricus, whose shocks are most formidable, and
even dangerous, is a species of eel which inhabits the
Orinoco, but is more common in pools and marshes on
the eastern bank of that river. It is also found in other
rivers of the eastern part of South America; and Hum¬
boldt calculates that each square league of the Pianos de
Caracas contains two or three ponds filled with these crea¬
tures. It is caught also in Guiana.
(416.) The distribution of the marine mollusca and
other animals of the invertebrate classes is very Power“
fully influenced by the element of vertical depth. In
that of vegetable life we have seen how increase of alti¬
tude in the air acts with all the influence of increased
latitude, as bringing the plant into a colder region ; but
the influence of depth in marine life is one of a quite
different kind. As regards temperature, no doubt the
water in the shallow sea-bords is subject to diurnal and
annual fluctuations of temperature to a considerable ex-
tent, though much less than the air, and this affords a
condition of existence which cannot but be very influen¬
tial in determining the species which can exist at the ex¬
treme borders of the sea. But the amount of this fluctua¬
tion diminishes very rapidly with the depth. Not so,
however, another very important element of all life, \iz.,
light. The light w’hich penetrates to great depths is not
merely much less in quantity, but very different in its
photo-chemical qualities, from the entire solar light of the
surface, and this, though at present we are ignorant of the
mode and laws of its agency on the animal economy, we
are very sure is an element of exceeding importance. rIhe
food, &c., afforded by submarine vegetation is different—
the texture and constitution also of the sea-bed, as con¬
sisting of finer particles carried out far to sea, affects its
quality as a nidus for habitation; so that we find the
eography.
zones of habitable depth in the water to succeed one an- Jhyricjd
other with far greater rapidity, and to be confined within (gj,
far narrower limits than those of atmospheric altitude on
^Tl’l?.) Professor E. Forbes, to whose researches we owe
a very large portion of our knowledge of this part of
natural history, has discriminated the zones of depth
affected by marine animals into, ls£, Littoral, between
hiodi and low water-marks—a zone which might, a priori,
be°expected to be very strongly characterized, as we find
it to be, by species capable either of maintaining an active
existence in air as well as water, such as crustaceous
animals, crabs, &c., of various families, or of such testacea
and shell-less animals as close themselves up, or seal them¬
selves hermetically on the rocks, and remain dormant
during the recess of the water, of which the patellas,
mytili, littorinas, purpuras, &c., and, among the zoo-
phites, the common sea anemone, afford examples:
2d The “circumlittoral zone,” with a depth fiom low-
water mark to about 15 fathoms. 3d. The “median
zone,” from 15 to 50 fathoms. 4th. The “ infra-median;
and, oth. The “ abyssal zone,” the former from o0 to 100
fathoms, the latter from thence to the lowest depth at
which life is possible, which in some of the minuter forms
would seem to include almost the lowest deeps that the
sounding-line has reached (see art. 118). Each of these
zones is characterized by species which belong to no other,
and each passes into the other by the intermixture of
species common to several. It would carry us quite be¬
yond our limits to enumerate these, and without specific
detail the mere enumeration would afford no instruction.
Suffice it to observe, that in these, as in other depart¬
ments, proximity to the tropics carries with it increase m
the number and variety of species and gene™, grater de¬
velopment in size, form, and colour. Ihe shells of the
Indian Seas, and the Eastern Archipelago in particular,
are prized not merely by the zoologist as illustrative o
animal organization, but by collectors tor their exceeding
beauty, brilliancy of colour, and elegance of form. It is
in these seas also that the pearl fisheries are conducted,
the true pearl oyster being confined to them, though pearls
of inferior quality are produced also by certain species o
mytilus; and Suetonius has recorded that Csefcai s fi s
idea of invading Britain arose from the report of peails
beino- found on its coasts (Britammmpetnsse spe viargan-
tarum). The depth, moreover, has quite as marked in¬
fluence on the colour of shells as the warmth of he water
on the flavour of fish. Below the level where light can
penetrate copiously, the colours of shells wax faint and
dilute, and even individuals of the same species taken at
different depths exhibit a marked difference in then in¬
tensity of colour. The circumlittoral zone, it may be
generally observed, is that of the reef-building corals
(art. 87), of star-fishes, sea-urchins (Echini), and cutt e-
fishes—the medial of sponges, corallines—the infra-medial
of the deep-sea corals—and, in particular, of the valued
red corals of the Mediterranean. As respects all the zones,
also, it is remarked by Professor Forbes, that as we de¬
scend, the regions of depth characterized by the same
species become of greater extent, and the range oj species
(in a horizontal direction) wider.
(418.) Distribution of Insects.—All nature seems o
swarm with insect life ; but here, as in all departments of
natural history, we find fewer species inhabiting the colder
regions ; and their maximum of development, both in
variety, richness of ornament, and what may.be
intensity of quality, is found in the hottest countries. 1 here
it is that the greatest singularity of form and habit, the
greatest pungency of bite, and every other mode of insect
annoyance, are found in perfection. The only exception
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
637
Physical seems to be in the case of coleopterous insects, which are
Geography,, specifically more abundant in temperate climates.
(419.) According to Mrs Somerville, the rate of increase
of insect life, in proceeding from either pole to the equator,
is very various in different longitudes. Their numbers
are small in both the polar regions—more abundant in
Tasmania and New South Wales—more so in Southern
and Western Africa, Columbia, and a maximum in
Brazil; but North America has fewer species than
Europe in the same latitude ; and Asia is comparatively
poor in species, in proportion to its great extent. The
horrors of insect annoyance in the swamps of the great
rivers of tropical America are vividly described by Hum¬
boldt. The air is one dense cloud of poisonous insects to
the height of 20 feet. In Brazil the vivid colours and
metallic brilliancy of many of the beetles is extraordinary.
Among the more remarkable varieties of insect life de¬
serve special mention, ls£, the bees and ants. Of the
former each country has peculiar species ; but it is singu¬
lar that the honey bee of North America has been intro¬
duced from Europe.1 The ants, of which the species are
almost innumerable, are found chiefly in hot and dry
climates, and are, perhaps, of all insects the most remark¬
able in their habits. The termite of tropical Africa builds
pyramidal nests ten or twelve feet in height, hollowed
into chambers of elaborate structure. The white ant of
India devours everything of animal and vegetable origin,
ascending by covered galleries (for they cannot bear the
light) to the sap of furniture, beams, &c. But perhaps the
most singular species of all is that of the parasol ants of Tri¬
nidad, in the West Indies, which walk in long procession,
each carrying a cut leaf over its head, as a parasol, in the
sun, and these they deposit in holes 10 or 12 feet deep
under ground, apparently with no other object than to
form a comfortable nest for a species of white snake,
which is invariably found coiled up among them on
digging out the deposit (Mrs Carmichael’s Domestic
Manners, fyc. fyc., in the West Indies, ii. 327). The
scorpion extends in Europe to the north coasts of the
Mediterranean, but is more abundant in Africa, both
north and south, where its bite has the singular pecu¬
liarity, that, although excessively painful on the first
occasion of its infliction, and even dangerous to life, the
constitution becomes hardened to it, the suffering is less
on every subsequent occasion, and at length comes to be
little regarded. Brazil produces a scorpion six inches in
length. The locust, one of the most formidable scourges
in countries infested by it, migrates in such masses as to
darken the air for successive days, and when driven into
the sea is sometimes thrown up as banks on the shore,
poisoning the air by their decomposition for many miles
in length. They are frequent in Syria and Barbary,
whence they occasionally migrate to Italy, and within
this last summer (1858) several individuals have even
been taken in England, and one or two in London. They
are even said to cross the Mozambique Channel from the
African coast to Madagascar.
(420.) Fossil Organic Remains.—Buried in the strata
of which the earth’s crust is composed, we find in every
part of the world, and in all the strata properly so called
(excluding thereby granitic and other igneous formations,
and the metamorpliic rocks in which the evidences of stra¬
tification appear to be obliterated by partial fusion, or
softening at least, by heat), either the actual harder
exuviae, such as shells, bones, scales, &c., or impressions
of the softer and more destructible parts of animals, and
the remains of vegetables silicified or otherwise fossilized, Physical
affording evidence of the abundant existence of organic Gleography.
life in every stage of the world’s history. It is only in
the newest and most superficial strata, however, that we
find imbedded the remains of any species, either animal
or vegetable, now existing in a living state, and these
consist almost exclusively of the shells of marine and
some freshwater mollusca. As we go deeper in the order
of stratification, existing species rapidly become rarer,
existing genera thin out, and we find ourselves very soon
landed in an order of things where the Fauna and Flora
have nothing in common with the present, or rather in a
succession of such (art. 11).
(421.) The strata in which we find this gradually
decreasing community of organic life with that now in
existence, are those which lie wholly above the chalk for¬
mations, and which have been termed by Sir C. Lyell,
Tertiary, drawing the line between these and the secondary
deposits at this point, and they have been subdivided by
him into three stages or epochs, the Pleiocene, or that
more nearly approximating (ttXs/wv) to the present new state
(xa/vog); the Meiocene, or that less recent (fuiuv), or in
which the number of species, common to them with the
present epoch is less; and Eocene (jj&g), that in which, as
it were, only a dawning of the present state is visible.
The upper of these three has been subdivided into older
and newer pleiocene or pleistocene, that which approaches
nearest, by the abundance of fossilized species identical
with living ones, to the modern state. Now in these, if
we reckon only the fossil shells as compared with those
recent, we find, according to Sir C. Lyell, in the newest
or pleistocene strata, nearly 96 per cent, of recent, and
only about 4 per cent, of extinct species; in the older
Pleiocene, the recent species still predominate, varying
from 50 to 66 per cent, of the whole number, while in
the Meiocene, the proportion falls already as low as 18
per cent., and in the Eocene, does not exceed 3^.
(422.) In the strata forming under our eyes, in
estuaries, lakes, and shoal deposits, of course the remains
of all existing animals and vegetables become imbedded;
but already in the Pleistocene strata an immense majority
of the existing mammalia and birds has disappeared, and
those few species which can be identified with now exist¬
ing ones are confined mainly to the venj newest of these
formations, designated by some geologists as Post-pleis¬
tocene, or in “ Bone caverns ” in some of the older forma¬
tions still open to day, and which have served as dens for
carnivora, or places of refuge for other animals during all
that period which may have elapsed since those forma¬
tions were raised above the ocean. It is in the Pleistocene
and these Post-pleistocene beds that we find the remains
of a few terrestrial animals which have become extinct
during the present geological epoch, and which either cer¬
tainly have, or may reasonably be presumed to have, been
contemporary with man, such astheDodo, and the Solitaire
(art. 401), the Deinornis of New Zealand (art. 402), six
species of which have been discovered, and Opyornis of
Madagascar, second only to the Deinornis in size, whose
egg-shell has been found equal in bulk to six of that of the
Ostrich, and which has only recently become extinct.
Such also are those remains of gigantic elephants (art. 220)
preserved in ice in Siberia, the Mastodon of North Ame¬
rica, so slightly covered as to have been known to the
aborigines, and to have given rise to obviously fabulous
and mythological traditions of its contemporary existence,2
those gigantic Sloths of the Pampas of Brazil (art. 238)
1 We take this fact on the report of Mrs Somerville (Plugs. Geocj., p. 397), but is there not some mistake? At all events, the search for
wild honey has, from the earliest settlement, been a feature of American forest life, but the indigenous species is, perhaps, undomesticable.
2 At Bigbone Lick, in northern Kentucky, the contents of the stomach of the Mastodon Giganteus have been found, consisting of
crushed branches, leaves, and a species of reed now well known in Virginia (Delabeche :—How to Observe, p. 365).
j
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
638
Physical and the fossil Elks (Ceryus Megaceros) of the ^’ish peat
Geography, mosses, which are found in soft muddy deposits ju.
'^v ' the peat, where they would seem to have perished y -
coming embogged, a group of eleven of their skel ^
having on one occasion been discovered in a standing
position, and without signs of violence. .
(423.) If we take in the whole range of the tertia y
formations, we embrace nearly the total extent in time o
the full development of Mammalian existence, as wel
that of birds, though the latter would seem (as might in¬
deed be expected from their power of migration am
readier escape from destructive events, to take a some¬
what wider range through past time than the others, in
the cretaceous strata we find no mammals, and on y a ew
indistinct vestiges of one or two genera of birds, -below
the chalk in the Oolitic beds (art. 387) only two or three
genera of Marsupial animals have been detected, an
the footprints of birds even as low as the Permian series ;
while, on the other hand, we find in the Eocene forma¬
tions, enumerated by Prof. E. Forbes, 2o genera o
mammals and 8 of birds ; in the Meiocene and Pleiocene,
81 genera of mammals, and many birds ot existing
genera, and in the Pleistocene and Post-pleistocene, no
less than 88 extinct mammal generic forms, besides those
still existing, and among the birds, many of the now
existing species.
(424.) The distribution of these extinct forms over the
globe affords matter of highly interesting and important
remark. A marked and almost complete separation sub¬
sists between the fossil Faunas of the Old World, Ame¬
rica, and Australia; while, on the other hand, subject to
that condition, the range of genera and species within
those limits appears to have been much wider than it is
at present. And what is still more striking is the fact,
that the types which, in their several divisions, are more
especially characteristic of them in the recent epoch, or
what is equally so, the absence of particular types, are
found no less to prevail in the fossil Faunas. Thus
Australia is especially characterized (art. 387) by the
exclusive prevalence of the marsupial type, which is
altogether absent in other parts ot the Old World,
and represented only by a single genus in the New.
And in its fossil Fauna we find an equally striking
prevalence of the same singularity. According to Pro¬
fessor Owen, whose views in this and the following ar¬
ticles we adopt from the striking address pronounced by
him from the chair of the British Association at Leeds,
on the formations of the more recent tertiary periods, and
in the limestone caverns of Australia, abundance of mam¬
malian fossils have been found, but except a single tooth of a
mastodon, all of marsupials. Among them are fossil kan¬
garoos, potoroos, wombats, dasyuri, &c., equalling the
lion and leopard in size, a wombat (phaseolomys gigas)
equalling the tapir, and others of peculiar characters, ri¬
valling the ox and rhinoceros in bulk. The skull ot one
of these great marsupials (the nototherium) from the
“ Darling Downs,” presents the strangest peculiarities
hitherto seen among mammalia; and that of the dipro-
todon, from the same locality (remarkable for two large
and strong tusks projecting horizontally, straight forward
from the lower jaw), is hardly less extraordinary. On
the other hand, Europe, Asia, and Africa have not offered
a single marsupial fossil in the pleiocene and pleisto¬
cene deposits, and those in America are limited to the
genus didelphis (opossum), species of which at present
exist there. In the meiocene and eocene deposits, how¬
ever, didelphidae are found both in France and England
(from which it would seem reasonable enough to con¬
clude that in those periods a land communication existed
between the continents).
(425.) The distinction between the fossil Faunas of Physical
America and the Old Continent is not less marked. “ All 'geography,
the fossil remains of quadrumana in the Old World be¬
long to the family (Catarhina), which is still exclusively
confined to that great division of dry land; ” but the
quadrumanous fossils of the New World exhibit exclu¬
sively platyrhine forms—those, i. e., of a family peculiar
to South America, among which is one larger than any
now known to exist, found in Brazil.
(426.) So again of the camels. The camel and drome¬
dary, the two European genera of that family, are repre¬
sented in America by genera (the llamas and vicugnas)
characteristically distinct. And the fossil camels of Asia
are referable to the same type (camelus) as those there
now existing, while those of America belong to the llama
type (auchenia).
(427.) The giraffe and hippopotamus are at present
African. Fossil remains referable to these families are,
however, found in the pleiocene strata, both of Asia and
Europe, but none have been met with in the New World ;
neither has any form of rhinoceros been discovered in its
strata, though Europe, which is now deprived of that
form, anciently possessed several species, one destitute of
the nasal horn, and three provided with two of those wea¬
pons, one of these being fur-clad, adapting him for a cold
climate.
(428.) As regards the elephant family, the case is some¬
what different. This family, according to Professor
Owen, has been more “ cosmopolitan ” than any other
hoofed herbivorous quadruped. Yet even here the dis¬
tinction between the Old and New World type is by no
means obliterated. Especially corresponding to the re¬
presentative of the elephant in America is the mastodon.
Of elephants we have now an African and an Asiatic spe¬
cies, and no American. But while we find in a fossil
state one North and two South American mastodons, and
one elephant at least, it appears that double that number
of species, both of elephant and mastodon, all specifically
distinct from each other and from the American, in¬
habited Europe during the pleiocene epoch. Of these ele¬
phants, the largest ever found, which appears, by the only
remaining bone, to have been of at least twice the linear
dimensions of the large mastodon exhibited in the Biitish
Museum, was found in making a railway cutting, in the
Valley of the Thames, at Grays, in Essex, through the
upper pleiocene. The skeleton, when found, was neaily
complete, but was broken up by the workmen, and sold as
bone manure to a neighbouring farmer, one only meta¬
tarsal bone finding its way to our national collection ! In
further illustration of this wider range of the elephant
family in past epochs, Professor Owen observes, that not
only China (in which at present there are no elephants),
but even Australia (witness that single tooth before al¬
luded to) has furnished evidence of the fact.
(429.) The distribution of fossils of the class of edentata
furnishes additional evidence of the same laws. The
manis or pangolin of Asia and Africa corresponds in
South America to the ant-eaters; and at present neither
does the one form exist in Europe nor the other in North
America. In the European tertiary beds, however, a
large pangolin has been discovered, while the domain of
the armadillos and sloths, as well as the ant-eaters, in the
same geological epochs, is now ascertained to have ex¬
tended over North as well as South America, though
still confined to that continent. Their present peculiar
habitat, however, Brazil; and the neighbouring regions of
South America, were then, as now, the head-quartei’s of
the family, the sloths being represented by the gigantic
genera of megatherium, megalonyx, mylodon, &c., (of
which the megalonyx, an animal as large as the rhino-
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 639
Physical ceros, ranged at least as far north as Virginia), and the
geography, armadillos by the glyptodon, hopiopnorus, pachytherium,
chlamydotherium, &c. The mylodon, an animal of the
most enormous strength, and which probably lived by up¬
rooting large trees and feeding on their branches, though
found near Buenos Ayres, was probably floated down by
the Parana or Uruguay; but the glyptodon, which was
discovered by the horse of a gaucho striking his hoof
through its huge carapace (Parish, Buenos Ayres, &c.,
222), must have lived and died on the spot during the
recent epoch.
(430.) One of the most remarkable features of the
Mammalian fauna and birds of the tertiary world is the
gigantic size attained by many of the species. Several
instances of this have been noticed in the preceding
articles, and many more might be added; in particular,
the Deinotherium, the largest of terrestrial mammals, a
creature 18 feet long, with two enormous tusks curving
downwards from the extremity of the lower jaw. This
animal has been of wide distribution, during the Meiocene
period, having been found in strata of that age at Eppels-
heim, in Hesse-Darmstadt, in France, Switzerland, and
the Sivalik Hills in India; several reasons exist why,
supposing all the species of a genus to have been at one
time coeval, and to have ranged to the utmost extent to
which the then existing impassable barriers restricted
them, the larger species should have died out first, and
the limits of the genus (especially it of non-migratory
habits) have become restricted. “ In proportion to its
bulk,” observes Prof. Owen, “is the difficulty of the con¬
test which, as an organized whole, the individual of such
species has to maintain against the surrounding agencies,
which are ever tending to dissolve the vital bond, and
subjugate the living matter to the ordinary chemical and
physical forces. Any changes, therefore, in such external
agencies as a species may have been originally adapted
to exist in, will militate against that existence in a degree
proportioned, perhaps, in a geometrical ratio, to the bulk
of the species. If a dry season be gradually prolonged,
the large mammal Avill suffer from the drought sooner than
the small one; if such alterations of climate affect the
quantity of vegetable food, the bulky Herbivorae will first
feel the effects of stinted nourishment. If new enemies
be introduced, the larger and conspicuous quadruped ”
(and we may state the more helpless birds, if provided
with none, or only rudimentary wings) “ will fall a prey,
while the smaller -will conceal themselves and escape;
smaller animals are also usually more prolific than larger
ones. The actual presence, then, of small species of ani¬
mals in countries where larger species of the same natural
families formerly existed, is not the consequence of any
gradual diminution of size of such species 
The smaller and feebler animals have bent and accommo¬
dated themselves to changes, which have destroyed the
larger species.”—Zool. Trans, iv., p. 15.
(431.) Bone Caves and Osseous Breccias.—The caves
noticed in art. 420 exist in great abundance over most
parts of the world in which limestone, of whatever age,
abounds (art. 197), and they are peculiarly important in
respect of this inquii’y, by reason of the vast abundance
and variety of fossil remains they contain of animals,
which we may be assured inhabited the surface while
they were open and accessible. The most remarkable of
such caves in Britain, are the Kirkdale cave in Yorkshire,
examined by the late Dr Buckland, Kent’s Hole near
Torquay, the cave of Paviland or Goat’s Hole near Swan¬
sea, and that of Yealm Bridge near Plymouth. In Bel¬
gium such caverns occur at Chockier near Liege. In
France we find the Grotte de Fouvent, and the caverns
of Miallet near Anduze (dep. du Gard) in dolomite, that
of Bize (dep. de 1’Aude), those near Lunel-viel (dep. du Physical
Herault), and the Grotte d’Osselles near Besan^on. In geography.
Germany a tract of country nearly 200 miles in extent
has been pointed out by Cuvier as full of such caves, and
those of Gaylenreuth are particularly celebrated for the
number of extinct bears, hyaenas, &c., they have yielded,
and for the singularly inaccessible situation (at present)
of some of them. In Sicily several bone caverns have
been examined within a few miles of Palermo. But
perhaps those that have yielded the most striking results
are the Brazilian bone caverns examined by Mr Lund,
and others which have been found full of those strange and
wonderful forms which especially characterize the South
American fossil fauna, large Amadillos, Glyptodons,
Megatheria, Scalidotheria (nearly equalling the rhinoceros
in bulk), &c.; and those in Wellington Valley, 200 miles
N.W. from Sydney in Australia, where were found the
principal among those extinct marsupials above mentioned.
(432.) In these bone caves, not unfrequently two or
three layers of bones, separated from each other by stalac-
titic floorings, are found ; and when this is the case, the
upper usually contains remains of living, or very recently
extinct species, and not seldom human skeletons. But
wherever this has been the case, there has also been
reason to conclude, from circumstantial evidence, that the
caves have been used as places of sepulture or of refuge ;
and though, in many instances, such remains are doubt¬
less of great antiquity (using the term as referring to
human history), there has never been discovered any
fossil human bone so embedded in even the most recent
geological stratum, other than the merest superficial allu¬
vium, as to afford the slightest ground for believing the
earth to have been inhabited by man during the epoch of
its formation. On penetrating through the stalactite
beneath the first loose layer of bones, the species found in
the lower beds are usually found to belong to genera of
earlier epochs.
(433.) Not less remarkable than the accumulation of
bones in caverns, is the frequent occurrence in all parts of
the world of osseous breccias, or beds of bones either re¬
duced to fragments or entire, cemented together by calcare¬
ous stalactite. Such are found in great abundance all
along the north coast of the Mediterranean—at Gibraltar,
Montpellier, Nice, &c. Some of the Greek isles, too, as
Cerigo, abound in such breccias, the bones from the latter
being crushed and comminuted in the most extraordinary
manner. To anyone who reflects on the destructive effects
of sudden inundations, in sweeping away and drifting
together the drowned carcasses of tens or hundreds of
thousands of animals (as recorded in the floods of the
South American rivers), the causes of such accumulations
will offer no difficulty.
(434.) Among the Mammals of the earliest tertiary or
eocene period, the most remarkable are those discovered
by Cuvier in the Lacustrine formations of the Paris basin,
and especially in the gypsum quarries of Montmartre,
scarcely a block taken from which does not disclose some
fragment of a fossil skeleton. Here, among extinct
species of extinct genera, we find the Palaeotherium, Ano-
plotherium, Cheropotamus and Adapis, and among ex¬
tinct species of genera still existing, bats, Avolves, racoons,
genettes, dormice, squirrels, and several birds, besides a
small didelphis allied to the American opossum. The
Deinotherium belonged to the Meiocene, and the Machai-
rodon to that and the Pleiocene, the latter being a genus
of very wide distribution, species of it having been found
at Buenos Ayres, in Britain, in France, in Germany, and
in the Sivalik hills in India.
(435.) Among the fossils of the tertiary epochs, occur
many reptiles, the most remarkable of which is the
640
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical gigantic tortoise discovered in India by Messrs Falconer
Geography. and Cautley, the colossochelys; but the greatest develop-
'   ' ment of reptile life appears to have taken place during the
deposition of the secondary strata. Thus, we find enume¬
rated by Professor E. Forbes, in the Cretaceous foima-
tions, 8 genera of reptiles; in the Oolitic and Wealden,
including the Lias, 24; and in the Triassic beds, 16.
They extend, indeed, somewhat lower in the scale, as in
the Permian members of the upper Palaeozoic rocks four
genera are enumerated ; and even below the coal, in the
Devonian strata, two genera are found among these
animals. The most remarkable forms are those of the
Saurian family, most of them aquatic lizards furnished
with paddles in lieu of legs, and many of them marine
(Enaliosauria). Among them occur several of gigantic
dimensions or monstrous form, as the Mososaurus of the
upper chalk, near Maestricht, a species allied to the
Monitor, 25 feet in length; the Hylaeosaurus, of equal
dimensions; the Icthyosaurus and Plesiosaurus of
the Oolite and Lias, and others. In the Stonesfield
slate occurs theMegalosaurus an amphibious or land lizard,
carnivorous like the crocodile, and from 40 to 50 feet in
length ; in the newer Oolite or Wealden, the still more
gigantic but herbivorous iguanodon, which, according to
Dr Man tell, attained 70 feet: In the strata below the Lias,
in the upper red sandstone, we find that extraordinary gi¬
gantic Batrachian, the Labyrinthodon, and the Cheirothe-
rium, whose footmarks only have been discovered. But
the most singular reptile form of the whole series is that of
the Pterodactyl or flying lizard, with bat’s wings and
crocodile jaws, furnished with 60 pointed teeth, which
first appeared in the epoch of the Lias, and became extinct
in that of the chalk, and of which several species have
been found.
(436.) Comparatively few fossil serpents have been
discovered, and those only in the tertiary formations—
the Eocene deposits of England have afforded some of the
largest, forming two genera, Palaeophis and Paleryx—the
largest of which was equal in size to the largest boa con¬
strictor of the present day. Some small snakes have been
found in the Meiocene and Pleiocene formations of France.
(437.) Among the fishes, no existing genus is found
below the chalk. In the inferior chalk there is one living
genus, Fistularia ; in the true chalk, 5 ; in the tertiary
strata of Monte Bolca, 39 living and 38 extinct, accord¬
ing to M. Agassiz, to whom we owe a system of classi¬
fication of this order of vertebrata by their scales, a
character peculiarly adapted to fossil fish, of which fre¬
quently only the scales and a few of the harder bones
remain, according to which they are divided into four great
groups, Placoid, Ganoid, Ctenoid, and Cycloid. Of these
four great families, the two latter are found only in the
cretaceous and tertiary strata, and not a single species is
of older date. In the cretaceous strata, they occur mixed
with species of the two former classes. . The epoch when
the chalk began to be deposited forms therefore a very
decided break in the history of this class of animals.
And again, of the two more ancient orders, the Palaeo¬
zoic rocks contain almost exclusively the remains of
that class of fishes known as heterocercal, in which the
upper lobe of the caudal fin is . much more developed
than the lower; while the secondary rocks contain the
homocercal, in which the lobes are equal. The most
remarkable deposits of fossil fishes are those of the
Monte Bolca limestone near Verona—the coal for¬
mation of Saarbriick in Lorraine, the bituminous shale of
Mansfield in Thuringia,—the blue slate of Glaris, and the
marl stones of Oeningen in Switzerland, and of Aix in
Provence, and our own old red sandstone. The distribu¬
tion of genera, according to Professor E. Forbes, is as
follows:—Newer Tertiary, 40 genera ; Older Tertiary, 38; Physical
Cretaceous, 61; Oolitic, 61 ; Triassic, 15 ; Permian, 14; ^og™phy.
Carboniferous, 31 ; Devonian, 43 ; and Silurian, 2. (?)
(438.) The mollusca, from the durability of their shells,
have left behind them almost a complete record of the
ancient zoology of this class of animals. Their remains
furnish the chief and most available practical means of
determining the relative ages and order of superposition
of strata, and are thus the main stay of geological science.
As such, then, their study assumes a technical aspect, and
can only be followed up in professedly geological works
(see the article on that subject in this work, and every
geological treatise of note). The same evidence is afforded
of the continual introduction of new genera and spe¬
cies, and dying out of old, as in every branch of zoology,
the range, however, being far wider than in any before
treated of. In fact, these, and the forms of radiata and
articulated animals, and of zoophytes, occur as the first
vestiges of animated existence in the earliest fossiliferous
strata. As might be expected, from the greater probable
uniformity of condition afforded in marine over ter¬
restrial life, the families have been much more persistent
than those of the higher organisms. Thus the lingula, a
brachiopodous genus of the very earliest Silurian epoch,
has its generic representatives still living. The nautilus,
a cephalopod of the older palaeozoic sei'ies, has still its
place among living genera. We have also natica, eulima,
solarium, and capulus among the gasteropods, and car-
dium, mytilus, area, isocardia, avicula, and terebratula
among the acephalous molluscs; while, on the other
hand, some of the genera of earliest appearance (as ortho-
ceras, cyrtoceras, phragmoceras, gomphoceras, and litu-
ites) died out before the commencement of the secondary
period. The ammonites, a most extensive and charac¬
teristic genus of the secondary period, in like manner
died out before its close, as was also the case with the
belemnitic, scaphytic, and turrilitic forms. This is the
more remai'kable in the case of the ammonites, as there
is scarcely any generic form of organized life which
seems to have luxuriated into so vast a variety of species.
Bivalves are rare in the older formations.
(439.) Among the articulata, the trilobite, a form long
since extinct, is highly characteristic of the earliest for¬
mations. They extend up to the carboniferous epoch.
Crustaceous animals, gradually approaching recent forms,
commence from the oolitic and cretaceous epoch. Insects
are of comparatively rare occurrence. Fossil scorpions
are recorded in the coal formation of Chomle, in Bohe¬
mia. Among the radiated animals and zoophytes (to
which belong the very earliest vestiges of animated being)
are a great variety of very remarkable and exquisitely
beautiful forms, those, for instance, of the encrinites, apio-
crinites, and actinocrinites, which have more resemblance
to plants than animals, whence their name of “ stone
lilies.” They seem to have attained their maximum in
the carboniferous period. The pentacrinites of the lias
are particularly beautiful. Sea urchins ('echini) first ap¬
peared in the lias period, became abundant in the oolitic,
continued so during the cretaceous epoch, and are still
denizens of our seas. Corals and corallines belong to
every age in which limestones have been formed.
(440.) Fossil Plants.—The lowest palseozoic strata ex¬
hibit indications of what may be taken for sea-weed, and
in the grauwacke strata (which belong to these and to the
lower devonian), fucoid plants occur abundantly. In
Pennsylvania a hundred layers of them have been found
in a thickness of 20 feet (Buckland, Briclgw. Tr. i., 452),
but it is not till the carboniferous period that fossil vege¬
tation assumes any notable proportions. There, however,
it stands forward in most singular and wonderful promi-
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Physical nence, as there is no doubt that the whole of the immense
deposits of coal in every part of the world owe their
origin entirely to the fossilization of vegetables. “The
most elaborate imitations of living foliage,” says Dr.
Buckland, “ upon the painted ceilings of Italian palaces,
bear no comparison with the beauteous profusion of ex¬
tinct vegetable forms with which the galleries of the Bo¬
hemian coal mines are overhung. The roof is covered as
with a canopy of gorgeous tapestry, enriched with fes¬
toons of most graceful foliage flung in wild profusion over
every part of its surface. . . . Trees of forms and charac¬
ters now unknown, are presented to the spectator almost
in the beauty and vigour of their primeval life. Their
scaly stems and bending branches, with their delicate fo-
liage, are all spread before him, little impaired by the
lapse of countless ages.” The plants thus wonderfully
preserved are equisetaceae, ferns, mostly arborescent (in¬
dicating the prevalence of a tropical climate and insular
arrangement of the land), lepidodendra, sigillaria, cala-
mites, and stigmaria, the lepidodendra offering a transi¬
tional step between cryptogamous and flowering plants of
high botanical interest. Above the carboniferous series
the vegetation undergoes a great change. Cycadete occur
in abundance, associated with peculiar ferns, but now
coniferous plants, such as pines, araucarias, &c., begin to
appear in the lias and oolite ; and it is singular that the
genera in our own lias approximate rather to the recent spe¬
cies of the southern than the northern hemisphere. It is
worthy of remark, that where the stumps of these trees are
found rooted in strata now inclined at a high angle to the
horizon, the direction of the remaining portion of the stem
is similarly inclined to the vertical. The pandaneae, or
screw pines (now confined to the Indian archipelago and
tropical Pacific islands), are also found in our oolitic beds.
(441.) In the tertiary strata, the Dicotyledons assume
nearly the same ratio to the Monocotyledons as at present,
and the greater number of fossil plants, though of extinct
species, bear much resemblance to living genera. Great
deposits of Brown Coal or Lignite (as those of Poole in
Dorset, Bovey Tracey in Devon, Soissons in France, the
Surturbrand beds in Iceland, and those on the banks of
the Rhine, belong to the Eocene epoch, those of Oenin-
gen in Switzerland to the Meiocene. Independent of
these, we find fossil palms in the British tertiary beds,
and even the date and cocoa-nut in the isle of Sheppey, as
well as at Brussels, where also the fruit of the areca-nut is
found fossil, but with abundant evidence of having been
drifted thither by oceanic currents from a warmer climate.
. (442.) As we approach the recent epochs, the remains
of vegetables are assembled in submarine forests, such as
we find at Hastings, on the coast of Sussex, and indeed
along the shores of western Europe, from Scandinavia to
Spain and Portugal. They stretch sometimes inland
under gravel sands and clays to a considerable distance,
usually on slopes dipping slightly seaward. In the Baltic,
trunks of oaks, pines, &c., the roots in their natural posi¬
tion, several layers one above the other, and four or five feet
under water, occur at Griefswald, in the island of Usedom,
and near Colberg. In the submarine forest of Minehead,
Somerset, the bones and antlers of the red deer (which
are still found wild in Exmoor) are found among the
still upright oak stumps. In one of these forests in South
Wales, near the mouth of the Neath river, among the
stumps are found footmarks of a gigantic species of ox
in the clay, apparently of the “ Bos p'rirmgeniusf whose
horns and skull have been discovered near the spot.
641
(443.) A great portion of the fossilized plants which Physical
occur in various parts of the world, are found silicified, Geography,
the vegetable matter having been, as it were, extracted
molecule by molecule, and silex deposited in its place, and
that without destroying the cells, fibres, and tissues of the
organization, which remains perfectly distinguishable
under the microscope, in sections thin enough to be trans¬
parent. The chemical or electro-chemical process by
which this change has been accomplished, is ill under¬
stood. Whatever the nature of the process, it goes on,
as it were, under our eyes in siliceous springs ; as in the
Azores, where wood and reeds are found to become silici¬
fied ; in the Geysers of Iceland ; and even in the waters of
certain streams not usually considered siliceous, as in the
case of Trajan’s bridge, the piles of which, still extant in
the Danube, are externally converted into silex. But other
cases occur where the mode of change is much more
mystex-ious. Thus in the sand of the Isthmus of Suez, an
immense abundance of silicified palm-trees makes its
appearance, which would seem never to have undei’gone
submergence in water. At Ober Dollendorf, on the Rhine,
occurs a deposit of silicified wood, in which not only the
living organization of the wood is preserved, but when
the wood has become decayed, and almost disintegrated
by decomposition, the silicifying process has arrested the
progress of decay, and px-eserved every fibre in loose
spiculce of most wonderful delicacy and beauty.
(444.) Ethnology.—Our limits oblige us to be very
brief on this part of our subject, and in this we
acquiesce the more readily—1st, Because the reader will
find, under that heading, an elaborate article in another
part of this work; and 2dly, Because whatever properly
belongs to the scope of the present essay, may be com¬
prised in a very small compass. And first, then, as to
the date of the introduction of the human species on earth.
So far as geological research has hitherto gone, there can
hardly be said to be any absolute unequivocal proof that
men have been coeval with any one quadruped now ex¬
tinct, or any bird but the dodo and tlxe solitaire or blue¬
bird, whose extinction is distinctly referable to his agency
in times comparatively recent. The geologist, however,
needs not to be reminded that this admission leaves a mar¬
gin wide enough for any, even the most extravagant inter¬
pretations, of sacred chronology or traditional history.
3dly, That the unity of the human species, as a matter
of natural history, rests upon quite as valid physiological
arguments as that in the case of several other animals, as
the dog among quadrupeds, or the domestic fowl among
birds (to say nothing of the sheep and ox, in which the
varieties are less marked), and in which the “ races ” are
distinctly referable to the influence exercised by their
domestication and association with man; not only as to
varieties of stature or form (which go to an infinitely
greater extent than anything observable among different
races among men), but as to the development of new and
peculiar psychological qualities.1 Of all the merely phy¬
siological arguments which have been adduced in sup¬
port of this unity, the most satisfactory seems to be
that di-awn from the identity of the pei’iod of gestation in
all the races of mankind. 4thly, That, nevertheless, the
difference between the human and all other species of
animals is so vast, that it is,impossible to gi-ound a pex--
fectly secure inductive argument or any such analogies.
Our definition of “species” breaks down; and 5thly,
That though we have absolutely no measure whatever,
and cannot even conjecture what time or what number of
It js probable that the full value of the Elephant as an intelligent servant of man has never been developed, owing to the neglect of
all rational and persevering attempts to breed them in captivity. An absurd prejudice has too long been suffered to prevail as to its
impossibility, but this has been distinctly disproved, and is now, we believe, exploded.
VOL. XVII . 4 M
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
642
Physical generations would be required to convert the descendants
Geography. Qf (-say) a Georgian or a Circassian pair, established in
Congo or Guinea, and cut off from all communication with
the rest of mankind, into negroes, or vice versa, we are very
sure that the change would require an immense period;
and yet that such transformation, if it ever took place
at all, must have taken place antecedent to all his¬
tory. The negro was as much a negro in the time ot
the Komans as at the present day. The fair hair and
blue eyes of the Germanic races were as much matter ot
general notoriety and contrast with the dark standard ot
South Italian beauty {nigris oculis, nigroque crine), in the
days of Juvenal,1 as now. If, therefore, we accept the
idea of a single creation, and of the divergence of the
human race on the world from a single centre; since
we must then make up our minds to accept with it what¬
ever consequences, as to the great duration of man s deni-
zenship on earth, the existing diversity of races shall cany
with it, we must not be surprised if those . should be
found who maintain that every trace of the primeval lan¬
guage has been totally obliterated indefinite ages ago,
and that, whatever clue language may afford us in tracing
out migrations and affiliations during the last few
thousands of years, it can give us absolutely none towards
the discovery of that point or that region on the suiface
of our planet first inhabited by man. All that the divi¬
sion recognized by ethnologists of the existing population Physical
of the globe into three, or five, or more races differing
by marked peculiarities (a Caucasian or Aryan, a Mon¬
golian and a Negro, or these, with an American or Poly¬
nesian type), can teach us is, that certain great districts,
having certain features more or less influential in deter¬
mining moral and physical habits, have remained for a suf¬
ficient number of ages in a state of comparative insulation
from each other. On this subject we must refer our
readers emphatically to the great work of the late Dr.
Pritchard on “the Natural History of Man.”
(445.) We cannot conclude this article without ac¬
knowledging our obligations to the authors of several
valuable and excellent works on this general subject which
we have consulted, and which have furnished us with
useful guidance, especially the Physical Atlas of Mr Keith
Johnston, a perfect treasure of compressed information;
Mrs Somerville’s “Physical Geography,” and the unpre-
tending but most useful treatise on the same subject by
Professor Ansted, in the “Manual of Geographical Science.”
To cite the special authorities from which we have
drawn the great mass of our statements, or to which the
reader must be referred for further information, would be
almost equivalent to giving & catalogue raisoneeoi voyages,
travels, and works on geology, geography, and natural
history. (j. r. w. h.)
APPENDIX A.
Table of the Heights of Mountains.—I. Mountains of Europe.
When the heights in the table differ from the text, the former are to be preferred. (V) denotes an active volcano.
Mountains of Europe.
Height in
English,
feet.
Mont Blanc .
Monte Rosa .
Mont Cervin
Finsteraarhorn
Jungfrau
Kleine Mt. Cervin 2
Monte Yiso .
Grande Jorasse (Mt. Blanc)
Pic des Ecrins or Arsines
Aiguille Verte (Mt. Blanc)
Sclireckhorn .
Mt. Iseran .
Aiguille du Geant (Mt. Blanc)
Oertler Spitz
Breithorn
Gross Glockner
Mulha9en
Pico de Yeleta
Malahite
Grand Rioburet
Mont Perdu .
Muschelhorn
Cylinder of Mabure
Etna (V)3 .
Maladetta
Vignemale
Sierra de Gred'
Hochspitze .
Dreyherrn Spitz .
Monte Corno (Gran Sasso
d’ltalia) .
Mt. Buet
Sharah Tagh
Ruska Poyano
La Marmolata
Olympus in Europe
Gross Kogl .
Monte Santo
Mt. Budosch
15,744
15,151
14,836
14,026
13,716
13,703
13,599
13,496
13,467
13,432
13,397
13,272
13,099
12,822
12,800?
12,431
11,664
11,398?
11,168
11,063?
10,994
10,948?
10,897
10,872
10,866
10,820
10,552
10,330
10,122
Country or District.
10,144
10,112?
10,000?
9,912
9,802
9,749
Sardinia.
Sardinia.
Sardinia.
Switzerland.
Switzerland.
Sardinia.
Sardinia.
Sardinia.
France.
Sardinia.
Switzerland.
Sardinia.
Tyrol.
Sardinia.
Austria.
Spain.
Spain.
Pyrenees.
Austria.
Pyrenees.
Tyrol.
Pyrenees.
Sicily.
Pyrenees.
Pyrenees.
Spain.
Vorarlherg.
Austria.
Apennines.
Sardinia.
E. Carpathians.
Tyrol.
Thessaly.
9,700?! Carinthia.
9,628 j Greece.
9,594 | Transylvania.
Mountains of Europe.
Mt. Surrul .
Pic du Midi .
Mt. Terglou .
Mt. Butschetje
Mt. Legnone
Cima d’Asta.
Canigou
Mte. Amaro di Majella
Mount Kom .
Great Balkan (Hsemus)
Lomnitzer Spitz
Monte Rotondo
Monte d’Oro .
Mt. Tatra
Mt. Tornavacas
Mt. Kesmark
Pic d’Abrizon
Mt. Csabi
Rilodagh (Rhodope)
Mt. Guiona .
Pena Laza .
Mont Spinal
Schneehatten 4
Skagtoltind .
Parnassus
Schlern
Taygetus (Mt. St Elias
Monte Gazza
Mte. Yelino .
Mt. Kelmos .
Cima di Portole
Mt. Olonas .
Siete Picos .
Koldetina
Termenillo Grande
Sognefield
Pindus
Monte Cimone
Pighatten
Height in
Enghsh
feet.
Country or District.
9,593
9,439
9,366
9,256
9,206
9,194
9,138
9,113
9,000?
8,874
8,862
8,767
8,701
8,524
8,500?
8,500?
8,344?
8,316
8,313
8,241
8,222
8,203
8,102
8,101
8,068
8,045
7,904
7,898
7,851
7,726
7,416
7,293
7.244
7,224
7,212
7,182
7,000
6,975
6,788
E. Carpathians.
Pyrenees.
Austria.
Transylvania.
Tyrol.
Pyrenees.
Apennines.
Illyria.
Balkan Mts.
Carpathians.
Corsica.
Corsica.
W. Carpathians.
Spain.
Hungary.
Pyrenees.
W. Carpathians
Greece.
Spain.
Tyrol.
Scandinavia.
Scandinavia.
Greece.
Tyrol.
Greece.
Tyrol.
Apennines.
Greece.
Tyrol.
Greece.
Spain.
Scandinavia.
Apennines.
Scandinavia.
Greece.
Apennines.
Scandinavia.
Cserula quis stupet Germani luraina, flavam Caesariem. 2 By a barometrical measurement in 1821 by the author of this article.
By a barometrical measurement in 1824 by the author of this article.
K. Johnston makes the Schneehatten 7520. We follow the Annuaire du Bureau des Longitudes.
Physical
Geography.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Table of the Heights of Mountains—{Continued).
Mountains of Europe.
Mt. Athos
Langfield
Le Molesson
El Gador
Mt. Priel
Pizzo di Cane
Monte Genargeni
Mont Yentoux
Pic de Sancy (Mt. d’Or
Sulitelma
Plomb du Cantal
Mont Eigi
Aetscher
Mont Mezen (Cevennes
Monte Amiata
Mount Helicon
Delphi .
Mont Lozere
Puy Mary
Eiesekoppe .
Wechselsberg
Mt. Hussoko
Schneekoppe
Puy de Yiolan
Kasberg
Mt. Adelat .
Tschatir Dagh
Eiesenberg .
Melderskin .
Gross Arberg
Puy de Dome
Schneeberg .
Ballon des Yosges
Feldberg (Schwartzwald)
Belchenberg (Schwartzwald^
Rachelberg Bohmerwald
Seisser Alp .
Mt. Celene .
Ben Nevis
Lyngen Mountains
Ben Macdui .
Kammkoppel (Schwartzwald
Cairn Tuol (Aberdeen) .
Puy de Longchainp
Puy de Come
Kandelberg (Scbwartzwald)
Sonnenwerbel (Erzgebirge)
Cairn Gorm .
Puy de Pariou
Puy de Cliersou .
Ben Lawers .
Vesuvius (V)1
Puy de Chopine .
Mt. Eryx
Mte. Somma.
Ben Avon (Aberdeen) .
Grand Sarcouy
Brocken (Hartz) .
Sierra de Foya (Algarve)
Mt. Eona
Snowdon
Schehallien 2
Steinberg (Moravia)
Cairn Llewellen .
Schneeberg (Fichtelgebirge)
Mte. Cuccio (Palermo)3
Ben Wyvis ....
Curran or Cairn Tual (Kerry)
Hymettus ....
Gross Bier (Thuringia)
Cuchullin (Skye) .
Ben Lomond
Height in
English
feet.
6,776
6,598
6,584
6,575
6,565
6,509
6,293
6,263
6,238
6,178
6,096
6,050
5,990
5,794
5,794
5,738
5,725
5,535
5,435
5,394
5,352
5,328
5,376
5,229
5,215?
5,145
5,000
4,961
4,859
4,832
4,807
4,784
4,688
4,675
4,642
4,561
4,553
4,500?
4,406
4,300
4,296
4,265
4,225
4,190
4,173
4,160
4,124
4,090
4,012
3,992
3,984
3,922
3,910
3,894
3,869
3,821
3,799
3,740
3,609
3,593
3,590
3,547
3,511
3,471
3,461
3,435
3,422
3,405
3,378
3,361
3,242
3,192
Country or District.
Greece.
Scandinavia.
Jura.
Spain.
Austria.
Sicily.
Sardinia. (Isl.)
France.
France.
Scandinavia.
France.
Switzerland.
Austria.
France.
Tuscany.
Greece.
Greece.
Central France.
Central France.
Germany.
Styria.
Moravia.
Bohemia.
Central France.
Sweden.
Crimea.
Bohemia.
Scandinavia.
Bavaria.
Central France.
Riesengebirze.
France.
Germany.
Germany.
Germany.
Tyrol.
Greece.
Scotland.
Scandinavia.
Scotland.
Germany.
Scotland.
Central France.
Central France.
Germany.
Germany.
Scotland.
Central France.
Central France.
Scotland.
Italy.
Central France.
Sicily.
Italy.
Scotland.
Central France
Germany.
Portugal.
Shetland.
N. Wales.
Scotland.
Germany.
N. Wales.
Germany.
Sicily.
Scotland.
Ireland.
Greece.
Germany.
Hebrides.
Scotland.
643
Physical
Geography
Mountains of Europe.
Ben More (Mull) .
Mte. Cavo (Campagna)
Helvellyn (Cumberland)
Skiddaw (Cumberland)
Cader Idris .
Chicciola (V) (Stromboli)
Cross Fell (Cumberland)
Sliebh Donard
Gross Feldberg (Taunus)
Blessberg (Thuringia) .
Cheviot
Coniston Fell (Lancashire)
Nephin (Mayo)
Morne Mountains (Down)
Schunner Fell (Yorkshire)
Soracte (Sorretto) .
Skaling Fell (Stromoe) .
Ben More (South Hist)
Lbwenberg (Siebengebirge)
Hecla (South Hist)
Mt. Ronas (Shetland) .
Gibraltar
Volcano Island (V)
Valdai Mountains (culm.)
Arthur’s Seat (Edinburgh)
Heiglit in
English
feet.
3,185
3,130
3,115
3,058
2,959
2,957
2,928
2,788
2,775
2,748
2,669
2,649
2,638
2,493
2,348
2,271?
2,172
2,035
2,024
1,992
1,475
1,439?
1,304
1,100
822
Country or District
Hebrides.
Italy.
England.
England.
N. Wales.
Lipari Islands.
England.
Ireland.
Germany.
Germany.
England.
England.
Ireland.
Ireland.
England.
Italy.
Feroe Islands.
Hebrides.
Germany.
Hebrides.
Scotland.
Spain.
Lipari Islands.
Russia.
Scotland.
II. Mountains of Asia.
Mountains of Asia.
Deodunga or Chingo-pamar
Kinchinjunga (AV. peak)
(E. peak)
Dwalagiri
Nandadevi
J uwahir
J umnotri
Jumnu
Setghur
Daibhun
Gossain Thau
Khabru
Chumalari
Momonangli or Gurla
Webb’s Peak, No. 12
Powhunri or Donkiah L
Webb’s Peak, No. 3
Api
AVebb’s Peak, No. 23
- St. Patrick
- St. George
-No. 13
-No. 25
iah
Kanchangow
Jownili .
Zwillinge
Gangoutri Pyramid
Kailas .
Hindu Koh (summit N.
Bolor Mountains .
Elbruz .
Kohibaba
Ararat (Agridagh)
Kasbek
Klieutschewsk (V)
Savalan
Demawend (V)
Argseus (Argisch Tagh)
of Cabul)
Height in
English
feet.
29,002
28,178
27,826
26,861
25,749
25,669
25,660
25.313
25,261
24,740
24,700
24,005
23,929
23,510
23,263
23,175
22,832
22,799
22,727
22,638
22,500
22.313
22,277
22,000
21,940
21,600
21,219
21,000
20,232
19,000
18,493
17,905
17,112
16,532
15,763
15,750
14,695 5
13,197 6
Country or District.
Nepal.
Sikkim.
' Sikkim.
Nepal.
Himalaya.
Kemaon.
Nepal.
Sikkim.
Nepal.
Nepal.
Himalaya.
Sikkim.
Thibet.
Thibet.
Himalaya.
Sikkim.
Himalaya.
Nepal,
j Himalaya.
! Himalaya.
J Himalaya.
J Himalaya.
I Himalaya.
Sikkim.
Kemaon.
: East Himalaya.
Himalaya.
Thibet.
Affghanistan.
Caucasus.
Hindu Kho.
Persia.
Caucasus.
Kamschatka.
Caucasian Mts.
Persia.
Asia Minor.
3 TW l barometrical measurement by the author of this article. 2 AVe follow the Annuaire du Bureau des Longitudes
s rr7 b?d°I)1®trical measurement by the author, June 23, 1824. 4 We follow the Annuaire du B. des L. K. Johnston makes it 27 600*
tnradnedRs'heStbv8; 1V'3f? makes .Demawend more than 19,000 feet Mr Thomson and Lord Schomberg Kerr are said to hav/de-
. med its height by recent barometrical measurement at 21,500 feet. (Times Newspaper).
Humboldt makes it 12,600. We follow Mrs Somerville.
644
Physical
Geography.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Table of the Heights of Mountains {Continued).
Physical
Geography.
Mountains of Asia.
Opalinski (V) 51. 21. N
Jebel el Makmel .
Uschinskaia (V) .
Koriaskaia (V)
Belouka
Takt-i-Suleiman _.
Tangnou Mountains (Ouhsa River
Kronozkaia (V)
Schiwelutsch (V) .
Hermon ...
Taurus (culminating point)
Krestowskaia
Li banus
Um Shomah
Jupanowa (Y)
Awatscha or Gorelaia (Y)
Dodabetta Peak .
Horeb .
Kudiakad Peak
Bevoybetta Peak .
Murkurti
Daversolabetta Peak
Kundah
Tolbatschuskaia (V)
Poworotnoi (V)
Kundamaya .
Sinai . . . •
Wiljutscbinskaia (V)
Utacamund Peak .
Tamburbetta Peak
Hokulbetta Peak .
Bonasson
Urbetta
Kodanad
Jebul Serbal .
Wilutschinskaia (V)
Davebetta
Kotagiri
Kundabetta .
Olympus in Asia .
Dimhutti
Cunur .
Tandiamole .
Pupugiri
Koniakofsky Kamen
Tremel or Iremel .
Mount Abu .
Constantinow Kamen
Jatara .
Mahabuleshwar
Purundar
Singhur
Hurrechundernagur
Taganai
Height in
English
feet.
12,000
12,000
11,721
11,210
11,062
11,000
11,000
10,609
10,544
10,000
9.800
9.592
9,517?
9,300
9,055
8,910
8.760
8.593
8,502
8,488
8,402
8,380
8,353
8,313
7,931
7,816
7,498
7,373
7,361
7,292
7,267
7,000
6,915
6,815
6.760
6,746
6,571
6,571
6,555
6,332
6,330
5,886
5,781
5,682
5,397
5,075
5,000
5,000
4.800
4,700
4,472
4,162
3,894
3,592
Country or District.
Kamschatka.
Syria.
Kamschatka.
Kamschatka.
Altai.
AfFghanistan.
Central Asia.
Kamschatka.
Kamschatka.
Syria.
Asia Minor.
Kamschatka.
Syria.
Syria.
Kamschatka.
Kamschatka.
Nilgheri Mts.
Syria.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Kamschatka.
Kamschatka.
Nilgheri Mts.
Syria.
Kamschatka.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Western Ghauts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Syria.
Kamschatka.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Asia Minor.
Nilgheri' Mts.
Nilgheri Mts.
Western Ghauts.
Western Ghauts.
Ural.
Ural.
Aravulli Mts.
Ural.
Affghanistan.
Western Ghauts.
Western Ghauts
Western Ghauts
Western Ghauts
Ural.
III. Mountains of Africa and the Atlantic Islands.
Mountains of Africa and the Atlantic Islands.
Kilimanjaro .
Mount Woso, 6. 30. N. .
Mount Dajam, 13. 15. N.
Abba Jarrat, 13. 10. N.
Geesh ....
Buahat, 13. 12. N.
Mont Fatra, 10. 42. N.
Cameroon Mountains
Height in
English
feet.
20,000
16.350
15,740
15,008
15,000?
14,362
14.350
13,000
Country or District.
Equatorial Africa
Ethiopia.
Ethiopia.
Abyssinia.
Abyssinia.
Abyssinia.
Abyssinia.
Bight of Biafra.
Mountains of Africa and the Atlantic Islands
Pico de Teyde (V) (Teneriffe)
Atlas (Miltsin)
Lamalmon
Fez Mountains
Chahorra (V) (Teneriffe
Peak of Fogo (V)_.
Peak of St Antonio
Gondar Mountains
Tristan d’Acunha (V)
Taranta
Pico de Cruz (Palma)
Pico (Peak of Azores)
Trigo . . • -
Blue Mountains (culmination of)
Montano del Cobre
Beerenberg .
Los Rexas (Gt. Can.)
Morne Diablotin (Y)
Pico Ruivo .
Mount Chaco
Oraefa Jokul (V)
Eyafialla (V)
Hecla (V)
Snaefell Jokul
Morne Garou
Soufifriere (Guadaloupe)
Montagne Pelee or Carbet
Alto Geraona (Gomera Is.)
Swart Spitz (Pte. Noire)
Mount Parnassus .
San Anton (Ferro)
Table Mountain . _ .
Mount Misery (St Kitts)
Pico de Vara (St Michaels)
Caldeira de S. Barbara (Terceira)
Pico de S. Jorge .
Morro Gordo (Flores) .
Asses’ Ears (Fuentaventura
Diana’s Peak
Caldeira de Corvo .
Lion’s Head .
Santa Lucia (Y) .
Mount Esk (V)
Morne Rouge (V) (Granada
Height in
English
feet.
Country or District.
12,205
11,400
11,200?
10,000 ?
9,885
9,152
8.815
8,450?
8,236
7,800?
7,730
7,6131
7,400?
7,2771
6,890
6,874
6.400
6,075
6,059
6,000
5,927
5,685
5,117
5,112
5,007
4,867
4,432
4.400
4,399
3,917
3,907
3.816
3,720
3,570
3,500
3,498
3,087
2,770
2,692?
2,460
2,166?
1,920
1,600
640
Canary Islands.
Morocco.
Abyssinia.
Morocco.
Canary Islands.
Cape Yerde Is.
Cape Verde Is.
Abyssinia.
T. d’Acunha Is.
Abyssinia.
Canaries,
f St Michael’s,
( Azores.
Canaries.
Jamaica.
Cuba.
Jan Mayen’s Is.
Canaries.
Dominica.
Madeira.
Hayti.
Iceland.
Iceland.
Iceland.
Iceland.
St Vincents.
Martinique.
Canaries.
Spitzbergen.
Spitzbergen.
Canaries.
Cape of G. Hope.
Antilles.
Azores.
Azores.
Azores.
Azores.
Canaries.
St Helena.
Azores.
Cape of G. Hope
Antilles.
Jan Mayen Is.
Antilles.
IV. Mountains of America.
Aconcagua
Sahama (V)
Parinacota
Tupungato
Gualatieri
Pomarape
Chimborazo
Sorate .
Uimane
Chaquibamba
Viejo
Concae .
Chachacomani
Huaina (Potosi)
Angel Peak (16. 10. S.)
Chipicani
Charcani (Y)
23,910
22,350
22,030
22,016
21,960
21,700
21,424
21,288
21,148
21,000
20,500
20,386
20,355
20,260
20,115
19,745
19.708 ?
Chile.
Peru.
Peru.
Chile.
Peru.
Peru.
Equatorial Andes
Bolivian Andes.
Bolivian Andes.
Bolivian Andes.
Peru.
Chile.
Bolivian Andes.
Bolivian Andes.
Bolivian Andes.
Peru.
Peru.
1 Keith Johnston makes this mountain 7808 feet. We follow Humboldt.
! K. J. gives 6000. We follow the Annuaire du B. des Long. 3 The Annuaire makes Hecla only 3314. We follow Humboldt.
4 Mrs Somerville makes Mt. Garou only 4370. We follow Keith Johnston.
6 According to St Clair Deville. K. J. makes it 5110. 8 Dupuger makes this mountain 4706 feet high. We follow K. J.
Physical
Geography.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
Table of the Heights of Mountains—{Continued).
Mountains of America.
Coyambe
La Mesada .
Antisana (V)
Sierra de Santa Marta
Cotopaxi (V)
Arequipa (V)
Quenuta, 17. 41. S.
Nevado of Anaclache
Cacaca, 16. 25. S.
Tolima .
Cololo ....
Orizaba (V) or Citlaltepetl
Mount St Elias1 .
Popocatepetl (V) .
Maypu (V) .
Apu Cunaranu
Vilcanota
Ilinissa
Sangay (V) or Macas
Purace (V) .
Mount Hooker (Rocky Mountains
Chorolque
Tunguragua (V) .
Sinchulagua .
Cerra de Potosi
Miriquiri
Dona Ana Peak .
Nevado de la Vinda
Uvinas .
Mount Brown
Pichincha (V)
Iztacihuatl (Y)
Carguairazo .
Cumbal (V) .
Mount St Helens .
Mount Hood
Sierra Nevada
Toluca (V) .
Tupungate (Y)
Agua (V)
Cerro di Buen Tempo
Monte de las Litanias
Inchocaio
Fremont’s Peak, Rocky Mountains
Pasto .
Monte de Azupe .
Cope de Perote
Amilpas, 15. 10. N.
Colima (V) .
Tuqueres (V)
Atitlan (Y) .
Mont Regnier (V)
Mount Taylor
Hainan (Y) 60. N.
Wrangell’s Volcano
Cerro de Azusco .
Irasu (V. de Cartago)
St Nicolaus, 60. 40. N.
Pico de Tancitaro
Orosce or Papagajo
Votos (V)
Viejo (V)
Mount Pitt or Laughlin
Antuco (Y) .
Silla de Caraccas .
Mount Aquarius .
Height in
English
feet.
19,535
19,356
19,137
19,000
18,877
18,876?
18,765
18.500
18,210
18,120
17,930
18,879
17,850?
17,726
17,644
17,590
17,525
17,380
17,124
17,006
16,730?
16,550
16,491
16,434
16,152
16,100
16,070
16,000
16,000
15,990
15,923
15,705
15,673
15,680
15.500
15.500
15,170
15,168
15,100
15,000
14,710
14.500
13,656
13,568
13,450
13,450
13,416
13,160
13,003
12,821
12,506
12,320
12,256
12,066
12,064
12,052?
11,478
11,270
10,498?
9,976
9,848
9.600
9,549
8,918
8.600
8,526
Country or District.
Equatorial Andes
Bolivian Andes.
Quito.
Venezuela.
Equatorial Andes
Peru.
Peru.
Peru.
Bolivian Andes.
Quito.
Bolivian Andes.
Mexico.
N. W. America.
Mexico.
Chile.
Peru.
Peru.
Equatorial Andes
Quito.
N. Granada.
N. W. America.
Bolivian Andes.
Quito.
Quito.
Bolivian Andes.
Bolivian Andes.
Bolivian Andes.
Peru.
Bolivian Andes.
J" Cascade Moun-
(tains, N. W. A.
Quito.
Mexico.
Quito.
Quito.
f Cascade Moun-
(tains, N. W. A.
_f Cascade Moun-
( tains, N. W. A.
Mexico.
Mexico.
Chile.
Guatemala.
N. W. America.
Bolivian Andes.
N. W. America.
Quito.
Mexico.
Guatemala.
Mexico.
Los Pastos.
Guatemala,
f Cascade Moun-
( tains, N. W. A.
J Rocky Moun-
j tains, N. W. A.
f N. W. America,
\ Cook’s Inlet.
j N. W. America,
) Coppermine R.
Mexico.
Guatemala.
N. W. America.
Mexico.
Guatemala.
Guatemala.
Guatemala.
( Cascade Moun-
{tains, N.W.A.
Chile.
Venezuela.
(Rocky Moun-
(tains, N.W.A.
645
Physical
Geography.
Mountains of America.
Yanteles (V)
Minchinmadeva (V)
Sierra de Guayraima
Osorno or Lanquihue (V)
Corcobado (V)
Congrehoy Peak
Roraima
Melimoya
Duida2
Mount Omoa
Mount Sarmiento
Mount Darwin
Mount Washington
Mount Stokes
White Mountains, Massachusetts
Mount Werner
Blaaserk
Itambe .
Mount Adams
Mount Jefferson
Sierra da Piedade
Mount Burney
Itacolumi
High Peak (Adironbeck)
Mount Katahdin .
Itabira .
Monte Giganta
Jorullo (V) .
Mount Buckland .
Cockscomb Mountain
Monte del Diablo .
Sierra Ventana
Kaatskill Mountains
Mount Jacinto, 57. 1. F
Guanacaure .
Mount Edgecumbe, 57. 3. N.
Izalco (V)3 .
Cosiguina (V)
Mount Bridgeman (V) .
Height in
English
feet.
8,030
8,000
7.600
7,549
7,510
7,482
7,450
7.400
7,149
7,000
6,910
6,800
6,428
6.400
6,230?
6,000?
6,000?
5,960
5,960
5,860
5,830
5,800
5,750
5,467
5,360
5,250
4.600
4,265
4,060
4,000
3,672
3,500
3,454?
3,000
3,000
2,920
2,132
1,000
400
Country or District.
Patagonia.
Patagonia.
Venezuela.
Chile.
Patagonia.
Honduras.
Guiana.
Patagonia.
Venezuela.
Honduras.
Terra del Fuego.
Terra del Fuego.
( Appalachian
t Mts„ N.A.
Patagonia.
N. America, U.S.
East Greenland.
East Greenland.
Brazil.
Appalachian Mts
Appalachian Mts
Brazil.
Patagonia.
Brazil,
f Adironbeck
( Mts., N.A.
Maine, U. S., N.A
Brazil.
California.
Mexico.
Terra del Fuego.
Honduras.
Sacramento River.
Buenos Ayres.
New York, U.S.
N. America.
Guatemala,
f Lazarus Island,
1 N.W.A.
Central America.
Guatemala.
South Shetland.
V. Mountains of Polynesia, Australia, and Pacific Islands.
Mountains of Polynesia, Australia, and
Pacific Islands.
Singalang (V)
Mowna Kia (V)
Mount Terror
Mount Ophir (Gunong Passama) (V)
Mowna Roa (V) .
Merapi (V) .
Mount Erebus (V)
Rindjani (V)
Tobreonou
Semeru Gunong (V)
Fusi-no-yama (V) .
Sesarga (V) .
Alaid (V) .
Gunong Dempo (V)
Mount Ambotismene
Gunong Slamat or Tegal (V}
Gunong Ardjuno (V)
Sumbing or Sunding
Mount Luse
Mowna Wororai or Hualai (V)
Gunong Lavu (V)
Walierung (V)
Merbabu (V)
Gunong Raon (V)
Sindoro (V) .
Height in
English
feet.
15,000
13,951
13,884
13,840
13,758
13,200
12,366
12,363
12,250
12,235
12,443
12,000
12,000
12,000
11,506
11,116
11,030
11,028
11,000
10,790
10,727
10,300
10,220
10,180
9,880
Country or District.
Sumatra.
Sandwich Isis.
South Victoria.
Sumatra.
Sandwich Isis.
Sumatra.
South Victoria.
Sunda Islands.
Otaheite.
Java.
Japan.
Solomon Islands.
Kurile Islands.
Sumatra.
Madagascar.
Java.
Java.
Java.
Sumatra.
Owyhee.
Java.
Java.
Java.
Java.
Java,
1 According to Captain Denham, M' unt St Elias is only 14,968 feet in height.
2 Mrs Somerville makes Duida 8280 feet. We follow K. J.
3 K. J. assigns 1500 feet for the height of Izalco or Sonsonate. We follow Humboldt.
646
Physical
Geography.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
Table of the Heights of Mountains—{Continued).
Physical
Geography
Mountains of Polynesia, Australia, and
Pacific Islands.
Gedee_(V) .
Merapi (V) •
Mount Edgecombe
Schischaldinskoi (V)
Mount Egmont
Gunong Api (Y) .
Gunong Tengger (V)
Lombock Island (V)
Wielis (Y) .
Mount Pedrotallagalla
Tchermai (V)
Bourbon Island (culm.) (Y)
Patuha (V) .
Bukit Tunggul (V)
Tomboro (V)
Adam’s Peak
Sulak (V) .
Ungarang (V)
Papandjam (V)
Dasar (V)
Klut (V)
Mount Koschiusko
Pogromnoi (V)
Tankuban Prahu (Y)
Agung (V) .
Tongararoro .
Way an g (V)
Tilu (V)
Mount Seaview
Tombak-ruyung (Y)
Idjem or Taschem (Y)
Gunong Lama Lama (Y)
Mount Lindsay, 28. 20. S.
Burungrang (Y) .
Sumbung (V)
Mount Humboldt .
Ben Lomond
Mount Dargal
Talaya Boda (V) .
Makutschinskaia (Y)
Langle .
Gunong Lamongan (V)
Height in
English
feet.
9,850
9,708
9,630
8,953
8,840
8,800
8.700
8,688
8,480
8,280
8,280
8,001
7,907
7.800
7,6001
7,4202
7,204
7,100
7,039
7,034
7,000
6,500
6,500
6,427
6,400
6,200
6,149
6,062
6,000
5,896
5.800
5,755 s
5.700
5,690
5,582
5,520
5,502
5.490
5.490
5,474
5,350
5,339
Country or District.
Java.
Java.
New Zealand.
Aleutian Islands.
New Zealand.
Sumatra.
Java.
Sunda Islands.
Java.
Ceylon.
Java.
Indian Ocean.
Java.
Java.
Sumbawa.
Ceylon.
Java.
Java.
Java.
Java.
Java.
Australia.
Aleutian Islands.
Java.
Java.
New Zealand.
Java.
Java.
New South Wales
Java.
Java.
Ternate.
Australia.
Java.
Java.
V. Diemen’s Land
V. Diemen’s Land
New South Wales
Java.
Aleutian Islands.
Japan.
Java.
Mountains of Polynesia, Australia, and
Pacific Islands.
Golgatha (Y)
Volcano of East Sitkin (V)
Atka Island (V)
Cradle Mountain
Mount Canoblas
Sarytschew (V) Matua Island
Mount Wellington
Tchikura (V)
Mount Mitchell
Wunzen (V)
Mount Pinnabar
Mount Arrowsmit
Mount Bathurst
Valentine Peak
Ben Nevis
Mount Arthur
Kirauia
Mount Sturt
Mount Adine
Narborough (V)
Mount George
Mount York .
Ringitt (V) .
Akutan (V) .
Squall or Sugarloaf Hil
Mount Blaxland
Mount Tomah
Saddle Hill .
Strzlecki Peak
Mount Hundawar
Mount Munro
Mount Hay .
Stony Hill
Cockatoo Hill
Mount Wilson
Mount St Patrick
Assuncion (V)
Gunung Api (V)
Barren Island (V)
A.gatshagak (V)
Mount Herschel
Kosima (V) .
Height in
English
feet.
5,263
5,036
4,852
4.700
4,610
4,505
4,195
4,144
4,120
4,110
4,100
4,075
4,000
4,000
3,910
3,900
3,870
3,735
3,726
3,720
3,620
3,440
3,400’
3,332
3,288
3,256
3,240
3,001
2,550
2,545
2,500
2,425
2,400
2,356
2,350
2,227
2,096
1,948
1.700
1,502
1,200
746
Country or District.
Java.
Aleutian Islands.
Aleutian Islands.
V. Diemen’s Land.
New South Wales.
Kurile Islands.
Y. Diemen’s Land.
Java.
New South Wales.
Japan.
New South Wales.
V. Diemen’s Land.
New South Wales.
V. Diemen’s Land.
V. Diemen’s Land.
V. Diemen’s Land.
Owyhee.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
Galapagos Islan ds.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
Java.
Aleutian Islands.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
Flinders’ Island.
New South Wales.
Bass’s Strait.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
New South Wales.
V. Diemen’s Land.
Mariana Islands.
Banda Island.
Sunda Islands.
Aleutian Islands.
V. Diemen’s Land.
Japan Islands.
APPENDIX B.
Lengths, fyc., of the Principal Rivers of the World.
N.B.—O. S. G. B. R. are used as contractions of the words Ocean, Sea, Gulf, Bay, River.
Name of River.
Albany .
Amazon or Maranon
Amur
Anadir .
Arkansaw
Churchhill
Colorado
Columbia
Connecticut
Danube .
Delaware
Dnieper .
Length in
Statute
Miles.
644
3545
2739
460?
1840
2370
976
921
1565
310
1722
304
1243
Geogra¬
phical
Miles.
560
3080
2380
400?
1599
2727
848
800
1360
270
1496
265
1080
?,!!
fcn
o 2
« O <D
<
1512
583
63
74
170
194
8
234
9
170
Sea, Lake, or River into
which it flow s.
Atlantic Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Sea of Japan.
S. of Kamschatka.
To Mississippi.
To the Sea.
Hudson’s Bay.
Gulf of California.
Pacific Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Euxine Sea.
Atlantic Ocean.
Euxine Sea.
Name of River.
Dniester
Don
Douro
Duna
Dwina
Ebro
Elbe
Essequibo
Euphrates
I orth
Francisco, St
Gambia .
Ganges .
Length in
Statute
Miles.
505
1104
505
644
1041
483
787
483
1716
120
1551
700
1933
Geogra¬
phical
Miles.
440
960
440
560
864
420
684
420
1492
104
1400
608
1680
e ca il
'£ 2 H
3 S'S
=1
2 2
f-i Tt
23
168
29
33
106
25
42
62
196
187
90?
432s
Sea, Lake, or River into
which it flows.
Euxine Sea.
Sea of Azof.
Atlantic Ocean.
Baltic Sea.
White Sea.
Mediterranean S.
German Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Persian Gulf.
German Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Bay of Bengal.
1 A^Ttatn^W^f TTn0r°mnlry i5862 feet- i 2 Mrs Somerville sets down Adam’s Peak as 6152. We follow K. J.
st ted by Humboldt. K. Johnston sets down the Volcano of Ternate Island at 4093 feet (?if same).
According to K. Johnston. Humboldt makes it 2345 only. * This includes the basin of the Brahmaputra.
Physical
Geography.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
Lengths, <}c., of the Principal Rivers of the World—{Continued).
Name of River.
Statute
Miles.
Garonne
Gihon or Amu
Glommen
Godavery
Gogra
Guadalquivir
Guadiana
Hoang-ho
Humber .
Illinois
Indigirka
Indus
Irawadi .
J ordan .
Jumna .
Katanga
Kistna .
Kolyma .
Kour
Lawrence, St
Lena *
Loire
Mackenzie
Magdalena
Maritza .
Maykan or Mekong
Menam .
Minho
Mississippi
Missouri
Motagua
Nerbudda
Neva
Niemen
Niger
Nile
Obi
Oder
Ohio
Olenek
Orinoco
Oural
Length in
368
1611
340
861
830
1440
299
483
2624
190
500
1360
1045
2256
2532
104
780
1550
442
791
921
736
2072
2762
598
2440
983
320
2417
1182
221
1930
2310
4096
299
760
506
529
1010
2578
2670
552
1200
2270
1151
1556
771
Geogra¬
phical
Miles.
320
1400
296
748
725
1250
260
420
2280
165
434
1241
908
1960
2200
90
898
1783
384
688
800
640
1800
2400
520
2120
828
278
2100
940
192
1677
2008
3560
260
660
440
460
878
2240
2320
480
1043
1973
1000
1352
670
§•
'S S &
« 5 8
24
194
93
15
19
537
86
312
3311
82
107
65
298
594
34
442
72
j-2162
12
9823
7
67
32
?
520
925
39
77
252
83
Sea, Lake, or River into
which it flows.
Bay of Biscay.
Sea of Aral.
German Ocean.
Bay of Bengal.
To the Ganges.
To the Sea.
Atlantic Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Pacific Ocean.
German Ocean.
To Mississippi R.
To the Sea.
Arctic Ocean.
Arabian Sea.
Indian Ocean.
Dead Sea.
To Ganges.
To Sea.
Bay of Katanga.
Bay of Bengal.
Arctic Ocean.
Caspian Sea.
G. St Lawrence.
Arctic Ocean.
Bay of Biscay.
Arctic Ocean.
Caribbean Sea.
Euxine Sea.
China Sea.
Gulf of Siam.
Atlantic Ocean.
Gulf of Mexico.
To the Mississippi.
To Sea.
Gulf of Honduras.
Arabian Sea.
Gulf of Finland.
Baltic Sea.
Atlantic Ocean.
Mediterranean S.
G. of Obi, Arctic O.
Baltic Sea.
To the Mississippi.
To the Sea.
Arctic Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Caspian Sea.
647
Physical
Geography.
Name of River.
I
{
r Bravo
{
Paraguay
Parana .
Paranahyba
Petchora
Piasina .
Plata, La
Pilcomayo
Po .
Potomac
Pregel .
Pruth .
Red River
Rhine
Rhone
Rio del Norte,
Salado .
Saskatchewan
Scheldt .
Seine
Senegal .
Severn .
Sir or Sihon
Susquehanna
Tagus
Tarim Ergeugol
may _ ,
Tchekian^
Thaluain or Martaban
Thames .
Tigris
Tocantins
Tonquin
Vardoc .
Vistula .
Volga
Weser .
Yana
Yangtsekiang
Yenesei .
Length in
Statute
Miles.
1133
1864
1500
2265
857
690
449
2210
967
1871
405
410
115
620
740
1500
1800
690
644
2138
829
1119
1915
180
391
960
240
1390
630
552
940
120
1105
2152
220
1010
1100
1289
552
270
598
2762
322
483
3314
3222
Geogra
phical
Miles.
984
1620
1304
1968
744
600
390
1920
840
1626
352
357
100
538
643
1293
1564
600
560
1840
720
972
1664
156
340
834
191
1208
547
480
816
104
960
1870
191
878
956
1120
480
235
520
2400
280
420
2880
2800
3 a s
iSo
115
49
186
30
65
28
180
360
23
?
237
22
177
99
285
92?
57
397
13
548
785
Sea, Lake, or River into
which it flows.
To Parana River.
To the Sea.
To the La Plata R.
To the Sea.
Atlantic Ocean.
Arctic Ocean.
Arctic Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean,
lo Parana River.
To the Sea.
Adriatic Sea. •
Atlantic Ocean.
Baltic Sea.
To Danube River.
To the Sea.
To Mississippi R.
To the Sea.
German Ocean.
Gulf of Lyons.
Gulf of Mexico.
Parana River.
Sea.
Hudson’s Bay.
German Ocean.
British Channel.
Atlantic Ocean.
Sea of Aral.
Atlantic Ocean.
Atlantic Ocean.
Lake of Lob.
North Sea.
China Sea.
Indian Ocean.
British Channel.
To Euphrates River.
To the Sea.
Atlantic Ocean.
Gulf of Tonquin.
Medit., Arcbipeh
Baltic Sea.
Caspian Sea.
Arctic Ocean.
Pacific Ocean.
Arctic Ocean.
PHYSICS (qvo-lkov, natural, from (puW, nature) is,
its most general signification, the science of nature.’ M
dern usage, however, has limited the acceptation of t
term to those sciences which treat of bodg or matter, th
standing distinguished from the mental sciences on t
one hand, and from mathematics, or the science of quantil
on the other. Physics, or physical science, thus undi
stood, falls to be divided into the two great heads of Abstra*
Ihysics and Concrete Physics. The former is c
extensive with natural philosophy, and treats of mechar
cal philosophy, including under it mechanics, hydrostatic
and hydraulics, on the one hand ; and with chemical phi!
sophy, including under it optics, electricity, and magnetisi
on the other, f he latter includes natural history, descrii
ti.ve a»d philosophical, embracing physiology, geology, ar
physical astronomy, on the one hand, and concrete chemi
try, analytical and explanatory, on the other; as well as
zoology, botany, descriptive astronomy, meteorology, min¬
eralogy, and physical geography. Auguste Comte, in his
classification of the sciences given in his Philosophic Posi¬
tive, restricts the term physics to what, in ordinary lan-
guage, is loosely termed natural philosophy. Physics ac¬
cording to him, have for their object the discovery of the
general laws of the inorganic world. “ In physics we study
the laws which govern the general properties of bodies
ordinarily viewed in their mass, and constantly placed in
circumstances capable of maintaining intact the composition
ot their molecules, and most frequently even their state of
aggregation.”
PHYSIOGNOMY {^vaioyvwp.ovla) is the art of deter¬
mining the mental character of an individual bv an exami¬
nation of his countenance. (See Phrenology.)
I lauding the basin of the Martaban River.
I he joint basin of the whole Mississippi-Missouri river system.
2 The joint basin of both rivers.
4 The basin of the Martaban is included in that of the Irawadi.
648
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology The word Physiology, derived from <pfcns, nature, and
v ^ Xoyos, a discourse, means literally the doctrine or the his 0 5
of nature, and, strictly speaking, would comprehend a know¬
ledge of all the physical and natural sciences, but as
these in the course of time came to be more particularly
studied, they received distinct names,—such as on the one
hand, astronomy, chemistry, and natural philosophy, and on
the other, mineralogy, geology, botany, zoology, &c. ia
science which treats of the functions of living beings, how¬
ever, still retained the old name, although even now its
meaning is every day more and more restricted, as othei
branches of knowledge become better defined. At present,
bv physiology is generally understood a knowledge ot vital
actions in a state of health, as distinguished from pathology
(Tratfos, disease), which means a knowledge of the same
functions when unhealthy. Again, the modern term histo-
loo-y (to-rds, a tissue or web), which is limited to an ac¬
quaintance with the functions of the elementary textures of
a living body, as distinguished from the study of organs and
organisms, also encroaches upon physiology. ms, vita
action, as manifested in the ultimate fibre ot a muscle, may
be considered histological, as appertaining to elementary
structure; vital action as exhibited in a group of muscles,
for the purposes of speech, deglutition, respiration, locomo¬
tion, and so on, may be called physiological, as belonging
to the functions of organs; and vital action in muscle, as
shown in perversion of those functions during spasm, con¬
vulsion, or paralysis, is more properly called pathological.
It must be evident, however, that these distinctions are
altogether arbitrary, and that the three subjects constitute
one°study. Thus, our knowledge of muscular action is
derived from an acquaintance with its ultimate struc¬
ture and the contraction of its individual fibres, and fiom
an observation of its diseased conditions. Where health
, terminates and disease begins has never yet been settled ,
nay, more, what is health to one man would be disease
'in another, just as the degree of strength which is natural
to a. delicate frame would be considered weakness in a
strong one: histology, physiology, and pathology, then, are
closely allied, and are only different divisions of the same
subject. The facts of one are available for the study of
all; and any theory deduced from this branch cannot be
correct unless in accordance with the data furnished by the
others. In the present article, therefore, we shall employ
the term physiology in the enlarged sense of comprehend¬
ing' the doctrine of life, whether in health or disease,
which would, perhaps, more properly be denominated bio¬
logy (jStos, life),—and avail ourselves of all the knowledge
put within our reach by its modern investigators.
THE DOCTRINE OF LIFE IN GENERAL.
In order to understand the general doctrine of life, w^e must
first attend to the characters of the bodies which manifest it.
These may be arranged under five-heads. All living beings
possess,—1. A peculiar arrangement of matter, called organ¬
ized, consisting of a combination of solid and fluid parts, which
exercise a reciprocal action on each other.—2. Origin from
parents in the form of a germ, which afterwards becomes
separated to enjoy an individual existence.—3. The power
of taking in from, and giving out substances to, the external
world, or what is called assimilation and excretion.—4. The
property of passing through certain definite changes, con¬
stituting the ages of a living being.—5. Certain derange¬
ments from which they may recover, constituting disease.
These characters are not possessed by inorganic or brute physiology
matter.
Organized or living beings may be further distinguished
from Unorganized matters, or such as are incapable of living,
 By their form.—An organized being is of a definite
form, presenting convex or concave surfaces, and bounded
by curved lines. It is of determinate bulk, and invested
by a general envelope. Whereas an inorganized body is of
indefinite form, or of one presenting flat surfaces bounded
by straight lines, such as a crystal. It is of indeterminate
bulk, and without any general envelope. 2d, By arrange¬
ment of parts.—Ar\ organized being consists of an aggregation
of heterogeneous parts, each of which bears a certain relation
to the rest. An inorganized body consists of an aggregation
of homogeneous parts, no one of which bears any certain
relation to the rest, od, By the substances of which they
are composed.—An organized being is composed of solid,
liquid, and aeriform substances conjointly, constituting the
tissues and fluids,—the fluid parts being included within the
solid. An inorganized body is composed exclusively of a
solid, liquid, or aeriform substance, the particles of which
are merely either superimposed upon, or intermingled with,
each other. Ath, By their chemical composition.—A.n or¬
ganized being is composed of several elements, associated,
at least after the cessation of their vitality, into ternary or
quaternary compounds, called proximate principles, which,
as the result of nutrition, are not capable of being imitated
by art, and which are prone to spontaneous^ decomposition.
An inorganized body is composed but of few elements,
associated into binary compounds; which are formed by
common chemical attraction, are easily imitated artificially,
and are not prone to spontaneous decomposition.
The eggs of birds and seeds of plants do not possess all
the characters of living beings, and yet they live. Once
place them in conditions favourable for the development of
their existence, and they become transformed into animals
or plants. Such bodies are regarded as collections of or¬
ganic matter possessing dormant vital propeities, which,
under certain circumstances, waken up and become active.
Numerous efforts have been made to define life. W ith-
out entering upon a criticism of these, it may be said that
they are all faulty. Most authors have felt the necessity of
presupposing some organized structure, the existence of
which is taken for granted in their definitions. Bichat
says, “ Life is the sum total of the functions which resist
death Treviranus calls it “ The constant uniformity
of phenomena with diversity ot external influences ;
Lawrence says it consists “ in the assemblage of all the
functions or purposes of organized bodies, and in the
general result of their exerciseDuges calls it, ‘ 1 he
special activity of organized bodiesand Beclard, “ Or¬
ganization in action f which last gives us, as far as a short
phrase can, what is understood by life.
W ith regard to the nature of life itself, two opinions have
been held concerning it:—1. That life is an independent
entity, a vital principle—an idea which has come dow n to us
from the ancients, and is founded on the notion that the
union of this principle w ith the body caused it to live, and
its separation to die. 2. That life is the collection of phe¬
nomena in organized beings, dependent partly on a certain
structure and chemical composition, and partly on the #
existence of external agencies which stimulate them into
action. We do not think it worth while to enter into the
long arguments by which both these theories have been
supported. It is sufficient to say that the latter is the view
P H Y S I
Physiology which has been adopted by modern physiologists, who be-
^’eve diat the various tissues of an organized body are en¬
dowed with various properties, some physical and some
vital; that the latter require what are called stimuli to bring
them into action ; and that a knowledge of the tissues, their
pioperties, their stimuli, and the forces evolved from them,
O L O G Y.
649
is the true method of arriving at just conclusions con- Physiology
cermng life as manifested in health, and as modified bv ’ ^
disease. Before, then, we can arrive at a just theory of
life in general, we must acquaint ourselves with the struc¬
ture, chemical composition, and vital properties of the tis¬
sues themselves.
PART 1.—HISTOLOGICAL PHYSIOLOGY.
Histology comprehends the functions, mode of develop¬
ment, and chemical transformations of the ultimate textures
of the body, and has become the recognised basis of our
physiological knowledge since the important generalizations
of Schleiden and Schwann as to the cell theory were pub¬
lished in 1841. These ultimate or elementary textures are
only made visible by means of the achromatic microscope,
and have been variously arranged by physiologists. We
shall describe them under four heads,—viz., 1^, Molecule
1 issues ; 2d, Cell Tissues ; 3d, Fibre Tissues ; and 4th,
Tube Tissues.
MOLECULE TISSUES.
On examining the different textures under high magni¬
fying powers, we invariably observe a greater or less number
of molecules and granules. A molecule is a minute body,
presenting optically the appearance of a point or minute
dot. A granule is a larger body, in which we can discover
a centre and an external ring or margin, which are al¬
ternately dark or light according to the focus it is ex¬
amined with. Molecules may become granules by magni-
fying them, and granules may appear as molecules by
diminishing the magnifying power; so that structurally they
are the same bodies. In composition they may be various,
consisting of albuminous, fatty, pigmentary, or mineral
matter, which may be determined by the action of re-agents.
In shape they are usually round, although mineral molecules
may be angular or many-sided. They may be isolated and
equally diffused, or collected together in groups or masses.
In size they may be uniform, but more generally vary from a
point scarcely visible up to a magnitude of considerable but
varyingsize, when they are often called globules,as in the milk.
Molecular Fluids.—All fluids in which organization is
proceeding, and out of which the higher tissues are formed,
are rich in molecules, as may be well seen among plants in
the embryonal sac and in the extremity of the pollen tube.
The chyle of all animals contains a molecular basis (Gulli¬
ver), which gradually becomes cleared up after it has joined
the blood, and perfect blood corpuscles are formed. There
can be little doubt that the floating molecules enter directly
into the substance of nuclei and cell-walls. Molecules are
also numerous in the fluid within cells, sometimes being
the commencement of new germs, at others the deposits of
secreted or effete matter.
Molecular Fibres.—The molecules formed in organic
fluids frequently assume a fibrous arrangement. This is
well observed in mucin, the viscous substance of which
frequently exhibits, especially on the addition of acid, a
multitude of fibres, composed of molecules aggregated end
to end. Similar fibres are formed in the coagulum of blood,
the fibres being deposited as molecules, which rapidly assume
a fibrous arrangement.
Molecular Membrane.—Albuminous fluids may frequently
be observed to contain shreds, which can be spread out
into a membrane, and are composed of molecules aggre¬
gated closely together. Such membranes may readily be
produced artificially by shaking the fluid, adding slight heat,
or mixing them with acids or oil. If a fluid drop of oil and
another of liquid albumen are brought together, a mem¬
brane is immediately produced {haptogen membrane of
VOL. XVII.
Ascherson). If the two drops are mechanically rubbed
together, an emulsion like milk,—containing granules and
globules,—is produced ; and the latter may readily be shown
to be composed of an envelope of this membrane contain¬
ing a drop of oil. Numerous membranes in the animal
body are formed directly by the deposition of albuminous
matter, originally in the form of minute molecules, which
subsequently melt into a homogeneous layer. Amongst
these the substance of cell-walls is perhaps the most im¬
portant.
Molecular Movements.—All molecules floating in a fluid
have distinct movements, which were first described by
Robert Brown ; hence called Brunonian movements. They
may be vibratile, circular, spiral, serpentine, or irregular
in character, but seem to be governed by certain laws of
attraction and repulsion, which have not yet been minutely
investigated. In the interior of cells they frequently pursue
certain directions, hence assuming the nature of a circula¬
tion, well seen in large vegetable cells. Within the sali¬
vary cell they may be seen to move in minute circles, and
present a trembling character; in the vibriones so common
in putrid fluids, they are vibratory or serpentine.
The Molecular Theory of Organization.
When we consider that all embryonic forms are developed
from molecular fluids, and that in adult animals all brgan-
izable matter used as food is first reduced to minute mole¬
cules, in order that it may become organized, it must be
evident that the primary source of vegetable and animal
forms must be sought in the molecular element. When,
moreover, we know that essentially different fluids, as oil
and albumen, when brought into contact, immediately pre¬
cipitate molecules that assume a globular, fibrinous, or
membranous form, and that such a process is facilitated
by numerous chemical re-agents, acids, or alkalies, acting on
albuminous, fibrinous, or mineral solutions, we readily
observe one way in which histological elements may be
produced within the body. Such elements, subject to the
laws of vitality, may be formative elements {histogenetic),
whilst others may be retrograde, and give evidence of vital
cessation (histolytic). Hence the first and last formative
element is the molecular. Organic formative fluids deposit
molecules, which arrange themselves, subject to vital laws,
into nuclei, cell-walls, and higher textures. These, once
produced, subsequently decay in an inverse order, breaking
down into individual fragments, and ultimately into minute
molecules. During the whole life of an individual organism
we observe in it a constant series of these formations and
disintegrations—of these histogenetic and histolytic actions.
The object of these appears to be fitting or elaborating, by
chemical and histological processes, organic matter in such
a way as to perform its appointed office in assimilation or
excretion. A knowledge of the vital and physical changes
occurring in these molecules, and of the fluids in which
they are formed and dissolved, must evidently not only
constitute the basis of physiology as a science, but must
ultimately form a groundwork for the arts of horticulture,
agriculture, and medicine. It is only by the conjoined
study of histology and organic chemistry that this great
work can ever be accomplished.
4n
650
Physiology
PHYSIOLOGY.
CELL TISSUES.
When we examine the structures of living beings under
high magnifying powers, numerous tissues, but more espe¬
cially the fluids, the surfaces of membranes, and the various
glands, are seen to contain multitudes of minute vesicles or
shut sacs, which have received the name of cells. These
have long been recognised with the microscope by observers,
particularly in plants; but their importance has only been
understood since the labours of Schleiden and Schwann
(1841) pointed them out as the elementary form of all organ¬
isms. They vary greatly in shape, size, and function, a cir¬
cumstance which necessitates some arrangement of them.
We shall divide them into temporary cells and cells of transi¬
tion,—understanding by the first, cells which do not pro¬
ceed further in development than the cell form; and by
the last, cells which are transformed into more permanent
textures. Referring to the article Botany for a descrip¬
tion of vegetable cells, we shall here confine ourselves to
those found in animals, especially such as are highest in
the scale.
1. Chyle and Lymph Cells.—These are blood-cells in
an early stage of development.
2. Blood Cells.—These are of two kinds, coloured and
colourless. The coloured cells in fishes, reptiles, and birds
are for the most part oval, being largest in reptiles, and
smallest in birds. They contain an oval vesicle or nucleus,
occupying about a third of their area, which resists the
action of acetic acid, while that agent partially dissolves the
cell-wall, and destroys the colour. Between the nucleus
and cell-wall is a fluid of a yellowish tint. In mammals,
with the exception of the order Camelidse, in which they
are oval, the blood corpuscles present the form of bi-con¬
cave circular discs, smallest in the Napu musk-deer, and
largest in the elephant. They have no included body or
nucleus, and consist of a vesicle containing a coloured fluid.
On the addition of water, they swell out so as to become
globular, and lose their colour; acetic acid rendering them
transparent and almost invisible. In consequence of their
shape, they readily become piled upon one another in the
form of rouleaux. The colourless cells are globular, hav¬
ing a finely molecular aspect externally, and a distinct
nucleus, which, on the addition of acetic acid, usually pre¬
sents two or three granules. In mammals they are some¬
what larger, and in the other vertebrate tribes, smaller than
the coloured corpuscles.
The different corpuscles of the blood originate in the
chyliferous and lacteal system, and are elaborated as the
result of the primary or secondary digestion in the varioua
lymphatic glands. In the lymphatic vessels and thoracic
duct they are colourless, but the different stages of their
development may readily be observed in chyle, which, in
addition to the two kinds of corpuscles previously described,
contains a multitude of minute molecules, or what is called
a molecular basis of fine fatty particles, communicating to
it a milky appearance. The bi-concave disc is fully formed
in the chyle, and on joining the venous blood of the
jugular vein, is rapidly conveyed through the heart to the
lungs, where, coming in contact with the oxygen of the air,
its contents become coloured, and communicate its charac¬
teristic tinge to the blood. In the foetus the blood cor-
“ puscles are formed in the interior of the cells, which are
ultimately changed into vessels, and they are rapidly multi¬
plied by a process of fissiparous development.
, functions of the blood-cells are intimately connected
with the exchange of oxygen and carbonic acid continually
going on between the blood and atmospheric air in the
mngs and in the tissues ; but their especial function is the
furthei elaboration and preparation of the liquor sanguinis,
or fluid part of the blood, in which they swim and are ulti¬
mately dissolved, I his contains all the elements of nutri¬
tion necessary for every part of the organism, as well as Physiology
the effete matters derived from the wearing away of the
tissues. The blood corpuscles, therefore, as the formative
cells of the nutritive fluid of the body, must be re¬
garded as the most essential of the constituents of the ani¬
mal frame.
3. Nerve or Ganglionic Cells.—These cells, of various
sizes and shapes,—simple, bi-polar, or multi-polar,—are com¬
posed of a delicate wall and distinct nucleus, with more
or less granular contents. Their function is to form a
means of communication between the different nerve tubes,
and to evolve that peculiar force which is so essential for
carrying on the motor, sensitive, and mental processes of
the nervous system.
4. Adipose Cells constitute the substance of fats, and
secrete in their interior the oily and oleaginous matters so
necessary, as we shall subsequently see, for various processes
in the economy of all living beings.
5. Pigment Cells present remarkable variations in size
and shape, and are so called from their property of forming
in their interior, in a fluid or granular form, the various
coloured substances which tint the different textures of
plants and animals. This appears to be effected by a
species of vital chemistry, which will be subsequently de¬
scribed.
6. Glandular or Secreting Cells.—Under this head may
be grouped together all those cells, various in form, size,
and composition, which have the common function of at¬
tracting and selecting from the blood the secretions formed
in different glands. Though allied in the performance of
this common function, they differ with regard to the nature
and amount of the secretion produced, which, so far as can
be determined, is not dependent on the structure, chemical
composition, or connection with other anatomical elements
of the cells themselves. Why some of these cells should
secrete bile, others urea, a third class saliva, a fourth milk,
and so on, is only explicable by attributing to these minute
corpuscles the possession of vital properties, whereby one
attracts and selects from the neighbouring blood-vessels the
materials which it forms into bile, a second such as it
fashions into urea, and so on. No other explanation can be
given of a phenomenon which is an ultimate fact in phy¬
siology.
7. The Cells of Transition are those which, according to
the known laws of development, are destined to be trans¬
formed into more permanent tissues, in the manner to be
hereafter spoken of, and comprehend,—1st, Numerous em¬
bryonic cells observable in the ovum of plants and animals.
2d, Fibre cells ; 3d, Epithelial cells ; 4th, Cartilage cells.
The great end of these cells is to be transibrmed into the
tissues formed in various organs, such as blood-vessels,
nerve tubes, fibres, membranes, bone, &c.
8. Pathological Cells.—In the various morbid growths
which so frequently occur, forming hypertrophies, strictures,
tumours, &c., we constantly find an increased number of
the same cells we discover in the healthy textures. At
other times we find cells which are peculiar to different
structural diseases and such as do not occur in health.
These may be denominated pathological cells. Among
these may be enumerated :—\st, Pus cells, the formation
of which in a fluid constitutes the morbid substances so
long known as pus, or purulent matter. 2d, Granule cells,
so called from their containing a number of fatty granules.
These may be formed in every kind of normal cell, but
occasionally in new cells, as in certain softenings of the
cerebral hemispheres. 3d, Cancer cells, so called from
their frequency in cancerous growths. 4th, A variety of
indefinite corpuscles, the title of which to the denomi¬
nation of cells is disputed, such as peculiar diaphanous
bodies found in various morbid products—tubercle cor¬
puscles, &c.
Physiology
P II Y S I
The Cell Theory of Organization.
A study of the minute bodies to which we have just al¬
luded in plants and animals has led to a generalization or
theory, which, although slightly modified since it was ori¬
ginally put forth by Schleiden and Schwann, still remains
one of the most important doctrines in biological science.
I his theory we shall now give as shortly as possible.
All cells originate in a fluid substance, a so-called blas¬
tema (ftXao-Tos, genu), or germ-substance, which, at one
time clear, becomes opaque, from the formation or deposi¬
tion of numerous molecules and granules. Several of these
melt together to form a larger body, upon which there is
gradually produced a delicate membrane that gradually
separates from it, in consequence of the interposition of
fluid. After a time, such a corpuscle, or cell, as it is now
called, consists of an external envelope or vesicle (the cell-
wall), the included body upon which it was formed (the
nucleus), and a fluid between the two (the cell fluid). In
the nucleus may frequently be observed one or more in¬
cluded granules (nucleoli). The changes which subse¬
quently take place in cells thus formed are as follows:—
1^, Having reached their full development as cells, they
gradually dissolve and perish, or the cell-wall bursts, liberat¬
ing the fluid contents, which constitute a secretion. 2d,
Various matters may be deposited on the interior of the
cell-wall, or in the cell fluid. Thus, albuminous or mineral
matter may be deposited which give to certain tissues un¬
usual firmness, as in the fleshy leaves of plants, in the stones
of fruit, and in bone; or the fluid may become loaded with
albuminous, fatty, pigmentary, or mineral matter, commu¬
nicating important properties and striking appearances to
various tissues. 3of, The cell-walls undergo remarkable
changes, and by their union with neighbouring cells form
complex tissues. 1 hus, by becoming elongated, and sub¬
sequently splitting up, fibres are produced; by becoming
elongated and uniting endways to similarly changed cells
while the partitions between them disappear, tubes are
formed; by throwing out radiating branches, which in like
manner unite with others proceeding from neighbourino1
cells, a net-work or plexus of tubes is produced; and by
becoming flattened while their edges adhere together, mem¬
branes are developed. In this manner all the elementary
textures of a living being may be derived from cells.
A^th, Many cells have the power of reproduction, or of
forming other cells, and this may be accomplished in four
different ways,—(1.) By the cell-wall bursting and liberat¬
ing included germs, each of which gives rise to a cell. (2.)
By the nucleus enlarging and dividing into two, each of
these into other two, and so multiplying to a certain extent
within the original cell-wall; (3.) By the cells themselves
dividing into two or more divisions; and (4.) By processes
or buds which are thrown out from one part of the cell,
and subsequently separate. These four kinds of reproduc¬
tion from cells may be called the exogenous, the endo¬
genous, the fissiparous, and the gemmiparous modes of re¬
development.
A careful study of the transformations which occur in
different cells must convince us that they possess a life
peculiar to themselves, and perform special functions. They
are born and nourished, and they grow, reach maturity,
decline, and die. Ihey are the organs of secretion, as
it is in their interior that all the different fluid and solid
secretions are elaborated. They are the organs of growth,
as they constitute the germs out of which all the tissues
are produced. I hey are the organs of reproduction, not
only in causing new growth of tissues, but in multiplying
the countless species of plants and animals that we find on
the surface of the globe.
In order that cells may carry out these different purposes,
they must possess different endowments; whilst some
° L O G Y. 661
possess the property of storing up in their interior and ela- PhysioWv
berating various substances to form the secretions, others l. _ gT
absorb matters which enable them to build up the different
tissues of the organism itself, so as to give it support, ductility
and firmness. A third kind store up pigment, which 'fives
colour to the tissues, or accumulate fat for the purposes of
evolution, disintegration, or chemical combustion ; and a
fom th kind, by a modification of nutritive power, are espe¬
cially charged with the important office of perpetuating
and multiplying new living beings to take the place of
those which are worn out and die. So long as all these
processes go on harmoniously together, health is preserved.
But the excess or diminution of these cells in particular
parts of the economy occasion various kinds of disorders
in secretion, nutrition, and reproduction. Lastly, the fluid
part of the blood is not unfrequently drawn out of the ves¬
sels, and then a new set of cells spring up in it, which, like
pus cells, may serve the purpose of getting rid of the mor¬
bid products, or, like cancer cells, propagate it in various
directions to the destruction of the economy.
The conditions or laws which regulate cell life ap¬
pear, so far as we are acquainted with them, to be as fol¬
lows 1^, They must be in a certain relation to a nutri¬
tive fluid or blastema, from which they can attract and select
the various substances necessary to enable them to carry on
their respective functions. The most active growing cells
are those that swim in such a fluid. In the higher plants
and animals the nutritive fluid (sap or blood) is distributed
throughout the economy by a series of canals. 2d, A cer¬
tain temperature is necessary to cell life, as it will not pro¬
ceed below zero or above 145° Fahr. As a general rule,
a low temperature checks, whilst an elevated one is favour¬
able to cell growth. 3<i, Room for expansion is necessary
to perfect cell formation. Hence they grow most rapidly
and perfectly in fluids or very moist substances; and when
they begin to press upon one another, or upon unyielding
tissues, their development is checked or destroyed. Ath,
An appropriate locality has evidently a great influence over
cell formation, and this independent of mere temperature
and the other circumstances referred to. This is well ob¬
served in the reproduction of tissues, the new matter thrown
out originating cells, which, as to their ultimate develop¬
ment, are more or less governed by the neighbouring struc¬
tures. 5M, Besides these conditions of a general nature,
there is another important one connected with the struc¬
ture of the cell itself. 1 hus, if the cell-wall becomes so
impregnated with mineral matter that liquids cannot pass
through it,—if the cell fluid becomes loaded with al¬
buminous, fatty, or mineral substances, or if the nucleus
disappear,—the growth and function of the cell is at once
destroyed. Hence the conjoined integrity of the three
essential parts of the cell, — viz., cell-wall, cell-fluid, and
nucleus, each of which may operate on one another, and
on the surrounding blastema, by endosmose and exosmose,
—is essential to its activity.
A knowledge of the cell theory as now explained must
convince us that the most important vital processes in the
economy are essentially connected with the development
of the minute corpuscles, which the microscope now en¬
ables us to demonstrate and study with the greatest ease.
Modern investigation, by its means, has thus completely re¬
volutionized all our previous notions, and proved to us that
the cell structures of which we have been speakino- are
in truth the real agents by which nutrition, secretion^ and
reproduction are carried on ; and by means of which, in¬
directly, all the animal functions are supported, including
even locomotion, sensation, and mental acts. A plant or
an animal is in fact a living creature composed of mil¬
lions of corpuscles, the sum total of the lives of which
make up its own. Fat and bone are living tissues,
which, in like manner, are composed of as many lives as
652
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology there are fat and bone cells aggregated together. Pus,
JL > that fluid which surgeons have considered as a deposit or
secretion foreign to the body, and which ought to be let out
as soon as possible, is, like the blood, a living fluid crowded
with multitudes of animal existences, which are born, live,
and die, as man himself does. Views ot this kind must not
only materially modify the notions hitherto attached to the
idea of life, but must satisfy us that in all attempts to sup¬
port, restrain, or prolong it, we can only do so scientifically
throucrh our acquaintance with the structures, on the in¬
tegrity of which it depends. Hence a. knowledge of the
minute cells in the various organs and tissues of the animal
body, the transformations they undergo in health and dis¬
ease, and the conditions necessary for their existence, an
the performance of their functions, is of essential import¬
ance to the medical practitioner.
THE FIBRE TISSUES.
A fibre is a solid elongated body, like a thread, and in
livino- beings exists of various degrees of thickness, varying
from i^Tfth to the y^th of an inch. What appear to be
fibres to the naked eye are in truth bundles ot the true
fibres, which can only be made visible by means of the mi¬
croscope. The different kinds of fibres which enter into
the tissues are the following:—
1. Molecular Fibres—These are best seen in the deco¬
lorized clot of blood, whence they may frequently be ob¬
served to form in the field of the microscope by the deposi¬
tion of minute molecules, w'hich assume a linear arrange¬
ment, and subsequently melt together to produce a solid
fibre. They vary in thickness from the y^Voth to the
y-g^-Q-th of an inch.
2. White or Areolar Fibres.—These constitute the areo¬
lar or connective textures of the body. They may run in
wavy bundles, leaving spaces or areolae between them, as
in the so-called cellular tissue of descriptive anatomists.
They may be closer together, and more or less crossed, as
in a fibrous aponeurosis, or greatly condensed and running
in parallel lines, as in tendon and ligament. Their course
may be various and more or less mingled with cells, as in
fibro-cartilage, or fibrous morbid growths. I'his kind of
fibre is formed by the elongation and splitting up of cells.
They vary in thickness from the -g-oWth to the y^^th ot
an inch.
3. Yellow or Elastic Fibres.—This kind of fibre is yel¬
low in colour and highly elastic; hence the names it has re¬
ceived. It is best seen in the ligamentum nuchce of quad¬
rupeds, or in the ligamenta subfiava of man, extending be¬
tween the laminae of the vertebrae. They form the princi¬
pal bulk of the large arteries, and present under the micro¬
scope a curled appearance at their extremities. The fibres
may often be seen to anastomose; and are apparently formed
from elongation of the nuclei of cells. They vary in thick¬
ness from the -g-oWth to yoVuth of an inch.
4. Epidermic Fibres.—This kind of fibre is formed from
the splitting up of epidermic cells in various ways, and con¬
stitutes the fibrous structure of hair, nail, hoof, horn,
feather, quill, and a variety of epidermic appendages. They
vary greatly in thickness.
5. Non-voluntary Contractile Fibres.—These constitute
the so-called muscular coat of hollow viscera, and exist in
considerable quantity in the blood-vessels, skin, and iris.
Their form is that of ribbon-shaped flattened bands, which
are made up of an aggregation of spindle-shaped nucle¬
ated cells. They vary greatly in thickness in different
textures.
6. Voluntary Contractile Fibres.—These constitute the
substance of muscle or flesh, the fibrous matter of which
may be first divided into solid bundles of fibres, surrounded
by a delicate membrane (sarcolemma) called the fasciculus.
The fasiculi are polygonal, and characterized by transverse Physiology
lines or striae, which run across them, consisting of alternate
dark and light spaces. Each fasciculus, on being broken
up, may be shown to consist of numerous minute fibres or
fibrillae, on each of which the same dark and light markings
mav be seen. The greatest pains have been taken by mi¬
croscopic observers to determine the ultimate structure of
voluntary muscle ; but beyond arriving at the fact, that the
transverse striae of the fasciculus are owing to the aggrega¬
tion of the dark and light markings visible on the minutest
fibrillae, they have not been able to go.
The function of the fibrous tissues is manifold. The
white fibrous or connective tissue unites together various
structures, especially in the form of tendon, ligament, and
aponeurosis. It also offers an elastic medium and support
to the frame generally, protecting the blood-vessels and
nerves. The yellow elastic tissue performs similar func¬
tions ; and in addition, in consequence of its great elasticity,
serves to restore parts after they have been moved by mus¬
cular action; and hence in various places it supplies an
antagonist force to muscles. The epidermic fibres are use¬
ful as a covering and protection externally, besides forming
resisting parts to pressure, and means of offence and de¬
fence in numerous animals. The most important property
of the fibrous tissues, however, is that of contractility.
This exists in different textures, which possess various de¬
grees of power in having it called into activity. Thus, it
may be stimulated by cold in the fibres of the bulbs of the
hair, but cannot be excited by mechanical irritation or gal¬
vanism. In the veins and arteries, on the other hand, cold
and mechanical irritation operate, but not galvanism;
whereas this agent, with the others, excites contracti-
tility in the iris. Lastly, the capillary vessels, in addition
to the other stimuli, are influenced by mental emotions,
whilst the fibres of flesh are also brought into contraction
by the mental act of volition.
Theory of Contractility.
The property of contractility in the fibres of a living
being, on the application of a stimulus, is one peculiarly
vital, and unlike anything known in physics. It was sup¬
posed that the shortening of the fibre was owing to its being
thrown into a zig-zag, but it is now known to depend upon
its swelling out laterally, and being shortened longitudi¬
nally. The property of contractility, however, is not
only exerted in such a manner that, by shortening fibres
as in muscles, and acting upon the bones and joints, it may
induce locomotion. Certain molecular fibres may assume
independent motion, as in vibriones, or in the disintegrated
molecules of putrid animal or vegetable substances. Ihese
bodies, consisting of a fibre more or less long, possess spon¬
taneous movement of a trembling or serpentine character,
by which they are propelled through a fluid. Another re¬
markable movement is seen in the lashing of hair-like pro¬
cesses, shaped like a sabre, which are called cilia, and
which cover the mucous surfaces in many parts of the ani¬
mal body. The peculiar movements of a spermatozoid, in
the spermatic fluid, is another example of contractile fibrous
motions. In the attached stalk of the vorticellae, the fila¬
ment may be seen to assume a spiral form when called into
action. Many cells, also, may be seen to enlarge and con¬
tract suddenly or slowly, while others contract irregularly,
throwing out processes, and thereby continually changing
their form, as in the Amoeba.
The view originally put forth by Haller as to the expla¬
nation of contractility was, that it was a vital power in¬
herent in the tissues which possess it; in short, an ultimate
fact in physiology; a view which is supported by all that
is now known of the subject. It has been maintained,
however, by others, that muscular contractility is not so
P II Y S I O L 0 G Y. 653
Physiology much inherent in muscle as it is dependent on the nervous the investing membrane, and has been supposed to be a Ph • i
V—*^ system. But this opinion is negatived—Is*, By many inge- ■post-mortem phenomenon. Towards the circumference of , yS'° ^
mous experiments, and especially some by Dr John Reid, the body these tubes terminate in loops. Throughout the
who, having removed a portion of the sciatic nerve in a body they form numerous connections, through the medium
frog, and then exhausted the contractility of the muscles of of the nerve cells, with one another, or with various Darts
the limb by powerful repeated galvanic shocks, found that of the nervous system. Their mode of termination in the
contractility returned after a period of repose ; 'M, By gray matter of the brain has not yet been traced,
the observations of isolated fasciculi of muscle under a mi- The general function of all the tubular tissues may be
croscope, which have been seen to contract when entirely said to be that of conduction: the air tubes convey air
separated from nerve ; and, 3</, By the fact, that individual the blood tubes distribute the nutritive fluid to all parts of
cells, and even some parts of plants, contract, which have the economy, the dental tubes serve also as nutritive chan-
no nerves. The true agency of nerves in muscular parts nels, and the nerve tubes conduct the nervous influence,
is not to give them the property of contractility, but to sub¬
ject it in various ways to the dominion of the acts and feel- ,
ings of the mind. Theory of Nervous Conduction.
THE TUBE TISSUES.
The tubular tissues are distinguished from hollow viscera
by their simple structure, and from fibres by their being
composed of distinct walls with contents. The principle
forms are as follows :—
1. Air Tubes.—In plants, and many of the inferior tribes
of animals, their structure contains tubes for the transmis¬
sion of air which are characterized by a deposition in their
interior that assumes the form of a spiral; of bars like a lad¬
der (scalariforni); or of a reticulated or dotted structure.
They are formed by the apposition of cells end to end, the
partitions disappearing after the deposition of the spiral or
reticulated substance on the inner wall of the cell has been
produced. In the higher animals the air tubes are larger and
more complex, terminating in blind expansions or air vesicles.
2. Blood Tubes.— In this system we may comprehend
the chyle and lymphatic as well as the capillary vessels,
which, with the more complex substance of the arteries
and veins, constitute the circulatory apparatus in animals.
Simple ducts and tubes perform a similar office in plants.
I he arterial, venous, and lymphatic vessels resemble hollow
viscera in having several coats, composed of areolar, elas¬
tic, and non-voluntary contractile tissues. The two former
are most abundant in the larger vessels, the latter in the
smaller arteries. The capillary or minutest blood-vessels
aie just large enough to enable the blood globules to pass
through them in single file, f hey are composed of a deli¬
cate membrane, with nuclei scattered here and there
through them, and are formed originally from cells which
coalesce with one another by processes or branching pro¬
longations. The smaller arteries and veins are highly con¬
tractile ; and though it has been much disputed whether
the capillaries are so, we have little doubt, from careful ob¬
servations and measurements, that such is the case.
3. Dental Tubes.—These are found in the ivory or den¬
tine, such as occur at an early period in the enamel being
filled up by mineral matter to communicate increased den¬
sity and hardness to that tissue.
4. Nerve Tubes.—Nervous matter is principally composed
of tubes, which are largest and most symmetrical in the
cerebro-spinal nerves, smaller but ampullated in the spinal
cord, and smallest of all in the brain, where they gradually
diminish in calibre towards the convolutions of the cerebral
hemispheres. The tube itself consists of an extremely
delicate membrane externally, inside which is an albumin-
ous layer, constituting the wall of the tube, called the white
substance of Schwann, and this contains an oleo-albuminous
fluid ; in this there may sometimes be seen a slightly fibrous
structure, called the band of Remak, or the axis-cylinder of
urkinje. The wall of the tube is characterized optically
by possessing a double line, with a clear space in the centre ;
and on breaking it up, it unites so as to form globules of
various sizes, also distinguished by the double outline.
he cause of the swellings or ampullae in the spinal and
cerebral tubes has been ascribed to the greater weakness of
The nerve tubes possess a vital property, named sensi¬
bility or excitability, by virtue of which, when irritated, an
influence is generated in the irritated or excited part of the
nerve tube, and transmitted in certain directions with elec¬
tric-like velocity. The rapidity with which this is effected
negatives the idea that nervous influence travels in the in¬
terior of the tube with the contained fluid. It has been
supposed that some vibration may be communicated to such
fluid; but in fact we are as ignorant of the mode in which
the nervous influence travels along a nerve tube as we are
of the manner in which galvanism is conducted by a metal¬
lic wire. Some nerve tubes only conduct the influence of
impressions from the circumference to the nervous centres ;
others only from the centres towards the circumference.
From the circumstance, that some nerves only consist of
the former, which, by communicating with the brain, give
rise to sensations, they have been called nerves of sensa¬
tion ; whilst such nerves as only consist of the latter, and
terminate externally in the muscular system, have been
called nerves of motion. Most of the cerebro-spinal nerves,
however, are composed of both sets. On tracing a nerve
into a ganglion, or a mass of nerve cells, its component
tubes separate and pass through it in different directions, in
consequence of which an interlacement of them takes place
in different directions, and the nerves which emerge from
it result from a new combination of tubes, different from
those which enter it. The result of this arrangement is,
that the impression may be conducted in various ways from
one centre or more to another, producing tlm^e "endless
combinations of mental, emotional, sensitive, and motor
effects which are produced in the animal frame. These we
shall describe more particularly hereafter. In the mean¬
time we may say, that a nerve tube may be excited by
psychical or physical causes, the former originating probably
in the nerve cells of the brain, the latter from direct pressure
or other mechanical causes. As a result of this excitation,
a something is generated which, for want of a better term,
we call an influence. This influence is then transmitted in
various directions, according to the peculiar endowment and
anatomical distribution of the tubes excited, occasioning, if
they reach the brain, sensation ; if the muscles, motion ; if
the various glands, an increase or diminution of their secre¬
tions ; and if the blood-vessels, contraction or enlargement
of their calibres.
Such are the four great elementary textures of living
beings, on the integrity of which are dependent the im¬
portant vital endowments of growth, contractility, and
sensibility. If among these we search for a primary ele¬
ment out of which all the others are evolved, we may place
it in some primitive cell, although this, so far as we can
determine histologically, is derived from molecular matter,
and this in its turn from an organic fluid. An extensive
knowledge of the tissues must convince us that the molecule
is the primary, as it is the most simple form, and that an ag-
gregation of molecules may even form fibres and membranes
654
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology without the agency of cells at all. Again, they may com-
bine so as to form nuclei; that is, simple closed vesices
containing a fluid, as in the bi-concave blood-disks ot the
mammal/ which never proceed further in development.
Upon nuclei so produced, however, cell-walls may be
formed ; and as a result of these, the various secretions
and textures, as previously explained. Still, the molecu e,
and not the cell, seems to us to be the primary form ; and
it would appear, as we shall afterwards see in speaking ot
reproduction, that the successive elaborations which matter
undergoes takes places by successive formations (histogene-
tic) and disintegrations (Jiistolytic) of elementary molecules.
But before we can rightly comprehend the philosophy
of the formative process, we must attend not only to the
form, but to the chemical changes which organic mattei
undergoes during the successive transformations that take
place during the growth and decay of living beings. I his
leads us to a short discussion of wdiat is known with regard
to organic chemistry.
PHYSIOLOGICAL CHEMISTRY.
Of the sixty-tw'o elementary substances known in nature,
only twenty are found in organized beings, of which eleven
are non-metallic, and nine metallic. 1 he non-meta ic
elements are oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, phospho¬
rus, sulphur, chlorine, fluorine, iodine, bromine, and sili¬
con. The metallic elements are potassium, sodium, calcium,
magnesium, aluminum, iron, manganese, copper, and lead.
Of all these, oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen may
be regarded as the most essential, and as the basis of all
organic matter. Phosphorus enters into the composition
of albumen and fibrine, is solidified in the bones in the
form of phosphate, and is also found in cerebral substance.
Sulphur is necessary to the constitution of albumen, fibrine,
and of caseine, and has been found largely in bile. Iron
enters into the constitution of the blood. Calcium, in the
form of lime, is united with phosphoric and carbonic acids
in the skeleton, and in the covering of cretaceous animals.
Sodium, in the condition of soda or of common salt, gives
alkalinity to the humours and fluidity to the blood. Po¬
tassium "has similar properties. Chlorine, existing in hydro¬
chloric acid, forms part of the gastric juice ; and fluorine
has been found in milk and blood. The other substances
are only occasional or accidental, and appear to depend
upon peculiarities in the kind of food in animals, or soil in
vegetables.
According to a beautiful generalization of M. Dumas,
an animal should be regarded, in a chemical point of view,
as an apparatus of combustion, which incessantly returns to
the atmosphere carbonaceous matters in the shape ot car¬
bonic acid, hydrogen as a constituent of water, and free
azote in the form of oxide of ammonium. In short, from
the animal kingdom as a whole there is continually given oft’
carbonic acid, watery vapour, and azote. Vegetables, on
the other hand, absorb and fix these substances, retaining
the carbon and hydrogen, and setting free the oxygen.
They also abstract azote directly from the air, or indirectly
from oxide of ammonium or nitric acid. Vegetables for^
the most part form organic matter under the influence of
solar light. They pass ready formed as food into the
bodies of animals, which, during their life or after their
death, restore them to the atmosphere from which they were
originally derived. Thus the animal kingdom is an appa¬
ratus of combustion, the vegetable kingdom an apparatus of
reduction ; the one produces the elements which the other
consumes ; so that, in the language of Dumas, they are the
“ offspring of the air.” They come from the atmosphere,
and return to it again.
The various mineral matters which enter into the con¬
stitution of living beings exhibit the same dependence
which animals have upon vegetables, and these, again, upon Physiology
inorganic matter. They simply pass through living beings,
as it were, to serve certain important purposes in the scheme
of life. Let us take lime and sulphur as examples. Rain
water, loaded with the carbonic acid of the air, falls upon
calcareous hills, and carbonate of lime, in a state of solu¬
tion, enters rivers, and is by them carried to the ocean,
where it is seized upon by millions of animals, and con¬
verted into their external skeletons or shells. The water
of rivers and springs also is absorbed by plants and drank
bv animals; and so lime enters into their substance, and is
converted into various salts of that basis, such as oxalates,
tartrates, phosphates, &c. Phosphate of lime is the prin¬
cipal element of the bones, besides entering more or less
into the constitution of the other tissues of the superior
animals, which are continually excreting as well as assimilat¬
ing it. Lastly, on their death, the lime is dispersed in vari¬
ous ways ; even the bones crumble to pieces; and so the
mineral returns to the soil from whence it came. Sulphur
passes from one region to another in a similar manner, fiom
the sea, which contains sulphur in large quantities, to the
atmosphere, thence to the soil, and thence to plants and
animals, from whence it again returns to the bosom of the
ocean.
These incessant exchanges between the soil or atmo¬
sphere, plants and animals, have been laboriously worked
out by M. Dumas, and constitute the theory now known as
“ the chemical balance of organic nature.” Liebig, how¬
ever, has shown that an animal is not the mere con¬
sumer of the organic principles elaborated by vegetables.
There can be little doubt that, whilst this is done to a great
extent, an animal may also produce them; for instance, it
can transform, by a vital chemistry of its own, one principle
into another, such as albumen into fat, sugar into oil or
dextrine, and so on. It is only by a knowledge of this
fact we could understand those remarkable degenerations
which recent researches have shown us constitute so large
a proportion of the organic diseases of man and animals.
The chemical proximate principles which are of such^
paramount importance in constituting the substance of
living beings may be divided into four groups, namely,
1st, The albuminous; 2d, The fatty ; 2>d, The pigmentary ;
and A.th, The mineral principles. All these are more or
less associated together in every texture and fluid, but some
abound in one, and others in another, giving to each pecu¬
liar characters.
Albuminous Principles.—These consist of albumen, fib¬
rine, and caseine. Gelatine and chondrine are also allied
to this group, although chemically they exhibit some marked
differences from the others. Albumen, fibrine, and caseine
also contain sulphur, and the two former a minute quantity
of phosphorus; otherwise, their relative proportions of
carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen are the same.
Albumen forms the white of eggs, and occurs in large
quantity in all the animal fluids that contribute to the nutri¬
tion of the organism. It is also found in most of the ani¬
mal solids, and in nearly every morbid product. Fibrine
forms nearly the whole substance of the muscles, but exists
in small quantity in the blood. Caseine constitutes the chief
ingredient in the milk of Mammalia. Gelatine is obtained
by boiling animal membranes, skin, tendon, and bones,
which yield a substance that on cooling becomes semi¬
solid, and if dried, hard and brittle. Common glue and
isinglass represent this substance in different degrees of
purity. It is apparently formed from the albuminous tissues
by the action of boiling. The various albuminous prin¬
ciples now spoken of constitute the basis of the animal
frame. They form, when coagulated, the walls of cells and
the substance of fibres, tubes, and membranes. In solution,
they are for the most part precipitated by acids and by oil,
especially albumen ; and when recently solidified, are again
PHYSIOLOGY.
655
Physiology partially dissolved by acids. The partial solubility of albu-
minous cell-walls and fibres enables the histologist to de¬
tect them with great ease under the microscope.
Fatty Principles.—Fatty matter may exist in living
bodies under four conditions,—namely, free, saponified,
non-saponifiable, and as a fatty acid. Chemically these
consist of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, in various pro¬
portions ; and hence have been called non-nitrogenous sub¬
stances. In this respect they are analogous to starch, gum,
and sugar, from which, apparently, they may be readily
formed by a process of deoxidation. There can be no
doubt, also, that fat may be produced from albuminous sub¬
stances by a chemical process of a like nature ; for muscles,
if rendered inactive in the living body, become fatty, and
‘ if after death they be exposed to a stream of running water
under certain conditions, they are converted into adipocere.
1 he healthy growth of the living tissues depends essen¬
tially on the union of the albuminous and fatty principles,
and the constant chemical exchanges which are appa¬
rently taking place between them. The development of
a young animal from an egg is a good illustration of this
fact. It contains only albumen and a yellow fat with some
traces of iron. Yet we see in the process of incubation,
during which no foreign matter except atmospheric air
can be introduced, that feathers, claws, blood-corpuscles,
fibrine, cellular tissue, and vessels are produced. Moreover,
the mere union of albumen and oil, under certain conditions,
is apparently sufficient to produce those elementary mole¬
cules out of which all cells, as well as the molecular con¬
stitution of the chyle, are formed. The importance of
this fact in nutrition and alimentation will be pointed out
hereafter.
Pigmentary Principles.—The various tints communi¬
cated to the textures of plants and animals are dependent
on two causes. First, the formation of a coloured secre¬
tion in the interior of cells, which may present a fluid or
granular form, and the exact chemical constitution of which
has hitherto been little studied. Secondly, refraction of the
rays of light, in consequence of a grooved structure more
or less covered with fatty particles, as in the brilliant re¬
fracting wing-cases of insects, feathers of birds, and in the
tapetum of the choroid membrane. The pigment secre¬
tions are evidently allied to the oily constituents in living
beings, are more or less dependent on light, heat, and ex¬
posure to the atmosphere, and are also influenced by the
nature of the soil in vegetables and of food in animals.
Mineral Principles.—These are carried into the body of
men and animals, combined with acids, partly in their food
and partly in their drink. There they are acted upon in
various ways, either by chemical changes induced in them
by contact with other salts, but more especially by the
oxygen of the atmosphere, which, entering the blood and
coming in contact with all the tissues and fluids, is con¬
tinually forming new affinities and combinations. The
most important salts which enter the body are those of
lime. Phosphate of lime forms the bulk of the bones and
of teeth. Carbonate of lime is more abundant in the fluids
and bones of graminivorous than of carnivorous animals.
It also constitutes the principal part of the skeleton in the
Invertebrata. Both salts enter the economy in the way re¬
ferred to, become dissolved, and find their way into the
blood, and from it are deposited in the organic matrix of
bone or cartilage to give it firmness. Indeed, bones may be
regarded as cartilage loaded with phosphate and carbonate
hme. In plants, and some of the lower forms of animals,
silicious salts are deposited in like manner, to form skeleton
of the texture. In every case the mineral solution infil¬
trates in the first place a cell structure ; so that, on after¬
wards becoming solid in consequence of the disappearance
of the water, an organized form is communicated to mine¬
ral matter, as in the silicious epidermis of the grasses, the
shells of the Mollusca and Crustacea, and the bones of mam- Physiology
mals. During life, the mineral, like the animal constituents,
are continually undergoing changes, new particles being
deposited from the blood, while the old ones are absorbed
and excreted. Flence the mineral substances necessary for
the textures must not only exist in aliment, but are con¬
stantly found more or less changed in all the secretions and
excretions.
GENERAL PROPERTIES OP LIVING BEINGS.
Having now described the elementary forms and chemi¬
cal constitution of the textures of living beings, and seen
that they possess peculiar endowments, we may next in¬
quire into the general properties which they present. On
considering the nature of these, we may at once divide them
into two classes,—viz., Hit, Those which are reducible to
the laws of physics; and 2rf, Those which, in the actual
state of science, cannot be so reduced, and which therefore we
call vital. The history of physiology exhibits a long series
of struggles between the physicists and the vitalists, and
we must confess that, in proportion as the vital functions
have been encroached upon, so science has advanced.
Thus the production of animal heat, and the processes of
digestion and respiration, though formerly considered to be
vital phenomena, are now known for the most part to be
chemical. It is of the utmost importance, therefore, to as¬
certain what are physical and what are vital phenomena in a
living body, not only that we may avoid confounding one
with the other, but in order that we may know in what
manner the vital functions may be best investigated.
Physical Phenomena of Living Beings.—We observe
in the various kinds of living beings phenomena altogether
physical, but which are essential to its existence: among
these may be mentioned elasticity ; gravity ; hydraulic, opti¬
cal, acoustic, and chemical phenomena; imbibition ; and en-
dosmose. The importance of this last, in a structure com¬
posed of membranes through which fluids are continually
passing, must be evident. The cells out of which, as we
have seen, most of the tissues are formed, present a mem¬
brane admirably adapted for the phenomenon of endosmose,
and there can be little doubt that it is constantly operating
in these bodies. Again, the absorption of fluid from the
stomach and intestinal canal through the mucous mem¬
brane, and the processes of absorption and exhalation ge¬
nerally, must be connected with endosmose. Living beings
are also subjected to the physical influences of caloric, elec¬
tricity, and light from without, which operate upon them
much in the same manner as they act upon matter in general.
Vital Phenomena of Living Beings.—Although many
functions in vegetables and animals could not be explained
without physics, there are scarcely any which can wholly be
accounted for by mechanical or chemical principles, and
thus to the most physical act there are peculiarities super-
added in living beings which our present knowledge does
not enable us to fathom. The properties of growth, of
reproduction, of contractility, and of sensibility are so
broadly distinct from anything as yet known to be mecha¬
nical, electrical, or hydraulic, as at once to evince the
existence of something in connection with living beings
alone, which we call vital. When, therefore, we employ
this term we only mean that it characterizes certain phe¬
nomena which in the present state of our knowledge can¬
not be accounted for by physical science, and which, being
found only in living beings, are consequently vital.
In studying the different phenomena, whether physical
or vital, physiologists are in the habit of using the term
force much in the same manner that it is used by the
general cultivators of science: mechanics has its forces,
such as that of the lever; chemistry has its forces, like
that of affinity; and physical science has its forces, like
656
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology that of attraction. Physiology has also its forces. It has
^ been supposed that in the same manner as we have physi¬
cal attractions and repulsions, so we have vital attractions
and repulsions. Then we have contractile, nervous, and
germinative forces. The idea of force, whether in physics
or physiology, as explanatory of phenomena, must be ie-
garded only as theory, as a mental creation, which we em-
hibit contractility ; those converted into nerve, excitability. Physiology
Here also a certain substratum or material substance is
requisite for the conversion of one force into another.
Then, as we have seen, there is a certain relation between
the nervous and muscular force : one can call the other
into action in a degree proportional to its own excite¬
ment ; and, again, nervous agency is capable of influen-
garded only as theory, as a men a crea i > f j ceii_forrnation in such a manner as to give rise to the
ploy as a convenient term o ^“sfy"^“s‘re00* ye= that it may be re-con,erted into the forms of vital
arriving at definite causes which is instinctive in man. y n meet uiat .y  
the other hand, it is often employed to express action, which
i i r.  TfLic
may be demonstrated and often measured. In this sense
it is as applicable to the action of a stomach or of a hvei
as it is to that of an electric telegraph or a steam-engine.
According to Mr Grove, the physical forces are “ correla¬
tive,” or have a relation of mutual dependence, each being
capable of producing any one of the rest, either directly oi
through the medium of some other. Thus, the motion
of a body retarded by friction gives rise to heat; and, con¬
versely, heat applied to any form of matter produces its ex¬
pansion,—that is, motion. The friction of two dissimilar
bodies produces not merely heat, but electricity ; and heat
itself, when made to act on certain combinations of me-
tals, also produces electricity; whilst on the other hand,
the electric current may produce heat, light, magnetism,
or motion, according to the nature of the substances
through which it is transmitted. Tight, heat, and elec¬
tricity, again, are closely related to chemical affinity, which
is often specially excited by them, and which can in its
turn generate these forces; a material substratum being
required in both cases. In the same way, as pointed out
by Dr Carpenter, there may be a correlation of the vital
forces. Thus, as we have seen, the most universal agents
of growth are cells. But some of these produce one
tissue, and some another, having different vital endow¬
ments. Thus, cells converted into muscular tissue, ex¬
force necessary to evolve cells. Again, heat, light, and
electricity have long been recognised as exciters or sti¬
muli of the vital forces, and these, operating through a
peculiar organized structure, may in fact become vital
forces themselves, just as heat becomes electricity when
it passes through a certain combination of metals. Thus,
vital force may be converted into physical force, and
vice versa, as when we see one set of cells directed to
chemical action, another to mechanical movement, and a
third to produce electricity, as in the case of the torpedo,
or Gymnotus electricus.
It results that the physical and vital forces and pro¬
perties are intimately united in a living body, and that
the activity or life which it exhibits is the sum of those
phenomena which we observe in it. When therefore we
use the term life, we simply mean that an organized sub¬
stance is possessed of certain properties partly peculiar
or vital, and partly physical, which, when acted upon by ap¬
propriate stimuli,are competent to give rise to that series
of actions in which life consists. We are as ignorant of
the true nature of physical as we are of vital properties.
It is from the effects alone that we infer their existence.
Hence, if one substance exhibits the property of combus¬
tibility, it burns; if another, on being stretched, returns to
its original size, it is elastic ; and if a third presents growth,
involving assimilation and excretion, it lives.
PART II.—NORMAL OR HEALTHY PHYSIOLOGY.
Having now ascertained the vital properties and chemical
constitution of the elementary textures of the animal body,
we have next to describe what is known of the functions of
its more complex organs. These have been variously
divided by physiologists; hut I shall speak of them under
three heads,—viz., 1^, Function of Nutrition ; 2d, Function
of Innervation ; and, 2>d, Function of Reproduction. The
first of these comprehends all those processes called di¬
gestion, assimilation, circulation, respiration, absorption,
secretion, excretion, &c., which are directed to building up,
supporting, and removing the various textures of the body.
The function of innervation comprehends those processes
connected with locomotion, sensation, and thought or intel¬
lect ; the third-named function, such as are necessary to
the. reproduction and development of the animal. I he
three functions are in the higher animals so intimately
mingled together that they are with difficulty separated
from one another. But in the lower we find that innerva¬
tion gradually disappears as we descend in the scale. At
first, mind, then voluntary motion, and then sensibility, is not
present, until at length, when we arrive at the simplest
condition of animal life, as in the infusorial animalcules,
we find only an absorbing membrane with the power of
reproduction. Although, therefore, the three functions
may be intimately united and dependent on one another,
we must study in the first place the laws by which each
seems to be governed.
FUNCTION OF NUTRITION.
Instead of treating of nutrition as one of many functions,
and especially as only comprehending what refers to the
reception and assimilation of alimentary matter, we prefer
regarding it as a great compound process, for which many
acts are necessary, and all of which combine to keep up
the nutrition of the economy. We may consider it as
consisting of five stages,—viz., 1st, The introduction into
the stomach and intestinal canal of appropriate alimentary
matters ; 2d, The formation from these of a nutritive fluid,
the blood ; and the changes it undergoes in the lungs;
3d, Passage of fluid from the blood to be transformed into the
tissues ; 4t/i, The disappearance of the transformed tissues,
and their re-absorption into the blood ; ot/i, rIhe excretion
of these effete matters from the body in various forms and
by different channels. We believe that it is only by un¬
derstanding nutrition in this enlarged sense that we can
obtain a correct explanation of the dependence of one
process upon another, as well as of those important affec¬
tions which may appropriately be called diseases of nutrition.
We shall therefore treat of these stages separately, the
whole of which will be more readily comprehended by a
study of the diagram (p. 657), representing the different
parts concerned in the nutritive function of a dog.
Stage I.—Introduction into the Stomach and Intestinal
Canal of Appropriate Alimentary Matters.
Aliment.—Food of every variety, when analysed, is re¬
solvable into four elements,—viz., carbon, hydrogen, oxy¬
gen, and nitrogen, combined with certain minerals ; and we
have previously seen that in the great balance of organic
nature, whether in the atmosphere, in water, in plants, or in
animals, they play the chief part. The chemical constitution
of plants and animals is exactly the same ; and hence the
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology necessity which modern science has elicited for the food
derived from one kingdom of nature being composed of
657
View of the Nutritive System of a Dog.
A. (Esophagus or Gullet, which conveys the food from the mouth to the
stomach—B. Lungs—C. Vena Cava, through which the blood from the
system generally is returned to the heart—D. Liver—E. Stomach—F.
Spleen—G. Receptaculum Chyli—H. Pancreas—I. Duodenum—J.Entrance
of Biliary and Hepatic Ducts—K. Jejunum—L. Ileum—M. Csecum—
Colon—O. Rectum—P. Kidneys, with the Supra-Renal Capsules above—
K. Urinary Bladder—S. Thoracic Duct, through which the chyle passes
to join the blood—1. Parotid Gland—2. Salivary Gland of Nuck—3 Sub-
maxillary and other Salivary Glands—4. Jugular and Subclavian Veins—
5. Situation of Thymus and Thyroid Glands—6. Entrance of the Tho-
racic Duct into the left subclavian vein, near the jugular—7. Left Auricle
—8. Right Auricle—9. Left Ventricle—10. Right Ventricle—11. Gall Blad-
der-12. Vena Portae, which conveys blood from the intestines to the liver
—13. Mesenteric glands—14. Lymphatic Vessels—15. Lacteal Vessels—16.
Branches of the Portal Vein—17. Ureters.
those elementary substances of which the bodies to be
nourished in the other kingdom are themselves made up.
The proximate principles, however, which contain these
may vary under different circumstances," such as a hot or
cold climate, or a peculiar constitution of body,—carnivorous
or herbivorous, for example. In all cases, however, the
demand for food is regulated by the waste of the tissues ;
hence the processes of growth require constant supply, and
this is increased or diminished by the state of the respiration
and the amount of bodily or mental exertion,—circumstances
which induce loss of force and of texture.
VOL. XVII.
In endeavouring to ascertain what are the best kinds of Pi„si0,0„T
food requisite for meeting the demands of supply, attention
must be paid to the following circumstances :—The
chemical piinciples which enter into the constitution of the
living being to be nourished ; 2d, The mode in which
these are combined to form tissues and organs ; Zd The
atmosphere which surrounds it ; and, 4th, The amount
of waste produced, as, for instance, amongst men variously
employed. J
• ^ ieeard to the first point, we have seen that the
chemical principles which enter into the constitution of a
living being are the albuminous, the fatty, the pigmentary
and the mineral. The pigmentary may here be excluded
from consideration, or regarded as a modification of the
fatty; so that we may consider, in reference to dietetics,
that the essential constituents of the animal frame are the
albuminous, the fatty, and the mineral principles. No one
of these groups alone will serve to keep up nutrition in an
animal body. They must be all united ; a fact which has
been clearly demonstrated by numerous experiments of
Magendie. He fed dogs upon sugar, oil, gum, or butter
alone, and found that for one or two weeks they did very
well, but after that, became weak, and died on the thirty-
second or thirty-sixth day. When they were fed on white
bread and water, they lived fifty days ; when on cheese
and white of egg, they lived longer,” but became feeble,
emaciated, and lost their hair. More recent experiments
by Edwards and Balzac have shown that a diet of bread
and gelatine is insufficient, producing death after emacia¬
tion, without appreciable lesion. A little addition of brown
soup, however, renders bread and gelatine highly nutritious.
Hence it is always necessary to associate a proper mixture of
albuminous and fatty principles, in which the mineral enters
as a constituent part. Of all the articles of food, human
milk appears to be that which contains the three essential
substances in the best proportions. A like result may be
obtained by mixing other articles together, such as fat pork
with veal, potatoes with beef, and rice with mutton or fowl.
Again, stuffing is generally added to ham and veal, bacon
to beans, ham to fowls, and so on. The addition of butter
to bread is the almost universal food of the nursery. Man¬
kind have for the most part adopted these rules instinctivelv.
Persons who feed principally on flesh prefer it fat; and
those who live largely on vegetables, as potatoes and rice,
take considerable quantities of milk. The same result is
obtained by the use of fermented liquors. Hence bread
and wine constitute a diet resembling milk in chemical
constitution. It is not mere nitrogenous or non-nitroce-
nous kinds of food, however, that will serve for nourish¬
ment, as is theoretically supposed by chemists. To form
tissue, these chemical constituents must be converted into
albumen and oil, so as to produce those elementary mole¬
cules found in the chyle, and which constitute the formative
substance out of which nuclei and cells are developed. An
unacquaintance with this histological truth has been the
cause of much error in dietetics. The mineral elements
necessary for nutrition, especially the salts of lime, potash,
soda, and iron, constitute the ashes obtained by incineration
from all articles of food, and are, as we have previous!v
explained, as essential to the animal frame as the fatty and
albuminous constituents.
2. With regard to the manner in which the essential
constituents of food are combined to form tissues and or«-ans,
we have seen that the three groups of principles are neces¬
sary to every texture. There are some, however, which
abound in one, and some in another. Thus the fibrous
tissues abound in albumen, the glandular organs in fat, and
the bones in mineral matter. Whenever fluid albumen and
fat are brought in contact with one another, the former is
piecipitated in a membranous form, and if the twoaremingled
together by trituration, they assume to the naked eye "the
4 o
658
Physiology appearance of milk or of an emulsion j
the formation of multitudes of particles such as are found
in milk, composed of a delicate vesicle of albumen, contain¬
ing a minute portion of oil. Such, also, is the invanab e
’ structure of all blastemata, or nutritious fluids ; and hence
the necessity of bringing fluid albumen and oil in contact,
 a function performed by the stomach,—so as by their
mixture together a properly constituted molecular basis be
produced, out of which texture may be formed.
3. The atmosphere which an individual breathes evi¬
dently exercises an important influence on the nature an
quantity of the diet. If cold and condensed, there is more
oxygen, which will unite with the tissues during respira¬
tion, and produce more waste, while greater evaporation
will take place from the surface; a larger supply is therefore
necessary, and principally of matter which will rapidly give
rise to carbonic acid. Hence the amount of animal and
fatty food used by northern nations. In them, also, it will
be found that alcohol in all its various forms is used with
the greatest freedom; that is, a non-nitrogenized dnn ',
useful, according to Liebig, as fuel for combustion. In
warm countries, on the other hand, where the air is moie
rarified, a vegetable diet, abounding in sugar and starch, is
employed; also non-nitrogenized substances, which, how¬
ever, being more slow of digestion, are not so readily con¬
verted into matter for combustion. I bus, the non-nitro-
genous kinds of food, as fat, starch, and sugar, by combina¬
tion with oxygen, protect the tissues, and produce animal
heat. The amount of oxygen in the atmosphere also ex¬
plains how, with an equal expenditure of force in work, a
man requires in summer a less supply of non-nitrogenous
food than in winter.
4. The degree of bodily or mental exercise influencing
the muscular and nervous textures influences the kind and
amount of food. Those who spend their time in either
kind of labour require more food than those who pass
idle lives. This has been proved experimentally in a variety
of ways, and is observable by paying attention to the die¬
taries of able-bodied men, such as sailors, as compared with
those of prisoners and of the sick in hospitals. An able-
bodied man requires from 31 to 36 oz. of dry nutritious food
daily, of which 26 oz. may be vegetable. In prisons, some¬
what less is required, although even there it is not safe to re¬
duce the quantity below 30 oz. daily, as it occasions scurvy.
We can now comprehend some of the more striking
phenomena of the modes of life and of respiration in man and
animals. Nations of hunters, as well as the carnivorous
animals, require a large quantity ol fleshy nourishment.
In violent corporeal activity they decompose their nitro¬
genous food into the constituents which serve to be trans¬
formed into the tissues on the one hand, and into carbon
and hydrogen, to supply respiration, on the other. Hence
the unquiet and restlessly active habits of the hunter and
of rapacious animals, as well as the extended area for their
existence; circumstances which require a scanty population.
We meet with the other extreme among the nations which
—as in the East Indian races, the Negroes—live wholly on
rice, bananas, or similar vegetable substances, in which little
nitrogenous matter exists. Hence the enormous quantity
which these nations are forced to take in order to extract
the necessary amount of actual nourishment for the tissues
and for respiration. In this respect they resemble the
herbivorous animals who pass most of their lives in a state
of nature in feeding and sleeping. In the polar regions,
again, we find an immoderate consumption of fat. Here
man must produce a greater quantity of heat in order to
live, and requires thereto a larger amount of combustible
matter or fuel. For this purpose there could be scarcely
any substance so applicable as the fat of animals, which
principally consists of carbon and hydrogen. Finally, where
the breeding of cattle is carried on, we have a transitional
PHYSIOLOGY.
This is owing to state, since man here makes use
to provide himself, in addition to meat, with the substances
devoid of nitrogen, in the constituents of milk and the rich
fat of the domestic animals, which is almost wholly absent
in the wild ones. In this manner a skilful agricultural
people leads the most judicious life, mingling nutritious
substances in the same proportion as nature has mixed it for
the suckling in milk, and deriving them from both the vege¬
table and animal kingdoms. For these generalizations we
are indebted to Liebig.
Want of solid aliment produces a peculiar sensation
called hunger, while want of liquid causes another called
thirst. These are not so much dependent on a peculiar
condition of the stomach or oesophagus as they are upon
the general wants of the system. Voyagers in the arctic
regions have related numerous instances among the Esqui¬
maux of men who could devour enormous quantities of
animal food with impunity ; and other cases are known
where, from habit, other persons have survived on surpris¬
ingly small quantities of nourishment. Certain animals,
when they are large and fat, fall into a torpid state on the
approach of winter, and continue so until the warmth of
spring returns. During this period they take no food ;
their respiration is exceedingly slow ; the blood has rather
a gentle undulation than a circulation, and the trivial losses
which take place are repaired by the gradual absorption of
fat. Hence, at the end of the hybernating season, the ema¬
ciation of animals subject to its influence is very consider¬
able. Some authentic cases are known of Indian fakirs
who have sustained a complete fast, when in a state of
trance, for from four to six w eeks. Under ordinary cir¬
cumstances, however, abstinence from food cannot be sup¬
ported beyond the fourth or fifth day without danger.
Young animals generally sink more rapidly than old onesj
Of the 150 individuals wrecked in the Medusa, only 15
survived after 13 days of starvation ; and some of these
had assisted in eating parts of the dead bodies of their com¬
panions. One of the most important effects of starvation
to attend to is, that after some days it destroys the power
of digestion itself to a great extent. Hence the extreme
caution necessary in treating such a case. At first only
fluids should be given containing little nutriment, the
amount of which must be gradually increased.
Mastication.—The food must be properly prepared for
the changes it is destined to undergo in the stomach, and
to this end it must be broken down by the action of the
teeth, jaws, and tongue.
For a description of the teeth, the article Odontology may
be referred to. All that need be said here is, that they aie
organs admirably adapted, in man and the inferior animals,
for seizing, lacerating, and grinding various kinds of food.
They are fixed in the jaws, which move about in vaiious di¬
rections by the action of the muscles. Man having a variety
of movements, possesses a very complicated apparatus for
this purpose. The tongue continually gathers together the
aliment from below the dental arches, and when it is of soft
material, assists in crushing it against the palate. Io ful¬
fil this function, it not only possesses great mobility, but is
endowed with tactile sensibility, whereby we are enabled
to judge of the physical qualities and situation of aliment
in die mouth, as well as to push it about continually, and
appreciate the degree of trituration it undergoes. The lips
also being closed, they, with the muscular walls of the
cheeks, assist mastication, in keeping the food into the cavity
of the mouth, and preventing its accumulation outside, the
dental arches. As the result of these combined actions,
the food is broken down, the utility of which must be
obvious. All chemical processes, and the action of
solvents, is favoured by division of the matter to be
operated on. Too rapid eating is a common cause of in¬
digestion ; and considerable masses of food, if not broken
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology by the teeth, pass through the digestive canal unaltered,
and deficient nourishment is the result, and this especially
if they be principally vegetable, or contain the skins of
fruits and husks of grain.
Insalivation.—The next process the food is subjected
to is a mixture with a peculiar fluid, the saliva. This is a
slightly viscid, transparent liquid, which, on standing, depo¬
sits a little flocculent sediment, composed principally of the
scaly epithelium of the mouth and of the nucleated cells of
the salivary glands. (See diagram, 1, 2, and 3.) It contains
an organic chemical substance called ptyaline or salivine,
on which its peculiar properties are supposed to depend.
The food in the mouth constitutes the stimulus for the
flow of*saliva; and the common expression of the idea of a
least making a man’s mouth water shows that the secretion
may be excited by mental emotions. Its uses are,—\st, By
keeping the mouth moist, to favour articulation ; 2d, To
assist in mastication, it being much more difficult to break
down dry than moist substances; 3d, To facilitate degluti¬
tion, as it is impossible to swallow dry matters; Ath, To
operate upon certain constituents of the food chemically,
and although there is great difference of opinion as to how
this is accomplished, it is supposed to affect more especially
the starchy constituents, readily converting them into glu¬
cose or grape sugar; oth, Liebig supposes that, owing to
the viscidity of the saliva, air, in the form of froth, is carried
to the stomach, and then yields up its oxygen to unite
with the tissues.
Deglutition.—The food, reduced to a minute pulp by
means of mastication and insalivation, is now carried from
the mouth, through the cesophagus or gullet to the stomach
(diagram, A). This is accomplished by a rapid contrac¬
tion of numerous muscular parts, which unite together to
produce the desired effect by the agency of a certain series
of nerves acting through the spinal cord ; hence called dia-
staltic (Sta, through, (rreXAco, to contract). So long as the
bolus of food is contained in the anterior part of the mouth
it is under the control of the will, but once pushed back by
the pressure of the tongue against the hard palate, to the
posterior third of the tongue, it is involuntarily conveyed
into the stomach. For this purpose, the lips are closed, to
prevent escape of the morsel anteriorly; the soft palate is
elevated to prevent its passage into the nasal cavities above ;
the contraction and backward action of the tongue presses
the epiglottis over the larynx, which prevents its going into
the windpipe inferiorly ; and thus, no other mode of escape
being left open, the pressure of the various muscles of the
mouth, pharynx, and oesophagus, carry it by a continuous
wave-like motion from above downwards towards the
stomach. The cardiac orifice of the stomach then opens,
and it slips through into that viscus.
Digestion in the Stomach.—The stomach is a bag (dia¬
gram, E) in which further mechanical and chemical pro¬
cesses are made to operate upon the food, in order to fit it for
assimilation or conversion into blood and tissues. The sub¬
stance of this bag is composed of a serous membrane ex¬
ternally, a muscular coat in its centre, and a mucous layer
internally. The muscular coat is composed of three layers
of contractile non-voluntary fibre, which closes upon the
food, and subjects it to trituration or kneading, whereby the
whole of it is intimately mingled together, and mixed with
the gastric juice. It is also pushed about in a certain di¬
rection, moving along the great curvature from left to right,
and then along the lesser curvature from right to left.
These motions continue until the entire mass of food is
broken down into a fine pulp, called chyme, and passes out
of the stomach through the pyloric orifice. The stomach
seems to be more irritable during the period of digestion,
and its contractility more energetic; so that a stimulus
will operate then which will produce no effect in the in¬
terval, or when fasting. Hence is explained why, during
659
digestion the outward orifice is so firmly closed that no- Physiology
thing but the finest pulp passes through it; but this pro- x ^
cess once over, undigested masses, and even large bodies
such as coins, have been known to go throuo-h.
The different motions of the stomach now spoken of
have actually been seen to take place in the living human
body, in a remarkable case, the study of which has so im¬
proved our knowledge of this function, that it deserves
especial notice. It was that of a young man named St Mar¬
tin, a Canadian, eighteen years of age, who, when in per¬
fectly good health, was accidentally wounded by the dis¬
charge of a musket, on the 6th of June 1822. “The
charge,” says Dr Beaumont, who describes the case, “ con¬
sisting of powder and duck-shot, was received in the left
side, at the distance of one yard from the muzzle of the
gun. The contents entered posteriorly, and in an oblique
direction, forward and inward, literally blowing off’ the in¬
teguments and muscles to the size of a man’s hand, frac¬
turing and carrying away the anterior half of the sixth rib,
fracturing the fifth, lacerating the lower portion of the left lobe
of the lung, the diaphragm, and perforating the stomach.”
From this injury he gradually recovered, but the orifice never
closed. When healed, twelve months after the accident,
the perforation was two-and-a-half inches in diameter!
Subsequently a small fold of the mucous coat of the stomach
appeared, which gradually increased till it filled the aper¬
ture, and acted as a valve, so as completely to prevent any
efflux from within, but to admit of being pushed back by
the finger from without. Dr Beaumont, who had carried
this difficult case to a successful termination, took the man
into his service, and commenced a series of careful observa¬
tions, which he has embodied in one of the most instruc¬
tive works extant on the subject of digestion. On placing
a solid substance through the opening into the stomach of
St Martin, it was seen by Dr Beaumont to be subjected to
the movements described.
These movements, however, though useful in'perfecting
and facilitating digestion, do not constitute the essential
part of the process, as was shown by the experiments of
Spallanzani, who caused metallic balls to be swallowed,
filled with food, which, notwithstanding, was perfectly di¬
gested in the stomach. The mucous coat of the organ
contains a multitude of follicular glands, that secrete an
acid fluid, the gastric juice, which acts as a chemical sol¬
vent on the food subjected to it. This is not merely owing
to acidity, but to the presence of a peculiar organic sub¬
stance called pepsine, which is so powerful that one part
dissolved in sixty thousand parts of water will digest meat
and other alimentary substances. It is poured forth when
food reaches the stomach, and is secreted in the tubular
glands in the intervals of repose.
The conditions favourable for good digestion in the sto¬
mach are,—\st, A temperature of about 100° Fahrenheit;
2d, Constant movement of the walls of the stomach, which
brings in succession every part of the food in contact with
the mucous membrane and gastric juice; 3d, The removal
of such portions as have been fully digested, so that what
remains undigested may be brought more completely into
contact with the solvent fluid; and 4th, A state of softness
and minute division of the aliment. Numerous experi¬
ments have shown that digestion will go on in gastric juice
out of the stomach, but takes a three or four times longer
period than when performed by the stomach itself.
According to the experiments of Dr Beaumont upon St
Martin’s stomach, the rapidity of digestion varies according
as the food is more minutely divided, whereby the extent
of surface with which the gastric fluid can come in contact
with it is proportionally increased. Liquid substances are
for the most part absorbed by the vessels of the stomach at
once, and any solid matter suspended in them, as in soup,
are concentrated into a thicker material before the gastric
PHYSIOLOGY.
660
Physiology juice operates upon them. Solid matters are affected
so rapidly during health that a full meal, consisting of am-
mal and vegetable substances, may be converted into chyme
in about an hour, and the stomach left empty in tvvo hours
and a half. Dr Beaumont found that among the substances
most quickly digested were rice and tripe, both of which
were digested in one hour. Eggs, salmon, trout, apples,
and venison were digested in one hour and a halt 1 apioca,
barley, milk, liver, and fish, in two hours. I urkey, lamb,
and pork, in two hours and a half. Beef, mutton, am
fowls required from three to three and a half hours, and
these were more digestible than veal. These facts were
different from what was anticipated, and show that pieyail-
ino- notions as to the digestibility of different kinds of foot
are very erroneous. It must be remembered, however,
that easy digestibility does not imply high nutritive power.
A substance may be nutritious, though so hard as not to be
readily broken down ; and many soft, easily digested ma¬
terials may contain a comparatively small amount of nutn-
Other circumstances besides those referred to affect di¬
gestion in the stomach. Among these are, 1^, The quan¬
tity of food taken : the stomach should be moderately tilled,
but not distended ; 2d, The time which has elapsed since the
last meal, which should always be long enough for the food
of one meal to have completely left the stomach before
more is introduced ; 3c?, The amount of exercise previous to
and subsequent to a meal; gentle exercise, being favour¬
able, and over-exertion injurious to digestion; Ath, I he
state of mind; tranquillity of temper being apparently es¬
sential to a quick and due digestion; 5th, The bodily health;
6th, The state of the weather ; 1th, Period of life; digestion
being more active in the young than in the old.
Digestion in the Intestines.—The intestines have been
divided into small and large, and each of these subdivided
into three portions. Thus the small intestine is divided
into duodenum (see diagram, I), jejunum (\K), and ileum
(L) ; and the larger intestine into cmcum (M), colon (N),
and rectum (O). The whole constitutes a hollow tube with
serous, contractile, and mucous coats, similar, but not iden¬
tical with those of the stomach. The food operated on in
the manner described enters the upper part of this tube,
the duodenum, in the form of a thick, grumous fluid called
chyme, of a strong, disagreeable acid odour and taste, and con-
taining undigested portions of the food. This is now pro¬
pelled from above downwards by the action of the contrac¬
tile fibres of the intestine. As it descends, it is subjected
to two kinds of operations,—1$?, The influence of various
fluids with which it is mixed ; and 2d, The gradual absorp¬
tion of its nutritive substance through the intestinal walls
into the system.
Shortly after the chyme has passed out of the stomach
it becomes mixed with the bile and the pancreatic juice,—
two fluids secreted by the liver and the pancreas, which in
man enter the duodenum by a common opening. The
exact influence exerted by the bile on the chyme is not
known, but it is supposed so to operate as to render the
nutritive and excrementitious matter more easily separable.
The bile serves other purposes, which will be dwelt on
subsequently. The pancreatic juice is a clear alkaline
fluid, which has the property, when mingled with a drop of
oil, of emulsionizing it with the greatest readiness. Nu¬
merous observations and experiments by M. Bernard have
shown that it operates with the greatest readiness on the
fatty constituents of the food; and that in such animals as
have the pancreatic separated from the biliary duct for
some distance, as in the rabbit, milky chyle is only formed
in the lymphatics after the food has passed the former.
Hence there can be little doubt it does emulsionize the
fluid fat of the food, and fit it for assimilation. At the
same time, recent observations show that this is not its ex¬
clusive action, but that it also assists in digesting the other Physiology
constituents which have escaped the operations of the mouth vw
and stomach. The chyme is also mingled with the fluid of
the Brunonian glands of the duodenum, and of the glands
of Fever and Lieberkuhn, scattered over the small intes¬
tine generally, but the particular changes these induce in it
are not known.
As the chyme passes along the intestinal canal from
above downwards, it is squeezed by successive contractions
of the tube forcibly against the mucous coat of the intestine.
This is covered over with prominences of various forms and
lengths, denominated villi, which are pendulous folds or
projections of the mucous coat itself, so as to afford a great
extent of surface, over which the chyme passes. Th'e more
fluid parts, containing such portions of the food as have been
reduced to excessive fineness, now pass through the mem¬
brane, and enter a series of ducts provided for that purpose.
As the chyme, therefore, descends the alimentary tube, it
is constantly losing its more fluid and nutritive portions,
while other portions of it are being still farther digested and
prepared for a like absorption. On reaching the caecum,
or commencement of the large intestine, it assumes a fcecal
odour, and has now lost nearly the whole of its nutritive
matters. Such as remain, however, are absorbed by the
large intestine, whilst the useless matter becomes more and
more solid, until it is expelled through the rectum. Sup¬
posing that thirty ounces of solid nutriment have been taken
in the course of twenty-four hours by a healthy individual,
only five of these are expelled as fceces. So that twenty-
five ounces have been prepared, elaborated, and finally
passed into the body to form blood, and through it into the
various tissues and secretions, to supply the wants of the
economy.
Stage W.—The Formation from the Alimentary Matters
of a Nutritive Fluid, the Flood ; and the Changes it un¬
dergoes in the Lungs.
Chylification.—The nutritive matters of the food, in a
state of the minutest division, pass through the cell-walls of
the epithelium covering the intestinal villi, probably by
endosmose, although it has been supposed that there aie
minute pores which permit their entrance. From the
interior of these cells they pass into the extremities of
ducts, called lacteals, in a way that has hitherto eluded all
research. What, however, has been seen is, that, when
digestion in the intestines is active, the epithelial cells of
the villi are filled with the fatty molecules and granules of
an emulsion, the extremities of the villi themselves ap¬
pear turgid, and the lacteals within them, where they aie
visible, are filled with a milk}7 fluid. I he continuation of
these lacteals on the peritoneal coat of the intestines, are
also filled with this milky fluid or chyle, which flows in a
continuous stream through the numerous lymphatic glands
towards the thoracic duct. The chyle, when it is first ex¬
amined on leaving the intestine, presents a milky appear¬
ance, and consists of a multitude of minute molecules, or a
molecular basis when examined microscopically. After pass¬
ing through the lymphatic glands, however, these molecules
may be seen to be mingled with larger corpuscles, which are
the lymph and chyle corpuscles previously described, and
which are subsequently transformed into those of the blood.
Function of the Blood-Glands.—There are a series
of glands, widely disseminated through the body, charac¬
terized by being very vascular, forming in their interior
a multitude of colourless nuclei and cells, having no ducts,
but richly furnished with lymphatics. To this group of
organs not only belong the lymphatic glands, but the spleen
the supra-renal capsules, the thymus, and thyroid glands.
In infancy and early childhood the thymus and supra-renal
capsules are large and active; they then decline and almost
P H Y S I
Physiology disappear in man. The others are permanently active
throughout life. The lymphatic glands evidently exercise
a great influence over the fluid which passes through them,
the exact nature of which is unknown, but which serves to
elaborate or fit it more perfectly for the function it is to
undergo. I he fluid derived from the intestines in the
manner described, passes through the mesenteric lymphatic
glands, is of a milky appearance, and called chyle; that
which goes through the other lymphatic glands is limpid,
and denominated lymph. They also pour their contents
into the thoracic duct, which in man enters the angle formed
by the left jugular and axillary veins (diagram, 6) ; so that
the whole joins the blood at that point. The thoracic duct
further receives the lymphatics coming from the other blood
glands, each of which contributes numerous corpuscles, in
various stages of development, destined to become blood
corpuscles.
Sanguification.—The blood, therefore, is formed and
kept up not only by the nutritive matter derived directly
from alimentary matters digested in the intestines, but by
the constant secretion of fluids abounding in corpuscles de¬
rived from the blood-glands on the one hand, and lymph and
matters absorbed into the circulation from the tissues of the
economy on the other. Of this latter process, however, we
shall speak subsequently. The formation of blood is un¬
doubtedly connected with the reception of chyle and the
function of the blood-glands. The former furnishes the
proximate nutritive principles—albuminous, fatty, and mi¬
neral—reduced to a fine emulsion. In the blood-glands
are produced the corpuscles according to the laws of cell
growth, which, floating in the fluid, become more and more
developed as they flow along the lacteals, and through the
lymphatic glands towards the blood, on reaching which they
are immediately transmitted through the right side of the
heart to the lungs, and become blood corpuscles. Whether
all the corpuscles formed in the blood-glands, and more
especially in the spleen, reach the circulation through the
thoracic duct, is doubtful. It is probable that the Mal¬
pighian glands of the latter organ may have some direct
connection with the veins, although this has not been clearly
demonstrated anatomically. The blood of the splenic vein,
however, is always more rich in colourless cells than any
other kind of blood ; and in certain morbid conditions,
where the spleen and other blood-glands are enlarged, that
fluid is crowded throughout with colourless cells, con¬
stituting a morbid condition Dr Bennett first discovered
and described, denominated Leucocythemia, or white cell-
blood. That the corpuscles formed in these glands, therefore,
do get into the blood is certain, although the channel by
which they do so has not yet been clearly demonstrated.
In the lungs most of the corpuscles in a state of health
become coloured, and the blood itself undergoes important
alterations.
Circulation of the Blood.—Having seen how the nu¬
tritive elements of the food are converted into blood, the
method by which it is distributed or circulated throughout
the organism should next be described. This circulation is
carried on through the heart, the arteries, the capillaries or
intermediary vessels and veins, back to the heart again.
In the higher animals, there may be said to be two circu¬
lations, one connected with the body generally—the sys¬
temic or greater circulation—the other with the lungs—the
pulmonary or lesser circulation. Let us suppose that it
commences with the left ventricle of the heart (see diagram,
9). The blood passes from thence by the aorta through
the systemic arteries into the capillaries, and back by the
veins to the right auricle of the heart. From thence it
goes into the right ventricle of the same organ through the
pulmonary artery to the capillaries of the lung, in which it
is exposed to the atmosphere, and then back through the
pulmonary veins to the left auricle and left ventricle, where
0 L O G Y.
we saw that it commenced. In this constant round it is Physiology
subject,—> 1^, To various forces which serve to propel it; ^
and 2d, To different changes, the result of the respiratory
and nutritive processes.
1. The most important force which propels the blood is
induced by the contractions of the muscular walls of the
heart, an organ so constructed that, by the union of con¬
tractile cavities and valves, the fluid is constantly sent
through it only in certain directions. (For a description of
the heart, see Anatomy.) The action of this apparatus is
accompanied by certain noises, caused by the combined
contraction of the muscular walls, the rushing of the fluid,
and the flapping together of the valves, an exact apprecia¬
tion of which is the method by which the modern physi¬
cian is enabled, with wonderful accuracy, to determine the
diseases or derangements of the organ. The apex of the
heart also is at each ventricular contraction tilted upwards
and forwards, so as to strike the chest anteriorly between
the fifth and sixth ribs, a little below and to the inside of
the left nipple. This is caused by the peculiar spiral ar¬
rangement of its contractile fibres. The inner surface of
the heart is considerably more irritable than the outer, and
the right auricle retains the power of contractility longer
than any other part of the body, and has consequently been
called ultimum moriens. The blood is the natural stimu¬
lus to this contractility, and hence why, the more blood is
forced into it as the result of exercise and increased res¬
piration, the more rapid its actions become. The heart,
however, will continue to contract regularly when cut out
of the body of an animal recently killed, and when deprived
of blood, but then the stimulus is supplied by the air, or
by the table on which it lies. Under any circumstances,
the rhythmical action of its various parts is owing to the
distribution of ganglionic nerves in its substance, con¬
stituting one of the excito-motory actions which will be
subsequently described. The heart is also readily excited
by various emotions of the mind, though not by volition ;
hence in ancient times it was considered the peculiar seat
of the affections and passions, an opinion which may be
still traced in numerous expressions common to the phra¬
seology of all languages even in the present day.
The force with which the left ventricle of the heart
contracts is about double that exerted by the contraction of
the right, which results from the greater thickness of its
walls, and the greater resistance it has to overcome. It
has been calculated that the static force with which the
blood is impelled in the human aorta from the ventricle is
equal to that of 4 lb. 4 oz., and in that of a mare is
equal to 11 lb. 9 oz. The frequency of the heart’s action
is modified by a variety of circumstances, which we shall
allude to immediately when speaking of the pulse. The
arteries are tubes composed of elastic and contractile fibrous
tissues, the former being most abundant in the largest
vessels, where the pressure is greatest, while the latter
exists almost alone, where the impulse of the heart is
scarcely felt. Their functions are,—ls£, The conveyance
and distribution of blood to several parts of the body; 2c?,
The gradual conversion of the pulsatile or wave-like move¬
ments into a uniform flow.
The blood nowhere passes through an artery so rapidly as
it is forced into it by the left ventricle of the heart, on account
of the resistance offered by all the tubes against which it is
forced. The consequence is, that when it receives the wave
of blood, both the diameter and length of the vessel is in¬
creased, and this is followed by a recoil and recovery of its
previous position, owing to the elasticity of the tube. These
operations constitute the pulse, which is felt when the finger
slightly compresses an artery. The pulse differs after
violent exercise, according to the time of the day and posi¬
tion of the body. Exercise raises the pulse. It is quicker
in the morning than in the evening ; and hence, it has been
662
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology supposed, why a glass of wine is more stimulating early in
the day than at night. In health, the pulse reaches its
maximum about noon, and its minimum towards midnight.
It is more frequent in the erect than in the sitting position,
and quicker then than in the recumbent posture. The
difference between standing and sitting is about 10 pulsa¬
tions ; between sitting and lying, 5 ; and between standing
and lying, 15 pulsations; much, however, depends on the
muscular effort employed. The natural pulse in the adult
male may be stated as varying between 60 and 70 pulsations
in the minute; that of the female being, on an average,
about 10 beats more. In a newly-born infant, it is from
130 to 140; in old age, from 50 to 60. In diseases, the
deviation from the healthy standard as to frequency is very
remarkable. It has been known in profound coma to be
only 17, and in cases of water in the brain in children it
has been counted 200 in the minute. The volume or force
of the pulse may also vary ; hence the terms strong or weak,
full or small, hard or soft, rigid, tense, wiry, thready, &c.
As regards rhythm, it may be regular, irregular, unequal,
The circulation presents peculiarities—ls£, In different PhysioloSy
parts of the body ; 2d, In the foetus; 3d, In various animals,
to particularize which here would lead us too far. One of
the most important of these peculiarities occurs in the
cranium, which being an unyielding osseous case, its con¬
tents are pressed upon by the atmosphere from below, like
an inverted jar in a pneumatic trough. The result is, that
so long as the cranial walls are uninjured, it must always
hold the same amount of fluid. Hence the notion, that by
general or local bleeding you can draw blood from the
brain, is erroneous, although, by weakening the action of the
heart, it is of course possible to diminish the pressure it
exercises on the cerebral vessels.
2. The changes which the circulating fluid undergoes
during its transit through the body are, the conversion
of arterial into venous blood in the systemic capillaries,
and its re-conversion into arterial blood in the pulmonary
capillaries. This leads us to discuss in the next place the
function of
Respiration.—This is carried on by means of lungs, the
structure of which organs is so arranged as to expose
intermittent, jerking, &c ,
The capillaries, as was previously remarked, consist of large surface, covered with capillary blood-vessels, to the
dicate membranous contractile tubes, and their functions action of the atmosphere. The dilation of the chest dur-
delicate
seem to be,’—ls£, rl o subdivide the blood, so that it may be
brought within the attractive influence of the tissues;
and, 2d, To act as fine filters, permitting an exchange of
matter to be constantly carried on between the blood and
tne textures. In the transparent webs of certain animals,
the blood may be seen passing through these tubes in a
state of health with a uniform flow. There is no evidence
that they exercise any influence in propelling the blood by
contracting their walls, but there is every reason to suppose
that the constant attraction exerted by the tissues in draw¬
ing nutritive matter from the blood must exercise a con¬
siderable power in drawing the blood onwards. We observe
this in plants and animals which have no hearts or con¬
tractile vessels to propel the nutritive fluid, and we see
it strongly manifested where, in consequence of increased
local growth, the blood increases in a part, as in the scalp
during the annual growth of the stag’s horns, in the breast
during lactation, in the gums during dentition, and so on.
In all such cases the vessels of the part are enlarged and
turgid with blood, a phenomenon formerly ascribed vaguely
to a “ determination of blood to the part,” but now known
to result from the increased attractive force exercised by the
tissues on the blood in places which are the seat of exces¬
sive local growth. The same theory serves to explain, as
we shall subsequently see, the phenomenon of the morbid
process known as inflammation.
The veins arise from the capillaries, and are similar in
structure to the arteries, with the exception that the elastic
tissue is not so thick. It has been supposed that the forces
propelling the blood through the arteries and capillaries are
sufficient to cause its return to the heart through the veins,
but this is assisted by internal valves and by the respira¬
tory movements of the chest. The former are numerous,
and so arranged that the blood can never return towards
the capillaries. Every motion of the body and contraction
of the muscles through which veins pass must, by compress¬
ing them, and thereby squeezing the blood towards the
heart, assist its transit. Expiration favours the flow of
blood in the arteries, and inspiration favours it in the veins,
but does not operate in vessels distant from the thorax,
and even in them to no great extent.
It is very difficult to determine the rapidity of the blood
in different parts of the circulation. The most satisfactory
results have been arrived at from watching the period oc¬
cupied by poisons in passing from one part of the body to
another, as in the experiments of Blake. From them it
would appear that a portion of blood can traverse the entire
circulation in the horse in half a minute.
ing ordinary inspiration is principally owing to the contrac¬
tion and descent of the diaphragm muscle. But when a
deep breath is taken, the cavity of the chest is further
dilated by the intercostal, scaleni, serrati, and other mus¬
cles. Expiration ordinarily is owing to the elasticity of the
lungs and walls of the chest, aided by the contractions of
the abdominal muscles. During forced expiration the
longissimus Dorsi, Sacro lumbales, and other muscles, co¬
operate.
The number of respirations which occur in the minute
during health are from fourteen to eighteen, but in disease
they have been known to be so low as seven, and so high
as a hundred. The amount of air inspired also varies; in
health ranging from 20 to 25 cubic inches (Coathupe). A
man’s average breathing capacity is best tested by a forcible
expiration, which yields, according to Hutchinson, 225 cubic
inches, as measured by the spirometer.
The great change which the atmospheric air undergoes
in going into and coming out of the lungs is the removal
of a portion of the oxygen and the substitution of a quan¬
tity of carbonic acid gas. For a long time it was supposed
that the loss of the one was exactly equal to the production
of the other, but it is now known that the volume of
oxygen which is absorbed is far greater than that of the
carbonic acid given off; and hence we must conclude
that the former gas serves not only for the oxidation of
carbon, but also of hydrogen in the animal organism. It
the air be already charged in some degree with carbonic
acid gas, the quantity exhaled is much less, a circumstance
which strongly points out the necessity of ventilation. It
is not sufficient for health that a room should contain the
quantity of air requisite for the respiration of its inhabitants
during a given time, since long before its exhaustion it will
contain a quantity of carbonic acid sufficient to interfere with
the necessary excretion from the blood. Hence the head¬
ache and other symptoms often experienced in breathing
confined air. The manner in which oxygen is absorbed
and carbonic acid given off, seems owing to the physical
law described by Professor Graham with respect to diffu¬
sion of gases ; and the quantity of the former which enters
will be much greater than that of the latter, which passes
out in the proportion of 1174 to 1000. The one-sixth of
oxygen which thus enters the body, and is not converted
into carbonic acid, is supposed to combine with hydrogen,
furnished by the food and by the disintegration of the tis¬
sues, to produce water. Part of the water so formed is
again exhaled in the form of vapour from the lungs, whilst
another part is used in oxidizing the sulphur and phos-
PHYSIOLOGY.
663
Physiology phorus taken in with the food, and excreted chiefly in the
condition of sulphuric and phosphoric acids. The absolute
quantity of solid carbon given off by the lungs is about 160
grains per hour, or 8 oz. troy in the twenty-four hours.
1 he amount of watery vapour given off varies from 6 to
27 oz., according to the nature of the diet, amount of exer¬
cise, temperature, humidity of the atmosphere, &c., &c.
As regards the effects of respiration on the blood, the most
striking is the change of colour of the claret-like venous
into the bright scarlet of arterial blood. The tempe¬
rature of arterial blood is one or two degrees higher than
venous blood. (Davy.) The specific gravity and number
of corpuscles also are said to be somewhat greater, and
it contains a larger amount of oxygen and less carbonic
acid.
Numerous chemical theories have been advanced to ex¬
plain the manner in which oxygen is removed from the
inspired air, and a quantity of carbonic acid gas added to
expired air. To describe and criticise them in this article
would be impossible with the limits prescribed us. Be¬
sides, whether the oxygen, after forming an acid, unites
with the alkalies, whether it attaches itself to the corpuscles
or to the fibrin, or unites with phosphorus and fatty matter,
are points not yet finally determined.
If respiration be embarrassed or difficult, it constitutes
dyspnoea ; if arrested, from exclusion of atmospheric air,
asphyxia is produced. As a general rule, if the air be cut
oft' from the lungs of a warm-blooded animal by strangu¬
lation or immersion in water, all external muscular move¬
ments will cease in a period varying from three to five
minutes, and the circulation comes to a stop in two min¬
utes. Some individuals, by force of habit, seem to have
acquired the power of retaining their consciousness for a
considerable time under water, as in the divers of Ceylon,
some of whom have been known to remain immersed and
actively picking up oysters from three to five minutes.
This period, under ordinary circumstances, is sufficient to
induce death, for few persons recover who have been under
water four minutes. Exceptional instances indeed are on
record where persons have revived after a submersion of
half an hour. It is supposed, however, that in these a state
of syncope was occasioned at the moment of immersion,
from fear, mental emotion, or concussion of the brain, so
that in them respiration did not exist in its full activity.
To restore asphyxiated persons no time should be lost.
The individual should be immediately placed on the abdo¬
men, with one of the arms below the forehead, to prevent
the possibility of the nose and mouth being compressed by
the ground. The body should then be alternately rolled
on the side, and again placed on the abdomen, so as to
imitate the compression and expansion of the chest in respi¬
ration. The extremities should be assiduously rubbed,
especially pressing upwards, and warmth applied.
Stage III.—Passage of Fluid from the Flood to he trans¬
formed into the Tissues.
We have now seen how nutritive matter enters the
body, and the changes it undergoes to be transformed into
blood. We have also seen how the blood is carried to all
parts of the organism. We have next to trace how that or¬
ganism is built up and maintained by substances derived
from that blood.
We have previously shown that the tissues have a vital
property of attraction and selection, whereby the necessary
materials are drawn through the delicate membranous
walls of the capillaries, and transformed chemically and
structurally into the textures. We are forced to adopt this
theory, for it can easily be shown that all the tissues depend
on one fluid, the blood, for their nourishment; whilst it
is also clear that this same fluid in different tissues and
organs gives rise to different chemical and structural re- Physiology
suits. In this manner an animal is maintained for a series v j ;
of years with the same physical characters, the different
proportions between the supply and loss causing the rapid
growth of the young, the stationary period of adult life,
and the decline of age. Of the ultimate causes of the
different variations in growth we know nothing. All that
science can accomplish is to obtain a knowledge of the
conditions on which it depends. Some of these we have
spoken of when describing the cell theory, but there are
four others to which we shall allude in this place.
1. A healthy quality of the blood is necessary for a
healthy formation of texture, and this implies that all the
processes of nutrition should be properly performed, in¬
cluding digestion, assimilation, respiration, secretion, excre¬
tion, and so on. Any one of these being disturbed, growth
of the body, in whole or in part, may be faulty from want
of appropriate material. The blood, however, enjoys to a
certain extent the power of spontaneously correcting its
own deteriorations, and if these be not excessive or too long
continued, it rapidly separates, or gets rid of them by means
of some apparatus, and its normal characters are restored.
We are continually meeting with these occurrences during
our observation of disease ; and in this way we account
for and see the use of occasional diaphoresis, diarrhoea, epis-
taxis, loaded urine, and so on. It is also possible that the
excretion of one substance is more or less connected with
the formation of another, as in the instances of what Mr
Paget calls complemental nutrition, of which the growth of
the beard in man, and of the mammae in females at the
period of puberty, are illustrations.
2. A proper quantity of blood in a part is also essential
for growth, as is proved by the effects of those occurrences
which, by destroying or injuring the principal vessel leading
to it, causes its wasting or death. It is also observable
that whenever parts are actively growing, they attract more
blood to them than usual, showing that there is an inti¬
mate relation between activity of formation and the quantity
of blood in the textures.
3. A certain influence of the nervous system is so blended
and mingled with nutrition of parts in the higher animals
that the improvement of the one materially interferes
with the advancement of the other. Thus there is scarcely
an organ in the body the functions of which may not be
more or less deranged by various conditions of the mind.
Hope and confidence are highly favourable to the resolution
of numerous diseases; while fear and a foreboding of evil
seldom fail to aggravate the most simple maladies, and in
dangerous ones often render them fatal. Destruction of a
nerve leading to apart, not only may cause wasting of the
tissue, but often ulceration and destruction of it. The same
occurs when disease attacks the spinal cord.
4. A healthy state of the part to be nourished is as ne¬
cessary for growth as the other conditions mentioned. If
the property of attracting and selecting materials from the
blood be inherent in the textures themselves, as we have
seen is probable, it follows that, if these textures be se¬
riously altered or destroyed, the property will also be altered
or destroyed. Now, this is what really takes place, and
hence why so many diseases of texture, once occasioned,
are kept up in spite of all the interference of art. Such is
the reason, also, that blows and other injuries, by exciting
or diminishing the vital properties of the textures, give rise
to what are called inflammations, tumours, and other forms
of so-called morbid growths.
Such are the conditions which serve to regulate growth
in the animal economy. The process may be in excess
or diminution, constituting what is called hypertrophy and
atrophy. There is one modification of growth, however,
which we must refer to especially, and which has long been
known under the name of secretion.
664
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology Secretion.—This process was for a long time considered
as one opposed to growth ; that is, as a function having tor its
object to separate matters from, while growth was directed
to storing up or adding them to, the organism. We now
know that secretion is simply a form of growth, and is cai-
ried on under the influence of the same laws which regulate
the development, maturation, and decline of nucleated ceils
in o-eneral, and of the conditions just referred to in parti¬
cular. Under the head of “ Cell Tissues ” we have alluded to
the peculiar properties of secreting cells. They are gene¬
rally formed on one side of a basement membrane, while on
the other side blood-vessels are distributed, from which
their contents are derived. The variations in glands simp y
result from the convolutions and greater or less complexity
of these universal gland elements. No relation apparently
exists between the structure of the glandular apparatus, 01
the nerves supplying it, and the secretion it pours foiti.
Thus the pancreas, the lacrymal and mammary glands, are
very much alike in their anatomical elements, although the
pancreatic and lacrymal fluids and milk are widely different.
This fact is sufficient to convince us that a property of a
peculiar kind, essentially vital, must reside in the cells
themselves, which occasions these results.
Stage IV.—Disappearance of the Transformed Tissues,
and their Re-absorption into the Blood.
While, on the one hand, matters are always passing from
the blood to build up the tissues, on the other, matters are
continually passing into the blood from those tissues which
have fulfilled their appointed functions. I he new material
takes exactly the place and form of the old ; so that the
general configuration of the body is preserved, while
continually and imperceptibly undergoing a change. Al¬
though in adult animals we cannot see the tissues forming,
in the embryo we can, and are consequently enabled to
infer the steps of the process. But we cannot see the
healthy tissues disintegrating and absorbing, even in the
embryo; and this source of information is therefore cut off
from us. Almost all that we know of this process, from ac¬
tual observation, is derived from the study of morbid ana¬
tomy. From tins we learn that new formations, such as
pus and cancer cells, break down and are reduced to a fluid
state in the inverse order to that in which they were de¬
veloped. Thus a fluid exudation is poured out from the
vessels. It coagulates in the form of molecules and gran¬
ules. These unite to form nuclei, around which cell-
walls are produced. If this be their ultimate point of de¬
velopment, they are again reduced to the fluid state, first
by the solution of the cell-wall, and subsequently by that
of the nucleus. The whole now again presents a molecu¬
lar and granular aspect, whilst the more fluid portions again
pass through the walls of the blood-vessels, and enter the
circulation. We do not see this process in health, but doubt¬
less particle after particle of solid matter is reduced to fluid,
and disappears, in order to give place to new particles, which
for a time become solid, assume form, fulfil their func¬
tion and allotted period of life, and then dissolve, are ab¬
sorbed and excreted as their predecessors were before them.
Function of the Blood.—The blood, therefore, is a won¬
derfully complex fluid, partly made up of organic mate¬
rials derived from the alimentary canal and blood-glands (pn-
mary digestion), partly derived from organic materials de¬
rived from the tissues and gaseous fluids received from the
atmosphere through the lungs (secondary digestiori). The
constituents thus obtained from such various sources are
modelled and changed during the circulation, so that they
may readily pass off by other channels, and so escape from
the economy. The stream of blood carries them to the
various excretory organs, where they are separated; and
thus the vast importance of a continued circulation of
fluid is made manifest, not only in carrying materials of physiology
growth to build up the frame, but in removing the effete v—'
or worn-out particles which have fulfilled their office. In
this manner the circulation of the blood may be compared
to a river flowing through a populous city, which not only
supplies the wants of its inhabitants, but conveys from
them all the impurities which, through numerous channels,
find their way into its stream. The general properties of
this fluid now demand attention.
The blood corpuscles of which we have previously
spoken float in a straw-coloured transparent fluid, the liquor
sanguinis, which, when it ceases to circulate in the vessels,
has the property of coagulating. This may be seen under
the microscope to take place, in consequence of the depo¬
sition of the fibrin held in solution, in the form of mole¬
cular fibres, whereby a fibrous mesh-work is produced, en¬
tangling the corpuscles. The clot of the blood, therefore, is
composed of the fibrin and corpuscles, while the serum is
set free. When the blood coagulates slowly, or is unusu¬
ally viscous from an increase of its fibrin, the corpuscles
sink to the bottom, leaving a colourless layer on the sur¬
face of the clot, which was formerly supposed erroneously
to be a distinctive sign of inflammation. In addition to
fibrin, the liquor sanguinis holds in solution albumen, fat,
and salts, and all those substances which are necessary, di¬
rectly or indirectly, for the formation of the tissues and
secretions. It may be regarded as the most elaborated por¬
tion of the blood, inasmuch as the corpuscles are dissolved
in it; and, as previously stated, it receives the results both
of the primary and secondary digestions. So prepared, it is
the essential material or nourishing fluid, which, attracted
through the capillaries by the tissues, is the foundation for
all the formative processes of the economy.
Chemical Composition of the Blood.— 1 he chemical con¬
stitution of the blood has been investigated by numerous
distinguished chemists. We give the results arrived at,
from a large number of data, by Becquerel and Rodier:
Table, showing the Maxima, Minima, and Average Num¬
bers of the Different Constituents in 1000 parts of the
Blood of Man :—
^ Mean.
Density of defibrinated blood 1060 2
Density of serum  1028'0
Water  779-0
Blood corpuscles   141-1
Albumen   69-4
Fibrin   2-2
Extractive matters and free salts 6"8
Fatty matters  1-600
Serolin  '020
Phosphorized fat    '488
Cholesterin   -088
Saponified fat  1-004
From 1000 parts of blood, after calcination, they obtained—
Chloride of sodium  31 4-2 2 3
Other soluble salts  ... 2-5 3 2 2 0
IronV.  -565 '633 '508
Maxima.
10620
10300
800-0
152-0
730
3o
80
3-255
•080
1000
•175
2-000
Minima.
1058-0
1027-0
760-0
1310
620
1-5
5-0
1-000
impond.
•270
•030
•700
We may say that the chemical composition of the blood in
a general way is as follows :—ls£, The great bulk of
the blood is made up of water, varying in a healthy state
from 760 to 800 parts in 1000; 2d, The fibrin is small
in quantity, varying from to 3 parts ; 3d, The amount
of albumen ranges between 60 and 70 parts ; 4^/t, The
blood corpuscles vary from 130 to 150 parts; 5th, Ihe
extractive matters and fat range from 1 to 4 parts; and
6th, The saline matters range from 5 to 10 parts. These
are not the exact proportions, but approximative results
which are more easily retained by the mind. The mean
amount of this fluid in the human adult male is 34j?
lb. ; in the female, 26 lb. (Valentin.) These various
results differ in diseased conditions of the body, con-
Physiology cerning which the following conclusions were formed by
~ Becquerel and Rodiert-W, That the simple fact of
the development of a disease almost always modifies in
a notable manner the composition of that fluid. 2d,
7/at venesection exercises a remarkable influence on
the composition of the blood ; the more marked, the
o ener jt is repeated. Under these circumstances, the
blood is impoverished and rendered more watery: the
albumen is slightly diminished; the fibrin, extractive
matters, and free salts are not influenced, but there is
a decided diminution of the corpuscles. 3rf, That in a ple¬
thoric condition of the system there is no relative increase
in the number of the corpuscles, or in fact in any other
change in the composition of the blood; it is simply the mass
of the blood that is increased. 4^, That anaemia is cha-
racterized by a diminution in the amount of the corpuscles.
j JLhat inflammation induces an increase of the fibrin
and of the cholestenne ; the former varying from 4 to 10
and the latter being almost doubled. The albumen is di¬
minished. 6M, That the amount of fibrin is diminished,
and possibly its physical conditions altered, under two con¬
ditions. 1 he first embraces fevers, exanthematous diseases,
and intoxication; the second, starvation and purpura hcemor-
agica. 7th,^[ hat when any of the secretions are checked
their essential principles are contained in the blood in
excess, for instance, when secretion of the urine is sup¬
pressed, urea is found in the blood; when the bile is not
excreted, it abounds in the blood, &c. And, 8th, That
— (!,STSeS m Which the albumen of the blood is
aSns nTi; h ’~V1Z-’ in Bright’S disease’ in certai"
affections of the heart accompanied by dropsy, and in se¬
vere cases of puerperal fever.
Animal Heat.-—Many of the processes we have described
el an exchanSe of chemical elements,
iich, in the act of forming new combinations, evolve heat
Ihus the union of oxygen with the blood in the lungs, and
the formatmn of carbonic acid gas in the capillaries make
up together the amount of animal heat found in the bodv
1 he average temperature, as estimated by placing a ther¬
mometer m those internal parts which are most easily
accessible >s from 98° to 100° Fahrenheit. In children it is
bout 2 higher. In febrile diseases it has been observed
to rise to the height of 108°-5 in children, and to 107° in
a u ,lat.lc cholpra it may sink to 77°, or even lower
and the breath itself feels cool to the naked hand. The
natural temperature of the body, though slightly affected
by temperature, food, and exercise, is on the whole pretty
stationary ; a circumstance which for the most part is owW
to the power of evaporation possessed by the skin. Hence
the danger of suddenly checking perspiration, in exposing
the surface to cold. The temperature of the various tribes
of animals differs considerably, birds having a higher, and
reptiles and fishes a much lower temperature than mammals
according to the medium they live in. They cannot, how¬
ever, endure severe changes in external heat and cold.
Man alone, by his power over food and the supply of artifi¬
cial clothing and exercise, is enabled to bear without in-
jui y extremes of atmospheric temperature that no other
animal could endure.
We have seen that more oxygen is taken in by the lungs
than escapes from them in the form of carbonic acid gas.
bis excess, by uniting in the tissues with the carbon and
hydrogen received into the system as food, produces heat;
and the carbon in its conversion into carbonic acid, and the
nydrogen in its change into water, gives off exactly the
same amount of heat as if these processes had been carried
b" ” a 0;. th<I Hence the quantity of heat generated
snnnb the activity of respiration and the
in ^ • yi 0 di ^ 1US tJle resPirat°ry process is most active
anrl in’ a?id they pn SSeSS the hiShest animal temperature ;
and in reptiles, m whom respiration is slow, the heat evolved
VOL. XVII.
PHYSIOLOGY.
in
abundant, the quantity of food taken is greater than amono-
tie inhabitants of tropical countries. The nature of the
food, also, m the one, abounding in fatty and oily substances
rich m carbon and hydrogen, is better adapted to combine
Z'rl7 H 6 f CeSS,°f OXySen tllan the vegetable and
&ta.chy compounds used m others. The effects of alcohol,
a highly carbonaceous substance, in keeping up animal heat
n .'ke "Jann,e.r tkus exP!amed ; a substance which, rapidly
entering the blood combines with the excess of oxygen
and thus supports the temperature of the bodv when ex¬
haustion from want of food, or from exercise too long con¬
tinued, has been occasioned. Thus, in the words of LiebU
to whom we are indebted for establishing this theory of
animal heat, “ The animal body acts as a furnace which
we supply with fuel. It signifies nothing what intermediate
forms food may assume, or what changes it may undergo in
t e body ; the last change is uniformly the conversion of its
carbon into carbonic acid, and of its hydrogen into water;
the unassimilated nitrogen of the food, along with the un¬
burned or unoxidized carbon, is expelled in the urine or
m the solid excrements. In order to keep up in the fur¬
nace a constant temperature, we must vary the supply of
fuel according to the external temperature, that is, accord¬
ing to the supply of oxygen. Hence, in the animal or¬
ganism two processes of oxidation are going on ; one in
t le lungs, the other in the capillaries. By means of the
former, in spite of the degree of cooling, and of the in-
ci eased evaporation which takes place there, the constant
temperature of the lungs is kept up, while the heat of the
rest of the body is supplied by the latter.”
Stage V.—Discharge of Effete Matters from, the Body in
Various Forms and by Different Channels.
We have already seen that the textures of the body, while
they are continually assimilating new particles of matter
rom the blood are constantly giving up to that fluid the
particles which have lived and are worn out. These in a
flmd form, but more or less chemically changed, constitute
tie fibrin, and a portion of the fat, extractive matters, and
salts which circulate in that fluid. They are the results of
the disintegration of the tissues,—that is, of the secondary
digestion of organic matter which takes place in the body —
and bemg useless, are now separated from the economy in
tne following ways, as— J
1. Excretion from the Lungs.—A large amount of wa¬
tery vapour and of carbonic acid are, as we have seen, con¬
tinually passing off from the lungs. The water thus ex¬
haled da.ly varies from 6 to 27 oz., and the carbon, in the
form of carbonic acid, separated in the same space of time
amounts to 8 oz. troy. In addition, then, to considering the
lungs as organs which supply oxygen to the blood, and as
supporters of animal heat, they must be regarded as an ap¬
paratus of excretion, whereby oxygen, hydrogen, and car¬
bon are continually separated from the body in a given
form. Under the heads of Respiration and Animal Heat we
nave sufficiently dwelt on these points.
2. Excretion from the Liver.—^We, as we have pre¬
viously seen, is a secretion, but as it is one of those secre¬
tions which are produced in order to be excreted, and as
he principal function of the liver is the separation from the
blood of matters which, if retained, would be iniurious to
it, we must speak of it in this place.
The blood which supplies the liver is, like that which
goes to the lungs, venous, and the portal vein which car¬
ries it there originates for the most part from the intestines
(diagram, 12). Hence it differs (ram other blood in more
■i I'
PHYSIOLOGY.
00 "I/nrimarv known as bilious. This is what happens frequently to Physiology
Physiology frequently containing principles derive iom P Eur0peans in tropical climates. The rarity of the atmos-
digestion, more especially fet, dextrine, and sugar, P  
S not poSsTo Sh* fibrin, a ^stance jrrM
formed from the secondary digestion; so that the c
forms is deficient in firmness. The food, in traverMng
alimentary canal, not only parts wUh substances wh^ch
enter the systemic circulation to form blood, but also with
portions onts material which enter the blood-vessds, and
are at once directed through the porta vein to the liver,
in order to form bile. We can easily understand, therefore,
how rich eating and little exercise favour the production
those symptoms which are denominated bilious.
When the blood arrives by the portal vein at the hvei, it
breaks up into a multitude of minute capillaries, which,
with a mass of secreting cells filling up the interspaces be¬
tween them, are arranged in small masses or lobu es.
vital property of the cells is to attract and select from the
blood materials which they fashion into bde in their inte-
rior, and this is subsequently discharged into ducts, an
accumulated in a gall-bladder until it joins the food in the
duodenum, as previously described. 1 he bile thus formed
is a viscous yellow or greenish fluid, and of stiong bitter
taste, the amount of which formed daily has been estima ^
at 17 or 24 oz., but varies under a great variety of cn-
cumstances. It is composed of water holding salts in solu¬
tion, with about 80 in 1000 parts of mucus, colouring matter,
and fat. The salts are those of soda, potash, and ammonia,
in combination with acids, one of which contains sulphur
as a constituent. The colouring matter is called bzhp/im,
and the fatty matter is composed principally of cholesterme,
mingled with a small proportion of fatty acids.
Bile is excreted in two ways. A portion of it, including the
colouring matter, passes through the whole alimentary canal.
The greater portion, however, is absorbed into the blood, and
is ultimately carried off by the respiratory process in the form
of carbonic acid. The amount of the excretion in these
two wavs varies greatly, one being to a certain extent in¬
creased if the other be diminished. It is absolutely necessary
for the bile to be conducted out of the system, and if, through
any obstruction in the duct, it be prevented from being dis¬
charged, the bile enters the blood, producing jaundice, and
acts as a poison. Although, therefore, the bile is useful as
a secretion in operating on the chyme, there can be no
doubt that its principal function is that of purifying the
blood of hydrogen and carbon, and acting as an excretion.
The liver also secretes a large quantity of free fat, which,
accumulating in the cells of the organ, often causes its en¬
largement, or so-called fatty liver. It has further been
shown by Bernard constantly to secrete a substance which,
when separated, presents all the physical and chemical pro¬
perties of hydrated starch. I he moment this comes in
contact with the blood of the hepatic vein, it is conveited
into sugar, which in its turn is decomposed by the oxygen
of the air in the lungs, and there disappears. If the pul¬
monary action be insufficient to accomplish this, the sugar
becomes in excess in the blood generally, and is excreted
by the kidneys, forming the disease known as diabetes.
Hence also why a section of the pneumo-gastric nerves, in¬
juring the fourth ventricle of the brain, and occasionally
blows on the head, may occasion diabetes. The liver,
whether giving off bile, fat, or starch, is thus evidently a
great excretor of hydro-carbon, which is converted into
water and carbonic acid, and given off by the lungs.
That the lungs and liver are to a certain extent associ¬
ated for the purpose of a common function, is further shown
by the circumstance, that in those cases where the lungs
imperfectly separate carbonic acid gas, the action of the liver
is particularly apt to be disturbed. Thus, if more non-
nitrogenized food be taken than can be got rid of by the
lungs in the form of carbonic acid, the liver pours a greater
quantity of bile into the duodenum, causing those symptoms
nhere and the little exercise which is taken, throws increased
work upon the liver. The appetite is stimulated by drugs
and spices, which increase the disturbance, rendering a re¬
turn to Europe necessary. All such persons, therefore,
should carefully adapt a certain diet to the amount of ex¬
ercise they take and the vigour of the respiration, avoiding
carbonaceous, especially oily food, and alcoholic drinks, and
livino- according to the simple habits of the natives.
Excretion from the Kidneys—The two kidneys con¬
tain in their cortical substance globular convolutions of
capillary vessels, which hang in the blind extremities of
the tubular glands. This arrangement permits the ready
passage of a large amount of water from the blood, which,
as it flows out through the duct, receives the secretion
formed by the cells which line them. The whole accumu¬
lates in the urinary bladder in the form of urine, and is
expelled from time to time voluntarily (diagram, P and R).
The daily amount of urine discharged in a healthy person
is about 35 fluid ounces, of a wine-yellow colour, and is
slightly acid in its re-action on vegetable colours. Its
composition, according to Becquerel, is as follows: •
 967-
  14-230
.... ’468
Water 
Urea 
Uric acid 
Colouring matter 
Mucus and animal extractive matter.
| inseparable.
10-167
Salts..
Silica
Sulphates.
Bi-phosphates.
Chlorides.
Soda
’ \ Potash ....
{Lime 
Soda  
Magnesia .
Ammonia .
| Sodium ....
' | Potassium.
8-135
Hippurate of soda
Vpiuate of soda 
.traces
1000-000
The proportion of these constituents varies greatly, even
in health, according to the amount and quality ot the food
and drink, the occupation, period of hie, sex, and other cir¬
cumstances. In disease the variations are still greater.
The quantity, as a whole, may be increased or dimimshe ,
and the saline constituents may be so augmented as to be
deposited on cooling, causing the formation of various salts.
The urine may also be loaded with foreign substances, as
blood, albumen, pus, sugar, &c. Hence why a careful ex¬
amination of this fluid is so important to the physician as
indicating a variety of morbid conditions, not only ot J e
urinary organs themselves, but of the constitution genera y.
The kidneys, therefore, separate,—H*, A large quantity
of the water which enters the body as drink , , ^ ^1?
materials derived from the primary digestion , an ,
Matters the. result of the secondary digestion, or disinte¬
gration of the tissues. The principal object ot tie u 'ieY
is to separate two substances rich in nitrogen ; so tha , vv u e
the liver may be considered as an organ excreting y 10^
carbon, the kidneys must be regarded as organs w nc i
separate nitrogenous substances. Ihe forms these assume
are two, viz., urea and uric acid. Of the former, 2/0
orains, or more than half an ounce, are excrete ) a
healthy man daily, and of the latter, somewhat more than 8
grains. According to Liebig, when the vital force in tie
albuminous tissues is no longer able to resist the chemica
action of the oxygen which is conveyed to them in t le
arterial blood, it combines with their elements, and lorms
products, among which uric acid is the most important.
But if sufficient oxygen and water be conveyed into the
arterial blood, the greater part of the uric acid, or more in¬
soluble salts, is converted into urea and carbonic acid ; so
"— —- —      ■ 1
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology that the effete nitrogenized elements of the tissues reach the
^ r v J emunctories in a soluble form, a condition necessary for their
ready secretion. Hence the more oxygen enters a tissue
during its disintegration, the more complete will be the
conversion of the insoluble uric acid into the soluble urea,
and the more easy its elimination from the body.
In this manner is explained how the urine of the boa-
constrictor is semi-solid, consisting almost entirely of bi-urate
of ammonia, as the animal eats an enormous meal of nitro¬
genous food; but being a cold-blooded, slowly-respiring
animal, it takes in too little oxygen to convert the uric acid
into urea. On the other hand, the lion and the tiger,
equally carnivorous with the serpent, are rapidly-respiring,
warm-blooded animals ; and although, from their violent
muscular exertions, rapid and great destruction must occur,
seal cely a trace of uric acid is found in their urine, as it is
all converted into urea at the moment of its formation, in
consequence of the abundant supply of oxygen. The non-
nitrogenized elements of our food, however, considerably
interfere with the conversion of uric acid into urea, because
they also combine with oxygen. Hence, according to
Liebig, man, being an omnivorous animal, partakes of a
sufficient amount of food rich in carbon to prevent the
complete conversion of insoluble uric acid into soluble
urea; consequently, the former substance appears in the
urine, its proportion to urea being as 1 to 32.
In addition to urea and uric acid, which are the excretory
products of the nitrogenous compounds, the kidney is con¬
tinually separating from the blood a large quantity of earthy
salts. These are separated daily, to the amount of 138
grains, and they consist of combinations of chlorine, sul¬
phuric, and phosphoric acids, with soda, lime, magnesia, and
potass. Of these, the phosphatic salts are by far the most
important. It has been calculated that about grains of
phosphoric acid are thrown off by the kidneys in twenty-
four hours, which are united to the four bases,—soda, am¬
monia, lime, and magnesia,—forming two double and one
simple salt,—viz., the ammoniaco-phosphate of soda; the
ammoniaco-magnesian, or triple phosphate ; and the phos¬
phate of lime.
Both the organic and mineral products may undergo ex¬
cess or diminution, resulting from derangements in the pri¬
mary or secondary digestive processes. Excess of uric
acid in the blood may arise in two ways, constituting a
tendency to gout or rheumatism,—the first from indulgence
in eating, the second from hard labour and wasting of the
tissues. Or the mineral salts may form in abundance from
eating substances they contain; or from disintegration of
the textures, the result of severe study ; or, as occurs in old
age, from their natural decay.
Excretion from, the Skin.—The skin not only serves as
a most efficient protective covering to the body, but is a
most important organ, constantly excreting watery and
fatty matters. The epidermis, hair, and various appendages
which are constantly growing from the surface, may, in
addition to the special purposes they are fitted for, also be
regarded as excretory.
The water separated from the blood by tubular glands
the so-called sudoriparous or sweat glands—is for the
most part carried off from the surface in the form of vapour
as fast as it is separated. When, from increased exertion
or other cause, the perspiration is augmented in quantity,
or when, from a greater degree of moisture in the atmo¬
sphere, it is not readily evaporated, it becomes visible in the
form of minute drops, which distil from the surface. The
fluid consists principally of water, holding in solution a
small quantity of the salts of soda, potash, and lime, with a
trace of oxide of iron. The amount given off daily varies
greatly—the maximum, according to Seguin, being 5 lb.,
and the minimum, 1 lb. 11 oz. 4 dr. The average quan¬
tity, according to Valentin, is 2* lb. There is an intimate
667
relation between the functions of the skin and those of the Physiology
lungs, and kidneys,—the one being more active when the v -J’y
other is depressed. Animals, on being covered with an
impermeable varnish die, with all the symptoms of as¬
phyxia, while the temperature of the body rapidly sinks 36
degrees. Again, skin diseases, and especially febrile erup¬
tions, materially affect the kidney, and thereby give rise to
secondary dropsies.
An oily fluid is constantly poured out on the skin from
another series of follicular or sebaceous glands, preventino-
it fiom being dried and cracked by the action of the sun
and air. Hence it is more abundant in the races which
inhabit warm climates. In these, and many of the lower
animals, the sebaceous matter possesses a distinctive odour
whereby they can readily be traced by quick-scented dogs!
generally speaking, the oily matter excreted from the skin
is conveyed directly to the hairs or other epidermic ap¬
pendages in those parts of the surface which are supplied
by them. f r
The hair and nails grow from the base of a follicle or
gland, and are developed from the cells formed in the base
of such follicle so as to form a fibrous structure. A hair,
if allowed to grow, tapers towards a point, and then splits
up like a painter’s brush, becomes brittle, and breaks off.
I here can be no doubt that the oily or sebaceous matter
which Nature has provided to lubricate such structures
keeps them soft, and prevents their breaking off too sud¬
denly. The colour of the hair depends upon the presence
of pigment secreted within the cells of the follicle. Well-
authenticated instances of hair turning white in a short
period, from excessive grief or anxiety, are known. Ac¬
cording to Vauquelin, this is owing to the secretion of an
acid fluid, which percolates the hair, and chemically de¬
stroys the colouring matter. In the various classes of ani¬
mals the epidermic appendages serve the purposes of warmth,
of defence, or as aids to the sense of touch ; and the modi¬
fications they undergo,—as seen in horn, the quills of the
porcupine, the feathers of birds, the scales of fishes, the
wing-cases and spines of insects, &c.,—embrace a singular
variety of form, constituted of the same structure.
The colour of the skin was formerly supposed to exist
in a distinct membrane called the rete mucosum, situated
between the epidermis and chorion. It is now known to
depend on the deposition of pigment in the lower cells of
the epidermis, or those nearest the blood-vessels, and to be
influenced by the general laws which regulate the forma¬
tion of pigment in the animal and vegetable worlds.
Excretion from the Intestines.—We have seen that the
solid nutritive matter received as food daily ought to
amount to 30 oz.; of these, 25 oz. are absorbed, and only
5 oz. rejected daily from the intestines. These consist of
certain parts of the food which have escaped the digestive
process, and of various secretions which have been poured
into the alimentary canal during its passage. Among the
latter are numerous crystals of triple phosphate, showing
that earthy matters are excreted in large quantities by this
channel. In the large intestine, and especially in the
caecum, a further chemical change is effected. In the latter
situation the peculiar foecal odour is first produced, owing,
it is supposed, to the secretion of an acrid liquid there,
causing another kind of digestion.
Such is a general sketch of the function of nutrition,
from which we observe, from an extended #point of view,
that it is a continuous round, which in the natural world
may be said to commence with the reception and termi¬
nate with the preparation of aliment, vegetable or animal.
This is observable not only in the “ chemical balance of
organic nature,” so beautifully described by Dumas, but in
the incessant chemical compositions and decompositions, as
well as structural formations and disintegrations, which are
PHYSIOLOGY.
668
Physiology peculiar to all vital entities. If so, it must be apparent
v ir- —/ that our knowledge of the animal economy, and of t e is
eases to which it is liable, can only be elucidated by inves¬
tigating the nature of such chemical and structural changes,
together with the necessary relations that each one bears to
the others, and that it is on such kind of knowledge alone
that medicine as a scientific art can ever repose in security.
We can, for instance, now readily understand how de¬
rangement in one stage of the nutritive process more or less
affects the others. Thus, if alimentary matters are not fur¬
nished in sufficient quantity, and of a proper quality, the
blood is rendered abnormal, and it necessarily follows that
the matters it gives off will be abnormal also, and its sub¬
sequent transformations more or less modified. Again, it
secretion be checked, the blood is not drained of its effete
matter; and if excretion be prevented, the secretions them¬
selves may enter the blood, and act upon it as a poison.
A diseased or morbid state of the blood, therefore, may
arise from either of the stages of nutrition we have described
being rendered irregular, or otherwise abnormal. In what¬
ever part of the circle interruption takes place, it will, it
lon<>- continued, affect the whole. Thus, a bad assimilation
of food produces through the blood bad secretions and ex¬
cretions, whilst an accidental arrest of one of the latter re¬
acts through the blood on the assimilating powers. 1 he forms
of disease thus arising may be endless ; but as regards nu¬
trition, they may all be traced to the following causes
1. An improper quantity or quality of the food.
2. Circumstances preventing assimilation or impeding
application of heat and moisture, the internal use of neu- Physiology
tral salts to dissolve the increase of fibrin in the blood, and
the employment of diuretics and purgatives to assist its
excretion by the kidneys or intestines.
The general principle we are anxious to establish from
this general sketch of the nutritive functions is—that dis¬
eases of nutrition and of the blood are only to be combated
bv an endeavour to restore the deranged processes to their
healthy state, in the order in which they were impaired;
that for this purpose, a knowledge of the process of nutri¬
tion is a preliminary step to the proper treatment of these
affections; that the theory of acting directly on the blood
is incorrect; and that an expectant system is as bad as a
purely empirical one.
FUNCTION OF INNERVATION.
The function of innervation, like that of nutrition, con¬
sists in the performance of various actions, widely different
from each other, although associated together. These
actions lead to the manifestation of intelligence, sensation,
and combined motion, and are dependent on the vitality of
complex organs,—viz., the brain, spinal cord, and nerves.
But as the connection between these cannot be shown to
exhibit such an order of functional sequence as has been
made apparent among the nutritive processes, it will be
necessary to describe them in a different manner.
dpnpral Arranaemenl of the Nervous System.
respiration.
3. Altered quantity or quality of nutritive matters pass¬
ing out of the blood.
4. The accumulation of effete matters in the blood.
5. Obstacles to the excretion of these from the body.
Examples in which each of these causes, separately or
combined, have occasioned disease, are of frequent occui-
rence. It is true that all general diseases are accompanied
by certain changes in the blood, but these changes are to
be removed, not by operating on that fluid directly, but by
obviating or removing those circumstances which have de¬
ranged the stage of nutrition primarily affected. For in¬
stance, a very intense form of disease may be produced in
infants from improper lactation. The remedy is obvious,
and we procure a healthy nurse. Ischuria is followed by
coma, from the accumulation of urea. We give diuretics to
increase the flow of urine, and the symptoms subside. In
the one case we furnish the elementary principles necessary
for nutrition ; in the other, we remove the residue of the
process. In both cases the blood is diseased, but its resto-^
ration to health is produced by acting on a knowledge of
the causes which led to its derangement.
In the same manner we might illustrate the indications
for correct practice in the other classes ol causes tending to
derange the blood, which we have enumerated. Thus,
although there be a proper quantity or quality of the food,
there may be circumstances which impede its assimilation ;
for instance, a too great acidity or irritability of the sto¬
mach, the use of alcoholic drinks, inflammation or cancer
of the organ. It is the discovery and removal of these that
constitute the chief indications of the scientific practitioner.
Again, the capillary vessels become over-distended with
blood, and the exudation of liquor sanguinis to an unusual
amount takes place, constituting inflammation. How is
this to be treated ? In the early stage, topical bleeding,
if directly applied to the part, may diminish the congestion,
and the application of cold will check the amount of exuda¬
tion. But the exudation having once coagulated outside
the vessels, acts as a foreign body, and the treatment must
then be directed to furthering the transformations which
take place in it, and facilitating the absorption and excre¬
tion oi effete matter. This is accomplished by the local
To the eye, the nervous system appears to be composed
of two structures—the gray or ganglionic, and the white or
fibrous. The ganglionic, wlien examined under high powers,
may be seen to be composed of nucleated cells, varying
greatly in size and shape, mingled with a greater or less
number of nerve-tubes, also varying in calibre. The fibres,
as we have previously seen, consist of minute tubes. There
are also bundles of gelatinous or flat fibres, the nature ot
which is much disputed, very common in the olfactory nerve
and sympathetic system of nerves. There can be no doubt
that some nerve-tubes run into the ganglionic corpuscles,
whilst others originate from them. It is also now rendered
certain that the same ganglionic cell may receive and give
off nerve-tubes, each having distinct properties, the one
of conveying the influence ot impressions to, and the other
of conveying influences from, the nervous centres.
The general arrangement of the twTo kinds of structures
should be known. By cerebrum, or brain proper, ought to
be understood that part of the encephalon constituting the
cerebral lobes, situated above and outside the corpus cal¬
losum; by the spinal cord, all the parts situated below this
great commissure, consisting of corpora striata, optic tha-
lami, corpora quadrigemina, cerebellum, pons Varolii, me¬
dulla oblongata, and medulla spinalis. In this way, we
have a cranial and a vertebral portion of the spinal cord.
In the cerebrum, or brain proper, the ganglionic or cor¬
puscular structure is external to the fibrous or tubular.
It presents on the surface numerous anfractuosities, where¬
by a large quantity of matter is capable of being contained
in a small space. This crumpled-up sheet ot gray sub¬
stance has been appropriately called the hemispherical
ganglion. (Solly.) In the cranial portion ot the spinal
cord, the gray matter exists in masses, constituting a chain
of ganglia at the base of the encephalon, more or less con¬
nected with each other and with the white matter ot the
brain proper above, and the vertebral portion ot the cord
below. In this last part of the nervous system the gray
matter is internal to the white, and assumes the form ot
the letter X, having two posterior and two anterior cornua,—
an arrangement which allows the latter to be distributed in
the form of nerve-tubes to all parts of the frame.
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology The white tubular structure of the vertebral portion of
the cord is divided by the anterior and posterior horns of
gray matter, together with the anterior and posterior sulci,
into three divisions or columns on each side. On tracing
these upwards into the medulla oblongata, the anterior and
middle ones may be seen to decussate there with each other,
whilst the posterior columns do not decussate. On tracing
the columns up into the cerebral lobes, we observe that the
anterior or pyramidal tracts send off a bundle of fibres,
which passes below the olivary body, and is lost in the
cetebellum (^Arciform band of Solly). The principal
poition of the tract passes through the corpus striatum, and
anterior portion of the optic thalamus, and is ultimately lost
in the white substance of the cerebral hemispheres. * The
middle column, or olivary tract, may be traced through the
substance of the optic thalamus and corpora quadrigemina,
to be in like manner lost in the cerebral hemispheres. The
posterior column, or restiform tract, passes almost entirely
to the cerebellum.
. In addition to the diverging fibres in the cerebral hemi¬
spheres which may be traced from below upwards, con¬
necting the hemispherical ganglion with the structures
below, the brain proper also possesses bands of transverse
fibres, constituting the commissures connecting the two
hemispheres of the brain together, as well as lono-itudinal
fibres connecting the anterior with the posterior lobes.
In the spinal cord it results, from the investigations of
Lockhart Clarke, that there is a decussation of various
bundles of fibres throughout its whole extent. It is now
also determined that many of the fibres in the nerves may
be traced directly into the gray substance of the cord—a
fact originally stated by Grainger, but confirmed by Bud-m
and Kbllikei. Further, it has recently been shown that, by
means of these fibres, an anastomosis is kept up between the
various columns, even those on both sides of the cord, through
the medium of nerve-cells in the gray matter; an important
fact, principally demonstrated bv the labours of Stillino- Re-
mak, Van der Kolk, Schilling, Kupffer, and Owsjannikow.
These later observations, indeed, open up to us the
probability that the numerous actions hitherto called reflex
are truly direct, and are carried on by a series of nervous
filaments running in different directions, which have yet to
be described. There can be no doubt that they pass and
operate through the cord; and hence the term diastaltic
proposed by Marshall Hall instead of reflex, is in every
CAB D E F Gr
Longitudinal section of the Spinal Cord of the Salmo salar,
cwf obliquely from before inwards, in the course of the
fibres of the anterior root.
Transverse section of the Spinal Cord of the Salmo salar, about two inches from the
Brain, magnified 100 diameters linear.
A. Anterior—B. Posterior Groove—C. Central Canal lined with Epithelium—D. Areola
lissue surrounding the central canal, continuous with the anterior and posterio
grooves—E. Anterior Root—F. Commissural Fibres—G. Posterior Root—H. Areola
lissue—-I. Vertical Fibres of the white substance cut across in the transverse sec
tion—K. Openings of Blood-Vessels cut across—L. Ganglionic Cells.
A. Blood-vessels filled with Blood Corpuscles—B. Areolar Tex-
Central Canal—D. Ganglionic Cells—E. Fibres of
the White Substance originating in the cells and going to
the brain—F. Fibres of the Anterior Root which pass
through the white substance, and pass into the ceils—G.
Pia Mater.
669
Physiology
way more appropriate. The importance of this view ap¬
pears to us so great, that we refer to the accompanying
figures from the Thesis of Owsjannikow,1 showing the
connection of the nerves and ganglionic cells in the spinal
cord of the salmon, as indicative of probable similar rela¬
tions yet to be discovered in man.
General Functions of the Nervous System.
The great difference in structure existing between the
gray and white matter of the nervous system would, d
priori, lead to the supposition that they performed separate
functions. Ihe theory at present entertained on this point
is, that while the gray matter eliminates or evolves nervous
power, the white matter simply conducts to and from this
ganglionic structure the influences which are sent or ori¬
ginate there.
The brain proper furnishes the conditions necessary for
the manifestation of the intellectual faculties properly so
called, of the emotions and passions, of volition, and is
essential to sensation. That the evolution of the power
especially connected with mind is dependent on the hemi¬
spherical ganglion, is rendered probable by the following
facts:—1. In the animal kingdom generally, a correspond¬
ence is observed between the quantity of gray matter,
depth of convolutions, and the sagacity of the animal. 2.
At birth, the gray matter of the cerebrum is very defective;
so much so, indeed, that the convolutions are, as it were,
in the first stage of their formation, being only marked out
by superficial fissures almost confined to the surface of the
brain. As the cineritious substance increases, the intelli¬
gence becomes developed. 3. The results of experiments
by Flourens, Rolando, Hertwig, and others, have shown
that, on slicing away the brain, the animal becomes more
1 Disquisitiones Microscopicce de Medulloo Spinalis Texlura, 1854.
670
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology dull and stupid in proportion to the quantity of cortical
substance removed. 4. Clinical observation points out,
that in those cases in which the disease has been attei-
wards found to commence at the circumference of the
brain, and proceed towards the centre, the mental faculties
are affected first; whereas in those diseases which com¬
mence at the central parts of the organ, and proceed to¬
wards the circumference, they are affected last.
The white tubular matter of the brain proper serves, by
means of the diverging fibres, to conduct the influences
orimnating in the hemispherical ganglion to the nerves
of°the head and trunk, whilst they also conduct the in¬
fluence of impressions made on the trunk, in an inverse
manner, up to the cerebral convolutions. Ihe other
transverse and longitudinal fibres which connect together
the two hemispheres, and various parts of the hemisphe¬
rical ganglion, are probably subservient to that combination
of the mental faculties which characterizes thought.
The spinal cord, both in its cranial and vertebral por¬
tions, furnishes the conditions necessary for combined
movements; and that the nervous power necessary for this
purpose depends upon the gray matter, is rendered pio-
bable by the following facts:—1^, Its universal connection
with all motor nerves. 2J, Its increased quantity in those
portions of the spinal cord from whence issue large nervous
trunks. 3d, Its collection in masses at the origin of such
nerves in the lower animals as furnish peculiar orgmis re-
quirino' a large quantity of nervous power, as in the Trigha
volitans, Baia torpedo, Silurus, &c. 4th, Clinical observa¬
tion points out that, in cases where the central portion of
the cord is affected previous to the external portion, an
individual retains the sensibility of, and power of moving,
the limbs, but wants the power to stand, walk, or keep
himself erect, when the eyes are shut; whereas, when
diseases commence in the meninges of the cord or exter¬
nally, pain, twitchings, spasms, numbness, or paralysis, are
the first symptoms present, dependent on lesion of the white
conducting matter.
The white matter of the cord acts as a conductor, in the
same manner that it does in the brain proper, and there
can be no doubt that the influence arising from impressions
is carried not only along the fibres, formerly noticed, which
connect the brain and two portions of the spinal cord to¬
gether, but along those more recently discovered, which de¬
cussate or anastomose in the cord itself(Brown-Sequard), and
are connected with the ganglionic cells of the gray matter.
The various nerves of the body consist for the most
part of nerve-tubes running in parallel lines. Yet some
contain ganglionic corpuscles, as the olfactory and the
ultimate expansion of the optic and auditory nerves ; whilst
the sympathetic nerve contains in various places not only
ganglia, but gelatinous flat fibres. The posterior roots of
the spinal nerves possess a ganglion, the function of which
is quite unknown. These roots are connected with the
posterior horn of gray matter in the cord, while the ante¬
rior roots are connected with the anterior horns. As re¬
gards function, the nerves may be considered as—ls£,
Nerves of special sensation, such as the olfactory, optic,
auditory, part of the glosso-pharyngeal and lingual branch
of the fifth. 2d, Nerves of common sensation, such as the
greater portion of the fifth, and part of the glosso-pharyn¬
geal. 3d, Nerves of motion, such as the third, fourth,
lesser division of the fifth, sixth, facial, or portio dura of
the seventh, and the hypo-glossal. 4th, Senso-motory or
mixed nerves, such as the pneumo-gastric, third division
of the fifth, and the spinal nerves. 5th, Sympathetic nerves,
including the numerous ganglionic nerves of the head,
thorax, and abdomen,—the exact function of which has not
yet been fully investigated, although they seem to influence
the excito-motory and excito-nutrient acts of the internal
viscera and organs of sense.
All nerves are endowed with a peculiar vital property physiology
called sensibility, inherent in their structure, by virtue of
which they may be excited on the application of appropriate
stimuli, so as to transmit the influence of the impressions
they receive to or from the brain, spinal cord, or certain
o-amdia, that may be considered as nervous centres.
The nerves of special sensation convey to their nervous
centres the influence of impressions caused by odoriferous
bodies, by light, sound, and by sapid substances. The
nerves of common sensation convey the influence of im¬
pressions to their nervous centres, caused by mechanical
or chemical substances. The nerves of motion carry/rora
the nervous centres the influence of impressions, whether
psychical or physical. (Todd.) The mixed nerves carry
the influence of stimuli both to and from, combining in
themselves the functions of common sensation and of mo¬
tion. Although the sympathetic nerves also undoubtedly
carry the influences of impressions, the direction of these
cannot be ascertained, from their numerous anastomoses,
as well as from the ganglia scattered over them, all of which
act as minute nervous centres. But there are cases where
certain psychical stimuli (as the emotions) act on organs
through these nerves, and where certain diseases (as colic,
gallstones, &c.) excite through them sensations of pain.
Sensation may be defined to be the consciousness of an
impression ; and that it may take place, it is necessary,—
ls£, That a stimulus should be applied to a sensitive nerve,
which produces an impression ; 2d, That, in consequence
of this impression, a something should be generated, we
designate an influence, which influence is conducted along
the nerve to the hemispherical ganglion ; 3d, On arriving
there, it calls into action that faculty of the mind called
consciousness or perception, and sensation is the result.
It follows that sensation may be lost by any circumstance
which destroys the sensibility of the nerve to impressions ;
which impedes the process of conducting the influence
generated by these impressions; or, lastly, which renders
the mind unconscious of them. Illustrations of how sensa¬
tion may be affected in all these ways must be familiar to
every one, from circumstances influencing the ultimate ex¬
tremity of a nerve, as on exposing the foot to cold ; from
injury to the spinal cord, by which the communication
with the brain is cut off; or from the mind being inatten¬
tive, excited, or suspended.
The independent endowment of nerves is remarkably
well illustrated by the fact, that whatever be the stimulus
which calls their sensibility into action, the same result is
occasioned. Mechanical, chemical, galvanic, or ofaevphysi¬
cal stimuli, when applied to the course or the extremities
of a nerve, cause the very same results as may originate
from suggestive ideas, perverted imagination, or psychi¬
cal stimuli. Thus a chemical irritant, galvanism, or prick¬
ing and pinching a nerve of motion, will cause convulsion
or spasms of the muscles to which it is distributed. 1 he
same stimuli applied to a nerve of common sensation will
cause pain, to the optic nerve flashes of light, to the audi¬
tory nerve ringing sounds, and to the tip of the tongue
peculiar tastes. Again, we have lately had abundant op¬
portunities of witnessing suggestive ideas, or stimuli origin¬
ating in the mind, induce peculiar effects on the muscles,
give rise to pain or insensibility, and cause perversion of all
the special senses. (See “ Mono-ideism,” in a subsequent
section of this article.)
Motion is accomplished through the agency of muscles,
which are endowed with a peculiar vital property called
contractility, in the same wray that nerve is endowed with
the property of sensibility. Contractility may be called
into action altogether independent of the nerves (Haller),
as by stimulating an isolated muscular fasciculus directly.
(Weber.) It may also be excited by physical or psychi¬
cal stimuli, operating through the nerves. Physical stimuli
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology (as pricking, pinching, galvanism, &c.), applied to the ex-
tremities or course of a nerve, may cause convulsions of
the parts to which the motor filaments are distributed
directly, or they may induce combined movements in other
parts of the body diastaltically (Marshall Hall),—that is,
through the spinal cord. In this latter case the following
series of actions take place :—Is/, The influence of the
impression is conducted to the spinal cord by the afferent
or esodic filaments which enter the gray matter. 2d!, A
motor influence is transmitted outwards by one or more
efferent or exodic nerves. 2>d, This stimulates the con¬
tractility of the muscles to which the latter are distributed,
and motion is the result. Lastly, Contractility may be
called into action by psychical stimuli or mental acts,—such
as by the will and by certain emotions. Integrity of the
muscles alone is necessary for contractile movements; but
also of the spinal cord for diastaldc or reflex movements, and
of the brain proper for voluntary or emotional movements.
Thus, then, we may consider that the brain acting alone
furnishes the conditions necessary for intelligence; the
spinal cord acting alone furnishes the conditions essential
for the co-operative movements necessary to the vital func¬
tions ; and the brain and spinal cord acting together furnish
the conditions necessary for voluntary motion and sensation.
The following aphorisms will be found useful, in en¬
deavouring to reason correctly on the functions of the ner¬
vous system :—
1. The brain proper is that portion of the encephalon
situated above the corpm callosum.
2. The spinal cord is divided into a cranial and a verte¬
bral portion.
3. The gray matter evolves, and the white conducts, ner¬
vous power.
4. Contractility is the property peculiar to fibrous tex¬
ture, whereby it is capable of shortening its fibres. Mo¬
tion is of three kinds—contractile, dependent on muscle ;
diastaltic. dependent on muscle and spinal cord; volun¬
tary, dependent on muscle, spinal cord, and brain.
5. Sensibility is the property peculiar to nervous texture,
whereby it is capable of receiving impressions. Sensation
is the consciousness of receiving such impressions.
Senso-Motory Electrical Phenomena.—The manner in
which the nervous force is generated and conducted along
the nerves to distant parts of the body has given rise to
the idea that it resembles electricity. But that there is
any identity between them is disproved by the following
facts:—1. The firm application of a ligature to a nerve
stops the propagation of the nervous influence below the
point of application, but not of electricity. Indeed, the
nervous trunk is as good a conductor of electricity after as
it was before the application of the ligature. 2. If a small
piece of a nervous trunk be cut out, and replaced by an elec¬
tric conductor, electricity will still pass along the nerve ;
but no nervous force, excited by the strongest irritation
above the section will be propagated through the con¬
ductor to the parts below. 3. A nerve is not so good a con¬
ductor of electricity as some other tissues. Matteuci as¬
signs to muscles a conducting power four times greater than
that of nerve or cerebral matter; and from the results of
some experiments by Dr Todd, with the most delicate in¬
struments, he concludes that both nerve and muscle are
infinitely worse conductors than copper. In fact, their
power of conduction does not rank above that of water hold¬
ing in solution a small quantity of saline matter. 4. That
in all those animals which undoubtedly evolve electricity, a
peculiar apparatus, resembling a series of galvanic piles, is
superadded, proving that other conditions are required than
those ordinarily existing in the nervous system to produce
the electric force. In the present state of science, there¬
fore, facts are opposed to the idea of nervous power being
671
identical with electricity. It is very possible, however, Physiology
that future observations may prove one to be a modification ^ ,r
of the other. It should not be forgotten that it is only
lately that the relations have been discovered which exist
between electricity, galvanism, and magnetism ; and, as Mr
Faraday remarks, “If there be reason for supposing that mag¬
netism is a higher relation of force than electricity, so it may
well be imagined that the nervous power may be still more of
an exalted character, and yet within the reach of experiment.”
Dr Todd considers that the change which takes place in
nerve during its excitation is analogous to that which oc¬
curs in the particles of a piece of soft iron, in virtue of
which the iron acquires the properties of a magnet so long
as it is maintained in a certain relation to a galvanic cur¬
rent. The magnetic power being instantly communi¬
cated when the circuit is completed, and as rapidly removed
when it is interrupted, he thus considers that a state
of polarity of the particles of the nerve stimulated is in¬
duced. This polar state, he thinks, may be occasioned in
tissues, either muscular or nervous, with which the nerve
stimulated may be in organic connection ; just as the polar
state of the electrical apparatus is capable of being communi¬
cated to the piece of soft iron, which thereby acquires the
well-known magnetic properties during the continuance of
the excited polarity. This analogy may be admitted, al¬
though it has in noway been proved that what is here called
nervous polarity is in any way identical with electrical or
magnetic polarity. Some animals, as the glow-worm, fire-fly,
and others, generate light, which, like the evolution of elec¬
tricity, is connected with the presence of a peculiar organ
or apparatus. It cannot be maintained that light and ner¬
vous influence are the same; and we are therefore compelled
to conclude, that the generation both of electricity and light
in animals is a vital property special to peculiar organs,
which, like other vital properties, though connected with,
and influenced by, the nervous system, is altogether dis¬
tinct from it.
Several fishes, but more especially the genera Torpedo,
Gymnotus, and Malapterurus, give out electrical shocks
when touched or irritated, which gradually become weaker,
and cease altogether from frequent repetition, but return
after a certain period of repose. The agent producing
these has been proved to be electricity, by being commu¬
nicable to chains of individuals, by causing chemical de¬
composition, and a luminous spark on its sudden discharge.
It is isolated by non-conductors, deflects the magnetic
needle, and communicates magnetic properties to soft iron
when transmitted through a coil of wire surrounding it.
The discharge of the gymnotus has been estimated to be
equal to that of a battery of Leyden jars of 3500 square
inches, fully charged. We can have no doubt, therefore,
that an animal can generate electricity, and discharge it at
will, for the purpose of stupifying or killing other creatures,
or as a result of reflex nervous action, whilst its own body is
entirely free from the sensitive and motor consequences of
the shocks which it produces. The electrical organ in these
animals consist of piles of very numerous and closely-set thin
membranous plates, among which numerous fine nerves are
distributed. Between these plates are small cavities filled
with an albuminous fluid, so that the apparatus closely resem¬
bles a number of moist galvanic piles or batteries closely ag¬
gregated together. This structure, though differently ar¬
ranged in the various kinds of fish, is richly supplied by motor
and sensitive nerves and by blood-vessels. The nerves are
distributed on one surface only of the plates, whilst the
blood-vessels go to another, on which nucleated cells are
distributed. (Pacini.) There is also a special lobe of the
brain situated on the medulla oblongata, close to the origin
of the vagus nerve, which is called the electric lobe. It
contains large ganglionic corpuscles from which nerve-
tubes arise. When this lobe is destroyed, the power of ge-
672
Physiology nerating electricity is destroyed with it; whereas the whole
\JL_5 brain above it may be removed without
pairing the function of the batteries. This fact has led .ome
to suppose that the electricity is generated ^ the bram;
but there can be little doubt that it is formed in die bat¬
teries, which, however, differ in different animals. I hus in
the torpedo the action resembles that of a thermo-electric
pile _the nerve and vascular surfaces corresponding to the
bismuth and copper elements, whilst the nervous influence
corresponds with heat. When, therefore, a sioc 1
duced in the torpedo, either voluntarily or by reflex actio »
the nervous influence sent to one surface of the electrical
plate throws the other into an opposite electrical condi¬
tion, and a current is the consequence. In the gymnotus, on
the other hand, the apparatus has been compared to tie
hollow cylinder of porous clay, which, in a Bunsen
Grove’s galvanic arrangement, separates the negative fro
the positive elements. (Pacini.) . . , 
Although in other animals little electricity seems to e
generated, electric currents have been demonstrated in t e
muscles and in the nerves. Galvani first noticed the fact,
that when the exposed muscles of a frog s limb are broug t
into contact with the sciatic nerve, the muscles are slight y
contracted. Nobili found that when the circuit of the
nerve and muscles was closed by a galvanometer, a/Avia¬
tion of the needle took place to the extent of 10 or
30°, in consequence of a current which passed in the limb
from the toes upwards, and which could be incieaset y
inclosing in the circuit several frogs arranged as a battery.
Matteuci showed that these currents were independent of
the nervous texture ; and Du Bois-Reymond that the
tudinal section of a muscle, natural or artificial, is invariably
positive to the transverse one. According to him, the mus¬
cular substance during life, and in the intervals of contrac¬
tion, is in a state of electric tension, which is much dimin¬
ished, or disappears during its action. He succeeded in
showing this experimentally in the human subject. The
fore-fingers of a muscular individual being dipped in a saline
solution, together with the electrodes of the galvanometer,^
no deflexion of the needle occurs. If all the muscles of
one arm be now strongly and continuously contracted, a
current is indicated passing from the finger to the shoulder
in the contracted arm, and in the opposite direction in the
relaxed one. Other experiments showed,—\st, T hat the
current varies in different individual muscles, in some run¬
ning from the head to the foot, in others in the opposite di¬
rection ; 2d, That the electro-motor power of a muscle
is directly as its length and thickness ; and 3c?, That if two
muscles are opposed to one another in a circuit, the thicker
or the longer overcomes the other. Hence the current in
one entire organism represents the superior force of the
currents of the stronger muscles. As regards nerve,
Matteuci failed in detecting any electrical current in it;
but Du Bois-Reymond has done so by employing a very
delicate galvanometer. He has determined that the ner¬
vous electric current has the same relation to the longitu¬
dinal and transverse sections as is observed in muscle, and
that in this respect all the nerves are alike. It would also
appear from his observations, that when a nerve is com¬
pletely excited or tetanized by electricity, its usual electro¬
motor power is diminished, or in abeyance, and that a
similar loss accompanies intense functional excitement
from ordinary agents. No difference as to electrical rela¬
tions exist between motor and sensory nerves, and in both
kinds innervation advances in either direction with equal
facility. The muscles, when they are caused to contract
in consequence of electricity sent along a nerve, do so only
at the opening and closing of the circuit. From these
researches it would appear, that in an organized being elec¬
trical currents are induced by arrangements of its fluids,
textures, and organs, although the physiological importance
PHYSIOLOGY.
of these remains to be discovered. It must be clear, how- Physiology
ever, that such currents are intimately connected with the
normal functions of the parts which exhibit them, a circum¬
stance which indicates the advantage of applied electricity
in various paralytic and spasmodic diseases. This subject
is now being investigated on scientific rather than on em¬
pirical grounds, especially by Remak.
Special Functions of the Nervous System.
On proceeding to determine more closely what are the spe¬
cial functions of the individual parts of the nervous system,
View of the Nervous System in Man.
A, A, A. Cerebral Lobes—B. Cerebellum-C. Corpus Striatuin—D. Optic Tha-
lamus—E. Corpora Quadrigemiua—JF. PonsVaroln—G. Medulla Oblongata
—H,H. Spinal Cord. ^
Left Side.— The Cerebro-Spinal System of Nerves.—T. Olfactory or first pair
of Nerves—II. Optic, or second pair of Nerves—III. Motor Nerves of Lye-
ball, or third pair of Nerves—IV. Pathetic, or fourth pair of Xerves. v.
'I rifacial, or fifth pair of Nerves—VI. Abducent, or sixth pair of Nerves
VII. Facial and Auditory, or seventh pair of Nerves—VlII. (!•) yxlosso-
pharyngeal Nerve—VIII. (2.) Pnenmo-gastric Nerve, or Vagus—VIII.
Spinal Accessory Nerve—IX. Hypoglossal, or ninth pair of Nerves—rrora
a to/. Branches of the Vagus: o. Superior Laryngeal Nerve; o. Interior
Laryngeal Nerve; c. Cardiac and Pulmonary branches of the Vagus ; a.
(Esophageal branches of the Vagus ; e. Gastric branches of the Vagus; /•
Termination of the Vagus on the right side in the Solar Ganglion.
Right Side.— The Sympathetic or Ganglionic System of Nerves.—1. Ophthalmic
Ganglion—2. Submaxillary Ganglion—3. Spheno-palatine Ganglion—d. Ca¬
vernous Plexus—5. Otic Ganglion—6, 6. Carotid Plexus, surrounding the
carotid artery—7. Super-cervical Ganglion—8. Middle Cervical Ganglion
—9. Inferior Cervical Ganglion—10. Cardiac and Pulmonary Plexuses
11,11. Splanchic Nerves—12. Solar Ganglion—13. Hepatic Plexus—14. Gas¬
tric Plexus—15. Splenic Plexus—1G. Super-mesenteric Plexus—17. Renal
Plexus—18. Aortic Plexus—19. Inferior Mesenteric Plexus—20. Hypogastric
Plexus—21. Inferior Hypogastric Plexus—22. Ovarian Plexus—23. Uterine
Plexus—24. Vesical Plexus—25. Ganglion Impar.
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology we should never forget that the various ways in which they material obiects- 15th How lfi/A T ! i t i • '
have been investigated have led to opposing results, and that disposition ; Ylth the’ faculty of rYm^ ' ^1°* t lC Poetlcal Physiology
such is the excessive difficulty of the inquiry, that we should justice and en alitv 1^ Conscientiousness or of
be especially on our guard against specious hypotheses and if character or puJpose fgM °;*1firmness
sit's—l»rxr,r,p'-;"i£ v%M^-“;£!aJs=SSS{
exists in man; whilst erroneous interpretations as to tlie San’ce 1c liYrl Weifht’ density’
^ “d “Sir rhr c— - - readily formed, coburs ; 24^ ’ iPL
S f ll • . 'Y* f»y'J ^ I — _ - f* .*1 -l# 1
...    ewvy x c;u.uii y lUllliCU
Again, in making experiments on animals, it is often im¬
possible to ascertain how far the shock of the operation, the
ow of blood, or the destruction of other parts may vitiate
the results. Lastly, an observation of the effects of disease
often leaves us in doubt how far the organic mischief ex¬
tends, and what phenomena may be rightly attributed to it,
and what to the congestion of the blood-vessels which ac¬
company it. I his last, however, is by far the most import¬
ant means of research open to us; and if to the result of
pathological observation, a similar one is obtained from well-
performed experiments, our views derived from either will
be confirmed. If to this, anatomy reveals such connections
as will warrant and bear out such conclusions, we may con¬
sider that every proof is given which conviction requires.
It should be remembered, therefore, that such is the fal-
acy inherent in each individual method of research that
little dependence can be placed upon it, and that at least
theory ^ t0 giVe ProbabiIity t0 any given
Functions of the Cerebral Lobes.—The cerebral lobes
(diagram, A, A, A), as has been previously stated, are
undoubtedly concerned in the evolution and manifestation
ot intellect, fliis result is supported by every known
mode of investigation, which also indicates that the former
depends on the cortical, and the latter on the conducting or
tubular portion. Further than this we are not warranted in
going for the facts which establish these great conclusions
entirely negative all those theories which have been advanced
having for their object a localization of the different facul¬
ties into which the mind has been arbitrarily divided. When
indeed, we endeavour to analyse these, and separate the’
reasoning powers from instinctive actions, the difficulty of
the inquiry seems at first to be overwhelming. To analyse
tie intricate combinations of our own minds is a difficult
task; but how much more laborious is it to study the
variations in the minds of others, and to investigate the
habits of the countless tribes of animals with the view of
distinguishing which depend on reason, and which on blind
instinct. The attempts of metaphysicians in this direction
are not satisfactory. According to them, however, the
purely mental faculties are,—Consciousness, Perception,
Attention, Conception, Abstraction, Association of Ideas’
Memory, Imagination, and Judgment or Reasoning. To
these may be added the Affections, Desires, Self-love, and
the Moral Faculty. (Stewart.)
Gall and Spurzheim have divided mind into thirty-three
acuities, to which Mr Combe added two more, making
thirty-five in all. These are—1^, Amativeness-, 2d,Philo-
progen i tiveness, or love of offspring; Sri, Concentrativeness,
°j “)e. Power of continuing impressions and ideas; 4th,
Adhesiveness, or the desire to attach ourselves to persons or
objects; 5th, Combativeness, or the inclination to fight and
be embroiled in contentions ; 6th, Destructiveness, or the de¬
sire of destroying life; 7th. Constructiveness, or a disposi¬
tion to applyoneself totheraechanical arts; 8^, Covetousness,
oi t it. c tsii e to covet, to amass, or acquire; 6th, Secretiveness,
to conceal; 10th, Self-Esteem, or self-love; 11 th. Love of
■Approbation, or the pleasure we derive from the commen¬
dations we receive from others; \2th. Cautiousness-, \Zth,
benevolence, or meekness and gentleness of disposition;
\.4th, Veneration, by which we worship the Deity and
VOL. XVII. 1
memory; 25th Order, or a love of methodical arrange¬
ment ; 26th, Lime, or the faculty which enters into specu¬
lations on duration; 2*Uh, Number, or the power of calcu¬
lation ; 26th, lune, or the perception of musical tone ; 26th
Language, the faculty by which we learn artificial signs;
56th, Comparison, by which we recognise differences, ana¬
logies, similitudes, &c.; 31^, Causality, that power which
directs our attention to the causes of things; 62d, Wit, the
faculty of jesting, raillery, mocking, &c.; 5M, Imitation,
the power of imitating sounds, gestures, manners, &c. These
are the several faculties of mind laid down by Drs Gall and
opurzheim; but to this catalogue Mr Combe has added
two others, 2>4th, Wonder, or that which relates to the mar¬
vellous, supernatural, &c.; and Noth, Eventuality, or that
winch takes cognisance of changes, events, and active phe¬
nomena. r
J he objections to this division of the mental faculties are,
m, Its complexity; and, according to the phrenological
system, one faculty is considerably influenced by others; so
that compound characters may be easily manufactured at
will, and thus numerous sources of fallacy thrown open. 2d,
It is ledundant in some faculties, and deficient in others.
It is redundant, for instance, in having two organs for Form
a,nd Size, for Combativeness and Destructiveness, for Causa¬
lity and Concentrativeness. Each of these two, if not iden¬
tical, are, at all events, closely allied. It is deficient in
laving no such faculties as Memory, Reasoning, and Judg¬
ment, which every man is conscious he possesses. But it
is said every organ has a power of remembering, reasoning,
and judging; so that there are other faculties which govern
or attend upon all the thirty-five organs. There are also
obvious deficiencies in the propensities or instincts; for
mankind not only love, steal, fight, kill, secrete, and build,
but run, swim, walk, talk, sing, learn, and so on, which have
no place in the phrenological system. Perhaps there is no
instinct so strong in man and animals as that of self-preser¬
vation, and yet this has no organ ascribed to it by the phre¬
nologists. As a philosophical and metaphysical system of
the mental faculties, therefore, the classifications of Stewart
and Brown seem to us greatly superior, especially in all the
higher properties of the intellect; although, so for as the
instincts and passions are concerned, they are, perhaps, in¬
ferior.
If our knowledge of what the faculties of the mind really
are, and how they should be divided, is so imperfect, it may
appear unnecessary to attempt to determine in what part of
the brain each is situated. As might be expected, all such
efforts have failed. I hat the brain furnishes the condi¬
tions necessary for the evolution and manifestation of mind,
we have seen is established; and that the gray matter ori¬
ginates, whilst the white matter conducts, the influences
geneiated, we have also shown to be highly probable. But
we have no facts which point out that Memory, Conscious¬
ness, Judgment, Reasoning, or similar faculties belong to one
part of the cerebral convolutions more than to another.
Gall and. his followers have localized all the thirty-five
faculties into which they have divided the mind. He ob¬
served that certain individuals who displayed mental powers,
moral feelings, or particular propensities, had a fulness or
prominence in a certain part of the anterior, middle, or
posterior third of the cranium. By paying attention to the
4 Q
674
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology principal characteristics of remarkable men, and the living
habits of animals, he found that this fulness or prominence
coincided in a number of cases ; and he concluded from this
that the function of brain which existed below tbe promi¬
nence was the organ giving rise to the characteristic faculty.
He then sought to confirm his theory by anatomy, physi¬
ology, and pathology ; and he and his disciples have accumu¬
lated an immense number of these coincidences, which they
believe sufficient to establish the phrenological theory.
But, proceeding on the principles which the phrenologists
themselves have laid down, it is easy to show that the ex¬
ceptions are as numerous as the coincidences; whilst the
other modes of inquiry to which we have alluded,—name y,
anatomy, the results of experiments on living animals, and
the observations of the symptoms of disease as compared
with the appearances presented after death, not only give
no support, but are directly opposed to the views of Gall.
Thus, some remarkable skulls in the museum of the umvei-
sity of Edinburgh are, on the principles of the phrenologists
themselves, entirely opposed to their doctrines. Of these,
among many, we would point to the skulls ofBuike, repe,
and Haggart,—the two former remarkable murderers, with
Destructiveness small; and the latter a most dexterous tine ,
with Acquisitiveness small. Anatomy proves that, win e
the lower vertebrate animals possess the anterior and middle
lobes of the brain well developed, which are said to be the
seat of the intellectual faculties and moral sentiments, they
are deficient in those parts where Love of Offspring, Adhe¬
siveness, Destructiveness, and Combativeness are found,
facts wholly incompatible with the theory of Gall. In the
same manner, the great majority of facts derived fiom phy¬
siological and pathological research give no support to phre¬
nology. Although, therefore, this doctrine is unquestionably
founded upon a large number of data, it cannot lay claim to a
correct localization of the mental faculties in any way supe¬
rior to other systems, which, like it, have been advanced by
ingenious men, excited attention for a season, and ultimately
abandoned as inconsistent witb the present state of our
knowledge. The names of Gall, Spurzheim, and Combe,
notwithstanding, ought ever to be registered among those
whose labours have greatly contributed to advance our
knowledge of the physiology of the brain.
Function of the Cerebellum, Corpora Striata, Optic
Thalami, and Corpora Quadrigemina.—These different
parts of the encephalon contain masses of ganglionic mat¬
ter differently arranged, connected with the spinal cord
below and the cerebrum above. We have as yet no
means of determining with certainty the functions of each
ganglion, although it is probable that the cerebellum (dia¬
gram, B) is connected with the power of voluntary com¬
bined movements, and the corpora quadrigemina
E) with the sense of sight, but not exclusively so ; for the
corpus striatum (diagram, C) is also connected with the one,
and the optic thalamus (diagram, D) with the other. The
whole, perhaps, may be regarded as uniting together the
diastaltic function in connection with the head and face;
and hence, as being an extension in another form of the
gray matter of the spinal cord into the encephalon.
Function of the Pons Varolii and Medulla Oblon¬
gata (Diagram, F, G).—These portions of the encephalon
possess the same function as the spinal cord, with the ad¬
dition of being more essential to life, on account of their
being the centres (especially the latter) which furnish the
necessary power for maintaining the co-ordinate movements
of respiration and deglutition. It is by arresting respira¬
tion, and paralysing the functions of the important organs
to which the vagi nerves are distributed, that sudden injury
to the medulla oblongata proves so rapidly fatal.
Function of the Spinal Cord (Diagram, H, H).—
This nervous centre receives and gives off the different
nerves which go to all parts of the body, and is the organ
necessary for combined motions, and conducting the sen- Physiology
sitive influences essential to sensation. These influences
are now known, principally from the experimental re¬
searches of Brown-Sequard, to be conducted through the
gray matter by means of nerve-tubes connected with the
ganglionic cells. If the influences reach the cerebral con-
volutions, and excite consciousness, sensation is the result.
If the influences originating in these convolutions, by an
act of volition, pass outwards to a special series of muscles,
voluntary motion is produced. But numerous combined
muscular actions may go on independent of volition or sen¬
sation, and even when the brain is removed. These de¬
pend on influences originating in physical irritations ap¬
plied to an incident nerve, which are conducted through
the spinal cord, and from it by excident nerves to the
muscles, the contractility of which is thereby excited.
The character of these movements gave rise to the idea
that they vrere connected with sensation, and indicated
pain. Thus, decapitated animals may be seen to struggle
exactly as they would do were the brain entire. 1 hey en¬
deavour to avoid the particular injury, push the irritating
instrument away with their paws, and writhe as it in agony ;
so that it is exceedingly difficult for a spectator to convince
himself that they are not suffering, and that such motions
are not connected with sensation. But we have previously
seen, and the slightest analysis of our own sensations and
mental operations will soon convince us, that sensation is
the consciousness of an impression. If then the same sen¬
sitive and motor phenomena are produced independent of
brain as when it is present, we must either believe that
consciousness resides in the spinal marrow, and that theie-
fore they are connected with sensation, or that it lesides^
in the brain, in which case they must be independent of
sensation. The former was the notion of Whytt, Haller,
Le Gallois, Prochaska, and others, who connected these
spinal movements with a so-called sensorium commune. It
was Dr Marshall Hall who first clearly separated these func¬
tions from cerebral or mental acts, and placed them alto¬
gether in the spinal cord. He pointed out that they weie
independent of mind, and therefore not connected with
sensation. He classified them by themselves, under the
name of reflex, excito-motory, or diastaltic actions ; de¬
scribed the laws by which they are governed, and their
universal application to the pathology and diagnosis of dis¬
ease. We have previously seen that all such actions re¬
quire a centre with incident and excident nerves communi¬
cating with it, although the exact relation of these, as
explanatory of individual diastaltic movements, has not yet
been determined.
As examples of diastaltic or purely spinal motions, may
be enumerated,—1^, Those constantly going on in the
eyelids when any object approaches them, in which case
the incident nerve is the palpebral branch of the filth, ant
the excident the orbicular branch of the seventh pan of
nerves. 2<i, The closure of the larynx in every act of
deglutition, and in every effort to vomit, and as occuis on
the contact of a drop of water or a crumb of bread, &c.,
when the incident nerve is the superior and the excident
the inferior laryngeal. 3c/, The various movements asso¬
ciated in the act of respiration, in which the incident neives
are the sensitive branches of the fifth pair, of the pneumo-
gastric and spinal nerves, while the excident are the spinal
accessory and motor portions of the intercostal, diaphrag¬
matic, and lower spinal. A.th, The different actions asso¬
ciated in the act of swallowing, including those that occur
in the pharynx, oesophagus, and the cardiac orifice of the
stomach. The incident nerves are united with the exci¬
dent in the pharyngeal, oesophageal, and cardiac branches
of the pneumo-gastric. oth. Numerous actions connected
with the outlets of the body, as in defcecation and expul¬
sion from the urinary and generative organs, in which the
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology incident and excident nerves are united in the branches of
the spinal nerves. 6M, The movements of the foetus in
utero. 1th, Numerous complex actions, acquired at one
period, and performed afterwards automatically, without
exercise of mind, such as walking, playing certain pieces
of music on various instruments, &c. Sth, Instinctive ac¬
tions of various animals, as the flying of migratory birds,
building their nests, construction of the honey-comb, &c.
9th, All the spasmodic and convulsive actions of the body,
including vomiting, choking from the presence of a foreign
body in the larynx or pharynx, nervous twitching of the
limbs, convulsions of parts of the whole body in chorea,
hysteria, epilepsy, and rigid spasms of tetanus, &c. &c. In
these four last kinds of actions, the sensitive nerves of
various parts of the body are the incident, and the motor
the excident nerves.
These diastaltic actions, though spinal and ’independent
of mind, may, to a certain extent, be controlled by the
will. Thus the sudden contact of hot or cold bodies to
the skin, the prick of a pin, &c., if unexpected, will cause
starting; but if a resolution be formed not to do so, this
effect may be prevented. This influence is exercised over
different muscles in different degrees; and it varies in
persons from constitutional and unknown causes. Other
spinal actions apparently require the co-operation of the
mind, such as coughing, sneezing, laughing, sobbing, yawn¬
ing, and hiccough. In these cases it frequently happens
that the most determined effort of the will fails to control
them ; whilst arresting or withdrawing the attention checks
them at once. Hence we have one class of motions purely
voluntary, and another partly voluntary and partly spinal,
such as coughing, laughing, sneezing, &c., which it is diffi¬
cult to conceive being produced without a certain mental
effort. Then we have a class of motions altogether invo¬
luntary, wholly spinal, which may be carried on for a cer¬
tain time in a decapitated animal.
Functions of the Cerebro-Spinal Nerves.—There are
generally enumerated, after Willis, nine cerebral pairs and
thirty-one spinal pairs of nerves. (See left side of dia¬
gram.) All the so-called cerebral nerves, with the ex¬
ception of the first pair, which is in truth a ganglion, may
be regarded as belonging to the cranial portion of the spinal
cord. The first pair of nerves, called the olfactory, serve
to receive and convey the influences excited by odours on
the Schneiderean membrane of the nose, to which it is dis¬
tributed, direct to the brain, to produce the sensation of
smell. The second pair, or optic nerves, receive and convey
to the brain the influences excited by light, so as to produce
the sensation of sight. The third pair of nerves, or the mo¬
tor nerves of the eyeball, are purely motor, and regulate all
the movements of the eyeball, except those which depend
on the external rectus and superior oblique muscles. The
fourth pair of nerves, or pathetic, also called trochlear, are
purely motor, and govern the movements of the troch-
learis, or oblique muscle of the eye. The fifth pair of
nerves, called trifacial or trigeminal, divide into three
branches,—two of which are purely sensitive, and the third
is senso-motory. The sensitive branches terminate in the
face, and communicate sensibility to the skin, various organs
of the head, and to the external parts of the organs of
special sense. It is also the great exciter nerve of these
parts. Its communications also with the ganglia of the
sympathetic system render its integrity of the greatest im¬
portance to various excito-motory, excito-sensory, and
excito-nutrient actions of the head and face. The non-
ganglionic branch distributed to the muscles of the jaws is
motor, and governs the movements of mastication. The
sixth pair of nerves, called abducent, are motor, and govern
the motions of the external rectus muscle of the eyeball.
I he seventh pair of nerves are composed of two parts, which
are really separate nerves. The hard portion, or facial nerve,
675
is motor, and governs the movements of all the muscles of Physiology
the face. The soft portion, or auditory nerve, transmits the
influences of sound through the internal ear to the brain,
to produce the sensation of hearing. The eighth pair of
nerves are divided into three branches,—]^, The glosso¬
pharyngeal, distributed to the root of the tongue and
pharynx, is a nerve of sensibility, administering to taste
and touch in the former situation, while it is the great
exciter in the act of deglutition in the latter. The se¬
cond bianch is the par vagum, or pneumo-gastric nerve,
and is distributed to numerous important parts, its branches
having different functions. As a whole, it is a motor and
sensitive nerve, and contains incident and excident fila¬
ments. I he pharyngeal and inferior laryngeal branches
are wholly motor; its superior laryngeal branch is the sen¬
sitive nerve of the larynx, but is mixed with a few motor
filaments, which supply the crico-thyroid muscle; the car¬
diac, pulmonary, oesophageal, and gastric branches are sen¬
so-motory. It also forms most important connections with
the sympathetic system of nerves; and, like the fifth, is in¬
strumental to numerous excito-motory, excito-secretory,
and excito-nutrient functions of the neck, chest, and abdo¬
men. The third branch of the eighth pair, or spinal acces-
sory, is a motor nerve, the external division supplying the
external muscles of respiration ; the sterno-mastoid and tra¬
pezius, and the internal division, adding motor filaments to
the vagus. The ninth pair of nerves, or hypo-glossal, is the
motor nerve of the tongue. There are thirty-one pairs of
spinal nerves, all of which are senso-motory,—the posterior
ganglionic root being sensory, and the anterior motor.
These, united, form a corresponding nerve, containing sen¬
sitive and motor filaments necessary for sensation and com¬
bined motions, including incident and excident filaments in
connection with distinct portions or arcs of the spinal cord
as centres of diastaltic movements.
kunctions of the Sympathetic Nerves.—This system of
nerves has also been called ganglionic, organic, and tri-
splanchnic. It consists essentially of a number of ganglia
containing numerous nerve-cells, communicating by one
series of connecting nerve-tubes with each other, and by
another series with the cerebro-spinal nerves. (See right
side of diagram, p. 672.) The ganglia are arranged, accord¬
ing to their situation, into cephalic, cervical, thoracic, and
abdominal; while the connecting filaments forming plexuses
have received numerous names in different parts, such as
carotid, cardiac, diaphragmatic, supra-renal, hepatic, splenic,
superior and inferior mesenteric, &c. &c. The connection
between the cerebro-spinal nerves and those of the sympa¬
thetic system is indirect through ganglia, which break the
conducting power of the nerves or modify it,—probably
both. Under ordinary circumstances, no act of volition or
of the mind can induce movements in parts supplied by the
sympathetic ; but under peculiar circumstances, or under
the influence of unusual stimuli, movements are induced.
Thus the emotions and desires, shame or fear, influence the
movements of the heart and the contractile power of the
capillaries, which an effort of volition cannot do. Such re¬
sults are only explicable by the connection of the sympa¬
thetic system with nerves coming direct from the brain.
Direct irritation of the sympathetic ganglia will also cause
movements in the non-voluntary muscular parts receiving
filaments from them. In the same way, for the most part,,
the internal organs and surfaces supplied by these nerves
are not endowed with ordinary sensibility, and the mind
is unconscious of their action ; but occasionally very severe
pain is produced from their being the seat of disease, as in
certain agonizing pains of the heart {anginapectoris), in the
intestines (colic), in the stomach, liver, kidneys, &c. &c-
Thus, although in health the sympathetic system so diffuses
the influences conducted that they are not obedient to or
excite mental acts, there is abundant proof that the cerebro-
676
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology spinal filaments passing through the ganglia aie constantly
^ operating, although insensibly, in subjection to the cerebro¬
spinal centres. The ganglia, however, not only diffuse the
influence of impressions coming from and sent to the cere¬
bral and spinal centres, but they are nervous centres them¬
selves, and especially centres of numerous reflex acts m
non-voluntary muscles.
In addition to this excito-motory function of the sympa¬
thetic system, there is another of great importance, recent y
denominated by Dr Campbell of the United States excito-
secretory. We have previously seen, however, that secie-
tion in glands is only a form of nutrition ; and the influence
of this system would appear not only to be exerted oil
glands, but on blood-vessels and nutrition generally. U is
therefore also excito-nutrient, and carried on wholly inde¬
pendent of the cerebro-spinal system. Thus it has been
shown by Sir B. Brodie that division of the crural and sci¬
atic nerves neither retarded nor impaired wounds and frac¬
tures of the inferior extremities; while numerous modem
experiments have proved that injury to the large sympa
thetic ganglia occasion the most destructive effects to the
nutrition of the parts which receive nerves from them.
The recent experiments of Brown-Sequard and Harley
on the supra-renal capsules, have shown that it is difficult
to preserve animals if the semilunar or solar ganglion be
much injured in the operation ; but if this be avoided, ani¬
mals can live without the supra-renal capsules for a length
of time. Again, as illustrative of the general influence of
the sympathetic system over nutrition, is the fact that cer¬
tain foetuses have been born with well-developed textmes,
without a brain or spinal cord, in the same manner that
many of the lower animals are destitute of these oigans.
As local examples of this excito-secretory and excito-
nutrient function of the sympathetic system of nerves, may
be cited, — 1st, The effusion of tears from the lacrymal
gland on the application of an irritant. In this case the
incident nerve is the palpebral branch of the fifth, and the
excident or secretory the lacrymal branches from the carotid
plexus. 2d, The secretion of saliva on irritation of the
gums, or exciting the mouth by food and mastication. Here
the incident nerves are the buccal branches of the fifth, and
the excident or secretory the parotid branches derived from
the carotid plexus. 3rf, Dentition in infants and children
give numerous examples of excito-secretory and excito-
nutrient actions. Thus, from tender gums, and irritation
of the dental branches of the fifth, the eye may become
lacrymose and congested ; the Schneiderean membrane
congested, and its secretion increased; while diarrhoea is
one of the most common symptoms. In these cases the
excident nerves are derived from the ciliary and Meckel s
ganglia, distributed to the conjunctiva and Schneiderean
membranes, and through the splanchnic, with the intestines.
Ath, The process of lactation exhibits the remarkable in¬
fluence of excitation applied to the sensitive surface of the
nipple. This, when grasped and suction made upon it by
the infant, not only occasions increased flow of milk, but
causes that peculiar feeling of the rush which mothers de¬
scribe, and which is apparently owing to congestion of the
blood-vessels. Keeping up the flow of milk by constant
milking long after it is required for suckling, as is constantly
done for domestic purposes among our cattle, is an excel¬
lent example of the power of exciting such secretions
locally. 5th, The secretion of starch from the liver, and
its ready transformation into sugar, is influenced by irrita¬
tions of branches of the eighth pair in the lungs, and by
direct injury of the pneumo-gastric nerves, through the
sympathetic branches of the cceliac and solar plexuses going
to the liver. 6th, The results of section or destruction of
the cervical ganglia by Petit, Dupuy, Bernard, and others,
and the effects of galvanism applied to the cut extremities
of the ganglionic trunks by Brown-Sequard, exhibit how
the former injuries cause redness and increased heat in the Physiology
neighbouring parts, while the latter cause paleness and v'—■v—-'
coldness. This is accomplished in the last experiment by pro¬
ducing contraction or spasm, and in the first by occasioning
enlargement and paralysis of the extreme vessels, and thus
influencing nutrition. Further examples may be sought in
the influence of excitants on all secretions—in the growth
of the foetus in utero, the phenomena resulting from shock
after injuries, and in numerous diseases, especially of fever,
inflammation, cholera, cutaneous eruptions, &c. &c.
It follows that the great functions of the sympathetic
system of nerves are,—D*, Excito-motory, thereby regu¬
lating the contractions of the non-voluntary muscular fibres ;
2d, Excito-secretory, whereby the various secretions are
governed ; 3d, Excito-nutrient, operating more especially on
the blood-vessels, and thereby regulating the circulation in
the capillaries.
It is impossible to review our knowledge of the physio¬
logy of the nervous system without recognising three great
epochs or eras in discovery, which are inseparably con¬
nected with the names of three distinguished men. The
first of these epochs is characterized by the establishment
of contractility and sensibility as inherent properties of the
muscular and nervous tissues. Such was the great work of
Haller. The second is indicated by the indication of mo¬
tor and sensitive columns in the spinal cord, and by the
existence of nerves of sensation, of nerves of motion, and
of mixed nerves in connection with these columns. Such
was the doctrine establishedby Charles Bell. Thethirdepoch
is marked by the separation of numerous combined actions,
from sensation, volition, and contractile movements; the
demonstration that the spinal cord was their centre, and the
fact that it was endowed with a reflex function acting
through a series of incident and excident nerves, which
were named. Such were the views introduced and suc¬
cessfully maintained by Marshall Hall. Each of these^
great doctrines has given rise to an astonishing amount of
discussion, mingled with no small degree of aciimony.
The controversy between Haller and Whytt, on the doc¬
trine of inherent irritability and sensibility may still be
considered as one of the most important and famous to be
found in the whole history of medicine. Sir Charles Bell’s
life was embittered by the necessity of combating the
claims of Dr Walker, who first conceived the idea of dis¬
tinct function in the anterior and posterior columns of the
spinal cord, and of Magendie, who maintained he had first
demonstrated it experimentally. Lastly, Dr Marshall Hall
has been accused, first, of having merely given to the sy1*1"
pathetic actions of Whytt a new name; and, secondly, of
having borrowed all his ideas from Unzer and Prochaska.
It would occupy far too much space to enter into the his¬
tory of these discussions. The two former have ceased to
excite attention ; while the merits of Marshall Flail, with
regard to the important theory of reflex nervous actions,
is now universally acknowledged.
The experiments illustrative of reflex action are in their
nature the same as those performed by Le Gallois and Sir
Gilbert Blane, and the same results were derived from
them as were observed by Flourens, Rolando, Hertwig,
and by many others, who found that after removing the brain
from animals, they could walk or fly. It is the inference
derived from these experiments which we regard as im¬
portant, and the demonstration that such actions are inde¬
pendent of sensation and volition, and strictly connected
with integrity of the spinal cord. Now, this was not clearly
stated by Unzer or Prochaska, for whom priority in this
matter has been claimed. The latter physiologist, after
enumerating the different seats given to the common sen¬
sory by his predecessors, all of whom understood by it the
seat of sensation, distinctly says,—“ The sensorium com-
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology mune, properly so called, seems not improbably to extend
/ through the medulla oblongata, the crura of the cerebrum
and cerebellum, also part of the thalami optici, and the
whole of the medulla spinalis ; in a word, it is co-exten-
sive with the origin of the nerves.” It is true, he distinctly
says, that reflexions of sensorial impressions may take place
either with consciousness or without consciousness, but
then he proceeds to confound together convulsions in apo¬
plectics, and other motions truly spinal, with the move¬
ments of the heart, stomach, and intestines. Unzer taught
that the ganglia reflected motions without going to the
sensorium commune, and that they were special sensoria.
A careful analysis of the writings of Unzer and Prochaska
should be made conjointly with a critical study of the works
of Haller, and then we think it will be evident that great
confusion has been thrown over the whole subject by the
use of the term sensorium commune, which, since the davs
.°f Willis, has been considered as the seat of sensation. It
is easy now, when the subject has been unravelled, and the
nature of sensation understood—at all events in its rela¬
tion to consciousness—to maintain that Prochaska meant
something different by sensorium commune from what Hal¬
ler did. We nowhere see any evidence of this ; and the
pi oof that so essential a point was not made clear in con¬
nection with reflex function is, that all his contempora¬
ries, as well as physiologists since his day, never under¬
stood it in this sense until Marshall Hall wrote.
SPECIAL SENSES.
The nature of sensation has already been dwelt upon ;
and it has been shown to depend essentially on the exist¬
ence of mind, or the consciousness of impressions made on
the sensitive nerves. The impressions which result from
the stimuli of odours, sapid bodies, contact of hard or irri¬
tating substances, of light and of sound, are different. For
the reception of these also, nerves with peculiar endowments
aie piovided; and to these are added a special structure
or organ adapted for the purposes of smell, taste, touch,
vision, and hearing. Much discussion has taken place as
to whether a sixth sense exists, viz., a muscular sense, or a
sense of weight. Two masses of matter apparently similar
may be undetectable by sight or touch, but when balanced
in the hand are at once recognised by their difference in
weight. Whether this sensation is dependent on the
muscles or joints is doubtful; but that it is distinctive and
peculiar, cannot be questioned.
Smell. The acuteness of scent varies in different ani¬
mals, and bears a certain relation to the size of the nostrils
and turbinated bones, being greater where these are large
and extended. Odours which depend on substances sus¬
pended in the air, when in an extremely fine state of divi¬
sion, thereby obtain more ready access to the membrane on
which the olfactory nerve is distributed. This in animals
that live in air is accomplished by the act of inspiration,
flence suspension of respiration prevents the perception of
0^0ur*; whilst repeated quick inspirations, as in the act
ot sniffing, renders it more intense and prolonged. It is
necessary that the mucous surface covering the expansion
ot the olfactory nerves should be moderately moist; for if
it be too dry on the one hand, or too moist on the other,
the sense is impaired or lost. The situation of the sensitive
suiface high up in the nostrils secures it from the direct
contact of air, so as to prevent rapid evaporation and dry¬
ness; while the convolutions of the turbinated bones, over
which the currents of air pass before reaching the seat of
special sense, communicate heat to them, and thus prevent
the action of cold. The sense of smell may be exalted,
perverted, or lost. It is apparently increased by education,
ot which the case of James Mitchell is an interesting
example. This boy was born blind and deaf, and chiefly
677
depended on smell for keeping up a connection with the ex- Physiology
ternal world. He employed it on all occasions, like a domes- ^^3
tic dog, in distinguishing persons and things. In some cases
smell is exceedingly acute for particular substances, so as
to be intolerable and distracting to those who suffer from
it. Certain flowers or particular odours have in this wav
caused fainting or other bodily disorder. In other cases
the smell is perverted or diminished, and occasionally is
lost, as when the Schneiderean membrane is inflamed or
very rarely from congenital absence of the olfactory nerve.
Taste.— This sense is dependent on the fifth and glosso¬
pharyngeal nerves,—the former distributed to the two an-
teiioi thiids, and the latter to the posterior third of the
tongue. This organ is covered over with minute pro¬
minences, which, when magnified, present four principal
forms, viz.,—1^, Simple papillae; 2d, Conical or filiform
papillae; 3^, Fungiform papillae; and 4^, Circumvallate or
calciform papillae. It is supposed that the two former are
more especially concerned in the sense of touch, with which
the tongue is also highly endowed ; whilst the two latter, but
particularly the last, constitute more especially the appa-
latus of taste.. Sapid bodies pressed against these papillae
give rise to impressions which, when transmitted to the
brain, occasion the peculiar sensation. The sense is
moie acute in some persons than in others; may be ren¬
dered more so by education, as is remarkably well ob-
seived in wine tasters ; and is diminished or lost in febrile or
othei disorders which alter the condition of the mucous sur¬
face of the tongue and mouth.
Touch.—\ his sense is dependent on the nerves of com¬
mon sensibility distributed to all parts of the surface. But
here also we observe that a distinct structure is necessary
for the manifestation of the peculiar property. This con¬
sists in the papillae of the true skin, which are variously
modified in different parts of the body, in proportion to the
acuteness of the sense. The experiments of Weber and
Valentin have shown that the extremity of the third finger
and the point of the tongue are the parts most sensitive,"as
m these places the difference of half a line between the
points of a pair of compasses could be distinguished. Next
m sensitiveness to these is the mucous surface of the lips,
whilst the parts in which touch is least acute are the
neck, the middle of the back, and the middle of the arm and
thigh. In the papillae of the fingers and a few other places
minute indurated bodies of condensed fibrous tissue have
been recently discovered, called the Touch Bodies of Wag-
nei, which have been supposed capable of rendering this
sense more acute. They are in immediate relatiorf to a
net ye; and the well-known effects of pressing such nerve
against a hard body, as in the case of a corn, may well be
supposed capable of exalting the sensibility.
Sight. Ibis sense is dependent on the optic nerve, and
a very complex apparatus, consisting, in man,—1^, Of ex-
teinal protective parts; 2d, Of a set of muscles destined to
move the organ of vision in various directions; 2>d, Of the
expansion of the nerves, and the addition of a ganglionic
structure, whereby the rays of light are received, and the
influence of the impressions they excite conveyed to the
brain; and 4M, Of an optical apparatus, consisting of
tiansparent media, which refract the rays of light upon the
retina. The eyeball itself consists of an external fibrous
coaty a middle or vascular coat, an internal or nervous coat,
and of contents composed of refractive media. (For a
minute description of these anatomical parts, see the article
Anatomy.) All that need be referred to here is the u=es 
Ut, Of the individual parts; and, 2d, Of the entire organ
as subservient to the sense of sight.
1. I he external protective parts, composed of the eye¬
brows, the eyelids, and eyelashes, serve to shade the eye
from excess of light, to diffuse over the cornea the seba¬
ceous matter and lacrymal fluid, whereby the surface is
PHYSIOLOGY.
678
Physiology kept ductile and moist; and, lastly, to prevent the access of
dust floating in the atmosphere. These different actions
are for the most part involuntary, and carried on partly by
the cerebro-spinal, and partly by the ganglionic system o
nerves performing excito-motory, excito-secretory, and
excito-nutrient functions. The watery fluid secreted by
the lacrymal gland, and which is diffused over the anterior
surface of the eye by the motion of the lids, keeping it
moist and translucent, is conducted by two openings in the
inner corner of the eye through the lacrymal duct into the
nose, from whence it is discharged. 2. The eye-ball has a
remarkable amount of mobility, in consequence of _ six
muscles, four straight and two oblique, which act upon it in
various ways. They are supplied by the third, fourth, and
sixth pairs of motor nerves, and by a sensitive branch of the
fifth pair. The object of so many nerves being distributed
to them seems to be the correction or pre vention of the simul¬
taneous action which would take place in the two eyes if all
their muscles were supplied by branches of the same nerve.
3. The optic nerve, on entering the eyeball, is a little com¬
pressed, but on reaching the internal surface branches out
to form a membrane. On the inside of this membrane,
however, are placed several layers of ganglionic cell>, and
externally, a membrane (Jacob’s membrane) composed of
minute columns or rods, standing vertical to the retina, and
composed of a structureless, transparent substance like glass.
The whole retina is transparent, and it is now supposed that
the rays of light pass through it backwards, and are re-
flected by these rods, or Jacob’s membrane, forwards to the
sensitive'branches of the optic nerve, which conveys the
influence of the impressions so excited to the brain, to pro¬
duce the sense of vision. For this purpose, the rods ap¬
pear to be connected with the filaments of nerve by means
of connective fibres. 4. I he optical apparatus consists of
four lenses of different structures, densities, and curves,
filling up the substance of the ball, and forming, with the
strong external case, or sclerotica, a perfect achromatic
camera obscura. The most anterior of these lenses is the
cornea, composed of condensed epidermis resembling horn ;
and hence its name. The second lens, proceeding back¬
wards, is composed of a watery fluid, or aqueous humour,
principally accumulated between the cornea and the iris.
The third lens is the crystalline,—one of the most remark¬
able bodies in nature,—composed of concentric laminae,
like those of an onion, united by serrated or notched sur¬
faces, and increasing in density from the circumference to
the centre. The fourth lens, or vitreous humour, is of
gelatinous consistence, fills up the large proportion of the
ball, and appears to be a watery fluid inclosed within
fibrous meshes of the greatest tenuity and fineness. 1 hese
horny, watery, glassy, and gelatinous lenses, united, fulfil all
the conditions optically required to produce achromatism so
perfectly as to set the optician’s art at defiance. In addi¬
tion to the lenses, the eyeball is lined by a black opaque
membrane, the choroid, to absorb unnecessary rays of
light, the entrance of which is further regulated by a move-
able aperture in the contractile iris, called the pupil, which
is operated upon by excito-motory influences, so as to pro¬
duce its contraction or enlargement.
In regarding the entire eye as an organ of vision, there
are various points which deserve consideration. Among these
are,—1. The means by which the apparatus is so readily ac¬
commodated to various distances. On this subject numerous
theories have been advanced, all of which answer the pur¬
pose, if the truth of certain data be granted. It has been sup¬
posed that the curvature of thecorneais changed ; but thishas
not been demonstrated. It has been imagined that the cur¬
vature ofthe lens is changed; a view which has in recent times
again been supported by the observations of Kramer. It has
been thought that the lens is drawn forward by a contractile
non-voluntary muscle—the ciliary muscle—or is pushed
forwards from behind by the turgidity of the ciliary processes. Physiology
Some have thought that the contractions of the iris have
much to do with the focal adaptation of the eye ; and others,
that it is owing to the pressure on the eyeball of the external
muscles which move it. The question is still undecided. 2.
The natural power of adaptation is interfered with in myopia,
or short-sightedness; in presbyopia,or long-sightedness ; and
in amblyopia, or a peculiar dimness of vision. The first is
owing to too great curvature of the lenses, and is corrected
by concave glasses in spectacles ; the second is produced by
too little curvature of the lenses, and is corrected by con¬
vex glasses in spectacles; the third is owing to altered
shape or oblique position of the lens, and is corrected by
the use of cylindrical glass lenses. 3. Another perversion
of vision consists of what is called colour-blindness, or Dal¬
tonism. Some persons cannot distinguish colours at all,
everything appearing shadowed or light, like an engraving.
Others cannot see brown, gray, or neutral tints; whilst a
third class confound red, blue, and yellow with green,
purple, orange, and brown. Red, blue, and yellow are
never confounded with each other; but red and green are
most commonly so. This condition may be dependent on
some fault in the nerves of vision, possibly in the retina,
and more especially in the refractive rods; or it may be
owing to some change in the refractive media or lenses.
But the theory is not yet determined. 4. All objects re¬
fracted on the retina are inverted, and yet we see them in
their natural position. To explain this fact, it has been
supposed that during infancy this sense, with all the others,
undergoes a slow education, and that one so corrects the
aberrations of the others that gradually we learn to recog¬
nise things as we do. The case of Cheselden, wdio operated
on a young man successfully who had been born blind, in
consequence of congenital cataract, contains many facts in
favour of this view. 5. The circumstance of our seeing
one object, although we receive two images in the two eyes,
is explained by the regular action of the muscles of the
eyeball. When this is deranged, as in squinting, or frorn
the use of narcotics, we see double. Sometimes only halt
or a part of an object is seen ; a circumstance attributed to
paralysis of a portion of the retina, or to some disorder of
the brain connected with the terminations in that organ of
the optic nerves. 7. The retina, at the point where tlm
optic nerve enters it, is insensible; whereas the foramen of
Somerring, in the direct axis of the eye, perfectly transmits
the rays of light. This aperture, however, is not deficient
in Jacob’s membrane; a circumstance which points out
the great importance of that structure as a refracting me¬
dium. 8. An impression made on the retina remains a cer¬
tain time. This is proved by looking at a dazzling light or
bright colour, and observing that, on turning away the head
suddenly, it continues for a longer or shorter period. 9.
Some persons are subject to ocular spectra. Remarkable
objects, inanimate or living, may appear before them,
and have all the appearance of reality. 1 hey always de¬
pend on a state of nervous exhaustion, from ill health, de¬
pression, or the use of certain drugs, as alcohol, opium, or
other narcotic substances.
Hearing.—It is necessary for hearing that certain oscil¬
lations in the air, water, or solid bodies should reach the
expanded filaments of the auditory nerve, and that the in¬
fluence of impressions so produced should be conveyed to
the brain. This is accomplished through the medium of a
very complicated organ or acoustic apparatus, the ear, for a
description of which we must refer to the article Anatomy.
The most essential part of the organ is the vestibule, that
exists in every class of animals in which an auditory appa¬
ratus is to be detected. There also the principal expan¬
sion of the auditory nerve takes place, and there it is
brought into connection with the vibrations of sound from
the exterior. In man, such is the complication of parts super-
i
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology added to the vestibule or central ear,—viz., the cochlea and
'v-*'^ semicircular canals,—that the whole is denominated the
labyrinth. It consists of chambers and canals hollowed out
in the solid part of the temporal bone, containing a fluid, in
which various branches of the auditory nerve are ramified,
and so arranged that the slightest vibration communicated
to the fluid must affect the nerve. In man, sonorous vi¬
brations reach the labyrinth in two ways:—1st, Through
the external ear; and, 2d, Through the bones of the head.
I he ticking of a watch is heard as distinctly when placed
between the teeth as when applied to the ear, and the note
of a tuning-fork, when it can be no longer heard by the
ear, again gives rise to sound when placed in contact with
the teeth. It is by the direct vibration of the bones of the
head also that we become cognisant of the sound of our
own voices. It has been supposed that the cochlea is
that part of the labyrinth more immediately connected with
those dii ect vibrations ; whilst the vestibule and semicircu-
lai canals is that portion of it which enables the nerve to
. receive vibrations from without, indirectly, through the air.
'Ihese latter vibrations, however, are diminished or inten¬
sified by means of the external and middle portions of the
ear. The former, or auricle, serves to collect the sounds,
and convey it through the short channel, or meatus, to the
membrane or drum of the ear, which closes it internally.
In this passage a number of ceruminous glands pour out a
waxy secretion of a bitter taste, which, with the hairs that
grow from it, serve as a very sufficient protection from fo-
leign bodies, and especially insects. I he membrana
tympani, or drum of the ear, is connected with one end of a
chain of small bones (called the malleus, incus, stapes),
which pass across the middle ear, or cavity of the tympa¬
num ; the other being attached to a membrane which closes
the oval opening into the cavity of the vestibule. These
moveable bones render their membranes tense or lax ac¬
cording to the intensity of the sonorous vibrations impinged
upon them. 1 his is accomplished through the agencv of
minute, muscles which contract according to the influences
transmitted by a series of excito-motory nerves. Hence
this part of the apparatus is admirably adapted to carry the
nicest vibrations in such a manner as will enable them best
to conduce to the production of impressions on the auditory
nerve. The cavity of the tympanum or middle ear is filled
with air, which passes through the Eustachian tube. This
not only permits the free vibration of the chain of ossicles,
but further serves to keep the air of a uniform temperature ;
a circumstance of the greatest importance to the continu¬
ance of good hearing.
There is much similarity between the laws which govern
the reception and reflexion of nervous vibrations and of
rays of light; and, looking at the means necessary to effect
this, there is a close analogy between the ear and the eye
as organs of hearing and vision. The intensity of light and
of sound are both regulated by muscular parts, independent
of the will, operating through a ganglion and excito-motory
nerves ; the ciliary resembles the cochlear muscle, and the
reflecting-rods of Jacob’s membrane have their analogue in
certain vibratory rods attached to the acoustic nerve where
it is expanded on the lamina spiralis of the cochlea. But
not to carry the comparison further, it may be noticed, that
impressions made on the auditory nerve, like those on the
retina, remain a certain time, as is shown not only by in¬
terrupted vibrations producing continuous musical tones,
but by the experiments of Savart, who found that the re¬
moval of one or more teeth from toothed wheels when in
motion occasioned no appreciable difference of sound.
679
Voice and Speech.
Voice is a function of the larynx, while speech is per-
foimed by the tongue, lips, and cheeks, in conjunction with
the larynx. (For the anatomical description of this or vhr, • i
gan, see the article Anatomy.) All that need be said here 1- -3
is, that it is composed of a tube made up of cartilao-es
which are connected together by ligaments, and moved upon
one another by muscles. In the interior of the tube is a
narrow chink in the shape of the letter V, having the point
forwards, formed by two folds of membrane called the vocal
cords, and which, thrown into vibration by the air rushim-
from the lungs, gives rise to sound. Different degrees of
tensity are given to these cords; and the chink, or rima, of
the glottis is widened or narrowed by the various muscles of
the larynx, and position of the cartilages; points that can
only be understood by a careful study of the organ, which,
in construction, resembles the mouthpiece of a clarionet or
hautboy.
Voice.- Nearly all air-breathing animals possess a voice ;
in man and a few birds only can it be so modified as to be
capable of producing articulation. The vocal cords are caused
to vibrate by the currents of air coming from below, and at
once lose tins powder by destruction of the laryngeal nerves,
which, by paralysing the muscles that regulate their neces¬
sary tensity, prevents their vibration and the production of
sound. These vocal cords, therefore, are the essential parts
of the organ of voice. Their tensity is varied sometimes
by muscular action, and sometimes by the column of air.
Thus, to produce low notes they are relaxed, and even
wrinkled when at rest, but obtain the necessary degree of
stretching by tbe pressure of the column of air. High
notes, on the other hand, are caused by producing great
tensity of the cords, and narrowing of the glottis; and inter¬
mediate notes, by intermediate degrees of tensity, and nar¬
rowing. The quality as well as the compass of the voice
varies in different persons. In the male the deepest is the
bass, the highest the tenor, and the intermediate the bari¬
tone. The corresponding tones in the female are the con¬
tralto, the soprano, and the mezzo-soprano. In men, owin<>-
to the prominence of the thyroid cartilage, the vocal cords
are longer than in the female, as 3 to 2 ; and his voice in
consequence is deeper, and in the musical scale an octave
lower. Boys have treble voices, like women ; but as man¬
hood approaches, the thyroid cartilage undergoes a change
in its form, and while doing so the voice is cracked or
broken. Afterwards it becomes manly and deep ; so that
the highest soprano of a boy may be converted into the
deepest bass of the man. Male voices also possess twro
series of notes,—chest or true notes, and false or falsetto
notes. How the latter are produced is unknown. The
strength of the voice does not so much depend upon the
current of air, as upon the strength and accuracy of the
muscular movements regulating the vocal cords. Hence
why practice, which gives accuracy and tone to the muscles,
is of such importance in the schools of singing.
Speech.—The voice, so modified by the additional ac¬
tion of the tongue, cheeks, and lips, as to signify objects,
actions, and the properties of things, constitutes language.
Languages vary greatly as to the sounds which enter into
them, and hence the difficulty persons who have been
educated in one, experience in learning others. Words,
however, may be produced by the mouth and fauces alone’
without the voice. This is whispering. Hence there may
be speech without voice, as there is voice without speech.
Vocal language, however, can only be accomplished by the
combined use of the laryngeal and oral apparatuses. Ar¬
ticulate sounds are divided into vowels and consonants.
Vowels are formed in the larynx, whilst consonants are pro¬
duced in the air-passages above it. Many of these last,
however, cannot be uttered unless the elements of a vowel
aie pionounced with them consonantly ; hence their name.
Thus g and k are formed of the Vowels e and a, modified
by the oial aperture. It is by different degrees in the
opening and contraction of the mouth and oral canal
680
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology that most continuous sounds are formed ; others are sudden
and momentary, cannot be sustained, and are called explosive
sounds, such as b, p, d, and g. Hence they are difficult to
pronounce well in singing; and this is why the Italian lan¬
guage, in which they are seldom heard, is so much better
adapted to songs than English or German. When the laryn¬
geal and oral parts of the organ of speech cannot be com¬
bined, some letters, especially the explosive ones, as t and p,
are not consonant with the vowel; and stammering is the
result. It is to be corrected by a careful study ol the mode
of pronouncing the various consonants, constant practice,
and avoiding hurry and nervous agitation, which render all
muscular action uncertain. Ventriloquism is speaking
without giving external evidence of utterance, and keeping
the oral aperture immoveable while the attention of the
audience is directed as much as possible to the thing or
place from which the voice is supposed to come.
SLEEP—DREAMS—SOMNAMBULISM—MONO-LDEISM.
Sleep is that temporary suspension of the cerebral
functions which in animals alternates with their exercise,
for a certain time, which suspension, however, is capable ot
interruption on the application of stimuli to the sensory
nerves. Unless this last condition could be carried out, the
individual would labour under coma, syncope, or asphyxia,—
states more or less allied to sleep. All action in the living
economy produces waste of tissue ; and hence the necessity
of rest in order that substance may be added. rI he cerebral
functions, especially, are governed by this law, and we are
obliged to submit to their suspension for a certain period,
which is natural sleep. On awakening, we feel refreshed;
greater strength is imparted to the muscles, higher sensi¬
bility to the nerves, and greater power to the mind. Sleep
is more or less profound according as the body is more or
less fatigued, and according to the constitution of the in¬
dividual ; as in some persons it is naturally light, whilst
in others it assumes a soporose character. Habit and tem¬
perament also exert a strong influence over sleep, some
persons falling into or arousing from it at particular hours,
independent of all other circumstances. Its invasion
may be sudden or gradual. As a general rule the senses
and reasoning faculties sleep first, whilst imagination and the
lighter ones remain longer awake. We may also awake
suddenly; but there is usually an intermediate condition be¬
tween sleep and waking. It is in these intermediate con¬
ditions that the sleep is lightest, and that persons can be
aroused with the greatest facility. The amount of sleep
required by man varies according to age, temperament,
habit, and previous fatigue. In infancy and extreme old
age life is almost a continuous sleep. In adults there is no
rule, some persons requiring more and some less. The
average period spent by mankind in sleep is eight hours
in the twenty-four, being one-third of human life.
Dreams.—Not unfrequently while some mental facul¬
ties are suspended others are still active, and are busy with
numerous ideas, which succeed each other with more or
less regularity. This is dreaming. There is an absence
of consciousness regarding external things, and a want of
control in regulating the current of thought; so that the
principle of suggestion—that is, one thought calling up an¬
other in a certain sequence—has unlimited governance
ot the mind. In some rare cases the dreaming thoughts
are very consistent and vivid, but generally speaking
they are more or less confused or incongruous. Not
unfrequently, when seemingly in danger, we are governed
by an intense desire to escape from it, while we possess an
agonizing consciousness that we have not the slightest power
to do so. I his is incubus, or nightmare. Another curious
circumstance is the rapidity with which, when dreaming,
trains of thought pass through the mind, the events of years
being apparently compressed into moments. The most Physiology
mentally agitating dreams need not -occasion the slightest
change of position or muscular movement, although some¬
times they produce restlessness, various gestures, or emo¬
tional indications. But when the ideas of a dream govern
the motions and conversation of an individual, while the
memory and other faculties of the mind are still so sus¬
pended that on awakening he is quite unaware of what
has occurred, the condition is called somnambulism.
Somnambulism.—The peculiarity of this state consists
in the mind being wholly occupied with one idea or train
of thought, to the exclusion of all other considerations.
Thus there may be complete insensibility to bodily pain,
to loud sounds, flashes of light, or other ordinary stimuli;
although whatever is spoken or done in harmony with the
subject thought of is heard and appreciated, often with
unusual acuteness. We can frequently change the current
of the ideas by audibly suggesting others, when all the
feelings and emotions in connexion with the new subject
are called into action, to the exclusion of those which pre- .
viously existed. Thus if the attention be strongly fixed on
a distant object, impressions made on the skin will not in¬
duce sensation ; but if the attention be directed to the
skin, its sensibility often becomes wonderfully excited, and
pain is experienced from the contact of bodies that, under
ordinary circumstances, would scarcely be felt. The same
rule applies to all the other senses. In the same manner
the reasoning power is often increased on a particular point,
and a variety of things performed, or movements gone
through, that the individual otherwise could never have ac¬
complished. Some men perform all the acts which at
the time are suggested to them, or describe the various
scenes which in imagination are placed before them. In
this way a somnambulist may be made not only to think
and converse on any subject, but to go through any kind
of action, however ridiculous or even fatiguing. He will
place himself under every variety of condition presented
to his mind, and perform the appropriate motions, as well
as give utterance to the ideas which such conditions would
naturally give rise to. Thus he may be made to hunt,
swim, fight, appear intoxicated, visit distant cities or lands,
&c. None of these acts and ideas are remembered in the
ordinary waking condition, although when again thrown
into a similar state, they may be taken up and continued.
Such a person may be said to have two kinds of memory,—
one when awake, and one when dreaming; or, as it has been
called by some, a double consciousness. Somnambulism
may come on involuntarily, at regular or irregular periods,
or it may be excited artificially. In either case it may be
accompanied by various nervous phenomena, denominated
catalepsy, trance, ecstacy, and so on.
Mono-ideism.—Dreaming and the phenomena of som¬
nambulism may be excited in some persons artificially, when
the acts of the mind, sensation, and motion may be com¬
pletely governed by means of suggestive ideas, even al¬
though the individual be conscious. This state has been called
monoideism. (Braid.) The mode of effecting this is to cause
a certain number of persons to fix their attention on a small
object, as a coin, or submit to have monotonous passes made
with the hands before their face. On an average, at least
one person in twenty so treated feels in a shorter or longer
time, first a mistiness of vision or stiffness in the eyelids,
and occasionally deep-drawn sighs, hurried respiration, and
signs of general excitement are visible. If now such per¬
sons are respectively told in a confident manner that they
cannot open their eyes, it will be found that they cannot do
so, especially if their attention be more strongly directed
to the eyelids by touching or by pointing to them. But on
receiving permission, or on being commanded to open them,
this is done at once. Such persons may now, as in certain
cases of somnambulism, have every kind of motion, sensa-
Physiology tion, or mental act produced, governed, or arrested, accord-
ing to the endless train of suggestive ideas that may be com¬
municated to the individual. Many of the lower animals
also appear to be susceptible of being impressed by what
strongly arrests their attention, in such a way that they are
rendered incapable of voluntary motion, or irresistibly im¬
pelled towards the object. Hence the long glittering bodies
o serpents, or the glaring eyes of other animals, fascinate
birds and small quadrupeds, and render them an easy prey
to their enemies. Similar effects are produced in indivi¬
duals who look from heights and precipices, and experience
an uncontrollable desire to leap down, although it be to cer¬
tain destruction.
Like phenomena have occurred in all ages, produced
in certain persons by predominant ideas, and variously mo¬
dified according to the education, politics, or religion of the
period. Thus the effects produced on many votaries durino-
their initiation into the ancient mysteries; the ecstacies of
the Pythian and other priestesses ; the influence of reli-
. enthusiasm; the dancing epidemics of St Vitus or
ot 1 arantism in the middle ages ; the hallucinations of the
Lonvulsionaires at the tomb of St Medard, in Paris, &c.
&c., are of a like character. Numerous perversions of the
nervous functions, identical in their nature with those de¬
scribed, consisting of sensory illusions, muscular convul¬
sions or rigidity, and peculiar trains of thought influencino-
acts and conversation, may be found in the histories of
witchcraft or demonology, in the legends of the saints, the
journal of Mr Wesley, and in the accounts given by travel-
Jers of the religious camp-meetings in the woods of Ame¬
rica. I hey are perhaps more common now than formerly
a i er^*:e even rn.ore astonishment among the ignorant; the
only difference being, that the same phenomena, which in a
ark age were attributed to divination or incantation, now
assume the garb of science, and are ascribed to magnetism
or electricity.
It is unnecessary to enter into any lengthened argument
to refute the numerous hypotheses which ascribe these
effects to external influences. There is no series of well-
ascertained facts capable of supporting such a doctrine :
whereas it would be easy to prove that all the phenomena
really occasioned depend on suggestive ideas communicated
to the person affected. But while these theories scarcely
merit attention, the facts themselves are highly important
and demand the careful consideration of the physiologist
and medical practitioner. The effect of mind on the body
has from the earliest periods been seized upon by indivi¬
duals as a ground for veneration or astonishment. In an¬
cient times the heathen priests were the physicians, and the
temples were converted into so many dispensaries, at which
the sick applied for relief. In Catholic countries, during
the middle ages, the offices of priest and physician were fre¬
quently united in one person ; so that the powerful effects
of cei tain shrines, and the benefits of pilgrimages in cases
not admitting of simple cure, met with every encourage-
meilt' w^at *las preceded, it must be allowed that,
so far from its being improbable that real cures were so
effected, all that we know of the effects of confident pro¬
mises on the one hand, and belief on the other, render it
very likely that many such occurred. The legends of the
saints, the history of witchcraft, the journal of Mr Wesley, the
accounts of celebrated pilgrimages, and of the virtues of par¬
ticular shrines, and the writings of religious enthusiasts ge¬
nerally, abound in wonderful cures. Charms, amulets, and
relics are stated to have at once banished all kinds of agony,
and removed numerous nervous diseases. Many of these
are certainly incredible, whilst others are perfectly conceiv-
a The benefits of the royal touch are confirmed by
he observations of Richard Wiseman, and the cures per¬
formed by Greatrakes are warranted by Robert Boyle. In
all these cases, there can be little doubt that any benefit
VOL. XVII.
PHYSIOLOGY.
681
which did occur may be attributed to a strong belief on tho pl, • i
part of the patient, in the efficacy of the means employed w JS
There can be little doubt that the facts recently ascer¬
tained in connection with this subject open up a new field
for investigation, not only in physiology and practical me¬
dicine, but in what relates to evidence as it is nowr received
in courts of law.
As regards the nature of this condition, it seems analo¬
gous to that of sleep or dreaming, in which certain facul-
ties of the mind are active, and may be even stimulated into
excessive action, whilst others are suspended. All the phe¬
nomena produced are strictly analogous to what medical
men are acquainted with in various morbid states • and it
must now be considered as well established, that in certain
conditions of the nervous system they may be induced at
will. 1 his conclusion, however, is something new for it
has but recently been received in physiology or pathology
that a condition of the cerebral functions may be occa¬
sioned in apparently healthy persons in which suggestive
ideas are capable of producing those phenomena we have
described, and which render them, for the time, as irre¬
sponsible as monomaniacs. Yet such is really the fact, and
once admitted into physiology, must have an important in¬
fluence on the theory and practice of medicine. Such a con-
ditmn nrny probably be accounted for physiologically in
the following manner:— J
We have previously seen that the cerebral lobes contain
white fibres, which run in three directions :—nn, Those
which pass from below upwards, and connect the hemisphe¬
rical ganglion with the spinal cord ; 2d, Those which pass
transversely, forming the commissures, and which unite the
two hemispheres; and, 3rf, Those which run from before
backwards, uniting the anterior with the posterior lobes on
each side. It has also been stated that these fibres are
probably subservient to that combination of the mental
faculties which characterizes thought. Now all metaphy¬
sicians and physiologists are agreed that the mind is com¬
posed of various faculties, and that different portions of the
nervous mass are necessary for their manifestation. True
it is by no means determined what or how many faculties
mind should be divided into; still less is it known which
parts of the brain are necessary for the manifestation of
each. But let the first proposition be granted, then there
is no difficulty in supposing that one or more of these may
be paralysed or suspended, whilst others are entire, any
more than there is in knowing that sensation may be lost
whilst motion remains intact, although the nerve fibres of
both run side by side. It may be presumed, then, that cer¬
tain mental faculties are, as the result of exhausted atten¬
tion, temporarily paralysed or suspended, whilst others are
rendered active in consequence of being stimulated by sug¬
gestive ideas; that the psychical stimuli of the former make
no impressions on the cerebral conducting fibres, whilst
those of the latter are increased in intensity ; that the pro¬
per balance of the mind is thereby disturbed, and thus the
individual for the time being acts and talks as if the predomi¬
nant idea was a reality. I he condition is analogous so far
with ordinary somnambulism, certain forms of hypochon-
diiasis, and monomania, but admits of infinite changes, from
the nature of the idea suggested.
According to this theory, therefore, we suppose that a
psychical stimulus is generated, which, uncontrolled by the
other mental operations acting under ordinary circum¬
stances, induces impressions on the peripheral extremities
of the cerebral fibres, the influence of which only is con¬
veyed outwards to the muscles moved. In the same man¬
ner, the remembrance of sensations can always be called
tip by the mind ; but under ordinary circumstances we know
they are only remembrances, from the exercise of iud--
ment, comparison, and other mental faculties; but these
being exhausted, in the condition under consideration, while
4 R
682
Physiology the suggested idea is predominant, leave the individual a
believer in its reality.
In this manner we attribute to the faculties of the mind
a certain power of correcting the fallacies which each is
liable to fall into, in the same way that the illusions of one
sense are capable of being detected by the healthy use of
the other senses. We further believe that the apparatus
necessary for the former operations consists of the nerve-
fibres which unite different parts of the hemispherical gang¬
lion, whilst that necessary for the latter are the nerve-fibres
connecting together the organs of sense and the ganglia at
the base of the encephalon. A healthy and sound mind is
characterized by the proper balance of all the mental facul¬
ties, in the same manner that a healthy body is dependent
on the proper action of all the nerves. There are mental
and sensorial illusions, one caused by predominant ideas,
and corrected by proper reasoning; the other caused by per¬
version of one sense, and corrected by the right application
of the others. Both these conditions are intimately united,
and operate on each other, inasmuch as voluntary and emo¬
tional movements and sensation are mental operations.
This theory, if further elaborated, appears to be con¬
sistent with all known facts, and capable of explaining them
on physiological principles.
FUNCTION OF REPRODUCTION.
The process whereby the countless variety of organisms
which constitute the vegetable and animal worlds is per¬
petuated on the surface of the globe has from the earliest
periods attracted the attention of physiologists, naturalists, and
philosophers. In recent times, the excellence of the achro¬
matic microscope has enabled us to penetrate much fur¬
ther into the mysteries involved in it, and the whole sub¬
ject is now one of vast extent. We shall speak of this func¬
tion as consisting of three stages:—\st, The production
and discharge of germs; 2d, Of the fecundation of such
germs ; 3d, The changes which follow fecundation.
THE PRODUCTION AND DISCHARGE OF GERMS.
We have seen that at the earliest period of development
in all organized beings, without exception, there is formed a
molecular blastema which originates a nucleated cell. U p
to that point where sexes are manifest, the process of repro¬
duction is identically the same with that of cell growth.
The peculiarity of the function of generation in the higher
organisms consists in the superaddition to this process of a
particular act, whereby7 the further development of germ-
cells is occasioned. There is a special apparatus in ani¬
mals and in plants,—the ovary,—the function of which is
to mature a germ, that from the time of its first forma¬
tion is capable of becoming the rudiment or embryo of a
new being, and which is often separated from its parent in
a form altogether dissimilar to that which it is ultimately to
assume. This sometimes takes place as a spore, at others
as an egg ; and hence the terms sporuliferous and oviparous,
as distinguished from viparous reproduction. The more
heterogeneous a structure becomes,—that is, the more differ¬
ence is manifested in the structure and properties of its
separate parts,—the less title lias any one to be regarded as
a separate individual, since it cannot maintain an independ¬
ent existence, nor reproduce the entire structure. When an
organism merely consists in a multiplication of similar parts,
these parts may separate, and constitute independent exist¬
ences, as in the Algae among plants, and in the Polypes and
Radiata among animals. This has been called Jissiparous
generation—a mode of reproduction that can never take place
in the more highly organized beings. This manner of pro¬
pagation is identical with that of multiplication by cells
alone, with this difference, that at one period groups of cells
are aggregated and united together, and afterwards separate.
PHYSIOLOGY
Germ-cells are constantly forming and ripening in the Physiology
ovaries of plants and animals, and are separated from them
at particular times. In the separation of these oviparous
cells, indeed, a tendency to periodicity is manifested. Thus
plants flower at certain seasons,—some in spring, others in
summer, and a third class in autumn or winter,—with great
regularity. Throughout the whole range of animals the
same thing is observable. They all present a breeding
period, at which time only, ova are fully developed, and
capable of being fecundated. The reproductive organs of
plants and animals at this time become elevated in tempe¬
rature. Among plants, this is most appreciable in the
Arum tribe, where flowers are collected in great numbers
within cases which act as non-conductors. On one occa¬
sion, Brogniart observed that in the Colocasia odor a the
temperature had been demonstrated to be 8° above that of
the surrounding air. This was increased in the following
day to 18°, and during the emission of pollen on the three
succeeding days to 20°, after which it began to diminish
with the fading of the flower. In animals, the same eleva¬
tion of temperature has caused agriculturists to denominate
this season as the period of heat. It originates in them
from excessive congestion in the capillaries of the part,
causing great local and more or less general disturbance of
the system, the result of an augmented nutrition in the
ovaries necessary for the development of the ova. This
congestion causes rupture of the vessels and discharge of
blood, which in the human female, and in a few of the
monkey tribes, causes an external flow, known as the men¬
strual fluid, while the process in them has received the
name of menstruation. The essential act, however, is not
the discharge of a fluid externally, but the formation,
ripening, and separation of ova from the ovaries. Mul¬
titudes of seeds and of ova are formed in this manner, at
regular periods, in plants and animals, which prove abortive,
and the history of which is identical with the formation,
ripening, and disintegration of simple nucleated cells, which
have no power of reproduction.
The manner in which ova are formed in the ovary has
been well studied by Martin Barry, who informs us that
molecules and granules are deposited in groups among the
fibrous stroma of the organ. Around a large granule
smaller ones are aggregated, and become surrounded by a
membrane,—the ovisac,—so as to form a nucleated cell
containing granular matter. This granular matter now
separates into two portions. The inner forms a membrane
that immediately surrounds the yolk, and from its transpa¬
rent appearance has been called the zona pellucida. I he
outer divides into two layers, one of which, covering the
zona pellucida, he called the tunica granulosa; and the
other, which lines the ovisac, the membrana granulosa.
These two membranes are united together by four bands,
the retinacula,—having transparent fluid between them.
The whole structure now forms a vesicle, which, from its
first describer, De Graaf, has received the name of Graafian
vesicle, and consists of an outer fibrous and vascular mem¬
brane ; another inner one,—the ovisac of Barry, having sus¬
pended from it, by the retinacula, the ovum, composed of
zona pellucida, yolk, and germinal vesicle. Graafian ve¬
sicles may frequently be seen before puberty in the ovary,
but after that period they increase in number, and may be
observed in all stages of development scattered through
the substance of the organ, those most advanced being
near the surface. Towards the end of each menstrual
period, such as are ripe burst from the quantity of san-
guinolent serum or blood which is poured into them from
the external vascular membrane, and the ovum escapes
from the surface into the fimbriated extremity of the Fal¬
lopian tube, which closes round the ovary, in order to
receive it, and through which it is conveyed to the uterus.
The cavity thus left in the ovary is most frequently
Physiology filled with coagulated blood, the result of haemorrhage
r ^ e v^scu^ar pr external layer of the Graafian vesicle,
whicli participates in the congestion of the menstrual period.
nis coagulum of blood becomes gradually absorbed, in
the course of which it changes its colour, and assumes a
yellow and puckered appearance. In this state it has been
called corpus luteum, and it has been supposed to present
such peculiar appearances when fecundation has occurred
as to wan ant medical men in asserting that pregnancy
had taken place—a grave error, which modern science
as completely exploded. Ihese appearances are de-
scnbed as being, ls£, An irregular form in the false, but a
regular one in the true corpus luteum ; 2d, An absence of
a central cavity lined by a membrane in the false, whilst
m the true there are both; 3d, Absence of concentric radii
m the false, while in the true they are present; 4th, The
false may be present in both ovaries, while the true only
exist m one. All these signs have been shown to be in
no way distinctive by numerous recent observations. Thus
in women who have never had children, there have been
found corpora lutea exactly resembling those supposed to
follow pregnancy. In the lower animals, also, four or five
corpora lutea have been found in the ovaries, resemblino-
each other, although one foetus only was found in the
uterus. It must be manifest that these ideas were the
result of the notion that fecundation took place in the
ovary, which assuredly it never does. Whether a corpus
luteum during pregnancy disappears less rapidly than in the
unimpregnated state is not known, but such is the only
possible difference which can exist in the two states. That
it is possible for any physiologist or pathologist to pro¬
nounce with certainty between the bodies which do or
do not coincide with pregnancy, has been demonstrated in
the negative by several remarkable cases which have been
raised in the courts of law.
fhe capability for procreation marks a peculiar period
ot life, which has been called puberty, on account of the
development the pubes then undergoes. In woman, this
generally occurs between the thirteenth and sixteenth year,
but is earlier in warm climates, and later in cold ones. It
has also been observed to be earlier in manufacturing
towns than in thinly-peopled districts. Mental and bodily
habits exercise an influence; girls accustomed to luxury
and indulgence undergoing this change earlier than those
reared in hardihood and self-denial. At this time those
general and local changes occur which distinguish the
adult woman : the mammary glands enlarge ; a deposition
of fat takes place in the cellular tissue of the skin, which
gives to the female form its roundness and fulness; and the
menstrual fluid, the most unequivocal sign of puberty,
commences to flow. In man, puberty is marked by the
low and rough voice—from the size of the larynx and
elongation of the vocal cords; by the growth of hair on
the chin, upper lips, and cheeks, as well as over the body
and limbs; the greater physical power and activity, as com-
pared with the female; the capability of enduring more
fatigue; and a larger amount of courage and daring.
PHYSIOLOGY.
683
fecundation of germs.
The germ-cells, prepared and formed in the ovaries, are
discharged from those organs at each menstrual period, and
would be excreted from the economy without bein" further
developed, unless they encountered vibratile particle's formed
in another organ. In phanerogamous plants, the pollen
tube enters that of the pistil, and the pollen itself is con¬
veyed to the ovule at its base. The contact of the pul¬
verulent pollen with this ovule fecundates the latter. Of
e nature of the stimulus so imparted we know nothing;
but the fact is well established in science, that no ovule
can furnish productive seeds unless the pollen has had
access to it. In all animals in which ova are formed them, • i
same thmg takes place. Two sets of organs analogous to
those in plants are found. In some creatures, as in certain
Mollusca, these are also associated in one individual; but in
all the vertebrate tribes they exist in different animals,
male and female. The former is furnished with organs
ca ed the testes, which secrete the spermatic or seminal
fluid I Ins contains minute bodies, possessed of inde¬
pendent motion, which they retain for several days after
they have been excreted. In them the fecundating power
resides, for it is only when these come in contact with the ova
discharged from the ovary of the female that the latter are
ever developed into distinct living beings. From this mo¬
ment that series of changes commences in the ovum
whereby an embryo is formed. For this purpose, however
various circumstances are necessary, especially a fitting
locality, proper temperature, moisture, &c. Seeds which
have been impregnated retain a dormant degree of vitality
for many years, and when at length placed in these favour¬
able circumstances, they develop themselves. Generally
speaking, instinct guides the lower tribes to deposit their
eggs in appropiiate localities, and the extraordinary variety
of such positions selected by insect tribes, by fishes anil
reptiles, has furnished a curious subject of observation for
the naturalist. In birds, the fecundated ova are hatched
by the mother, who elevates them to a proper temperature
vi it i the heat of her own body. In mammiferous animals,
the young are not born as ova; an organ,—the uterus,—is
provided for their reception, where they grow and become
developed ; and when at length they are capable of support¬
ing an independent existence, they are excreted or parted
tro™ th^ body of the parent by the process of parturition.
Ihe form of the vibratile seminal particle varies in dif¬
ferent animals. In mammals generally, it has a round or
oval extremity, a so-called head, and a filiform appendage
called a tail, and varies in length from the 100th to the
500th of an inch in length. In birds, the thick extremity
is moie tapering, and the whole is of a spiral form. In
certain reptiles and fishes, the filament is much longer, and
thickest in the middle, tapering at both extremities, having
occasionally a delicate continuation wound spirally round
the thicker portion. In some insects and Crustacea, they
present curious irregular forms, without a filament, and are
immoveable. In the vast majority of cases, however, they
piesent active contractile movements. In mammals espe-
cisdly, when watching these under the microscope, it is
difficult to divest oneself of the idea that they are ani¬
malcules, as they progress through the fluid with the heads
forward, propelled by continued vibratile lashings of the
tail. I he notion put forth by some observers, that they
possess internal organs, we have never, after careful re¬
search, been able to confirm; and the circumstance that
similar structures, with like movements, exist in the repro¬
ductive organs of many plants, negatives the idea of their
being distinct animalcules.
The mode of fecundation varies in different animals. In
some molluscous tribes male and female organs are united
in one animal. It is an hermaphrodite, like many plants,
and is self-impregnated. In fishes, the female sheds its
spawn, and the male, swimming over it, sprinkles the sper¬
matic fluid on the ova, and may be observed at the breed¬
ing season to follow her for that purpose. In the higher
animals, union of the sexes takes place for the same end.
In reptiles, especially in the frog and toad, the male sits
on the back of the female, and sheds the semen over the
ova immediately after they have left the cloaca. In birds
and mammals, it is necessary that the spermatic fluid be de¬
posited in the vagina of the f emale by the intromission of the
penis. From the circumstance that fecundation may take
place in fishes and reptiles, as in plants, by simply sprinkling
the male element over the female ova, has originated the
PHYSIOLOGY.
684
Physiology modern practice of artificial impregnation. In the same
way that horticulturists can multiply varieties, and even
fertilize plants with pollen received from a distance; so, y
sprinkling the fluid from the milts of male fishes over the
innumerable ova which may be squeezed from the roe ot
the female, they may be fecundated, preserved, and rea
in artificial ponds. At this moment, many of the rivers an
lakes of France and Scotland are being stored with large
accessions of valuable fish so raised, in order to increase
the amount of food for the people.
For a long time it was supposed that the mere c
of the vibratile spermatozoids with the ova was all that was
sufficient to produce fecundation ; but it was first shown y
Martin Barry, and has been subsequently confirmed by
many other physiologists, that the spermatozoid actually
finds" its way into the ovum by a minute aperture, an
the male and female elements ultimately blend or melt mt
one another. This fact may now be considered to be well
established, and serves to explain many circumstances Ion
known as to the resemblances which exist in feature and i
qualities, mental and bodily, between parents and their ott-
spring. Thus, it has long been a matter of popular obsei-
vation, that the child in all that relates to the outward form,
the gait and manners, takes after the father; while as re¬
gards the size, internal qualities, and dispositions, the mother
predominates. Not, however, that the male is wholly with¬
out influence on the internal organs and vital functions
or the female wholly without influence on the externa
organs and locomotive powers of their offspring. m aw^
is&only general, although it holds very extensively among
cattle, as shown by Mr Orton and Dr Harvey. Such facts
seem in their turn to be accounted for by the circumstance,
that the spermatozoid enters and melts down in the exter¬
nal parts of the yolk of the egg,—that is, in connection with
those layers of the germinal membrane which, as we shall
subsequently see, form the nervous system and muscles;
whereas the glands and internal organs are formed from
the mucous layer, which is that part of the membrane
furthest removed from the action of the male element.
CHANGES IN THE OVUM WHICH FOLLOW FECUNDATION.
We have seen that ova are formed and discharged from
the ovary at regular intervals by the adult female, but that
it is only when the spermatozoid enters them that fecun¬
dation is produced. At that period the ovum presents the
characters of a nucleated cell;—the ovisac, or zona pel-
lucida, being the cell-wall; the germinal vesicle being the
nucleus ; while the fluid between them is opaque and granu¬
lar, and called the vitellus, or yolk. (See figs. 1 and 2.)
The size and relative amount of these three parts of each
ovum vary in different animals, but they are present in
all. There is also generally observed at one part of the
germinal vesicle a collection of granules, called the ger¬
minal spot. (See fig. 2, a.) If fecundation does not take
place, the ovum degenerates, breaks down, and is ulti¬
mately excreted in the mucous discharge from the external
passages. But if it encounter the spermatozoids, and one
penetrates it, then those changes commence which ter¬
minate in the formation of an embryo. These changes
have now been followed in numerous animals, and the
principal efforts of zoologists are at present directed to the
elucidation of the transformations which take place in living
beings; so that the whole subject is not only very extensive,
but is constantly acquiring new facts. The study of human
embryology is incomplete, for, although an ovum has been
twice discovered after death in the Fallopian tube of woman,
it has never been seen at that period when it enters the
uterus. In the dog, rabbit, sheep, and other mammals,
however, the various transformations have been very care¬
fully described; and, as it is certain that the same essen¬
tial mode of development occurs in them as in man, the Physiology
changes observed in the dog will be selected as a type
of what takes place in the impregnated ovum of the higher
When the ovum leaves the Graafian vesicle, there is
adherent to it externally a greater or less number of the
cells which form the granular membrane. On removing
these artificially, the ovum presents the appearance repre¬
sented in fig. 1, when magnified fifty diameters linear. It
is composed of a dark, opaque yolk, surrounded by the
zona pellucida, or vitelline membrane. On cracking this
ovum between two glasses, or on tearing it with a needle,
the granular yolk flows out, and the germinal vesicle escapes,
as in fig. 2, a. If such an ovum encounter spermatozoids,
the changes subsequently represented take place. One
jig. 1. Fig. 2. Fig. 3. Fig. 4.
enters the ovum, when both it and the germinal vesicle
are dissolved in the yolk,—a circumstance to which the
whole structure is indebted for its continuance and^ for its
power of, as well as direction in, development. We next
observe that the granular yolk begins to separate into two
parts a process which is accomplished by the spontaneous
aggregation of the molecules of which it is composed into
two masses instead of one (fig. 3). Each of these two sub¬
divide, producing four (fig. 4) ; each of these into other two
Fig. 5. Fig. 6. Fig. 7. Fig. 8.
(fig. 5) ; and so on, until at length the whole is reduced into
a mass of molecular corpuscles (fig. 7), having a clear space
or nucleus in their centres, and subsequently distinct cell-
walls (fig. 8). These next arrange themselves in a layer
externally, immediately lining the zona pellucida so as to
form a membrane, which is called the germinal membrane
(fig. 9). At one part of this it will be observed that the
EXPLANATION OP THE FIGURES.
The mode of development of the embryo is so difficult to
understand, that it has been thought right to illustrate this
part of the subject copiously by woodcuts, which will serve to
indicate better than mere description can do how the various
parts and organs successively come into view. They are
copied from the accurate plates of Bischoff illustrative of the
embryonal development of the dog, but diminished one-half.
Fig. 1.—An Ovum from the bitch freed from the granular
membrane, showing the dark internal yolk, and clear exter¬
nal zona pellucida. (Magnified 50 diameters.}
Fig. 2.—The same Ovum lacerated with a needle. . The yolk
has flowed out, showing the germinal vesicle a, with its ger¬
minal spot. (50 diam.) # .
Fig. 3.—The Ovum has encountered spermatozoids, which are
seen adherent externally to the zona pellucida. Fecunda¬
tion has taken place; the spermatozoid, which has pene¬
trated the transparent zone, together with the germinal ve¬
sicle, have been dissolved in the yolk, which is divided into
two masses. (50 diam.}
Fig. 4.—The Yolk divided into four masses. (50 diam.}
Figs. 5 and 6.—The process of division in the yolk further il¬
lustrated. (50 diam.}
Fig. 7-—The Yolk now reduced by division to a large number
of molecular cells. (50 diam.}
Fig. 8.—The Molecular Cells rendered visible by laceration of
the Ovum. They contain a clear space in their centres.
(50 diam.}
P H Y S I
Physiology
cells and
their granular contents are thicker, forming the
Fig- 9- Fig. 10.
germinal area, where the embryo first appears. The
ovum has now entered the uterus, and its appearance at
this period, magnified ten times, is represented in fig. 10.
By cutting or tearing out the portion of the germinal
membrane which contains the germinal area, and magni¬
fying it, the subsequent changes it undergoes can be well
studied, as in the following figures.
Fig. 12.
The germinal area now enlarges; at first round (fig. 11), it
becomes oval (fig. 12), and then appears in it a clear space,
the area pellucida. At the same time, the germinal mem¬
brane becomes thicker, and is now easily divisible into two
layers,—an upper or outer, called the serous or animal, and
an under or internal, called the mucous or vegetative layer.
The future changes in the embryo may be observed by
watching the behaviour of these two layers, and of another that
afterwards forms between them in the germinal area. In
the centre of the enlarged germinal area there now forms a
Fig. 13.
groove or channel, the primitive groove, by the elevation
on each side of the germinal membrane (fig. 13). This
Fig. 9.—An Ovum further developed after it has been placed
in water for a short time. In consequence of endosmose, the
internal membrane is separated from the zona pellucida,
and is. seen to be formed by the cells which have coalesced.
This is the germinal membrane, with the germinal area
composed of an extra layer of cells. (50 diam.)
Fig. 10.—-An Ovum, much larger, taken from the uterus, moist¬
ened with water. The germinal membrane is somewhat sepa¬
rated from the zona pellucida, and thrown into folds. (10
diam.)
Fig. 11.—Portion of the Germinal Membrane surrounding the
germinal area, cut out from a further developed ovum. A
clear space in the area, called area pellucida, is apparent.
(10 diam.) 11
Fig. 12; A similar piece from a somewhat older ovum. The
germinal area has become oval. (10 diam.)
Fig. 13. The Germinal Area is now greatly enlarged in the
germinal membrane, a. Germinal Membrane—b. Limit of
vascular Area—c. Area Pellucida—d. Laminae Dor sales—
e. Primitive Groove.—-f Profile of Germinal Area. (10 diam.)
O L O G Y.
enlarges anteriorly, and tapers to a point posteriorly (fig. 14),
and ultimately becomes closed by its sides, or laminae dor-
sales, passing over it and uniting, thus forming the founda¬
tion of the cerebro-spinal cavity, and inclosing the chorda
dorsalis, or embryo brain and spinal cord (figs. 16 and 18).
A linear mass of square-shaped cells forms on each side^
which is the commencing vertebral column (figs. Hand 16)’.
685
Physiology
The embryo is now raised prominently upwards above the
serous layer (fig. lo), and between it and the mucous layer
Fig. 16. pig. 17.
another mass of cells is formed which constitutes the third
or vascular layer. Here blood-vessels are developed as a
plexus (figs. 16 and 17), which unites itself with the em-
Fig. 14.'—Portion of Germinal Membrane, with the Embryo,
from an ovum twenty-four hours older than fig. 13. The
primitive groove is not yet closed, but is much stronger, espe¬
cially above. Here three swellings are observable, which
are the three primitive brain-cells. At the inferior end, the
groove is of a lancet shape (sinus rhomboidalis). In the
centre of the groove is a thin streak, the commencement of
the chorda dorsalis. Six square cells are formed on each
side, the commencement of the vertebral column. The ger¬
minal membrane is now composed distinctly of two layers, the
upper of which (the serous or animal layer) is cut close
round the embryo, showing more distinctly the lower (the
mucous or vegetative layer). (10 diam.)
Fig. 15.—The same Embryo, seen sideways, whereby the ele¬
vation of the dorsal laminne, and the groove between them, are
better seen. The head is already distinctly elevated above
the germinal membrane. (10 diam.)
Fig. 16.—An Embryo twelve hours older than the former one.
The primitive groove is now for the most part closed over.
The first brain-cell is widened out laterally, and bent for¬
wards. The posterior ones are altered in shape from ab¬
sorption of fluid. There are ten vertebral cells. At both
ends of the primitive groove folds of the serous layer are
visible—the commencement of the amnios. The serous layer
is cut close round the embryo ; and upon the mucous layer,
fine lines, in the form of a network, are visible—the com¬
mencement of the vascular layer. (10 diam.)
Fig. 17.—The same Embryo turned round and examined on
the under or abdominal surface. The head with the broad-
ened-out first brain-cell is seen coming forward. Immedi¬
ately below this an S-shaped tube is seen, which is the
686
Physiology
PHYSIOLOGY.
bryo heart and aorta (figs. 18 and 19), and a circulation is growth, gradually produce the various organs and textures Physiology
established, which extends over the entire ovum, with the of the body Three yeisicles or sacs are formed in con-  
nection with them,—the amnios with the serous, the allan-
exception of its two poles (fig. 20). The embryo now is
gradually raised above the surface of the germinal mem-
Fig. 20.
brane, while the duplications and re-duplications of its three
layers, which are constantly receiving thickness by cell
rudimentary heart. The lower end branches off on each
side to join the vascular network,forming the venae omphalo-
mesentericce. The visceral or abdominal cavity is seen open
below, causing the embryo to resemble somewhat the appear¬
ance of a partly-decked boat. (10 diam.)
Fig. 18.—An Embryo from an Ovum supposed to be twenty-
three or twenty-four days old, seen from above. The pri¬
mitive groove is now completely closed, to form the medul¬
lary tube, and exhibits above the three primitive brain-cells.
The first of these is seen to be so expanded laterally as to
form at each side the embryo eyes. The embryo ears are
also seen on each side opposite the third brain-cell. The
upper and lower ends of the embryo are now inclosed in a
backward fold of the serous layer, which, however, is still
open in the centre. The blood-vessels in the vascular layer
are now fully formed. (10 diam.)
Fig. 19.—The same Embryo seen from below. The head is
strongly bent forward, so that the first brain-cell and em¬
bryo eyes are best seen on this surface. Below these, two
notched processes are seen, which are the first visceral arches.
Below these again, the S-shaped heart—terminating, above in
the aorta, below in the venae omphalo-mesentericce. The
heart now pulsates, and a circulation is established over the
vascular area. (10 diam.)
Fig. 20.—An entire Ovum, with the Embryo somewhat older
than the last. The villous chorion is raised off the entire
centre of the egg, which is suspended by it at one point,
where the folds of the serous layer have completely closed
over the back to form the amnios. The embryo lies with
its inferior half in the plane of the vascular and mucous
layers; whilst the head and superior half is prominent, and
inclosed by them. At the sides are seen both the arterice
and vence omplialo-mezentericce, which communicate with the
plexus of the vascular layer, and terminate in circular
Fig. 21.
tois with the vascular, and the umbilical with the mucous
layer. The upper or serous layer of the germinal mem¬
brane may be observed from an early period to be reflected
backwards, and from before backwards, as well as laterally,
gradually to inclose the embryo above (figs. 16 and 18). At
length the layer closes, suspending the embryo as it were
from one point (fig. 20), which, when it gives way, leaves a
sac, which rises from the back of the embryo. This is
the amnios. From the lower portion of the abdominal
groove, and at the interior extremity of the embryo, a
swelling may now be observed (fig. 22, bb). This rapidly
Fig. 22. Fig. 23.
enlarges, and, at first open in the middle (fig. 23, a), coa¬
lesces to form another sac, which hangs out of the lower
portion of the abdominal opening. This is the allantois
rings, the vence terminates, leaving the two poles of the
ovum bare. (5 diam.)
Fig. 21.—The same Embryo, removed with its membranes, and
viewed from the internal surface of the ovum, sideways.
The head and upper portion is seen surrounded by the am¬
nios. In the head is observed the brain, divided into ante¬
rior, neighbouring, and middle brain, a, b, c; the third
brain-cell, d] eyes, e; ears,/; not yet connected with the
third brain-cell. There are three visceral arches. The
heart is further developed, prominent, and surrounded by
the serous membrane. The lower portion of the embryo
is covered with the vascular and mucous layers. (5 dia¬
meters.)
Fig. 22.—The Lower End of an Embryo some hours older than
that in the last figure. The mucous and vascular layers are
drawn upwards, so that not only is the visceral cavity seen,
but the lower portion of the intestinal canal, a. At the
lower portion of the embryo are two small swellings, b, b,
the commencement of the allantois. (10 diam.)
Fig. 23.—The Lower End of an Embryo twelve hours older
than the last. The allantois now forms a sac, the two
halves of which, however, are not yet closed. (10 dia¬
meters.)
PHYSIOLOGY.
Philology (fig. 24). About the same time the inferior layer of the bodies, which are afterwards a-
germinal membrane, more or less constricted when it comes urinary organs (fig, 27,Tt4,Th;tfei„ra„tcog^r
4 l ~ “on f71116 ""““s >ayet to produce the alimentary canal
( g- 27, m). And, finally, the enlargement of the various
Fig. 24.
out of the abdomen of the embryo, forms a third sac or
vesicle, called the umbilical sac. The mode of formation
and relation of these three sacs will be better understood
from the accompanying diagram (fig. 25).
Fig. 25.
The various parts of the body are now rapidly perfected,
to the principal of which we may shortly allude,—1^,
I he chorda dorsalis, inclosed by the dorsal lamince, which
forms the cranio-vertebral canal, are developed below
into spinal cord and vertebrae, while superiorly are pro¬
duced the cerebrum, cerebellum, and cranium (fig. 21,
b, c, d; and fig. 24). 2d, The bent tube, which originally
formed the heart, is by a kind of notch first separated into
heart and aorta; and the former, by the growth of in¬
ternal septa, divided into ventricles and au¬
ricles. 3d, The formation of branches from
the aorta, which go to the branchial arches
or clefts (fig. 26). Ath, The union of these
branchial arches to form the bones of the
face and jaws ; the development of the special
senses; and the formation, first, of the upper
extremities (fig. 24), and, secondly, of the
lower (fig. 27). 5M, The appearance of four Fig. 26.
striated organs deep in the visceral cavity, called Wolffian
Fl3- 24.—The Embryo of an Ovum twelve hours older than the
last, suspended by the vascular and mucous layers. All the
different parts formerly referred to may be seen further
developed. The superior extremity is prominent. In
the visceral cavity two long striated bodies are seen, the
noljfian bodies; and the allantois is now so enlarged as to
nang out of the visceral cavity, covered with a network of
vessels in connection with the vascular layer. (5 diam.)
jitg. 25.' Diagram representing the mode of formation and
position of the three Embryonal Sacs. a. Embryo—b. Am-
nc°rC|TU^.ilical Vesicle—rf. the Vitelline Duct, or Pedicle
of tne Lmbilical Vesicle—e. Allantois—/. The Urachus or
Pedide of the Allantois, afterwards the Urinary Bladder.
^ . D/ad of the same Embryo represented in fiar
~4 seen m front, a. Anterior Brain-Cells—b. Eyes—
c Second Bram-Cen-^. First Visceral Arch - e. Process
thereof / Three Lower Visceral Arches—^. Eight, and h,
Left Auricle i. Left, and h. Right Ventricle-L Aorta
With aortic branches to the visceral arches. (10 diam.)
Fig. 27.
glands and internal viscera, and the greater perfection of all
the parts referred to (fig. 28); while the abdominal open-
Fig. 28.
ing, closing in front, leaves only a small aperture, through
which the united pedicles of the allantoid and umbilical
sacs pass to constitute the umbilical cord. To describe
each of these processes at length, or the variation which
las been shown to exist in them, among the leading
tribes of animals, would lead us too far. It will suffice to
say, that from the serous layer is principally formed the
nervous centres and the organs of sense ; from the vascular
ayer for the most part is produced the voluntary and non-
vo untary muscles, the bones, and the blood-vessels; and
from the mucous layer, the mucous surfaces and chief por¬
tion of the glands.
Besides the changes which occur within the ovum, and
Fi9i 27.—An Embryo older than the last, seen in front, a.
rvasal Apertures—b. Eyes—c. First Visceral Arch, now the
Under Jaw<—d. Second Visceral Arch —e. Right, and f.
Left Auricle' g. Right, and h. Left Ventricle—i. Aorta—
/c. Liver; between its two lobes is seen the cut Vena Om-
phalo-Mesenterica—l. Stomach—m. Intestinal Canal ter¬
minating in the Umbilical Vesicle—n, o. Wolffian Bodies—
V' Allantois g. Upper, and r. Under Extremity. (5 diam.)
1 ig. 2/—Embryo of an egg about four weeks old. a. Trachea
and (Esophagus b. Thymus Gland—c. Right, and d. Left
Auricle e. Right, and /. Left Ventricle—0. Left, and h
Right Aorta—?., i, i. Three Lobes of the Liver—it. Stomach
~L Intestinal Coils, which by a band m (the former Ductus
Omphalo-Mesentencus), are in connection with the umbilical
vesicle n—o. Wolffian Bodies. (5. diam.)
687
Physiology
688
Physiology
II Y S I O L O G Y.
which result in the formation of the embryo, there aie
others which seem external to it, and which are indirectly
very necessary to its formation. As the impregnated ovum
descends the Fallopian tube towards the uterus, it becomes
covered with an albuminous layer, called the chorion ; and
on passing into that organ, encounters another which lines
it, called the decidua. When the allantoid sac becomes
developed, it sends vessels into a portion of these mem¬
branes to form the placenta, the relations of which to the
various sinuses of the uterus are of a kind that enable the
mother to furnish blood to the foetus by transudation of its
fluid substance through a double membrane. I he uterus
also becomes greatly enlarged and thickened ; numerous
non-voluntary contractile fusiform cells are formed in it,
and at length, the foetus having arrived at maturity, these
commence to contract, and, by a series of expulsive efforts,
finally expel the infant. The mammary glands also gradu¬
ally enlarge, so that about the period of birth they are
fitted to furnish a copious supply of milk, under the stimu¬
lating action of suction, to which the infant is instinctively
impelled for the sake of nourishment.
Such is a general sketch of the various stages of the
function of reproduction, a study of which in the different
classes of animals has led to the formation of various in¬
genious hypotheses, whereby it has been sought to bring
the order of evolution within the operation of certain laws.
One of these, which has excited great attention, is, that the
human foetus passes through transition periods resembling
in turn the different inferior beings of the animal scale :
that is to say, it at first resembles a zoophyte, then a mol¬
lusc, then a worm, a fish, a reptile, and so on. Thus the
monads found among the inferior animals have been sup¬
posed to be represented by the germinal vesicle. The yolk,
when divided, has been thought to resemble a gonium or
a volvox. When the primitive groove closes, it has been
likened to a worm; afterwards to a molluscous animal; and
when the visceral arches appear, to a fish ; and so on. This
method of viewing the phases of development has led to a
generalization thus expressed by Serres,—viz., that “ Hu¬
man organogenesis is a transitory comparative anatomy, as
in its turn comparative anatomy is a fixed and permanent
state of the organogenesis of man.” But that the human
embryo ever resembles a worm, a mollusc, reptile, fish, or
bird, can on careful examination nowhere be recognised.
It is true, that at one period all ova resemble each other ;
but it is equally certain that from the first moment of their
formation they are impressed with a power of developing
themselves only in one direction, so that the ovum of a
reptile, fish, dr bird will always be developed into similar
animals, and by no concurrence of circumstances will ever
be transformed into different ones. Neither is there any
anatomical or structural relation between them, for the
visceral arches in the human foetus are in no way, as has
been supposed, analogous with the branchiae or lungs of
the fish, for the former are transformed into the bones of
the face, while the lungs originate in inflexions of the
mucous layer. The theory, then, may be considered as
more fanciful than real, and founded upon loose analogies,
which, instead of being strengthened, are weakened as
development proceeds, and the true types of such analogies
become more evident.
In recent times another theory has been brought for¬
ward, denominated alternate generation by Steenstrup, but
more correctly parthenogenesis by Owen. Many of the
facts described by the former refer not so much to an
alternate as to a continuous development. Thus, many
insects spend part of their lives as a worm, and part as a
moth. The moth produces the worm, and the worm pro¬
duces the moth ; but this is not an alternate, but a different
phase of the same generation. So a correct knowledge
of the development of the Medusa aurita has shown that physiology
what naturalists had considered to be four distinct animals
are in fact only different stages in the development of one
animal. The formation of the Aphis is especially alluded
to by Steenstrup, several of which insects are produced
from*the mother, and each of which may produce others,
although it is only certain of them which become trans¬
formed into a fly. But the generation of a plant may be
called alternate in the same sense as it is used in the case
of the Medusa or the Aphis, inasmuch as the seed produces
a leaf and a root, which proceeds to develop other leaves
before it finally produces the flowers with the seed like
that from which the plant originated. The term partheno¬
genesis (mpOevda, virginity), as expressive of the power
of reproduction in various forms without the act of fecun¬
dation, is therefore the more correct one.
This doctrine has now led to many important results,
among which the discovery of the origin and mode of re¬
production of tape-worms, and the manner in which the
three kinds of bees are produced, are good examples. It
is now known that certain Entozoa are partly developed in
one animal and partly in another. Thus, the minute eggs
of certain Tcenise, or tape-worms, enter the body of the
mouse, and are converted into cystic worms, which have
been considered as distinct creatures. In this stage they
would remain in that animal; but the mouse being eaten
by the cat, the cystic worm of the former is converted into
a tape-worm in the body of the latter. In the same way,
the Cysticercus pisiformis, found in hares and rabbits, is
converted into the Toenia pisiformis, so common in the fox,
which feeds on those animals; and the C. celluloses, so fre¬
quent in the flesh of pork and of mutton, is transformed into
the Toenia Solium of man. Thus the mystery as to the ori¬
gin of tape-worm has been cleared up ; and the practical re¬
sult, that if we desire to cure the disease, besides giving an¬
thelmintics and purgatives, we must also prevent the eating
of flesh underdone, or game and fish out of season, when it
is likely to be infected with Cysticerci. So, among bees it
has been shown by Dzierzon and Siebold that the queen-
bee, during her nuptial flight, receives the semen of the
male into a receptacle communicating with the oviducts,
but from which it can be shut off at will. The workers
having prepared three kinds of cells,—namely, drone-cells,
worker-cells, and royal-cells, each of which has its own
peculiar form and size,—the queen deposits an egg in each.
In doing this, she takes care to bring every one of those
destined for the royal and the worker cells into contact
with the seminal fluid, but takes equal care to keep free
from such contact every one of those destined for the
drone-cells. It has also been shown that a worker-bee can
be transformed into a queen by feeding it on a peculiar
kind of food. It follows that male animals in insects may
be produced independent of the union ol the ova with
spermatozoids, in the same way that buds are thrown out
in trees, or polype heads formed without fecundation. I he
queen-bee in this respect is like a tree, uniting two kinds
of development, oviparous and gemmiparous. Her ovary
resembles a gemmarium, the products of which she fertilizes
at will, by shedding on the ovum the semen stored up in
her receptacle.
The modern researches into reproduction, therefore, in¬
dicate that the tribes of animals hitherto described by na¬
turalists are not so numerous as was once thought, and
that many of them are only the metamorphic changes of
one creature. They show that animals as well as plants
can propagate in two ways—by buds and by germs ; the
individual developed from the bud being capable of pro¬
ducing an ovum from which another individual may spring
that may produce a bud. Thus much of the mystery that
has shrouded the origin of many animals has been dissipated,
and the arguments by which it has been sought to esta-
PH YSI
Physiology blish a spontaneous or equivocal generation overthrown.
They also confirm the instinctive convictions, so long esta¬
blished among the human race, which point to the male as
being not merely the head and proper representative of the
species, but the real reproducer of it also. The man being
the head of the woman ; she merging in him, and having no
right apart from him ; their joint offspring, not hers, but
0 L O G Y.
689
truly his ; born indeed of her, but begotten bv him. Hen™ pk • r
the truth of the long-confirmed notion of descent in the
male line, which, coupled with the instinct of power has
given rise to the law of primogeniture. Science, iuris’pru-
dence, and religion, therefore, unite in proving that the wife
is part of the husband ; the two being, in the language of
Scripture, “ no more twain, but one flesh.” (A. Harvey.)
PART III.—PATHOLOGICAL PHYSIOLOGY.
Every animated being has a limited period of existence,
during which it is constantly undergoing a change. So
long, however, as this change takes place uniformly in the
different parts of which it is composed, its physiological or
healthy condition is preserved. But immediately the ac¬
tion of one orgarf becomes excessive or weak in proportion
to the others, disease, or a pathological state, is occasioned.
1 his state may be induced by direct mechanical violence,
but may also occur from the continued or irregular influ¬
ence of several physical agents, such as temperature, mois¬
ture or dryness, quality of the atmosphere, kind of food,
&c., &c. These are always acting upon the vital powers of
the individual as a whole, as well as incessantly stimulating
the various organs to perform their functions. We have
previously seen that life may be defined in the words of
Bedard—“ Organization in action.” Health is the regular
or normal, and disease the disturbed or abnormal condi¬
tion of that action.
While such may be assumed to be our notion of disease
in the abstract, what constitutes disease in particular has
been much disputed. From the time of Hippocrates to
that of Cullen and his followers, the external manifestation
or symptoms constituted the only method of recognising
diseased action, and gradually came to be regarded as the
disease itself. Then these symptoms were arranged into
groups, divided, subdivided, and named, according to the
predominance of one or more of them, or the mode in which
they presented themselves. These artificial arrangements
are the nosologies of former writers. All philosophical
physicians, however, have recognised that the true end of
medical inquiry is, if possible, to determine rather the altered
condition of the organs which produces the disordered
function, than to be contented with the study of the effects
they occasion. But the difficulty of this inquiry has been
so great, and a knowledge of the means of prosecuting it so
limited, that it is only within the last thirty years medicine
has been enabled to build up for herself anything like a solid
scientific foundation. What has hitherto been accom¬
plished in this way has been brought about by the con¬
joined cultivation of morbid anatomy, pathology, and clini¬
cal observation, greatly assisted, however, by the advance
of numerous collateral branches of science, and especially
in recent times by chemical and histological investigation.
The result has been a complete overthrow of nosological
systems, and an attempt to trace all maladies to their or¬
ganic cause; and doubtless in proportion as this has been
successfully accomplished, medicine has become less em¬
pirical and more exact. The organic changes, however,
which produce or accompany many diseases have not yet
been discovered, and consequently a classification of all
maladies on this basis cannot be strictly carried out. The
organic cause of epilepsy, hydrophobia, and of many fevers,
or example, is as yet unknown. When, therefore, the
moibid change in an organ is unequivocally the origin of
the symptoms, we employ the name of the lesion to desig¬
nate the disease ; but when there is disturbance of function,
without any obvious lesion of a part, we still make use of
11e principal derangement to characterize the malady.
lus, as regards the stomach, we say a cancer or an ulcer of
t lat viscus, and thereby express all the phenomena occa-
YOL. XVII.
sioned. But if we are unable to detect such cancer or
ulcer, we denominate the affection after its leading svmn-
tom,—dyspepsia, or difficulty of digestion.
In endeavouring to carry out this distinction, however
modern pathologists have fkllen into a great error, inasmuch
as they have continued to employ the nomenclature of our
forefathers, and use words which were simply expressive of
the presence of symptoms to indicate the altered condition
of organs, the cause of those symptoms. Formerly inflam¬
mation meant the existence of pain, heat, redness, and
swelling ; it now means certain changes in the nervous, vas¬
cular, and parenchymatous tissues of a part. Formerly
apoplexy meant sudden unconsciousness originating in the
brain ; now it is frequently used to express haemorrhage into
an organ ; and hence the terms apoplexy of the lung and of
the spinal cord. 1 he two ideas are essentially distinct and
bear no reference to each other, because the same word
may be, and often is, employed under circumstances where
its original meaning is altogether inapplicable, and even
when the symptoms it was intended to express are alto¬
gether absent. Hence it is incumbent on every one who
gives to organic changes terms which have been long em¬
ployed in medicine, to define exactly what he means by
them. In this way, old indefinite expressions, though still re¬
tained, will have a more precise meaning attached to them.
But notwithstanding the confusion which has necessarily re¬
sulted from the rapid advance of medicine in late years, and
fiom the fiequent change of ideas with regard to the nature
of morbid actions, it still is correct to say that disease is
only an alteration in the healthy function of organs. Hence
all scientific classification of maladies must be founded on
physiology, which teaches us the laws that regulate those
functions; and they may be divided, like the functions them¬
selves, into Diseases of Nutrition; 2,d, Diseases of
Innervation ; and Zd, Diseases of Reproduction.
DISEASES OF NUTRITION.
The various modes in which nutrition becomes impaired
can only be understood by knowing the different steps of
the nutritive process. For ages medical men have been in
the habit of considering the blood to be the primary source
of numerous maladies. But our previous description of
the process of nutrition must show that the changes in this
fluid, and the diseases which accompany them, are for the
most part not primary, but secondary; that is to say, they
are dependent on previously existing circumstances, to the
removal of which the medical practitioner must look for
the means of curing his patient. This will become appa¬
rent, not so much by analysing the individual disorders
to which the various organs and tissues of the body are
liable, as by describing the fundamental pathological pro¬
cesses which are common to all parts of the frame. An
enumeration and definition of these appear necessary in
the first place.
Classification of Diseases of Nutrition.
Congestion, or Excess of Blood in a Part.—This is an
over-distension of the blood-vessels, but more especially of
the capillaries, with blood. It may be caused by excite-
4 s
t
PHYSIOLOGY.
690
Physiology ment of the nervous system, by mechanical impediments
which obstruct the return of venous blood, or by irritation
of the textures. However produced, congestion may be
temporary, and disappear without producing much dis¬
turbance, or, if long continued, it may give rise to one or
more of the following conditions :—
Fever.—When congestion is caused or accompanied by
general excitement of the nervous system, it produces
fever, a morbid condition characterized by hot skin, ac¬
celerated pulse, furred tongue, thirst, and headache, ^phe¬
nomena usually preceded by a sensation of cold, or rigor.
If caused by some poison introduced through the blood,
it is called 'primary, the principal forms being intermit¬
tent, remittent, and continued. If produced by injuries
to texture, either directly from violence, or indirectly
from reflex action causing internal inflammations, it is
denominated secondary or symptomatic.
Dropsy, or Effusion of Serum.—When congestion is
passive, or caused by mechanical obstruction to the flow
of blood through the veins, serum transudes through the
walls of the capillary vessels, and collects in various
places, causing dropsy. If generally diffused, especially
through the subcutaneous tissue, it is called anasarca; if
limited to the peritoneal cavity, ascites; if local, oscfewia.
Hemorrhage, or Extravasation of Blood.— I his may
arise from direct injury to a blood-vessel, from a wound,
or from disease of its coats. Under such circumstances
it may be arterial or venous, the former distinguished
by the blood being of a bright florid, and the latter by
its being of claret colour. The capillaries are frequently
ruptured from over-distension with blood, which is capil¬
lary or congestive haemorrhage, causing dropsical effusions
or inflammatory exudations to assume a sangumolent
ch 9,t*{ict0r*
Inflammation, or Exudation of Liquor Sanguinis.—
When congestion is active, or arises from irritation of the
textures, it may, if excessive, terminate in the exudation
through its coats of the liquor sanguinis. This is in¬
flammation ; an expression still used very vague y y
some pathologists, but which, thus defined, sepai ates the
morbid state accurately from congestion or fever on the
one hand, and from dropsy, or the processes of growth, on
the other. The exudation thrown out undergoes a variety
of changes, producing various morbid conditions, accord¬
ing as it lives or dies.
Simple or Inflammatory Exudation consists of the nor¬
mal liquor sanguinis, which infiltrates the neighbouiing
tissues or collects in serous cavities. It then coagulates, and
may undergo the following vital transformations: ls£, Into
cells and fibres, forming adhesive lymph, as on the surface
of serous membranes; 2<i, Into pus-cells, constituting
suppuration, as in mucous surfaces or in areolar texture ;
3c?, Into granule-cells, forming inflammatory softening ;
and Ath, Into various elementary tissues, such as the
fibrous, vascular, cartilaginous, bony, &c. In this manner,
the exudation may be (1.) absorbed, or undergo resolu¬
tion ; (2.) evacuated externally by discharge; or (3.)
assimilated to the body. It is the agent which forms
abscesses, causes the healing of wounds, and the union
of divided tendons, bones, &c.
Tubercle, or Tubercular Exudation.—When an ex¬
udation, instead of undergoing the vital changes just re¬
ferred to, assumes a yellow or grayish aspect and cheesy
consistence, it is called tubercle. It consists of solid
irregularly-formed bodies, called tubercle corpuscles,
more or less associated with molecules and granules.
If disseminated in small grains, it is called miliary ; if
in considerable patches or masses, it is infiltrated tubercle.
When chronic, it may be encysted, or present the form
of cretaceous or calcareous masses.
Cancer, or Cancerous Exudation.—When an exuda¬
tion, instead of undergoing the vital transformations pre- Physiology
viously described, passes into cells and fibres, the former W
increasing endogenously, it is called cancer. It haid,
and principally formed of fibres from associated morbid
growth, it is called scirrhus ; if soft, often yielding a
milky juice on pressure, it is encephaloma ; if having a
fibrous basis, this is so arranged as to form areolae or
loculi, containing a gelatinous gum or glue-like matter ;
then it is called colloid cancer.
Mortification, or Moist Gangrene.—When the exuda¬
tion is poured out rapidly in such quantity as to paralyse
the nerves, obstruct the blood-vessels, and prevent the
return of circulation in them, it dies, and undergoes
chemical putrefactive changes, and is said to be mortified,
or to be affected with moist gangrene. It differs from
dry gangrene, which is slow death of pre-existing texture
from want of nourishment. Sometimes it is epidemic,
from external or unknown causes, resembling the blight
which affects vegetables.
Ulceration.—When an exudation does not pass into the
vital transformations formerly described, but presses upon
the surrounding parts, obstructing the flow of blood in
them, death of such parts takes place. Under these cir¬
cumstances, the whole slowly disintegrates; loss of texture
is occasioned, with breach of continuity; and an ulcer is
formed. Ulceration may also be produced by the direct
pressure of a foreign body, continued weight of depend¬
ing parts, &c.
Morbid Growths of Texture.—Increased growth of
tissues may assume various forms: the organ or struc¬
ture may be enlarged in whole or in part, still maintain¬
ing more or less of its original texture, shape, and func¬
tion—constituting hypertrophy. Membranes may be¬
come preternaturally thickened, causing more or less
induration, whereby the movements of parts may be
affected; or the calibres of tubes and ducts may be dimi¬
nished, producing stricture. The vital transformations
of an exudation into pus, granule, or other cells, must be
regarded as a form of morbid growth, as must the results of
the healing process, which give rise to new tissues exactly
resembling those previously existing in other parts of the
body,—as in cicatrices, callus, &c. Lastly, such growths
may assume the form of tumour. Morbid growths may
be classified into—U?, Fibroma, or fibrous growths; 2d,
Lipoma, or fatty growths; Angionoma, or vascular
growths; 4?A, Cystoma, or cystic growths ; bih, Adenoma,
or glandular growths; Qth, Epithelioma, or epithelial
growths; 1th, Echondroma, or cartilaginous growths;
^>th, Osteoma, or osseous growths ; and Qth, Carcinoma,
or cancerous growths.
Morbid Degenerations of Textures.—This also may
assume various forms. I he organ or structure may be
diminished in whole or in part, constituting atrophy, still,
however, retaining its normal shape and function; or
the structure of the parts themselves may have under¬
gone alterations, whereby their functions are impaired or
destroyed. Such degenerations are of four kinds: Is?,
They may, in a variety of ways, become indurated and
shrivelled up, or converted into a waxy or glue-like
material, apparently from an excess of one or inore of
the albuminous or gelatinous compounds. This is albu¬
minous degeneration. 2d, They become softer, from an
accumulation of fatty granules, either within cells or
among the minute elements of the texture. This in fatty
degeneration. 3d, In the same manner, pigment of va¬
rious kinds is deposited in or replaces the tissue, which
may be red, yellow, brown, green, blue, purple, or black,
owing to chemical changes ascribable to extravasated
blood or bile, or to some peculiar secretion. This is
pigmentary degeneration. Lastly, the tissues may be¬
come infiltrated with mineral matter of various kinds,
1
Physiology
kjjf generally with salts of lime in solution, which sub-
sequently becoming solidified, impede or destroy func-
• ouch is mineral degeneration.
C°nmdET?NS'~7TheS? are non-orSanized and non-vascular
Z° “2°nS’ frmed by, tl,e mech“i“' deposition and
ggregation of various kinds of matter, generally in the
ducts or cavities of the hollow viscem* They may be
suKcl°hf Umin°US' Stly’ or m^erai
their n ’ iU- are separable from degenerations from
their never being formed out of an organic structure.
Vrinary concretions, or calculi, are composed of the salts
which are too predominant in the urine, and which have
been prempuated d a central body or nucleuSj
within or introduced from without. Intestinal concre-
whi!?hT Tally COI"Posed of hair or vegetable fibres,
which have been swallowed and accumulated also round
a central nucleus.
PHYSIOLOGY.
691
, , cot, isunvi cnuns, composea ot
rbonates and phosphates of lime, are common in the
mucous passages of various organs, especially the sali-
ary, bionchial, pancreatic, hepatic, and renal. Thev
nZ °CCUr1Iin 5he veins’ when they are called phlebolites.
OccasionaUy they resemble starch grains, and are called
amyloid; and not unfrequently concretions are found
really composed of aggregated or isolated starch cor-
puscles, which may be called amylaceous.
FARAsmc GROWTHS—These are of two kinds, vegetable
iv arf T,he VegetabIe Parasitic growths may be
divided into such as grow on the surface {Epiphyte!), or
those that have been formed in the interior of the body,
chiefly on the mucous surfaces {Entophyta). The animal
parasites may also be divided into such as infest the sur-
and such as are found in the interior of
the body {Entozoa). To the former belong the several
species ofPedicidus, or louse; the AcarusScabiei, or itch-
insect ; the hntozoon folliculorum, which inhabits the fol-
icles of the skin ; and the Pulex penetrans, or guinea-
worm. 1 he Entozoa are numerous, and may be divided
into—1^, Cystica, or saccular worms; 2d, Cestoidea,ov
cham-worms; 3c?, Trematoda, or flat worms; and Ath
JMematoda, or thread-worms.
Such is an enumeration and definition of the organic
diseases of textures and organs. What are called func-
tional disorders of the same parts are such as leave no traces
of their existence after death, and are for the most part
smple excess or diminution of normal actions. It is only
when these last lead to congestions and exudations, termi¬
nating in fever or vital transformations, and chemical changes
producing degenerations, that a true structural lesion can
be said to exist. The causes of these organic alterations
The first step in the process,—viz., narrowing of
capillaries-is readily demonstrated on the appliLion of
acetic acid to the web of the frog’s foot. If the acid bp
Wea,k’ *he cTaPi.llajy contraction occurs more slowly and
graduaflv. If it be very concentrated, the phenomenon is
ot observed or it passes so quickly into complete stoppage
of blood as to be imperceptible. Although we cannot sfe
these changes in man under the microscope, certain ap¬
pearances indicate that the same phenomena occur. The
operations of the mind for instance, as fear and fright, and
the application of cold, produce paleness of the skin; an
effect which can only arise from contraction of the capil-
anes, and a diminution of the quantity of blood they con¬
tain. In the majority of instances, also, this paleness is
succeeded by increased redness, the same result as follows
from direct experiment on the web of the frog’s foot con-
Stl til finer thp acpnnrl afow   t b . 5
Mineral concretions, composed of °f ,he f™«’s M
phates of lime, are common in P™ceSS. In other cases,
of texture are to be sought-ls<, In increased ordimT TSme thehl '“ifl6 f'0Wi"g Witl,’ increafd vel°<%- After
nished stimulation acting directly on the tissues them- ever ^ H"? ™.d .“T s,lowly> '"thout’ V”'-
nished stimulation acting directly on the tissues them¬
selves ; wrf, In increased or diminished excitability of the
nervous system operating upon them indirectly ; 3rf, In an
altered condition of the blood; and 4M, In chemical trans¬
formations of texture. These may act separately or com¬
bined, and one may occasion the other. We shall treat of
these causes under the following heads:—
Theory of Active Congestion.
, L . i . xii outer cases,
the redness may arise primarily from certain mental emo¬
tions, or from the application of heat. In either case it
depends on the enlargement of the capillaries, and the
greater quantity of blood they contain.
It has been asserted that, instead of contraction of the ca¬
pillaries, the first changes observable are enlargement, with
an increased flow of blood. To determine positively the
question of contraction or dilatation, Professor Bennett has
made a series of careful observations on the web of a fro°-’s
oot. Having fixed the animal in such a way that it could
not move, he carefully measured with Oberheuser’s eye
micrometer the diameter of various vessels before, during
and after the application of stimuli. The results were, that
immediately hot water was applied, a vessel that measured
thirteen spaces of the eye micrometer contracted to 10;
another that measured 10 contracted to 7; a third that
measured 7 contracted to 5 ; a fourth, which was a capil¬
lary carrying blood globules in single file, and measured 5
was contracted to 4 ; and another, one of the smallest size,’
which measured 4, was contracted to 3. With regard to
the ultimate capillaries, it was frequently observed that if
filled with corpuscles, they contracted little, but if empty
the contraction took place from 4 to 2; so that no more
corpuscles entered them, and they appeared obliterated.
I his was especially seen after the addition of acetic acid
It was also observed that minute vessels that contracted
from 4 to 3 afterwards became dilated to 6 before conges¬
tion and stagnation occurred. The smaller veins were
seeii to contract as much as the arteries of the same size.
1 he variation in the size of, and amount of blood in, the
capdlanes is conjoined with changes in the movement of
tiiat fluid. Whilst the vessels are contracted the blood
may be seen to be flowing with increased velocity. After
-   .xiwic Ojuwiy, vvHIlOUl. now-
ever, the vessel being obstructed: it then oscillates,—that
is, moves forwards and backwards, or makes a pause, evi¬
dently synchronous with the ventricular diastole of the
heart. At length the vessel appears quite distended with
coloured corpuscles, and all movement ceases.
Again, these changes in the movement of the blood in¬
duce variations in the relation which the blood corpuscles
bear to each other, and to the wall of the vessel In the
natural circulation of the frog’s foot, the yellow corpuscles
may be seen rolling forward in the centre of the tube,
whilst on each side a clear space is left, only filled with
liquor sanguinis and a few lymph corpuscles. There are
We •rri,a,e ,he ,web of a fr°8’s foot’il ’"“y be seen
narrowed^and thauh^bloodflowsdlrourfi thenndth8^8 7 lir™ “ few lymph corpusdeT' Th^re'ale
raniditv U1UUU n°ws tnrough them with greater evidently two currents, the centre one vnrv re.r.irl t
*br tymph spS;
blood becomes irregular. 4M All motion of the hlnnit g n .* f e co cured corpuscles are hurried forward in
and the vessel appears fully distended hth and lastly The These ^ mixed with some lymph corpuscles.
“t; “ - “*.f -j-s-
c
692
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology when they start off with great velocity, and accompany of contractility analogous to that existing in non-voluntary Physiology
J , ,1 J i tl i  fViof rnr-
muscles. John Hunter thought they were muscular, from
the results of his observations and experiments ; and they
may be shown by the histologist to consist of a delicate
membrane in which permanent nuclei are imbedded. In
part of theVbrioodeandTn no wayTmpedr*e circnhtion; structure, then, they closely resemble the muscular fibres
In old froos „„ the other hand, all these, and subsequent of the intestine, and we know that, like them they may
chan >es may be observed, without the presence of colour- be contracted or dilated by emotions of the m.nd-that is,
less cor’puscL When [he capillaries enlarge, however, through the nerves; or by local apphcations-that is, di-
the cenLi coloured column in the smaller vessels may be rectly. The narrowing of hese tubes, therefore, may be
LL to enlarge also, and
f»«ows such spasm or to muscular paralysis The recent
atTength the coloured corpuscles come in contact with the observations of Cl. Bernard and others as to the effects
the yellow corpuscles. It has been saia that these cor
puscles augment in number, accumulate in the lymph
spaces, and obstruct the flow of blood. In young frogs their
number is very great; but then they constitute a normal
sides of the vessel, and are more or less compressed and
changed in form. At length the vessel is completely
distended with coloured corpuscles, the original formot which
can no longer be discovered, and the tube appears to be
filled with a homogeneous deep crimson fluid. This is
congestion. Such a congestion may be temporary. it is
An exa'i copy of a portion of the Web in the Foot of a Young Frog after a
drop of strong alcohol had been placed upon it.
The view exhibits a deep-seated artery and vein, somewhat out of focus ;
the intermediate or capillary plexus running over them, and pigment cells
of various sizes scattered over the whole. At the top of the figure the cir¬
culation is still active and natural. About the middle it is more slow, the
column of blood is oscillating, and the corpuscles crowded together. At the
bottom, congestion, followed by exudation, has taken place.—a. A deep-
seated Vein, partially out of focus. The current of blood is of a deeper colour,
and not so rapid as that in the artery. It is running in the opposite direc¬
tion. The lymph space on each side, filled with slightly yellowish blood
plasma, is very apparent, containing a number of colourless corpuscles,
clinging to or slowly moving along the sides of the vessel.—6. A deep-seated
Artery, out of focus, the rapid current of blood allowing nothing to be
perceived but a reddish-yellow broad streak, with lighter spaces at the
sides.—Opposite e, laceration of a capillary vessel has produced an extra¬
vasation of blood, which resembled a brownish-red spot.—At d, congestion
has occurred, and the blood corpuscles are apparently merged into one
semi-transparent, reddish mass, entirely filling the vessels. The spaces of
the web, between the capillaries, are rendered thicker and less transpa¬
rent, partly by the action of the alcohol, partly by the exudation. This
latter entirely fills up the spaces, or only coats the vessel. (200 diam.)
only when, as we have seen, it leads to effusion, extravasa¬
tion, or exudation, that true organic lesion is apparent. The
different changes leading to congestion may be explained
as follows:—
1. The contraction and dilatation of the capillaries are
explicable by supposing them to be endowed with a power
produced by dividing the large nervous trunk of the sympa¬
thetic in the neck have singularly confirmed this theory,
and shown how the modification of nutrition which charac¬
terizes fevers is probably owing to a morbid condition of the
ganglionic nervous system.
2. The rapid and slow movement of the blood is expli¬
cable on the hydraulic principle, that when a certain quantity
of fluid is driven forward with a certain force through a
pervious tube, and the tube is narrowed or widened, while
the propelling force remains the same, the fluid must ne¬
cessarily flow quicker in the first case and slower in the
second, It has been supposed, from the throbbing of large
vessels leading to congested parts, that they pump a larger
quantity of blood than usual into them. This was called
“ determination of blood” by the older pathologists, and is
now known not to be a cause, but a result, of the changes
going on in the capillary vessels and tissues of the affected
part. The oscillatory movement, seen later in the trans¬
parent parts of small animals, has not been observed in
man, and probably depends, in the former, on a weakened
power of the heart.
3. It is the stoppage of the blood, and exudation of the
liquor sanguinis, however, which it is most difficult to ex¬
plain ; for why, so long as there is no mechanical obstruc¬
tion (and during this process none has ever been seen),
should the circulation through the capillaries of a part
cease? It has been endeavoured, indeed, of late years,
to establish a mechanical obstruction, by supposing the
formation of colourless corpuscles in large numbers, which
cling to the sides of the capillaries, and so cause interrup¬
tion of the stream. But this hypothesis is negatived by the
following facts:—In young frogs the vessels may be seen
to be crowded with colourless corpuscles, while the circula¬
tion is in no way affected. 2e7, In old frogs, oscillation and
gradual stoppage of the stream may be seen, without any
colourless corpuscles being present. 3<i, I he colourless
corpuscles, as shown by Remak, are increased, after large
venesections, in the horse, without ever causing active con¬
gestion. And \th, In leucocythemia, or white cell-blood, all
the vessels are crowded with colourless corpuscles, and yet
no active congestion in these vessels, nor exudation of and
kind, has been occasioned.
We cannot ascribe the stoppage of the circulation in the
capillaries to venous obstruction, or to mechanical pressure
of any kind, because all observation proves that such causes,
while they induce effusion of serum, never occasion exu¬
dation of liquor sanguinis. Neither can we suppose it to
depend on endosmose, nor on a vis ct tergo, as such physi¬
cal causes cannot be shown to apply in all cases. We are
compelled, therefore, to attribute the vital force producing
these changes, not to anything residing in the blood or in
the vessels, but in the tissues which lie outside the vessels.
That these do possess a power attractive and selective,
whereby matters are drawn from the blood to carry on
nutrition and secretion, is now generally admitted in physio¬
logy. A modification of this power, whereby the attrac¬
tive property is augmented, and the selective one diminished,
PHYSIOLOGY.
fhysiology at least offers us an explanation consistent with all known
^ ^ v ^ feels, and seems to be the only active agency to which we
can ascribe the approach of the coloured particles to the
capillary walls, and the passage through them of the
exudation.
Theory of the Exudations.
The true cause of exudation, therefore, is irritation of
texture, so modifying its vital properties that, instead of
selecting and attracting from the blood simply what is ne¬
cessary to keep up the nutritive processes, it draws out
the entire liquor sanguinis. This is the exudation which,
if it do not die to produce mortification or ulceration,
undergoes vital transformations, constituting what have
been called the terminations, or resulting phenomena of
inflammation in healthy persons, or tubercle and cancer in
certain constitutional states of the system. In the first case,
the transformations materially depend on the rapidity with
which the exudations are thrown out, or the situation where
they occur, and on the vital powers of the body. But in
tubercular and cancerous exudations we observe no dis¬
tinctions from these causes, although it has been remarked
that situation so far influences cancer that scirrhus is most
common in fibrous, and encephaloma in cellular organs.
The more important characters of the three kinds of exu¬
dation may be shortly stated as follows :—
We observe in a simple or inflammatory exudation, that
it may occur at all epochs in life ; that it may attack all
tissues, and most commonly those which are very vascular;
that it may be poured out in large or small quantities ; and
that it may occur with greater or less rapidity ; hence the
terms acute and chronic. We further observe, that the
acute exudations are generally attended with symptoms of
a peculiar character (inflammatory), and have a great ten¬
dency to cell or temporary formations, which rapidly break
down, are absorbed, and excreted by the emunctories;
that the chronic exudations, on the other hand, have a
tendency to fibrous or permanent formations, producino-
adhesions, strictures, indurations, &e.
We observe in a cancerous exudation that it occurs
for the most part in persons of adult or advanced life;
that it may also occur in every tissue, but is by far most
common in glandular or fatty organs, such as the liver or
female mamma, and is very apt to attack the lymphatic
glands secondarily; that its progress, although sometimes
slow when very fibrous, becomes rapid when corpuscles
abound in it; that there is a great tendency to the forma¬
tion of the most perfect forms of cell life, which have the
power of self-development, and thereby of spreading to
neighbouring tissues; and lastly, that when by pressure
ulceration is produced on free surfaces, it bursts through
these in exuberant fungoid excrescences.
We observe in a tubercular exudation that it occurs
for the most part in young subjects, between the periods
of dentition and of adult age; that it may also occur in
all tissues, but is by far most common primarily in the
lymphatic glands, and afterwards in fibrous or albuminous
textures, as the lungs and serous surfaces; that its pro¬
gress is in general exceedingly slow; that there is no dis¬
position to the formation of perfect cell formation, but
rather to abortive corpuscles, which form slowly, and
slowly break down ; that there is little tendency to ab¬
sorption, but great liability to disintegration and ulceration ;
and finally, that the local changes are almost always pre¬
ceded by derangement of the pnmce viee, and a group of
symptoms known under the name of dyspepsia.
Taking, then, the products of simple exudation (say pus)
as a standard, we cannot fail to remark, that whilst the
cell-development of tubercle is below, that of cancer is
above this standard. Of the three kinds of exudation,
tubercle is the lowest, and cancer the highest, in the
scale.
Of the ultimate cause producing this difference in the
formative power of the exudation we are ignorant, but
every kind of reasoning must lead us to the conclusion
that these changes and effects depend, not upon the vas¬
cular system, which is the mere apparatus for the produc¬
tion of exudation; not upon the nervous system, which
conducts impressions to or from this apparatus; and not
on the texture, which is the seat of the exudation, as that
varies, whilst the cancerous or tubercular formation is the
same; but in the inherent composition or constitution of
the exudation itself. On this point most pathologists are
agit ed ; and hence the supposed existence of various kinds
oi'dyscrasice originating in the blood, which it is imagined
explain the diffeient results produced. But here patholo¬
gists pause . once traced back to the blood, they are con¬
tent ; and they have not sufficiently taken into considera¬
tion that the blood itself is dependent for its constitution
on the results of the primary digestion in the alimentary
canal on the one hand, and the secondary digestion in the
tissues on the other. Yet it must be evident to every
physiologist that if it be the constitution of the blood
which determines the nature of the exudation, the causes
which produce this must be sought in those circumstances
which operate on the composition of the former fluid.
Now, numerous facts render it probable that, while the
blood is normal in simple exudation, it contains an excess
of nutritive materials in cancerous, and a deficiency of them
in tubercular exudation. These are points, however, which
can only be established after examining instances of such
exudations in detail. But it must not be forgotten, in the
meantime, that as the blood is continually undergoing
changes, is receiving and giving off new matters, it can
scarcely happen that it remains the same for many hours
together. An exudation at one time may be very different
from that at another. At one period it may abound in
elements which do not exist in it at the next. Hence it
often happens that a concurrence of circumstances is ne¬
cessary to occasion a certain result. A cancer, once formed,
may remain local until such a series of events arises, com¬
prising, first, the phenomena leading to and producing
an exudation ; secondly, the occurrence of this exudation
in some other tissue or organ sufficiently predisposed for
the purpose; and thirdly, a peculiar constitution of the
blood. Hence why the histologist is continually finding
all kinds of intermediate formations between the three lead¬
ing kinds of exudation, and why, even when the constitu¬
tion is thoroughly cancerous or tubercular, simple exuda¬
tions may be poured into tissues as the result of recent
wounds or injuries. But, whilst a recent cancerous or a
tubercular exudation may be found to accompanv, or al¬
ternate with, a simple exudation, the two former are seldom
met with together ; a circumstance which still further points
out the wide difference between the constitutional causes
producing them.
The final termination of either kind of exudation may be
the same, only each has its peculiarities. We have noticed
the tendencies of simple exudation to be transformed into
pus or fibres, according to its seat. In the former case, the
pus cells break down, and are re-absorbed in a disintegrated
and fluid condition into the blood ; in the latter, permanent
fibrous tissue is produced, constituting chronic adhesions or
cicatrices. The cells of a cancerous growth may also dege¬
nerate or decay, but this rarely takes place throughout the
whole structure. But it is not uncommon to find in certain
encephalomatous tumours yellow matter, either in masses
oi reticulated through its substance {cancer reticulare of
Muller). This is generally owing to fatty degeneration of
the cancer cells. (See “ Fatty Degeneration,” in this article).
1 he fibrous structure of cancer may also increase, and occa-
693
Physiology
694
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology sionally produce cicatrization. Tubercle possesses no such
fibrous stroma; but is infiltrated among the elements of
various organs, the vascularity of which it tends to destroy.
This, indeed, is the reason why a cancerous tumour increases
by growth, which tubercle cannot be said to do ; the former
is vascular, the latter is not: in the one, cells are formed
which have the power of re-development; in the other, no
reproductive cells are produced. In cancer, the morbid
matter circulating in the blood (whatever that is) is con¬
centrated or attracted to the cancerous part, and should
none afterwards be present, the healthy blood is made sub¬
servient to the purpose of nourishing a foreign growth. In
tubercle, successive fresh exudations only are made, which,
by their accumulation, augment the volume or amount of
the morbid product.
All three forms of exudations may be rendered abortive
by the animal matter being broken down and absorbed,
while the mineral matter remains, constituting a cretaceous
or calcareous concretion. This is not unfrequently seen
as the result of simple exudation ; is rare in cancerous, but
very common in tubercular exudation.
During the disintegration of simple, cancerous, and
tubercular exudations, the animal matter broken down is
again rendered fluid, re-passes into the blood, and then
constitutes that excess of fibrin detected by chemists. The
quantity of this will of course vary according to the amount
of the exudation and the activity of the disintegrating pro¬
cess. In the blood this effete matter undergoes a series of
chemical changes, preparatory to its excretion by the dif¬
ferent emunctories, but more especially by the kidneys, in
the form of various sediments. The resolution of simple
exudation is generally accompanied by the presence of
such urinary sediments, which indicate pretty clearly in
what way, after it has passed through the phases of develop¬
ment described, it is at length discharged from the body.
In the same manner, the amount of these sediments fre¬
quently points out the extent of absorption going on in
Cancerous and tubercular exudations.
Another theory has been advanced regarding the various
products of exudation as we have described them—viz.,
that instead of being new formations in an exuded blood
plasma, they are only modifications of pre-existing texture.
According to this view, pus-cell^ are only altered epithelial
ones, cancer-cells are an increased development of gland or
other cells, and tubercle corpuscles are a degeneration or
“necrosis” of these. This theory, though it has many
facts for its support, is opposed by others; so that its fallacy
is easily demonstrated. For instance, pus-cells [may occur
in tissues where no epithelial cells exist, as among muscles,
while cancer and tubercle are both found in the white sub¬
stance of the brain, where there are no cells to develop
themselves in the one case, or to degenerate in the other.
Theory of Morbid Growths.
This comprehends a consideration of the origin, develop¬
ment, propagation, and decline of morbid growths. Doubt¬
less many facts are yet to be discovered as to the struc¬
ture, chemical composition, and mode of formation of mor¬
bid growths ; but enough has been ascertained of late years,
from combined histological and clinical research, to neces¬
sitate great modifications in the views previously held
regarding them. The following account, it is only right
to say, is derived not only from careful study of what has
been written by others, but from a large amount of original
investigation.
Origin of Morbid Growths.—All morbid growths con¬
sist—L<tf, In augmented development of pre-existing tex¬
tures (so-called homologous or homeomorphous growths);
2J, Of new elements which have no previous existence in
the economy (so-called heterologous or heteromorphous
growths); and, 3d, Of these two sorts of growth mingled Physiology
together. The causes which induce them are of two
kinds,—\st, Local irritation, excited directly or indirectly;
and, 2d, Constitutional or unknown changes, supposed to
operate through the blood. Thus the direct stimulus of
a blow may so irritate the tissue of a part as to excite
increased nutritive action, so causing hypertrophy, or it
may give rise to an exudation ; and irritation at a distance
may, through the nervous system, produce like effects, as
when the female mamma is influenced by the state of the
uterus. If, on the other hand, the constitution be affected,
such local changes may assume peculiar characters. In
this manner, age, sex, hereditary predisposition, and con¬
comitant disorders, as syphilis and cancer, not only modify,
but give rise to morbid growths.
It has been a favourite idea with pathologists that mor¬
bid growths have fixed tendencies from the beginning,
such as are impressed upon the ova of various animals, in
virtue of which they are necessarily developed in certain
directions. If so, this is not traceable to any peculiarity
of structure or chemical composition. In this respect
morbid growths are like healthy ones, which, however dif¬
ferent in ultimate composition, all originate in a finely
molecular blastema. A careful observation of the subse¬
quent development of these growths, however, seems to
indicate that specific differences are not impressed upon
them from the first—that one does not, as a matter of
course, exclude the other, and that any of the classes into
which they have been divided may supervene upon pre¬
existing ones. For instance, persons may have a fibrous
or glandular growth, and aftei* a time its blood-vessels may
pour into it a cancerous exudation, or this latter may un¬
dergo a fibrous or fatty transformation. It is only in this
manner we can explain numerous cases, which are daily
observable in practice, where indolent fibrous tumours sud¬
denly assume increased power of development, and become
cancers, or where these last slough out, and subsequently
cicatrize.
Besides these constitutional causes, locality and the
nature of pre-existing textures have a considerable influence
on the formation of morbid growths. Thus, as a general
rule, fibrous growths are common in fibrous textures, car¬
tilaginous and bony growths in osseous ones, epithelial
growths on epidermic and mucous membranes, and so on.
Yet even here the system generally occasions differences.
For example, osseous growths in rheumatic constitutions
occur at the extremities of long bones; but in syphilitic
ones, choose in preference their shafts. In youth, epithe¬
lioma occurs in the form of warts on the hands; in syphi¬
litic people it occurs in the genitals; in chimney-sweeps,
on the scrotum; in smokers, on the lips, &c. This con¬
joined influence of constitution and locality indicate the
complex causes necessary to produce the results, a study
of which is of the greatest moment to the physician, who
is desirous, through the former, of operating on the latter,
or the contrary, as previously explained in the sketch ot
the function of nutrition.
Development of Morbid Growths.—All morbid growths,
once formed, continue to grow according to the histological
laws which regulate development in the textures generally;
that is to say, after arriving at a certain point, they attract
from the blood-vessels in the neighbourhood, or from such
new ones as are formed within themselves, the nutritive
materials whereby they augment in bulk. In voluntary
muscular fibre, this appears to be accomplished by the
fasciculi multiplying fissiparously. In non-voluntary con¬
tractile fibre, also, the individual fusiform cells multiply,
enlarge, and elongate ; a change well observed in the preg¬
nant uterus, in which organ many of the small non-con
tractile spindle-shaped fibres enlarge, become contractile,
and then undergo the fatty degeneration, break down, and
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology ultimately disappear. In the same manner, the elementary
parts in hypertrophies of other textures augment fissipa-
rously or endogenously, as in bone and cartilage.
Other forms of morbid growth, especially tumours, are
very variable as to rapidity of increase and volume; but
the manner in which the development is accomplished is of
three distinct kinds:—ist, The elementary textures are
produced in the same manner as they are in adult tissues.
They are either more numerous or larger, but preserve
their normal relation and mode of arrangement (lipoma,
adenoma, angionoma). 2d, A matter is thrown out from
the blood, which serves as a blastema for the formation of
cells, which may be detected in various stages of develop¬
ment, undergoing the same changes that similar textures
are seen to present in the embryo (fibroma, osteoma). 3d,
The cells, whether pre-existing or newly formed, assume
such a property of self-multiplication that their normal
relation and mode of arrangement is destroyed (epithelioma,
enchondroma, carcinoma). These three modes of increase
may occur singly or united. Any one or two of them may
be superadded to the third, and their occurrence at different
times, and in various proportions, accounts to a great extent
for the apparent anomalies exhibited in the progress of
individual growths.
The third mode of development just alluded to deserves
special consideration. It consists of the same kind of en¬
dogenous multiplication of cells, with this difference, that
sometimes these cells previously existed, whilst at others
they have been newly formed in an exudation. Thus the
cells in softened cartilage or brain, and those in ence-
phaloma, may be identical; yet the one takes its origin in
pre-existing normal cells, whilst the other must arise in
the new cells of an exudation, as the white substance of
the brain contains no corpuscles from which they could be
developed. In the cornea and epithelium similar changes
occur, as well as in the bones and mesenteric glands. Yet
this lesion, so closely allied in its essential nature, has in
these different textures been called by different names, and
widely separated pathologically. In the non-vascular cor¬
nea and cartilage it has been called inflammation, but in
the equally non-vascular epithelium it has been named
cancer. Again, in the vascular bones and glands it has
received various names, such as osteo, or medullary sar¬
coma, enlarged glands, &c.; whilst in the brain and other
localities it has been called encephaloma, or soft cancer.
It seems to us that in all these cases the lesion is the
same, and that an advanced knowledge of their nature
should lead us to group them together. Calling some of
them inflammation, and others cancer, supposing the first
to be innocent, and the last malignant, is, we contend, in¬
correct pathology. True theory points out that all these
lesions are equally destructive, in consequence of increased
endogenous cell growth, and practical experience has long
determined the question of their being alike difficult to
control.
As a general rule, the greater the number of cells any
growth contains, the more rapidly it extends. Hence why
a tumour is subject to the laws which govern develop¬
ment and multiplication of cells in addition to those con¬
nected with locality and the general powers of the constitu¬
tion. Ihus, room for expansion and the amount of tempe¬
rature and moisture exercise undoubted influence over mor¬
bid growths. We see the influence of room for expansion
in the cases of adenoma and carcinoma. In adenoma the
cells are confined within pouches or ducts. They become
crowded on each other; and thus, by means of compression,
tend to atrophy and breaking down, rather than to self-mul¬
tiplication. 1 his is assisted if the distension from within
so irritates the fibrous stroma of the gland that it becomes
hypertrophied, and occasions a further obstacle to expan¬
sion around the seat of cell increase. In carcinoma, we
695
observe that the growth takes place in extent and rapidity Physiology
proportionally to the number and power of expansion in w
the cells. It compressed by much fibrous or hard tissue
they multiply slowly; but if an ulceration occurs, say in
the skin, then they become developed rapidly, and consti¬
tute the so-called soft fungoid excrescences. Heat and
moisture, as they are essential to cell growth throughout
the animal and vegetable worlds (increased temperature
with fluidity favouring—cold, and dryness checking it
within certain limits), so the influence of these physical
agents may be observed to be equally powerful in morbid
growths. Rapid augmentation of a tumour is generally
accompanied by increased heat and softening of the parts
whilst colder and harder swellings develop themselves
slowly.
Propagation of Morbid Growths.—It has seemed to most
pathologists that, while some morbid growths are local, and
if removed by the surgeon, do not return, others are’con¬
stitutional or general, and if cut away, exhibit a great ten¬
dency to come back. The former have been called inno¬
cent or benignant, and the latter malignant. So far has
the notion of malignancy in certain growths been carried,
that surgeons have refused to remove them, not because
they are inaccessible, or so connected with anatomical parts
as to render the operation directly dangerous to life, but
simply because they thought the disease was in the blood,
and that cutting away the local swelling would either be
useless, or give increased activity to the lesion.
But modern research has demonstrated that every kind of
morbid growth may be malignant in whatever sense that term
be employed, whether used to signify a growth incurable; re¬
curring after the operation or primary lesion ; as infiltrating
neighbouring or distant tissues and organs; or as continuing
its progress and destroying life in spite of all the resources
of art. On the other hand, it is easy to prove that all these
forms of growth may either disappear spontaneously, or be
cured successfully by operation. While, however, we con¬
tend that there is no growth which may not be malig¬
nant, and none which may not be innocent, it is not de¬
nied that some have a greater tendency to spread and
affect the system than others. In reference to treatment,
therefore, it becomes of the greatest importance to deter¬
mine the laws which apparently govern the propagation and
multiplication of morbid growths, or the circumstances
which render—say carcinoma and epithelioma—more sus¬
ceptible of being communicated to neighbouring and inter¬
nal organs than purely fibrous or osseous ones.
There is one circumstance which has been overlooked
by pathologists, viz., that certain growths abounding in cells
have a great disposition to infiltrate themselves among mus¬
cles and neighbouring parts, and may be detected there by
the microscope, although invisible to the naked eye. In
many cases where the surgeon thinks he has removed a
morbid growth, he really leaves multitudes of germs behind,
which continue to propagate the disease. Hence one of the
chief causes of propagation among growths is, that the cells
in the process of development become infiltrated among
neighbouring tissues. But how do they accomplish this ?
Van der Kolk suggests that the fluids which they contain
mingle with the juice of the parenchymatous substance
around them, and that in the latter there are deposited
molecules and granules, which, having received from the
former certain tendencies to evolution, are ultimately trans¬
formed into similar structures. This view is not only ex¬
ceedingly ingenious but very probable, and will serve to-
explain how the blood and distant organs are secondarily
affected. The notion of solid germs floating in the blood
has no facts in its support, but the idea of a fluid secreted
by cells being absorbed is consonant with every known law
of nutrition.
1 he fluid, then, of a morbid growth, elaborated in the
PHYSIOLOGY.
696
Physiology process of its development, and the result of cell or other
n—formation, would seem to be the most probable materia
whereby secondary growths are produced. We have seen
that many tumours which have no cells may be recurrent,
and attack tissues secondarily. Still, they all contain a
parenchymatous juice, and as a general rule those that are
most soft and pulpy are most liable to return. Many rac s,
therefore, show that constitutional tendencies do exist tor
the reproduction of morbid growths similar to those which
have previously been formed. A recurrence of all diseases,
and especially of apoplexy, epilepsy, rheumatism, bronchitis,
&c., is equally common, and appear to follow the same
law. But the idea, that because they do so they should be
separated under the name of “ malignant,” appears to us
unpathological. Multiplying the numbers of cancers seems
equally faulty. We may just as correctly talk of a rheu¬
matism being innocent or malignant, as apply those tei ms
in different cases to fibrous, cartilaginous, osseous, or other
kinds of morbid growth, for no other reason than because
sometimes they are local, and at others more general.
Decline or Degeneration of Morbid Growths. In then
decline, as in their development, the various kinds of mor¬
bid growths follow the laws which regulate degeneration o
texture. Some, as lipoma and adenoma, have been known
to be gradually absorbed and disappear. Others undergo
the albuminous, fatty, mineral, or pigmentary transforma¬
tions to be subsequently described. To enter into the pe¬
culiarities of each morbid growth in this respect would lead
us too far. All that need be said here is, that every kind of
morbid growth may degenerate, and prove abortive in one
way or another. Cancer especially has been known to
slough out, and heal by cicatrix, besides having been
checked in its development and rendered -bortive in every
known mode of retrograde transformation.
Theory of Degeneration of Texture.
Degenerations of texture, as previously stated, may be
classified into four groups,—viz., the Albuminous, Fatty,
Pigmentary, and Mineral degenerations.
Albuminous Degeneration.—It has been previously
pointed out that albumen is essential to nutrition, and that
it forms the basis of the blood and of the tissues. T. he
flesh which constitutes the food of Carnivora, and the albu¬
men which comprises so large a portion of the fodder of
Graminivora, are alike, by the solvent action of the digestive
juices, reduced to a fluid state. In this condition it passes into
the blood, forming the walls of the blood corpuscles, besides
entering largely into the constitution of the liquor sanguinis
as serum,—that is, albumen dissolved in water. During the
building up process of the former it undergoes various
transformations, among which those of its conversion into
the fibrin of flesh and the gelatine of bones are perhaps the
most important. By its association with the other proxi¬
mate principles also, it enters into the composition of every
texture and organ in the body, and again joins the blood
as albumen, mixed with a minute portion of effete matter
as fibrin. There can be no doubt, as we shall subsequently
see, that under certain circumstances it may be changed
into fat; and the multitudinous transformations this im¬
portant element is susceptible of making well merits the
term which, in its pure state, Mulder bestowed upon it,
namely, that of “ proteine.”
As albumen, we have seen how it may produce abnor-
‘o1 states of the tissues in various forms. The essential
mal
conditions for this kind of degeneration appear to be—
Extreme slowness of effusion from the blood-vessels, as in
cases of chronic tubercle and fibroid transformation; and
2d, Mechanical obstruction of the veins in some part of
the circulation, giving rise to dropsy. In the former case,
it is favoured by excess of acidity in the primae vise, which,
bv its power of dissolving the albuminous compounds, must Physiology
assist in adding this element to the blood in undue proper-
tion. Why, on the other hand, muscles, cartilage, and the
exudations should sometimes pass into the albuminous
fibroid degeneration, under pretty much the same circum¬
stances that at others they become fatty, is a point in pa-
tholoo-y which is still involved in the utmost obscurity.
Fatty Degeneration.—The causes of fatty degeneration
are to be sought in all those circumstances which, while
they weaken the vital action of a part, do not interfere ma¬
terially with the assimilation of hydro-carburets. Yet the
disease is not purely local, as it may frequently be observed
that the kidneys, liver, heart, and other textures are prone
to undergo the fatty change in the same person. Hence
everything that increases fatty matter in the blood, such
as its introduction by means of assimilation, or its not pass¬
ing off in consequence of diminished excretion, tends to its
production. Thus indulgence in rich food, and alcoholic
liquors abounding in carbon, especially if there be little
exercise, occasion it. Whether the fatty matter be depo¬
sited directly from the blood, or whether it be the subse¬
quent result of a chemical transformation of tissue or exu¬
dation, has excited great discussion. Dr Quain supports
the latter view, and has performed experiments, whereby
it would seem that healthy muscular fibrin may be rendered
fatty artificially by digesting it for a fortnight in water. We
have repeatedly seen muscles and bones converted into
adipocere during the maceration in water necessary to
clean the latter, and frequently examined the former during
the process, so as to be satisfied that the fibrinous material
of flesh undergoes a chemical transformation into fat. We
believe with Quain that the same thing occurs in the living
body, not only when, dead tissues are inclosed in it, as in
the experiments of Wagner, but slowly in living texture,
until its vigour is at length so impaired that it is incapable
of performing its function. This view in no way excludes
the probability that in certain cases fatty matter may trans¬
ude occasionally through the vessels in a fluid state, and
collect outside, or be infiltrated to a certain extent among
neighbouring textures in a molecular form. Fiuther, we
have seen that it may occur within cells as a secretion ; and
by its accumulation not only may cause atrophy of the nu-_
cleus, but obstruction of tubes, and an endless variety of
organic and functional derangements in the economy, ac¬
cording to the extent and seat of the degeneration.
Pigmentary Degeneration.—The formation and modifi¬
cations of pigment, as observed in plants and animals, is a
subject which has been little studied, and opens up a wide
field of inquiry for the chemical histologist. But in endea¬
vouring to ascertain the causes which give rise to change
of colour in the textures, we may attend to the following
circumstances :—
1a’<, Colouring matter bears a certain relation to the non-
nitrogenous and oily constituents both in plants and ani¬
mals. Thus, vegetable oils and resins are seen to foim
where starch or chlorophyle is collected, and these sub¬
stances disappear in the cells, as the quantity of oil in them
increases. In animals we almost always find pigment asso¬
ciated with fat. The brilliant colours of the Invertebrata
are so many coloured fats, and the pink fat of the salmon,
and green fat of the turtle, indicate the same relation in
animals higher in the scale. The epidermic appendages,
which are generally coloured, are always covered with fat,
secreted by a special apparatus—the sebaceous glands.
The blood corpuscles are intimately associated with the
chyle, which is an oily emulsion; and the bile is rich in lat.
In diseased conditions of the liver, the hepatic cells often
contain oil, to the exclusion of the yellow pigment.
2d, It would appear that light, heat, and exposure to
atmospheric air are connected with the production of pig“
ment. The young leaves of plants are much lighter than
Physiology those which are older, and the hair of young animals is not
so dark as that of the adult. In autumn, the leaves fade, and
become brown, reddish, or yellow; and in man, we observe
that the pigment of the hair ceases to be formed in ad¬
vanced age, which at length becomes white. Young fruit
is green, and as it ripens the part exposed to the sun is
most coloured. Exposure of the skin of man, as is well
mown, renders it darker, and the fairest skinned indivi¬
duals (whose integuments are well loaded with fat) are
those who are most subject to freckles. Then it must be
remembered that while light evolves colour in living, it
destroys pigment in dead textures.
. Now’ l}\e decomposition of the atmosphere is carried on
in vegetables by the leaves, under the stimulus of light,
rflTm in animalc? Ktt 1   i i • t ^ *
PHYSIOLOGY.
697
of blood-vessels more or less associated with atheroma in pi, • ,
exudations, rn certain morbid growths-rarely in nmois
LtJXLUI t;.
All these forms of degeneration may pass into concre¬
tions, but are separated from them essentially by bein^
transformations of tissue; while concretions, for the most
part, are primary precipitations from fluids.
T/ieory of Parasitic Growths.
Vegetable Parasites. It was the demonstration bvBassi
in 1837 of the vegetable nature of the disease named mus-
cardme m silk-worms, which causes so great a mortality
<*«** «p*> pathologists l
and in animals by the lungsand skin. In plants the leaves new field'ibr observation'and i'STu “'a'0 Patl'ol,°S!sts a
fix the carbon and give off the oxvcen • in animak tbp tQ- r i v,.0"’and led to the discovery that cer-
lungs receive oxygen, while carbon is fepamted in the form self were connected whhThe”'""’'8.’!,1*"? eVen “ “an hin"
of carbonic acid by the same organs, and oxygen in com- a low tvnp ^ 1 the growth of parasitic plants of
bination with water, in the form of exhalation is civen off tbp^T’ Schonlein Jof Berlm was the first to detect
both by the lungs and skin. That the «kin is connected with in T ^ avus'c.rusfs and *mce then they have been found
rpsnimt-inn ic ^connected with in mentagra, pityriasis, and other diseases of the skin in
van fmc £»Yiir1a + i/-vY-\ci    n • ^
. ° ^ uuuutjccea wun
respiration is proved by the fact, that if its functions are in¬
terrupted, pulmonary diseases, and even asphyxia, are the
common results. Carbon is also separated in the form of
oily matter largely by the skin and by the liver, an organ
also connected with respiration. Hence why Europeans in
tropical climates by breathing a rare atmosphere, eating
well, and taking little exercise, are liable to hepatic dis-
eases. Thus the lungs, skin, and liver are intimately asso-
ciated in the function of excreting carbon ; and it is curious
at these are the three organs in which pigment is formed,
he blood must be brought to the lungs to receive fresh
oxygen and give off its carbonic acid, and it is then the
white corpuscles of the chyle become coloured, while the
b ood itself is rendered bright scarlet. On the other hand,
the accumulation of carbonic acid in the capillaries com-
mumcates the darker tint characteristic of venous blood.
6d, 1 here seems to be a certain connection between
the materials introduced into the structure of the plant or
anima1 by means of the soil and of food. Some plants are
rich m acids, others in alkalies, or various salts originally
derived from the soil, and we have seen that these re-agents
operate on colouring matter. Although this subject has
een vei\ slightly investigated, we can still perceive how,
by the evolution of chemical products acting on different
pigments, the various shades of colour may be occasioned
which we observe in most plants and some animals at cer¬
tain seasons. Thus green chlorophyle may be changed in
one place into a yellow resin, and in another, by the forma¬
tion of ulmic or other acids, be transformed to reddish or
brown. In animals, the influence of nutrition is traced
with more difficulty; but even here we may discern that
at certain seasons (such as that of breeding) new products
are evolved, which, by operating on the blood or the
vital properties of cells, may eliminate more or less colour.
According to Hensinger, carbonaceous food used in excess
r"d3f,to tde Production of pigment, and hence he explains
how the Greenlanders, notwithstanding the cold, are dark
coloured from their constant consumption of fat.
ineral Degeneration.—We have already seen that
some imes this takes place in such a regular manner as to
form bone, which replaces the pre-existing texture,—as
muscle, membrane, or certain exudations and tumours.
dKoWd 1vienteJrS. int0 the institution of a texture
l in fluid, and is thus deposited in or throughout its
characters. ^ vital
• j • v'cv-i uiocdses ui me SKin, in
various exudations on mucous surfaces, in the stomach of
dyspeptics, and in tubercular cavities of the luno-s Thev
belong to the lowest forms of vegetable life, never reach¬
ing an organization higher than the Algae and Fun<d. Thev
grow m such portions of diseased animal matter as present
certain conditions necessary for their germination, and sel¬
dom, if ever, spring from the healthy tissues. Such growths
m Jiving animals indicate impairment of the nutritive func¬
tions, or diminished vital power in the economy. Hence
Why they are commonly found in young or scrofulous per¬
sons with skin eruptions, and in such as are labouring under
prostrating diseases,—as typhus, dysentery, or other epi¬
demic disorders. Numerous efforts to propagate these vege¬
tations m healthy tissues have failed, but if inflammation
he excited, or abrasions and sores occasioned, then bv
fastening down portions of the fungus, it may be made to
grow on the unhealthy parts. Boys at school frequently
propagate the disease by wearing each other’s caps, or usino-
the same combs. Hence why favus, or ringworm, is sS
difficult to eradicate from charity institutions and exten¬
sive schools. The mode of development of these growths is
the same essentially as that of most cryptogamic plants, and
may be easily seen in any well characterized specimen of
favus-crust. This consists of branched thalli, with vari¬
able-sized elongated cells, separated by partitions, the ter¬
minal ones forming mycelia, with sporules forming within
them. Occasionally they present round clusters or chains
at the extremity of the branches. The square masses of
oarcina are developed fissiparously.
Animal Parasites enter the body by the food or drink ;
others as ova, or in some stage of transformation. The
mystery which so long enveloped the origin and develop¬
ment of tape-worms is now removed by the labours of
modern helminthologists, as has been previously explained
under the head of “ Reproduction.”
characters. In this way we ^ V 6 rerae™bered that the encephalon, spinal cord, and nerves
from concretions, which are accidental coffectionf^lTff0118 1 of an a£gregati°n of organs more or less connected
vispprn nlthp,,™!, „ oental collections in hollow together, the functions of which.
from V- / =cp»iaie mineral degenerations
viscera althn T’ wb!c 1 are accidental collections in hollow
another Th?' Und°ubt£fy they insensibly pass into one
element'arv ^ 6 13 perhaPS any ^e, whether
deg^neS f ^ ^ n0t underg° the mineraI
egeneration. But it is frequently observed in the coats
V (J.L. XVII*
DISEASES OF INNERVATION.
The manner in which the different parts of the nervous
system have their functions deranged or suspended is only
to be understood bypaying attention—1^, To the pathologi-
cal laws which seem to govern morbid actions in them ; and
Jd, 1 o the definition of what constitute special nervous dis¬
eases, and the general causes producing them. It should
be remembered that the encephalon, spinal cord, and nerves
nnncicf- nf on   ,
i r r& wigaua mvic or less connected
together, the functions of which, especiallyas regards the dif¬
ferent parts of the encephalon, are by no means determined.
In health these act in harmony, but in disease they are so
n regularly disordered that, while the action of one is excited,
that of another may be perverted or annihilated. These
4 x
PHYSIOLOGY.
698
Physiology derangements of the nervous system are capable of assum-
in*1- at various times every conceivable disordei ot in
teiii"ence, sensation, and motion ; so that not only may a
kinds of diseases which have received names be simu¬
lated, but the symptoms may be so curiously combined as to
set all arbitrary nosological classifications at defiance. _
it be farther remembered that through the brain, spinal
cord, and nerves the functions of every organ in the body
may be more or less influenced, the endless variety of loca
as well as of general derangements may perhaps be ima-
mned. Then nothing is more common than to observe some
of the most fatal nervous diseases, such as hydrophobia,
leaving after death no lesion detectable by the most care¬
ful histological examination, whilst on other occasions tu¬
mours and extensive destruction of the cerebral mass may
exist, without producing any effects whatever. Notwith¬
standing these difficulties, careful observation, conjoined
with a knowledge of physiology, will enable us to approxi¬
mate closely towards, if not actually reach, a correct view
of the disease in the great majority of cases.
GENERAL PATHOLOGY OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
The following are the pathological laws which seem to
regulate diseased action of the nervous centre-
1. The amount of fluids within the cranium must
always he the same so long as its osseous walls are capable
of resisting the pressure of the atmosphere. I bat the
circulation within the cranium is different from that in
other parts of the body was first pointed out by the
second Monro. It was tested experimentally by Ur Kellie
of Leith, ably illustrated by Dr Abercrombie, and success¬
fully defended by Dr John Reid. The views adopted by
these distinguished men were, that the cranium foims a
spherical bony case capable of resisting the atmospheric
pressure, the only openings into it being the different fora¬
mina by which the vessels, nerves, and spinal cord pass.
The encephalon, its membranes and blood-vessels, with
perhaps a small portion of the cerebro-spinal fluid, com¬
pletely fill up the interior of the cranium, so that no sub¬
stance can be dislodged from it without some equivalent
in bulk taking its place. Dr Monro used to point out
that a jar or other vessel similar to the cranium, with un¬
yielding walls, if filled with any substance, cannot be
emptied without air or some substance taking its place.
To use the illustration of Dr Watson, the contents of the
cranium are like beer in a barrel, which will not flow out
of one opening unless provision be made at the same time
that air rushes in. The same kind of reasoning applies to
the spinal canal, which, with the interior of the cranium,
may be said to constitute one large cavity, incompressible
by the atmospheric air.
Before proceeding further, we must draw a distinction
between pressure on, and compression of, an organ. Many
bodies are capable of sustaining a great amount of pres¬
sure without undergoing any sensible decrease in bulk.
By compression must be understood that a substance oc¬
cupies less space from the application of external force, as
when we squeeze a sponge, or compress a bladder filled
with air. Fluids generally are not absolutely incompres¬
sible, yet it requires the weight of one atmosphere, or 15 lb.
on the square inch, to produce a diminution equal to
inr&ffoth Part ^ie wh°fe> Now, this is so exceedingly
small a change upon a mass equal in bulk to the brain as
not to be appreciable to our senses. Besides, the pres¬
sure on the internal surface of the blood-vessels never ex¬
ceeds 10 or 12 lb. on the square inch during the most
violent exertion ; so that, under no possible circumstances
can the contents of the cranium be diminished even the
aoifl7)th part. When the brain is taken out of tlv
nium, it may, like a sponge, be compressed by squeeAw ^
fluid out of the blood-vessels ; but during life, surrounded Physiology
as it is by unyielding walls, this is impossible. For let us,
with Abercrombie, say that the whole quantity of blood
circulating within the cranium is equal to ten,—that is, five
in the veins, and five in the arteries; if one of these be
increased to six, the other must be diminished to four, so
that the same amount, ten, shall always be preserved. It
follows, that when fluids are effused, blood extravasated,
or tumours grow within the cranium, a corresponding
amount of fluid must be pressed out, or of brain absorbed,
from the physical impossibility of the cranium holding
more matter. At the same time, it must be evident that
an increased or diminished amount of pressure may be ex¬
erted on the brain proportioned to the power of the heart’s
contraction, the effect of which will be, not to alter the
amount of fluids within the cranium, but to cause, using
the words of Abercrombie, “a change of circulation”
there.
Dr Kellie performed numerous experiments on cats and
dogs in order to elucidate this subject. Some of these
animals were bled to death by opening the carotid or
femoral arteries, others by opening the jugular veins. In
some the carotids were first tied, to diminish the quantity
of blood sent to the brain, and the jugulars were then
opened, with the view of emptying the vessels of the brain
to the greatest possible extent; while in others the jugu¬
lars were first secured, to prevent as much as possible the
return of the blood from the brain, and one of the carotids
was then opened. He inferred, from the whole inquiry,
which was conducted with extreme care, “ That we can¬
not, in fact, lessen to any considerable extent the quan¬
tity of blood within the cranium by arteriotomy or vene¬
section ; and that when, by profuse haemorrhages destruc¬
tive of life, we do succeed in draining the vessels within
the cranium of any sensible portion of red blood, there is
commonly found an equivalent to this spoliation in the in¬
creased circulation or effusion of serum, serving to main¬
tain the plenitude of the cranium.”
Dr Kellie made other experiments upon the effects of
position immediately after death from strangulation or
hanging. He also removed a portion of the unyielding
walls of the cranium in some animals by means of trephine,
and then bled them to death ; and the differences between
the appearances of the brain in these cases, and in those^
where the cranium was entire, were very great. One of
the most remarkable of these differences was its shrunk ap¬
pearance in those animals in which a portion of the skull
was removed, and the air allowed to gravitate upon its inner
surface. He says,-—“ The brain was sensibly depressed
below the cranium, and a space left, which was found
capable of containing a teaspoonful of water.”
It results from these inquiries that there must always
be the same amount of fluids within the cranium so long
as it is uninjured. In morbid conditions these fluids may
be blood, serum, or pus ; but in health, as blood is almost
the only fluid present (the cerebro-spinal fluid being very
trifling), its quantity can undergo only very slight altera¬
tions. There are many circumstances, however, which !
occasion local congestions in the brain, and consequently
unequal pressure on its structure, in which case another
portion of its substance must contain less blood, so that the
amount of the whole, as to quantity, is always preserved.
These circumstances are mental emotions, haemorrhages,
effusions of serum, and morbid growths. Such conges¬
tions, or local hyperhemias, in themselves constitute morbid
conditions; and nature has to a great extent provided
against their occurrence under ordinary circumstances, by
the tortuosity of the arteries and the cerebro-spinal fluid,
described by Magendie.
Dr Burrows has brought forward several observations
and experiments, which he considers opposed to the theory
Physiology now advocated. His facts are perfectly correct. We have
r repeated his experiments on rabbits, and can confirm his
descriptions. It is the inferences he draws from them
that are erroneous. For the paleness which results from
haemorrhage, and the difference observable in the colour of
the brain when animals immediately after death are sus-
pended by their ears or by their heels, is explicable by the
diminished number of coloured blood particles in the one
case, and by their gravitation downwards in the other.
That the amount of fluid within the cranium was in no way
affected, is proved by the plump appearance of the brains
figured by Dr Burrows, and the total absence of that
shrunken appearance so well described by Dr Kellie.
Neither does our observation of what occurs in asphyxia
or apnoea oppose the doctrine in question, as Dr Burrows
imagines, but rather confirms it.
On the whole, whether we adopt the terms of local con¬
gestion, of change of circulation within the cranium, or of
unequal pressure, our explanation of the pathological phe¬
nomena may be made equally correct, because each of
these modes of expression implies pretty much the same
thing.. But if we imagine that venesection will enable us
to diminish the amount of blood in the cerebral vessels, the
theory points out that this is impossible, and that the effects
of bleeding are explained by the influence produced on the
heart, the altered pressure on the brain exercised by its
diminished contractions, and the change of circulation within
the cranium thereby occasioned.
2. All the functions of the nervous system may he in¬
creased, perverted, or destroyed, according to the degree of
stimulus or disease operating on its various parts.—Thus,
as a geneial rule, it may be said that a slight stimulus pro¬
duces increased orperverted action, whilst the same stimulus,
Jong continued or much augmented, causes loss of func¬
tion. All the various stimuli, whether mechanical, chemical,
electrical, or psychical, produce the same effects, and in dif¬
ferent degrees. Circumstances influencing the heart’s ac¬
tion, stimulating drinks or food, act in a like manner. Thus,
if we take the effects of alcoholic drink for the purpose of
illustration, we observe that, as regards combined move¬
ments, a slight amount causes increased vigour and activity
in the muscular system. As the stimulus augments in in¬
tensity, we see irregular movements occasioned, stagger¬
ing, and loss of control over the limbs. Lastly, when°the
stimulus is excessive, there is complete inability to move,
^ the Power of doing so is temporarily annihilated!
With regard to sensibility and sensation, we observe cepha¬
lalgia, tingling, and heat of skin, tinnitus aurium, confu¬
sion of vision, muscce volitantes, double sight, and lastly,
complete insensibility and coma. As regards intelligence!
we observe at first rapid flow of ideas, then confusion of
mind, delirium, and, lastly, sopor and perfect unconscious¬
ness. In the same manner, pressure, mechanical irritation,
and the various organic diseases, produce augmented, per-
verted, or diminished function, according to the intensity
of the stimulus applied or amount of structure destroyed.
Then it has been shown that excess or diminution of
stimulus, too much or too little blood, very violent or very
weak cardiac contractions, and plethora or extreme exhaus¬
tion, will, so far as the nervous functions are concerned,
produce similar alterations of motion^ sensation, and intelli¬
gence. Excessive haemorrhage causes muscular weakness,
convulsions, and loss of motor power, perversions of all
the sensations, and lastly, unconsciousness from syncope.
ence the general strength of the frame cannot be
judged of by the nervous symptoms, although the treat-
ment of these will be altogether different, according as
the individual is robust or weak, has a full or small
pu se, c. These similar effects on the nervous centres
from apparently such opposite exciting causes, can only
be explained by the peculiarity of the circulation pre-
PHYSIOLOGY.
699
viously noticed. A change of circulation within the cranium Physiology
takes place, and whether arterial or venous congestion y ^
occurs, pressure on some portion of the organ is equally
the result. The importance of paying attention to this
point in the treatment must be obvious.
3. The seat of the disease in the nervous system in¬
fluences the nature of the phenomena or symptoms pro¬
duced.—As a general rule, it maybe stated that disease or
injury of one side of the encephalon especially influences
the opposite side of the body. It is said that some very
striking exceptions have occurred to this rule, but these at
any rate are remarkably rare. Besides, it is probable that
inasmuch as extensive organic disease, if occurring slowly
may exist without producing symptoms, whilst it is certain’
most important symptoms may be occasioned without or¬
ganic disease, even these few exceptional cases are really
not opposed to the general law. Then, as a general
rule, it may be said that diseases of the brain proper are
more especially connected with perversion and alteration
of the intelligence ; whilst diseases of the cranial portion of
the spinal cord and base of the cranium are more particu¬
larly evinced by alterations of sensation and motion. In
the vertebral portion of the cord, the intensity of pain and
of spasm, or want of conducting power, necessary to sensa¬
tion and voluntary motion, indicates the amount to which
the motor and sensitive fibres are affected. Further than
this we can scarcely generalize with prudence.
The fatality of lesions affecting various parts of the
nervous centres varies greatly. Ihus the hemispheres
may be extensively diseased, often without injury to life, or
even permanent alteration of function. Convulsions and
paralysis are the common results of disease of the ganglia
in the cranial portion of the cord. The same results from
esion of t\ie pons Varolii. But if the medulla oblongata,
where the eighth pair originates, be affected, or injury to
thi^ centie itself occur, it is almost always immediately
4. The rapidity or slowness with which the lesion oc¬
curs influences the phenomena or symptoms produced.—It
may be said, as a general rule, that a small lesion—for in¬
stance, a small haemorrhagic extravasation—occurring sud¬
denly, and with force, produces, even in the same situation,
more violent effects than a very extensive organic disease
which comes on slowly. This, however, will depend much
upon the seat of the lesion. Very extraordinary cases are
on record where large portions of the nervous centres have
been much disorganized without producing anything like
such violent symptoms as have been occasioned at other
times by a small extravasation in the same place. Here,
again, the nature of the circulation within the cranium offers
the only explanation, for the encephalon must undergo a
certain amount of pressure, if no time be allowed for it to
adapt itself to a foreign body; whereas any lesion coming
on slowly enables the amount of blood in the vessels to be
diminished according to circumstances, whereby pressure
is avoided.
The various lesions and injuries of the nervous system
produce phenomena similar in kind.—T\\e injuries which
may be inflicted on the nervous system, as well as the
morbid appearances discovered after death, are various.
For instance, there may be an extravasation of blood, exu¬
dation of lymph, a softening, a cancerous tumour, or tuber¬
cular deposit, and yet they give rise to the same nervous
phenomena, and are modified only by the circumstances
formerly mentioned, of degree, seat, suddenness, &c. Cer¬
tain nervous phenomena also are of a paroxysmal character,
whilst the lesions supposed to occasion them are stationary
or slowly increasing. It follows that the effects cannot be
ascribed to the nature of the lesions, but to something
which they all have in common ; and this apparently
may consist of \st, Pressure, with or without organic
PHYSIOLOGY.
700
Physiology change; 2d, More or less destruction or disorganization of
^ nervous texture. Further, when we consider that the same
nervous symptoms arise from irregularities in the circula¬
tion ; from increased as well as diminished action ; some¬
times when no appreciable change is found, as well as when
disorganization has occurred ; the theory of local conges-
tions to explain functional alterations of the nervous centres
seems the most consistent with known facts. That such
local congestions do frequently occur during life without
leaving traces detectable after death, is certain ; whilst the
occurrence of molecular changes, or other hypothetical
conditions which have been supposed to exist, have never
yet been shown to take place under any circumstances.
SPECIAL PATHOLOGY OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
The special disorders of the nervous system may be clas¬
sified into—Is*, Cerebral; 2rf, Spinal ; 3d, Cerebro-spinal ;
4*7«, Neural; and 5th, Neuro-spinal; according as the brain,
spinal cord, or nerves are affected alone, or in combination.
Aberrations of intellect always depend on cerebral disturb¬
ance, while perversions of motion and sensibility, if exten¬
sive, indicate spinal, and if local, neural disorder Thus,
insanity and apoplexy are cerebral; tetanus and chorea,
spinal; epilepsy and catalepsy are cerebro-spinal; neural¬
gia and local paralysis are neural; and all combined spasms,
dependent on diastaltic or reflex actions, are neuro-spina .
The following is an enumeration of nervous disorders, with
the meanings that ought to be attached to them.
Chorea.—Irregular action of the voluntary muscles, when physiology
stimulated by the will.
Hysteria.—Any kind of perverted nervous function, con¬
nected with uterine derangement. Nothing can be more
vague than this term.
Hydrophobia.—Spasms of the muscles of the pharnyx and
chest, with difficulty in drinking and dread of fluids.
Spasms and Convulsions.—Tonic and clonic contractions
of the muscles of every kind and degree, not included in
the above, originating in the cord (centric spinal diseases
—Marshall Hall).
Hemiplegia.—Paralysis of a lateral half of the body, gene¬
rally dependent on disorders of the cranial portion of
the spinal cord above the decussation in the medulla
oblongata.
Paraplegia.—Paralysis on both sides of the body, generally
the lower half, in consequence of disorder of the verte¬
bral portion of the spinal cord, below the decussation in
the medulla oblongata.
III. Cerebro-Spinal Disorders, in which both cerebral
lobes and spinal cord are affected :—
Epilepsy.—Loss of consciousness with spasms or convul¬
sions occurring in paroxysms. Apoplexy with convulsion
or paralysis is also cerebro-spinal.
Catalepsy.—Loss of consciousness with peculiar rigidity
of muscles, so that when the body or a limb is placed in
any position it becomes fixed.
Eclampsia.—Tonic spasms with loss of consciousness in
infants. The acute eoilensv of some writers.
Classification of Diseases of Innervation.
L Cerebral Disorders, in which the cerebral lobes {or
brain proper) are affected:—
Insanity, or mental aberration in its various forms, includ¬
ing delirium.
Headache and other uneasy sensations within the cranium,
such as lightness, heaviness, vertigo, &c. &c.
Apoplexy.—Sudden loss of consciousness and of voluntary
motion, commencing in the brain. The absence of
consciousness necessarily involves that of sensation. The
same condition as regards nervous phenomena exists in
syncope and asphyxia, but the first of these commences
in the heart, and the second in the lungs. Allied to
apoplexy is coma or stupor, arising from various causes
affecting the brain, such as pressure, or poisonous agents
like alcohol, chloroform, opium, &c. &c.
Trance, or prolonged somnolence, either with or without
perversion of sensation or motion. To this state is allied
ecstasy, or unconsciousness with mental excitement.
Irregular Motions, Spasms, &c., originating in excited
or diminished voluntary power, as in certain cases of
dominant ideas, somnambulism, saltatory movements, tre¬
mors, &c.; or, on the other hand, incapability of movement
from langour, surprise, mental agitation, &c. &c.
II. Spinal Disorders, in which the cranial and vertebral
portions of the spinal cord are affected:—
Spinal Irritation.—Pain in the spinal column, induced
or increased by pressure or percussion, often associated
with a variety of neuralgic, convulsive, spasmodic, or pa¬
ralytic disorders affecting in different cases all the organs
and viscera of the body, and so giving rise to an endless
number of morbid states.
Tetanus.—Tonic contraction of the voluntary muscles.
Trismus, if confined to the muscles of the jaw ; Opistho¬
tonos, if affecting the muscles of the back, so as to draw
the body backwards ; Emprosthotonos, if affecting the
muscles of the neck and abdomen, so as to draw the body
forwards ; and Pleurosthotonos, if affecting the muscles
of the body laterally, so as to draw the body sideways.
IV. Neural Disorders, in which the nerves are affected
during their course or at their extremities :—
Neuralgia.—Pain in the course of a nerve, although in
fact all kind of pain whatever is owing to irritation of the
nerves. Thus the sympathetic system of nerves and its
ganglia, though ordinarily giving rise to no sensation,
may occasionally do so, as in angina pectoris, colic, irri¬
table testicle and uterus, and in other agonizing sensa¬
tions, referred to various organs.
Irritation of the Nerves of Special Sense.—Of the
optic, causing of light, ocular spectra, muscat voli-
tantes, &c.; of the auditory, causing tinnitus aurium ; of
the olfactory, causing unusual sensitiveness to odour; and
of the gustatory, causing perverted tastes in the mouth.
Itching, formication, and other sensations referable to the
peripheral nerves, also belong to this class.
Irritation of Special Nerves of Motion, as in local
spasms of one or more muscles, or of the hollow viscera.
Local Paralysis.—Loss of motion or sensibility in a
limited part of the body, or confined to a special sense,
as in lead palsy, or in amaurosis, cophosis, anosmia,
ageustia, and ancesthesia.
V. Neuro-Spinal Disorders, in which both the nerves and
spinal cord are a^ffected.
Diastaltic or Reflex Actions.—To this class belong
all those diseases depending on irritation of the extremity
of a sensitive nerve, acting through the cord Snd motor
nerves on the muscular system, and producing a variety
of spasmodic disorders, local or general, far too numerous
to mention,—which can only be understood by a thorough
knowledge of the physiology of the diastaltic or excito-
motory system of nerves.
All these disorders may be the result of structural dis¬
ease of the nervous system, or of what is called functional
derangement, understanding by this a disease which, even
when it causes death, leaves no trace of altered structure
detectable with the aid of the microscope. Thus, tetanic
rigidity may depend on a spinal arachnitis, as well as on
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology the irritation from a wound or poisoning by strychnine;
‘V—' and delirium and coma may be caused by cerebral menin¬
gitis, as well as by moral insanity, starvation, or poisoning
by chloroform or opium. Whether in these cases there be
in fact only one cause common to the whole, it is difficult
to say ; certainly it cannot be demonstrated. It might be
contended that in every instance there is a certain amount
of congestion producing unaccustomed pressure, or that a
peculiar state of nutrition of the part is momentarily pro¬
duced here or there in the nervous mass. But as neither
theory appears to us applicable to all cases, we shall con¬
sider the pathological causes of nervous disorders as of four
kinds,—1^, Congestive ; 2d, Structural; 3c?, Diastaltic ;
^th, Toxic.
1. Congestive Derangements of the Nervous System.—
The peculiar nature of the circulation within the cranium
and vertebral canal has been previously pointed out, and
we have seen that, although well defended under ordinary
circumstances against any mischievous change, still, when
such change does occur, it operates in a peculiar manner.
In other words, so long as the bones are capable of resist¬
ing atmospheric pressure, although the amount of fluid
within these cavities cannot change as a whole, yet the dis¬
tribution of that amount may vary infinitely. Thus, by its
being accumulated sometimes in the arteries, at other
times in the veins, or now in one place and then in another,
unaccustomed pressure may be exercised on different parts
of the nervous centres. This, according to its amount, may
either irritate or suspend the functions of the parts; a fact
proved by direct experiment, as well as by innumerable
instances where depression of bone has caused nervous
phenomena which have disappeared on removal of the ex¬
citing cause. That congestion does frequently occur in
the brain and spinal cord there can be no doubt, although
it cannot always be demonstrated after death. The tonic
contraction of the arteries is alone sufficient to empty them
of their contents, and turgidity of the veins may or may not
remain according to the symptoms immediately preceding
death, and the position in which the body is placed. But
it is observable that those causes which excite or dimin¬
ish the action of the heart and general powers of the
body are at the same time those which induce nervous dis¬
turbance, as well as occasion a change of circulation in
the cerebro-spinal centres—such as the emotions and pas¬
sions, plethora and anaemia, unaccustomed stimuli, uterine
derangement, &c.
It is only by this theory that we can understand how
such various results occasionally occur from apparently the
same cause, and again how what appear to be different
causes produce similar effects. Thus, violent anger, or an
unaccustomed stimulus may, in a healthy person, induce a
flushed countenance, increased action of the heart, abound¬
ing pulse, and sudden loss of consciousness. Again, fear
or exhaustion may occasion a pallid face, depressed or
scarcely perceptible heart action, feeble pulse, and also
loss of consciousness. In the first case, or coma, there is
an accumulation of blood in the arteries and arterial capil¬
laries, and a corresponding compression of the veins ; in the
second case, or syncope, there is distension of the veins
and venous capillaries, with proportionate diminution of the
calibre of the arteries. In either case, owing to the pecu¬
liarity of the circulation within the cranium, pressure is ex¬
erted on the brain. Hence syncope differs from coma only
in the extreme feebleness of the heart’s action,—the cause,
producing loss of consciousness, sensation, and voluntary
motion, being the same in both. Indeed it is sometimes
difficult to distinguish these states from each other; and that
they have frequently been confounded, does not admit of
doubt.
In the same manner, partial congestion from either cause
may occur in one hemisphere, or part of a hemisphere, in
701
the brain, or in any particular portion or segment of the Physiology
spinal cord. I he pressure so occasioned may irritate and '
excite function, or may paralyse or suspend it; nay, it may
so operate as to suspend the function of one part of the
nervous system, while it exalts that of another. Thus all
the phenomena of epilepsy are eminently congestive, the
individual frequently enjoying the most perfect health in
the intervals of the attack, although the effects are for the
time terrible, causing such pressure that, while the cerebral
functions are for the time annihilated, the spinal ones are
violently excited. In the same manner are explained all
the varied phenomena of hysteria and spinal irritation, for
inasmuch as the spinal cord furnishes, directly or indirectly,
nerves to every organ of the body, so congestion of this or
that portion of it may increase, pervert, or diminish the
functions of the nerves it gives off, and the organs which
they supply. Congestion, therefore, we conceive to be
the chief cause of functional nervous disorders originating-
in the great cerebro-spinal centre.
2. Structural Derangements of the Nervous System.—
The various parts of the nervous system, being furnished
with blood-vessels, are subject to most of the diseases of
nutrition. The brain and spinal cord are especially liable
to those lesions which produce effusion, extravasation,
exudation, morbid growths, and degenerations of texture.
The effects these occasion are identically the same in kind
as those caused by simple pressure, or from the other cir¬
cumstances to be referred to. In their mode of onset,
however, they exhibit a difference. Thus, as a general
rule, haemorrhage is indicated by suddenness of attack,
acute exudations, by local pain, with fever, chronic exuda¬
tions and tumours, by gradual perversion of the mental,
sensitive, and motor functions in various ways and degrees,
according to the part affected. Intelligence suffers in pro¬
portion to the extent and nearness of the disease to the
hemispherical ganglion, and motion according as the cere¬
bral and vertebral portions of the spinal cord are influenced.
Occasionally, after more or less impairment of intellect,
sudden paralysis appears; a result attributable to the rup¬
ture or deliquescence of tubes which have been already
softened, but not sufficiently so to interrupt their power as
conductors of the nervous force. Instances, indeed, have
been recorded where complete destruction of one half of
the brain, or of the whole thickness of the spinal cord, is
said to have occurred, in which no paralysis or other symptom
has been caused; but it is certain that numerous tubes in
such cases were intact during life, and capable of transmit¬
ting impressions.
3. Diastaltic or Keflex Derangements of the Nervous
System.—We have previously seen that recent researches
render it probable that the actions hitherto denominated
reflex are in fact direct; only that the impression which is
conveyed commences in the circumference of the body,
instead of in the nervous centres. There is every reason
to believe that such impressions pass through the cord by
means of conducting nerve fibres, which cross from one
side of that organ to the other, and that histology will yet
demonstrate that all these apparently confused actions are
dependent on the existence of certain uniform conducting
media. Indeed, already we can judge with tolerable exac¬
titude from the effects, what are the particular nerves and
segments of the cord which are influenced during a variety
of actions ; and notwithstanding the immense difficulties of
the inquiry, we have every hope that the period is not
distant when the diagnosis of many more reflex acts will
also be rendered certain. The principle involved in all
these acts is, that the irritation which produces them is to
be sought for in the nervous extremities rather than in
lesions of the centres; and the great importance of this
principle in pathology and in practice cannot be too highly
estimated, although, for the numerous details which illus-
702
PHYSIOLOGY.
Physiology trate it, we must refer to a previous part of this article, and
^ v — J especially to the works of Dr Marshall Hall. We would
point to traumatic tetanus, and to the convulsions resulting
from teething and gastric derangements in children, as
good examples of diastaltic functional disorders. Numerous
symptoms which accompany organic changes belong to the
same category. In other words, the structural lesion consti¬
tutes the irritant, or cause, while the effect is functional.
4. Toxic Derangements of the Nervous System.- 1 he in¬
fluence exercised by certain drugs is of a kind which causes
a close resemblance to various diseases of the nervous
system. These influences, if carried to excess, are toxic,
and dangerous to life; if employed moderately, and with
caution, they constitute the basis of our therapeutic know¬
ledge in a vast variety of diseases. Why one drug should
possess one power, and another a different one; or why
some should influence the brain, and others the spinal cord
or nerves, we are ignorant. Such facts are as much ulti¬
mate facts in therapeutics as are the separate endowments
of contractility and sensibility in physiology. As patholo¬
gical causes of functional disorders of the nervous system,
their power is undoubted. By their means the five classes
of nervous disorders may be occasioned in different
ways, producing altogether distinct and peculiar effects.
Thus—
Toxic Cerebral Derangements are occasioned by opium
and most of the pure narcotics, which first excite and then
depress or destroy the mental faculties. According to
Flourens, opium acts on the cerebral lobes, while belladonna
operates on the corpora quadrigemina. The first causes
contraction, and the last dilatation of the pupils. Tea and
coffee are pure exciters of the cerebral functions, and cause
sleeplessness. Alcoholic drinks, (ether, chloroform, and
similar stimulants, first excite and then suspend the mental
faculties, like opium. The modern practice of depriving
persons of consciousness, in order for a time to destroy
sensation, has been very much misunderstood in conse¬
quence of such remedies having been erroneously and un¬
scientifically denominated anaesthetics. The fact is, they
in no wray influence local sensibility, or the sense of touch.
Their action is altogether cerebral; and hence the danger
which has frequently attended their action.
Toxic Spinal Derangements.—Strychnine acts especially
as an exciter of the motor filaments of the spinal cord,
causing tonic muscular contractions, as in tetanus from
spinal arachnitis, or from the diastaltic action of a w ound.
Woorari produces exactly an opposite effect, causing
paralysis and resolution of the same parts. Conium para¬
lyses the motor and sensitive spinal nerves, producing
paraplegia, commencing at the feet, and creeping upwards.
Picrotoxme, according to Dr Mortimer Glover, causes the
animal to stagger backwards, as in the experiments of Ma-
gendie on the crura cerebelli.
DISEASES OF REPRODUCTION.
These consist in the various alterations which may oc¬
cur in the different stages of the generative functions, and
include,—ls£, Diseases which arrest or modify ovulation ;
2d, Diseases, nutritive or nervous, which impede fecunda¬
tion, and occasion barrenness in the female, or impotence
in the male ; 3c?, Diseases of the embryo, causing various
kinds of monsters, from arrest or excess of development in
one or more of its parts. This last subject is now generally
studied under the name of teratology (repas, monster), and
has in recent times become a very extensive one. Con¬
genital malformations of the foetus were formerly considered
as indicative of some misfortune,—as the effect of witch¬
craft, or as offsprings of the evil spirit. They are now not
only recognised to originate in natural derangements of
embryonal development, but the laws which govern such
derangements have to a great extent been determined.
From these it has become evident that monstrosities are
not the result of chance, but are always governed by altera¬
tions in the known processes which regulate reproduction,
and the evolution of the ovum and its contents. Hence
in this, as in every other disordered condition, the real
source of the abnormality is to be sought for, not only in
the investigation of that condition itself, but in the know¬
ledge, first, of the healthy or physiological state; and
secondly, of the manner in which it has become deranged.
In all our inquiries, it must be apparent that disease is mor¬
bid physiology ; and such is the aspect in which we have en¬
deavoured to place it before the reader.
ON DEATH.
Death is the permanent cessation of those properties and
functions which constitute life. In this wide sense, it must
be apparent that the textures are continually dying, in the
same manner that they are continually being generated.
What we have described as the fourth stage of nutrition
essentially consists in the removal of the particles of the
body which have been worn out,—fulfilled their functions,
and died. Thus, death is molecular, cellular, fibrous, or
tubular, in proportion as these various organic elements
become degenerated, and disappear to make way for others
which enjoy activity or life, and in their turn die, enter
into new chemical combinations, and are excreted like their
predecessors. In the more common acceptation of the
term, however, death may be considered as partial or
general. Partial death of the animal body is caused by
those diseases or injuries which produce mortification, and
ulceration in soft, and necrosis and caries in the hard parts,
to a greater or less extent. Of this we have already spoken,
and therefore need only treat of general death of the sys¬
tem. This has been variously considered as natural or
Physiology
[juie on tiie crura cereoem. .icm. * mo uao   — -----
Toxic Cerebro-Spinal Derangements.—Of these, the ynnatural; by the former meaning death from old age or
poisonous effects of hydrocyanic acid offer a good example.
All the animals we have seen killed by this agent utter a
scream, lose their consciousness, and are convulsed. These
are the symptoms of epilepsy. Cold is at first an exciter
of the spinal functions, and is a strong stimulant to dia¬
staltic activity, but if long continued, produces drowsiness
and stupor.
Toxic Neural and Neuro-Spinal Derangements are es¬
pecially occasioned by the action of certain metallic poisons,
such as mercury, which occasions irregular muscular action,
with weakness; and lead, which causes numbness and
palsy, most common in the hands. On the other hand,
cantharides stimulates the contractions of the neck of the
urinary bladder, and secale Sornulum those of the pregnant
uterus. Stramonium acts as a sedative to the nerves of
the bronchi; while aconite operates powerfully in paralysing
the action of the heart. ^
gradual decay, and by the latter, death from diseases or
violence. case» fieath may be gradual or sud¬
den, and fie ineuMHby a great variety of agents. It may
be said, howede^that all the modes of death are reducible
to three, viz.,—1st, Death by syncope,—that is, beginning
at thq heart; 2d, Death by asphyxia, beginning at the
lungs ; and 3c?, Death by coma, beginning at the brain.
Death by Syncope.—All causes which arrest the action
of the heart occasion stoppage of the circulation; a cir¬
cumstance which interferes with the due performance of the
vital functions; and death is the consequence. It may oc-
cut' through the nervous system, through feebleness of the
muscular walls of the heart itself, or through loss of blood.
As examples of the first method of causing syncope, may
be cited concussion, or all sudden shocks to the system,—
as from violent blows or injuries, extensive lesions, violent
ental emotions, a stroke of lightning, exposure to the sun
P I A
Piacenza.^ (or coup de soleil), and certain poisons which, acting espe-
^cially on nerves going to the heart, paralyse its rhythmical
motions, as aconite, digitalis, &c. Syncope from feeble¬
ness of the muscular walls is illustrated by the effects of
long-continued violent exertion, starvation, and disease of
its textures, especially that now recognised as fatty de¬
generation, one of the most common causes of sudden
death. Lastly, excessive loss of blood, whether from direct
external injury to a large vessel, sudden bursting of an in¬
ternal vascular tumour or aneurism, disease of the coats of
an artery or vein, leading to sudden or to long-continued
loss of blood, are among the frequent causes of syncope.
Death by Asphyxia.—T\\\s is produced by all causes
which interrupt the act of respiration, or the access of oxy¬
gen, so necessary for carrying on the nutritive functions,
and has been previously referred to. It is now ascertained
that mere obstruction of air does not immediately act upon
the heart, which not only continues to contract for a time,
but even sends venous blood through the arterial system.
From the numerous investigations which have been made
to determine in what manner the vital actions are arrested
in asphyxia, it would appear that at first non-aerated or
venous blood passes freely through the lungs to the heart,
from whence it goes to all parts of the system. It operates
on the brain, however, as a poison, rapidly suspending the
sensorial functions. 1 he capillaries of the lung next refuse
to transmit non-oxygenated blood, in consequence of which
it is not returned to the right side of the heart, and thus
t e vital actions cease. These effects are produced with
greater or less rapidity, according as the occlusion of air is
more perfect, as in cases of drowning and strangulation.
In diseases of the heart and lungs, the same results are pro¬
duced more slowly. The only poisons which operate upon
the lungs directly causing asphyxia are certain so-called poi-
sonous gases, such as carbonic acid gas, the fatal effects of
which, however, are not so much to be ascribed to any noxi¬
ous properties it possesses, as to the absence of free oxygen.
P I A
Death by Coma.—This is caused by all circumstances
which suspend the sensorial functions by first operating on
the brain. We observe it produced from the long-continued
action of cold, from the influence of narcotic poisons, espe¬
cially opium and chloroform, and from such injuries of the
brain, froin without or within, as are not necessarily con¬
nected with shock. If a violent blow be given to the head
of an animal, it may be observed to suffer from shock or
syncope; the heart flutters, and the pulse is weak. But
fl it recover from this, the heart’s action may be restored,
ulnlst sensation is suspended, and it dies comatose. If
shock be avoided during the operation, the brain of an
amma! may be removed producing coma or stupefaction,
which will ultimately kill, although for some time the cir¬
culation and respiration continue. In apoplexies, fevers,
and other diseases, similar effects are observable.
Ft should not be overlooked that death in many cases is
produced by a conjunction, or by the rapidly-following
i esults of two or all three of these modes. Thus chloro-
orm may kill from the conjoined Stupefying action on the
brain, as well as from difficulty of respiration. Coma, from
pressure on the brain, may, by influencing the medulla ob¬
longata, affect the pneumo-gastric nerves, which send
branches to the heart and lungs. In this case, death is the
most rapid—occurring in all three ways. Hence the hu¬
mane effort of the hangman not only to produce strangu-
ation, but by dislocation of the bones of the neck to crush
the upper part of the spinal cord.
The preceding observations evidently indicate that, in
our endeavours to produce recovery from either of these
states, much will depend upon the correct information we
derive as to the causes producing them. In syncope, our
efforts will be directed to restore the action of the heart by
stimuli, a proper position, checking haemorrhage, &c.; in
asphyxia, to reproduce respiration ; and in coma, to remove
any cause which, by pressure on the brain from without or
within, interferes with its functions. (j. h. b t.)
703
Piano-
Forte.
PIACENZA (anc. Placentia, Fr. Plaisance), a town
of Italy, capital of a province of the same name in the
duchy of Parma, stands about half a mile from the S.
bank of the Po, 2 miles below its confluence with the
Trebbia, 37 miles W.N.W. of Parma, and about as far
S.E. of Milan. It is of an oblong form, surrounded by
ancient walls and ditches, and defended by a citadel which
is garrisoned, according to a provision of the Congress of
Vienna, with Austrian troops. The streets are in general
broad and straight, but dull and deserted; and the grass
that grows in many of the thoroughfares shows that the town
is much too large for its present population. The most
busy part is near the principal square, called Piazza de Ca-
valli, from the equestrian statues in bronze ofAllessandro and
Kanuccio Farnese, dukes of Parma. In this square is the
ducal palace and the town-house, an edifice built by the mer¬
chants of Piacenza in 1281, in a mixed stylf of architecture,
and considered one of the finest buildings of the kind of that
century. The cathedral of Piacenza, consecrated in 1132,
is a fine building in the ancient Lombard style. In the
interior, which is adorned with massive pillars supporting
wide-spreading arches, there are many fine painSngs by
various artists. Of the numerous other churches of Pia¬
cenza, many are very fine, both from their architecture and
the paintings with which they are adorned. The Farnese
palace, designed by Vignola, was once a most splendid edi'£
ce, but it is incomplete; and is now used for barracks,
mong the other public buildings are the governor^ house,
the custom-house, and the court-house. Piacenza contains'.-
a college with a library of 30,000 volumes, an episcopal
seminal y, several schools, two theatres, a hospital, orph;
asylums, and manv other charitable institutions. It is™
see of a bishop, and the seat of a court of appeal and in¬
ferior tribunals. The manufactures of the town consist of
woollen and cotton cloth, silk, hosiery, hats, and earthen¬
ware. Some trade is carried on in cattle and agricultural
produce. The ramparts are now partly used as a public
walk, and from them may be obtained some fine views,—
with the Alps and the Apennines in the distance; the
city, with its magnificent buildings, in the foreground; and
the broad stream of the Po appearing here and there, with
its numerous willow-covered islands. The origin of the
Placentia is doubtful, being ascribed by some to
the Gauls, and by others to the Etruscans. It is of no
historical importance before 219 b.c., when it became a
Koman colony. It remained faithful to Rome during the
second Punic war, which was then raging, and resisted an
attack of Hasdrubal. In the year 200 it was taken and
p undered by the Gauls, but it soon recovered from this ca-
lamity. After the irruptions of the northern barbarians,
Placentia was one of the first cities that recovered its pro¬
sperity ; and it became in the tenth century a place of
considerable commerce. It was for some time independent;
but after being subject to several lords in succession, it
came into the hands of the Visconti of Milan. In 1447
Piacenza revolted from the Milanese, but was retaken in
the same year by Francesco Sforza. Under him and his
successors it remained until Louis XII. of France took it.
At was then retaken by Pope Julius II., and retained by
*ne Papal See, till, along with Parma, of which duchy it
has since formed a part, it was transferred to the Farnese
family. Pop. 30,500.
BTHANO-FORTE, a well-known modern instrument, in
t le immediate sonorous bodies are wires of brass
r*~:
704 PIANO-
Piano- and steel. It has completely usurped the place of the old
Forte, harpsichord, upon which it is a great improvement. It
has undergone many modifications, which are too numerous
to be noticed here. The merit of its invention is disputed
by the Italians and the Germans. Count G. R. Carli, in his
works printed at Milan in 1784—1794, states (in vol. xiv.,
p. 405), that the piano-forte was invented in 1718, by Bar¬
tolommeo Cristofori of Padua, during his stay in Florence.
The count speaks indignantly of the forgetfulness of the
Italians regarding their own inventions:—“Della quale
inventione. ci siamo scordati a segno, che 1’abbiam creduta
una nuova cosa, allorche ci venne dalla Germania e dall
Inghilterra, accogliendola come una singolare produzione
di quelle felici region!, destinate ad illuminarci con i lumi
presi dagl’ Italiani.” On the other hand, the Germans assert
that it was invented about the year 1717, by C. A. Schrce-
ter, a German organist, and that it was afterwards improved
by Silbermann, G. A, Stein, and others. lo the Rev.
William Mason, the English poet, is ascribed the important
improvement of detaching the hammer entirely from the
key, and giving to them only a momentary connection
when the key is struck by the finger. The English
makers have gained great repute by their excellent piano¬
fortes. Those of Broadwood are distinguished by a rich
soft tone, well suited for accompanying the voice. Erard s
possess a more powerful and brilliant tone, and are better
suited for the public performer of piano-forte sonatas, con¬
certos, &c. The horizontal piano-fortes are those most
used, as being the best. The origin of the vertical piano¬
forte may be found in Pere Mersenne’s Harmonicorum libri
xii., 1652, folio; in which there is an engraving of a simi¬
larly formed instrument of an ancient date. We consider
the modern extreme extension of the compass of the piano¬
forte, both grave and acute, as detrimental to the best
effects of the instrument. (On this subject, and as to the
true powers of the pianoforte, see the' article Music, vol.
xv., pp. 740-741.) An Italian writer informs us, that in
the beginning of the present century he had played upon
many piano-fortes of a compass of six octaves and a half,
made by Antonio Gherardi of Parma.
We quote the following interesting remarks by Mr
Thalberg, which were printed in the reports by the juries
of the Exhibition of 1851, pp. 326-329:—“To give an
idea of the degree of perfection attained at the present day
in the construction of the piano, we will describe one of
the grand pianos in the Exhibition. This instrument is 8£
feet in length, and 4£ feet in its greatest width ; its frame
is of enormous strength compared with the instruments of
former times, being heavily braced with wood below the
strings, having a complete system of metallic bracing above
the strings firmly abutted, and consisting of longitudinal
bars let into metal at each end, and having the curved side
formed of a number of separate pieces glued together in a
mould, to insure durability and fixedness of form. Its
sounding-board extends to the frame on all sides, except
the space left for the action. The stringy are made en¬
tirely of steel, and of wire so thick that the tension neces¬
sary to bring them to the proper pitch produces an aggre¬
gate strain equal to at least 12 tons weight, while they are
passed through studs drilled into the metal-wrest plank,
thus giving the strings an upbearing position, which pre¬
vents the slightest displacement of the point of contact by
any force of the hammers ; and the system of placing the
strings on the instrument, determined by accurate acoustic
experiment, causes them to be struck by the hammer at that
precise nodical point which produces the freest arad clear¬
est tone. The compass is extended to seven octaves from
A to ^4. The action of this piano is described by Df Gard¬
ner, in a work just published on Mechanics, as a beautiful
example of complex leverage in the mechanism which con-*
nects the key and hammer. In this instrument th® object|
forte.
is, to convey from the point where the fingers act upon the Piano-
key to that at which the hammer acts upon the string, all Forte,
the delicacy of action of the finger ; so that the piano may
participate to a certain extent in that sensibility of touch
which is observable in the harp, and which is the conse¬
quence of the finger acting immediately on the string in
that instrument, without the intervention of any other me¬
chanism. The power of this instrument, depending on the
quantity of matter brought into vibration ; the resonance, or
the perfection of that vibration, depending on the correct
proportions of its parts ; and the accuracy of intonation,
depending on the nature of the bridging, the proportions of
the strings, and their arrangement with regard to the blow
of the hammer,—are all most admirable ; while the action,
depending on the peculiar mechanism employed, far sur¬
passes everything else of the kind, for it enables the player
to communicate to the strings all that the finest-formed
and most skilful hand can express ; and becomes as it were
a part of himself, reflecting every shade of his feelings
from the most powerful to the softest and most delicate
sounds. This action is indeed so perfect, particularly in
its power of delicate repetition, that if any note is missed
in execution upon it, it is the fault of the player and not
of the instrument. Many persons have a very meagre
notion of the power of expression possessed by the piano¬
forte. The fact is, however, that it really possesses almost
all those elements of expression which belong to any other
instrument, and several which are peculiar to itself, from
the circumstance of the various parts of music adapted to
the instrument being brought out by the same hand and
same feeling. An immense difference of volume of tone
and of effect is produced by the manner of touching the
keys and by the use of the pedals, especially upon an in¬
strument of great power, fine quality of tone, and delicate
mechanism in the action. The manufacture of the piano
as a branch of trade is of very great importance, from the
superior character of the principal workmen, and the vast
numbers employed, directly and indirectly, in connection
with it. In all the cities of the civilized world there are
numerous makers of this instrument, with immense num¬
bers of workmen ; and in most secondary towns throughout
Europe there are small makers; whilst the increase of the
number of pianos, compared with the population, is every
year more rapid, a circumstance which is not observed in re¬
gard to other musical instruments. This is corroborated by
the fact, that some years ago piano-forte music constituted
only a very modest portion of a music-seller’s stock;
whereas now it fills more than three-quarters of his shelves,
and makes his chief business. The number of teachers is
something wonderful; many are reduced ladies, who find
in this exercise of their acquirements the most available
means of support. Every professional pianist has often
had occasion to exercise his kindly and generous feelings in
recommending and assisting accomplished women, whose
helpless families would otherwise have been utterly desti¬
tute, The social importance of the piano is, beyond all
question, far greater than that of any other instrument of^
music. One of the most marked changes in the habits of
society, as civilization advances, is with respect to the cha¬
racter of its amusements. Formerly nearly all such amuse¬
ments were away from home and in public; now with the
more educated portion of society the greater part is at
home, and within the family circle ; music on the piano
contributing the principal portion of it, In the more fa¬
shionable circles of cities, private concerts increase year
by year, and in them the piano is the principal feature.
Many a man engaged in commercial and other active pur¬
suits finds the chief charm of his drawing-room in the in¬
tellectual enjoyment afforded by the piano. In many
parts of Europe this instrument is the greatest solace of the
studious and solitary. Even steam and sailing vessels for
P I A
P'T Et"®7S°n 'on« vo>’!,Ses are now obliged, by the fixed
Pia"h'- ransferl TS’'0 be fu™is'>od with piano-fortes ; thus
transferring to the ocean itself cnmatf.;*,™  ,
PIC
transfprrino- f lu ^tmsneu wnn piano-fortes ; thus
of home g- he °Cea^ ltSelf something of the character
never vi,bTmentS- By the USe of the ?“"■> who
ever visit the opera or concerts become thoroughly ac-
sitionfd t!leflchoicest dramatic and orchestral compo-
them hn/eISf °f the piano is not confined to
towns have Xffn S toad c^assos; and while considerable
towns have often no orchestras, families possess the best
comnoseitiSoUbStlt TK maki,ng them familiar ^with the finest
am 1 V nS ^16 study °f such compositions, and the
apphcation necessary for their proper execution, may be,
ought to be, made the means of greatly improving
dentfa^T ,uedUCati°naI and tastes of' pJo stu?
to that refi ^ exJrting an elevating influence, in addition
penses!” fined and 6 6gant Pleasure which it directly dis-
f ao island in the Mediterranean, belono-ing
40 fromT’ 168 ab°Ut 10mileS S-S*W- 0f Elba’ and nearly
ZlrZ |;e nearest point of the mainland. It is 3 miles
long by 2^ broad, and is about 10 miles in circuit. The
urface is low; but it is fertile and well wooded, and is
chiefly inhabited by fishermen. In the island are granite
quarries probably worked in the time of the Romans^ when
it was cal led/3lanasia. It was here that Postumus A grippa
by 0rder ofeTihy USU^US’ ^ afterwards Pu‘ "death
y order of Tiberius. Pianosa was annexed to Elba and
gr P*r ^Napoleon after his first abdication.
the N bv thepai?r°TinCe of BraziI’ bounded on
Pernambuco ^ E' f Provinces of Ceara and
thaf of M ’ ?* by,.th°f of Babia and Goyaz, and W. by
that of Maranhao, lies between S. Lat. 2. 42. and 11 20Y
W Long. 40. 30. and 47. The length of the coast-line is
for XuAmI ? “"“j ““ Provin« stretcl.es inland
tor Eibout 400 miles, and has, a very considerable breadth
in the interior. Its area is 109,668 square miles. On the
. and S. fiontiers it is bounded by mountain ranges • the
lera^d H^biapaba seParating it from Ceara, and the Cordil-
ti nCd01B°lb0rema frT Pernambuco. From these moun¬
tains the country gradually slopes towards the bed of the
Parnahiba the only large river in the province, which it
. eparates from that of Maranhao. The river Piauhi, from
winch the province derives its name, originates in the
southern frontier, and, running northward through pasture
ands enters the Caninde, an affluent of the ParXhi£a 50
miles below Oeiras, the capital, after a course of 140 miles
Ws Tib ° SerraS °f ^ consequ^^, nor any large
loiests, in this province. It consists of vast grassy plains
httle wooded, but in which numerous tall herbs attest the
and"^ °f tbe sun- Originally the province was explored
and subdued on account of its pastures, and not for the sake
rals nrmT fT ^ sess.inS mines °f the precious mine-
s oi metals, for in these it appears to be deficient. Iron,
wnt silver, and other minerals are found, but very little
worked. Horses and cattle still form the chief riches of
e country. It is to Piauhi that the neighbouringpro-
vmces of Pernumbuco, Maranhao, Bahia, and Minas (femes
sufferslledy (f0r ?eir S,Upply °f catt]e- Piailbi occasionafly
tWnnS y rT drought; but the evils consequent
trees ""n ,ame iora^d by the presence of several
inicl Tn yr d abundance of grateful and wholesome
generally ,s.1war.m and dry; and the soil, being
Rice 1 and fertlle’ IS well adapted for cultivation,
lice, tobacco and sugar are raised near the rivers and
!hp m here abundance of water can be obtained ; and in
g own^Tr iegl°nS miIlet’ mandioc’ a»d cotton are
a branch of thf y ln the pi'°vinCe is Parnahiba, on
is camed on in h 7r the Same name’ wbcre some trade
on a small /r h r ^ ^ °eiraS’tbe caPitaI> sta»ds
Maranhao I isTmall tkh ff20 mileS ^ °f
VOL. xyii ’ 1 br°ad but unPaved streets,
and neat whitewashed houses, and contains several churches
and schools. It is the seat of the provincial legislature of
the governor of Piauhi, and other ifficials. Some Irlde k
cained on in cattle and agricultural produce. Pop. (with '
the surrounding district) 6000. Piauhi is divided into six
comarcas. It has a provincial assembly of twenty-eight
members, and appoints to the general legislature of Braz
one senator and two deputies. Pop. (1856) 150,400.
PIAZZA, a town of Sicily, in the province of Caltani
as S ES ES TfCalf01^6 n"11’ ^ °f Te™ova, and
as far L.S.E. of Cal amsetta. It is the see of a bishop • and
contains a cathedral and many other churches, seveml con¬
vents, a school, hospital, &c. Woollen cloth and caps are
manufactured; and some trade is carried on in grain oil
fruits, &c. Pop. 13,000. S ’ ’
PIAZZETTA, Giovanni Batista, an Italian painter
was born at Venice in 1682. His first lessons in ate were
received from his father, a statuary in wood. But it was
not untfl he had studied the works of Guercino at Bologna
that Ins characteristic style was formed. In spite of a
mannered and monotonous colouring and a hasty execution
bis pictures there became notable for a strong^ontrast of
ig it and shadow, and a boldness of relief. He produced
pleasing altar-pieces; he succeeded admirably in several
caricatures ; and he was especially excellent in painting
busts and heads. The consequence was, that he rose into
lg 1 p Pirte’ ,Many blowers gathered around him. Pit-
ten, Pelh, and Monaco engraved several of his pictures.
He was also appointed director of the Academv of Paintimr
111 Pi AnvvVre ^ty’ a P°St Which be held d11 his d*eath in 1754.
Pin f oGl ™EPPI- See Astronomy, History of.
VILA, bee Mirandola.
PICARD, Jean, an eminent French astronomer, was
born at Fleche 1620? and became pr.est and e ^was
Rille in Anjou. His knowledge of astronomy early attracted
notice. On the 25th of August 1645 he^as emp]0yedd
along wuh Gassendi, in observing the solar eclipse I in
Iboo he was appointed to the astronomical chair in the
College of France; and in 1666 he Mas selected by Col¬
bert to assist in founding the Academy of Sciences Pi¬
card, however, was destined to become still better known
toi ins improvements in practical geometry. In 1667
along with Auzout, he was the first to apply a telescope to
the quadrant in the measurement of angles. It was his
good fortune, shortly afterwards, to introduce the modern
method of determining the right ascension of the stars by
employing a pendulum to note the instant of their meridional
pussages. He brought this list of improvements to a close
in ibbJ, by making the first exact measurement of a degree
of the meridian. So great indeed were his services to
science, that by the time of his death in 1682 he was
worthy of being considered the father of French astronomy
I he principal works of Picard are La Mesure de la Terre
Pans, 1671; loyage d'Uranibourg, Paris, 1680; Observa¬
tions Astronomiques faites en divers Endroits du Royaume •
Observations faites d Baionne, Bordeaux, et Royan peii-
dant l Annee 1680; and La Connaissance des Temps
I here are also several contributions by him in the sixth
and seventh volumes of the Memoirs of the Academy of
Sciences. (See Delambre’s Histoire de VAstronomic, and
his article Jean Picard ” in the Biographic Universe lie.)
Picard, Loms-Benoit, a celebrated French comic
dramatist was born in Paris in July 1769. Although
educated for the law, he soon abandoned everv pursuit to
give himself up entirely to writing for the stage. His
ready activity in this new profession was almost unparal¬
leled. He brought into play a fertile brain, a happy skill
in sketching manners, a lively wit, a great knowledge of
scenic effect, and an abundant flow of diction. Prose
comedies, poetical comedies, comic operas, were produced
in rapid succession to delight the theatres. The business
4 u
705
Piazza
„ II
Picard.
706
P I c
Picards of actor, which he undertook in 1797, and that °f theatrical
|| manager, which he began not long afterwards, 4d not
Piccim. withdraw him from the literature of the stage.
—V—' tinned to write until he had produced more than seven
dramas. Death only put an end to Ins rndustry m 1828
The best, though still incomplete collection of PmaHis
plays, was that published in 10 yols. |™,
plementary volume, in 8vo, was issued in 183 .
the authorof Xe Gil-Blasde U, Revolution and other noves.
PICARDS, a religious sect which arose in Rohemia
the thirteenth century. (See Adamites.) founded
PICARDY, an ancient province of France, was i°u.nde
on the N. and E. by the Strait of Dover, and the provinces
of Artois, Flanders, and Champagne ; S. by that of R e
France; and W. by that of Normandy It is "ow mcluded
in the departments of Aisne, Ardennes, Oise, Pas-de-Cala ,
^pfeemi, Nicolo, a celebrated composer of music, was
born in 1728, at Bari, in the kingdom of Naples. In J\ y
1742 he was placed under Leo, in th conservatory of
Sant’ Onofrio, at Naples. Leo dying soon afterwards, his
successor Durante took charge of Piccim as a ^vount®
pupil. In 1754 Piccini left the conservatory, ami began to
compose operas for the Teatro Fiorentmo. His success
was ^so great that he was engaged to write for the San
Carlo theatre ; and in 1758 was7/cai;ei.t0 Rom^0^™h
pose the music of Alessandro nelle Indie, an opera which
he re-composed in 1775 at Naples. He revisited Rome in
1760, and composed La Cecchina, ossia la buona fighuola,
which was received with rapture, and was soon after heaid
in every theatre of Italv, to the exclusion of all other operas.
In 1756 he married Vincenza Sibilla, formerly one of his
pupils in singing. She bore him several children. In¬
duced by promises held out to him by the Neapolitan am¬
bassador at Paris, Piccini went thither at the close of 17 <b.
Not knowing a word of French, he had infinite difficulty in
setting to music the opera of Roland; and, to add to his
annoyances, Gluck raised a violent cabal against him, and
endeavoured to prevent Roland from being performed.
Nevertheless, Roland was performed in 17.' 8, and received
with great applause. He then composed Phaon, Atys,
Iphigenie en Tauride, and Adele de Ponthieu. Sac-
chini’s arrival in Paris led to the forming of another party
against Piccini. The court ordered a grand opera from
each of the composers. Piccini produced his Zhmm, and
Sacchini his Chimene. Both were admired, but especially
the Didon, which is Piccini’s best French opera. In I t 84
he was appointed singing-master in the royal school of
music and declamation. He wrote fifteen operas for the
French theatre; but at last, suffering from injustice and
neglect, and from the loss of a large sum due to him by t le
banker La Borde, he left France with his family in July
1791, and reached Naples in September. There he com¬
posed, in 1792, his oratorio of Jonathan, the best of his
serious works. The marriage of one of his daughters with
a young Frenchman settled at Naples exposed him to per¬
secution. Two of his old pupils denounced him as a Jaco¬
bin, and the minister ordered him to remain shut up in his
house. At the same time, he learned that everything he had
left at Paris, including his Scores, was lost. He remained
for four years in neglect and poverty. His friends in Pans
encouraged him to return thither; and accoidingly he
arrived there on 3d December 1798. 1 he French govern¬
ment granted him 7400 francs a year, and apartments in
the Hotel d’Angivilliers, wLere part of his family soon re¬
joined him. Through the good offices of the First Consul
Bonaparte, he was appointed inspector of the Conservatory
of Music; but the boon arrived too late—he was dying.
He expired at Passy on the 7th May 1800, and was interred
in the common burying-ground. Only those who have
studied the operas of Piccini, Sacchini, Gluck, and Mozart,
PIC
know how much the latter composer was indebted to the Piccolo-
other three. The musical wars carried on in Pans by the
partizans of Gluck, Piccini, and Sacchini are narrated
in various publications, such as Marmontel’s Memoires, &c.; v
Gincmene’s Lettres, &c., 1783, 8vo ; and his Notice sur la
Vie °et les Ouvrages de Piccini, 1800, 8yo. Piccim com¬
posed seventy-nine operas, comic and serious; several ora¬
torios, of which the best are Jonathan and Sara ; a num¬
ber of pieces of church music; romances and canzonets,
published at Paris in Desormery and Bouffet’s Journal de
Chant el de Piano, 1799. F-G;)
PICCOLOMINI, Alessandro, Archbishop of 1 alias,
was a native of Siena, where he was born about the year
1508 being descended of an ancient and illustrious family,
which came originally from Rome. He composed with
success for the theatre ; but he was more distinguished tor
his genius than for the purity of his manners and his re¬
gard to virtue. His charity was great, and chiefly exerted
in relieving the necessities of men of letters. He left be¬
hind him a number of works in Italian, the most remarkable
of which are,—various Opere Dramatiche, which laid the
first foundation of his character as a writer; Un Lraite
della Sphera ; Una Theoria delle Planete ; a translation
of Aristotle’s Art of Rhetoric and Poetry, m 4to ; and
Institutione Morale, published at Venice, 1575 m 4to
translated into French by Pierre de Larivey, and printed
at Paris, 1581, in 4to. These, with a variety of other
works, prove his extensive knowledge in natural philosophy,
mathematics, and theology. He was the first who made
use of the Italian language in writing upon philosophic3
subjects. He died at Siena on the 12th of March 15 < 8, at
the age of seventy. , ,
PICCOLOMINI, Francesco, of the same family with the
preceding, was born in the year 1520, and taught philosophy
with success for the space of twenty-two years, at Siena,
Perugia, and Padua. He afterwards retired to Siena,
where he died in 1604, at the age of eighty-four. ihis
city went into mourning on the occasion of his death. His
works are,—Some Commentaries upon Aristotle, printed at
Mayence, 1608, in 4to; and Universa Philosophia de
Moribus, printed at Venice, 1583, in folio. The latter is
his principal work. He laboured to revive the doctrines o
Plato, and endeavoured also to imitate the manners of that
philosopher. He had as his principal rival the famous Za-
barella, whom he excelled in thcility of expression an d neat¬
ness of discourse, but to whom he was much inferior in
P°PICENUM, an ancient province of Italy, was bounded
on the N. by the Galli Senones, on the W. by the Um¬
brians and Sabines, on the S. by the Vestim, and on the
E. by the Adriatic Sea. It was a country of romantic
beauty. The line of the Apennines ran along the western
frontier. A series of heights, shooting oft from the eastern
side of this central branch, and undulating gradually down¬
wards to the sea-shore, occupied the entire district. Ex¬
tensive forests waved on the ridges, fruitful orchaids and
olive-yards basked on the slopes, and fertilizing mountain
streams meandered through the valleys. In that delight u
region the Picentes seem, during the early periods of their
recorded history, to have enjoyed considerable prosperity.
They remained long in undisturbed tranquillity, w n e ie
neighbouring tribes were vainly struggling against t re a -
usurping ambition of Rome. That power condescen e in
299 b.c. to enter into an alliance with them. Even w ren
they were at length obliged, in 268 B.C., to bow before t ie
resistless destinies of the Romans, they suffered little in¬
jury. It was not until the outbreak of the Social War, m
90”b.C., that the Picentes appear to have experienced the
toils and calamities of a great struggle. Then they assumed
an active and zealous part in the general revolt against
Rome. Their capital city, Asculum, gave the signal of in-
PIC
Picerno
surrection by assassinating the Roman proconsul. Their
Pichegru. ar1mies ^ePt th® Roman general Cn. Pornpeius Strabo for
a long time at bay. Nor when the tide of battle began to
turn against them did their courage waver. They con¬
tinued to fight until in 89 b.c. they were put down by
sheer force. The history of Picenum after this period con¬
tains little else than an account of the frequent changing of
boundaries of the country. 8
The most important towns of the Picentes were Ancona,
on the sea-coast, and Auximum (Osimo), Asculum (Ascoli),
and Hadria (Atn), in the interior.
PICERNO, a town of Naples, province of Basilicata,
« miles W. of Potenza. It contains a church and a con-
Pop 4000 haS manufactures of silk and woollen goods.
PICHEGRU, Charles, a famous general of the French
republic, was the son of humble parents, and was born in
1761 at Arbois in Franche-Comte. His education was
favourable for the development of his talents. He received
his elementary instruction at the monastery of the Minims.
Alter that he studied mathematics at the college of Brienne
the seminary which the young Napoleon Bonaparte was at
that time attending. Then entering a regiment of artillery
he acquired, as he passed through the several gradations
from a common soldier up to a serjeant-major, a practical
knowledge of military tactics. Thus thoroughly trained,
ichegru only wanted some great opportunity to rise into
notice. Accordingly, no sooner had the French revolution
broken out and the army of the Rhine received him within
its ranks than a career of distinction opened up before him.
He rapidly rose by the several steps of promotion to the
post of general of division. His growing fame then re¬
commended him, in 1793, as a fit person for the chief com¬
mand of the expedition. Undertaking the precarious task,
he set himself to improve the adverse state of affairs. Dis¬
cipline was enforced, a new system of tactics was intro-
duced, and the self-confidence of the troops was restored.
He led them on to the victory of Haguenau, the relief of
Landau, and the capture of Lauterburg. Still greater was
his success after he had been appointed in 1794 to the
command of the army of the north. His firmness and de¬
cision soon turned the tide of success against the invaders
of his country. The enemies fled befbre him at Cassel
Courtrai, and Menin, and left all West Flanders in his
power Bruges, Bois-le-Duc, and Nimeguen were com¬
pelled to open their gates to his advancing troops. The
waters of the Wahl only checked his victorious career for a
short time, faking advantage of an intense frost which
froze up the rivers, he crossed on the ice, pressed forward
with forced marches, drove the retreating enemy beyond
>e Yesej, took possession of Amsterdam on the 16th
January 1/9o, and thus effected the conquest of Holland.
r 'S-Wf th^!°®e of Pichegru’s military successes, and the
remainder of his life was occupied in endeavouring to effect
the restoration of the Bourbons. Appointed to the com¬
mand of the army of the Rhine, he entered into negotia¬
tions with the Prince Conde for the purpose of overthrow-
ing the republic. Having retired in 1796 from military
life, and having been chosen in 1797 to be president of the
Conned of Five Hundred, he still continued to plot. A
iscovery, a trial, and a banishment to Cayenne did not
divert him from his designs. Escaping from his prescribed
place of exile, he repaired to England only to involve him-
selt in a desperate conspiracy which was destined to end
in his own ruin. In course of time he planned a scheme,
along with George Cadoudal, for the destruction of the
LffedTr/p °f 1 ^ Fl.rst C°nsul 5 and in January 1804 re-
execution Th’ * wthe °?er accompljces, to carry it into
and Indo-pH • th ^ dlscoverecl 5 Ws person was seized,
was fnnnfl " ^ ; and on the 6th April 1804 he
was found strangled in his cell. For a long time afterwards
PIE
707
it was supposed that Pichegru had been murdered by order PickerW
of Napoleon. It is now, however, generally agreed Uiat he II g
ad committed suicide. (For an account of the evidence Pied Lnt
belonging to the case, see France.)
r-rICK? vIN.G7 a raarket-town of England, in the North
S S W nf Wril 26 7ileS N‘N-E- of‘ Y°rk, and 18
S.S.W . of Whitby. It is a long, straggling town ; and con¬
tains a large oM parish church with a tall spire, and an
ekrirlnTp6' -fThe !? wP(TdentS’ Quakers> Swedenbor-
gians, and Primitive and Wesleyan Methodists have places
-r ^ ilere* . Fke tovYn kas aRo a court-house, several
cl ools and a savings-bank. The manufacture of brooms
is largely carried on, the materials being obtained from the
surrounding moors. In the vicinitv «nmo
La,rQ , J; e vlcinity some Roman remains
nave been discovered. Pop. (1851) 2511.
PICO. See Azores.
FlEYOR Fabius. See Fabius Pictor.
cTl lOU, atown of Nova of ^ ^
of the same name, stands on the harbour of Pictou, about
3 miles from us entrance, and 72 miles N.E. of Halifax,
is well built of stone ; and contains, besides other public
ui mgs, an academy, library, and grammar-school. An
extensive and increasing trade is carried on in coal, timber,
L 100 000 116 annUal ValUe °f the exPorts beinS ab°ut
See Caledonia, and Scotland.
PIC1 URE. See Painting.
PIC1URESQUE literally signifies that which is ca¬
pable of, or fitted for, pictorial delineation. (For the various
tneories of the picturesque, see Beauty.)
PIEDIMQNTE, a town of Naples, in the province of
? errf ^ Lav,oro> 21 miles S. W. of Campobasso. It stands
in a lofty and commanding position, and is in general well-
built. It is the seat of a bishop, and contains a feudal
castle, and a palace belonging to the Duke of Laurenzana.
iheie are nurnerous manufactories in the town, including
cotton, paper, flour, fulling, and copper mills. The water¬
power for these mills is supplied by a torrent supposed to
How by a subterranean channel from Lake Matese. The
inhabitants are largely employed in the cultivation of vines
and olives m the neighbourhood; and the wine and oils
produced are excellent, and contribute in a great decree to
the support of the people. Pop. about 7000.
7iEDM0NT,PRINCIPAL1TY0F(Ital. Piemonte, or Pie
ai monte, meaning “ foot of the mountain”), a district of
the continental portion of the Sardinian States, now forming
the divisions of Turin, Coni, Alessandria, Aosta, and No*
vara. On three sides it is inclosed by mountains; by the
  — ** mviuBcu uy muumains; oy tne
Alps on the N. and W., and by the Apennines on the S.;
wlule towards the E. it stretches into the great plain of
Lombardy. Its length from N. to S. is 120 miles, its
breadth nearly 100; area 15,913 square miles. It is a dis¬
tinct physical region shut in by the loftiest chains of the Alps
and Apennines, and forming the upper part of the valley of
t le Po, to which it entirely belongs. The western and larger
portion of Piedmont is mountainous, being occupied with
branches and offsets from the Alps and Apennines, with
numerous upland valleys among them ; and from these high
lands the ground gradually descends in beautifully-waving
slopes to the rich level plains which occupy the east of the
principality. The Po, which rises in this country, receives
within its limits many tributaries. These, though few of
them are navigable, are all of the highest importance to the
country, as an extensive and skilful system of irrio-ation is
carried on by their means. The soil is thus enabled to
produce the richest crops. Wheat, maize, rice, and beans
are the principal articles raised. Wine and fruits are also
produced; and excellent timber is obtained from the forests.
elides agriculture, the people are largely employed in pas¬
toral pursuits, and great numbers of cattle are reared. The
corn produced in Piedmont is more than sufficient for the
708
PIE
Pierides
Calais.
wants of the people, and supplies also the adjacent country
ii alon°- the Mediterranean as far as Toulon.. Some minera s
Pierre-les are obtained in this country; the principal being iron,
marble, copper, and argentiferous lead. Manufactures are
actively carried on; hosiery, linen, woollen, a.nd silken
goods, brandy, glass, and iron, being the chief articles made
here. Besides corn and cattle, silk, wine, wool, iron, &c.,
are exported. The Alpine valleys of Piedmont are cele¬
brated as the country of the Waldenses, who have bom
time immemorial stood out against the corruptions ot the
Romish Church, notwithstanding the persecutions to whic
they have been exposed. They now enjoy toleration. Wit i
this exception, the people of Piedmont all profess the Ro¬
man Catholic religion. The population ot the coun ly is
more than 3,000,000. (See Sardinia.)
PIERIDES, a surname of the Muses, derived from
Mount Pieris, near Mount Olympus, where they were tirst
worshipped. Others derive the name from Pierus, an
ancient king of Macedon, who migrated from Thrace into
Bceotia, where he established their worship.
PIERRE, Jacques Henri Bernardin de bi, the au¬
thor of Paul and Virginia, was born at Havre m l 737, ot
a family which claimed kindred with Eustache de St 1 lene
of Calais. He seems to have received little regular edu¬
cation, to have shown as a child a passion for animals, and
a remarkable power of living in a visionary yet methodical
world of his own. The event of his early life was the read¬
ing of Robinson Crusoe, which awakened in him the tixed
idea of founding a colony where nature was to be all beauty
and man was to be all virtue. Alter making some progi ess
in mathematics, St Pierre was admitted as a pupil at the
school of the Fonts et Chaussees, and afterwards entered
the corps of engineers. He served one campaign in Hesse
in 1760, but having quarrelled with his superior officers, he
left France, and offered his services to Catherine of Russia,
and subsequently to the King of Poland. But his vain and
irascible temper led him to regard every post as un¬
worthy of him; and, returning to France in 1766, he suc¬
ceeded, by dint of importunity, in receiving the appoint¬
ment of chief engineer of the Isle of France. Disappointed
also with this undertaking, St Pierre returned to France
in disgust in 1771, and began to form some valuable lite¬
rary friendships. He was on terms of intimacy with Con-
dorcet, Rousseau, and D’Alembert, and resolved to enrol
himself among this literary fraternity, and make letters his
vocation. He accordingly set to work; and in 1784 pub¬
lished the first portion of the Etudes de la Nature, which
instantly brought him both fame and fortune. These
Studies came recommended to that age by their true sen¬
sibility, their gentle and vague piety, their pensive melan¬
choly, and their keen sympathy with solitude. Just four
years had elapsed when St Pierre published his fourth
volume of these Etudes containing the celebrated idyl ot
Paul et Virginie, on which his fame now chiefly rests.
The remainder of his life was highly prosperous. He was
made intendant of the Jardin-du-Roi, and was subsequently
installed professor of morals in the Ecole Normale. He
died in 1814, leaving his Harmonies de la Nature ready
for publication. St Pierre’s second wife survived him, and
afterwards married his idolizing biographer Aime Martin,
who collected and published Les CEuvres de J. H. Bernar¬
din de St Pierre, mises en ordre, par L. Aime Martin, 12
vols. 8vo, Paris, 1818-20.
PIERRE D’OLERON, a town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Charente-Inferieure, stands near the centre of the
island of Oleron. It contains a distillery, vinegar manufac¬
tory, and tile-work. Excellent salt is obtained here; and
some trade is carried on in wine. A tribunal of commerce
is held in the town. Pop. 4769.
Pierre-les-Calais, a town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Pas de Calais, forms one of the suburbs of Calais.
Pighiua.
PIG
It has manufactures of cotton, lace, leather, buttons, hats, Pierre, St
salt, and beet-root sugar. The railway to Lille traverses
the town. Pop. 11,524. ^
Pierre, St, a town in the West Indies, on the N.W.
coast of Martinique; N. Lat. 14. 44., W. Long. 61. 18.
It is the largest town not only in the island, but in the
whole of the French possessions in the West Indies, and
it is said to be the finest of all the towns in the West Indies.
Built on a narrow strip of level ground, along the shore of
a semicircular bay, it consists of three broad streets paral¬
lel to the shore, crossed by several others. The principal
streets are traversed by streams of water, which produce
a delightful coolness and freshness in the hot climate.
The town is fortified, and contains many handsome churches
and a botanic garden. The anchorage in front of the
town is good, but very much exposed. A considerable
trade is carried on. Pop. about 30,000.
Pierre, St, a small island belonging to France, off the
south coast of Newfoundland. Its area is about 8 square
miles. It is occupied with rocky heights about 500 feet
above the sea, and with ponds and marshes in the lower
ground. Stunted pines and birches are almost the only
vegetation ; and the people live chiefly by fishing. A
village of the same name, with a roadstead and fort, stands
on the S.E. coast. Pop. about 1200.
PIETISTS, the name given to a sect of reformers which
sprung up in the Lutheran Church in Germany towaids
the end of the seventeenth century. (See Spener, Philip
Jacob.)
PIETRA DE FUSI, a town of Naples, in the province
of Principato Ultra, stands on a hill 1^ mile N.E. ot
Montefusco. It contains several churches and chapels.
Pop. 5000.
PIETRAPERZIA, a town of Sicily, in the province
and 5 miles S.E. of Caltanisetta. Sulphur, gypsum, and
other minerals are obtained in the vicinity; and an active
trade is carried on in corn. Pop. 8500.
PIGALLE, Jean Baptiste, an eminent French sculp¬
tor, was the son of a carpenter, and was born in Paris in
1714. His first efforts in sculpture were rather unpro¬
mising. In the school of Lorraine he show ed little or no
aptitude for the art. Under the tuition of Lemoyne, he
was an unsuccessful competitor for the prize of the Aca¬
demy ; and it was only after he had studied for tin ee years
the master-pieces of Italy, and had returned to his native
city, that he took a high place in his profession. The
career of Pigalle then began to be prosperous. A statue
of Mercury in 1744 gained for him admittance into the
Academy; and an image of the Virgin not long afterwards
introduced him to the patronage of Madame de Pompadoui.
A series of high commissions was the consequence. He
was employed by Louis XV. to execute that group of
“ Mercury and Venus” wdiich was presented to the King of
Prussia in 1748, and which is still at Sans Souci. He set
up that great master-w'ork, the allegorical tomb of Marshal
Saxe, in the church of St Thomas at Strasbourg^ He
executed a bronze statue of Louis XV., which continued
to adorn the town of Rheims till it was destroyed by the
republican fury of the Revolution. He was also intrusted
with the erection of a tomb to the Due d’Harcourt in one
of the chapels in the church of Notre Dame at Paris.
Meanwhile Pigalle had been rising to a high place in the
Academy. The office of professor had been conferred
upon him in 1752, and that of rector in 1777. He had
just attained to the highest dignity, the chancellorship,
when he died in 1785.
PIGEON. See Ornithology.
PIGPIIUS, Albert, one of the opponents of Calvin,
was born at Kempen, in the province of Overyssel, in
1490, and was educated at the university of Louvain. He
entered upon the field of religious controversy about 1523
PIG
Pighms with no small reputation. His mathematical knowledge
Pilate. lac ^een shown in several works; his theological attain-
P I L
ments had been proved in several of the principal chairs in
the Netherlands; and his fame as an orator was so great
that Pope Adrian VI. had sent for him to Rome. The
position which he now assumed in the great contest of the
Reformation was not unworthy of such a reputation. The
Supreme Pontiff despatched him to defend the cause of the
Church of Rome in Germany. It was his privilege shortly
afterwards, in 1524, to take part in the discussions and
decisions of the diet of Ratisbon. He attained his greatest
notoriety when he entered the lists against Calvin, and pub¬
lished his pamphlet De Libero Hominis Arbi trio et Divina
Gratia, adversus Lutherum, Calvinum, et Alios. Cologne,
1542. Pighius died in 1542, in the possession of the pro-
vostship of St John in Utrecht.
Pighius, Stephanas \ inand, a laborious antiquary, and
the nephew of the preceding, was born at Kempen, in the
province of Overyssel, in 1520, and completed his educa¬
tion at Cologne. Although a churchman, he gave himself
up to antiquarian pursuits. Eight years in the early part
of his life were devoted to the study of the ancient remains
at Rome. During the rest of his career his attention was
chiefly occupied in arranging and digesting the information
e had collected. He had just published the first volume
° is researches, under the title of Annales Romanorum,
when he died in 1604. The two remaining volumes were
entrusted to the editorial care of Andreas Schott, and the
ent'rTeJ^rk appeared at Antwerp in 1615, in 3 vols. folio.
JGNOTTI, Lorenzo, an Italian historian and fabu¬
list, was born in 1739 at Figlini, a small town between
rlorence and Arezzo. His life was characterized through¬
out by a genial attachment to literature. At the school of
Arezzo and the university of Pisa he was distinguished
for his devotion to poetry and the classics. While prac¬
tising as a medical man at Florence, he continued the
study of polite learning. At length, after his appointment,
in 1774, to the chair of physics at Pisa, his literary zeal
vented itself in authorship. With agreeable and well-
selected incidents, and in a simple and natural style, he
wrote many fables, which soon became known in other
countries. A more laborious, though not more successful,
undertaking was his History of Tuscany. Commencing at
the time of the early Etruscans, he availed himself through¬
out of all the materials collected by his predecessors. At
intervals, his own well-informed mind supplied a fresh and
original chapter on such topics as the origin of the Italian
language, the revival of letters and arts, and the condition
of science at the end of the fifteenth century. He had
just brought the entire work to a conclusion, when he died
m 1812. It was published under the title of Storia della
Toscana sino al Pnncipato con diversi Saggi sulle Scienze
Lettere, ed Arti, in 9 vols. 8vo, Pisa, 1813. An edition
of Pignotti’s Fables and Poems appeared in 1820.
PIKE. See Ichthyology.
f a town Brazil> in the province
of Bahia, stands on the river San Francisco, S. Lat. 14. 15.
W. Long. 42. 40., 65 miles W. of Jacobina. It has a
church, a school, and large salt-works. Numbers of cattle
are reared at this place. Pop. 5000.
PILATE, Pontius, was the sixth Roman procurator of
Judaea (Matt, xxvii. 2; Mark xv. 1; Luke Hi. 1; John
xvui. xix.), and the one under whom Jesus Christ taught,
S™’mand died (Acts iii‘ 13 5 iv- 27; xiii.28; 1 Tim.
vi. 13; lacitus, Annal. xv. 44). Pilate succeeded Vale-
nus Gratus as governor of Judaea, and held office for ten
years during the reign of Tiberius. His character, as in¬
dicated by Philo Judaeus, by Josephus, and in the New
testament, is, without exception, stubborn, cruel, and
avancious. is imperious cruelty at last cost him his
office. Josephus informs us (Antiq. xviii. 4, 2) that the
Samaritans, having been treated by Pilate in a barbarous
manner, complained to Vitellius, governor of Syria who
ordered him to Rome to give an account of his conduct to
the emperor. Tiberius was dead before Pilate arrived •
but Eusebius relates that the guilty procurator was banished
to Vienne in Gaul, where he committed suicide about the
year a.d. 38.
PILATRE DE ROZIER, Jean Francois. See
Aeronautics.
PILCHARD. See Ichthyology.
PILCOMAYO, or Araqua-Guazi, a river of South
America, in Bolivia and the Plata Confederation, rises in
the former country on the eastern slope of the Andes, near
Chuquisaca, and flows S.E. through Bolivia and Plata, till
it falls into the Paraguay nearly opposite Assumption ;
total length estimated at 1000 miles. It is navigable for
boats neaily the whole of its length; but it is very shallow
in the dry season, and where it is narrow the current
runs with great force. The only city on its banks is
Chuquisaca. Its chief affluents are the Pilaya and Pas-
paya. About 150 miles from the Paraguay it divides itself
into two arms, inclosing a marshy island.
PILES, Roger de, an historian and critic of art, was
born of a noble family at Clameci in 1635. His love for
painting appeared early, and was never lost amid the pub¬
lic business which engrossed his life. Travelling as tutor,
and then as secretary, to the son of President Amelot, he
sedulously increased and matured his knowledge of pictures.
Sent as a spy of the French king to the Flague, he prac¬
tised the profession of a painter in order to conceal his
real character. Nor could a Dutch prison damp his enthu¬
siasm for art. During his confinement he wrote his prin¬
cipal work, the Lives of the Painters. Piles died at Paris
1709. A collection of the works of this author was pub¬
lished in 5 vols. 12mo, 1767.
PILEUS and PILEUM (ttiAos and mXlov), were terms
applied by the Greeks and Romans to any piece oi felt,
and particularly to a felt cap, a hat made to fit close to the
head, and without any brim. The pileus was usually of a
half-egg shape, but was frequently more elevated. The
Greeks, who bequeathed the art of felting to the Romans,
doubtless derived it themselves from Asia. The Phrygian
cap or bonnet, which was of a similar shape and texture to
the pileus, seems to have been peculiar to the inhabitants
of Asia Minor generally, as we find it continually intro¬
duced by artists as the symbol of Asiatic life. The felt
cap was the emblem of liberty among the Romans. When
a slave obtained his freedom, he exchanged the hair of his
head for an undyed pileus.
In contradistinction to the brimless pileus, the Greeks
and Romans wore the petasus (Treracros), a species of hat
also made of felt, and consisting of a great variety of forms,
from that of a mere circular disk to shapes closely resem¬
bling our “ wide-awakes.”
PILLAR. See Glossary to Architecture.
PILLAU, a town of Prussia, in the government of
Konigsberg, stands at the entrance of the Frische Half, 25
miles W. of Konigsberg, of which it is the port. It is de¬
fended by a fort, and has a good harbour, a lighthouse, a
Protestant church, and a school of navigation. Ship-build¬
ing and fishing are actively carried on here. The entrance
to the Frische Haff is very narrow and shallow, so that
large vessels have to discharge their cargoes here, which
gives the town a considerable"trade. Pop. 3491.
FILLEEBHEET, a town of British India, capital of a
pergunnah of the same name, in the district of Bareilly,
N.W. Provinces, stands on the left bank of the Gurrah,
802 miles N.W. of Calcutta. The river, which is here
2o0 yards broad, is crossed during the dry season, from
December to June, by a ford, and at other times by a ferry.
Ihe town is extensive, and is the seat of an active corn-
709
Pilatre de
Rozier
Pilleebheet
710 P I L
Pillory merce. Timber, pitch, honey, wax, wool, various metals,
|| and other goods, are brought hither from Kumaon and
Pimento. Chinese Tartary, and are exchanged for the produce of the
plains. The rice of Pilleebheet, which is valued^ in India
for its fine flavour, is grown in the valley of the Kosilla, in
the south of Kumaon, and brought to market here. Pop.
(1853) 26,760. t ... .
PILLORY (Fr. pilori, probably from Lat./m«, a pillar;,
a mode of punishment by a public exposure of the offender
long used in most countries of Europe. No punishment
has been inflicted in so many different ways as that of the
pillory. Sometimes the machine was constructed so that
several criminals might be pilloried at the same time ; but
it was commonly capable of holding but one at once.
Francis Douce, in his Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. i.,
р. 146, gives six representations of distinct varieties of this
instrument, These varieties are all reducible, however, to
the simplest form of the pillory. It consisted of a wooden
frame or screen raised on a pillar or post several feet horn
the ground, and behind which the culprit stood suppoited
on a platform, his head and hands being thrust through
holes in the screen, so as to be exposed in front. Ibis
screen, in the more complicated forms of the instrument,
consisted of a perforated iron circle or carcan (hence the
name given to the pillory in French), which secured the
hands and heads of several persons at the same time. The
pillory was abolished in Britain in 1837, by the statute
1 Viet., c. 23 ; and in France in 1832.
PILOT, in many maritime countries, is the name ap¬
plied to a particular officer in a ship who has the charge of
the helm and the ship’s course. The term is usually ap¬
plied in this country, however, to a person taken on board
at any particular place, to conduct the vessel into or out of
particular harbours, or along certain coasts. Charters of
incorporation were formerly granted to pilots of this class,
such as those of the Trinity House, Deptford, Strond, and
those of the Cinque Ports, &c. For the present state of
the law respecting “ pilotage,” see the Merchant Shipping
Act 1854, entitled “ An Act to amend and consolidate the
Acts relating to Merchant Shipping,” 17 and 18 Viet.,
с. 104, in which will be found various enactments respect¬
ing the license, regulation, and guidance of pilots belong¬
ing to the United Kingdom only.
PILSEN (Bohem. Plzen, Lat. Pilsna), a town of Bo¬
hemia, capital of a circle of the same name, stands at the
confluence of the Mies and Radbusa, which form the Be-
raun, 53 miles W.S.W, of Prague, and about the same dis¬
tance S.E. of Eger. It is well built, for the most part of
stone, and fortified. Among the public buildings are nu¬
merous churches, the most remarkable of which is that of
St Bartholomew, a fine Gothic structure, built in 1292.
The town-hall and the hall of the Teutonic knights are also
in the Gothic style. Pilsen contains two convents, a theatre,
a philosophical institution with a library and museum, a
grammar school, other educational establishments, two hos¬
pitals, and an infirmary. Manufactures are carried on of
cloth, leather, and musical instruments. Standing on the
high road from Prague to the middle and south of Ger¬
many, Pilsen is a place of considerable trade, and its
weekly and yearly markets are of some importance. Rich
coal-pits and iron mines are worked in the vicinity. Pop,
(1851), exclusive of the military, 11,486.
PILUM, a missive weapon used by the Roman soldiers.
(See Army, § Roman Army.)
PIMENTO, Allspice, or Jamaica Pepper, is the un¬
ripe fruit of Eugenia Pimenta (Nat. Ord. Myrtaceoe), dried
in the sun. (See Botany.) It receives the name allspice,
from its resemblance in flavour to a mixture of cloves, cin¬
namon, and nutmeg. The tree is a native of the West
Indies, but is cultivated almost exclusively in Jamaica;
thence the produce is called Jamaica pepper. It is formed
PIN
into plantations, intersected with broad walks, known as Pimlico
pimento walks. The berries are gathered in an unripe I!
state, when the essential oil which they contain is most ”in ar'
abundant; they are then spread out, and dried by frequent
turning in the sun, when their colour changes from green to
a fine clove-brown. The flavour resides within the shell of
the pimento, which is, when dried, about twice the size of
a pepper-corn, and incloses two seeds. The consumption
of allspice in the United Kingdom has very greatly in¬
creased during the past ten years. It is occasionally used
in medicine, but chiefly as an article of cookery. It yields
an essential oil, known as “ oil of pimento,” used in per¬
fumery and confectionary. (See Oils.) The importations
of pimento for 1857 amounted to 31,014 cwts., of which
4035 cwts. were entered for home consumption, yielding,
at the rate of 5s. per cwt., a total duty of L.1009.
PIMLICO, a suburb of London, in the county of Mid¬
dlesex, and liberty of Westminster, lies to the W. of St
James’s and the Green parks, about 2^ miles W.S.W. of St
Paul’s. It has many handsome streets and squares, and
includes within its limits Buckingham Palace.
PINCHBECK. See Brass.
PIND-DADUN-KHAN, a town of British India, ir
the Punjab, stands about 4 miles from the W. bank of the
Jhelum, from which it is separated by a green plain ; N. Lat.
33. 11., E. Long. 74. 25. It consists of three small groups
of houses, not far apart, built of mud, with a framework of
cedar, which is got from the mountains to the N., and floated
down the river. Salt is obtained in abundance in the vici¬
nity, so as to supply a great part of the Punjab. Pop.
13,588.
PINDAR, the greatest of the Greek lyric poets, was a
native of Bceotia, and was born either in Thebes, the capi¬
tal of that country, or at Cynoscephalae, a little village be¬
tween Thebes and Thespia. His father’s name is variously
given as Daiphantus, Pagondas, or Scopelinus, and his
mother’s as Cleidice or Myrto. He was born, as he him¬
self mentions {Fragm. Incert., 102), at the time of the
Pythian games, which fell in the beginning of July. Clin¬
ton fixes the year as 01. 65.3, or B.C. 518; Bockh as 01.
64.3, or b.c. 522. Both of these dates are uncertain ; but
Bockh’s computation is now regarded as more probably the
correct one. The time of his death is equally doubtful. If
it be true, as is commonly believed, that he lived eighty
years, Clinton’s calculation would give 439 B.C., and Bockh’s
442 b.c., as the date of his death. His wife was Megacleia,
the daughter of Lysitheus and Callina. Another account
gives his wife’s name as Timoxena; but it is not unlikely
that this Timoxena may have been a second wife, whom he
married on the death or divorce of the first. He had one
son, named Daiphantus, and two daughters, Eumetis and
Protomache.
The family to which Pindar belonged was one of the no¬
blest in Thebes, as is proved by the fact, that the poet wrote
the ode which his son Daiphantus sung on his election as
daphnephorus, an office open to none but members of the
highest families in the city. (See Daphnephoria.) They
were famed for their skill in flute-playing, a profession held in
much esteem at Thebes. Pindar inherited the family talent,
and something more. His father, seeing the bent of his
genius, sent him to Athens, where, under the celebrated
dithyrambist, Lasos of Hermione, he learned music, danc¬
ing, and all the mysteries of the chorus requisite for his
training as a lyric poet. He also attended the schools
of Agathocles and Apollodorus, and, though a mere lad,
was allowed by them to instruct the cyclic chori. How
much he owed to these preceptors we do not know. Pro¬
bably it was not much; at least enough is known of Lasos
to show that he had little share in forming Pindar’s style.
The best part of the young poet’s training was probably
that which he received on his return from Athens, in his
PIN
Pindar, twentieth year, from his countrywomen, Myrtis and the
Tanagrean Corinna. To the instruction and example of
the latter, in particular, he was deeply indebted. Corinna
was, like Pindar himself, a teacher of choruses. Plutarch
relates that she encouraged her pupil to select the themes
for his muse from the mythology of his country, and to de¬
vote his chief attention to the subject-matter of his song,
treating the music and other accessories as of merely second¬
ary importance. On one occasion, when, in compliance
with her suggestion, he brought her an ode in which were
inwoven all the mythic legends of Thebes, she told him,
with a smile, that he “ ought to sow with the hand, but
not with the whole sack.” The pupil became in course of
time ambitious enough to enter the lists with his teacher.
She accepted the challenge, and, either from her beauty or
the superiority of her verse, was five different times declared
victor. She was by no means pleased, however, when her
rival Myrtis followed her example: “ I blame the clear¬
voiced Myrtis,—I, that she, born a woman, should enter into
the contest with Pindar.”
Between the age of twenty and twenty-two Pindar began
his professional career as a poet. His earliest poem that
has come down to us is an Epinician ode (the 10th Pythian)
in honour of Hippocles, a noble youth of Pelinna in Thes¬
saly, who had won the prize at the Pythian games. His
fame soon grew so great, that he was engaged to compose
similar hymns by Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse ; Them, tyrant
of Agrigentum ; Arcesilaus IV., king of Gyrene ; and many
other rich and powerful men in Greece and the Greek
colonies. About 473 B.c., in compliance with urgent and
repeated invitations, Pindar paid a visit to Hiero at Syra¬
cuse. It was intended that he should take up his abode
permanently with that “ tyrannus;” but the arts of court-
life soon became distasteful to his independent spirit, and he
returned home after an absence of four years. Among his
most active patrons was Alexander, son of Amyntas, king
of Macedonia. In the praises which he bestowed on this
potentate may be found the reasons why, a century and a
half later, at the capture of Thebes,
“ The great Emathian conqueror bade spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground.”
Nor were the free states of Greece backward in doing ho¬
nour to his merits. Foremost in the number was Athens,
which, in allusion to her heroism during the Persian wars, he
had celebrated in one of his dithyrambs as “ the pillar of
Greece, glorious Athens, the divine city.” The Athenians
gave him, though a Theban, the proxenia, or compli¬
mentary franchise of their town, and on one occasion a
present of 10,000 drachmae. After his death they erected
a statue in his honour. Similar compliments were paid him
by Opus and ASgina, and a still more delicate one by the
inhabitants of Ceos, who once employed him, in preference
to their own illustrious poets Simonides and Bacchylides,
to write a procession-ode for them. The Rhodians inscribed
his 7th Olympian ode in characters of gold on the temple
of Minerva at Hindus.
In the great events that took place in Greece during his
time, Pindar, unlike his contemporary TEschylus, seems to
have taken no share. He watched with keen interest the
struggle of Athens against Persia, and his countrymen,
whose conduct in that struggle was not actively patriotic,
were far from pleased with the praises which he lavished on
the Athenian victors. The story, that they fined him, and
that the Athenians paid the fine, rests on no good founda¬
tion. The most marked feature of the poet’s personal cha¬
racter was his veneration for the gods. His profession,
indeed, demanded that he should show great reverence for
their worship and religious observances. That these were
not to him mere vain ceremonies we may safely infer. He
D A R. 711
not only consecrated a temple to the Great Mother and Pan Pindar,
near his own house in Thebes, and statues to Jupiter Am- - ■ A
mon in Libya, and to Mercury of the Agora in his native
city, but he also rejected or toned down in his odes such
myths as repiesented gods or heroes in undignified or im¬
moral situations.
I he poems of Pindar that have descended to us entire
belong, with one exception, to the class of Epinician or
triumphal odes. I hat exception is the 11th Nemean, in
which the bard celebrates the installation of Aristagoras as
piytanis at lenedos. Elis extant remains, however, prove
him to have excelled in many other departments of lyric
poetry ; and the ancients themselves do not seem to have
attached any special importance to those of his works by
which alone we can rightly estimate his powers. Horace
no doubt spoke the opinion of antiquity when he attributed
to Pindar an unrivalled skill in the kinds of verse specified
in the well-known lines ;—
“ Seu per audaces nova dithyramhos
Verba devolvit, numerisque fertur
Lege solutis,
Sen deos regesque canit deorum
Sanguinem, per quos cecidere justa
Morte centauri, cecidit tremend®
Flamma Chimaerae;
Sive quos Elea domum reducit
Palma coelestes, pugilemve equumve
Licit et centum potiore signis
Munere donat;
Flebili sponsae juvenemve raptum
Plorat.”
In the first of these stanzas are mentioned the dithyrambs,
or cyclic chorus ; in the second, the hymns and paeans ; in
the third, the Epinikia, or songs of triumph; and in the last,
the threnoi, or dirges; in all of which styles alike Pindar’s
eminence was unquestioned. The Epinikia, on which we
mainly form our estimate of Pindar, are divided into four
books. To value them aright it is necessary to appreciate
duly the occasions which called them forth. They were
written in honour of a victory gained at one of the four
great national festivals of Greece—the Olympic, Isthmian,
Pythian, and Nemean games. A victory in any of the great
contests at these games shed a lustre not only on the con¬
queror himself, but also on the family and state to which he
belonged. On the evening of the day of victory, the con¬
queror walked in state to the altar of the god of the games,
attended by the festive train, which sang his praises. On
his return home, a solemn reception was prepared for him
by his native town ; sacrifices and thanksgivings were
offered in his behalf to some god; and the whole proceed¬
ings ended in a public banquet and a comus. Hence arises
the apparent incongruity of the Epinician odes, in which out¬
pourings of the deepest devotion are found side by side with
the wildest utterances of frantic revelry. The victory itself
is seldom described ; sometimes it is not even mentioned.
The glory of the conqueror ; his valour,—for none of the
contests were without danger; and even his wealth,—for
none but persons of at least considerable means could afford
the time and money required for the training as fixed by
law, were the themes on which the poet enlarged. The
birth of the conqueror is also praised, and, where possible, a
parallel drawn between his exploits and those of the mythic
founder of the state or city to which he belonged. Indeed
the mythic element is a leading feature of the Pindaric odes.
Par from being merely ornamental or digressional, it is
closely inwoven with the general texture and design of the
poems, though its purport is sometimes difficult enough to
trace. T. he structure and distribution of the Epinikia were
very intricate; and the chorus which performed them had
to be taught their parts either by the bard himself or by
some master of the lyric art. The personality of the poet
appears in all his odes ; he speaks through the mouths of
712 PIN
Pinde- the chorus as if in his own proper person. It may be ques-
monte. tioned how far such a license is consistent with true art;
but it gave Pindar what he wanted, an opportunity, namely,
of criticising and denouncing his rivals, of defending him¬
self from their attacks, and now and then of sounding his
own praises. This latter practice, as in 01. ii. 83, he occa¬
sionally indulges in to an extent scarcely reconcileable with
modesty. It is to be remembered, however, that these
touches of strong personal feeling, and the sometimes seem¬
ing extravagance of his mirth, were by no means inconsist¬
ent with the wild revelry of the banquets at which his odes
were intended to be sung. The style of Pindar is wonder¬
fully vivid and picturesque. His best English expositor,
J. W. Donaldson (in his essay De Stylo ac Dictione Pin¬
dar i), declares that in this quality Pindar had no rival
among his own countrymen, and no equal or superior till
the age of Dante: “ Vivido vigore ingeni fere omnes
Graecos superat, atque in ea facultate, quae res non visas de-
pingit, et quasi sensibus subjicit, neminem cum eo conten-
derem, praeter Durantem ilium Aligerum.” The general
morale of his writings, too, is high and pure. In the mo¬
ments of his wildest hilarity he uses no improper word or
phrase : “ Vates deorum ac sacerdos, sic ut oraculum loque-
batur.” No evil deed is by him once defended ; no divi¬
nity scoffed at or denounced.
The editions of Pindar are numerous. The princeps
was published at Venice at the Aldine press in 1513; an¬
other by Calliergi appeared at Rome two years later, with
the Scholia. The first critical edition is that of Erasmus
Schmidius, Wittemberg, 1616. The other editions of the
seventeenth century are that of Joannes Benedictus, Sal-
murii, 1620; and the Oxford edition of 1697. Heyne’s
celebrated first edition was published at Gottingen in 1773 ;
a second version of this work, with a valuable essay on the
Pindaric metres by Hermann, appeared at the same place
in 1798. The best German edition of Pindar is that of
August Bockh, Leipsic, 1811-21, in 3 vols. 4to, which has
thrown an entirely new light on the music of the Greeks,
and the artistic construction of their lyric poetry. Dissen’s
edition, published in the Bibliotheca Grceca, Gotha, 1830,
2 vols. 8vo, is nothing more than a rather masterly abridg¬
ment of Bockh’s great work. The illustrative matter is
exceedingly good; but as the fragments are not given
complete, it cannot be said to supersede its immediate pre¬
decessor. Thiersch’s Pindar, Leipsic, 2 vols. 8vo, 1820,
has a valuable introduction ; and the text of the poet, as
given in Bergk’s Poetce Lyrici Greed, is very accurate.
Of English editions, by far the best is that of the Rev. John
William Donaldson, London, 1841, in 1 vol. 8vo. It con¬
tains the cream of the best German editions, and besides
embodying in the notes the results of great original research
and scholarship, possesses a learned and masterly Latin
essay, De Stylo ac Dictione Pindari. The English trans¬
lations of Pindar are not numerous. The oldest is that of
West, which has little to recommend it; Moore’s exhibits
much more taste and vigour. Better than either is that of
the Rev.H. F. Cary, London, 1833, which, however, has the
disadvantage of being founded on Heyne’s somewhat anti¬
quated edition of the poet.
PINDEMONTE, Ippolitq, a delightful Italian poet,
was the younger son of a patrician family, and was born at
Verona in 1753. A course of education at Este and Mo¬
dena, and a tour through Europe, fostered and matured
his literary taste. A severe illness, which unfitted him
for public life, was the occasion of bringing his accomplish^
ments into exercise. Retiring to a country house in the
neighbmirhood of Verona, he spent his quiet days in the
congenial labour of poetical composition. He translated
from his favourite classical poets, recorded the solemn
thoughts which sprung up amid the stillness of solitude,
and descanted upon the news which came at intervals from
PIN
the distant world. His Versi appeared in 1784, his Vol- Pindus
garizzamento dell’ Inno a Cerere scoperto ultimamente e . II
attribuito ad Omero in 1785, his Saggio di Poesie Cam- Pinkerton
pestri in 1788, his Poesie in 1798, his Arminio Trage-
dia in 1804, and his Epistole in Versi in 1805. He had
but recently published a prose work, entitled Elogi di Let¬
ter ati, when he died in 1828. A collection of Pindemonte’s
works appeared in 8 vols., Milan, 1829.
PINDUS, a long mountain chain in ancient Greece. It
began,under the name of Lacmon or Zaewms, about the 40th
degree of N. Lat. among the Macedonian and Illyrian ranges.
Running southward, it sent off in different directions the
rivers Peneus, Aous, Aracthus, and Achelous, and formed the
boundary bet ween Thessaly and Epirus. When it reached the
39th degree of latitude it assumed the name of Tymphrestus,
and shot forth the branch of Mount Othrys. A little far¬
ther south, its heights were merged into other ranges. Pin¬
dus was deemed a favourite haunt of Apollo and the Muses.
PINEROLO, or Pigner?)l, a town of the kingdom of
Sardinia, capital of a province of the same name, in the
division of Turin, stands near the foot of the Alps, on the
Chisone, 21 miles S.W. of Turin. It is surrounded by a
wall of no great strength; and though irregularly and not
very well built, contains several squares, one of which, the
Piazza d’Armi, is large and handsome. There are here a
fine modern cathedral, several other churches, numerous
convents, a town-hall, theatre, college, hospital, and bar¬
racks. Manufactures of iron, cloth, paper, leather, and
silk are carried on; and there is a considerable trade in
these articles, as well as in corn, wine, spirits, &c. Pinerolo,
along with Fenestrelles, Oulx, Cesana, and the surround¬
ing country, though originally a part of Piedmont, was in
the possession of France from 1631 till the peace of Utrecht
in 1713. It was once very strongly fortified; but its de¬
fences were blown up by the French in 1713. Pop. 14,000.
PINGRE, Alexandre-Gui, a French astronomer, was
born at Paris in 1711, and was educated at a religious
establishment at Senlis. The first part of his career was
devoted to theology; but in 1749 the offer of a teacher-
ship in an academy at Rouen gave him a motive for apply¬
ing himself to astronomy ; and about 1753 his appointment
to the office of librarian in the academy of St Genevieve
afforded facilities for carrying out the study. Henceforth
all the energies of Pingre were directed to astronomical
pursuits. He became an indefatigable observer of transits
and eclipses ; and contributed many papers to the Memoirs
of the Academy of Sciences, of which he was an associate.
Especially in the numerical calculations which he made did
his unwearied activity appear. He verified Lacaille’s table
of the eclipses of the first eighteen centuries of the present
era, and carried back the computations to the date of 1000
years before Christ. Fie also calculated the orbits of all
the known comets in a work which was published at Paris
in 1783, under the title of Cometographie, and which was
his only important publication. Pingre died at Paris in
1796. (See Delambre’s biography of this astronomer in
the Biographie Universelle?)
PINKAFELD (Magyar Pinkafoov Pinkafej), a market-
town of Hungary, in the county of Eisenburg, stands on
the Pinka, not far from the Styrian frontier, 19 miles W.
of Guns. It contains a palace belonging to the Batthyani
family; and in the vicinity there is an abundant and much-
frequented chalybeate spring. Woollen cloth of various
kinds is manufactured here, and an active trade in horses is
carried on. Pop. 4000.
PINKERTON, JOhn, a voluminous writer, was born in
Edinburgh in 1758, and was educated at the grammar school
of Lanark. A self-willed devotion to literature began to char¬
acterize him at an early period. Before entering into busi¬
ness, he occupied his time with dipping at random intoFrench
classics and mathematics. While serving his apprenticeship
Pinion
P I N
II ta" and ™,Kr 8 writer to ‘he signet he persisted in writ-
ri“- of',the tKSlTS mS'p,dJri'.yraeS- 0n hi* abandonment
—>   thif nif? profession, and ins removal to London in 1780,
this peiverse literary ardour took a new direction His
the"fieWoferep With aH itSUSUal kb0ri0us eccentricky
ovpr Z - a"tl^uanan research. Sometimes he pored
over the ancient literature of his native country forming
collections of ballads, and adding imitations by himself. \t
in^vrfact tZderdSt°riCal CTpilati0nS’ boldly distort-
fi yi a 1 fc dld not accord with his own prejudice^
fro^hi^n5^61101111 im? eVery °ne Wh° m[Sht dar^ to dissent
trom his own conclusions. A long series of curious and
whimsical publications was the result. There were Select
inTvols (fro mfi 2 n'S" 1783 ! Poems,
ZZ el ;86; Dlssertation on the Origin and Pro-
Zo'the HifZn 'Ti ^ 8V°’ W?An Enquiry
j Tjr t0rJ! Z Scotland preceding the Reign of Mal-
InZ/ ■ mi V^S- 8V°’ 1 789 ’ aad The history of sZoU
land during the Reign of the Stuarts, in 2 vols. 'ito 1797
His Geography, published in 1802, in 2 vols. 4to is con-
sidered valuable. In spite of these and many other works
the author had great difficulty in securing a maintenance
and died in indigence at Paris in 1826. Pinkerton was
^i^with Gibbon and Horace Walpole.
1 in Mechanics, an arbor or spindle, havin? in
wh W 11 SeVeral notcheSy which catch the teeth of a
wheel that serves to turn it round; or it is a lesser wheel
that plays in the teeth of a larger. 1
nnri]N^ACE’ a S”!,a11 vessel navigated with oars and sails
scltr8 genera"y tW° masts ri^d like those „f a
PINS^ MLf l See Glomary t0 Akcwtecture.
inmS„ut7lfrrFam„c7iti^:be,e-nkn,roduced
to which ladies were accustomed to fasten the?r dressesTv
means of skewers of boxwood, ivory, or bone. For some
ime after their introduction pins must have been costly for
e fi"d that they were acceptable New-Year’s gifts to ladies
and that presents of money were made for Cing S !
whence money set apart for the use of ladies rfce ved
the name of ptn-morm,. In the reign of Henry VIH a
aw was passed that “ no person should put to sale any Din
77i°" ,!i S,UCh as '| ia11 ,he double-headed, and have the heads
soldered fast to the shanks of the pins, well smoothed the
aSarpened3” “fh 6 P°inl? 'Ve" and r°Und filed- ca"ted.
• . ^ P^aPufacture of pins was introduced
into several towns of Great Britain by individuals wfin •
some cases, are called the inventors of the article. Pins must
soon have been made and sold at a very cheap rate, to iu““fv
the common remark, “ Not worth a pin,” and enuivalem ei
pressions in some of our early writers, such asVusser
“ J!!8 fetch 18 to flatter, to get what he can ;
iiis purpose once gotten, a pin for thee than.”
Pins are made of brass wire, which is furnished to the nin-
maker m a thick, close form, and he reduces it to the proper
uge by drawing. I he coil of wire thus produced is straight
ened by being interlaced and pulled between seven strong
mft I r88’ a,nd thUS made t0 deSCTlbe “ s“ies of zig
of from 12 to 20 r,1iS 7ken T °f When a Ingt
rc j i ^ feet has been thus straightened it is mf
off, and when a number of these lengths have been collected
wSrah11 ^ ,len^ -ch conSg enough
wire for about six pins. These lengths are pointed at eafh
double row^of telth deh-°l head °f Stee1, cut with a
the face This fs^’ iThJCh m^et obluluely in the middle of
• . • ’ „ is called a mill; and on the same axis with
it is a smaller steel mill with finer tooth Tfi Sai?e/Xls ™
from fifty to eie-litv nin ,1 1 th> rhe gnnder points
points fiJst at the larger nlil?^ TC 0pei'ation’ forming the
finer-cut mili. By a pecidkr»cfd S“00kthl"« them on *6
the grinder give/,h»Pv • ^ " of 1116 thumb aml finger
yo” xto. qU‘r<!d r°tat0ry mo,ion ,0 the wires.
PIN
aldiuldTe'removeJbf ^2“ Tht0 ,,ealt'b
wires are next placed in a sma 1 Ko7 i 1 T 'e l,0lnted
selves, from which one end isremoved tT.T t,’an tb™-
portions are cut off by means of shears.’ Thl sSZmro
heads have recently been formed in Germany the
■inJa !fXd °is:l
ca led the mould, is attached an ordiHa";
w re bdngTeM m T'h rapidly’ Z the s0'ft beai|ing-
Dein& held to it, becomes closely coiled round it
nearly from end to end. The coil thusformed is slipped
Off the mould, and is cut into heads by means of a sK
chisel, to which a quick chopping motion is given The
fronladle ne^annheakd by beinf raised to a red heat in an
with a number h?adfd by girls» who are seated
shaft hot ti f pin'heads in their laps, and, taking up a
heads andTt 1 6 nger an(,1 thumb’ pass ifc throulb the
heads, and catch up one on the point; if more than one be
taken up, it is removed by the fingers. The head is fastened
y placing the shaft in a small steel die sunk to half the
s^e of the head, while another die similarly sunk is al owed
to drop upon it, the effect of which is io clo^e the coil
calTyiTff thG Uppei’ die is -fended verd-
TTnd ft 1 ’ a?.d can be raised by means of a treadle
n deJ,tbe lower die is a small spring, which raises the pin
upper die mted800!'1^!1’10"' ^ S‘rUck' and the
l^nn yy- • A sklIful workwoman will thus head
couriSri1” 7" h0,,,r' T!'e next 0Perati<>»’s yellowing, op
LTr a8nd i r, con,aln'nS w™ lees, or a solutiou of
tartar, and made to rotate for half an hour, the effect of
w ich is to make the pins chemically clean. Then comes
pins^fe puUmo tinmng’ ^ Whicb purp0Se about 6 lb- of
pins are put into a copper pan, and upon them 7 or 8 lb
of grain tin; then more pins, and upon them more tin ; and
addp/y ^ ayerS Until the copper is fil,ed; water is
added, the pan is set on the fire, and when hot, cream of
hour" 1vrLPnnkled ln’ and the water is left to boil for an
ooui. I he pins are next taken out, washed in water ; and
the process is repeated once or twice, until the pins are pro¬
perly tinned. The pins are then polished in a rotating barrel
containing warm bran : the bran is separated by winnowing •
and the pins are collected in bowls for papering. The
papers having been crimped with irons, the folds for one
low are gathered up and placed between the jaws of a vice.
A girl wlth her lap full of pins, takes up a row by passing
a pocket-comb among them, and resting the points in
grooves in the vice, presses the heads forward with the
thumb, which is covered with a leather guard. In this way
the pms are quickly papered. Mourning-pins are blackened
but ahnJt6 0mn/ ^ being C°ated With a black varnish ;
t a neatei and sharper mourning-pin is now made by
means of steel wire tempered to a deep purple colour. 7
. , s are1of various sizes, from the large blanket-nin 3
So mnn .en,gth’ t0 tbe smallest ribbon-pins, of which
300,000 weigh only 1 lb. Insect-pins, used by entomo-
Wfhf^ °qf finfr Wire than ordmary pins, and vary in
length from 3 inches to a size smaller than ribbon pins/ It
has been calculated that ten tons of pins are made every
toe„f„^“rl 0ne’reqUirinsfr°m fourtee" to fifteen
Attends have been made to produce pins by machinery
the most successful of which is by Mr Wrightf patented in
4 x
T13
Pins.
>
714
Pinsk
II
Piozzi.
PIN
PIP
1 ft94 It is stated as an objection to machine-made pins,
St the iSfare made 4 pressure a ^ wte ^ be
TtZ S Europe^ KuSa,' in the^vern;
mentof Minsk, stands in an extensive marshy am on
SS^ItS^cCktatt&ntche,
several convents, and a college for“er^°”*'aJried on
Jesuits. Manufactures »f ,R"®“ T^Cnnal nrarkets
^ewlt Pin*. “Man" Inhabitants are Jews or
TpiNtELU,(or^
rvl’brritn^lnrx^^ol?ther^rics, he t
fZt sto.Cl’But Ml "tS work was £ Sishne
chapel, an edifice which was destined to be ado
U PINTURICCHIO, Bernardino, an eminent Italian
na’mter was born at Perugia in 1454, and studied under
Pietro Perugino. His success in art was very consider¬
able With the occasional aid, as it is suppose , o _
friend and fellow-pupil Raphael, he contrived to design
naturally and to execute gracefully. The liveliness of Ins
faces and the magnificence of his architecture, in spite of
a vicious habit of gilding his ornaments, completed the
general effect, and made his pictures striking and popular
In course of time, popes, cardinals, and other ecclesiastics
noticed him, and entrusted him with several important
commissions. He was employed to decorate many churches,
and other edifices, both at home and throughout Ita y. At
length he attained the summit of his excellence in the car¬
toon at Siena, which represents the most memorable events
in the life of Pius II., and in the great work at Spello which
consists of pictures of “ The Annunciation, 1 he Nativity,
and the “Dispute with the Doctors.” Notwithstanding such
a fortunate career, Penturicchio is said to have come to a
wretched end at Siena in 1513. According to Vasari, he
died of chagrin at having narrowly missed an opportunity
of discovering a quantity of gold pieces. Another account
states that his wife left him on a sick-bed to perish by
hunger. (See Vasari’s Lives of Painters, &c., and Lanzi s
History of Painting in Italy f
PIN US, the Pine-tree. See Botany, and 1 ranting.
PIOMBINO, a seaport-town of Tuscany, in the pro¬
vince of Pisa, stands on the channel of the same name, 69
miles S.S.W. of Florence. It is surrounded by wails, and
has a citadel, three forts, a fine church, a palace, and a
small harbour. In the vicinity there are salt-works, and
some remains of the ancient town of Populoma. Some
trade is carried on here. Piombino was at one time the
capital of an independent principality, which included the
island of Elba. Pop. 4000.
PIOMBO, Fra, Sebastiano del. See Sebastiano.
PIOVE-DI-SACCO, a town of Austrian Italy, in the
o-overnment of Venice and province of Padua, stands on the
Brenta Canal, 12 miles S.E. of Padua. It contains a castle,
several churches and chapels, and many country houses be¬
longing to the Venetians. Leather and linen are manu¬
factured here. Pop. (1846) 6596.
PIOZZI, Hesther Lynch, who was the daughter oi
John Salusbury, Esq. of Bodvel in Caernarvonshire, and
was born in 1739, is celebrated for her connection with Dr
Johnson. In 1764, the year after her marriage with her
first husband, the wealthy brewer Thrale, her intimacy
with the great moralist began. A turn for literature, a
fondness for intelligent conversation, and a smart, lively
fancy, enabled her to appreciate his society. Apartments
were allotted to him in her house in the city, and in her
villa at Streatham; and her hospitable table was the scene
of many of his most brilliant nights. She continued to _
soothe his hypochondria, and study his wayward tastes,
until her marriage with the Italian musician Piozzi in 1784
broke off the friendship. Even then the connection be¬
tween the two names did not cease. In 1786, while living
in Florence, she wrote a book narrating, in a flippant, gar¬
rulous, and clever style, many of the superstitious whims,
the ridiculous oddities, the brow-beating retorts, and the
vehement outbursts of the departed lexicographer. Up till
her death, too, in 1821, she continued to talk to another
generation about the great men of the Johnsonian age.
Besides her Anecdotes of Dr Johnson, Mrs Piozzi published
A Collection of Letters to and from Dr Johnson ; a popular
poem, entitled The Three Warnings; and several miscel¬
laneous works. A book entitled Piozziana, by a riien ,
appeared in 1833. . . . ,
PIPE, a musical instrument, various in kind. (.See
Music, and Organ.) Without entering into useless
details regarding the ancient avkoi and tibice, we may men¬
tion that Strutt, in his Sports and Pastimes of the People
of England, gives representations of the pipe and tabor, as
used in England in the fourteenth century to accompany a
dancing-dog, a cock on stilts, a horse rearing, iom
the drawings we cannot ascertain the nature of the pipe
represented. We may, however, suppose it to have been
similar to the galoubet used in France, along with the
tabor, from a very remote period. This galoubet is a small
instrument of the flageolet kind. Its use, for more than
the last two centuries, has been confined to Provence, it
has only three finger-holes, and is played with the left hand,
whilst the right beats the tabor, which is attached to the
performer. The compass of the galoubet is two octaves
and a tone from D on the third line of the treble clef up
to E in altissimo. Great skill is required to bring out all
the sounds of its compass. Some of the players on this
small and imperfect instrument are said to be so dexterous
as to be able to perform upon it very difficult pieces ot
music composed for other instruments, such as the violin,
&c It is always accompanied by the tabor, which is a
small drum of a cylindrical form, and rather longer and
narrower in its relative proportions than the common drum.
In the last century several books of instruction were pub¬
lished at Paris by distinguished performers on the galoubet.
It was upon a very small instrument of this kind that the
blind Sardinian peasant Picco performed so wonderfully
at London and at Edinburgh in 18o6. (G. F. G.)
Pipe-Office is an office in which a person called the
clerk of the pipe, makes out leases of crown-lands, by war¬
rant from the lord treasurer, or commissioners of the trea¬
sury, or the chancellor of the exchequer. The clerk of the
pipe also makes out all accounts of sheriffs, &c., and gives
the accountants their quietus est.
PIPERS, a musical term, now applied to performers on
mi _ i  hnmhrisin mnprs. Irish
Pipe
II
Pipers.
nrmto, a musical icim, .
the bagpipe. Thus we have Northumbrian pipers, Irish
pipers, Calabrian pipers, Scottish pipers, &c. The bagpipe
seems to be one of the most ancient of musical instruments.
It had various names in ancient times and in difieient
countries. Boccaccio introduces it as a fashionable instru¬
ment in his Decameron; and, from the accounts of the
household expenses of our British monarchs we find that
the bagpiper was a court musician in the olden time. n
Strutt’s Sports and Pastimes of the People of England
we find a bagpipe-player on stilts, from an illuminated ma¬
nuscript of the thirteenth century, in the reign of Henry
III.; and another bagpiper of the same century, with a
girl dancing upon his shoulders. Some of the most curious
representations of bagpipers and their instruments {chori oi
cori) are given by Herbert De Cantu et Musica Sacra,
plates 33 and 34 of the second volume. (g. f. G.)
FIR
Pir Panjal PIR PANJAL (Sainfs Mountahi), a mountain range
II of India, stretching from N.W. to S.E., between Cashmere
x ir ^ , anc^ Punjab. Its length is about 40 miles, from the
Baiamula pass on the N.W. to the Pir Panjal pass on the
S.E.; and its highest point, which is in N. Eat. 33. 40., is
about 15,000 feet, above the sea. Its structure on the
Cashmere side consists of primary rocks, while the summit
is basaltic, and transition formations also appear in some
places. The pass of Pir Panjal, though 12,000 feet high,
is below the snow-line, and remains passable for a great
part of the year.
PH^US, in Ancient Geography, a celebrated port to
the W. of Athens, consisting naturally of three harbours or
basins,, which lay neglected till Themistocles put the
Athenians on making it a commodious port; the Phalerus,
a small port, and not far from the city, being what they used
befoie that time. 1 he Piraeus, as Athens flourished, be¬
came the common emporium of all Greece. Hippodamus,
an aichitect, celebrated as the inventor of many improve¬
ments in house-building, besides other monuments of his
genius, was employed to lay out the ground. Five porticoes,
which, communicating with one another, formed the Long
Portico, were erected by the ports. Here was an agora
or mai ket-place, and, farther from the sea, another called
hippodamia. Beside the vessels were dwellings for the
marineis. A theatre was opened, temples were raised, and
the Piraeus, which surpassed the city in utility, began to
equal it in dignity. The cavities and windings of Muny-
chia, natural and artificial, were filled with houses ; and
the whole settlement, comprehending Phalerus and the
ports of the Piraeus, with the arsenals, the store-houses, the
famous armoury of which Philo was the architect, and the
sheds for 300, and afterwards 400 triremes, resembled the
city of Rhodes, which had been planned by the same Hip¬
podamus. The ports, on the commencement of the Pelo¬
ponnesian war, were secured with chains. Sentinels were
stationed, and the Piraeus was carefully guarded.
The Piraeus was reduced with great difficulty by Sylla,
who demolished the walls, and set fire to the armoury and
the arsenals. In the civil war it was in a defenceless con¬
dition. Calenus, lieutenant of Caesar, seized it, invested
Athens, and ravaged the territory of the state. Strabo,
who lived under the emperors Augustus and Tiberius^
observes that the many wars had destroyed the long walls,
with the fortress of Munychia, and had contracted the Pi¬
raeus into a small settlement by the ports and the temple of
Jupiter the Saviour. (See Athens.)
_Piraeus, the seaport of Athens, stands on an isthmus
joining to the mainland a rocky promontory overlooking
the gulf of Salamis, 5 miles S. W. of Athens. ‘ The modern
town has been entirely built since 1834, and contains many
fine houses, four churches, six schools, a custom-house, and
a lazaretto. Ihe harbour is deep and good, though rather
difficult of entrance ; and a quay has recently been con¬
structed capable of accommodating numerous vessels. The
number of vessels belonging to the port in 1855 was 496,
tonnage 18,331 ; in the same year there entered, ex¬
clusive of the coasting trade, 814 ships, tonnage 229,412;
and there cleared 595, tonnage 173,736. The com-
meice of Piraeus is great, and rapidly increasing in import¬
ance. The value of the imports was in 1854, L.155,840-
and m 1855, L.270,280. The chief articles imported are
corn from Turkey and Egypt, sugar, coffee, and all kinds
of manufactured articles. The export trade is not so great;
l OQAcned^n Va!Ue in 1854 t0 P-12,520, and in 1855 to
-Lu/S,USO. Raw silk, wool, and leeches are sent to France;
wine, cheese, honey, &c., to Turkey ; hides, tobacco, &c.,
t0 ^ k t0 Britain- Pop. (1852) 5526.
i iKAJMFbl, Giovanni Battista, a very eminent Ita¬
lian engraver, was born in the former half of the eighteenth
century, and studied his art at Rome. The sight of the
PIR
great architectural remains of that city soon kindled within
him a flame of enthusiasm, which continued to burn
throughout his career. With all the powers of his ardent
genius in full play, he began to copy and restore the ruined
edifices. His cunning hand faithfully imitated the actual
remains of a fabric ; his exquisite invention, catching the
design of the original architect, supplied the parts that were
wanting; his artistic skill introduced groups of vases, altars,
tombs; and his scientific distribution of light and shade
completed the picture, and threw a striking effect over the
whole. One engraving after another was executed with
unrivalled brilliancy ; and a magnificent vision of the palaces
and temples of the ancients continued to rise before the
eyes of the public. As the great work went on, the zeal
of the artist only waxed stronger. In course of time it
was found necessary to call in the aid of all his children,
and of several pupils. He did not, in fact, slacken in his
exertions until in 1778 his enthusiasm was quenched by
death. The plates of Piranesi were collected and preserved
by his son and coadjutor hrancesco. 1 hey were afterwards
published, to the number of about 2000, in 29 vols. fol
Paris, 1835-37.
PIRANO, a town of the Austrian empire, in the king¬
dom of Illyria, and circle of Istria, stands at the extremity
of a small peninsula separating the bay of Trieste from
that of Largone, 13 miles S.W. of Trieste. It is well
built, and contains an old castle and a Gothic cathedral.
Ihe haihour is large, but shallow; and there is good an¬
chorage for large vessels in the roads. There are also docks
for ship-building. Fishery and trade are actively carried on ;
the exports consisting of wine, oil, and salt from the works in
the neighbourhood, which are the largest in Istria. Pop. 9200.
PIRATE (Tmpcmys), a sea-robber, or an armed ship
which roams the seas without any legal commission, and
seizes and plunders every vessel she meets with indiscri¬
minately, whether friends or enemies.
PIRMASENS, or Piemasenz, a town of Bavaria, in
the circle of Palatinate, stands in a hilly and well-wooded
country, 22 miles W.S.W. of Landau. It is well built,
and surrounded by a wall ; and contains several churches,
and a palace, formerly the residence of Louis IX. of Hesse-
Darmstadt. Shoes, musical instruments, straw-hats, mir¬
rors, and other articles are manufactured here. Pop. 5600.
PIRNA, a town of Saxony, in the circle of Dresden,
stands on the left bank of the Elbe, 10 miles S.E. of Dres¬
den. It rises in terraces from the river up to the fortress of
Sonnenstein, which is now used as a lunatic asylum. This
fortress was stormed by the Swedes in 1639; and in 1758
the Prussians took it, and destroyed the outer works. The
town is surrounded by walls, and entered by two gates.
It contains a fine Gothic parish church, several other
churches, an orphan hospital, and a handsome railway
station. It is the seat of a court of law, and of several
public offices. Calico, porcelain, beet-root sugar, &c., are
manufactured here ; and there is a considerable trade and
navigation on the Elbe. In the vicinity there are good
quarries of sandstone. Pop. 6592.
PIRON, Alexis, a French poet, was born at Dijon in
July 1689, where his father was an apothecary, and where
he passed more than thirty years in idle and destructive
dissipation. He was at length obliged to quit the place of
his nativity, in order to avoid the reproaches of his fellow-
citizens, on account of an ode which he had written, and
which gave them great offence. His relations not being
able to give him much assistance, he supported himself at
Paris by means of his pen, the strokes of which were as
beautiful and fair as those of an engraver. He lived in the
house of M. de BeHeisle as his secretary, and afterwards
with a financier, who, however, did not know that he had a
man of genius under his roof. His reputation as a writer
commenced with some pieces which he published for the
7K>
Pisa.
PIS
entertainment of the populace, and which showed strong
marks of original invention ; but what fully estabhs e is
character in this way was his comedy entitled Metromame,
acted in 1738, and replete with genius, wit, and humour, ami
which was pronounced the best that had appeared in 1* ranee
since Regnard’s Gamester. Piron’s mischievous ingenuity
was partly the cause which excluded him from the trench
Academy. “ I could not,” said he, “ make thirty-nine
people think as I do, and I could less think as thirty-nine
do.” He called that celebrated society “ les invahdes du
bel esprit,” and yet he often endeavoured to become one ot
those invalids. 'He died on the 21st of January 1773, at
the age of eighty-three. He had prepared for himselt the
following characteristic epitaph :—
Ci git Piron, qui ne fut rien,
Pas meme academicien.
A collection of his works appeared in 1776, in seven vols.
8vo, and nine vols. 12mo. The principal pieces are,—
L’Ecole des Peres, a comedy acted in 1728 under the title
of Fils Ingrat; Callisthene, a tragedy, the subject ot
which is taken from Justin; L'Amant Mysteneuse, a
comedy; Gustave Wasa and Ferdinand Cortez, two tra¬
gedies, some scenes of which discover an original genius, but
the versification neither pleases the ear nor affects the heart;
Metromanie, a comedy; Les Courses de Tempe, an inge¬
nious pastoral, in which the manners both of the town and
country are pleasantly drawn ; with some odes, poems,
fables, and epigrams. In this last kind of poetry he was
very successful, and he may be placed after Marot an
Rousseau. Excepting Metromanie, Gustave Wasa, Les
Courses de Tempe, some odes, about twenty epigrams, three
or four fables, and a few epistles, the rest of his works are but
indifferent, and have no claim to any extraordinary merit.
PISA, a town of the grand duchy of Tuscany, capital
of the province of the same name, in a fertile plain on both
sides of the Arno, 8 miles above its mouth, and 45 W. of
Florence. It is surrounded by walls and ditches, about 6
miles in circuit, and is entered by six gates. A great part
of the area thus inclosed is occupied by gardens, or entirely
unoccupied ; and this gives the outer part of the town a
very dreary and decayed appearance. But the cential
part has no lack of cheerfulness and animation; its broad
though irregular streets are lined with many stately palaces
and gorgeous marble buildings. Both sides of the Arno are
lined with quays, and with a street called the Lung d’Arno
containing many splendid edifices. Three bridges span
the river; one of them, of marble, is among the finest
structures of the kind in Europe. In a large open grass-
grown space, at the N.W. corner, stand the four most
remarkable edifices,—the cathedral, baptistery, leaning
tower, and Campo Santo, or cemetery,—all built of white
marble in the same style, beautifully grouped together,
apart from the other buildings. The cathedral, whose archi¬
tect was Buschetto, is a splendid building, founded 1067,
and consecrated 1118. It is in the form of a cross, with a
nave, 4 aisles, transepts, and choir. Its whole length is 311
feet; breadth of the nave and aisles, 106 feet; length of
the transepts, 237 feet; breadth of the western front, 116
feet; height from the pavement to the summit of the roof,
112 feet. In the centre rises an elliptical dome, adorned
on the outside with eighty-eight columns, and supported in
the interior by four piers. The nave is separated from the
aisles by twelve Corinthian columns on each side ; and these
are surmounted by arches ; and these again by a number of
smaller shafts. The cornices, as well as the bases and capi¬
tals of the columns, have been formed by Buschetto with
great skill from various fragments of antiquity brought from
different places. The twelve altars in the nave and tran¬
septs are said to have been designed by Michael Angelo.
They are simple in general design, and have much variety
PIS
in their details. The high altar is heavy ; richly and ela
borately ornamented. The church also contains many paint-
ings and painted windows, a fine pulpit, and three magni¬
ficent bronze doors. It has suffered much from the sink-
in" of the ground, and was greatly injured by a fire in 1596.
In” the nave is hung a large bronze lamp, the oscillations
of which are said to have suggested to Galileo the theory
of the pendulum. Opposite the west front of the cathedral
stands the baptistery, a circular building 116 feet in dia¬
meter, surmounted by a conical dome 102 feet high. In
the interior there is a corridor, raised on three steps, running
round the building, for the accommodation of spectators of
the rite of baptism, which is administered at a large font in
the centre. It is of white marble, carved, and inlaid with
coloured stones; and has in the centre an image of St
John on a column. The baptistery contains a remarkably
beautiful pulpit by Niccola Pisano. The exterior of the
building is adorned with sculptures and statues. The
famous leaning tower of Pisa stands at the other end of the
cathedral, overhanging its base more than 13 feet. In
shape it is cylindrical, 53 feet in diameter at the base, and
179 feet high ; and it consists of eight tiers of columns sup¬
porting semicircular arches, and forming as many galleries
round the tower. Its leaning position is probably acci¬
dental, owing to the sinking of the soil; but it is quite safe,
as the centre of gravity falls considerably within the base,
and the walls are strengthened with iron bars. The view
from the top is extensive and beautiful. The Campo Santo,
which stands to the north of the other edifices, is of an ob¬
long form, 415 feet long by 138 broad, and is surrounded
by an arcade 34 feet broad and 46 high. In the centre is
a mound of earth, said to have been brought from Mount
Calvary, and formerly used as a burial-place for its sup¬
posed miraculous qualities. The surrounding arcade con¬
tains numerous ancient and modern sculptures, and the
walls are covered with frescos, some of which are much
admired. Pisa contains numerous other churches, some ot^
them remarkable for the beauty of their architecture, or of
the pictures they contain: in that of St Catherine is still
preserved the pulpit from which Thomas Aquinas used to
preach. There are also numerous fine palaces in Pisa. 1 he
university of Pisa, founded in the fourteenth century, was
formerly one of the most celebrated in Italy ; but its facul¬
ties of law and philosophy have recently been transferred
to Siena. It has nearly 300 students. In the quadrangle
stands a fine marble statue of Galileo, erected in 1839.
Attached to the university are a library, a museum of na¬
tural history, and a botanic garden. The town contains an
academy of fine arts, several schools, hospitals, a theatie,
&c. It is defended by a citadel to the north, and a fortress
to the south of the Arno. Some remains of antiquity, espe¬
cially of baths, still exist at Pisa. The manufactures ot the
town are few and unimportant, consisting ot cotton and
woollen stuffs, soap, white lead, vitriol, &c. The trade has
very much declined since the rise of Leghorn. Ot the
origin of the ancient Pisce, which occupied the same site
as the modern town, several traditions are given, but little
is known with certainty: whether founded by Pelas-
gians; or, as the poets would have us to believe, by Greeks
from the Elean Pisa; or, according to a third account, by
Etruscans. It was at one time Etruscan ; but its early fight¬
ings with the Ligurians, and its exploits in piracy and trade,
are buried in the dim obscurity of those early times. M e
do not even know how, nor exactly when, Pisee became
subject to the growing power of Rome. It certainly was
a dependent ally of the republic before the second Punic
war, and its port was used as a place of departure for Spain
and Gaul. It was also for a long time the frontier city
against the Ligurians ; and suffered frequently from the in¬
vasions of these people in their protracted wars with Rome.
In 180 b.c. a colony was established here, and it soon be-
Pisa.
Pisa
Pisano.
P I S
came one of the most flourishing places in Etruria; but its
history again becomes obscure in the decline of the Roman
j ^mP,re- It passed successively under the dominion of the
ot is, Lombards, and Franks, when they conquered Italy;
and subsequently became virtually an independent state,
owning allegiance nominally to the marquises of Tuscany,
w 10 weie vassals of the emperor. In this condition the
city giadually rose to much importance, and maintained a
fleet of galleys, which was employed with much success
against the Mohammedan pirates on the coasts of the Me¬
diterranean. They even went so far as to conquer, in 1022,
the island of Sardinia, with the assistance of the Genoese,
and afterwards that of Corsica, which they received in
091 as a fief from the Papal See. This was the period of
t leir greatest prosperity, when the city was decorated by its
magnificent ecclesiastical edifices. For about four centu-
r‘es f*isa was one °f the most powerful maritime powers in
the Mediterranean ; but this high rank was lost in the
course of the long wars with Genoa, which began in 1070,
and resulted in the destruction of the harbour of Pisa in
1290. Meanwhile the city was also engaged in the wars be¬
tween the Guelphs and Ghibelines in Italy. Pisa supported
the latter or imperial party, and was attacked by Florence,
the head of the opposite side. It was in these contentions
that Ugohno, Count Gherardesca, whose story has been ren-
deied famous by Dante, after being for ten years captain-
general of Pisa, was displaced by the Pisans for favouring the
Guelph party, and died by starvation, with his sons and
grandsons, in the lower of Famine, which is still pointed
outlf!" the Peace was at last made with Florence
m 1293, and with Genoa in 1299; and the city, now shorn
of its naval power, afterwards lost by the same unhappy
feuds its independence too. War soon after broke out anew,
P I s
j yj. 11 1 ttl LII UHL dllcWj
and Pisa had to contend single-handed against the whole
power o luscany. In 1326 they lost Sardinia, after repeated
attempts to retain it. But the city itself long held out against
its foes, and was only reduced by domestic feuds and
tieachery under the power of Florence in 1406 ; the chief
families proudly withdrawing to Sardinia and Sicily. On
the French invasion in 1494, Pisa made a last effort for in¬
dependence, but was a second time conquered by Florence
in 1509. Its liberty was now lost for ever; and it has
continued since that time subject to Florence, whose for-
tl,inles ^ *las shared. Pisa is celebrated as the birthplace
of the famous Galileo. Pop. 25,000. The province of Pisa
lias an area of 1176 square miles. Pop. (1857) 229,730.
PISA, Leonardo. See Algebra.
PISANO, Andrea, an eminent Italian sculptor, born
at Pisa about 1280, and had the honour at a very early
age of introducing anew style of art. Taking as his models
t le collection of ancient statues which were preserved in
the cathedral and the Campo Santo of his native city,
and also adopting Giotto’s new method in design, he im¬
proved immensely upon the coarse and infelicitous man¬
ner of his predecessors, and rose to the first place in his
profession. As a result of this proficiency, it came to pass
tliat Pisano was summoned by the Florentines to take up
is abode amongst them, to adorn their city, and to receive
tieir patronage. He was employed to ornament with
statues of the apostles and saints the facade of Santa Maria
ael I1 lore. He was engaged during twenty-two years in
executing the great gate of bronze for the church of San
lovanni, a work, which still remains a proof of his genius,
any ot ei commissions, both in sculpture and in archi¬
tecture, continued to be entrusted to him until he died in
^ur.r?unded with affluence, and dignified with the
titles ot citizen and magistrate.
A!0’ Nic™la’ a very celebrated Italian sculptor and
c ! ec was boin at Pisa about the beginning of the
* k f R- CrrtUryA Pie rest°ration of art was the ereat
task of his life. Studying the ancient sarcophagi in his
native place, he acquired a style closely resemblino- the
antique. Then being extensively employed both as a sxuln-
tor and an architect, he gave in many different cities of
Italy many specimens of a new and improved manner of
design, invention, and composition. The urn at Bologna
which procured for him the name of “ Niccola of the Urn ”
and the marble pulpit in the church of San Giovanni at
Pisa, which was sculptured over with the “ Universal Judg¬
ment, were especially instructive to the artists of the day
Architects, sculptors, and even painters, felt themselves
stunulated and assisted in their several pursuits. Nor did
his influence cease when he died in 1278. The revival in
ait was continued by his son Giovanni, who died in 1320
leaving many memorials throughout Italy of his excellence
in sculpture and architecture.
PISCINA, a large basin in a public place or square,
where the Roman youth learned to swim, and which was
surrounded with a high wall, to prevent filth from beino-
thrown into it. Fins word is also used for a lavatory
amongst the Lurks, placed in the middle court of a mosque
or temple, where the Mussulmans wash themselves before
they offer their prayers.
PISEK (Lat. Piseca), a town of Bohemia, capital of a
circle of the same name, stands on the Wottawa, here
crossed by a fine bridge, 24 miles W.S.W. of Tabor, and
oo b.b. W. ot Prague. It is surrounded by an ancient wall,
and contains a castle, several handsome churches, a gram-
mai school, military academy, &c. There are here an iron-
wire work, cotton factories, dye-works, and manufactories
ot musical instruments. Pisek is the seat of law courts for
the circle. Pop. (1846) 6092.
.^IDIA, a deduct of Asia Minor, originally included
within Pamphylia or Phrygia, was constituted a separate
province in the division of the Roman empire under Con¬
stantine the Great. It was bounded on the N. by Phrygia
on the W. by Phrygia and Lycia, on the S. by Pamphylia,’
and on the E. by Cilicia and Isauria. The physical cha¬
racter of the country was wild and variegated. Offshoots
from Mount Taurus extended themselves in all directions ;
a nch fertile valley occasionally intervened; and a chain
of lakes inclosed the landscape. The habits of the inhabi¬
tants were in accordance with their mountain home. Un¬
der their original name of Solymi, they lived a lawless, free-
booting life, spurning the advance of civilization, and darino-
any invader to follow them into their rugged fastnesses5
Rome conquered them only to find that their spirit of inde¬
pendence was not broken. They would not brook the esta¬
blishment of a single garrison or colony. It was only their
towns that paid tribute. They carried their invincible
disposition down to modern times; and under the appella¬
tion ofKaramanians they still continue to be wild, rapacious
and suspicious of strangers.
The principal towns of Pisidia were Selge, Cremna, Sa-
galassus and Termessus.
PISISTRA I US, the son of Hippocrates, was descended
from one of the most illustrious families of Athens, which
claimed to derive their origin from Codrus, and throuo-h
a ,trac.ed their Petligree to Nestor and the Pylian kings.
iU the time that he began to take part in the political
affairs of his country, there were three factions strugo-ling
for power; those of the lowlands, highlands, and coast
Megacles, chief of the great family of the Alcmsonidee,
took the lead of the coast party, whilst Pisistratus headed
the democratical faction of the highlanders. Solon had
tried to calm their passions by the wisdom of his laws but
the contending parties had refused to submit; and when
he returned, after an absence of several years, he found
much confusion, and everything tending towards a state
of anarchy. Pisistratus was determined to secure to him¬
self the chief authority in the government; and by pre¬
tending to the people that he was in danger of his life, he
A
718
Pisticcio
II.
Pistoja.
PIS
obtained a guard for the security of his person, and it was
not long before he made himself master of the citadel. Pie
thus became what was afterwards called Tyrant of Athens,
B.c. 560; though Herodotus expressly states that all the
laws continued in force, and that the constitutional powers
of the magistrates were not in the least restricted. o on
used to say that, were it not for his ambition, there would
not be a better disposed man, or a more worthy citizen, in
Athens. Though Solon was no doubt deeply mortiheu
that his countrymen were unable to maintain the pohtica
constitution which he had formed for them, it does not ap¬
pear that he broke off all connection with Pisistratus. He
took the wiser course of trying to direct his measuies 01
the benefit of his country, and assisted him in the adminis¬
tration of the commonwealth. How long Pisistratus con¬
tinued to maintain himself in power is not stated, ut ie
was at last driven into exile by the two parties ot iv egac es
and Lycurgus uniting their strength. A dispute between
the victors induced Megacles to propose an accommodation
with Pisistratus, upon condition that he should marry his
daughter; and this was at once acceded to. A quarre ,
however, with Megacles again took place, and Pisistratus
was obliged to retire to Eretria in Euboea. Here he con¬
tinued to increase his influence till a favourable opportu¬
nity presented itself of regaining his former position, it
was in the eleventh year of his second banishment that he
returned, when the Athenians flocked to his standard, and,
in the words of Herodotus, preferred tyranny to liberty.
He defeated the Alcmaeonidae, and entered Athens, pro¬
mising safety to all who returned quietly to their homes.
Some of the leaders were of course banished, but the great
body of the people seem to have benefited by the change.
He was kind to the poor, and introduced many laws and
regulations which were highly advantageous to his country.
He was a lover of learning, and is said to have been the
first who arranged the poems^of Homer as we now have
them. Cicero speaks of his eloquence in the highest terms.
He continued to direct the administration of Athens till
his death, b.c. 527, thirty-three years after his first usurpa¬
tion, of which time he ruled seventeen years. He left two
sons, Hippias and Hipparchus, who succeeded to his power.
PISTICCIO, a town of Naples, in the province of Ba¬
silicata, between the Basiento and the Salandrella, 15 miles
S. by W. of Matera. It contains several churches, a con¬
vent, hospitals, and manufactories of woollen cloth. Pisticcio
was nearly destroyed by an earthquake in 1688. Pop. 6200.
PISTOJA, or PiSTOiA(anc. Pistoria), a town of lus-
cany, in the province of Florence, near the Ombrone, not
far from the opening of the valley of that river into that of
the Arno, 21 miles N.W. of Florence. It is inclosed with
lofty ramparts bearing the Medici arms, and covers a large
extent of ground ; though, as the population is not com¬
mensurate with the size of the town, much of the space is
occupied with gardens. The streets and squares are broad,
and lined with handsome buildings, but they are pervaded
with that dulness which characterizes many Italian towns.
Many of the public buildings possess much interest. The
cathedral has been built at different dates, and the interior
modernized in 1838 and 1839. Though not very remarkable
for architecture, it contains a great variety of paintings, sculp¬
tures, and monuments. Opposite the cathedral is a baptistery
in the Italian-Gothic style. The church of St Andrew, which
was probably the original cathedral, contains a finely-carved
pulpit by Giovanni da Pisa. Several of the other churches
in the town are remarkable for their architecture or the
paintings they contain. The Palazzo Pretorio and the
Palazzo della Communita, Italian-Gothic buildings of the
thirteenth century; the episcopal palace, built in 1787;
and other similar buildings, are among the ornaments of
Pistoja. The town has also several convents, a large
hospital founded in 1218, a clerical seminary and other
PIT
schools, two good public libraries, and a theatre. Pis- P18*011
tols are said to have been so named because first made at pitc;irr
Pistoja ; but they are not now manufactured here. Musket- Island_
barrels, cutlery, nails, iron wire, musical instruments, silk
fabrics,? &c., are produced. Some trade is carried on in
silk, straw bonnets, and other articles. Pistoria was origi¬
nally an Etruscan town, but no remains of this period have
been preserved. It was a municipal town of small import-
tance under the Romans, and is only historically remark¬
able for its proximity to the scene of the final defeat and
death of Catiline, B.C. 62. Under the Lombards, Pistoja
was a place of importance, and was surrounded by walls.
After being for some time independent, it became subject
to Florence about the middle of the twelfth century. From
the dissensions of the Pistojan family of Cancellieri arose
in 1296 the factions of the Bianchi and Neri, whose conten¬
tions spread to Florence, and involved it, as well as Pistoja,
in the greatest calamities. Finally, in 1306, Pistoja was
surrendered to the Neri, who destroyed its walls, a blow
from which the town never recovered. Pop. 12,387.
PISTON, in pump-work, is a short cylinder of metal
or other solid substance, fitted so as to slide air-tight in
the cavity of the barrel or body of the pump.
PITCAIRN ISLAND, a solitary island in the Pacific
Ocean, S. Lat. 25. 4., E. Long. 130. 8. It is about 7
miles in circumference, and is elevated, and surrounded
with steep cliffs. The highest peak on the island is 1046
feet above the sea. The N. coast, where the settlement
was, presents a very fine appearance, the ground, which
is thickly wooded, rising in the form of an amphitheatre,
flanked by steep cliffs. The coasts of the island are for
the most part inaccessible to vessels, as they are rocky
and exposed to a heavy swell. There are a few small
coves, and some traces of coral, but no coral reefs. The
island has three landing-places; two having a steep as¬
cent from the beach, and the other, which was generally
used by the inhabitants, is very difficult of access. The
structure of the island is sandstone, with particles of
iron ; and volcanic rocks also exist. I he soil is deep and
rich, consisting of clay mixed with sand. cli^13^6 is
healthy, and the temperature varies from 59° to 89°. Ba¬
nanas, plantains, yams, sweet potatoes, cocoa-nut trees,
fig trees, mulberry trees, screw pines, and other vegetables
are indigenous; while the bread-fruit tree, tobacco, &c.,
have been introduced. Swine, goats, and domestic fowls
are the principal animals. I he island was discovered by
Carteret in 1767, and named after one of his officers called
Pitcairn, who was the first to see it. Its chief interest,
however, is connected with the mutineers of the Bounty
and their descendants, who lived on it for upwards of sixty
years. It was in 1790 that nine of these mutineers landed
there, along with six men and twelve women from I ahiti.
Although the island was then uninhabited, there is little
doubt, from the remains that were subsequently discovered,
that it was at one period occupied by natives, who had
either become extinct or migrated to some other land.
Violent quarrels soon began to break out among the set¬
tlers, excited by the use of spirits that were distilled from
a root found on the island; and these feuds proved so
bloody, that within ten years after the original settlement
on the island, the whole of the Tahitian men and all the
Englishmen but one, had perished. John Adams, the only
surviving mutineer, having a Bible and Prayer-Book that had
been saved from the Bounty, was struck on their perusal
with remorse for his crimes; and becoming a true Chris¬
tian, began, with the aid of these books, to instruct the 1 a-
hitian women who remained, and their children by the
white men. The result of this has been, that a very re¬
markable community grew rap in this lonely isle, distin¬
guished, according to the testimony of all who have visited
them, by the kindness and gentleness of their character, and
PIT
Titcairne. the virtuous simplicity of their life. As the number of the
inhabitants increased, it was feared that the island might
not be sufficient for their sustenance ; and accordingly, in
March 1831, the Pitcairn islanders were conveyed by the
British government to Tahiti; but they being dissatisfied
with their new position, and having lost several of their
number by sickness, returned soon after to tfifir original
settlement. In May 1856 the whole community finally
left Pitcairn Island, and landed on the 8th of June at Nor¬
folk Island, where land had been allotted to them by the
British government. (See Norfolk Island.)
PITCAIRNE, Archibald, an eminent physician, was
born at Edinburgh on the 25th December 1652. Having
taken his master’s degree at the university of his native city
in 1671, and having spent some time in the study of law,
he afterwards turned his attention to medicine. He pro¬
secuted the latter study with great ardour and success for
five years in France, and took his medical degree at
Rheims on the 13th of August 1680. Returning to Edin¬
burgh, he entered upon a distinguished professional career.
On the foundation of the Royal College of Physicians in
1681, Pitcairne was chosen a fellow of that learned body.
His publication of Solutio Problematis de Inventoribus in
1688 extended his professional reputation, and had the
effect of procuring for him the chair of physic at Leyden
in 1692. The students of that venerable university—and
among them were Boerhaave and Mead—found the Scot
too abstract and geometrical in his medical prelections for
their tastes, which led to Pitcairne’s return to his native
city during the following year. He took to his former
practice, and soon gained a British reputation as a skilful
physician. What leisure he had he contrived to occupy in
the composition of satirical verses, which seem to have
pleased his friends while they exasperated his enemies.
His satirical propensities, combined with his violent preju¬
dices as a Jacobite and an Episcopalian, and a relish for
questionable jests, led him into contests, professional and
otherwise, both frequent and fierce. The ferocious attack
to which he was subjected in the Apollo Mathematicus,
published in 1695, and ascribed to the pen of Dr Eyzat,
was the precursor to a rancorous and disreputable pam¬
phleteering war, conducted by the members of the Royal
College of Physicians. At the outset of the squabble
Pitcairne rashly unseated himself in the Royal College.
He retired in sullen protest, but overtures of reconciliation
and pacific resolutions having been duly framed and agreed
upon, the breach was got healed, and the suspended doctor
resumed his seat after a six years’ absence. In 1701 Pit¬
cairne published a volume of eight dissertations at Rotter¬
dam, entitled Archibaldi Pitcarnii Dissertation.es Me-
dicce, which he enlarged by the addition of six new dis¬
courses in 1713. Of these fourteen dissertations an Eng¬
lish translation was soon afterwards published in 8vo, by
Drs Sewell and Desaguiliers, under the title of The Whole
Works of Dr Archibald Pitcairne published by himself;
wherein are discovered the true Foundation and Principles
of the Art of Physic, ivith Cases and Observations upon
Distempers and Medicines. A tract containing Epistola
Archimedis ad Regem Gelonem, Albee Grcecce reperta
anno cerce Christiance 1688, appeared at Amsterdam in
1706. Dr Pitcairne died on the 26th October 1713, in
the sixty-first year of his age.
Four years after the author’s death appeared a volume
made up mainly of notes of his lectures, taken by his
pupils. A complete collection of his works in Latin prose,
with the addition of a few poems, entitled Archibaldi Pit¬
carnii, Medici celeberrimi Scoto-Britanni, Opera Omnia
Medica, appeared at Leyden, 4to, 1737. To Pitcairne
also is assigned a share in the composition of The As¬
sembly, a Comedy by a Scots Gentleman, London, 1722,
and Edinburgh, 1766; a performance characterized more
PIT
719
by ribaldry and profanity than by wit or humour. To
him also is ascribed the authorship of Babell, a Satirical
Poem on the Proceedings of the General Assembly in the
year 1692, Edinburgh, 1830. His Latin poems, of which
an edition was published under the title of Selecta Poe-
mata, Edinburgh, 1727, were much esteemed during his
own day. I hey are chiefly to be admired for their point
and pungency. Pitcairne belongs to the mathematical and
mechanical school of physic ; and in the annals of medicine
his name is honourably mentioned with those of Borelli,
Bellini, and other great masters of the mathematico-medi-
cal art. Despite his numerous failings, he seems to have
been a man of a highly benevolent disposition ; and he is
said to have been in the habit of relieving many who knew
not their benefactor. “In short,” says Dr Sewell, “he
was one of the greatest and most useful men in his profes¬
sion this age has produced ; of a free and universal genius,
a good orator, poet, and philosopher. He was of a pleasant
engaging humour. Life sat very easy upon him in all its
circumstances. He despised many, but hated none.”
PITCH. See Tar.
PITEA, or North Bothnia (Swed. Norrbotten), a lan
or province of Sweden, lying between N. Lat. 65. and 69.,
E. Long. 15. 15. and 24. 10., is bounded on the N. and W.
by Norway, S. by the lan of Umea, and E. by the Gulf of
Bothnia and Russian Lapland ; area, 32,934 square miles.
A great part of this country, lying to the N., is occupied
by the largest plain in Sweden. This extends from the
foot of the Kiolen Mountains, which separate it from Nor-
way, to the shore of the Gulf of Bothnia; and, with the
exception of a few small hills, it is entirely fiat, covered here
and there with marshes and small lakes. At the foot of
the mountains the land is 1300 feet above the sea; but it
gradually slopes downwards, and about midway, between
the mountains and the sea, has only an elevation of 400
feet. In the higher portions of this plain dwarf birches are
almost the only growth; farther down these appear as
trees, and pines also grow; and near the sea the whole
country is covered with forests, except the banks of the
rivers, where the soil is cultivated. This plain extends
from the Russian frontier as far to the S.W. as the Lulea,
beyond which river the country consists partly of moun¬
tains and partly of plains and valleys. The Kiolen range,
which here attains its highest elevation in Mount Sulitel-
ma, sends off numerous ridges towards the E., which are
separated by wide valleys. The greater part of this
country is covered with wood, except in the more lofty
regions. Near the Bothnian Gulf, however, farming is
carried on to some extent. The principal rivers of Pitea
are,—the Tornea, with its affluent the Muonio, forming the
boundary between Sweden and Russia; the Calyx, the
Lulea, and the Pitea; all flowing from the mountains into
the Gulf of Bothnia, and most of them flowing through
numerous lakes. The capital of the lan is Pitea, a town of
1545 inhabitants, which stands on an island at the mouth
of the river of the same name, and has a harbour and docks.
Lulea and Tornea are the chief other towns. Pop. of the
lan (1855), 60,108.
PITHIVIERS, a town of France, capital of an arron-
dissement in the department of Loiret, on the top and sides
of a hill near the Oeuf, 25 miles N.E. of Orleans. It is
pretty well built, and contains the ruins of a square castle,
erected in the tenth century. Linen, hosiery, farming
implements, &c., are made here; and the place is famous
for almond cakes and lark pies. Some trade is carried on
in saffron, wool, wine, honey, &c. Pop. (1855) 4348.
PITHOU, Pierre, a Frenchman of great literary emi¬
nence, was descended from an ancient and noble family in
Noimandy, and born at Jroyes in 1539. His taste for
literature early showed itself, and his father cultivated it to
the utmost. He first studied at Troyes, and was subse-
Pitch
II
Pithou.
720
Pitiscus
II
Pitot.
P i
T
quently sent to Paris, where he became tlie scholar and
friend of Turnebe. Having finished his pursuits in lan¬
guages and the belles lettres, he was removed to Bourges,
and placed under Cujas to study the civil law. On the
removal of Cujas to Valence, Pithou followed him, and
continued to profit by his lectures until the year 1560.
In 1563 Pithou published his Adversaria Subcesiva, a
work highly applauded by Turnebe, Lipsius, and other
learned men, and which laid the foundation of that exten¬
sive fame which he subsequently acquired. Soon after
this, Henri III. advanced him to some considerable posts,
in which, as well as at the bar, he acquitted himself most
creditably. Pithou, being a Calvinist, narrowly escaped
being involved in the massacre of St Bartholomew in 1572;
a circumstance which seems to have frightened him out of
bis religion, which he soon afterwards abjured in favour of
the Catholic faith. He died upon his birthday in the
year 1596.
Pithou published a great number of works upon law,
history, and classical literature; and he gave several new
and correct editions of ancient writers. He was the first
who made the world acquainted with the Fables of Phaedrus,
and the little anonymous poem entitled Pervigilium Veneris,
from manuscripts in his possession. He published his
master Cujas’ Observations on the Poman Law, accom¬
panied with remarks and annotations of his own. We
are also indebted to him for the discovery of the laws of
the Visigoths, which he published in 1579. His principal
writings on the canon law are,—Corpus Juris Canonici,
1687, 2 vols. folio; Codex Canonum vetus ecclesiasticum,
in folio; Gallicce Ecclesice in schismate Status, in 8vo ;
and A Treatise on the Liberties of the Gallican Church.
Pithon also published an edition of the Capitularies, a
series of French annalists, from the eighth to the thirteenth
century; Memoirs of the Counts de Champagne and de
Brie ; the Historical Fragments of St Hilarius, containing
curious particulars respecting the Council of Rimini; and
the writings of several ancient doctors of the Gallican
Church, of which several had until then remained inedited.
We are likewise indebted to him for editions, from the best
manuscripts, of several ancient geographers, the Itinerary
from Bordeaux to Jerusalem, the works of Salvian, the
works of Juvenal and Persius, Petronius, and the moral
distichs attributed to Cato.
PIT I SC US, Samuel, a learned philologist, was born at
Zutphen in 1637, and became rector of the college of that
city, and afterwards of St Jerome at Utrecht, where he
died on the 1st of February 1727. He wrote a Lexicon
Latino-Belgicum, 1704, in 4to; a Lexicon Antiquitatum
Bomanorum, in quo ritus et antiquitates, turn Greeds et
Romanis communes, turn Romanis particulares exponuntur,
Leeuwarden, 1713, in 2 vols. folio; and he published good
editions, with prefaces and notes, of Quintus Curtius, Poly-
histor, Solinus, with the Observations of Salmasius on
Pliny, Suetonius, Aurelius Victor, the Pantheon Mythi-
curn, and the Antiquitates Romance of Rosini. In 1685
Pitiscus announced a Lexicon Catullo-Tibullo-Proper-
tianum, which unfortunately never appeared.
PITOT, Henri, descended of a noble family of Lan¬
guedoc, was born at Aramon, in the diocese of Usez, on
the 29th of May 1695. He studied the mathematics with¬
out a master; and went to Paris in 1718, where he formed
a close friendship with the illustrious Reaumur. In 1724
he was admitted a member of the Royal Academy of
Sciences at Paris, and in a few years he rose to the rank
of pensioner. Besides a great number of Memoirs printed
in the collection of that society, he published in 1731 the
Iheory of the Working of Ships, in one volume 4to, a
work of considerable merit, which was translated into Eng¬
lish, and caused the author to be admitted into the Royal
Society of London. In the year 1740 the States-General
P I T
of Languedoc made choice of him as their chief engineer,
and at the same time gave him the appointment of inspec¬
tor-general of the canal which unites the two seas. The .
city of Montpellier being in want of water, Pitot brought
from a distance of three leagues the water of two springs,
which furnish a plentiful supply of that necessary article.
The water is brought to the magnificent Place du Peyron,
and thence distributed throughout the city. This work is
the admiration of all strangers. In 1754 Pitot was ho¬
noured with the Order of St Michael. He died in 1771,
aged seventy-six. Pitot was a practical philosopher, and a
man of uncommon probity and candour. He was a member
of the Royal Society of Sciences of Montpellier, before
which his eloge was pronounced in 1772 by M. de Ratte,
perpetual secretary, in presence of the states of Languedoc ;
and in the Royal Academy of Sciences of Paris, the same
honour was done him by the Abbe de Fouche, who was
then secretary.
PITS, or Pitseus, John, an English biographer, was
born in 1560, at Aulton in Hampshire, and educated at
Wykeham’s school, near Winchester, where he remained
until he was about eighteen years of age, when he was
sent to New College, Oxford, and admitted a probationer.
Having continued in that university not quite two years,
he left the kingdom as a voluntary exile, and retired to
Douay. He thence proceeded to the English college at
Rheims, where he remained about a year, and then went
to Rome, where he continued a member of the English
college nearly seven years, at the expiration of which he
was ordained priest. In 1589 he returned to Rheims,
where, during two years, he taught rhetoric and the Greek
language. He then quitted Rheims on account of the
civil war in France, and retired to Pont-a-Mousson, in
Lorraine, where he took the degrees of Master of Arts and
Bachelor in Divinity. From this he travelled into Germany,
and resided a year and a half at Triers. He then visited
several of the principal cities in Germany, and continuing
three years at Ingoldstadt in Bavaria, took the degree of
Doctor in Divinity. Having made the tour of Italy, he
returned once more to Lorraine, where he was patronized
by the cardinal of that duchy, who preferred him to a
canonry of Verdun; and about two years afterwards he
became confessor to the Duchess of Cleves, daughter of
the Duke of Lorraine. During the leisure he enjoyed in
this employment, he wrote in Latin the Lives of the Kings,
Bishops, Apostolical Men, and Writers of England. I he
last of these, commonly known and quoted by the title of
De Illustribus Angliee Scriptoribus, was published after his
death. The three others still remain in manuscript amongst
the archives of the collegiate church of Liverdun. The
Duke of Cleves having died about twelve years after Pits
had been confessor to the duchess, the latter returned to
Lorraine, attended by our author, who was promoted to the
deanery of Liverdun, which, with a canonry and official-
ship, he enjoyed till the close of his life. He died in 1616,
and was buried in the collegiate church. Pits was un¬
doubtedly a scholar, and not an inelegant writer; but he
is justly accused of ingratitude to Bale, from whom he bor¬
rowed his materials, without acknowledgment. He quotes
Leland with great familiarity, without ever having seen his
book; his errors are innumerable, and his partiality to the
Catholic w'riters is obvious. Pits likewise wrote De Legi-
bus, Triers, 1592; De Beatitudine, Ingoldst., 1595; De
Peregrinatione, Dusseld., 1604. (See Biog. Brit.)
PITT, Christopher, an English poet, celebrated for
his translation of Virgil’s JEneid, was the son of a physi¬
cian, and was born at Blandford in the year 1699. Hav¬
ing studied four years at New College, Oxford, he was
presented to the living of Pimperne in Dorsetshire, which
he held during the remainder of his life. He had so
poetical a turn, that whilst he was a school-boy he wrote
Pits
Pitt.
Pitt.
PIT
/ |wo folios of manuscript poems, one of which con¬
tained an entire translation of Lucan. He was much
esteemed while at the university, particularly by the
celebrated Dr Young, who used familiarly to call him his
son Pitt gained very high reputation by his excellent
English version of Vidas Art of Poetry. This success
animated him to another undertaking demanding much
greater abdity and judgment. This was his metrical trans-
, bon °f n'rgKS f: He had Dryden as his rival, and
he naturally observed his failures and avoided them. On
P I T
comparing the two versions, that of Dryden leads the
reader forward by hjg general vigour and sprightliness
v n e that of I itt frequently stops him to contemplate the
excellence of a single couplet; Dryden’s faults are foreot
ten in the hurry of delight, Pitt’s beauties are neo-lected
in die langour o a cold and listless perusal. In short,Tat
ofPitt pleases the critics, Dryden the people. He I ke-
wise wrote a Miscellany, which appeared in 1727. This
amiable poet died in the year 1748, without leavin- it is
■said, one enemy behind him. G’ C18
T21
Pitt.
PITT, EAEL OF CHATHAM.
Pitt, William, first Earl of Chatham, a celebrated British
statesman and orator, was born on the 15th of November
1708. He was the youngest son of Mr Robert Pitt of
Hoconnock in Cornwall, and grandson of Mr Thomas Pitt
governor of Fort St George in the East Indies in the reign
ot^ueen Anne, who sold an extraordinary diamond to the
King of France for LASS,000, and thus obtained the name
o? Diamond Pitt. The subject of this notice was edu¬
cated at Eton whence in January 1726, he was removed
to Trinity College, Oxford, which he entered as a o-gntle-
nian commoner. Here the superiority of his mind soon
attracted notice, and he was also remarked for his powers of
e ocution; but at the age of sixteen he experienced the
hist attacks of an hereditary and incurable gout, which con-
tinued at intervals to torment him during the remainder of
1 s Me- He quitted the university without taking a de-
gree, and visited France and Italy, whence he returned
without having received much benefit from his excursion.
H.s father was now dead, and as he had left very little to
the younger children, it became necessary that William
s lould choose a profession. He decided for the army, and
a cornet s commission was procured for him in the Blues.
But, small as his fortune was, his family had the power and
l 7qiniC-mati!?n STe !im* At the seneral election of
1734 his elder brother Thomas was chosen both for Old
°r 0a1khamPton- When Parliament met in
1735 Ihomas made his election for Oakhampton, and
William was returned for Old Sarum. At the time when
he obtained a seat in Parliament he was not quite twentv-
one years of age. The intention of bringing him thus early
into Parliament was to oppose Sir Robert Walpole, who
had now been fourteen years at the head of affairs. In
fact, his abilities soon attracted notice, and he spoke with
great vehemence against the Spanish convention in 1738
i ^ T- tJ‘euoccasion of the bil1 for registering seamen in
1740, which he opposed as arbitrary and unjustifiable, that
He is said to have made his celebrated reply to Walpole
who had taunted him on account of his youth; but the
language of that reply, as it now stands, is not the diction
of Hitt, who may have said something like what is ascribed
to him, but of Dr Johnson, who then reported, or rather
rT’rv debates for tbe Gentleman's Magazine. In
174b Pitt was appointed joint vice-treasurer of Ireland;
and m the same year treasurer and paymaster-general of
the army, and a privy councillor. The office of paymaster
he discharged with such inflexible integrity, even refusing
many of the ordinary perquisites of office, that his bitterest
enemies could lay nothing to his charge, and he soon be¬
came the darling of the people. The old Duchess of Marl¬
borough who carried to the grave the reputation of being
t le, ^st. hater of her time, and who most cor-
of I yiO mo -d Wa p-0, e and his associates, left Pitt a legacy
fn £ in Consideration of “ the noble defence he had
?en th e SUfr,rt 0f tlle lavvs of England, and to pre-
ent the imn of his country.” In the year 1755 Pitt,
eeming it necessary to offer a strong opposition to the
VOL. XVII.
continental connections then formed by the ministrv re-
signed his places, and remained some Le out of office
But Ins resignation having alarmed the people, he was in
s“crCeet?rveot ,«lCaI ed,r ^e/and -PPotateS
secretary of state. In this situation, however, he was more
successful in obtaining the confidence of the public than in
conciliating the favour of the king, some of whose predilec¬
tions he had conceived himself bound to oppose The
consequence was, that soon afterwards Pitt was removed
10m office, whilst Legge, with some others of his friends
mind not ml "T T d;s,missed- But the nation had a
mind not to be deprived of his services. The most exalted
notion had been formed of him throughout the country
Ins patriotism was believed to be as pure and disinterested
as h,s adihties and eloquence were confessedly transcendent-
and his colleagues shared in the same general favour. In
a worn the opinion of the country was so strongly expressed
both directly and indirectly, that the king though? t pni-’
dent to yield; and on the 25th of June 1757 PiU was
SoTtheex fi^^ Legge beCame chan-
ceJlor of the exchequer, and the other arrangements were
made conformably to his wishes. Pitt was now in effect
prime minister; and the change which soon took place in
the aspect of public affairs evinced the ability of Ids mea¬
sures, and the vigour of his administration: His spirit
animated the whole nation ; and his activity pervaded
every department of the public service. His plans were
ably conceived and promptly executed; and the depres¬
sion, which had been occasioned by want of energy in the
cabinet, and ill success in the field, was follow ed by exer¬
tion, confidence and triumph. The whole fortune of the
war was changed. In every quarter of the globe success
attended our arms. J he boldest attempts were made both by
Jand and by sea, and almost every attempt proved fortunate.
In America the French lost Quebec ; in Africa they were
deprived of their principal settlements; their power was
abridged in the East Indies; in Europe their armies were
defeated ; and, to render their humiliation more complete
their navy their commerce, and their finances were almost
^‘dst this ful1 tide opsuccess George II. died on
the 2oth of October 1760, and was succeeded by Georo-e III
who ascended the throne at a time when the French court
iiad just succeeded in obtaining the co-operation of Spain.
Ihe treaty commonly called “family compact” had been
secretly concluded ; but the English minister, correctly in¬
formed of the hostile intentions of Spain, determined to
anticipate that power, and strike a blow before this new
enemy should be fully prepared for action. He therefore
proposed in the council an immediate declaration of war
against Spam, urging forcibly that the present was the
favourable moment for humbling the whole House of Bour¬
bon. But when he stated this opinion in the Privy Council
he other ministers, averse to so bold a measure, opposed
the proposition of the premier, alleging the necesitv nf
mature deliberation before declaring wa,Against so power-
u a state‘ Irnfated by the unexpected opposition of his
4 r
722
PITT, E A R L OF C H A T H A M.
Pitt.
colleagues, Pitt replied, “I will not give them leave to
think; this is the time ; let us crush the whole House ot
Bourbon. But if the members ot this board are ot a di -
ferent opinion, this is the last time I shall ever mix in its
councils. I was called into the ministry by the voice ot
the people, and to them I hold myself answerable tor my
conduct. I am to thank the ministers ot the late king tor
their support; I have served my country with success;
but I will not be responsible for the conduct of the wa
any longer than while I have the direction ot it. Jo tins
declaration the president of the council answered, 1 tind
the gentleman is determined to leave us; nor can 1 say
that I am sorry for it, since he would otherwise have cer¬
tainly compelled us to leave him. But it he is resolved to
assume the right of advising his Majesty, and directing t
operations of the war, to what purpose are we called to tins
council ? When he talks of being responsible to the
people, he talks the language of the House of Commons
and forgets that at this board he is responsible only to the
king. However, though he may possibly have convinced
himself of his infallibility, still it remains that we should be
equally convinced before we can resign our understandings
to his direction, or join with him in the measure he pro¬
poses.” The opposition he thus encountered the nation
attributed to the growing influence of Lord Bute. But
however this may have been, Pitt was a man of too high,
not to say imperious a temper, to remain as the nomina
head of a cabinet which he was no longer able to direct.
Accordingly, on the 5th of October 1761, he resigned all
his appointments ; and, as some reward for his services, us
wife was created Baroness Chatham in her own right,
whilst a pension of L.3000 a year was settled on the lives
of himself, his lady, and his eldest son.
No fallen minister, if fallen he could be called, ever
carried with him more completely the confidence and re¬
gret of the nation, whose affairs he had so successfully
administered. But at this time the king was also popular ;
and the war being continued by his new ministers with
vigour and success, no discontent appeared until after the
conclusion of the peace. The impulse given by Pitt had
carried them forward in the same direction which he had
pursued ; but they were equally incapable of profiting by
the advantages which had been already gained, or of prose¬
cuting the war until the objects for which it was originally
undertaken should be accomplished. The victories gained
over France and Spain having greatly elated the nation, the
feeling which almost universally prevailed amongst the
people was, that we should either dictate peace as con¬
querors, or continue the war until our adversaries were
more effectually humbled. This was likewise Pitt’s opi¬
nion. Accordingly, when the preliminaries of peace came
to be discussed in Parliament, he went down to the House
of Commons, though suffering severely from an attack of
gout, and spoke for nearly three hours in the debate, giving
his opinion on each article of the treaty in succession, and,
upon the whole, maintaining that it was inadequate to the
conquests of our arms, and the just expectations ot the
country. Peace was, however, concluded on the 10th of
February 1763, and Pitt continued unemployed.
After his resignation in 1761, Pitt conducted himself in
a manner worthy of his high character. So far from giving
a vexatious and undiscriminating opposition to the ministry
which had succeeded his own, he maintained his popularity
in dignified retirement, and came forward only when ques¬
tions of great importance were to be discussed. One of
these occurred in 1764, on the subject of general warrants,
the illegality of which he denounced with all the energy
and vigour of his eloquence. Another occasion, when he
came forward in all his strength, was the consideration of
the discontents which had arisen on account of the Stamp
Act. In March 1766, the repeal of that act having been
proposed by the Rockingham ministry, Pitt, though not
connected with them, ably supported the measure, which
was carried, but whether prudently or the contrary is still a
matter of dispute. About this time Pitt had devised to him
by will a considerable estate in Somersetshire, the property
of Sir William Pynsent of Burton-Pynsent in that county,
who, from admiration of his public character, disinherited
his o'wn relations, in order to bequeath to him the bulk of
his fortune. After the dissolution of the Rockingham
ministry, a new administration was formed, and in 1766
Pitt was appointed lord privy seal. At the same time he
was created a peer by the titles of Viscount Pitt of Burton-
Pynsent, in the county of Somerset, and Earl of Chatham,
in the county of Kent.
Whatever might be his motives in accepting a peerage,
it is certain that it proved very prejudicial to his charac¬
ter, and that in consequence he sank as much in popularity
as he rose in nominal dignity. The “ great commoner, as
he was sometimes called, had formed a rank for himself,
on the basis of his talents and exertions, which titular ho¬
nours might obscure, but could not illustrate ; and, with
the example of Pulteney before him, he should have been
careful to preserve it untarnished by empty distinctions,
shared by the mean and the worthless as well as by the
great, the gifted, and the good. Lord Chatham, however,
did not long continue in office after being elevated to the
peerage. On the 2d of November 1768 he resigned the
place of lord privy seal, and never afterwards held any
public employment; nor does he appear to have been at
all desirous of returning to office. He was now sixty,
and the gout, by which he had so long been afflicted, dis¬
abled him, by its frequent and violent attacks, for close
and regular application to business. In the intervals of
his disorder, however, he failed not to exert himself upon
questions of great magnitude; and in 1775, 17<6, and
1777, he most strenuously opposed the measures pursued
by the ministers in the contest with America. His last
appearance in the House of Lords was on the 2d of Apia
1778. He was then very ill, and much debilitated ; but
the question was important, being a motion of the Duke
of Richmond to address his Majesty to remove the minis¬
ters, and to make peace with America on any terms. His
lordship made a long speech, in which he summoned up
all his remaining strength to pour out his disapprobation
of a measure so inglorious. But the effort overcame him,
for in attempting to rise a second time, he fell down in
a convulsive fit; and though he recovered for the tune,
his disorder continued to increase until the 11th of May,
when he expired at his seat at Hayes. His death was la¬
mented as a national loss. As soon as the news reached
the House of Commons, which was then sitting, Colonel
Barre made a motion, that an address should be presented
to his Majesty, requesting that the Earl of Chatham should
be buried at the public expense. But Mr Rigby having
proposed the erection of a statue to his memory, as more
likely to perpetuate the sense of his great meats enter¬
tained by the public, this was unanimously agreed to. A
bill was soon afterwards passed, by which L.4000 a year
was settled upon John, now Earl ot Chatham, and tie
heirs of the late earl to whom that title might descend.
His lordship was married in 1754 to Lady Hester, sister
of Earl Temple, by whom he had three sons and two
daughters.
The principal outlines of Pitt’s character have been va¬
riously sketched, sometimes with, and sometimes without,
any depth of shadow. The truth is, that there scarcely
ever lived a person who had less claim to be painted alto¬
gether en beau, or who so little merited unsparing censure.
Lord Macaulay says, “ That he was a great man, cannot for
a moment be doubted ; but his was n@t a complete and
well-proportioned greatness. The public life of Hampden
Pitt.
Pitt.
PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.
or of Somers resembles a regular drama, which can be cri
ticised as a whole, and every scene of which is to be
1v‘ewe^ 'n connection with the main action. The public
i e o 1 itt, on the other hand, is a rude though striking
piece, abounding in incongruities, and without any unity of
plan but redeemed by some noble passages, the effect of
w uch is increased by the tameness or extravagance of what
piecedes and of what follows. His opinions were unfixed ;
i . s (Lon^uct’ at sonie of the most important conjunctures
o his life, was evidently determined by pride and resent-
ment. He had one fault, which of all human faults is most
rarely found in company with true greatness. He was ex¬
tremely affected. He was an almost solitary instance of a
man of real genius, and of a brave, lofty, and commanding
spirit, without simplicity of character. He was an actor
in the closet, an actor in the council, and an actor in Parlia¬
ment • and even in private society he could not lay aside
his theatrical tones and attitudes. We know that one of
the most distinguished of his partizans often complained
that he could never obtain admittance to Lord Chatham’s
loom till everything was ready for the representation;
till the light was thrown with Rembrandt-like effect on
the head of the illustrious performer; till the flannels
had been arranged with the air of Grecian drapery, and
the crutch placed as gracefully as that of Belisarius or
.Lear. Yet, with all his faults and affectations, he possessed,
in a very extraordinary degree, many of the elements of
true greatness. He had splendid talents, strong passions,
quick sensibility, and vehement enthusiasm for the grand
and the beautiful. There was something about him which
ennobled even tergiversation itself. He often went wron-
very far wrong ; but, amidst the abasement of error, he still
retained what he had received from nature, “ an intense and
glowing mind.” In an age of low and despicable prostitu¬
tion, the age of Dodington and Sandys, it was something to
have a man who might perhaps, under some strong excite-
ment, have been tempted to ruin his country, but who never
wou d have stooped to pilfer from her ; a man whose errors
arose, not from a sordid desire of gain, but from a fierce
thirst of power, glory, and vengeance. “ History owes him
this attestation, that, at a time when anything short of di¬
rect embezzlement of the public money was considered as
quite fair in public men, he showed the most scrupulous
disinterestedness; that, at a time when it seemed to be
generally taken for granted that government could be up¬
held only by the basest and most immoral arts, he appealed
to the better and nobler parts of human nature ; that he
made a brave and splendid attempt to do, by means of public
opinion, what no other statesman of his day thought it pos¬
sible to do except by means of corruption ; that he looked
for support, not, like the Pelhams, to a strong aristocratical
connection, not, like Bute, to the personal favour of the
sovereign, but to the middle class of Englishmen; that he
inspired that class with a firm confidence in his integrity
and ability; that, backed by them, he forced an unwilling
court and an unwilling oligarchy to admit him to an ample
shaie of power; and that he used his power in such a
manner as clearly proved that he had sought it, not for the
sake of profit or patronage, but from a wish to establish for
himself a great and durable reputation by means of eminent
services rendered to the state.”
A great many unmeaning phrases have been employed,
and much rhetorical exaggeration has been expended, in
attempts to characterize Lord Chatham’s style of eloquence.
Ibe following estimate by Lord Macaulay, from whom we
lave borrowed some of the foregoing observations, is at
once deep, discriminating, and brilliant.
n our time the audience of a member of Parliament is
ie naaon. he three or four hundred persons who may
,e l,rej,eat vv 1^n a speech is delivered may be pleased or
disgusted by the voice and action of the orator; but in the
reports which are read the next day bv hundreds ef
sands, the difference between the noblest and the meanest
figure, between the richest and the shrillest tones, between
the most graceful and the most uncouth gesture, altogether
vanishes. A hundred years ago, scarcely an^ report of
what passed within the walls of the House of Commons was
suffered to get abroad In those times, therefore, the im¬
pression which a speaker might make on the persons who
actually heard him was everything. The impression out of
doors was hardly worth a thought. In the Parliaments of
that time, therefore, as in the ancient commonwealths, those
qualifications which enhance the immediate effect of a
speech were far more important ingredients in the compo-
AllTho^11 0ri0rfthan S6y WOul(l aP!)ear t0 be in our time.
AH those qualifications Pitt possessed in the highest de-ree
On the stage, he would have been the finest Brutus or
Conolanus ever seen. Those who saw him in his decay
when ns health was broken, when his mind was jangled
when he had been removed from that stormy assembly of
which he thoroughly knew the temper, and over which he
possessed unbounded influence, to a small, a torpid, and an
unfriendly audience, say that his speaking was then for the
most part a low monotonous muttering, audible only to
those who sate close to him ; that, when violently excited
he sometimes raised his voice for a few minutes,' but that
it soon sank again into an unintelligible murmur. Such
was the Earl of Chatham ; but such was not William Pitt.
His figure, when he first appeared in Parliament, was strik¬
ingly graceful and commanding, his features high and noble
his eye full of fire. His voice, even when it sank to a
whisper, was heard to the remotest benches; when he
strained it to its full extent, the sound rose like the swell
of the organ of a great cathedral, shook the house with its
peal and was heard through lobbies and down staircases, to
the Court of Requests and the precincts of Westminster Hall.
He cultivated all these eminent advantages with the most
assiduous care. His action is described, by a very malig¬
nant observer, as equal to that of Garrick. His play of
countenance was wonderful; he frequently disconcerted a
hostile orator by a single glance of indignation or scorn.
Rvery tone, from the impassioned cry to the thrilling aside,
was perfectly at his command. It is by no means improb¬
able that the pains which he took to improve his great
personal advantages had in some respects a prejudicial'ope¬
ration, and tended to nourish in him that passion for thea¬
trical effect which was one of the most conspicuous ble¬
mishes in his character.
But it was not solely or principally to outward accom¬
plishments that Pitt owed the vast influence which, durino-
nearly thirty years, he exercised over the House of Com¬
mons. He was undoubtedly a great orator; and from the
descriptions of his contemporaries, and the fragments of
his speeches which still remain, it is not difficult to discover
the nature and extent of his oratorical powers.
He was no speaker of set speeches. His few prepared
discourses were complete failures. The elaborate pane¬
gyric which he pronounced on General Wolfe was consi¬
dered as the very worst of all his performances. “ No
man, says a critic who had often heard him, “ ever knew
so little what he was going to say.” Indeed, his facility
amounted to a vice; he was not the master, but the slave
of his own speech. So little self-command had he when
once he felt the impulse, that he did not like to take part
in a debate when his mind was full of an important secret
of state. “ I must sit still,” he once said to Lord Shelburne
on such an occasion, “ for when once I am up, everything
that is in my mind comes out.”
Yet he was not a great debater. That he should not
have been so when he first entered the House of Commons,
is not strange; scarcely any person has ever become so
without long practice and many failures. It was by slow
►"■Of)
Pitt.
724
PITT, EARL OF C H A T H A M.
Pitt.
degrees, as Burke said, that Mr Fox became the most bril¬
liant and powerful debater that Parliament evei saw. i i
Fox himself attributed his own success to the resolution
which he formed when very young, of speaking, well or
ill, at least once every night. “ During five whole ses¬
sions,” he used to say, “ I spoke every night butane; and
I regret only that I did not speak that night too. Indeed,
it would be difficult to name any great debater who has
not made himself a master ot his art at the expense o us
audience. ,
But as this art is one which even the ablest men have
seldom acquired without long practice, so it is one which
men of respectable abilities, with assiduous and intrepid
practice, seldom fail to acquire. It is singular that, in such
an art, Pitt, a man of splendid talents, great fluency, and
an an, x iti, u mem m   7 o - ]•
dauntless boldness, whose whole life was passed in pai ia-
mentary conflict, and who during several years was the
leading minister of the Crown in the House of Commons,
should never have attained to high excellence. He spoke
without premeditation ; but his speech followed the course
of his own thoughts, and not that of the previous discussion.
He could, indeed, treasure up in his memory some detached
expression of a hostile orator, and make it the text tor
sparkling ridicule or burning invective. Some of the most
celebrated bursts of his eloquence were called forth by an
unguarded word, a laugh, ora cheer. But this was the
only sort of reply in which he appears to have excelled.
He was perhaps the only great English orator who did not
think it an advantage to have the last word, and who gene¬
rally spoke by choice before his most formidable opponents.
His merit was almost entirely rhetorical. He did not suc¬
ceed either in exposition or refutation ; but his speeches
abounded with lively illustrations, striking apophthegms,
well-told anecdotes, happy allusions, passionate appeals.
His invective and sarcasm were tremendous. Perhaps no
English orator was ever so much feared.
But that which gave most effect to his declamation was
the air of sincerity, of vehement feeling, or moral elevation,
which belonged to all that he said. His style wras not
always in the purest taste. Several contemporary judges
pronounced it too florid. Walpole, in the midst ot the
rapturous eulogy which he pronounces on one of Pitt’s
greatest orations, owns that some of the metaphors were too
forced. The quotations and classical stories of the orator
are sometimes too trite for a clever school-boy. But these
were niceties for which the audience cared little. I he
enthusiasm of the orator infected all who were near him ;
his ardour and his noble bearing put fire into the most frigid
conceit, and gave dignity to the most puerile allusion.”
Such is the character of this great statesman and orator,
as drawn by one masterly hand. It may perhaps both in¬
struct and interest our readers if we present another, deli¬
neated by an artist equally distinguished for the vigour,
judgment, and fidelity with which he paints such grand
pieces for the gallery of history. The preceding, as we
have already said, is from the pen of Lord Macaulay; the
following is understood to be from that of Lord Brougham:—
“ The first place among the great qualities which distin¬
guished Lord Chatham is unquestionably due to firmness
of purpose, resolute determination in the pursuit of his
objects. This was the characteristic of the younger Brutus,
as he said, who had spared his life to fall by his hand,—
Qnicquid vult, id valde vult; and although extremely apt
to be shown in excess, it must be admitted to be the foun¬
dation of all true greatness of character. Everything, how¬
ever, depends upon the endowments in whose company it is
found; and in Lord Chatham these were of a very high
order. The quickness with which he could ascertain his
object, and discover his road to it, was fully commensurate
with his perseverance and his boldness in pursuing it; the
firmness ot grasp with which he held his advantage was
fully equalled by the rapidity of the glance with which he ^
discovered it. Add to this a mind eminently fertile in re¬
sources, a courage which nothing could daunt in the choice
of his means, a resolution equally indomitable in their ap¬
plication, a genius, in short, original and daring, which
bounded over the petty obstacles raised by ordinary men,—
their squeamishness, and their precedents, and their forms,
and their regularities,-—and forced away its path through
the entanglements of this base undergrowth to the worthy
object ever in his view, the prosperity and the renown of
his country. Far superior to the paltry objects of a gro¬
velling ambition, and regardless alike of party and of per¬
sonal considerations, he constantly set before his eyes the
highest duty of a public man, to further the interests of his
species. In pursuing his course towards that goal, he dis¬
regarded alike the frowns of power and the gales of popu¬
lar applause ; exposed himself undaunted to the vengeance
of the court, while he battled against its corruptions, and
confronted, unabashed, the rudest shocks of public indigna¬
tion, while he resisted the dictates of pernicious agitators;
and could conscientiously exclaim, with an illustrious states¬
man of antiquity, “ Ego hoc animo semper fui ut invidiam
virtute partam, gloriam non invidiam putarem.”
Nothing could be more entangled than the foreign po¬
licy of this country at the time when he took the supreme
direction of her affairs; nothing could be more disastrous
than the aspect of her fortunes in every quarter of the
With a single ally in Europe, the King of Prussia,
him beset by a combination of all the continental
Pitt.
globe.
and     -
powers in unnatural union to effect his destruction; with
an army of insignificant amount, and commanded by men
only desirous of grasping at the emoluments, without doing
the duties or incurring the risks of their profession ; with a
navy that could hardly keep the sea, and whose chiefs vied
with their comrades on shore in earning the character given
them by the new minister, of being utterly unfit to be
trusted in any enterprise accompanied with “ the least ap¬
pearance of danger;” with a generally prevailing dislike of
both services, which at once repressed all desire of joining
either, and damped all public spirit in the country, by ex¬
tinguishing all hope of success, and even all love of glory;
it was hardly possible for a nation to be placed in circum¬
stances more inauspicious to military exertions ; and yet war
raged in every quarter of the world where our dominion ex¬
tended, while the territories of our only ally, as well as those
of our own sovereign in Germany, were invaded by France,
and her forces by sea and land menaced our shores. In
the distant possessions of the Crown the same want of en¬
terprise and of spirit prevailed. Armies in the W est were
paralysed by the inaction of a captain who would hardly
take the pains to write a despatch recording the nonentity
of his operations; and in the East, while frightful disasters
were brought upon our settlements by barbarian powers,
the only military capacity that appeared in their defence
was the accidental display of genius and valour by a mer¬
chant’s clerk, who thus raised himself to celebrity (Mr>
afterwards Lord, Clive). In this forlorn state of affairs,
rendering it as impossible to think of peace as it seemed
hopeless to continue the yet inevitable war, the base and
sordid views of politicians kept pace with the mean spirit ot
the military caste; and parties were split or united, not
upon any difference or agreement of public principle, but
upon mere questions of patronage and share in the public
spoil, while all seemed alike actuated by one only passion,
the thirst alternately of power and of gain.
As soon as Mr Pitt took the helm, the steadiness of the
hand that held it came to be felt in every motion of the
vessel. There was no more of wavering councils, of torpid
inaction, of listless expectancy, of abject despondency. His
firmness gave confidence, his spirit roused courage, his vigi¬
lance secured exertion, in every department under his sway.
Pitt.
PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.
Each man from the first lord of the Admiralty down to the
most humble clerk in the victualling office—each soldier,
horn the commander-in-chief to the most obscure contrac¬
tor or commissary—now felt assured that he was acting or
indolent under the eye of one who knew his duties and his
means as well as his own, and who would very certainly
make all defaulters, whether through misfeasance or through
nonfeasance, accountable for whatever detriment the com¬
monwealth might sustain at their hands. Over his imme¬
diate coadjutors his influence swiftly obtained an ascendant
winch it ever after retained uninterrupted. Upon his first
proposition for changing the conduct of the war he stood
.mg e among ns colleagues, and tendered his resignation
should they persist in their dissent; they at once suc¬
cumbed, and from that hour ceased to have an opinion of
their own upon any branch of the public affairs. Nay, so
absolutely was he determined to have the control of those
measures of which he knew the responsibility rested upon
him alone, that he insisted upon the first lord of the Admi¬
ralty not having the correspondence of his own department •
and no less eminent a naval character than Lord Anson,
with Insjunior lords, were obliged to sign the orders issued by
uu 1 "ille the wri.tin£ was covered over from their eyes.
le eaf.ct® tIl‘s change in the whole management
of the public business, and in all the plans of the govern¬
ment, as well as in their execution, were speedily made
manifest to all the world. The German troips were sent
home, and a well-regulated militia being established to de¬
fend the country, a large disposable force u>as distributed
over the various points whence the enemy might be an¬
noyed. Trance, attacked on some points and menaced
on others, was compelled to retire from Germany, soon
afterwards suffered the most disastrous defeats, and, in¬
stead of threatening England and her allies with invasion,
had to defend herself against attack, suffering severely in
several of her most important naval stations. No less than
sixteen islands, and settlements, and fortresses of import-
anee, were taken from her in America, and Asia, and
rica, including all her West Indian colonies except St
Domingo, and all her settlements in the East. The whole
important province of Canada was likewise conquered •
and the Havannah was taken from Spain. Besides this’
the seas were swept clear of the fleets that had so lately
been insulting all our colonies, and even all our coasts,
^any general actions were fought and gained; one amonf
them the most decisive that had ever been fought by our
"fy* . Thirty-six sail of the line were taken or°destroyed,
fifty frigates, forty-five sloops of war. So brilliant a course
of uninterrupted success had never in modern times at¬
tended the arms of any nation carrying on war with other
states equal to it in civilization, and nearly a match in
power. But it is a more glorious feature in the unexampled
administration which history has to record when it adds,
that all public distress had disappeared ; all discontent in any
quarter, both of the colonies and parent state, had ceased ;
that no oppression was anywhere practised, no abuse suf¬
fered to prevail; that no encroachments were made upon
the rights of the subj'ect, no malversations tolerated in the
possessors of power; and that England, for the first time
and for the last time, presented the astonishing picture of
a nation supporting without murmur a widely extended
and costly war, and a people hitherto torn with conflicting
parties so united in the service of the commonwealth that
the voice of faction had ceased in the land, and any discord-
!cPer W£f heartl no more‘ “These,” said the son
o us first and most formidable adversary, Walpole, when
informing his correspondent abroad that the session, as
usua , a ended without any kind of opposition, or even of
ebate, These are the doings of Mr Pitt, and they are
wondrous in our eyes.”
I o genius irregularity is incident, and the greatest ge¬
nius is often marked by eccentricity, as if it disdained to
move in the vulgar orbit. Hence he who is fitted by his
nature, and trained by his habits, to be an accomplished
pilot in extremity,” and whose inclinations carry him
forth to seek the deep when the waves run high, may be
found, if not “ to steer too near the shore,” yet to despise
the sunken rocks which they that can only be trusted in
calm weather would have more surely avoided. To this
rule it cannot be said that Lord Chatham afforded any ex¬
ception ; and although a plot had certainly been formed
to eject him from the ministry, leaving the chief control
of affairs in the feeble hands of Lord Bute, whose only
support was court favour, and w hose only talent lay in an
expertness at intrigue, yet there can be little doubt that
this scheme was only rendered practicable by the hostility
which the great minister’s unbending habits, his contempt
of ordinary men, and his neglect of everyday matters, had
raised against him among all the creatures both of Dowmim--
Street and St James’s. In fact his colleagues, who ne¬
cessarily felt humbled by his superiority, were needlessly
mortified by the constant display of it; and it would have
betokened a still higher reach of understanding, as well as a
purer fabric of patriotism, if he whose great capacity threw
those subordinates into the shade, and before whose vigour in
action they were sufficiently willing to yield, had united a little
suavity in his demeanour with his extraordinary powers
nor made it always necessary for them to acknowledge as
well as to feel their inferiority. It is certain that the in¬
sulting arrangement of the Admiralty to which reference
has been already made, while it lowered that department
in the public opinion, rendered all connected with him his
personal enemies ; and indeed, though there have since
his days been prime ministers whom he would never have
suffered to sit even as puny lords at his boards, yet were
one like himself again to govern the country, the Admiralty
chief, who might be far inferior to Lord Anson, would never
submit to the humiliation inflicted upon that gallant and
skilful captain. Mr Pitt’s policy seemed formed upon the
assumption that either each public functionary was equal
to himself in boldness, activity, and resource, or that he was
to preside over and animate each department in person;
and his confidence was such in his own powers that he
reversed the maxim of governing, never to force your way
where you can win it, and always disdained to insinuate
where he could dash in, or to persuade where he could
command. It thus happened that his colleagues were
but nominally coadjutors, and though they durst not thwart
him, yet rendered no heart-service to aid his schemes.
Indeed it has clearly appeared since his time that they
were chiefly induced to yield him implicit obedience, and
leave the undivided direction of all operations in his hands,
by the expectation that the failure of what they were wont
to sneer at as “ Mr Pitt’s visions ” would turn the tide of
725
Pitt.
. .— wuliin luiii me uue or
public opinion against him, and prepare his downfall from
a height of which they felt that there was no one but him¬
self able to dispossess him.”
The same powerful writer, having thus sketched the cha¬
racter of the statesman, proceeds next to delineate that of
the orator, as far as this can now be done from the ex¬
tremely scanty and imperfect materials which have been
preserved. The fame of Lord Chatham’s eloquence is in
truth, almost wholly traditional.
“There is indeed hardly any eloquence, of ancient or of
modern times, of which so little that can be relied on as
authentic has been preserved ; unless perhaps that of Pe¬
ricles, Julius Caesar, and Lord Bolingbroke. Of the ac-
Uons of the two first we have sufficient records, as we have
of Lord Chatham’s ; of their speeches we have little that
can be regarded as genuine ; although, by unquestionable
tradition, we know that each of them was second only to
the greatest orator of their respective countries; while of
726
PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.
Pitt.
Bolingbroke we onlv know, from Dean Swift, that he was
the most accomplished speaker of his time; and it is le-
lated of Mr Pitt (the younger), that when the conversation
rolled upon lost works, and some said they should prefer
restoring the books of Livy, some of Tacitus, and some a
Latin trajredv, he at once decided for a speech of Boling¬
broke. \Yhat we know of his own father’s oratory is much
more to be gleaned from contemporary panegyrics, and
accounts of its effects, than from the scanty, and for the
most part doubtful, remains which have reached us.
All accounts, however, concur in representing those ef¬
fects to have been prodigious. The spirit and vehemence
which animated its greater passages, their perfect applica¬
tion to the subject-matter of debate, the appositeness ol
his invective to the individual assailed, the boldness of the
feats which he ventured upon, the grandeur of the ideas
which he unfolded, the heart-stirring nature of his appeals,
are all confessed by the united testimony of all his contem¬
poraries ; and the'fragments which remain bear out to a
considerable extent such representations; nor are we likely
to be misled by those fragments, for the more striking por¬
tions were certainly the ones least likely to be either tor-
gotten or fabricated. To these mighty attractions was
added the imposing, the animating, the commanding power
of a countenance singularly expressive ; an eye so piercing
that hardly anv one could* stand its glare ; and a manner
altogether singularly striking, original, and characteristic,
notwithstanding a peculiarly defective and even awkward
action. Latterly, indeed, his infirmities precluded all ac¬
tion ; and he is described as standing in the House of
Lords, leaning upon his crutch, and speaking for ten
minutes together in an under-tone of voice scarce!} audi¬
ble, but raising his notes to their full pitch when he broke
out into one of his grand bursts of invective or exclama¬
tion. But in his earlier time, his whole manner is repre¬
sented as having been beyond conception animated and
imposing. Indeed, the things which he effected by it prin¬
cipally, or at least which nothing but a most striking and
commanding tone could have made it possible to attempt,
almost exceed belief. Some of these sallies are indeed
examples of that approach made to the ludicrous by the
sublime which has been charged upon him as a prevailing
fault, and represented under the name of charlatanerie,—
a favourite phrase with his adversaries, as it in later times
has been with the ignorant undervaluers of Lord Erskine.
It is related that once in the House of Commons he be¬
gan a speech with the words, ‘‘ Sugar, Mr Speaker, and
then, observing a smile to prevail in the audience, he
paused, looking fiercely around, and with a loud voice, rising
in its notes, and swelling into vehement anger, he is said
to have pronounced again the word “ Sugar! three times,
—and having thus quelled the House, and extinguished
every appearance of levity or laughter, turned round and
disdainfully asked, “Who will laugh at sugar now?” We
have this "anecdote on good traditional authority ; that it
was believed by those who had the best means of knowing
Lord Chatham, is certain ; and this of itself shows their
sense of the extraordinary powers of his manner, and the
reach of his audacity in trusting to those powers.
There can be no doubt that of reasoning,—of sustained
and close argument,—his speeches had but little. His
statements were desultory though striking, perhaps not
very distinct, certainly not at all detailed, and as certainly
every wav inferior to* those of his celebrated son. If he
did not reason cogently, he assuredly did not compress his
matter vigorously. He was anything rather than a con¬
cise or a short speaker; not that his great passages were
at all diffuse, or in the least degree loaded with superfluous
words ; but he was prolix in the whole texture ol his dis¬
course, and he was certainly the first who introduced into
our senate the practice, adopted in the American war by
Mr Burke, and continued by others, of long speeches,—
speeches of two and three hours, by which oratory has v-
gained little and business less. His discourse was, how¬
ever, fully informed with matter—his allusions to analo¬
gous subjects, and his reference to the history of past
events were frequent—his expression of his own opinions
was copious and free, and stood very generally in the place
of any elaborate reasoning in their support. A noble state¬
ment of enlarged views, a generous avowal of dignified
sentiments, a manly and somewhat severe contempt for all
petty or mean views, whether their baseness proceeded
from narrow understanding or from corrupt bias, always
pervaded his whole discourse ; and, more than any other
orator since Demosthenes, he was distinguished by the
nobleness of feeling with which he regarded, and the am¬
plitude of survey which he cast upon, the subject-matters
of debate. His invective was unsparing and hard to be
endured, although he was a less eminent master of sar¬
casm than his son, and rather overwhelmed his antagonist
with the burst of words and vehement indignation, than
wounded him by the edge of ridicule, or tortured him with
the gall of bitter scorn, or fixed his arrow in the wound by
the barb of epigram. These things seemed as it were to
betoken too much labour and too much art; more labour
than w7as consistent with absolute scorn, more art than
could stand with heartfelt rage, or entire contempt inspired
by the occasion, at the moment, and on the spot. But his
great passages,—those by which he has come down to u?,
those which gave his eloquence its peculiar character, and
to which its dazzling success was owing,—were as sudden
and unexpected as they were natural. Every one was
taken bv surprise when they rolled forth ; every one fe.t
them to be so natural that he could hardly understand why
he had not thought of them himself, although into no one’s
imagination had they ever entered. If the quality ot being
natural without being obvious is a pretty correct description
of felicitous expression, or what is called fine writing, it is
a yet more accurate representation of fine passages or fe¬
licitous hits in speaking. In these all popular assemblies
take boundless delight; by these, above all others, are toe
minds of an audience at pleasure moved or controhed.
They form the grand charm of Lord Chatham s oratory ;
they were the distinguishing excellence ot his great prede¬
cessor, and gave him at will to wield the fierce democrac}
of Athens, and to fulmine over Greece.”
Many years ago, a small volume was published by Lord
Grenville, containing letters written by the Earl ot Chatham
to his nephew Thomas Pitt, Lord Cameltord. The} are
replete with excellent advice, conveyed in an easy, affec¬
tionate, and not inelegant style, having all ot tnem been
penned evidently without effort, under the simple impulse
of the kindly feelings and anxious interest which they ma¬
nifest throughout. At the same time, they might ha\e
been written by a person vastly inferior to Lord Chatham,
and indeed one can scarcely avoid surprise at the absence
of every trace of that genius, power, and originality tor
which the writer was so greatly distinguished.
Almon the bookseller has written Anecdotes or the Life
of the Earl of Chatham, 3 vols. 8vo ; the Rev. Mr Thackeray
has illustrated the subject more accurately, as well as fully,
in his History of the Earl of Chatham, 2 vols. 4to. None
of his own writings have been given to the world, except a
small volume of letters to the son ot his elder brother, atter-
■wards Lord Camelford, published some years ago by Lord
Grenville ; and his Correspondence, in 4 vols. 8yo, 18o8-40.
The Correspondence illustrates very fully his life and cha¬
racter, and furnishes valuable materials for the political his¬
tory of his time. His wife, who died in 1803, bore him
three sons and two daughters. The second son, the subject
of the next article, gained a political fame capable of rival¬
ling that of his illustrious father. (J- B E.)
Pitt.
727
PITT, AVILLIAM.
Pitt. William, the second son of William Pitt, Earl
^ Chatham, and of Eady Hester Grenville, daughter of
Hester, Countess Temple, was born on the 28th of May
1(09. The child inherited a name which, at the time of
his birth, was the most illustrious in the civilised world,
and was pronounced by every Englishman with pride, and
b> c'crv enemy ot England with mingled admiration and
terror. During the first year of his life, every month had
its illuminations and bonfires, and every wind brought some
messenger charged with joyful tidings and hostile standards.
In M estphalia the English infantry won a great battle
which arrested the armies of Louis the Fifteenth in the
midst or a career of conquest: Boscawen defeated one
French fleet on the coast of Portugal: Hawke put to flight
another in the Bay of Biscay: Johnson took Niagara:
Amherst took Ticonderoga : Wolfe died by the most
enviable of deaths under the walls of Quebec: Clive de¬
stroyed a Dutch armament in the Hoogley, and established
the English supremacy in Bengal: Coote routed Tally at
andewash, and established the English supremacy in the
Carnatic. The nation, while loudly applauding the suc¬
cessful w arriors, considered them all, on sea and on land,
in Europe, in America, and in Asia, merely as instruments
which received their direction from one superior mind.
It was the great W illiam Pitt, the great commoner, who
had vanquished French marshals in Germany, and French
admirals on the Atlantic; who had conquered for his
country one great empire on the frozen shores of Ontario,
and another under the tropical sun near the mouths of the
Ganges. It was not in the nature of things that popularity
such as he at this time enjoyed should be permanent. That
popularity had lost its gloss before his children were old
enough to understand that their father was a great man.
He was at length placed in situations in which neither his
talents for administration nor his talents for debate appeared
to the best advantage. The energy and decision which
had eminently fitted him for the direction of war were not
needed in time of peace. The lofty and spirit-stirring
eloquence, which had made him supreme in the House
of Commons, often fell dead on the House of Lords.
A cruel malady racked his joints, and left his joints only to
fall on his nerves and on his brain. During the closing
years of his life, he was odious to the court, and yet was
not on cordial terms with the great body of the opposition.
Chatham was only the ruin of Pitt, but an awful and ma¬
jestic ruin, not to be contemplated by any man of sense
and feeling without emotions resembling those which are
excited by the remains of the Parthenon and of the Coli¬
seum. In one respect the old statesman was eminently
happy. \\ hatever might be the vicissitudes of his public
life, he never failed to find peace and love by his own
hearth. He loved all his children, and was loved by them ;
and, of all his children, the one of whom he was fondest and
proudest was his second son.
flie child’s genius and ambition displayed themselves
with a rare and almost unnatural precocity. At seven, the
interest which he took in grave subjects, the ardour with
w hich he pursued his studies, and the sense and vivacity
o: his remarks on books and on events, amazed his parents
and instructors. One of his sayings of this date was re-
oorted to his mother by his tutor. In August 1766, when
the world was agitated by the news that Mr Pitt had be¬
come Earl ot Chatham, little William exclaimed, “ I am
g_ad that I am not the eldest son. I want to speak in the
House ot Commons like papa.” A letter is extant in which
Lady Chatham, a w oman ot considerable abilities, remarked
to her lord, that their younger son at twelve had left far
behind him his elder brother, who was fifteen. “ The fine¬
ness, she wrote, lk of \\ illiam’s mind makes him enjoy w ith
the greatest pleasure what would be above the reach of any
other creature of his small age.” At fourteen the lad was
in intellect a^man. Hayley, who met him at Lyme in the
summer of 1 /73, was astonished, delighted, and somewhat
overawed, by hearing wit and wisdom from so vouncr a
mouth. The poet, indeed, was afterwards sorry that "his
shyness had prevented him from submitting the plan of an
extensive literary work, which he was then meditating to
the judgment of this extraordinary boy. The boy, indeed
had already written a tragedy, bad of course, but not worse
than the tragedies of his friend. This piece is still pre¬
served at Chevening, and is in some respects highly curi¬
ous. There is no love. The whole plot is political; and
it is remarkable that the interest, such as it is, turns on a
contest about a regency. On one side is a faithful servant
ot the Crown, on the other an ambitious and unprincipled
con&piiator. At length the king, who had been missing;
reappears, resumes his power, and rewards the faithful
defender of his rights. A reader who should judge only
by internal evidence would have no hesitation in pronoun¬
cing that the play was written by some Pittite poetaster at
the time of the rejoicings for the recovery of George the
Third in 1789. °
The pleasure with which William’s parents observed the
rapid development of his intellectual powers was alloyed by
appi ehensions about his health. He shot up alarmingly fast;
he was often ill, and always weak; and it was feared that
it would be impossible to rear a stripling so tall, so slender,
and so feeble. Port wine was prescribed by his medical
advisers ; and it is said that he was, at fourteen, accustomed
to take this agreeable physic in quantities which would, in
our abstemious age, be thought much more than sufficient
for any full-grown man. This regimen, though it would pro¬
bably have killed ninety-nine boys out of a hundred, seems
to have been well suited to the peculiarities of William’s
constitution ; for at fifteen he ceased to be molested bv dis¬
ease, and, though never a strong man,continued, during many
years of labour and anxiety, of nights passed in debase and
of summers passed in London, to be a tolerably healthy
one. It was probably on account of the delicacy of his
frame that he was not educated like other boys of the same
rank. Almost all the eminent English statesmen and ora¬
tors to whom he was afterwards opposed or allied, North,
Fox, Shelburne, Windham, Grey, Wellesley, Grenville’
Sheridan, Canning, went through the training of great
public schools. Lord Chatham had himself been a^ dis¬
tinguished Etonian ; and it is seldom that a distinguished
Etonian forgets his obligations to Eton. But William’s in¬
firmities required a vigilance and tenderness such as could
be found only at home. He was therefore bred under the pa¬
ternal roof. His studies were superintended by a clergyman
named Wilson ; and those studies, though often interrupted
by illness, were prosecuted with extraordinary success.
Before the lad had completed his fifteenth year, his know¬
ledge both of the ancient languages and of mathematics was
such as very few men of eighteen then carried up to col¬
lege. He was therefore sent, towards the close of the year
1773, to Pembroke Hall, in the university of Cambrido-e.
So young a student required much more than the ordinary
caie which a college tutor bestows on undergraduates.
The governor, to whom the direction of William’s acade¬
mical life was confided, was a bachelor of arts named
I letvman, who had been senior wrangler in the preceding
Pitt,
William.
728 PITT, W
Pitt, year, and who, though not a man of prepossessing appearance
William. or brilliant parts, was eminently acute and laborious, a
v'—sound scholar, and an excellent geometrician. At Cam¬
bridge, Pretyman was, during more than two years, the in¬
separable companion, and indeed almost the only companion,
of his pupil. A close and lasting friendship sprang up
between the pair. The disciple was able, before he com¬
pleted his twenty-eighth year, to make his preceptor bishop
of Lincoln and dean" of St Paul’s; and the preceptor showed
his gratitude by writing a Life of the disciple, which enjoys
the distinction of being the worst biographical work ol its
size in the world.
Pitt, till he graduated, had scarcely one acquaintance,
attended chapel regularly morning and evening, dined every
day in hall, and never went to a single evening party. At
seventeen, he was admitted, after the bad fashion of those
times, by right of birth, without any examination, to the de¬
gree of Master of Arts. But he continued during some
years to reside at college, and to apply himself vigorously,
under Pretyman’s direction, to the studies of the place,
while mixing freely in the best academic society.
The stock of learning which Pitt laid in during this part
of his life was certainly very extraordinary. In fact, it was
all that he ever possessed; for he very early became too
busy to have any spare time for books. The work in which
he took the greatest delight was Newton’s Principia. His
liking for mathematics, indeed, amounted to a passion, which,
in the opinion of his instructors, themselves distinguished
mathematicians, required to be checked rather than en¬
couraged. The acuteness and readiness with which he
solved problems was pronounced by one of the ablest of the
moderators, who in those days presided over the disputa¬
tions in the schools, and conducted the examinations of the
Senate-House, to be unrivalled in the university. Nor was
the youth’s proficiency in classical learning less remarkable.
In one respect, indeed, he appeared to disadvantage when
compared with even second-rate and third-rate men from
public schools. He had never, while under Wilson’s care,
been in the habit of composing in the ancient languages;
and he therefore never acquired that knack of versification
which is sometimes possessed by clever boys whose know¬
ledge of the language and literature of Greece and Rome
is very superficial. It would have been utterly out of his
power to produce such charming elegiac lines as those in
which Wellesley bade farewell to Eton, or such Virgilian
hexameters as those in which Canning described the pil¬
grimage to Mecca. But it may be doubted whether any
scholar has ever, at twenty, had a more solid and profound
knowledge of the two great tongues of the old civilised
world. The facility with which he penetrated the mean¬
ing of the most intricate sentences in the Attic writers
astonished veteran critics. He had set his heart on being
intimately acquainted with all the extant poetry of Greece,
and was not satisfied till he had mastered Lycophron’s
Cassandra, the most obscure work in the whole range of
ancient literature. This strange rhapsody, the difficulties of
which have perplexed and repelled many excellent scholars,
“ he read,” says his preceptor, “ with an ease at first sight,
which, if I had not witnessed it, I should have thought
beyond the compass of human intellect.”
To modern literature Pitt paid comparatively little at¬
tention. He knew no living language except French ; and
French he knew very imperfectly. With a few of the best
English writers he was intimate, particularly with Shak-
speare and Milton. The debate in Pandemonium was, as
it well deserved to be, one of his favourite passages ; and
his early friends used to talk, long after his death, of the
just emphasis and the melodious cadence with which they
had heard him recite the incomparable speech of Belial.
He had indeed been carefully trained from infancy in the
art of managing his voice, a voice naturally clear and deep-
IL L 1 A M.
toned. His father, whose oratory owed no small part of its Pitt,
effect to that art, had been a most skilful and judicious in- William,
structor. At a later period, the wits of Brookes’s, irritated
by observing, night after night, how powerfully Pitt’s
sonorous elocution fascinated the rows of country gentlemen,
reproached him with having been “ taught by his dad on a
stool.”
His education, indeed, was wrell adapted to form a great
parliamentary speaker. One argument often urged against
those classical studies which occupy so large a part of
the early life of every gentleman bred in the south of
our island is, that they prevent him from acquiring a com¬
mand of his mother tongue, and that it is not unusual to
meet with a youth of excellent parts, who writes Ciceronian
Latin prose and Horatian Latin Alcaics, but who would
find it impossible to express his thoughts in pure, perspicu¬
ous, and forcible English. There may perhaps be some
truth in this observation. But the classical studies of Pitt
were carried on in a peculiar manner, and had the effect
of enriching his English vocabulary, and of making him
wonderfully expert in the art of constructing correct Eng¬
lish sentences. His practice was to look over a page or
two of a Greek or Latin author, to make himself master of
the meaning, and then to read the passage straight forward
into his own language. This practice, begun under his first
teacher Wilson, was continued under Pretyman. It is not
strange that a young man of great abilities, who had been
exercised daily in this way during ten years, should have
acquired an almost unrivalled power of putting his thoughts,
without premeditation, into words well selected and well
arranged.
Of all the remains of antiquity, the orations were those
on which he bestowed the most minute examination. His
favourite employment was to compare harangues on opposite
sides of the same question, to analyse them, and to observe
which of the arguments of the first speaker were refuted by
the second, which were evaded, and which were left un¬
touched. Nor was it only in books that he at this time
studied the art of parliamentary fencing. When he was
at home, he had frequent opportunities of hearing important
debates at Westminster ; and helieard them, not only with
interest and enjoyment, but with a close scientific attention
resembling that with which a diligent pupil at Guy’s Hos¬
pital watches every turn of the hand of a great surgeon
through a difficult operation. On one of these occasions,
Pitt, a youth whose abilities were as yet known only to his
own family and to a small knot of college friends, was in¬
troduced on the steps of the throne in the House of Lords
to Fox, who wras his senior by eleven years, and who was
already the greatest debater, and one of the greatest
orators, that had appeared in England. Fox used afterwards
to relate that, as the discussion proceeded, Pitt repeatedly
turned to him, and said, “ But surely, Mr Fox, that might
be met thus or, “ Yes ; but he lays himself open to this
retort.” What the particular criticisms were Fox had for¬
gotten ; but he said that he was much struck at the time by
the precocity of a lad who, through the whole sitting, seemed
to be thinking only how all the speeches on both sides could
be answered.
One of the young man’s visits to the House of Lords
wTas a sad and memorable era in his life. He had not quite
completed his nineteenth year, when, on the 7th of April
1778, he attended his father to Westminster. A great de¬
bate was expected. It was known that France had recog¬
nised the independence of the United States. The Duke
of Richmond was about to declare his opinion that all
thought of subjugating those states ought to be relinquished.
Chatham had always maintained that the resistance of the
colonies to the mother country was justifiable. But he
conceived, very erroneously, that on the day on which
their independence should be acknowledged the greatness
Pitt,
William
England would be at an end. Though sinking under
the weight of years and infirmities, he determined, in spite
of the entreaties of his family, to be in his place. His son
supported him to a seat. The excitement and exertion
were too much for the old man. In the very act of ad¬
dressing the peers, he fell back in convulsions. A few
weeks later his corpse was borne, with gloomy pomp, from
the 1 ainted Chamber to the Abbey. The favourite child
and namesake of the deceased statesman followed the coffin
as chief mourner, and saw' it deposited in the transept where
his own was destined to lie.
His elder brother, now Earl of Chatham, had means suf¬
ficient, and barely sufficient, to support the dignity of the
peerage. The other members of the family were poorly
provided for. William had little more than three hundred
a year. It was necessary for him to follow a profession,
fie had already begun to eat his terms. In the spring
of 1 , 80 he came of age. He then quitted Cambridge, was
called to the bar, took chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, and
joined the western circuit. In the autumn of that year
a general election took place; and he offered himself as a
candidate for the university; but he was at the bottom of
the poll. It is said that the grave doctors who then sate
robed in scarlet, on the benches of Golgotha, thought it
great presumption in so young a man to solicit so high a
distinction. He was, however, at the request of a heredi¬
tary friend, the Duke of .Rutland, brought into Parliament
by 8ir James Lowther for the borough of Appleby.
The dangers of the country were at that time such as
might well have disturbed even a constant mind. Army
after army had been sent in vain against the rebellious
colonists of rvorth America. On pitched fields of battle
the advantage had been with the disciplined troops of the
mother country. But it was not on pitched fields of battle
that the event of such a contest could be decided. An
armed nation, with hunger and the Atlantic for auxiliaries
was not to be subjugated. Meanwhile the House of Bour¬
bon, humbled to the dust a few years before by the genius
and vigour of Chatham, had seized the opportunity of re¬
venge. France and Spain were united against us, and had
recently been joined by Holland. The command of the
Mediterranean had been for a time lost. The British fla"-
had been scarcely able to maintain itself in the British
Channel. I he northern powers professed neutrality ; but
their neutrality had a menacing aspect. In the East, Hyder
had descended on the Carnatic, had destroyed the little
army of Baillie, and had spread terror even to the ramparts
of fort Saint George. The discontents of Ireland threat¬
ened nothing less than civil war. In England the authority
of the government had sunk to the lowest point. The Kino-
and the House of Commons were alike unpopular. The
cry for parliamentary reform was scarcely less loud and
vehement than in the autumn of 1830. Formidable asso¬
ciations, headed, not by ordinary demagogues, but by men
of high rank, stainless character, and distinguished ability,
demanded a revision of the representative system. The
populace, emboldened by the impotence and irresolution of
the government, had recently broken loose from all restraint
besieged the chambers of the legislature, hustled peers,
hunted bishops, attacked the residences of ambassadors,
opened prisons, burned and pulled down houses. London
had presented during some days the aspect of a city taken
by storm ; and it had been necessary to form a camp among
the trees of Saint James’s Park.
In spite of dangers and difficulties abroad and at home,
George the Third, with a firmness which had little affinity
wit virtue or with wisdom, persisted in his determination
to put down the American rebels by force of arms; and
is ministers submitted their judgment to his. Some of
them were probaMy actuated merely by selfish cupidity;
but their chief, Lord North, a man of high honour, amiable
VOL. XVII.
PITT, WILLIAM.
729
temper, winning manners, lively wit, and excellent talents Pitt
both for business and for debate, must be acquitted of all William
sordid motives. He remained at a post from which he V
had long wished and had repeatedly tried to escape, only
because he had not sufficient fortitude to resist the entreaties
and reproaches of the King, who silenced all arguments by
passionately asking whether any gentleman, any man of
spirit, could ha.ve the heart to desert a kind master in the
hour of extremity.
The opposition consisted of two parties which had once
been hostile to each other, and which had been very slowly
and as it soon appeared, very imperfectly reconciled, but
which at this conjuncture seemed to act together with
cordiality. The larger of these parties consisted of the
great body of the Whig aristocracy. Its head was Charles,
Marquess of llockingham, a man of sense and virtue and
m wealth and parliamentary interest equalled by very few
of the English nobles, but afflicted with a nervous timidity
which prevented him from taking a prominent part in de¬
bate. In the House of Commons, the adherents of Rock-
ingham were led by Fox, whose dissipated habits and
ruined fortunes were the talk of the whole town, but
whose commanding genius, and whose sweet, generous,
and affectionate disposition, extorted the admiration and
love of those who most lamented the errors of his private
hie. Burke, superior to Fox in largeness of comprehen¬
sion, in extent of knowledge, and in splendour of imagina¬
tion, but less skilled in that kind of logic and in that kind of
rhetoric which convince and persuade great assemblies, was
willing to be the lieutenant of a young chief who midit
have been his son. a
i L.s”laller section of the opposition was composed of the
old followers °f Chatham. At their head was William,
Earl of Shelburne, distinguished both as a statesman and
as a lover of science and letters. With him were leagued
Lord Camden, who had formerly held the Great Seal," and
whose integrity, ability, and constitutional knowledge com¬
manded the public respect; Barre, an eloquent and acri¬
monious declaimer; and Dunning, who had long held the
first place at the English bar. It was to this party that
I itt was naturally attracted.
. Pn ^le February 1781 he made his first speech
in favour of Burke’s plan of economical reform. Fox stood
up at the same moment, but instantly gave wav. The
’ofty yet animated deportment of the young member his
perfect self-possession, the readiness with which he replied
to the orators who had preceded him, the silver tones of
is voice, the perfect structure of his unpremeditated
sentences, astonished and delighted his hearers. Burke
moved even to tears, exclaimed, “ It is not a chip of the
old block ; it is the old block itself.” “ Pitt will be one of
the first men in Parliament,” said a member of the oppo¬
sition to Fox. “ He is so already,” answered Fox, in
whose nature envy had no place. It is a curious fact, well
remembered by some who were very recently living, that
soon after this debate Pitt’s name was put up by Fox at
Brookes’s.
On two subsequent occasions during that session Pitt
addressed the House, and on both fully sustained the repu¬
tation which he had acquired on his first appearance.
In the summer, after the prorogation, he again went the
western circuit, held several briefs, and acquitted himself
m such a manner that he was highly complimented by
Buller from the bench, and by Dunning at the bar.
On the 27th of November the Parliament reassembled.
Only forty-eight hours before had arrived tidino-s of the*
surrender of Cornwallis and his army; and it had conse¬
quently been necessary to rewrite the royal speech. Every
man in the kingdom, except the King, was now convinced
that it was mere madness to think of conquering the United
States. In the debate on the report of the address, Pitt
730
I’itt,
William.
PITT, W
spoke with even more energy and brilliancy than on any
former occasion. He was warmly applauded by his allies ;
but it was remarked that no person on his own side ot the
house was so loud in eulogy as Henry Dundas, the Lord
Advocate of Scotland, who spoke from the ministerial
ranks. That able and versatile politician distinctly foresaw
the approaching downfall of the government with which
he was connected, and was preparing to make his own
escape from the ruin. From that night dates his connec¬
tion with Pitt, a connection which soon became a close
intimacy, and which lasted till it was dissolved by death.
About a fortnight later, Pitt spoke in the committee
of supply on the army estimates. Symptoms of dissen¬
sion had begun to appear on the Treasury bench. Lord
George Germaine, the Secretary of State who was especially
charged with the direction of the war in America, had
heldlanguage not easily to be reconciled with declarations
made by the First Lord of the Treasury. Pitt noticed the
discrepancy with much force and keenness. Lord George
and Lord North began to whisper together; and Welbore
Ellis, an ancient placeman who had been drawing salary
almost every quarter since the days of Henry Pelham, bent
down between them to put in a word. Such interruptions
sometimes discompose veteran speakers. Pitt stopped, and,
looking at the group, said, with admirable readiness, ‘ I shall
wait till Nestor has composed the dispute between Aga¬
memnon and Achilles.” .
After several defeats, or victories hardly to be distin¬
guished from defeats, the ministry resigned. The King,
reluctantly and ungraciously, consented to accept Rocking¬
ham as first minister. Fox and Shelburne became Secre¬
taries of State. Lord John Cavendish, one of the most
upright and honourable of men, was made Chancellor of
the Exchequer. Thurlow, whose abilities and force of
character had made him the dictator of the House of
Lords, continued to hold the great seal.
To Pitt was offered, through Shelburne, the Vice-Trea-
surership of Ireland, one of the easiest and most highly
paid places in the gift of the Crown; but the offer was,
without hesitation, declined. The young statesman had
resolved to accept no post which did not entitle him to a
seat in the cabinet; and a few days later, he announced
that resolution in the House of Commons. It must be
remembered that the cabinet was then a much smaller and
more select body than at present. We have seen cabinets
of sixteen. In the time of our grandfathers a cabinet of
ten or eleven was thought inconveniently large. Seven was
an usual number. Even Burke, who had taken the lucra¬
tive office of Paymaster, was not in the cabinet. Many
therefore thought Pitt’s declaration indecent. He himself
was sorry that he had made it. The words, he said in
private, had escaped him in the heat of speaking; and he
had no sooner uttered them than he would have given the
world to recall them. They, however, did him no harm
with the public. The second William Pitt, it was said,
had shown that he had inherited the spirit, as well as the
genius, of the first. In the son, as in the father, there
might perhaps be too much pride ; but there was nothing
low or sordid. It might be called arrogance in a young
barrister, living in chambers on three hundred a year, to
refuse a salary of five thousand a year, merely because he
did not choose to bind himself to speak or vote for plans
which he had no share in framing; but surely such arro¬
gance was not very far removed from virtue.
Pitt gave a general support to the administration of
Rockingham, but omitted, in the meantime, no opportunity
of courting that Ultra-Whig party which the persecution
of Wilkes and the Middlesex election had called into ex¬
istence, and which the disastrous events of the war, and the
triumph ot republican principles in America, had made for¬
midable both in numbers and in temper. He supported a
IL LIA M.
motion for shortening the duration of Parliaments. He Pitt,
made a motion for a committee to examine into the state William,
of the representation, and, in the speech by which that v'—
motion was introduced, avowed himself the enemy of the
close boroughs, the strongholds of that corruption to which
he attributed all the calamities of the nation, and which, as
he phrased it in one of those exact and sonorous sentences
of which he had a boundless command, had grown with the
growth of England and strengthened with her strength, but
had not diminished with her diminution or decayed with
her decay. On this occasion he was supported by Fox.
The motion was lost by only twenty votes in a house of
more than three hundred members. The reformers never
again had so good a division till the year 1831.
" The new administration was strong in abilities, and was
more popular than any administration which had held office
since the first year of George the Third, but was hated by
the King, hesitatingly supported by the Parliament, and torn
by internal dissensions. The Chancellor was disliked and
distrusted by almost all his colleagues. The two Secre¬
taries of State regarded each other with no friendly feeling.
The line between their departments had not been traced
with precision; and there were consequently jealousies,
encroachments, and complaints. It was all that Rocking¬
ham could do to keep the peace in his cabinet; and, before
the cabinet had existed three months, Rockingham died.
In an instant all was confusion. The adherents of the
deceased statesman looked on the Duke of Portland as
their chief. The King placed Shelburne at the head of the
Treasury. Fox, Lord John Cavendish, and Burke, imme¬
diately resigned their offices; and the new prime minister
was left to constitute a government out of very defective
materials. His own parliamentary talents were great; but
he could not be in the place where parliamentary talents
were most needed. It was necessary to find some member
of the House of Commons who could confront the great
orators of the opposition ; and Pitt alone had the eloquence
and the courage which were required. He was offered the
great place of Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he accepted
it. He had scarcely completed his twenty-third year.
The Parliament was speedily prorogued. During the
recess, a negotiation for peace which had been commenced
under Rockingham was brought to a successful termination.
England acknowledged the independence of her revolted
colonies; and she ceded to her European enemies some
places in the Mediterranean and in the Gulf of Mexico.
But the terms which she obtained were quite as advanta¬
geous and honourable as the events of the war entitled her
to expect, or as she was likely to obtain by perseveiing in
a contest against immense odds. All her vital parts, all
the real sources of her power, remained uninjured. She
preserved even her dignity; for she ceded to the House of
Bourbon only part of what she had won from that House
in previous wars. She retained her Indian empire un¬
diminished ; and, in spite of the mightiest efforts ot two
great monarchies, her flag still waved on the rock of Gib¬
raltar. There is not the slightest reason to believe that
Fox, if he had remained in office, would have hesitated one
moment about concluding a treaty on such conditions.
Unhappily that great and most amiable man was, at this
crisis, hurried by his passions into an error which made his
genius and his virtues, during a long course of years, almost
useless to his country.
He saw that the great body of the House of Commons
was divided into three parties, his own, that of North, and
that of Shelburne; that none of those three parties was^
large enough to stand alone; that, therefore, unless two of
them united, there must be a miserably feeble administra¬
tion, or, more probably, a rapid succession of miserably
feeble administrations, and this at a time when a strong
government was essential to the prosperity and respecta-
PITT, WILLIAM
Pitt, bility of the nation. It was then necessary and right that
William.^ there should be a coalition. To every possible coalition
'*r '/ V there were objections. But, of all possible coalitions, that
to which there were the fewest objections was undoubt¬
edly a coalition between Shelburne and Fox. It would
have been generally applauded by the followers of both.
It might have been made without any sacrifice of public
principle on the part of either. Unhappily, recent bicker¬
ings had left in the mind of Fox a profound dislike and dis¬
trust of Shelburne. Pitt attempted to mediate, and was
authorised to invite Fox to return to the service of the
Crown. “ Is Lord Shelburne,” said Fox, “ to remain prime
minister?” Pitt answered in the affirmative. “It is im¬
possible that I can act under him,” said Fox. “ Then
negotiation is at an end,” said Pitt; “ for I cannot betray
him. Thus the two statesmen parted. They were never
again in a private room together.
As Fox and his friends would not treat with Shelburne,
nothing remained to them but to treat with North. That
fatal coalition which is emphatically called “ The Coalition”
was formed. Not three quarters of a year had elapsed since
Fox and Burke had threatened North with impeachment,
and had described him, night after night, as the most ar¬
bitrary, the most corrupt, the most incapable of ministers.
They now allied themselves with him for the purpose of
driving from office a statesman with whom they cannot be
said to have differed as to any important question. Nor
had they even the prudence and the patience to wait for
some occasion on which they might, without inconsistency,
have combined with their old enemies in opposition to the
government. That nothing might be wanting to the
scandal, the great orators who had, during seven years,
thundered against the war, determined to join with the
authors of that war in passing a vote of censure on the
peace.
The Parliament met before Christmas 1782. But it was
not till January 1783 that the preliminary treaties were
signed. On the 17th of February they were taken into
consideration by the House of Commons. There had
been, during some days, floating rumours that Fox and
North had coalesced; and the debate indicated but too
clearly that those rumours were not unfounded. Pitt was
suffering from indisposition: he did not rise till his own
strength and that of his hearers were exhausted; and he
was consequently less successful than on any former occa¬
sion. His admirers owned that his speech was feeble and
petulant. He so far forgot himself as to advise Sheridan
to confine himself to amusing theatrical audiences. This
ignoble sarcasm gave Sheridan an opportunity of retorting
with great felicity. “ After what I have seen and heard
to-night,” he said, “ I really feel strongly tempted to ven¬
ture on a competition with so great an artist as Ben Jonson,
and to bring on the stage a second Angry Boy.” On a
division, the address proposed by the supporters of the
government was rejected by a majority of sixteen.
But Pitt was not a man to be disheartened by a single
failure, or to be put down by the most lively repartee.
When, a few days later, the opposition proposed a resolu¬
tion directly censuring the treaties, he spoke with an
eloquence, energy, and dignity, which raised his fame and
popularity higher than ever. To the coalition of Fox and
North he alluded in language which drew forth tumultuous
applause from his followers. “ If,” he said, “ this ill-
omened and unnatural marriage be not yet consummated,
I know of a just and lawful impediment; and, in the name
of the public weal, I forbid the banns.”
1 he ministers were again left in a minority, and Shel¬
burne consequently tendered his resignation. It was ac¬
cepted : but the King struggled long and hard before he
submitted to the terms dictated by Fox, whose faults he
detested, and whose high spirit and powerful intellect he
detested still more. The first place at the board of Trea¬
sury was repeatedly offered to Pitt: but the offer, though
tempting, was steadfastly declined. The young man, whose
judgment was as precocious as his eloquence, saw that his
time was coming, but was not come, and was deaf to royal
importunities and reproaches. His Majesty, bitterly com¬
plaining of Pitt’s faintheartedness, tried to break the coali¬
tion. Every art of seduction was practised on North, but
in vain. During several weeks the country remained
without a government. It was not till all devices had
failed, and till the aspect of the House of Commons became
threatening, that the King gave wav. The Duke of Port¬
land was declared First Lord of the Treasury. Thurlow
was dismissed. Fox and North became Secretaries of
State, with power ostensibly equal. But Fox was the real
prime minister.
The year was far advanced before the new arrangements
were completed ; and nothing very important was done
during the remainder of the session. Pitt, now seated on
the opposition bench, brought the question of parliamentary
reform a second time under the consideration of the Com¬
mons. He proposed to add to the House at once a hun¬
dred county members and several members for metropo¬
litan districts, and to enact that every borough of which an
election committee should report that the majority of voters
appeared to be corrupt should lose the franchise. The
motion was rejected by 293 votes to 149.
After the prorogation, Pitt visited the Continent for the
first and last time. His travelling companion was one of
his most intimate friends, a young man of his own age, who
had already distinguished himself in Parliament by an en-
gaging natural eloquence, set off by the sweetest and most
exquisitely modulated of human voices, and whose affec¬
tionate heart, caressing manners, and brilliant wit, made
him tirn most delightful of companions, William Wilber-
force. That was the time of Anglomania in France; and
at Paris the son of the great Chatham was absolutely
hunted by men of letters and women of fashion, and forced,
much against his will, into political disputation. One re¬
markable saying which dropped from him during this tour
has been preserved. A French gentleman expressed some
surprise at the immense influence which Pfox, a man of
pleasure, ruined by the dice-box and the turf, exercised
over the English nation. “You have not,” said Pitt,
“ been under the wand of the magician.”
In November 1783 the Parliament met again. The
government had irresistible strength in the House of Com¬
mons, and seemed to be scarcely less strong in the House
of Lords, but was, in truth, surrounded on every side by
dangers. The King was impatiently waiting for the moment
at which he could emancipate himself from a yoke which
galled him so severely that he had more than once seriously
thought of retiring to Hanover; and the King was scarcely
more eager for a change than the nation. Fox and North
had committed a fatal error. They ought to have known
that coalitions between parties which have long been hos¬
tile can succeed only when the wish for coalition pervades
the lower ranks of both. If the leaders unite before there
is any disposition to union among the followers, the proba¬
bility is that there will be a mutiny in both camps, and
that the two revolted armies will make a truce with each
other, in order to be revenged on those by whom they
think that they have been betrayed. Thus it was in 1783.
At the beginning of that eventful year, North had been
the recognised head of the old Tory party, which, though
for a moment prostrated by the disastrous issue of the
American war, was still a great power in the state. To
him the clergy, the universities, and that large body of
country gentlemen whose rallying cry was “ Church and
King, had long looked up with respect and confidence.
Fox had, on the other hand, been the idol of the Whigs,
731
Pitt,
William.
732
Pitt,
William.
PITT W IL L I A- M.
and of the whole body of Protestant dissenters. The
coalition at once alienated the most zealous lone, from
North, and the most zealous Wings from Fox. The
versity of Oxford, which had marked its approbation ot
North’s orthodoxy by electing him chancellor, the city o
London, which had been, during two and twenty years, at
war with the Court, were equally disgusted. Squires an
rectors, who had inherited the principles of the cavaliers o
the preceding century, could not forgive their old leader
for combining with disloyal subjects m order to put a fore
on the sovereign. The members of the Bill of Rig
Society and of the Reform Associations were enraged by
learning that their favourite orator now called the great
champion of tyranny and corruption his noble fnen .
great multitudes were at once left without any hea ,
both at once turned their eyes on Pitt. One party saw i
him the only man who could rescue the King; the other
saw in him the only man who could purify the P^ha™^*
He was supported on one side by Archbishop Markham,
the preacher of divine right, and by Jenkinson, the captain
of the Praetorian band of the King’s friends; on the other side
by Jebb and Priestley, Sawbridge and Cartwright, Jack
Wilkes and Horne Tooke. On the benches of the House
of Commons, however, the ranks of the ministerial majority
were unbroken; and that any statesman would venture to
brave such a majority was thought impossible. No prince
of the Hanoverian line had ever, under any provocation,
ventured to appeal from the representative body to the
constituent body. The ministers, therefore, notwithstand¬
ing the sullen looks and muttered words of displeasure with
which their suggestions were received in the closet, not¬
withstanding the roar of obloquy which was rising louder
and louder every day from every corner of the island,
thought themselves secure.
Such was their confidence in their strength that, as soon
as the Parliament had met, they brought forward a singu¬
larly bold and original plan for the government ot the
British territories in India. What was proposed was
that the whole authority, which till that time had been ex¬
ercised over those territories by the East India Company,
should be transferred to seven commissioners who were
to be named by Parliament, and were not to be removable
at the pleasure of the Crown. Earl Fitzwilliam, the most
intimate personal friend of Fox, was to be chairman of this
board, and the eldest son of North was to be one of the
members.
As soon as the outlines of the scheme were known, all
the hatred which the coalition had excited burst forth with
an astounding explosion. The question which ought un¬
doubtedly to have been considered as paramount to every
other was, whether the proposed change was likely to be
beneficial or injurious to the thirty millions of people who
were subject to the Company. But that question cannot
be said to have been even seriously discussed. Burke, who,
whether right or wrong in the conclusions to which he came,
had at least the merit of looking at the subject in the right
point of view, vainly I’eminded his hearers of that mighty
population whose daily rice might depend on a vote of the
British Parliament. He spoke, with even more than his
wonted power of thought and language, about the desolation
of Rohilcund, about the spoliation of Benares, about the
evil policy which had suffered the tanks of the Carnatic
to go to ruin ; but he could scarcely obtain a hearing. The
contending parties, to their shame it must be said, would
listen to none but English topics. Out of doors the cry
against the ministry was almost universal. Town and coun¬
try were united. Corporations exclaimed against the viola¬
tion of the charter of the greatest corporation in the realm.
Tories and democrats joined in pronouncing the proposed
board an unconstitutional body. It was to consist of Fox’s
nominees. The effect of his bill was to give, not to the
Crown, but to him personally, whether in office or in oppo¬
sition, an enormous power, a patronage sufficient to counter-
balance the patronage of the Treasury and of the Admiralty, v-
and to decide the elections for fifty boroughs. He knew, it
was said, that he was hateful alike to King and people ; and
he had devised a plan which would make him independent of
both. Some nicknamed him Cromwell, and some Carlo
Khan. Wilberforce, with his usual felicity of expression,
and with very unusual bitterness of feeling, described the
scheme as the genuine offspring of the coalition, as marked
with the features of both its parents, the corruption of one
and the violence of the other. In spite of all opposition,
however, the bill was supported in every stage by great
majorities, was rapidly passed, and was sent up to the Lords.
To the general astonishment, when the secoi^d reading
was moved in the Upper House, the opposition proposed
an adjournment, and carried it by eighty-seven votes to
seventy-nine. The cause of this strange turn of fortune
was soon known. Pitt’s cousin, Earl Temple, had been
in the royal closet, and had there been authorised to let it
be known that His Majesty would consider all who voted
for the bill as his enemies. The ignominious commission
was performed, and instantly a troop of Lords of the
Bedchamber, of Bishops who wished to be translated, and
of Scotch peers who wished to be re-elected, made haste
to change sides. On a later day, the Lords rejected the
bill. Fox and North were immediately directed to send
their seals to the palace by their Under Secretaries; and
Pitt was appointed I irst Lord of the Treasury and Chan¬
cellor of the Exchequer.
The general opinion was, that there would be an imme¬
diate dissolution. But Pitt wisely determined to give the
public feeling time to gather strength. On this point he
differed from his kinsman Temple. The consequence was,
that Temple, who had been appointed one of the Secre¬
taries of State, resigned his office forty-eight hours after he
had accepted it, and thus relieved the new government from
a great load of unpopularity : for all men of sense and honour,
however strong might be their dislike of the India Bill, dis¬
approved of the manner in which that bill had been thrown
out. Temple carried away with him the scandal which
the* best friends of the new government could not but
lament. The fame of the young prime minister pre¬
served its whiteness. He could declare with perfect trut
that, if unconstitutional machinations had been employed,
he had been no party to them.
He was, however, surrounded by difficulties and dan¬
gers. In the House of Lords, indeed, he had a majority;
nor could any orator of the opposition in that assembly be
considered as a match forThurlow, who was now again Chan¬
cellor, or for Camden, who cordially supported the son ot his
old friend Chatham. But in the other House there was
not a single eminent speaker among tke official men who
sate round Pitt. His most useful assistant was Dundas, who,
though he had not eloquence, had sense, knowledge, readi¬
ness, and boldness. On the opposite benches was a power¬
ful majority, led by Fox, who was supported by Burke,
North, and Sheridan. The heart of the young minister,
stout as it was, almost died within him. He could not
once close his eyes on the night which followed lemp e s
resignation. But, whatever his internal emotions might be,
his language and deportment indicated nothing but un¬
conquerable firmness and haughty confidence in his own
powers. His contest against the House of Commons
lasted from the 17th of December 1783 to the 8th of March
1784. In sixteen divisions the opposition triumphed.
Again and again the King was requested to dismiss his mi¬
nisters. But he was determined to go to Germany rather
than yield. Pitt’s resolution never wavered. T he cry of
the nation in his favour became vehement and almost
furious. Addresses assuring him of public support came up
Pitt,
William.
PITT, WILLIAM.
Pitt,
William
daily from every part of the kingdom. The freedom of the
city of London was presented to him in a gold box. He
went in state to receive this mark of distinction. He was
sumptuously feasted in Grocers’ Hall; and the shopkeepers
ot the Strand and Fleet Street illuminated their houses in
his honour. These things could not but produce an effect
within the walls of Parliament. The ranks of the majority
began to waver; a few passed over to the enemy; some
skulked away; many were for capitulating while it was
still possible to capitulate with the honours of war. Ne¬
gotiations were opened with the view of forming an ad¬
ministration on a wide basis, but they had scarcely been
opened when they were closed. The opposition demanded,
as a preliminary article of the treaty, that Pitt should
resign the Treasury ; and with this demand Pitt stedfastly
refused to comply. While the contest was raging, the
Clerkship of the Pells, a sinecure place for life, worth three
thousand a year, and tenable with a seat in the House of
Commons, became vacant. The appointment was with the
Chancellor of the Exchequer: nobody doubted that he
would appoint himself; and nobody could have blamed him
if he had done so : for such sinecure offices had always been
defended on the ground that they enabled a few men of
eminent abilities and small incomes to live without any pro¬
fession, and to devote themselves to the service of the state.
Pitt, in spite ot the remonstrances of his friends, gave the
Pells to his father’s old adherent, Colonel Barre, a man dis¬
tinguished by talent and eloquence, but poor and afflicted
with blindness. By this arrangement a pension which the
Rockingham administration had granted to Barre was saved
to the public. Never was there a happier stroke of policy.
About treaties, wars, expeditions, tariffs, budgets, there
will always be room for dispute. The policy which is ap¬
plauded by half the nation may be condemned by the other
half. But pecuniary disinterestedness everybody compre¬
hends. It is a great thing for a man who has only three
hundred a year to be able to show that he considers three
thousand a year as mere dirt beneath his feet, when com¬
pared with the public interest and the public esteem. Pitt
had his reward. No minister was ever more rancorously
libelled ; but even when he was known to be overwhelmed
with debt, when millions were passing through his hands,
when the wealthiest magnates of the realm were soliciting
him for marquisates and garters, his bitterest enemies did
not dare to accuse him of touching unlawful gain.
At length the hard fought fight ended. A final remon¬
strance, drawn up by Burke with admirable skill, was car¬
ried on the 8th of March by a single vote in a full House.
Had the experiment been repeated, the supporters of the
coalition would probably have been in a minority. But the
supplies had been voted; the Mutiny Bill had been passed ;
and the Parliament was dissolved.
The popular constituent bodies all over the country were
in general enthusiastic on the side of the new government.
A hundred and sixty of the supporters of the coalition lost
their seats. The First Lord of the Treasury himself came
in at the head of the poll for the University of Cambridge.
His young friend, Wilberforce, was elected Knight of the
great shire of York, in opposition to the whole influence of
the Fitzwilliams, Cavendishes, Dundases, and Saviles. In
the midst of such triumphs Pitt completed his twenty-fifth
year. He was now the greatest subject that England had
seen during many generations. He domineered absolutely
over the cabinet, and was the favourite at once of the So¬
vereign, of the Parliament, and of the nation. His father
had never been so powerful, nor Walpole, nor Marlborough.
'Ibis, narrative has now reached a point, beyond which
a full history of the life of Pitt would be a history of Eng¬
land, or rather of the whole civilised world ; and for such
a history this is not the proper place. Here a very slight
sketch must suffice; and in that sketch prominence will be
given to such points as may enable a reader who is already
acquainted with the general course of events to form a
just notion of the character of the man on whom so much '
depended.
If we wish to arrive at a correct judgment of Pitt’s merits
and defects, we must never forget that he belonged to a
peculiar class of statesmen, and that he must be tried by
a peculiar standard. It is not easy to compare him fairly with *
such men as Ximenes and Sully, Richelieu and Ox-
enstiein, John De Mitt and Warren Hastings. The means
by which those politicians governed great communities
were of quite a different kind from those which Pitt was
under the necessity of employing. Some talents, which
they never had any opportunity of showing that they pos¬
sessed, weie developed in him to an extraordinary decree.
In some qualities, on the other hand, to which they owe a
large pait of their fame, he was decidedly their inferior.
I hey tiansacted business in their closets, or at boards where
a few confidential councillors sate. It was his lotto be
born in an age and in a country in which parliamentary go¬
vernment was completely established; his whole training
fiom infancy was such as fitted him to bear a part in par¬
liamentary government; and, from the prime of his man¬
hood to his death, all the powers of his vigorous mind were
almost constantly exerted in the work of parliamentary go¬
vernment. He accordingly became the greatest master of
the whole art of parliamentary government that has ever
existed, a greater than Montague or Walpole, a greater
than his father Chatham or his rival Fox, a greater than
either of his illustrious successors Canning and Peel.
Parliamentary government, like every other contrivance
of man, has its advantages and its disadvantages. On the
advantages there is no need to dilate. The history of
England during the hundred and seventy years which have
elapsed since the House of Commons became the most
powerful body in the state, her immense and still growing
prosperity, her freedom, her tranquillity, her greatness in
arts, in sciences, and in arms, her maritime ascendency,
the marvels of her public credit, her American, her African’
her Australian, her Asiatic empires, sufficiently prove the
excellence of her institutions. But those institutions,
though excellent, are assuredly not perfect. Parliamentary
government is government by speaking. In such a go¬
vernment, the power of speaking is the most highly prized
of all the qualities which a politician can possess ; and that
power may exist, in the highest degree, without judgment,
without fortitude, without skill in reading the characters of
men or the signs of the times, without any knowledge of the
principles of legislation or of political economy, and with¬
out any skill in diplomacy or in the administration of war.
Nay, it may well happen” that those very intellectual qua¬
lities which give a peculiar charm to the speeches of a pub¬
lic man may be incompatible with the qualities which would
fit him to meet a pressing emergency with promptitude
and firmness. It was thus with Charles Townshend. It
was thus with Windham. It was a privilege to listen to
those accomplished and ingenious orators. But in a peril¬
ous crisis they would have been found far inferior in all
the qualities of rulers to such a man as Oliver Cromwell,
who talked nonsense, or as William the Silent, who did
not talk at all. When parliamentary government is esta¬
blished, a Charles Townshend or a Windham will almost
always exercise much greater influence than such men as
the great Protector of England, or as the founder of the
Batavian commonwealth. In such a government, parlia¬
mentary talent, though quite distinct from the tale’nts of a
good executive or judicial officer, will be a chief qualifica¬
tion for executive and judicial office. From the Book
of Dignities a curious list might be made out of Chancel¬
lors ignorant of the principles of equity, and First Lords of
the Admiralty ignorant ot the principles of navigation, of
733
Pitt,
William.
734
PITT, WILLIAM.
Pitt, Colonial ministers who could not repeat the names of the
William. Colonies, of Lords of the Treasury who did not know the
difference between funded and unfunded debt, and of
Secretaries of the India Board who did not know whether
the Mahrattas were Mahometans or Hindoos. On these
grounds, some persons, incapable of seeing more than one
side of a question, have pronounced parliamentary govern¬
ment a positive evil, and have maintained that the admin¬
istration would be greatly improved if the power, now ex¬
ercised by a large assembly, were transferred to a single
person. Men of sense will probably think the remedy very
much worse than the disease, and will be of opinion that
there would be small gain in exchanging Charles fowns-
hend and Windham for the Prince of the Peace, or the
poor slave and dog Steenie.
Pitt was emphatically the man of parliamentary govern¬
ment, the type of his class, the minion, the child, the spoiled
child, of the House of Commons. For the House of Com¬
mons he had a hereditary, an infantine love. Through his
whole boyhood, the House of Commons was never out of
his thoughts, or out of the thoughts of his instructors. Re¬
citing at his father’s knee, reading Thucydides and Cicero
into English, analysing the great Attic speeches on the
Embassy and on the Crown, he was constantly in training
for the conflicts of the House of Commons. He was a dis¬
tinguished member of the House of Commons at twenty-
one. The ability which he had displayed in the House of
Commons made him the most powerful subject in Europe
before he was twenty-five. It would have been happy for
himself and for his country if his elevation had been de¬
ferred. Eight or ten years, during which he would have
had leisure and opportunity for reading and reflection, for
foreign travel, for social intercourse and free exchange of
thought on equal terms with a great variety of companions,
would have supplied what, without any fault on his part,
was wanting to his powerful intellect. He had all the
knowledge that he could be expected to have ; that is to
say, all the knowledge that a man can acquire while he is a
student at Cambridge, and all the knowledge that a man
can acquire when he is First Lord of the Treasury and
Chancellor of the Exchequer. But the stock of general
information which he brought from college, extraordinary
for a boy, was far inferior to what Fox possessed, and beg¬
garly when compared with the massy, the splendid, the
various treasures laid up in the large mind of Burke. After
Pitt became minister, he had no leisure to learn more than
was necessary for the purposes of the day which was passing
over him. What was necessary for those purposes such a
man could learn with little difficulty. He was surrounded by
experienced and able public servants. He could at any mo¬
ment command their best assistance. From the stores which
they produced his vigorous mind rapidly collected the ma¬
terials for a good parliamentary case: and that was enough.
Legislation and administration were with him secondary
matters. To the work of framing statutes, of negotiating
treaties, of organising fleets and armies, of sending forth
expeditions, he gave only the leavings of his time and the
dregs of his fine intellect. The strength and sap of his
mind were all drawn in a different direction. It was when
the House of Commons was to be convinced and persuaded
that he put forth all his powers.
Of those powers we must form our estimate chiefly
from tradition ; for of all the eminent speakers of the
last age, Pitt has suffered most from the reporters. Even
while he was still living, critics remarked that his elo¬
quence could not be preserved, that he must be heard
to be appreciated. They more than once applied to him
the sentence in which Tacitus describes the fate of a
senator whose rhetoric was admired in the Augustan
age: l' Haterii canorum illud et profluens cum ipso simul
exstinctum est.’ There is, however, abundant evi¬
dence that nature had bestowed on Pitt the talents of a
great orator; and those talents had been developed in
a very peculiar manner, first by his education, and se¬
condly by the high official position to wdiich he rose early,
and in which he passed the greater part of his public life.
At his first appearance in Parliament he showed himself
superior to all his contemporaries in command of language.
He could pour forth a long succession of round and stately
periods, without premeditation, without ever pausing for a
word, without ever repeating a word, in a voice of silver
clearness, and with a pronunciation so articulate that not
a letter was slurred over. He had less amplitude of mind
and less richness of imagination than Burke, less ingenuity
than Windham, less wit than Sheridan, less perfect mastery
of dialectical fence, and less of that highest sort of elo¬
quence which consists of reason and passion fused together,
than Fox. Yet the almost unanimous judgment of those
who were in the habit of listening to that remarkable
race of men placed Pitt, as a speaker, above Burke, above
Windham, above Sheridan, and not below Fox. His de¬
clamation was copious, polished, and splendid. In power
of sarcasm he was probably not surpassed by any speaker,
ancient or modern; and of this formidable wreapon he made
merciless use. In two parts of the oratorical art which are
of the highest value to a minister of state he was singularly
expert. No man knew better how to be luminous or howr
to be obscure. When he wished to be understood, he
never failed to make himself understood. He could with
ease present to his audience, not perhaps an exact or pro¬
found, but a clear, popular, and plausible view of the most
extensive and complicated subject. Nothing was out ot
place ; nothing was forgotten; minute details, dates, sums of
mone^, were all faithfully preserved in his memory. Even
intricate questions of finance, when explained by him,
seemed clear to the plainest man among his hearers. On
the other hand, when he did not wish to be explicit,—and
no man who is at the head of affairs always wishes to be
explicit,—he had a marvellous power of saying nothing in
language which left on his audience the impression that he
had said a great deal. He was at once the only man who
could open a budget without notes, and the only man who,
as Windham said, could speak that most elaborately evasive
and unmeaning of human compositions, a King’s speech,
without premeditation.
The effect of oratory will always to a great extent depend
on the character of the orator. There perhaps never were
two speakers whose eloquence had more of what may be
called the race, more of the flavour imparted by moral
qualities, than Fox and Pitt. The speeches of Fox owe a
great part of their charm to that wrarmth and softness of
heart, that sympathy with human suffering, that admiration
for everything great and beautiful, and that hatred ot
cruelty and injustice, which interest and delight us even in
the most defective reports. No person, on the other t^md,
could hear Pitt without perceiving him to be a man ot high,
intrepid, and commanding spirit, proudly conscious of his
own rectitude and of his own intellectual superiority, inca¬
pable of the low vices of fear and envy, but too prone to
feel and to show disdain. Pride, indeed, pervaded the
whole man, was written in the harsh, rigid lines ot his
face, was marked by the way in which he walked, in which
he sate, in which he stood, and, above all, in which he
bowed. Such pride, of course, inflicted many wounds.
It may confidently be affirmed that there cannot be found,
in all the ten thousand invectives written against Fox, a
word indicating that his demeanour had ever made a single
personal enemy. On the other hand, several men of note
who had been partial to Pitt, and who to the last continued
to approve his public conduct and to support his adminis¬
tration, Cumberland, for example, Boswell, and Matthias,
were so much irritated by the contempt with which he
William !C- thenL’ t l^t tiley comPlained in print of their wrongs.
^Ut] Pnde> though it made him bitterly disliked by in-
v dividuals, inspired the great body of his followers in Parlia¬
ment and throughout the country with respect and con-
tidence. 1 hey took him at his own valuation. They saw
Vat 1Is se“'esteem was not that of an upstart who was
drunk with good luck and with applause, and who, if for¬
tune turned, would sink from arrogance into abject humi-
i -l ,YaS that of tlle magnanimous man so finely
described by Aristotle in the Ethic^, of the man who thinks
himself worthy of great things, being in truth worthy. It
sprang from a consciousness of great powers and great
virtues, and was never so conspicuously displayed as in the
midst of difficulties and dangers which would have un¬
nerved and bowed down any ordinary mind. It was closely
connected, too, with an ambition which had no mixture o*f
low cupidity, fhere was something noble in the cynical
disdain with which the mighty minister scattered riches and
titles to right and left among those who valued them, while
he spurned them out of his own way. Poor himself, he
was surrounded by friends on whom he had bestowed three
thousand, six thousand, ten thousand a year. Plain
Mister himself, he had made more lords than any three
ministers that had preceded him. The garter, for which
t le first dukes in the kingdom wrere contending, was re¬
peatedly offered to him, and offered in vain.
The correctness of his private life added much to the
dignity of his public character. In the relations of son,
brother, uncle, master, friend, his conduct was exemplary,
ui 11(Lsraa11 circle of his intimate associates, he was ami¬
able, affectionate, even playful. They loved him sincerely ;
they regretted him long; and they would hardly admit that
fie who was so kind and gentle with them could be stern
and haughty with others. He indulged, indeed, somewhat
too freely m wine, which he had early been directed to take
as a medicine, and which use had made a necessary of life
to him. But it was very seldom that any indication of un¬
due excess could be detected in his tones or gestures • and
in truth, two bottles of port were little more to him than
two dishes of tea. He had, when he was first introduced
into the clubs of Saint James’s Street, shown a strong taste
for play ; but he had the prudence and the resolution to
stop be.ore this taste had acquired the strength of habit,
from the passion which generally exercises the most ty-
ranmcal dominion over the young he possessed an immunity,
which is probably to be ascribed partly to his temperament
and partly to his situation. His constitution was feeble:
he was very shy; and he was very busy. The strictness
ot Ins morals furnished such buffoons as Peter Pindar and
Captain Morris with an inexhaustible theme for merriment
of no very delicate kind. But the great body of the middle
class of Englishmen could not see the joke. They warmly
praised the young statesman for commanding his passions
and for covering his frailties, if he had frailties, with de¬
corous obscurity, and would have been very far indeed from
thinking better of him if he had vindicated himself from
the taunts of his enemies by taking under his protection a
JSancy Parsons or a Marianne Clark.
No part of the immense popularity which Pitt long enjoyed
is to be attributed to the eulogies of wits and poets. It might
have been naturally expected that a man of genius, of learn-
mg, of taste, an orator whose diction was often compared to
that ot 1 ully, the representative, too, of a great university,
wou c ave taken a peculiar pleasure in befriending eminent
v nters, to whatever political party they might have be-
onge . e ove of literature had induced Augustus to
leap ene ts on Pompeians, Somers to be the protector of
nonjurors, Harley to make the fortunes of Whigs. But it
cou c not move Pitt to show any favour even to Pittites.
He was doubtless right in thinking that, in general, poetry,
history, and philosophy ought to be suffered, like calico
PITT, WILLIAM.
735
fuf. ‘■'It,lery|;,0 find their proper price in the market, ond Pitt,
that to teach men of letters to look habitually to the state William
for their recompense is bad for the state and bad for letters v v—
Assuredly nothing can be more absurd or mischievous than
to waste the public money in bounties for the purpose of
inducing people who ought to be weighing out grocerv or
measuring out drapery to write bad or middling books.
1 ut, though the sound rule is that authors should be left to
be remunerated by their readers, there will, in every vene¬
ration, be a few exceptions to this rule. To distinguish
these special cases from the mass is an employment well
worthy of the faculties of a great and accomplished ruler;
and Pitt would assuredly have had little difficulty in finding
such cases. While he was in power, the greatest philolo¬
gist ot the age, his own contemporary at Cambridge, was
reduced to earn a livelihood by the lowest literary drudgery
and to spend m writing squibs for the Morning Chronicle
years to which we might have owed an all but perfect text of
the whole tragic and comic drama of Athens. The greatest
historian of the age, forced by poverty to leave his country
completed his immortal work on the shores of Lake Leman.
1 he political heterodoxy of Porson, and the religious he¬
terodoxy of Gibbon, may perhaps be pleaded in defence of
the minister by whom those eminent men were neglected.
But there were other cases in which no such excuse could
be set up. Scarcely had Pitt obtained possession of un¬
bounded power when an aged writer of the highest emi¬
nence, who had made very little by his writings” and who
was sinking into the grave under a load of infirmities and
sorrows, wanted five or six hundred pounds to enable him
during the winter or two which might still remain to him’
to draw his breath more easily in the soft climate of Italy’
Not a farthing was to be obtained ; and before Christmas
the author of the English Dictionary and of the Lives of
the Poets hud gasped his last in the rfrer fog and coal smoke
of fleet Street. A few months after the death of Johnson
appeared the Task, incomparably the best poem that any
Englishman then living had produced—a poem, too, which
could hardly fail to excite in a well constituted mind a feel¬
ing of esteem and compassion for the poet, a man of genius
and virtue, whose means were scanty, and whom the most
cruel of all the calamities incident to humanity had made
incapable of supporting himself by vigorous and sustained
exertion. Nowhere had Chatham been praised with more
enthusiasm, or in verse more worthy of the subject, than in
ic . , son Chatham, however, contented him¬
self with reading and admiring the book, and left the author
to starve. The pension which, long after, enabled poor
Covvper to close his melancholy life, unmolested by duns
and bailiffs, was obtained for him by the strenuous kindness
of Lord Spencer. What a contrast between the way in
winch Pitt acted towards Johnson and the way in which
Lord Grey acted towards his political enemy Scott, when
Scott, worn out by misfortune and disease, was advised to
tiy the effect of the Italian air ! What a contrast between
the way in which Pitt acted towards Cowper and the way
in which Burke, a poor man and out of place, acted towards
rabbe. Even Dundas, who made no pretensions to
iteiaiy taste, and was content to be considered as a hard-
headed and somewhat coarse man of business, was, when
compured with his eloquent and classically educated friend
a Maecenas or a Leo. Dundas made Burns an exciseman’
with seventy pounds a year; and this was more than Pitt
during his long tenure of power, did for the encouravement
of letters. Even those who may think that it is, in general
no part of the duty of a government to reward literary
merit, will hardly deny that a government, which has much
lucrative church preferment in its gift, is bound, in distri¬
buting that preferment, not to overlook divines whose
writings have rendered great service to the cause of relfoion.
But it seems never to have occurred to Pitt that he lay
736
PITT, WILLIAM.
Pitt,
William.
under any such obligation. All the theological works of
all the numerous bishops whom he made and translated are
not, when put together, worth fifty pages of the Horse
Paulinae, of the Natural Theology, or of the View of the
Evidences of Christianity. But on Paley the all-powerful
minister never bestowed the smallest benefice. _ Artists ritt
treated as contemptuously as writers. For painting he did
simply nothing. Sculptors, who had been selected to execute
monuments voted by Parliament, had to haunt the ante¬
chambers of the Treasury during many years before they
could obtain a farthing from him. One of them, after
vainly soliciting the minister for payment during fourteen
years, had the courage to present a memorial to the King,
and thus obtained tardy and ungracious justice. Architects
it was absolutely necessary to employ; and the worst that
could be found seem to have been employed. Not a single
fine public building of any kind or in any style was erected
during his long administration. It may be confidently
affirmed that no ruler whose abilities and attainments wou d
bear any comparison with his has ever shown such col
disdain for what is excellent in arts and letters.
His first administration lasted seventeen years, lhat
long period is divided by a strongly marked line into two
almost exactly equal parts. The first part ended and the
second began in the autumn of 1792. Throughout both
parts Pitt displayed in the highest degree the talents of a
parliamentary leader. During the first part he was ^ 9r“
tunate, and, in many respects, a skilful administrator. With
the difficulties which he had to encounter during the second
part he was altogether incapable of contending: but his
eloquence and his perfect mastery of the tactics of the
House of Commons concealed his incapacity from the
multitude. .
The eight years which followed the general election of
1784 were as tranquil and prosperous as any eight years
in the whole history of England. Neighbouring nations
which had lately been in arms against her, and which had
flattered themselves that, in losing her American colonies,
she had lost a chief source of her wealth and of her power,
saw, with wonder and vexation, that she was more wealthy
and more powerful than ever. Her trade increased. Her
manufactures flourished. Her exchequer was full to over¬
flowing. Very idle apprehensions were generally enter¬
tained, that the public debt, though much less than a third
of the debt which we now bear with ease, would be found
too heavy for the strength of the nation. I hose appre¬
hensions might not perhaps have been easily quieted by
reason. But Pitt quieted them by a juggle. He succeeded
in persuading first himself, and then the whole nation, his
opponents included, that a new sinking fund, which, so far
as it differed from former sinking funds, differed for the
worse, would, by virtue of some mysterious power of pro¬
pagation belonging to money, put into the pocket of the
public creditor great sums not taken out of the pocket of
the tax-payer. The country, terrified by a danger which
was no danger, hailed with delight and boundless confi¬
dence a remedy which was no remedy. I he minister was
almost universally extolled as the greatest of financiers.
Meanwhile both the branches of the House of Bourbon
found that England was as formidable an antagonist as she
had ever been. France had formed a plan for reducing
Holland to vassalage. But England interposed, and France
receded. Spain interrupted by violence the trade of our
merchants with the regions near the Oregon. But Eng¬
land armed, and Spain receded. Within the island there
was profound tranquillity. The King was, for the first time,
popular. During the twenty-three years which had fol¬
lowed his accession he had not been loved by his subjects.
His domestic virtues were acknowleged. But it was gene¬
rally thought that the good qualities by which he was distin¬
guished in private life were wanting to his political charac¬
ter. As a Sovereign, he was resentful, unforgiving, stub- Pitt,
born, cunning. Under his rule the country had sustained William,
cruel disgraces and disasters ; and every one of those dis- -v—
graces and disasters was imputed to his strong antipathies,
and to his perverse obstinacy in the wrong. One statesman
after another complained that he had been induced by royal
caresses, entreaties, and promises, to undertake the direc¬
tion of affairs at a difficult conjuncture, and that, as soon as
he had, not without sullying his fame and alienating his
best friends, served the turn for which he was wanted, his
ungrateful master began to intrigue against him, and to
canvass against him. Grenville, Rockingham, Chatham,
men of widely different characters, but all three upright
and high-spirited, agreed in thinking that the Prince under
whom they had successively held the highest place in the
government was one of the most insincere of mankind.
His confidence was reposed, they said, not in those known
and responsible counsellors to whom he had delivered the
seals of office, but in secret advisers who stole up the back
stairs into his closet. In Parliament, his ministers, while
defending themselves against the attacks of the opposition
in front, were perpetually, at his instigation, assailed on the
flank or in the rear by a vile band of mercenaries who
called themselves his friends. These men constantly, while
in possession of lucrative places in his service, spoke and
voted against bills which he had authorised the First Lord
of the Treasury or the Secretary of State to bring in. But
from the day on which Pitt was placed at the head of affairs
there was an end of secret influence. His haughty and as¬
piring spirit, was not to be satisfied with the mere show of
power. Any attempt to undermine him at Court, any mu¬
tinous movement among his followers in the House of Com¬
mons, was certain to be at once put down. He had only to
tender his resignation; and he could dictate his own terms.
For he, and he alone, stood between the King and the Coali¬
tion. He was therefore little less than Mayor of the Palace.
The nation loudly applauded the King for having the wis¬
dom to repose entire confidence in so excellent a minister.
His Majesty’s private virtues now began to produce their
full effect. He was generally regarded as the model of a re¬
spectable country gentleman, honest, goodnatured, sobei,
religious. He rose early : he dined temperately . he was
strictly faithful to his wife: he never missed church ; and
at church he never missed a response. His people heartily
prayed that he might long reign over them; and they
prayed the more heartily because his virtues were set off to
the best advantage by the vices and follies of the Prince of
Wales, who lived in close intimacy with the chiefs of the
opposition.
How strong this feeling was in the public mind appeared
signally on one great occasion. In the autumn of 1188 the
King became insane. The opposition, eager for office, com¬
mitted the great indiscretion of asserting that the heii appa¬
rent had, by the fundamental laws of England, a right to be
Regent with the full powers of royalty. Pitt, on the other
hand, maintained it to be the constitutional doctrine that,
when a Sovereign is, by reason of infancy, disease, or ab¬
sence, incapable of exercising the regal functions, it belongs
to the estates of the realm to determine who shall be the
vicegerent, and with what portion of the executive autho¬
rity such vicegerent shall be entrusted. A long and violent
contest followed, in which Pitt was supported by the great
body of the people with as much enthusiasm as during the
first months of his administration. Tories with one voice ap¬
plauded him for defending the sick-bed of a virtuous andun-
unhappy Sovereign against a disloyal faction and an undutiful
son. Not a few Whigs applauded him for asserting the au¬
thority of Parliaments and the principles of the Revolution,
in opposition to a doctrine which seemed to have too much
affinity with the servile theory of indefeasible hereditary right.
The middle class, always zealous on the side of decency and
Pitt,
William
the domestic virtues, looked forward with dismay to a reign
resem mg that of Charles II. The palace, which had now
been, during thirty years, the pattern of an English home,
would be a. public nuisance, a school of profligacy. To
le*nS s rePast °f mutton and lemonade, despatched
at three o clock, would succeed midnight banquets, from
which the guests would be carried home speechless. To
the backgammon board at which the good King played for
a little silver with his equerries, would succeed faro tables
trom which young patricians who had sate down rich would
rise up beggars. The drawing-room, from which the frown
of the Queen had repelled a whole generation of frail beau-
ties would now be again what it had been in the days of
Barbara Pa mer and Louisa de Querouaille. Nay, severely
as the public reprobated the Prince’s many illicit attach¬
ments, his one virtuous attachment was reprobated more
severely still. Even in grave and pious circles his Protest¬
ant mistresses gave less scandal than his Popish wife. That
he must be Regent nobody ventured to deny. But he and his
mends were so unpopular that Pitt could, with general appro¬
bation, propose to limit the powers of the Regent by restric¬
tions to which it would have been impossible to subject a
nnce beloved and trusted by the country. Some interested
men, fully expecting a change of administration, went over
to the opposition. But the majority, purified by these de¬
sertions, closed its ranks, and presented a more firm array
than ever to the enemy. In every division Pitt was victori-
ous. When at length, after a stormy interregnum of three
months, it was announced, on the very eve of the inaugura¬
tion of the Regent, that the King was himself again" the
whirh MM Wlth del'ght\ °n the eVenin® of the day on
which His Majesty resumed his functions, a spontaneous
illumination, the most general that had ever been seen in
Eng and, brightened the whole vast space from Highgate to
looting, and from Hammersmith to Greenwich. On the
day on which he returned thanks in the cathedral of his
capital, all the horses and carriages within a hundred miles
ot London were too few for the multitudes which flocked to
see him pass through the streets. A second illumination
followed, which was even superior to the first in mao-ni-
cence. Pitt with difficulty escaped from the tumultuous
kindness of an innumerable multitude which insisted on
drawing his coach from Saint Paul’s Churchyard to Downing
street. I his was the moment at which his fame and fortune
may be said to have reached the zenith. His influence in
the closet was as great as that of Carr or Villiers had been.
His dominion over the Parliament was more absolute than
that of Walpole or Pelham had been. He was at the
same time as high in the favour of the populace as ever Wilkes
or Sacheverell had been. Nothing did more to raise his cha¬
racter than his noble poverty. It was well known that, if he
had been dismissed from office after more than five years of
boundless power, he would hardly have carried out with
him a sum sufficient to furnish the set of chambers in
which, as he cheerfully declared, he meant to resume the
practice of the law. His admirers, however, were by no
means disposed to suffer him to depend on daily toil for
his daily bread. The voluntary contributions which were
awaiting his acceptance in the city of London alone would
have sufficed to make him a rich man. But it may be
doubted whether his haughty spirit would have stooped to
bestowedPrOV1Si°n S° llonoura^,Iy earned and so honourably
To such a height of power and glory had this extraor¬
dinary man nsen at twenty-nine years of age. And now
the tide was on the turn. Only ten days after the trium-
phant procession to Saint Paul’s, the States-General of
PITT, WILLIAM.
France, after an interval of a hundred and seventv-four
years, met at Versailles. eventy tour
The nature of the great Revolution which followed was
long very imperfectly understood in this country. Burke
saw much further than any of his contemporaries; but
whatever lus sagacity descried was refracted and dis¬
coloured by his passions and his imagination. More than
three years elapsed before the principles of the English
a ministration underwent any material change. Nothing
could as yet be milder or more strictly constitutional than the
ministers domestic policy. Not a single act indicating
an arbitrary temper or a jealousy of the people could be
imputed to him. He had never applied to Parliament for
nes«,etbtra0r?'nary p0Wers- He had never used with harsh-
thp PVP6, °J ^ P°WerS entArusted by ^e constitution to
the executive government. Not a single state prosecution
which would even now be called oppressive had been in¬
stituted by him. Indeed, the only oppressive state prosecu¬
tion instituted during the first eight years of his adminis
tration was that of Stockdale, whfch J,o be attributed „Tt
In ffi.f peT|enl’ T t0 ?e Cl”efs ol'tl,e °PP<»ilion.
office, Pitt had redeemed the pledges which he had
at his entrance into public life, given to the supporters
of parliamentary reform. He had, in 1785, brought for-
ai a judicious plan for the improvement of the re¬
presentative system, and had prevailed on the King, not
on y to refrain from talking against that plan, but to re¬
commend it to the Houses in a speech from the throne.1
ns attempt failed: but there can be little doubt that, if
the French Revolution had not produced a violent re-
hirlTl ffi Pnb 1C feehn§’ Pitt would have Performed, with
httle difficulty and no danger, that great work which, at a
later penod’ Enrcl Grey could accomplish only by means
which for a time loosened the very foundations of the com-
onwealth. When the atrocities of the slave trade were
hist brought under the consideration of Parliament, no
abolitionist was more zealous than Pitt. When sickness
prevented Wilberforce from appearing in public, his place
was most efficiently supplied by his friend the minister. A
numane bill, which mitigated the horrors of the middle
passage, was, in 1788, carried by the eloquence and deter¬
mined spirit of Pitt, in spite of the opposition of some of
ns own colleagues; and it ought always to be remembered
to Ins honour that, in order to carry that bill, he kept the
Houses sitting, in spite of many murmurs, long after the
business of the government had been done, and the Ap¬
propriation Act passed. In 1791 he cordially concurred
with box in maintaining the sound constitutional doctrine
that an impeachment is not terminated by a dissolution!
In the course of the same year the two great rivals con-
tended side by side in a far more important cause. They
are fairly entitled to divide the high honour of having
added to our statute-book the inestimable law which places
the liberty of the press under the protection of juries. On
one occasion, and one alone, Pitt, during the first half of
his long administration, acted in a manner unworthy of an
enlightened Whig. In the debate on the Test Act, he
stooped to gratify the master whom he served, the univer¬
sity which he represented, and the great body of clergymen
and country gentlemen on whose support he rested, by
talking, with httle heartiness, indeed, and with no asperitv
the anguage of a Tory. With this single exception, hS
conduct from the end of 1783 to the middle of 1792 was
that of an honest friend of civil and religious liberty.
Nor did anything, during that period, indicate that he
loved war, or harboured any malevolent feeling against any
neighbouring nation. Those French writers who have
737
Pitt,
William.
VOL. XVII.
5 A
738
PITT, WILLIAM.
Pitt,
William.
represented him as a Hannibal sworn in childhood by his
father to bear eternal hatred to France, as haxjing> Y
mysterious intrigues and lavish bribes, instigate ie e
“g Jacobins to commit those excesses which drshonoured
the Revolution, as having been the real author of the fir
coalition, know nothing of his character or of u >;
So far was he from being a deadly enemy to France, tiiat
his laudable attempts to bring about a closer connect on
with that country by means of a wise and hbeial tie )
commerce brought on him the severe censure of the op¬
position. He was told in the House of Commons that he
was a degenerate son, and that his partiality for the here¬
ditary foes of our island was enough to make his great
father’s bones stir under the pavement of the Abbey.
And this man, whose name, if he had been so fortunate
as to die in 1792, would now have been associated with
peace, with freedom, with philanthropy, with temperate re¬
form, with mild and constitutional administration, live
associate his name with arbitrary government, with harsi
laws harshly executed, with alien bills, with gagging ,
with suspensions of the Habeas Corpus Act, with cruel
punishments inflicted on some political agitators, with un-
iustifiable prosecutions instituted against others, and wit i
the most costly and most sanguinary wars of modern times.
He lived to be held up to obloquy as the stern oppressor of
England, and the indefatigable disturber of Europe, i oets,
contrasting his earlier with his later years, likened him
sometimes to the apostle who kissed in order to betray, anc
. sometimes to the evil angels who kept not their first
estate. A satirist of great genius introduced the bends
of Famine, Slaughter, and Fire, proclaiming that they had
received their commission from One whose name was foime
of four letters, and promising to give their employer ample
proofs of gratitude. Famine would gnaw the multitude till
they should rise up against him in madness. The demon
of Slaughter would impel them to tear him from limb to
limb. But Fire boasted that she alone could reward him
as he deserved, and that she would cling round him to all
eternity. By the F’rench press and the French tribune
every crime that disgraced and every calamity that afflicted
France was ascribed to the monster Pitt and his guineas.
While the Jacobins were dominant, it was he who had cor¬
rupted the Gironde, who had raised Lyons and Bordeaux
against the Convention, who had suborned Paris to as¬
sassinate Lepelletier, and Cecilia Regnault to assassinate
Robespierre. When the Ihermidorian reaction came, all
the atrocities of the Reign of 1 error were imputed to him.
Collot D’Herbois and Fouquier Thinville had been his pen¬
sioners. It was he who had hired the murderers of Sep¬
tember, who had dictated the pamphlets of Marat and the
Carmagnoles of Barrere, who had paid Lebon to deluge
Arras with blood, and Carrier to choke the Loire with
corpses.
The truth is, that he liked neither war nor arbitrary
government. He was a lover of peace and freedom, driven,
by a stress against which it wras hardly possible for any will
or any intellect to struggle, out of the course to which his
inclinations pointed, and for which his abilities and acquire¬
ments fitted him, and forced into a policy repugnant to his
feelings and unsuited to his talents.
The charge of apostasy is grossly unjust. A man ought
no more to be called an apostate because his opinions alter
with the opinions of the great body of his contemporaries
than he ought to be called an oriental traveller because he
is always going round from west to east with the globe and
everything that is upon it. Between the spring of 1789
and the close of 1792, the public mind of England under¬
went a great change. If the change of Pitt’s sentiments
attracted peculiar notice, it was not because he changed
more than his neighbours ; for in fact he changed less than
most of them ; but because his position was far more con¬
spicuous than theirs, because he was, till Bonaparte ap¬
peared, the individual who filled the greatest space in the w
eyes of the inhabitants of the civilised world. During a
short time the nation, and Pitt, as one of the nation, looked
with interest and approbation on the French Revolution.
But soon vast confiscations, the violent sweeping away of
ancient institutions, the domination of clubs, the barbarities
of mobs maddened by famine and hatred, produced a re¬
action here. The court, the nobility, the gentry, the clergy,
the manufacturers, the merchants, in short, nineteen
twentieths of those who had good roofs over their heads
and good coats on their backs, became eager and intoler¬
ant Antijacobins. This feeling was at least as strong among
the minister’s adversaries as among his supporters. Fox
in vain attempted to restrain his followers. All his genius,
all his vast personal influence, could not prevent them from
rising up against him in general mutiny. Burke set the ex¬
ample of revolt; and Burke was in no long time joined by
Portland, Spencer, Fitzwilliam, Loughborough, Carlisle,
Malmesbury, Windham, Elliot. In the House of Com¬
mons, the followers of the great Whig statesman and orator
diminished from about a hundred and sixty to fifty. In the
House of Lords he had but ten or twelve adherents left.
There can be no doubt that there would have been a
similar mutiny on the ministerial benches, if Pitt had obsti¬
nately resisted the general wish. Pressed at once by his
master and by his colleagues, by old friends and by old
opponents, he abandoned, slowly and reluctantly, the policy
which was dear to his heart. He laboured hard to avert
the European war. When the European war broke out,
he still flattered himself that it would not be necessary
for this country to take either side. In the spring of 179^
he congratulated the Parliament on the prospect of long
and profound peace, and proved his sincerity by proposing
large remissions of taxation. Down to the end of that year
he continued to cherish the hope that England might be
able to preserve neutrality. But the passions which raged
on both sides of the Channel were not to be restiained.
The republicans who ruled France were inflamed by a
fanaticism resembling that of the Mussulmans, who, with
the Koran in one hand and the sword in the other, went
forth, conquering and converting, eastward to the Bay ot
Bengal, and westward to the Pillars of Hercules. 16
higher and middle classes of England were animated by
zeal not less fiery than that of the Crusaders who raised the
cry of Deus vult at Clermont. The impulse which drove
the two nations to a collision was not to be anested by t ie
abilities or by the authority of any single man. As I itt
was in front of his fellows, and towered high above them,
he seemed to lead them. But in fact he was violently
pushed on by them, and, had he held back but a little moie
than he did, would have been thrust out of their way or
trampled under their feet.
He yielded to the current: and from that day his mis¬
fortunes began. The truth is that there were on y two
consistent courses before him. Since he did note oose to
oppose himself, side by side with F ox, to the public ee ing,
he should have taken the advice of Burke, and should have
availed himself of that feeling to the full extent. It 1^was
impossible to preserve peace, he should have adopte t le
only policy which could lead to victory. He should lave
proclaimed a Holy War for religion, morality, property,
order, public law, and should have thus opposed to t ie
Jacobins an energy equal to their own. Unhappily ie
tried to find a middle path ; and he found one which unite
all that was worst in both extremes. He went to war.
but he would not understand the peculiar character of that
war. He was obstinately blind to the plain fact, that he was
contending against a state which was also a sect, and that
the new quarrel between England and France was of quite
a different kind from the old quarrels about colonies in
PITT, WILLIAM.
Pitt, America and fortresses in the Netherlands. He had to
\Vlliam. combat frantic enthusiasm, boundless ambition, restless ac-
tivity, the wildest and most audacious spirit of innovation ;
and he acted as if he had had to deal with the harlots and
fops of the old Court of Versailles, with Madame De Pom¬
padour and the Abbe de Bernis. It was pitiable to hear
mm, year after year, proving to an admiring audience that
the wicked Republic was exhausted, that she could not
lold out, that her credit was gone, that her assignats were
not worth more than the paper of which they were made ;
as if credit was necessary to a government of which the
principle was rapine, as if Alboin could not turn Italy
into a desert till he had negotiated a loan at five per
cent., as if the exchequer bills of Attila had been at par.
It was impossible that a man who so completely mistook
the nature ot a contest could carry on that contest success-
tuily. Great as Pitt’s abilities were, his military administra¬
tion was that of a driveller. He was at the head of a na¬
tion engaged in a struggle for life and death, of a nation
eminently distinguished by all the physical and all the
moral qualities which make excellent soldiers. The re¬
sources at his command were unlimited. The Parliament
was even more ready to grant him men and money than he
was to ask for them. In such an emergency, and with
such means, such a statesman as Richelieu, as Louvois, as
Chatham, as Wellesley, would have created in a few months
one of the finest armies in the world, and would soon have
discovered and brought forward generals worthy to com¬
mand such an army. Germany might have been saved by
another Blenheim; Flanders recovered by another Rami¬
fies; another Poitiers might have delivered the Royalist
and Catholic provinces of France from a yoke which they
abhorred, and might have spread terror even to the barriers
or Paris. But the fact is, that, after eight years of war,
alter a vast destruction of life, after an expenditure of wealth
tar exceeding the expenditure of the American war, of the
Seven Years’ W ar, of the war of the Austrian Succession,
and of the war of the Spanish Succession united, the Eno--’
lish army, under Pitt, was the laughing-stock of all Europe.
It could not boast of one single brilliant exploit. It had
never shown itself on the Continent but to be beaten,
chased, forced to reembark, or forced to capitulate. To
take some sugar island in the West Indies, to scatter some
mob of half naked Irish peasants, such were the most
splendid victories won by the British troops under Pitt’s
auspices.
The English navy no mismanagement could ruin. But
during a long period whatever mismanagement could do was
done. The Earl of Chatham, without a single qualification
for high public trust, was made, by fraternal partiality, First
Lord of the Admiralty, and was kept in that great post
during two years of a war in which the very existence
of the state depended on the efficiency of the fleet. He
continued to doze away and trifle away the time which
ought to have been devoted to the public service, till the
whole mercantile body, though generally disposed to sup¬
port the government, complained bitterly that our flag gave
no protection to our trade. Fortunately he was succeeded
by George Earl Spencer, one of those chiefs of the Whig
party who, in the great schism caused by the French Re¬
volution, had followed Burke. Lord Spencer, though in¬
ferior to many of his colleagues as an orator, was decidedly
the best administrator among them. To him it was owing
that a long and gloomy succession of days of fasting, and,
most emphatically, of humiliation, was interrupted, twice in
the short space of eleven months, bv days of thanksgiving
tor great victories.
It may seem paradoxical to say that the incapacity which
: ltt: sh°wed in all that related to the conduct of the war is,
in some sense, the most decisive proof that he wras a man
ol very extraordinary abilities. Yet this is the simple truth.
For assuredly one-tenth part of his errors and disasters
would have been fatal to the power and influence of anv
minister who had not possessed, in the highest degree the
talents of a parliamentary leader. While his schemes were
confounded, while his predictions were falsified, while the
coalitions which he had laboured to form were falling to
pieces, while the expeditions which he had sent forth at
enormous cost were ending in rout and disgrace, while the
enemy against whom he was feebly contending was sub¬
jugating Flanders and Brabant, the Electorate of Mentz
and the Electorate ot Treves, Holland, Piedmont, Liguria,
Lombardy, his authority over the House of Commons was
constantly becoming more and more absolute. There was
his empire. There were his victories, his Lodi and his
Areola, his Rivoli and his Marengo. If some great mis-
loi tune, a pitched battle lost by the allies, the annexation
of a new department to the French Republic, a sanguinary
insurrection in Ireland, a mutiny in the fleet, a panic in
the city, a run on the bank, had spread dismay through
the ranks of his majority, that dismay lasted onlv till he
rose from the Treasury bench, drew up his haughty head,
stretched his arm with commanding gesture, and poured
forth, in deep and sonorous tones, the loftv language of in¬
extinguishable hope and inflexible resolution. Thus, through
a long and calamitous period, every disaster that happened
without the walls of Parliament was regularly followed bv
a triumph within them. At length he had no longer an
opposition to encounter. Of the great party which had
contended against him during the first eight years of his
administration more than one half now marched under his
standard, with his old competitor the Duke of Portland at
their head; and the rest had, after many vain struggles,
quitted the field in despair. Fox had retired to the shades
of St Annes Hill, and had there found, in the society of
friends whom no vicissitude could estrange from him, of
a woman whom he tenderly loved, and of the illustrious
dead ot Athens, of Rome, and of Florence, ample com¬
pensation for all the misfortunes of his public life. Session
followed session with scarcely a single division. In the
eventful year 1799, the largest minority that could be mus¬
tered against the government was twenty-five.
In Pitt’s domestic policy there was at this time assuredly
no want of vigour. While he offered to French Jacobinism
a resistance so feeble that it only encouraged the evil which
he wished to suppress, he put down English Jacobinism
with a strong hand. The Habeas Corpus Act was re¬
peatedly suspended. Public meetings were placed under
severe restraints. The government obtained from Parlia¬
ment power to send out of the country aliens who were
suspected of evd designs; and that power was not suffered
to be idle. Writers who propounded doctrines adverse to
monarchy and aristocracy were proscribed and punished
without mercy. It was hardly safe for a republican to avow
his political creed over his beefsteak and his bottle of port at
a chop-house. I he old laws of Scotland against sedition,
laws which were considered by Englishmen as barbarous,
and which a succession of governments had suffered to rust,
were now furbished up and sharpened anew. Men of culti¬
vated minds and polished manners were, for offences which
at Westminster would have been treated as mere misde¬
meanours, sent to herd with felons at Botany Bay. Some
reformers, whose opinions were extravagant, and whose
language was intemperate, but who had never dreamed of
subverting the government by physical force, were indicted
for high treason, and were saved from the gallows only by
the righteous verdicts of juries. This severity was at the
time loudly applauded by alarmists whom fear had made
cruel, but will be seen in a very different light by posterity.
I he truth is, that the Englishmen who wished for a revo¬
lution were, even in number, not formidable, and, in every¬
thing but number, a faction utterly contemptible, without
739
Pitt,
William.
PITT, WILLIAM.
740
Pitt, arms, or funds, or plans, or organisation, or leader. There
William, can be no doubt that Pitt, strong as he was in the suppoit
V ' of the great body of the nation, might easily have repressed
the turbulence of the discontented minority by firmly yet
temperately enforcing the ordinary law. Whatever vigour
he showed during this unfortunate part of his life was
vigour out of place and season. He was all feebleness
and languor in his conflict with the foreign enemy who was
really to be dreaded, and reserved all his energy and reso¬
lution for the domestic enemy who might safely have been
One part only of Pitt’s conduct during the last eight
years of the eighteenth century deserves high praise. He
Was the first English minister who formed great designs for
the benefit of Ireland. The manner in which the Roman
Catholic population of that unfortunate country had been
kept down during many generations seemed to him unjust
and cruel; and it was scarcely possible for a man of Ins
abilities not to perceive that, in a contest against the Jaco¬
bins, the Roman Catholics were his natural allies. Had lie
been able to do all that he wished, it is probable that a
wise and liberal policy would have averted the rebellion of
1798. But the difficulties which he encountered were
great, perhaps insurmountable; and the Roman Catholics
were, rather by bis misfortune than by his fault, thrown
into the hands of the Jacobins. There was a third great
rising of the Irishry against the Englishry, a rising not less
formidable than the risings of 1641 and 1689. The Eng¬
lishry remained victorious; and it was necessary for Pitt,
as it had been necessary for Oliver Cromwell and William
of Orange before him, to consider how the victory should
be usedf It is only just to his memory to say that he
formed a scheme of policy, so grand and so simple, so
righteous and so humane, that it would alone entitle him to
a high place among statesmen. He determined to make
Ireland one kingdom with England, and, at the same time,
to relieve the Roman Catholic laity from civil disabilities,
and to grant a public maintenance to the Roman Catholic
clergy, tlad he been able to carry these noble designs
into effect, the Union would have been an Union indeed.
It would have been inseparably associated in the minds of
the great majority of Irishmen with civil and religious free¬
dom
and the old Parliament in College Green would have
been regretted only by a small knot of discarded jobbers
and oppressors, and would have been remembered by the
body of the nation with the loathing and contempt due to
the most tyrannical and the most corrupt assembly that had^
ever sate in Europe. But Pitt could execute only one half
of what he had projected. He succeeded in obtaining the
consent of the Parliaments of both kingdoms to the Union :
but that reconciliation of races and sects, without which the
Union could exist only in name, was not accomplished. He
was well aware that he was likely to find difficulties in the
closet. But he flattered himself that, by cautious and dex¬
terous management, those difficulties might be overcome.
Unhappily, there were traitors and sycophants in high
place who did not suffer him to take his own time and
his own way, but prematurely disclosed his scheme to
the king, and disclosed it in the manner most likely to
irritate and alarm a weak and diseased mind. His Ma¬
jesty absurdly imagined that his coronation oath bound
him to refuse his assent to any bill for relieving Roman
Catholics from civil disabilities. To argue with him
was impossible. Dundas tried to explain the matter, but
was told to keep his Scotch metaphysics to himself.
Pitt, and Pitt’s ablest colleagues, resigned their offices.
It was necessary that the King should make a new ar¬
rangement. But by this time his anger and distress had
brought back the malady which had, many years before,
incapacitated him for the discharge of his functions. He
actually assembled his family, read the Coronation oath to
them, and told them that, if he broke it, the Crown would
immediately pass to the House of Savoy. It was not until
after an interregnum of several weeks that he regained the
full use of his small faculties, and that a ministry after his
own heart was at length formed.
The materials out of which he had to construct a govern¬
ment were neither solid nor splendid. To that party, weak
in numbers, but strong in every kind of talent, which was
hostile to the domestic and foreign policy of his late ad¬
visers, he could not have recourse. For that party, while
it differed from his late advisers on every point on which
they had been honoured with his approbation, cordially
agreed with them as to the single matter which had brought
on them his displeasure. All that was left to him was to
call up the rear ranks of the old ministry to form the front
rank* of a new ministry. In an age pre-eminently fruit¬
ful of parliamentary talents, a cabinet was formed contain¬
ing hardly a single man who, in parliamentary talents, could
be considered as even of the second rate. The most im¬
portant offices in the state were bestowed on decorous and
laborious mediocrity. Henry Addington was at the head
of the Treasury. He had been an early, indeed a heredi¬
tary, friend of Pitt, and had by Pitt’s influence been placed,
while still a young man, in the chair of the House of Com¬
mons. He was universally admitted to have been the best
speaker that had sate in that chair since the retirement of
Onslow. But nature had not bestowed on him very vi¬
gorous faculties ; and the highly respectable situation which
he had long occupied with honour had rather unfitted than
fitted him for the discharge of his new duties. His busi¬
ness had been to bear himself evenly between contending
factions. He had taken no part in the war of words ; and
he had always been addressed with marked deference by
the great orators who thundered against each other from
his right and from his left. It was not strange that when,
for the first time, he had to encounter keen and vigorous
antagonists, who dealt hard blows without the smallest cere¬
mony, he should have been awkward and unready, or that
the air of dignity and authority which he had acquired in
his former post, and of which he had not divested himself,
should have made his helplessness laughable and pitiable.
Nevertheless, during many months, his power seemed to
stand firm. He was a favourite with the King, whom he
resembled in nai’rowness of mind, and to whom he was more
obsequious than Pitt had ever been. The nation was put
into high good humour by a peace with France. The en¬
thusiasm with which the upper and middle classes had
rushed into the war had spent itself. Jacobinism was no
longer formidable. Everywhere there was a strong reac¬
tion against what was called the atheistical and anarchical
philosophy of the eighteenth century. Bonaparte, now hiist
Consul, was busied in constructing out of the ruins of old in¬
stitutions a new ecclesiastical establishment and a new order
of knighthood. That nothing less than the dominion of the
whole civilised world would satisfy his selfish ambition was
not yet suspected ; nor did even wise men see any reason to
doubt that he might be as safe a neighbour as any prince of
the House of Bourbon had been. I he treaty of Amiens
was therefore hailed by the great body of the English people
with extravagant joy. The popularity of the minister was
for the moment immense. His want of parliamentary abi¬
lity was, as yet, of little consequence: for he had scarcely
any adversary to encounter. The old opposition, delighted
by the peace, regarded him with favour. A new opposition
had indeed been formed by some of the late ministers,
and was led by Grenville in the House of Lords, and by
Windham in the House of Commons. But the new oppo¬
sition could scarcely muster ten votes, and was regarded
with no favour by the country. On Pitt the ministers re¬
lied as on their firmest support. He had not, like some of
his colleagues, retired in anger. He had expressed the
Pitt,
William.
o
Pitt,
William.
PITT, WILLIAM.
greatest respect for the conscientious scruple which had France happy bv mild administmtinn anrl i • t •
taken possession of the royal mind; and he had promised our country mio-ht have lonsr continued f ^l e£ls atlon’
h!s suc“SSorS all the help in his power. In private his ad- vernment of faFr intentions !nd "eeblfaMif ^n \S°'
vtee was at their servtee. In Parliament he took his seat on pily, the treaty of Amiens had scarcely been si" P11^'
the bench behind them ; and, in more than one debate, de- the restless ambition and the insimoortahlp insol^06 ’ 'r o11
fended them with powers far superior to their own. The First Consul convinced the grearbodi of ,heC|nyl
King perfectly understood the value of such assistance. On people that the peace «o eaferlv wnlr-nnwl ^i Sh
one occasion, at the palace, he took the old minister and precarious armistFce As ’ "T T'y 11
“IfWethree”he8aid- TndeFeSc“d,he T:"
But it was hafdly possible, human nature being what it is, crCLbruneiinesnsatonntlTeatelkh“d’lmen’i00^ with,
and, more especially, Pitt and Addington being what they would ha“con end aaaimt an elm SU1f Cab‘net, "'h'Ch
were, that this union should be durable. P&, consciou^ 0^ Ae
741
Pitt,
William.
of superior powers, imagined that the place which he had
quitted was now occupied by a mere puppet which he had
set up, which he was to govern while he suffered it to remain,
and which he was to fling aside as soon as he wished to re¬
sume his old position. Nor was it long before he began to
pine for the power which he had relinquished. He had
been so early raised to supreme authority in the state, and
had enjoyed that authority so long, that it had become ne¬
cessary to him. In retirement his days passed heavily. He
could not, like Fox, forget the pleasures and cares of ambi¬
tion in the company of Euripides or Herodotus. Pride re-
strained him from intimating, even to his dearest friends,
that he wished to be again minister. But he thought it
strange, almost ungrateful, that his wish had not been di¬
vined, that it had not been anticipated, by one whom he re¬
garded as his deputy.
Addington, on the other hand, was by no means inclined
to descend from iiis high position. He was, indeed, under
a delusion much resembling that of Abon Hassan in the
Arabian tale. His brain was turned by his short and un¬
real Caliphate. He took his elevation quite seriously, attri¬
buted it to his own merit, and considered himself as one of
the great triumvirate of English statesmen, as worthy to
make a third with Pitt and Fox.
Such being the feelings of the late minister and of the
present minister, a rupture was inevitable; and there was
no want of persons bent on making that rupture speedy and
violent. Some of these persons wounded Addington’s pride
by representing him as a lacquey, sent to keep a place on
the Ireasury bench till his master should find it convenient
to come. Others took every opportunity of praising him
at Pitt’s expense. Pitt had waged a long, a bloody, a
costly, an unsuccessful war. Addington had made peace.
Pitt had suspended the constitutional liberties of English¬
men. Under Addington those liberties were again enjoyed.
Pitt had wasted the public resources. Addington was
carefully nursing them. It was sometimes but too evident
that these compliments were not unpleasing to Addington.
Pitt became cold and reserved. During many months he
remained at a distance from London. Meanwhile his
most intimate friends, in spite of his declarations that he
made no complaint, and that he had no wish for office,
exerted themselves to effect a change of ministry. His
favourite disciple, George Canning, young, ardent, ambi¬
tious, with great powers and great virtues, but with a
temper too restless and a wit too satirical for his own hap¬
piness, was indefatigable. He spoke; he wrote; he in¬
ti igued ; he tried to induce a large number of the supporters
of the government to sign a round robin desiring a change;
he made game of Addington and of Addington’s relations
m a succession of lively pasquinades. The minister’s par¬
tisans retorted with equal acrimony, if not with equal viva-
cit). Pitt could keep out of the affray only by keeping
0„ P^ti08 altogether; and this it soon became impos¬
sible for him to do. Had Napoleon, content with the first
p ace among the sovereigns of the Continent, and with a
mi itaiy icputation surpassing that of Marlborough or of
urenne, devoted himself to the noble task of making
of Frederick the Great. It is true that Addington migS
easily have been a better war minister than Pitt, and could
not possibly have been a worse. But Pitt had cast a spell
on the public mind. The eloquence, the judgment, the
calm and disdainful firmness which he had, during many
7efirSp d,sPlayed iu Parliament, deluded the world into the
belief that he must be eminently qualified to superintend
every department of politics; and they imagined, even
after the miserable failures of Dunkirk, of Quiberon, and
of the Helder, that he was the only statesman who could
cope with Bonaparte. This feeling was nowhere stronger
than among Addington’s own colleagues. The pressure
put on him was so strong, that he could not help yielding
to it: yet, even in yielding, he showed how far he was
fiom knowing his own place. His first proposition was, that
some insignificant nobleman should be First Lord of the
1 reasury and nominal head of the administration, and that
the real power should be divided between Pitt and himself
who were to be secretaries of state. Pitt, as might have
been expected, refused even to discuss such a scheme, and
talked of a with bitter mirth. “ Which secretaryship was
offered to you f his friend Wilberforce asked. “ Really ”
said Pitt, “ I had not the curiosity to inquire.” Adding¬
ton was frightened into bidding higher. He offered to
resign the 1 reasury to Pitt, on condition that there should
be no extensive change in the government. But Pitt
would listen to no such terms. Then came a dispute such
as often arises after negotiations orally conducted, even
when the negotiators are men of strict honour. Pitt gave
one account of what had passed; Addington gave another;
and though the discrepancies were not such as necessarily
implied any intentional violation of truth on either side
both were greatly exasperated.
Meanwhile the quarrel with the First Consul had come
to a crisis. On the 16th of May 1803, the King sent a
message calling on the House of Commons to support him
m withstanding the ambitious and encroaching policy of
h ranee; and on the 22d, the House took the message into
consideration.
Pitt had now been living many months in retirement.
Ihere had been a general election since he had spoken in
1 aihament, and there were two hundred members who had
nevei heard him. It was known that on this occasion he
would be in his place, and curiosity was wound up to the
highest point. Unfortunately, the short-hand writers were
in consequence of some mistake, shut out on that day from
the gallery, so that the newspapers contained only a very
meagre report of the proceedings. But several accounts of
what passed are extant; and of those accounts, the most
interesting is contained in an unpublished letter written by
a very young member, John William Ward, afterwards
Earl of Dudley. W hen Pitt rose, he was received with
loud cheering. At every pause in his speech there was a
burst of applause. The peroration is said to have been
one of the most animated and magnificent ever heard in
Parliament. “ Pitt’s speech,” Fox wrote a few days later,
was admired very much, and very justly. I think it was
the best he ever made in that style.” The debate was
c
742 PITT, W
Pitt, adjourned; and on the second night Fox replied in an
William., oration which, as the most zealous Pittites were forced to
acknowledge, left the palm of eloquence doubtful. Ad¬
dington made a pitiable appearance between the two great
rivals; and it was observed that Pitt, while exhorting the
Commons to stand resolutely by the executive government
against France, said not a word indicating esteem or friend¬
ship for the prime minister.
War was speedily declared. The First Consul threatened
to invade England at the head of the conquerors of Bel¬
gium and Italy, and formed a great camp near the Straits
of Dover. On the other side of those Straits the whole
population of our island was ready to rise up as one man in
defence of the soil. At this conjuncture, as at some other
great conjunctures in our history, the conjuncture of 1660,
for example, and the conjuncture of 1688, there was a
general disposition among honest and patriotic men to for¬
get old quarrels, and to regard as a friend every person
who was ready, in the existing emergency, to do his part
towards the saving of the state. A coalition of all the first
men in the country would, at that moment, have been as
popular as the coalition of 1783 had been unpopular. Alone
in the kingdom the King looked with perfect complacency
on a cabinet in which no man superior to himself in genius
was to be found, and was so far from being willing to ad¬
mit all his ablest subjects to office that he was bent on ex¬
cluding them all.
A few months passed before the different parties which
agreed in regarding the government with dislike and con¬
tempt came to an understanding with each other. But in
the spring of 1804 it became evident that the weakest of
ministries would have to defend itself against the strongest
of oppositions, an opposition made up of three oppositions,
each of which would, separately, have been formidable from
ability, and which, when united, were also formidable from
number. The party which had opposed the peace, headed
by Grenville and Windham, and the party which had op¬
posed the renewal of the war, headed by Fox, concurred
in thinking that the men now in power were incapable of
either making a good peace or waging a vigorous war.
Pitt had, in 1802, spoken for peace against the party of
Grenville, and had, in 1803, spoken for war against the
party of Fox. But of the capacity of the cabinet, and
especially of its chief, for the conduct of great affairs, he
thought as meanly as either Fox or Grenville. Questions
were easily found on which all the enemies of the govern¬
ment could act cordially together. The unfortunate First
Lord of the Treasury, who had, during the earlier months
of his administration, been supported by Pitt on one side,
and by Fox on the other, now had to answer Pitt, and to
be answered by Fox. Two sharp debates, followed by
close divisions, made him weary of his post. It was known,
too, that the Upper House was ever more hostile to him
than the Lower, that the Scotch representative peers
wavered, that there were signs of mutiny among the
Bishops. In the cabinet itself there was discord, and,
worse than discord, treachery. It was necessary to give
way : the ministry was dissolved; and the task of forming
a government was entrusted to Pitt.
Pitt was of opinion that there was now an opportunity,
such as had never before offered itself, and such as might
never offer itself again, of uniting in the public service, on
honourable terms, all the eminent talents of the kingdom.
The passions to which the French Revolution had given
birth were extinct. The madness of the innovator and
the madness of the alarmist had alike had their day.
Jacobinism and Anti-jacobinism had gone out of fashion
together. The most liberal statesman did not think that
season propitious for schemes of parliamentary reform ; and
the most conservative statesman could not pretend that
there was any occasion for gagging bills and suspensions of
1L L IA M.
the Habeas Corpus Act. The great struggle for independ- Pitt,
ence and national honour occupied all minds ; and those who William
were agreed as to the duty of maintaining that struggle ^
with vigour might well postpone to a more convenient time all
disputes about matters comparatively unimportant. Strongly
impressed by these considerations, Pitt wished to form a
ministry including all the first men in the country. The
Treasury he reserved for himself; and to Fox he proposed
to assign a share of power little inferior to his own.
The plan was excellent: but the King would not hear
of it. Dull, obstinate, unforgiving, and, at that time, half
mad, he positively refused to admit Fox into his service.
Anybody else, even men who had gone as far as Fox, or
further than Fox, in what His Majesty considered as Jaco¬
binism, Sheridan, Grey, Erskine, should be graciously
received ; but Fox never. During several hours Pitt la¬
boured in vain to reason down this senseless antipathy.
That he was perfectly sincere there can be no doubt; but
it was not enough to be sincere; he should have been re¬
solute. Had he declared himself determined not to take
office without Fox, the royal obstinacy would have given
way, as it gave way, a few months later, when opposed to
the immutable resolution of Lord Grenville. In an evil
hour Pitt yielded. He flattered himself with the hope that,
though he consented to forego the aid of his illustrious rival,
there would still remain ample materials for the formation
of an efficient ministry. That hope was cruelly disappointed.
Fox entreated his friends to leave personal considerations
out of the question, and declared that he would support,
with the utmost cordiality, an efficient and patriotic ministry
from which he should be himself excluded. Not only his
friends, however, but Grenville and Grenville’s adherents,
answered with one voice, that the question was not personal,
that a great constitutional principle was at stake, and that
they would not take office while a man eminently quali¬
fied to render service to the commonwealth was placed
under a ban merely because he was disliked at Court.
All that was left to Pitt was to construct a government
out of the wreck of Addington’s feeble administration,
The small circle of his personal retainers furnished him
with a very few useful assistants, particularly Dundas, who
had been created Viscount Melville, Lord Harrowby, and
Canning.
Such was the inauspicious manner in which Pitt entered
on his second administration. The whole history of that
administration was of a piece with the commencement.
Almost every month brought some new disaster or disgrace.
To the war with France was soon added a war with Spain.
The opponents of the minister were numerous, able, and
active. His most useful coadjutors he soon lost. Sick¬
ness deprived him of the help of Lord Harrowby. It was
discovered that Lord Melville had been guilty of highly
culpable laxity in transactions relating to public money.
He was censured by the House of Commons, driven from
office, ejected from the Privy Council, and impeached of
high crimes and misdemeanours. The blow fell heavy on
Pitt. It gave him, he said in Parliament, a deep pang ;
and, as he uttered the word pang, his lip quivered; his
voice shook ; he paused; and his hearers thought that he
was about to burst into tears. Such tears shed by Eldon
would have moved nothing but laughter. Shed by the
warm-hearted and open-hearted Fox, they would have
moved sympathy, but would have caused no surprise.
But a tear from Pitt would have been something por¬
tentous. He suppressed his emotion, however, and pro¬
ceeded with his usual majestic self-possession.
His difficulties compelled him to resort to various expe¬
dients. At one time Addington was persuaded to accept
office with a peerage; but he brought no additional strength
to the government. Though he went through the form of
reconciliation, it was impossible for him to forget the past.
PITT, WILLIAM.
^ ''^e remained in place he was jealous and punctilious ;
YViiiiann and he soon retired again. At another time Pitt renewed
his efForts to overcome his master’s aversion to Fox ; and it
was rumoured that the King’s obstinacy was gradually
giving way. But, meanwhile, it was impossible for the
minister to conceal from the public eye the decay of his
health and the constant anxiety which gnawed at his heart.
His sleep was broken. His food ceased to nourish him. All
who passed him in the Park, all who had interviews with
him in Downing Street, saw misery written in his face.
1 he peculiar look which he wore during the last months of
his life was often pathetically described bv Wilberforce,
who used to call it the Austerlitz look.
Still the vigour of Pitt’s intellectual faculties, and the in¬
trepid haughtiness of his spirit, remained unaltered. He had
staked everything on a great venture. He had succeeded
in forming another mighty coalition against the French
ascendancy. The united forces of Austria, Russia, and Eng¬
land might, he hoped, oppose an insurmountable barrier to
the ambition of the common enemy* But the genius and
eneigy of Tvapoleon prevailed. \Vhile the English troops
were preparing to embark for Germany, while the Russian
troops were slowly coming up from Poland, he, with rapidity
unprecedented in modern war, moved a hundred thousand
men from the shores of the Ocean to the Black Forest, and
compelled a great Austrian army to surrender at Ulm. To
the first faint rumours of this calamity Pitt wmuld give no
credit. He was irritated by the alarms of those around
htm. <( Do not believe a word of it,” he said : “ it is all a
fiction. 1 he next day he received a Dutch newspaper
containing the capitulation. He knew no Dutch. It was
Sunday ; and the public offices were shut. He carried the
papei to Lord Malmesbury, who had been minister in
Holland ; and Lord Malmesbury translated it. Pitt tried to
bear up , but the shock was too great; and he went away
with death in his face.
The news of the battle of Trafalgar arrived four days
later, and seemed for a moment to revive him. Forty-
eight hours after that most glorious and most mournful of
victories had been announced to the country came the
Lord Mayor’s day ; and Pitt dined at Guildhall. His
popularity had declined. But on this occasion the multi¬
tude, greatly excited by the recent tidings, welcomed him
enthusiastically, took off his horses in Cheapside, and drew
his carriage up King Street. When his health was
drunk, he returned thanks in two or three of those stately
sentences of which he had a boundless command. Seve¬
ral of those who heard him laid up his words in their
hearts; for they were the last words that he ever uttered in
public: “Let us hope that England, having saved herself
by her energy, may save Europe by her example.”
This was but a momentary rally. Austerlitz soon com¬
pleted what Ulm had begun. Early in December Pitt had
retired to Bath, in the hope that he might there gather
strength for the approaching session. While he was lan¬
guishing there on his sofa arrived the news that a decisive
battle had been fought and lost in Moravia, that the coa¬
lition was dissolved, that the Continent was at the feet of
France. He sank down under the blow. Ten days later,
he was so emaciated that his most intimate friends hardly
knew him. He came up from Bath by slow journeys, and,
on the 11th of January 1806, reached his villa at Putney.
Parliament was to meet on the 21st. On the 20th was to
be the parliamentary dinner at the house of the First Lord
of the Treasury in Downing Street; and the cards were
already issued. But the days of the great minister were
numbered. The only chance for his life, and that a very
slight chance, was, that he should resign his office, and pass
some months in profound repose. His colleagues paid him
very short visits, and carefully avoided political conversa¬
tion. But his spirit, long accustomed to dominion, could
743
hMv W • w rG y’ rehnquish hopes which every- Pitt,
body but himself perceived to be vain. On the daV on William.
winch he was carried into his bedroom at Putney, the Mar- ,  
quess Wellesley, whom he had long loved, whom he had
sent to govern India, and whose administration had been
eminently able, energetic, and successful, arrived in London
arter an absence of eight years. The friends saw each
other once more. There was an affectionate meeting, and
a last parting. T hat it was a last parting Pitt did not seem
to be aware. He fancied himself to be recovering, talked
on various subjects cheerfully, and with an unclouded
mmd, and pronounced a warm and discerning eulosnum on
the Marquess’s brother Arthur. “ I never,” he said, “ met
with any military man with whom it was so satisfactory to
converse. The excitement and exertion of this interview
were too much for the sick man. He fainted away ; and
Loid W ellesley left the house, convinced that the close
was fast approaching.
And now members of Parliament were fast comino- Up to
London. The chiefs of the opposition met for the purpose
of considering the course to be taken on the first day of the
session. It was easy to guess what would be the language
of the Kings speech, and of the address which would be
moved m answer to that speech. An amendment con¬
demning the policy of the government had been prepared,
and was to have been proposed in the House of Commons
by Lord Henry Petty, a young nobleman who had already
uon for himself that place in the esteem of his country
which, after the lapse of more than half a century, he still
retains. He was unwilling, however, to come forward as
the accuser of one who was incapable of defending himself.
Lord Grenville, who had been informed of Pitt’s state
by Lord Wellesley, and had been deeply affected by it
earnestly recommended forbearance; and Fox, with cha¬
racteristic generosity and good nature, gave his voice against
attacking his now helpless rival. “ Sunt lacrymte rerum,”
he said, “ et mentem mortalia tangunt.” On the first dav,
therefore, there was no debate. It was rumoured that
evening that Pitt was better. But on the following morn¬
ing his physicians pronounced that there were no hopes,
ihe commanding faculties of which he had been too proud
were beginning to fail. His old tutor and friend, the
Bishop of Lincoln, informed him of his danger, and gave
such religious advice and consolation as a confused and
obscured mind could receive. Stories were told of devout
sentiments fervently uttered by the dying man. But these
stories found no credit with anybody who knew him. Wil¬
berforce pronounced it impossible that they could be true;
“ Pitt,” he added, “ was a man who always said less than
he thought on such topics.” It was asserted in many after-
dinnei speeches, Grub Street elegies, and academic prize
poems and prize declamations, that the great minister died
exclaiming, “ Oh my country !” This is a fable ; but it is
true that the last words which he uttered, while he knew
what he said, were broken exclamations about the alarming
state of public affairs. He ceased to breathe on the morn¬
ing of the 23d of January 1806, the twenty-fifth anniver¬
sary of the day on which he first took his seat in Parlia¬
ment. He was in his forty-seventh year, and had been,
during near nineteen years, First Lord of the Treasury,
and undisputed chief of the administration. Since parlia¬
mentary government was established in England, no Eng¬
lish statesman has held supreme power so long. Walpole,
it is true, was First Lord of the Treasury during more than
twenty years, but it was not till Walpole had been some
time First Lord of the Treasury that he could be properly
called Prime Minister. r r j
It was moved in .the House of Commons that Pitt should
be honoured with a public funeral and a monument. The
motion was opposed by Fox in a speech which deserves
to be studied as a model of good taste and good feeling,
744
PIT
Pittacus. The task was the most invidious that ever an orator under-
. ^ ^ i took: but it was performed with a humanity and delicacy
which were warmly acknowledged by the mourning friends
of him who was gone. The motion was carried by 288
votes to 89.
The 22d of February was fixed for the funeral. The
corpse having lain in state during two days in the Painted
Chamber, was borne with great pomp to the northern
transept of the Abbey. A splendid train of princes, nobles,
bishops, and privy councillors followed. The grave of
Pitt had been made near to the spot where his great father
lay, near also to the spot where his great rival was soon to
lie. The sadness of the assistants was beyond that of or¬
dinary mourners. For he whom they were committing to
the dust had died of sorrows and anxieties of which none of
the survivors could be altogether without a share. Wil-
berforce, who carried the banner before the hearse, de¬
scribed the awful ceremony with deep feeling. As the
coffin descended into the earth, he said, the eagle face of
Chatham from above seemed to look down with consterna¬
tion into the dark house which was receiving all that re¬
mained of so much power and glory.
All parties in the House of Commons readily concurred
in voting forty thousand pounds to satisfy the demands of
Pitt’s creditors. Some of his admirers seemed to consider
the magnitude of his embarrassments as a circumstance
highly honourable to him ; but men of sense will probably
be of a different opinion. It is far better, no doubt, that a
great minister should carry his contempt of money to excess
than that he should contaminate his hands with unlawful
gain. But it is neither right nor becoming in a man to
whom the public has given an income more than sufficient
for his comfort and dignity to bequeath to that public a
great debt, the effect of mere negligence and profusion.
As First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Ex¬
chequer, Pitt never had less than six thousand a year, be¬
sides an excellent house. In 1792 he was forced by his
royal master’s friendly importunity to accept for life the
office of Warden of the Cinque Ports, with near four thou¬
sand a year more. He had neither wife nor child : he had
no needy relations: he had no expensive tastes: he had
no long election bills. Had he given but a quarter of an
hour a week to the regulation of his household, he would
have kept his expenditure within bounds. Or, if he could
not spare even a quarter of an hour a week for that purpose,
he had numerous friends, excellent men of business, who
would have been proud to act as his stewards. One of
those friends, the chief of a great commercial house in the
PIT
city, made an attempt to put the establishment in Downing Pitten-
Street to rights ; but in vain. He found that the waste of weem.
the servants’ hall was almost fabulous. The quantity of ^v^-—
butcher’s meat charged in the bills was nine hundredweight
a week. The consumption of poultry, of fish, of tea, was
in proportion. The character of Pitt would have stood
higher if, with the disinterestedness of Pericles and of De
Witt, he had united their dignified frugality.
The memory of Pitt has been assailed, times innumerable,
often justly, often unjustly; but it has suffered much less
from his assailants than from his eulogists. For, during
many years, his name was the rallying cry of a class of
men with whom, at one of those terrible conjunctures which
confound all ordinary distinctions, he was accidentally
and temporarily connected, but to whom, on almost all
great questions of principle, he was diametrically opposed.
The haters of parliamentary reform called themselves
Pittites, not choosing to remember that Pitt made three
motions for parliamentary reform, and that, though he
thought that such a reform could not safely be made while
the passions excited by the French Revolution were raging,
he never uttered a word indicating that he should not be
prepared at a more convenient season to bring the question
forward a fourth time. The toast of Protestant ascendency
was drunk on Pitt’s birthday by a set of Pittites who could
not but be aware that Pitt had resigned his office because
he could not carry Catholic emancipation. The defenders
of the Test Act called themselves Pittites, though they
could not be ignorant that Pitt had laid before George the
Third unanswerable reasons for abolishing the Test Act.
The enemies of free trade called themselves Pittites, though
Pitt was far more deeoly imbued with the doctrines of
Adam Smith than either Fox or Grey. The very negro-
drivers invoked the name of Pitt, whose eloquence was never
more conspicuously displayed than when he spoke of the
wrongs of the negro. This mythical Pitt, who resembles
the genuine Pitt as little as the Charlemagne of Ariosto re¬
sembles the Charlemagne of Eginhard, has had his day.
History will vindicate the real man from calumny disguised
under the semblance of adulation, and will exhibit him as
what he was, a minister of great talents, honest intentions,
and liberal opinions, pre-eminently qualified, intellectually
and morally, for the part of a parliamentary leader, and
capable of administering with prudence and moderation the
government of a prosperous and tranquil country, but un¬
equal to surprising and terrible emergencies, and liable, in
such emergencies, to err grievously, both on the side of
weakness and on the side of violence. (t. b. m.)
PITTACUS, one of “ the seven wise men of Greece,”
was born at Mitylene in Lesbos, b.c. 652. His father’s name
was Hyrrhadius or Caicus. With the assistance of the sons
of Alcaeus, he delivered his country from the oppression of
the tyrant Melanchrus; and, in the war which the Athe¬
nians waged against Lesbos, he appeared at the head of
his countrymen, and challenged to single combat Phrynon,
the enemy’s general. As the event of the war seemed to
depend upon this combat, Pittacus had recourse to artifice,
and, when engaged, entangled his adversary in a net which
he had concealed under his shield, and easily despatched
him. He was amply rewarded for this victory, and his
countrymen, sensible of his merit, unanimously appointed
him governor of their city, with unlimited authority. In
this capacity Pittacus behaved with the greatest moderation
and prudence ; and after he had governed his fellow-citizens
with the strictest justice, and enforced the most salutary
laws, he voluntarily resigned the sovereign power, after hav-
ing enjoyed it for ten years; observing, that the virtues
and innocence of private life were incompatible with the
power and influence of a sovereign. His disinterestedness
gained him many admirers; and when the Mitylenians
wished to reward his public services by presenting him with
an immense tract of territory, he refused to accept more
land than could be contained within the space to which a
javelin could be thrown. He died in the seventieth year
of his age, about 582 b.c., after he had spent the last ten
years of his life in literary ease and peaceful retirement.
Numerous anecdotes of his clemency, wisdom, and con¬
tempt of wealth are related by Diogenes Laertius, Plutarch,
.Elian, and other writers. The former mentions various
communications between him and Croesus, and preserves a
short letter, said to have been written by Pittacus, declin¬
ing an invitation to Sardis. Pittacus composed, according
to Diogenes, 600 elegiac verses, of which only a few lines
remain. (See Bergk, Poet. Lyr. Grcec.)
PITTENWEEM, a royal and parliamentary burgh and
seaport of Scotland, in the county of Fife, on the north
shore of the Firth of Forth, about a mile W. of Anstruther,
and 24 N.N.E. of Edinburgh. It is an old town, and con-
PIT
Pitts
sists of two mam streets, with others crossing them. There
Pittsburgh.W!th a ®ma11 Prison’ an ancient parish
church a United Presbyterian and an Episcopal church.
he inhabitants are chiefly engaged in fishing and curing
hsh. Pittenweem unites with East and West Anstruther,
Lrail, Lupar-Fife, Kilrenny, and St Andrews in returning
a thf P01186 of Commons. Pop. (1851), of the
PapSr!’,A4/3 ’ of tIle parliamentary burgh, 1450.
PI P TS, William, was born in London in 1790, and
)rought up by his father to his own business, that of an en-
grayer. At the age of nineteen he was married, and was em¬
ployed by l laxman in chasing the shield of Achilles. Pitts
was also employed on the Wellington shield, which was exe-
cuted under the immediate inspection of Stothard. After¬
wards Pitts engraved two series of designs from Virgil and
ssian. \\ ilham Pitts was an unassuming artist, and
altogether unskilled in winning his way to popularity and
ortune. How far this had any reason in impelling him to
the fatal deed which he is known to have committed, it is
H i rn t0cJA dgM' He destr°yed himself with poison on
the 16th of April 1840.
The following is a list of his chief productions, arranged
according to their dates : The Deluge,” 1823; “Samson
Slaying the Lion, the “ Creation of Eve,” and “ Herod’s
“SE N’ V Chariot Race>” “Pleiades,” and
Shield of Alneas,’ 1828; the “Rape of Proserpine”
SE H ” ifoUnptia,ls 0f Perith°us,” 1824P; the “ Brunswick
Sh,1el1J.u18t0;lotile AP°theoses of Spenser, Shakspeare,
and Milton, 1831; the “Shield of Hercules,” 1834; a
ong bas-rehef or frieze of all the English sovereigns from
C Conquest, !837; a design for a masonic trophy, 1839;
the Triumph of Ceres,” 1840; the “Kemble Tribute”
and a vase executed for her Majesty as a sponsal present by
Her, of exquisite design as to its general form, and poeti¬
cally embellished with groups in relief signifying Birth,
Infancy, Instruction, Education, and Love. °
PLPTSBURGH, or Pittsburg, a town of the United
Mates of North America, state of Pennsylvania, stands at
the head of the Ohio river, which is formed here by the
confluence of the swift-flowing Alleghany from the N., and
the deep and still Monongahela from the S.,252 miles W. by
N. of Harrisburg, and 357 W. of Philadelphia. It is built
on a triangular plain between the two rivers, and bounded
on the E. by several hills. On the N. bank of the Alle¬
ghany stand Alleghany city and Manchester ; and to the S.
of the Monongahela, South Pittsburgh and Birmingham;
all which suburbs form virtually one town with Pittsburgh
’tself, with which they are connected by bridges and steam
temes. The city proper is regularly laid out, the older
portion, consisting of streets parallel and at right angles to
the Monongahela, and the more recent streets being simi-
arly arranged along the Alleghany; so that the various
streets meet obliquely, and resemble in this respect the
ower part of New York. The houses are generally of
brick, many of them handsome, especially towards the E.
end where there are numerous delightful residences. The
PIT
745
. - .   'jcuguuui icsiuences. me
neighbouring country is picturesque and beautiful; and the
only drawback to Pittsburgh as a place of residence, is the
dense clouds of smoke which issue from the many chim-
neys, and hang over the town and vicinity. Among the
public buildings, one of the most conspicuous is the court¬
house, which stands on a hill near the E. end of the town,
it is m the Crecan style, with a portico in front, and a
<iome 148 feet high. The custom-house, which includes
also the post-office, the two new market-houses, and a
large theatre, are all fine buildings. The churches in Pitts-
mTnh US Sublirbs are about ninety in number, and
rlnZl IG™ °f gr,eat beauty- I’he Roman Catholic
cathedial, the Episcopal church of St Peter, and the First
^ ‘7 conspicuous. Of the
educational establishment
VOL. XVII.
in Pittsburgh, the most
im-
fo0rrmnChruerchel7hl?hiCa' semi"a,'y <’f‘ho Associated lie-Pittsburgh,
roim Umrch, with three professors and thirty-five stu-
dents m 18o6-/ ; and that of the Presbyter J Churd,
s,mated m Alleghany Tow n, with two professors and for i:
eight students m 1856-7. The Western University If
Pennsylvania winch formerly existed here, was destroyed
by die in 184o, and has not since been restored. Besides
the institutions already named, the town contains upwards
o fifty schools ot various kinds, attended by about 12,000
pupils. The town and suburbs also contain several lite-
rary associations, hospitals, banks, hotels, &c. ; and nume-
i ous newspapers and other periodicals are published. Pitts¬
burgh ,s chiefly important as a manufacturing and com¬
ma cial town, in which respect it is rapidly increasing-
and from its great natural advantages, will probably soon
become one ot the greatest cities in the world. The im¬
mense supplies of excellent coal, which are obtained in the
vicinity with comparatively little labour and expense, not
only supply a profitable article of export, but afford fuel
for the numerous mills and factories in the town. Be¬
sides coal, various ores, timber, and agricultural produce
can be easily obtained in the neighbourhood in the ut¬
most profusion. Pittsburgh contained in 1850 16 iron¬
works of various kinds, employing 2161 hands, consuming
a"n’la"y 4,152,300 bushels of coal, 900 cords of wood, and
bo,8 J6 tons of iron ; and producing 52,932 tons of iron and
stee m various forms. In the same year there were
30 large and several smaller foundries, producing goods
to the value ofL.400,000 annually; 33 glass-works; 5
white-lead factories; o large and several smaller cotton-
tactones, with a capital of L.300,000, and producing an¬
nually L.320 000 worth of goods; a copper rolling-mill;
a copper smelting-house ; and manufactories of gun-bar¬
rels, saws, axes, agricultural implements, &c. The whole
number of manufactories in Pittsburgh, according to the
census of 1850, was 819, and in Alleghany city 120; em-
ploying 10,253 hands, and producing annually goods to
he value of L.2,475,710. This calculation, however, is
thought to be much understated; and it is probable that
m xr Va Ue °f manufactured goods was as much
as L.5,000,000. The total amount of coal consumed in
99%Smnm'tarif'T ma"ufactures and other purposes was
^.2,305,000 bushels. Besides this, large quantities of coal
??An?aoitetu PlttsburSh’ amounting in 1853 to
14,403,921 bushels. In commerce as well as in manu¬
factures, I ittsburgh occupies an important place amono-
American towns; and for this it is indebted in a great
degree to the advantages of its situation, at the foot of the
western slope of the Alleghanies, and at the meeting of
three navigable rivers, which afford easy communication
over many thousand miles of water, to the W.; while at
the same time it is within a convenient distance of the
great lakes to the N., and of the large cities on the At¬
lantic, with both of which it communicates by railway
and canal. Thus not only the entire trade of Pennsyl¬
vania, but large quantities of goods from New York, pass
through Pittsburgh to the cities and regions of the West.
1 he principal harbour is on the Monongahela, which is
deeper than the Alleghany. _ The building of steamers is
extensively carried on at Pittsburgh, where they can be
constructed better and more cheaply than at the western
ports. I he number of steam-vessels launched in 1854 was
upwards of 80, many of them of great size and power.
I he aggregate tonnage of Pittsburgh, June 30, 1852
was 64,157, of which 57,783 were steamers. Pittsburgh
is thus, in the amount of its steam navigation, the third city
in the states, being surpassed only by New Orleans and
New York in this respect. There were exported by canal
from Pittsburgh ,n 1852, 17,577,187 lb. of iron, 7,364,436
lb. of steel, 39,586,694 lb. of bacon, 20,490,918 lb of
unmanufactured tobacco, 1,670,922 lb. of cotton, &c.-
O B
746
Piura
II
Pius.
P I u
and among the articles imported by the ®am,e
year were,-50,564,566 lb. of iron, 17,457,753 lb. of Iwd-
, ware, 17,885,702 lb. of groceries, 17,102,061 lb' of ^e’
and 237,616 lb. of leather. Of the entire trade o
town there are no statistics: it is, however, gieat and
ranidlv increasing, the trade with the lakes having doubled
Self Ivery yeai- since 1844. The site of Pittsburgh was
first visited bv Europeans in 1753, when, as the ienc
were proceeding to take possession of the country along
the Alleghany and Ohio, Washington was sent by Govei
nor Dinwiddie of Virginia to reconnoitre their movements.
He reached the confluence of the Alleghany an
nongahela, and recommended it as a good site tor a •
In the next year, accordingly, a party was sent o t
erect one; but before it was completed they were obll«ed
to surrender it to a superior body of French, who took
possession, and completed the fort an act of agg
E led’ .0 the war with the French that raged annul,
taneously in all the quarters of the globe. In 1755 Lre-
neral Bmddock made an unsuccessful attempt to regain
the fort; but in 1758 it was taken by General Forbes,
and named Fort Pitt in honour of the first great minister
of that name. The fort was besieged by the Indians
1765; and in the same year the town of Pittsburgh uas
founded. In 1806 it was incorporated as a borough ; and
in 1816 chartered as a city. The bridges over the A -
leghany and Monongahela were constructed in 1819, and
the Pennsylvania Canal was opened in 1829. Since then
the town has been rapidly and steadily increasing in size
and prosperity ; and though in 1845 a fire destroyed more
than 1100 buildings and L.140,000 worth of property, yet
within a year the vacant space was nearly all rebuilt, and
the town soon recovered from the calamity. P°P’vlooO),
Pittsburgh proper, 46,601; Alleghany City, 21,261 ; ir-
mingham, 3742; city and district (18o0), 86,771; (1853)
110,241. „ . ^
PIURA, a town of Peru, capital of a province of that
name, in the department of Truxillo, on the left bank of
the river Piura, 240 miles N.N.W. of Truxillo. It is built
for the most part of brick, and the streets are narrow and
unpaved. There is a public square in the middle of the
town. The town contains several churches, government
offices, and a college attended by 120 pupils. Some trade
is carried on in maize, cotton, sugar, fruit, &c. Piura was
the first Spanish settlement in Peru. It originally stood
near the sea, but was removed to its present site on account
of the unhealthiness of its former one. Pop. about 10,000.
PIUS I. succeeded Hyginus as bishop of Rome in 142,
and died in 157. #
Pius II., 2Eneas Sylvius Piccolomini, was born on the
18th of October 1405, at Corsigni in the Sienese, the
name of which he afterwards changed into that of Pienza.
TEneas was carefully educated, and made considerable pio-
ficiency in the belles-lettres. After having finished his
studies at Siena, he in 1431 went to the council of Basil
with Cardinal Capranica, surnamed P)e Fermo, because he
was intrusted with the government of that church. .Eneas,
who acted as his secretary, was then only twenty-six years
of age. He afterwards acted in the same capacity to some
other prelates, and to Cardinal Albergati. The council of
Basil honoured him with different commissions, in order to
recompense him for the zeal with which he had defended
that assembly against Pope Eugenius IV. He was after¬
wards secretary to Frederic III., who decreed to him the
poetical crown, and sent him as ambassador to Rome, Milan,
Naples, Bohemia, and other places. Nicholas V. advanced
him to the bishopric of Trieste, which he quitted some time
afterwards for that of Siena. At last, after having distin¬
guished himself as nuncio on various occasions, he was in¬
vested with the Roman purple by Calixtus III., whom he
succeeded two years afterwards, on the 27th of August
P I u
1458. Pius II., now advanced to the Holy See, exemplified
the proverb, “ Honores mutant mores.” From the com¬
mencement of his pontificate he appeared to be jealous of
the papal prerogatives. In 1460 he issued a bull declaring
appeals from the Pope to a council to be null, erroneous,
detestable, and contrary to the sacred canons. That bull,
however, did not prevent the procurator-general of the Par¬
liament of Paris from appealing to a council in defence of
the Pragmatic Sanction, which the Pope had strenuously
opposed. Pius was then at Mantua, whither he had gone
to engage the Catholic princes to unite in a war against
the Turks. The greater part of them had agreed to fur¬
nish troops or money; but others refused both, particularly
France, which from that moment incurred his Holiness’s
aversion. But his aversion abated under Louis XL, whom
in 1461 he persuaded to abolish the Pragmatic Sanction,
which the Parliament of Paris had with so much vigour
supported.
The following year, 1462, was rendered famous by a con¬
troversy which took place between the Cordeliers and Do¬
minicans, whether or not the blood of Jesus Christ was se¬
parated from his body whilst he lay in the sepulchre. It
was also made a question whether it was separated from his
divinity. The Cordeliers affirmed that it was, but the Do¬
minicans were of an opposite opinion. As usually happens
in such disputes, the disputants called each other heretics;
and this obliged the Pontiff to issue a bull, forbidding them,
under pain of censure, to brand one another with such odious
epithets. The bull, which his Holiness published on the
26th of April, retracting what he had written to the coun¬
cil of Basil when he was its secretary, it it somewhat im¬
peached his consistency, was at least highly honourable to
his frankness and candour. “ If you find, then, anything
contrary to her doctrine, either in our dialogues, in our
letters, or in other of our works, despise these opinions, re¬
ject them, and adopt our present sentiments. Believe me
rather now that I am an old man, than when I addressed
you in my earlier days; esteem a sovereign Pontiff more
than a private person; except against Eneas Sylvius, but
receive Pius II.” It might perhaps be objected to his Hoh-
ness, that it was his dignity alone which had made him
alter his opinion. He anticipates that objection by giving
a short account of his life and actions, with the whole his¬
tory of the council of Basil, to which he went with Caidinal
Capranica in 1431; “ but,” says he, “ I was then a young
man, and without any experience, like a bird just come
from its nest.” In the meantime, the Turks were threat¬
ening Christendom. Pius, ever zealous in the defence o
religion against the infidels, formed the resolution of fitting
out a fleet at the expense of the church, and of passing
over into Asia himself, to animate the Christian princes y
his example. He repaired to Ancona with a design to em¬
bark ; but he there fell sick from the fatigue of the journey,
and expired on the 16th of August 1464, aged fifty-nine.
Pius was one of the most learned men of his time, and
also one of the most zealous pontiffs ; but being of an am¬
bitious disposition, he sometimes sacrificed to that wea -
ness. His principal works are,—Memoirs of the Council
of Basil, from the Suspension of Eugenius to the Election
of Felix; The History of the Bohemians, from their Origin
to the year 1458 ; Two books on Cosmography ; His¬
tory of Frederic III., published in 1785, in folio ; A Trea¬
tise on the Education of Children ; A Poem upon the ^>as~
sion of Jesus Christ; A Collection of Four Hundred and
Thirty-Two Letters, printed at Milan 1473 ; The Memoirs
of his own Life, published by John Gobelin Personne, ms
secretary, and printed at Rome in 1584, in 4to; Historia
Rerum Ubicumque Gestarum, of which only the first part
was published at Venice in 1477, in folio. His works were
printed at Helmstadt in 1700, in folio, with a Life prefixed
Pius III., whose original name was Antonio Todeschini
Pius.
Pius.
P I u
succeeded Alexander VI. in 1503, and died in the course
of twenty-five days afterwards.
Pius IV., whose real name was Giovanni Angelo Medici
01 Medichino, was originally of Milan, and was elected
pope in 1559. The principal event in his pontificate was
the conclusion of the long-protracted council of Trent,
which took place in 1563, two years before his death.
Pius V., who was originally called Michele Ghislieri,
was born at Boschi, in the north of Italy, in 1504, and suc¬
ceeded Pius IV. in 1566. He mounted the papal chair
with a reputation which foreboded no leniency towards the
enemies of the Church. His character had become en¬
crusted with a hard severity amid the gloom and asceticism
of a Dominican convent. His enmity against heretics had
been whetted to the keenest edge in the discharge of the
functions of inquisitor. He had also cultivated a command¬
ing eloquence, which could efficiently second his most tho¬
rough-going measures. Accordingly, Pius forthwith organ¬
ized a rigorous system of policy for the reformation and
strengthening of the Church. His first endeavour was to
prove himself a rigid disciplinarian to the corrupt priest¬
hood. He enforced the stringent rules of convent life upon
the loose-living monks; he drove the non-resident clergy
home to their benefices ; he stript off the gaudy trappings
and overthrew the luxurious tables of the worldly-minded
cardinals. The same ardent zeal turned Pius into a fire¬
brand against heretics. The pile was lighted under Car-
nesecchi, a Florentine nobleman who had dared to inves¬
tigate the opinions of the Reformers. The same punishment
was administered to Palearius, a celebrated writer who had
asserted in one of his works that the Inquisition was a sword
drawn against learning. It was not even thought beyond
the sphere of the Popedom to kindle and fan the flame of
war in 1568 against the Protestants in France. Nor was
Pius less arrogant in claiming supremacy over the kings of
the earth. In 1568 he issued his famous bull entitled In
Coend Domini, anathematizing every one who should dare to
question, limit, or abjure the absolute authority of the Holy
See, both in matters sacred and secular. In the following
year he hurled the thunders of excommunication against
Elizabeth, Queen of England, and absolved her subjects
from their allegiance. A project for effectually humbling
the Turks was also occupying his mind when he died of
stone in 1572.
Pius VI., whose original name was Giovanni Angelo
Braschi, was born at Cesena in 1717, and succeeded Cle¬
ment XIV. in 1774. Elegant, devoted to letters, fond of
the fine arts, and a well-wisher of progress, the new Pope
inaugurated his rule with a series of enlightened and
liberal-minded measures. The port of Ancona was adorned
and improved by the addition of a beautiful lighthouse;
the draining of the Pontine Marshes was undertaken, and
carried on towards completion ; the museum of the Vatican
was extended to receive a new supply of the precious relics
of antiquity; fountains and palaces were erected to revive
the splendour of the Eternal City ; and artists and scholars
were summoned from all parts of Italy to recall the brilliant
times of Leo X. Pius VI., however, though a successful
promoter of the arts of peace, had not sufficient political
sagacity to foresee and avert the attacks that were about to
be made upon his authority. Accordingly the rest of his
pontificate was involved in a long series of troubles. In
1780 the Emperor Joseph II. began to curtail the wealth
and power of the Church. The example spread ; and in
1187 the King of Naples abolished for ever certain feudal
homages which were due to the court of Rome. Immedi¬
ately afterwards followed the revolt of the Grand Duke of
Tuscany from the spiritual supremacy of the Popedom.
At length this ecclesiastical insurrection found its climax
amid the general overthrow and destruction of the French
Revolution. In that crisis the Pontift’s own possessions, and
P L A
747
those of the Church within the kingdom of France, were Pius
confiscated by the National Assembly. On his protestintr II
against these and other radical measures, his effio-y arrayed Placentia
in all the pontifical insignia, was burnt by the mob in the
garden of the Palais Royal. The murder of Basseville
the Trench ambassador in 1793, by the Roman populace’
widened the breach beyond all hope of settlement by nego¬
tiation ; and in 1797 the papal territories were invaded^by
the troops of republican France. A submission, and an
agreement to pay a fine of thirty millions of livres to the in¬
vaders were only the means of exciting new troubles. Com¬
pelled to impoverish his subjects in order to raise the contri¬
bution, he caused a general feeling of discontent. An insur¬
rection was the consequence ; the French general Duphot
was slain in the midst of the tumult; and the French army
leturned under Berthier to take more summary measures.
In 1798 the Pontiff was dethroned, his property was con¬
fiscated, and he was obliged to leave Rome under the
escort of a body of cavalry. Even in his state of deo-rada-
tion there was no rest to be found. He was removed from
Siena to Florence, from Florence to France, until, in Au¬
gust 1799, he died at Valence, on the Rhone.
Pius VIE, whose real name was Gregorio Luigi Barnaba
Clnaramonti, was born of a noble family at Cesena in 1742
and was declared the successor of Pius VI. on the 14th
March 1800. He had not long occupied the chair of St
Peter when Napoleon set himself to turn the Popedom into
a mere tool for his own ambition. Accordingly the new
Pontiff began to be assailed with a series of the most arro-
gant exactions. In 1804 he was summoned to Paris to
ciown the Trench usurper. In the following year his port
of Ancona was furtively seized by French troops. A
command was then issued that he should shut up his domi¬
nions and close his harbours against all the enemies of
France. In vain he remonstrated, asserting that he was
the vicar of the Prince of Peace, and ought to stand aloof
from all political dissensions. The bold aggressors, without
waiting for what had been asked, gradually occupied the
seaports ; and, entering Rome in 1808, took the government
into their own hands. In vain he had recourse to his last
weapon, the bull of excommunication. The irreverent in¬
vaders entered the Quirinal Palace on the 6th July 1809,
and carried him off, first to Grenoble, and then to Savona.
Pius VII. was now more closely pressed than ever by Na¬
poleon. In 1812 he was conveyed to Fontainebleau, that
he might be awed into submission by the vicinity of the
French capital. There also every stratagem was employed
to make him subservient to the ambitious projects of the
French potentate. He was plied successively with blan¬
dishments, taunts, and menaces, until, on the 25th January
1813, he was prevailed upon to sign a concordat. Then,
when immediately afterwards he retracted his concessions,
no attention was paid to him. It w^as not until, in 1814,
the allied forces had overthrown Bonaparte, that he was re¬
stored to his place and power. The rest of the life of Pius
VII. was chiefly devoted to social and political improve¬
ments. He died from an accident in August 1823.
PiUS VIII., who was originally called Francesco Xaviero
Castighoni, w7as born near Ancona in 1761, became pope
on the death of Leo XII. in 1829, and died in 1830.
PIZZO, II, a town of Naples, in the province of Calabria
Ultra II., stands on the Gulf of St Eufemia, 6 miles N.N.E.
of Monteleone. It has a small harbour, and some coast¬
ing trade, in which, and in fishing, the inhabitants are mostly
employed. It was at Pizzo that Murat, the ex-King of
Naples, landed with a few followers, October 8, 1815, with
the view of recovering his kingdom. He was immediately
taken prisoner, and shot in the Castle of Pizzo on the 13th.
His remains lie in the middle aisle of the church, which
was erected partly by his own liberality. Pon. 5700.
PLACENTIA. See Piacenza.
P L A
P L A
Placentia, or Plasentia, a town of Spain, Estremadura,
in the province of Caceres, nearly encircled by the clear
river Xerte, in a beautiful valley between the snowy S^iras
de Bejar and de la Vera, 120 miles W.S.W. of Madrid.
The ancient walls of the town, with their strong semicir¬
cular towers, the ruined castle, the long aqueduct raised
on 80 arches, and the three picturesque bridges that cross
the river, combine with the scenery to give Placentia a
very beautiful aspect. The cathedral, built in 1498, is a
fine Gothic edifice, though some parts are unfinished, and
others have been altered for the worse. It contains several
fine pictures and monuments. There are here several other
churches, convents, a bishop’s palace, a large town-house,
several schools, and a college {seminano conciliar), con¬
nected with the university of Salamanca. Oil, soap, leather,
hats, woollen, linen, and hempen stuffs are manufactured.
Placentia was plundered by Soult in 1809, a calamity from
which it has never recovered. Pop. 6800. ?
PLAGIARY, the purloiner of another mans works.
Amongst the Romans plagiarius was properly a person
who bought, sold, or retained a freeman for a slave; and
was so called because, by the Flavian law such persons
were condemned ad plagas, or to be whipped. A plagiary,
in the modern sense of the term, is one who borrows
without acknowledgment, in literary composition, the
thoughts or words of another, and the theft is styled pla-
Symptoms
by which
the plague
is charac¬
terized.
Relations
of the con¬
stitutional
and local
symptoms.
giansm. , 7
PLAGUE. The terms pest, pestilence, and plague
were long employed in Great Britain, as weie the cone-
sponding terms in other languages, both in ancient and in
modern times, to denote simply a disease attacking a gieat
number of persons simultaneously and in succession, and
destroying a large proportion of those whom it attacked;
in short, a widely-diffused and malignant epidemic. At
the present day these terms are restricted to signify a par¬
ticular form of disease, of frequent occurrence in the coun¬
tries bordering on the eastern extremity of the Mediter¬
ranean, the Levant, and Archipelago, but occasionally ap¬
pearing also in countries more or less remote fiom these
regions.
The disease in question, the plague of the Levant, as
it is often termed, exhibits, not in every individual case,
but in a large proportion of those affected, in the progress
of its epidemic prevalence, two classes of symptoms, the
constitutional and the local. Under the constitutional
symptoms may be comprehended those indicatory of fever
of a malignant or typhoid character, with various conco¬
mitant phenomena that are in wont to attend fever of this
character in different regions of the globe ; the local consist
chiefly of glandular swellings, or buboes, as they are termed,
and of malignant or gangrenous boils, or carbuncles.
These two classes of symptoms stand variously related
to one another in different individual cases; and even,
there seems reason to believe, in different periods of the
same epidemic. Dr Patrick Russell, in his Treatise of the
Plague, in which he has given the results of his own exten¬
sive observation of this disease during its epidemic preva¬
lence in Aleppo in the years 1760, 1761, and 1762, men¬
tions one class of patients who seldom or never had buboes
or carbuncles; and another class, in a few of whom, when
the disease proved quickly fatal, these symptoms were like¬
wise absent. “ These two eruptions,” he says, “ are equally
diagnostics of the true plague ; their presence, separately
or in conjunction, leaves the nature of the distemper un¬
equivocal ; but fatal has been the error of rashly, from their
absence, pronouncing a distemper not to be the plague
which in the sequel has depopulated regions, and which
early precaution might probably have prevented from
spreading.” Dr Louis Frank also mentions, that though
the appearance of buboes is the most constant and charac¬
teristic symptom of the plague, yet he has seen
many
affected with this disease in whom buboes were altogether Plague,
wanting, or appeared only at the period of death. As cases
of this kind are particularly liable to occur at the com¬
mencement of an epidemic, a considerable number of per¬
sons may, it is obvious, come to be affected before the pes¬
tilential character of the disease is ascertained, or even
suspected, particularly in regions in which the plague is of
rare occurrence.
But as the constitutional symptoms of plague may occur
without the local, so the local may occur with little fever
or constitutional disturbance of any kind. Dr Russell,
under his fifth class of cases, to which he refers those of
slight infection, in which all the infected recovered, and
which, he says, “ was very numerous,” mentions that in
these the access was often attended with so little apparent
disorder that the eruptions gave the first alarm, “ the bu¬
boes were often the first symptom of infection; and the
fever, which came on afterwards, was frequently so slight »
as not to confine the sick to the house: others found them¬
selves indisposed for two or three days, but were not sen¬
sible of any febrile heat whatever. In these cases, and in
some others in which the fever ran somewhat higher, but
without the concurrence of alarming symptoms, “ all the
infected had buboes or carbuncles, and very often both
eruptions concurred in the same subject. Persons not
confined by indisposition were often, by the inguinal bu¬
boes, prevented from walking abroad.”
In cases of plague in which both the constitutional and
the local symptoms manifest themselves, there is consider¬
able difference in the relative time ot their appearance.
“ In a very large proportion of the sick, Dr Russell in¬
forms us, “the buboes made their appearance in the
course of the first day ; but in many instances they did not
appear before the second or third day, or even later.
In the few remarks we purpose to offer relative to the
plague, we shall consider some points of its natuial history,
as it presents itself,—!^, In the countries in which it is of
frequent occurrence ; and, 2c/, In those countiies in w'hich
it rarely shows itself. , . As occur-
I. In the countries bordering on the Levant and Archi- . Qn the
pelago the plague is liable to present itself either in single, borders of
or, as they are termed by medical men, sporadic cases; the Le-
or in a great number -of cases simultaneously or in succes- vant, &c.
sion, so as to constitute an epidemic. T
It is stated, indeed, by Dr Patrick Russell, that in the occur.
intervals between the plagues of Aleppo,”—that is to say, be- rence
tween the successive epidemic prevalences of this disease,
“ the city remains absolutely free ; and the plague is nevei
sporadicf here, except in its beginning and decline ; it never
subsists for any length of time in a few scattered cases
without consequence.” But this statement is not confoi m-
able with the reports of others. M. Pugnet, who accom¬
panied Bonaparte’s expedition to Egypt, affirms, in his
Memoire sur les Fievres du mauvais caractere du Levant,
that that country is seldom absolutely free from the plague
during several successive years, and that in almost every
month of every year there occur a number of cases, though
these are not noted when they do not occasion its epidemic
prevalence. Sir James M‘Grigor, who had the medical
charge of the army which was brought from India to Egypt
in 1801, in like manner expresses his belief that “the con¬
tagion of plague is seldom or never out of Egypt.” Dr
Murdoch Mackenzie, in his “ Letters concerning the Plague
at Constantinople,” published in the Philosophical Trans¬
actions, vol. xlvii., remarks that, during the twenty years
he had lived at Constantinople and Smyrna, there had
scarcely been a year, excepting three, in which the plague
did not threaten more or less, with little or no perceptible
difference in the character of the season to explain it.
Various estimates have been given of the frequency of
plague epidemics in the principal towns of Egypt, Syria,
PLAGUE.
Plague.
Frequency
of its epi¬
demic pre¬
valence.
Disappear
ance dur¬
ing a par¬
ticular
part of
the year.
Season at
which this
occurs.
eason of
ts re-ap-
>earance.
and Turkey. Prosper Alpinus, who resided in Egypt be¬
tween 1580 and 1584, refers to a belief of its recurring in
that country every seventh year, but represents this belief
as being incorrect. Dr Alexander Russell mentions it as
■ the common opinion of the inhabitants of Aleppo, that they
are visited with the plague about once in ten years; which
opinion, he observes, seems in some measure to be founded
on experience. Dr Mackenzie, writing from Constan¬
tinople in D63, says that “the plague is now more fre¬
quent in the Levant than it was when I first came into this
country about thirty years ago; for then they were almost
strangers to it in Aleppo and Tripoli of Syria, and they had
it but seldom at Smyrna; whereas now they have it fre-
quentJy at Aleppo, and summer and winter in Smyrna,
w nch, lie adds, “ must be owing to the great communica¬
tion by commerce all over the Levant, and more extended
into the country villages than it used to be.”
When the plague assumes an epidemic character in the
countries in which it is common, the epidemic frequently
continues for several years; not, however, uninterruptedly,
for in general it is observed that for a part of the year tlie
disease in a great measure, or altogether, disappears, break¬
ing out again after an interval of various duration. In the
same way, in non-epidemic seasons sporadic cases ofplamie
are seldom or never met with during a particular portion
of the year. It seems reasonable to conclude that this dis¬
appearance of plague, or great abatement in its prevalence,
during a particular portion of the year, must be connected
with some peculiar condition of the weather then prevail¬
ing, and consequently that the period must be liable to
variations, not only in different countries, but also to some
extent in the same country in different years.
Dr L. Frank mentions his having been assured that at
Cano the time of year in which the operation of the plague-
poison is suspended uniformly commences with the summer
solstice (21st June), as stated by Prosper Alpinus with re¬
gard both to that city and Egypt generally; but that at
Alexandria, Rosetta, and Damietta,—that is, in the towns
along the coast,—the plague terminates about the feast of
bt John (24th June), though not uniformly every year, as it
sometimes continues till about the middle of July. In re¬
spect to the period of the plague’s terminating at Cairo, Dr
P. Russell mentions that several accounts which, on makin«-
strict inquiry, he received from persons long resident in that
city, Emopeans as well as natives, all concurred in the fact
of the plague’s declining rapidly in June, but not ceasing
entirely and he particularly refers to information which he
had received of the Europeans having remained, in 1759,
shut up till the middle of July, “which was considered as
very extraordinary.” Dr Russell also remarks, that in most
places in the Levant a popular tradition is to be found of
the extinction of the plague at a certain fixed period, which
varies, however, at different places. At Aleppo, he adds,
it is fixed nearly a month later than at Cairo. His brother,
Dr A. Russell, states that at Aleppo the plague comes to
its height in June, decreases greatly in July, and certainly
disappears in August. Dr P. Russell, in reference to the
same epidemic, says,—“ I he natives all agreed in declaring
the plague had never before been so formidable in the win¬
ter ; and many went so far as to affirm that it was the first
instance of the plague’s having been ever known at all at
that season. In 1753 it began the last day of May, and
continued uninterruptedly till the middle of September 1754.
Admitting that, in general, though certainly not univer-
sally, plague disappears in Egypt soon after the 21st of
« une, in Syria about a month later, and probably at a still
more advanced period of the year in Asia Minor and Tur-
key, ^ there any constancy in regard of its re-appearance ?
Mr J. M Crigor mentions that the month of November, or
more usually of December, is the time of year in which
the plague is wont to re-appear in Egypt, and that, ac¬
cording to the observation of the natives, when it breaks
out before December, they have always a generally pre¬
vailing and very destructive disease. According to Pumiet
there are three periods in the prevalence of the plague in
lts invasion, which occupies the months of De-
cember, January, and February; its acme, which occupies
ai ch, April, and May; and its extinction, which occurs
suddenly during the second half of June. Frank says that,
according to the general accounts, the plague seldom
occurs in Egypt in the months of September, October
November, December, and January, but usually appears
m the months of February, March, and April; and he
adds, conformably with Sir J. M‘Grigor’s statement, that
it is well ascertained, that when it begins in September
or October, it is more terrible than if it appears later, be¬
cause it then continues for a longer time, and is the cause
of greater mortality. Perhaps, also, the pestilential miasma
becomes more deadly.” At Aleppo, according to Dr A.
Russell, the plague is constantly moderated during the
winter, and grows more violent as the spring advances.
Mr Hayes mentions the months of March and April as the
period at which the plague usually begins at Smyrna. Ti-
mone states, in regard to the plague at Constantinople, that it
is pretty soundly lulled by the cold of winter, emitting, how-
ver, here and there sparks during that season as well as in
spring; it increases in summer, and rages with the greatest
violence in August. The spread of the infection is not
stopped by the coldish north winds blowing at stated times of
the summer; but if the south winds blow during that season,
constantly and of sufficient warmth, they suppress the plague.
We shall presently have occasion to see the application
of these facts relative to the periods at which the plague
subsides and revives in Egypt, Syria and Turkey, to die
explanations that have been proposed of the causes or
agencies by which this disease is produced.
Great difference of opinion has subsisted as to the na- waf„r» na¬
ture of the agent which, by its operation on the animal the aoent
economy, produces this form of disease ; whether the plague by which
is generated by a particular state of the atmosphere, itself^ Pro"
the result of the reciprocal action of various concurrentduced-
agents, and vyhich is sufficient to produce the disease in a
laige proportion of those who are exposed to its influence,
as is the case in respect of ague or intermittent fever ; or
whether the disease is communicated from person to per¬
son through the medium of some impalpable effluvium from
the body, as in the cases of measles and scarlet fever ?
Whether, in the language of medical men, the plague de¬
pends on teiiestrial or aftnospheric miasm, improperly
named infection by some, or upon human contagion.
The laws of quarantine, so far as they refer to the mu
plague, obviously proceed on the supposition that this dis- rantilT*
ease is capable of being communicated by person to per- laws,
and also that the plague-poison is capable of being
imbibed by substances that have come in contact with
the bodies of those affected, or that have been exposed
to the air which they breathe; of remaining attached to
such substances for a considerable space of time, when
excluded from free ventilation ; of mixing with the at¬
mosphere when exposed to it, and infecting those who
breathe it; or of communicating the disease to persons
who touch or handle the articles to which it is attached.
The inconvenience with which the enforcement of the
quarantine laws is necessarily attended, particularly to
those engaged in commerce, has naturally rendered many
anxious for their repeal or modification. The grounds
upon which those who have represented them as unneces¬
sary have rested their case may be referred to the two
following,— 1st, That the plague always depends on miasm,
and consequently, where the circumstances necessary for
the production of plague-miasm concur, the disease will
happen in spite of all quarantine regulations; and 2d, That
750
PLAGUE.
Plague.
Depend¬
ence on
contagion
satisfacto¬
rily esta¬
blished.
Whether
also de¬
pendent on
terrestrial
miasma.
Depend¬
ence on
atmosphe¬
ric condi¬
tions ;
Supposing the disease to be contagious, there are climates
in which its contagion cannot be received and propagated,
and consequently, as regards these, quarantine laws must
ie superfluous.
The evidence in favour of the contagious character of
the plague in Egypt, Syria, Turkey, &c., and of its dis¬
semination both by person and by fomites, as deduced from
the places and individuals that escape, as well as from the
places and individuals that become affected, is so ample
and complete as to leave room for doubt only in minds pre¬
occupied with theoretical dogmata or considerations of
personal advantage. Accordingly, the opinion adverse to
the contagious character of plague in these countries seems
to be now very generally abandoned by those who can be
regarded as impartial and competent judges of the fact.
When a select committee was appointed by the House of
Commons in 1819 to consider the validity of the doctrine
of contagion in the plague, all the medical men examined,
with the exception of two, were in favour of the received
doctrine, that the plague is a disease communicable by
contagion. One of these anti-contagionists in plague was
Dr Charles Maclean, the other Dr Mitchell. Of the me¬
dical officers of the French and English armies in Egypt be¬
tween 1799 and 1802, who have published an account of the
diseases which presented themselves to their observation dur¬
ing that campaign, Assalini seems to have been the only one
who came to the conclusion that the plague is not a truly con¬
tagious disease, and that it is produced solely by local causes.
By some, however, it has been supposed that both ter¬
restrial miasm and human contagion are concerned in
spreading the plague, the disease being first generated by
miasm, but subsequently diffusing itself by contagion, both
in the districts in which the miasm is produced, and in
countries to which it does not extend, and in which it can¬
not be supposed to be generated. Amongst those holding
this doctrine there has been a difference of opinion as to
the number of districts in which the supposed plague-miasm
may be produced. Some conceive that there is one parti¬
cular portion of the globe only in which the circumstances
essential for the development of plague-miasm occur in
combination,—an opinion readily adopted by the different
nations and provinces among whom the disease frequently
prevails, though they differ very much as to the parent soil,
each being desirous to transfer that odium from itself to its
neighbour. M. Fodere, who, though he had never person¬
ally seen the plague, had bestowed much pains in studying
its history, maintains that the plague is a production of the
soil of Lower Egypt alone,—that is to say, of the combina¬
tion of the waters of the Nile, and of the materials brought
down by that river, with the vegetable earth of the delta,
when, after the inundation, the heat causes these waters to
be volatilized, and gives rise to the production of an immense
multitude of insects and of reptiles. When the disease
has once been produced in the human body by this miasm,
he has no doubt as to its being capable of being communi¬
cated from person to person. He holds, therefore, that in
Lower Egypt the plague is both an endemic and a con¬
tagious disease; whilst, when it occurs in Upper Egypt, in
Svria, and the other countries of 1 urkey, and in Europe,
it is simply a contagious disease, being transported to them
from Lower Egypt. .
Others, again, are of opinion, that in Egypt, as else¬
where, the plague always requires a human effluvium for
its production and communication ; but that the propaga¬
tion of this contagious effluvium is greatly influenced by,
if not dependent upon, particular conditions of the atmo¬
sphere. This unknown condition of the atmospheie is
supposed either to cause the effluvia of non-pestilential
diseases to assume a pestilential character, or the plague-
effluvium to be generated of a peculiarly virulent charac¬
ter, or to render the human body more susceptible of its
action. The influence of the atmosphere in promoting Plague,
and in checking plague seems sufficiently established by
the circumstances already stated relative to the variations
in its prevalence in the different seasons of the year ; but
in what manner or by what qualities the atmosphere exerts
this influence, is a matter of the greatest uncertainty.
Some authors have been of opinion that it is simply on tempe-
the temperature of the atmosphere which determines therature;
prevalence of plague in the countries along the shores
of the Mediterranean ; that the atmosphere may be either
too hot or too cold for its propagation. Thus Dr A.
Russell mentions that the season wherein the plague al¬
ways ceases at Aleppo is that in which the heats are the
most excessive. “ Extreme heat,” he says, “ seems to
check the progress of the disease ; for though, during the
few first hot days, the mortality, as well as the number of
those newly infected, increase, yet a few days’ longer con¬
tinuance of that weather greatly diminishes the number of *
the sick.” Mr Dawes, in mentioning August and Sep¬
tember as the months in which the plague usually, though
not constantly, ceases at Aleppo, notices them as being
the hottest months in the year. Conformably with the
same view, the occurrence of the hot winds is conceived
by some to be the agent which puts a stop to the pre¬
valence of the plague in Egypt. From the statements of
Timone, and of several other authors, as we have already
seen, it appears that, at Constantinople, the cold of winter
generally exercises a great influence in suppressing or di¬
minishing the extension of this disease. Dr James Frank,
who was upon the expedition with Sir Ralph Abercromby
in the year 1800, and had the first establishment of the
Plague Hospital at Abonkir, says, in his evidence before
the committee of the House of Commons in 1819,—“ The
great cold of Constantinople puts an end to it, and the
great heat of Cairo puts an end to it.” And to the same
effect, Mr Edward Hayes, a native of Smyrna, and who
had resided there nearly forty-four years, on being asked
by the committee, “ When does the plague generally sub¬
side in your country ?” replied, “When the great cold or
the great heat destroys it.”
M. Pugnet, again, affirms that the prevalence of the on heat
plague in Egypt is always proportional to the moisture ofandmois-
the atmosphere taken in connection with its heat, whether .“P*
the moisture shall depend on a greater than usual inunda¬
tion of the Nile, or on the fall of rain ; and explains by these
different sources of moisture the plague making its ap¬
pearance in different districts of Egypt in different years.
The circumstance of the heat bearing either a very great
or a very small proportion to the moisture of the atmo¬
sphere is, according to Pugnet, unfavourable to the ex¬
tension of plague ; but at the same time he holds that,
besides moisture and heat, the germ of the disease, as he
terms the contagious principle, is requisite for its deve¬
lopment. In noticing that most of those who have travelled
in Egypt say the plague is brought there from Greece, and
those who have travelled in Greece pretend that that coun¬
try only receives it from Egypt, M. Pugnet remarks,
“ I think that the defenders of Egypt and those of Greece
are equally in the right; the plague comes no less from
Egypt than from Greece, or from Greece than from Egypt.
It has established itself a durable focus iu these two oppo¬
site points; and when one of them seems to become ex¬
tinguished, the other revives it.”
Dr L. Frank, who, after sojourning with the French army Supposed
in Egypt, subsequently resided for a year in Tunis, and tra-connection
veiled for six years over the continent of Greece, princi- with * ^
pally for the purpose of investigating everything connected the
with the plague, is adverse to the idea of the production ^ile>
of the pestilential poison being in any way connected
with the overflowing of the Nile. The Nile begins to de¬
crease in September, and in December all the waters dis-
PLAGUE.
Plague, appear from the inundated surface. Consequently, he
argues, if the putrefaction of stagnant waters could produce
the plague, this disease should manifest itself chiefly in
the months of October, November, and December, whilst,
in fact, it very rarely occurs in these months. Frank con¬
ceives, with Alpinus, that it is in the character of the winds
that the cause of the prevalence or cessation of the plague
in Egypt is to be looked for; the unhealthy season corre¬
sponding with the part of the year during which the winds
and weather are variable, and the healthy season with the
period during which the north wind blows steadily,—that is,
from J une to September.
Those who, in admitting the contagious character of the
plague, have argued in favour of the possibility of its poi¬
son being engendered independently of human effluvia,
751
Depend¬
ence on
the pre¬
vailing
winds.
Supposr
tion of
plague-
injrrepro- an<^ s‘mP^y fr°ra the reciprocal action of the atmosphere
duced from antl the earth upon one another, seem to have been led to
time to
time.
^ircum-
dances di¬
minishing
he proba-
nlity of in'
ection.
this view by their believing that the plague-poison is wholly
extinguished during a certain portion of the year, and con¬
sequently, that for the reproduction of the disease there
must be a reproduction, or generatio de novo, as medical
men term it, of the poison.
When, by the return of the period of the year which is
unfavourable to its dissemination, the plague ceases, one
of two things may happen: it may remain absent from
the country or district for a succession of years, or it may
recur with the period of the year which is compatible with
its propagation. Now it does not appear to be necessary,
in either of these cases, to admit the supposition of a fresh
generation of pestilential poison from terrestrial miasmata.
In the case of the shorter interval, the epidemic may have
slumbered, but not died ; in short, there may have oc¬
curred sporadic cases of the disease in sufficient number to
maintain the stock. When, again, a more considerable in¬
terval elapses between the cessation of the plague and its
re-appearance at a particular place, a iresh importation may
have taken place from regions in which it has been prevail¬
ing epidemically during its absence from the country under
observation.
Besides being maintained by sporadic cases during the
non-epidemic season of the year, the contagion of the plague
may also be maintained in the form of fomites ; that is,
attached to substances that have been in contact with the
bodies of patients, or exposed to the air which they breathe.
Dr Russell mentions that at Aleppo, in 1762, several in¬
stances occurred of the revival of plague in houses which
had suffered the year before, attended with circumstances
highly suspicious of the contagion having been preserved
several months for want of cleansing. It has very gene¬
rally been believed, also, that by fomites the contagion of
plague may be carried to regions very remote from that
in which these substances acquired it. When the articles
to which the pestiferous poison has attached itself are
freely exposed to ventilation, it does not seem to be re¬
tained for any considerable length of time; but when, on
the contrary, they are excluded from open communication
with the air, there is good ground for suspecting that the
poison may remain attached to them for a long space of
time. Indeed we are not acquainted with any natural
limit to its continuance besides that of the free exposure
of the fomites to the air.
In considering the plague to be capable, at least during
a certain portion of the year, of being diffused by conta¬
gion, it is not necessarily inferred that all persons who
approach within a given distance of a person labouring
under the disease must become affected with it. There
seem to be a variety of circumstances that diminish the
probability of infection, with some of which we are more
or less acquainted, whilst of others we are entirely igno¬
rant.
D*, It has been supposed that exposure during one pe¬
riod of the epidemic is attended with less risk of infection Plague,
than exposure during another. 2d, That exposure to a
mild case of plague is attended with less risk of infection
than exposure to one of a very malignant character. Zd
That a person who is exposed to plague-contagion by de¬
grees runs less risk of infection than one who is suddenly
brought within the sphere of its operation. 4th, That per¬
sons possessing equanimity of mind, of temperate habits,
&c., run less risk than those who are in opposite circum¬
stances.
Individual peculiarities in respect of the susceptibility
or non-susceptibility of plague-contagion are very singular
and unaccountable, but not more so than are observed in
respect of other contagious diseases. A person whose ex¬
posure to the affected has been slight and of short continu¬
ance may be seized with the disease; whilst another who
has undergone a very great degree of exposure remains
free. And a person who has remained free during close
and long-continued exposure, may ultimately become
affected, without any change of circumstances, extrinsic or
intrinsic, which it is possible to detect.
Dr L. Frank conceives that the proportion of persons
who pass their life in Egypt without experiencing an at¬
tack of plague is greater than the proportion of persons
who never experience an attack of small-pox, which he
reckons as scarcely one in ten thousand.
It has been much disputed whether having once passed Possibility
through plague renders a person unsusceptible of re-in- of recur-
fection ; and if it does not afford absolute security against rence in
more than one attack, in what proportion of cases a second
or more frequent recurrence takes place. Some authors111 mdua1,
have denied the reality, if not the possibility, of a second
attack of plague ; others have related, as very singular
events, single cases which had been noticed in particular
epidemics ; whilst others, again, represent such occurrences
as by no means rare. Dr Mackenzie mentions his having
been assured by the Greek padre who took care of the
Greek hospital at Smyrna for fifty years that he had had
the plague twelve different times during that period ; and
it is very certain, adds Dr Mackenzie, that he died of it in
1736. The abbe who took care of the Frank Hospital at
Pera assured Dr M. that he had had the disease at Con¬
stantinople and at Smyrna four different times.
In various respects it is extremely desirable to know Latent pe-
what length of time may elapse between a person’s expo- riod of in¬
sure to plague-poison and the appearance of the disease. Action.
On the decision of this question it is obvious that dura¬
tion of personal quarantine should be founded. Dr P.
Russell mentions that at Aleppo he met with no instance
of the disease appearing later than the ninth or tenth day
after the day of shutting up, in those who adopted that pre¬
caution. Sir J. M'Grigor, in noticing that in different
people, and under different circumstances, there is the
greatest variety in respect of the time the matter of the
pestilential contagion takes before it comes into action,
mentions one case in which ten days seemed to be the
shortest period that could possibly have intervened ; and
another in which a person continued well till the seven¬
teenth day after being placed in quarantine.
II. The few remarks which we have room to offer rela- In other
tive to the plague as occurring occasionally in other re- countries
gions than those bordering on the Levant and Archipelago,than those
must bear reference chiefly to the question whether, ad- of the Le*
mitting the plague to be a contagious disease in the conn- Vant‘
tries we have hitherto alluded to, there is any reason to ap¬
prehend the possibility of its being introduced into the British Possibility
Isles ; or whether the quarantine laws as regards the plague of plague
might be safely abolished. To justify such a measure” it occurring
would, it appears to us, be necessary to establish the cor- in the Bri*
rectness of one or other of the following propositionstish Isle8'
1^, That it is impossible, in the nature of things, that
752
P L A
Plague, the plague should exist in the British Isles, and that, in
point oi’fact, it never existed in them ; 2d, That if it ever
existed in these islands, it was indigenous, not imported,
and consequently could not have been prevented by
quarantine laws ; or, ‘3d, That if it ever was imported
into these islands, it was under circumstances which cannot
recur.
1^, Our opinion as to whether a particular disease can
occur in any country may rest upon two grounds ; the
first, our belief as to the conditions on which its prevalence
in the countries it is known to infest may depend; and
the second, our knowledge as to whether it has ever pre¬
vailed in the country in former times. These two con¬
siderations may reflect mutual light on each other. If we
are very certain as to the conditions requisite for the exist¬
ence of the particular disease, and are told that it has oc¬
curred in a country which we know not to fulfil these, we
will disbelieve the correctness of the statement. And, con¬
versely, if we are perfectly satisfied that the disease has
prevailed in a country which does not fulfil the condi¬
tions we are disposed to consider requisite for its exist¬
ence, our opinion as to these conditions must be modified.
In respect of the plague, it is plain, from the discrepancies
which we have seen to prevail in the explanations given
of the causes by which it is produced and propagated in
Egypt, &c., that the reality of its existence is exposed to
much less dubiety than the explanation of the conditions
on which that existence depends.
The fact already mentioned, of the very wide significa¬
tion that used to be attached to the term plague or pest,
renders it necessary indeed that, in judging whether a par¬
ticular epidemic was really plague or not, we should not
trust to the mere name which it received, but inquire into
the symptoms which it actually exhibited. But, with symp¬
toms so very characteristic as those that attend true plague,
or rather, as we have already said, a large proportion of the
cases that occur in the course of a plague-epidemic, a very
slight description of & pestilence must suffice for determining
as to its identity with genuine plague. Accordingly, we
have experienced considerable surprise, in looking over the
evidence taken by the committee of the House of Com¬
mons in 1819, at the number of witnesses who either posi¬
tively denied that the so-called plague in London of 1665
(to omit previous epidemics to which that title w'as applied)
was really that disease, or expressed much doubt on the
subject. If the general statement of Sydenham to that
effect left any room for doubt on this head, the minute de¬
scription of Dr Hodges, and particularly that portion of it
that relates to the more peculiar symptoms, including
buboes, carbuncles, &c., is more than sufficient, we should
have thought, to remove all doubt from the minds of the
most sceptical.
Whether 2c7, As to the plague of 1665 having been indigenous,
indigenous and not imported, wre have a very explicit statement of
or im- Dr Hodges as to its having been brought from I urkey to
ported. Holland, and from Holland to England. Attempts have
indeed been made to point out discrepancies in his expla¬
nation of its first appearance and propagation in England :
but to us the objections appear inconclusive, and the de¬
ficiencies in the chain of proofs such as might occur in
tracing the diffusion of a disease universally recognised as
contamous. The non-recurrence of the plague in this
country since that period is certainly not more easy to
explain on the supposition of the epidemic in question
having been indigenous, than on that of its having been
imported.
3d, The circumstances favourable to the reception and
dissemination of plague-contagion, which may be supposed
to have existed in 1665, but to be now extinct and inca¬
pable of recurring, may be of different kinds. 1 he bene¬
ficial change may be in the character of the climate, in the
P L A
condition of the soil, or in the habits of the people. But Plan
if our immunity has depended on a change in the climate, II
who can be responsible for the continuance of this change ? v F iin^‘ y
What the climate has been, it may, for anything we know,
become again. And as to any immunity that could be
supposed to result from a change in the habits of society,
and particularly from the superior attention paid to cleanli¬
ness and ventilation in our cities, from the introduction of
public sewers, &c., to which much importance has been
attached, we must confess our apprehensions that any seeds
of disease which depend for their development upon filth
will not perish for want of a hotbed in many districts of the
larger cities of the three kingdoms.
When a person who has been exposed to the contagion Tfr®^nient
of plague begins to feel unwell, it is proper to removejA ”
from his stomach all undigested matter by means of an'1 h
emetic, taking care that it do not produce excessive nau¬
sea after the evacuation ; and this, if it happens, is to be
allayed by administering effervescing draughts, or a small
quantity of laudanum. It will be proper also to empty the
bowels by some mild but effectual purgative, avoiding diar¬
rhoea. A gentle perspiration has appeared in some cases
to carry off the disease; and we may attempt this by anti-
monial medicines, or the diluted acetate of ammonia. The
mineral and vegetable acids will also be found useful; dimi¬
nishing the heat of the body by prudent sponging with
vinegar and water; giving medicines to allay irritation and
procure sleep, as camphor and opium ; frequently changing
the bed and body linen of the patient, and quickly removing
all offensive matters from his apartment.
The great means of spreading the plague is by contact ^fr®J®ntlon
with infected persons, or the contact of substances to plag^e<
which the pestilential infection adheres, as clothes, cotton, °
furniture, papers, and the like. When the plague has
broken out in a place, every effort must be made, by
means of lazarettoes or plague-hospitals, to separate com¬
pletely between the sick and the healthy. Great atten¬
tion should be paid to ventilation, and the sound should
on such occasions keep to windward of the sick. Any¬
thing worn about the person, if it gives confidence to
the individual, will be of service in enabling him to resist
contagion ; hence camphor, vinegar, or any aromatic, may
sometimes act as a preventive. Friction of the body with
oil has obtained the reputation of a positive antidote; and
whatever may be its ultimate virtue, it certainly should not
be neglected. (J- T
PLAN, in general, denotes the representation of some
object drawn upon a plane, such as maps, charts, ichnogra-
phies, and the like. The term plan, however, is particularly
used for a draught of a building, such as it appears, or is
intended to appear, on the ground, showing the extent, di¬
vision, and distribution of its area or ground-plot into apart¬
ments, rooms, passages, &c. A geometrical plan is that in
which the solid and vacant parts are represented in their
natural proportions. The raised plan ot a building is the
same with what is otherwise called an elevation or ortho¬
graphy. A perspective plan is that exhibited by degrada¬
tions or diminutions, according to the rules of perspective.
PLANE, in Geometry, denotes a plain surface, or one
that lies evenly between its bounding lines; and as a right
line is the shortest extension from one point to another, so
a plane surface is the shortest extension from one line to
another. In astronomy, conic sections, &c., the term plane
is frequently used for an imaginary surface, supposed to cut
and pass through solid bodies; and on this foundation is
built the whole doctrine of conic sections. In mechanics,
planes are either horizontal,—that is, parallel to the horizon,
—or inclined to it. In optics the planes of reflection
and refraction are those drawn through the incident and
reflected or refracted rays. In perspective we meet with
the perspective plane, which is supposed to be pellucid,
P L A
Planet
and perpendicular to the horizon; the horizontal plane,
Planetary t0 fT throu«h the spectator’s eye, parallel to the
Machines. 101!Z0n 5. and the geometrical plane, likewise parallel to the
 ' nK20"]’ ln whlchthe object to be represented is supposed
to be placed. The plane of projection in the stereographic
pi ejection of the sphere, is that on which the projection is
Pi’ “'Lesponaing to the perspective plane.
rLAlSET (TrXavrjrrjs, a wanderer), a celestial body re¬
volving round the sun as a centre
PLANETARY MACHINES. The establishment of
mechanical and physmal science on an experimental basis,
in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, is an event or
rather a series of events, for which the world cannot be suffi-
ciently grateful. I he splendid discoveries which were from
une to time announced, and the various machines constructed
lor their illustration, directed men’s minds strongly to me¬
chanical pursuits. The results were of great value to civi-
Jization ; and even when the objects sought for were frivo¬
lous, they were not altogether useless, as in the construction
ot clocks which m addition to their ordinary duties, were
made to undertake many wonderful and unnecessary things •
automata of various kinds, which accomplished objects
equally wonderful and unnecessary; and planetary machines
tor representing the motions of the heavenly bodies The
value of these things consisted in gratifying the public taste
toi ingenious toys, in fostering mechanical skill, and in sup-
p ymg clever combinations, which have subsequently been
leproduced in really useful automatic machines.
I he term orrery is sometimes applied to planetary ma¬
chines, and the origin of this word is stated by Desaguliers
o ave arisen from the following circumstances About
the ) ear 1700 Graham contrived a movement for exhibit¬
ing the motion of the earth about the sun, together with
the moon revolving about the earth. This machine was
sen to an instrument-maker’s, for the purpose of beino-
packed up with some other instruments about to be for-
vvarded to Prince Eugene; but the maker having copied
i , sold his copy to the Earl of Orrery, who it appears
showed it to Steele, and he, referring to it in one of his
lucubrations, called it an orrery,—* name which was at
once adopted, and has since been retained.
Graham’s machine however, was by no means the first
o its kind. The Chinese are said to have constructed
planetary machines 2000 years before the Christian era.
Archimedes and Posidonius also constructed them; and
Cicero makes use of both machines in his argument on de-
y in creation. (De Nat. Deor., lib. ii., cap. 34 and 35.)
uring many centuries, planetary machines consisted of
moveable spheres, with the earth in the centre,-a construc¬
tion which continued in use until about fifteen years after
the death of Copernicus, when the last celebrated example
o a machine illustrative of that system was placed in the
library of the Pantheon at Paris. Huyghens and Romer
also constructed machines for illustrating the Copernican
system.. Huyghens first introduced a systematic method of
calculating the necessary wheel-work for the machine which
named the automaton. r[ his Jong continued to be a
pattern in the construction of orreries ; as was also Romer’s
instrument, intended chiefly to exhibit the orbital motions
ot the planets. Rbmer also invented a machine for repre¬
senting the motions of Jupiter’s satellites about their pri-
fa7’^Sether with the motions of the latter about the sun.
In 1579 he presented a machine of this kind to the English
astronomer Flamsteed. Among other great names which
have been concerned in the construction of planetary ma¬
chines, must be mentioned those of Dr Thomas Young and
the Rev. W Pearson who furnished the plan for the pla¬
netarium of the Royal Institution of London.
i Planetfry machines have been variously named according
to the objects intended to be attained by them. Thus we
have the planetarium, which represents the orbital motions
\ OL. XVII,
P L A
753
of the planets about the sun ; the tellurium and the luna Plan!
earth5 and that'of ^ ™on ^ut Z spte
earth, and that of the earth about the sun, together with the I!
pi incipal phenomena which accompany the changes in their Plantage'
relative positions,-such as the succession of da/and n^ht ,
and the variable ength of both according to the season of
he year the eclipses of the sun and moon ; variafions in
the moon s latitude velocity, and distance from the earth •
e progressive motion of her apogee, and the retJrada-
rion of her nodes, &c The satellite machine by R6mer
already referred to, is the last of the four planetary machines
to uhich distinct names have been given corresponding to
tl e phenomena they are intended to exhibit; but thevVe
all generally included under the term orrery Y
I he most important part of an orrery is the mechanism
°£nthf Planetanuni’ f°r exhibiting the paths of the planets
about the sun, and their relative periodic times together
with the motions of the satellites about their primaries
I he former object is usually attained by means ofPa system
of upright concentric tubes of different lengths, the inner¬
most being the longest; to the upper extremity of each is
attached a radius vector, which revolves once during each
he X" f 6 tUbe; the Wr ends of tlle ^bef form
the arbois of as many toothed wheels, which are driven
either by pinions adjusted to a vertical axle called the
« * W arbor or they are moved by those pinions through
f I1; !friVent,°n ,0f " ^ ?f Wheels- The calculationTf
the relative number of teeth to be given to the wheels and
pinions, in order to produce the required motions, belongs
to that pai t of mechanics which treats of wheel-work
It is not necessary to dwell at greater length on the
constructum of a machine which is at best a clumsy, use-
ess, and expensive toy. As science advances, the instru¬
ments of research become more and more perfect • and
although, as the great German chemist expresses it ’ it is
not the instrument that does the work, but the mind of the
inventor {Das Instrument macht ja das Werk nicht son-
dem der menschliche Geist), still the instruments of the
day will fairly represent the science of the day, and in this
science the planetary machine has no place. That this
machine never did, and never can, represent the truth as it
is n nature wdl be evident from the following computation,
which we borrow from a great living astronomer
Choose any well levelled field or bowling-green. On it
^globe tvvo feet ^ diameter; this will represent the
sun Mercury will be represented by a grain of mustard-
seed, on the circumference of a circle 164 feet in diameter
tor its orbit; Venus, a pea, on a circle 284 feet in diameter;
the earth also a pea, on a circle of 430 feet; Mars, a rather
aige pins head, on a circle of 654 feet; Juno, Ceres,
i9mVnd PTallas’ Srains of sand, in orbits of from 1000 to
nf lie Jupiter> a moderate-sized orange, in a circle
neariy half a mile across; Saturn, a small orange, on a
circle of four-fifths of a mile; and Uranus, a full-sized
c ieriy or small plum, upon the circumference of a circle
more than a mile and a half in diameter. As to getting
correct notions on this subject by drawing cirdes on
paper, or, still worse, from those very childish toys called
orreries, it is out of the question.” (Herschel’s Astronomy,
PLANISPHERE signifies a projection of the^sphere
and its various circles upon a plane.
PLANT. See Botany.
PL ANTAGENET, the surname of the kings of Eno--
land from Henry II. to Richard HI. inclusive. Fulk the
first Earl of Anjou, stung with remorse for some wicked
action went, as a work of atonement, in pilgrimage to
Jerusalem where, being soundly scourged with broom
twigs which grew plentifully on the spot, he afterwards
oo c le surname of Plantagenet, which was retained by
his posterity. J
5 c
754
PLANTING.
Planting. Planting, or the culture of trees, is a branch of agncul-
ture necessarily of much more recent date than ext
culture Of grain and herbage plants, or the breeding and
rearing of battle. The culture of those plants which in
every country supply the food of mankind, wlmto teet-
lv, or by nourishing the domestic animals used for 1 Y
man, must have exclusively occupied Ins attention 0 J
acres • whilst the timber which was employed in houses,
Tps and machines, or for fuel, was found in the native
woods. Hence, though we hear of the -utare °f frud-
trees, and occasionally also of ornamental trees and sh,
amongst the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, t
tion of timber-trees on a large scale by art only took place
in modern times. In the days of Charlemagne, the greater
part of France and Germany was covered with immense
forests; and one of the benefits conferred on France by
that prince, was the rooting up of portions of these forests
here and there throughout the country, and ^bstitutmg
their room orchards or vineyards. Artificial plantation^
appear to have been formed in Germany sooner than in
any other country, and apparently as early as the fifteenth
century. In Britain they took place, though but sparing
lv, nearly a century afterwards. Planting, however, was
by no means general in England till the beginning of the
seventeenth century, when, in consequence of the exten¬
sive transfers of property which took place m the P^e
ing century, on the seizure of the church-lands by Hen y
VIII., much timber was sold by the new owners, in order
to make good their payments. The quantity of timber thus
thrown into the market lowered its price considerably, in¬
somuch, as Hollingshed informs us, that the builders ot cot-
tao-es, who had formerly employed willow, and other cheap
and common woods, now built them of as good oak as
their lords. The demand for timber thus constantly in¬
creasing, and a demand for an extended surface of farming
land going on at the same time, the natural forests became
everywhere greatly circumscribed, till at last timber for
naval purposes and house-building began to be imported,
and the proprietors of land to think, first of protecting their
native woods from the inroads of cattle ; afterwards of en¬
closing pieces of waste ground, and allowing them to be¬
come covered with young trees from seeds carried thither by
the wind or other accidental circumstances ; and ultimate¬
ly of sowing acorns and mast in such enclosures, or of fill¬
ing them with young plants collected in the woods; a prac¬
tice which exists in Sussex, and some other parts of Eng¬
land, even at the present day. Planting received a great
stimulus in Britain soon after the breaking out of the late
general war, partly in consequence of a real or supposed
scarcity of timber fit for naval purposes, and partly owing
to the high price to which the article for general use rose,
in consequence of the increased expense of obtaining sup¬
plies from other countries. Since the peace, the rage for
planting, with a view to profit, has subsided ; but there is
still a universal taste for cultivating trees and shrubs, with
a combined view to ornament and use ; and there is also an
increased and increasing taste for the introduction of trees
and shrubs from foreign countries.
Having in this slight manner noticed the origin of plant¬
ing, we shall next give a brief outline of its present prac¬
tice in Britain ; noticing in succession: 1. A general view
of the different properties possessed by trees; 2. selec¬
tions suitable for different purposes ; 3. the nursery culture
of trees; and, 4. the culture of trees in plantations.
It is necessary to premise, that in this article we confine
ourselves entirely to trees which are well known in Britain,
and quite hardy ; and to the formation of such plantations   ^
as are made with a view to their timber-produce. I -
trees and fruit-shrubs, flowering shrubs of every kind, and
ornamental plantations, we consider as belonging to gar¬
dening, and as already disposed of under the article Ho
ticultuue.
I. General View of the different Properties possessed by
Trees which may be cultivated in Britain.
The sort of trees which it is desirable to plant, is neces¬
sarily the first point which a proprietor will take into con¬
sideration before he commences a plantation, frees dit-
fer from one another in many particulars: in magnitude ;
in slowness or rapidity of growth ; in their suitableness tor
poor soils or rich soils, moist grounds or dry grounds, ele¬
vated exposed situations, or low and sheltered plains; m
the texture, colour, and durability of their timber ; in their
delicacy or hardiness in any given climate ; m their being
difficult or easy to propagate and rear ; in retaining their
leaves all the year, or dropping them every autumn ; m
producing showy flowers or fruits ; and in a great variety
of other particulars. In regard to magnitude, those trees
which, in the latitude of Britain, and in the same parallels
of latitude throughout the northern hemisphere, attain the
greatest height, are the spruce and silver fir, the larch, and
the Scotch pine; and these also are the trees which m
most parts of Britain, produce the greatest quantity of tim¬
ber in their trunks relatively to that contained in their
branches, and that in the shortest time. The poplar, the
willow, and some species of elm, are rapid-growing trees,
and produce a great bulk of head in a short period; but
the timber of these trees is not all contained in one straight
trunk, as in the case of the pines and firs, a considerable
portion of it being distributed among the branches. Hence,
where the speedy production of timber is the mam object
of planting, the pines and firs above mentioned are de¬
cidedly the trees that ought to be preferred. The produc¬
tion of timber, however, is not always the sole object o
planting. Effect, or, in other words, the production of the
appearance of woodiness on an estate, is perhaps oftener
the object than mere timber. For this purpose the Scotcn
and English elms, the white, black, and black Italian pop¬
lars, the Huntingdon willow, and in some situations the
birch, and in others, such as on the sea-shore, the syca¬
more, are the most desirable trees. Where the object is to
clothe a sterile surface of dry sand, the birch and the Scotch
pine are among the best trees that we have; and if the situa¬
tion be exposed to the sea-breeze, the common and the i\or-
way maple may be substituted for the birch and the pine ;
and, in the warmer parts of the island the evergreen oak
For moist soils which cannot be drained, there are trees that
have the remarkable property of sending their horizontal
roots along the surface of the ground; among these are the
white, the trembling, and the Ontario poplars ; and, for the
marshes of the warmer parts of the island, the deciduous
cypress. There are trees which will grow near water, in
situations where their roots can enter into it, but which wn
not grow in undrained soil, such as the different species o
willow, and most of the poplars. It is a remarkable fact,
that there is no tree in any part of the world which is truly
aquatic ; that is, which will spring up from the bottom of a
pond or river. Had there been such trees created, there
could then have been neither rivers nor lakes, and the whole
of the terrestrial globe must necessarily have been either in
a state of marsh or mountain.
PLANTING.
^Planting.^ In general it may be observed, that trees are not so ab-
v solute in their choice of soils as for each species to require
one of a different nature ; on the contrary, on almost any
kind of soil not beyond the average in point of moisture,
dryness, or tenacity, all the known species of trees and
shrubs may be grown to a tolerably mature size and age.
In some soils, however, they will thrive better than in others ;
and the timber produced generally varies in quality accord¬
ing to the soil. Thus a rich soil, while it contributes to the
rapid growth of the pine and fir tribe, renders their timber
less durable; and the same law holds good, more or less,
with regard to every other species of tree.
The influence of climate on trees is incomparably greater
than that of soil; for, whilst any tree may be said to grow on
any soil, every tree may be said to have its particular cli¬
mate ; that is, a climate in which, the soil and other cir¬
cumstances being suitable, it will attain its greatest bulk,
and its timber endure the longest. Hence, when we take
the geographical and physical range of any particular spe¬
cies of tree, the oak, for example, we shall find that there
is what may be called a central climate, where, when on
suitable soil, it attains its largest size ; and that as it recedes
from this climate, whether by latitude or elevation, either
into one which is colder, or one that is hotter, it gradually
diminishes in size, till it at last appears in the form of a
shrub. Thus the common oak, which in Britain attains its
largest size in Sussex and Hampshire, dwindles into a shrub
on the mountains of the Highlands of Scotland, and also in
the north of Africa; its degeneracy being occasioned in the
one case by extreme cold, and in the other by extreme heat.
Even within the range of the climate of Britain, the abso¬
lute character of trees, relath e^y to climate, is made obvi¬
ous. The English or narrow-leaved elm, which is suppos¬
ed to be a native of Asia Minor, and also of China, attains
a large size in the neighbourhood of London, producing a
great bulk of timber in a short period, and ripening its
seeds; while north of York it does not thrive, and in Scot¬
land it is considered only as an ornamental tree. The Lom¬
bardy poplar, which is known in the central counties of
England to attain 100 feet in height in forty or fifty years,
is nowhere seen of a timber-like size in Scotland; and it
may be observed of the sweet chestnut and the walnut, that
though they are grown both for their fruit and their timber
in many parts of England, yet that they cannot be profit¬
ably employed for either purpose north of Newcastle.
Climate, relatively to trees, may be considered in regard
to its average temperature throughout the year, to its tem¬
perature in summer and winter and in spring and autumn,
and to its degree of atmospheric moisture. A high average
temperature is no proof that a climate is suitable for trees ;
but a high summer temperature is suitable for many kinds,
though the temperature of the winter may be very low.
Thus the oaks and many other trees of North America, at¬
taining there a prodigious size, survive a winter as cold as
that of St Petersburg, where no native oaks of any kind
are ever found; but the oaks of North America enjoy a
very high temperature during summer, which rapidly de¬
velops their foliage and young shoots, and fully matures
the latter, so as to enable them to withstand the most rigo¬
rous frosts of winter. In England the average temperature
of the year is as great as that of the oak countries of the
United States; but our summers are comparatively cold,
moist, and gloomy; and though our winters are so much
milder than those of America, yet the spongy, unripened,
young shoots are always more or less injured by the frost.
Another disadvantage of a country having a mild winter is,
that the trees of those countries which have a very severe
winter come into leaf earlier in the spring than the indige¬
nous trees of the mild climate; and frosts being more or
less prevalent at that season, they are proportionably liable
to injury from that cause.
755
Evergreen trees form a very important division of the Planting
ligneous kingdom ; and of these there are two classes, very' y 
distinct relatively to climate and temperature. The first of
these classes comprises the needle-leaved trees, such as the
pine and fir tiibe, which will endure a degree of cold as
great as that in which any deciduous tree will thrive ; and
the second, the broad-leaved evergreen trees, such as the
holly, the box, the laurustinus, the laurel, the evergreen
oak, the cork-tree, and the evergreen mangolia, all of which
are trees of comparatively mild climates, and which are al¬
ways found in a natural state on islands, or on continents
at low elevations, and at no great distance from the sea:
hence the very considerable number of evergreen trees
which will endure the open air in Britain, compared with
those which stand through the winter in the same parallel
of latitude on the continent.
Of the trees cultivated in Great Britain, only a small pro¬
portion are indigenous. A considerable number are natives
of other parts of Europe, and about two thirds of the whole
are from North America. Of these North American trees
there is scarcely one that is worth cultivating in Britain for
its timber ; and the reason seems to be, chiefly, that our cli¬
mate is not sufficiently hot and light in summer to brino-
that timber to maturity. The truly useful timber-trees of
Britain are those which are indigenous, such as the oak,
the ash, the broad-leaved elm, the Scotch pine, &c.: or
those which are found in the same hemisphere and in the
same parallels of latitude, such as the larch, the spruce fir,
the silver fir, &c. Of all the trees which are cultivated in
Europe, that which is most to be depended on for the
stiength and durability of its timber is the common oak;
and next, and perhaps equal to it, is the larch. The trunk of
the oak-tree, when freed from the soft or outer wood, and
thoroughly seasoned by exposure to the atmosphere, will
endure an unknown period of time in buildings and ma¬
chines ; and, even when split up into thin laminae, and put
up in the open air as fencing, without any painting or other
preparation, it has been known to last for upwards of a
century. The common European oak is found to be more
durable as timber than any of the American oaks, even
when grown in America, unless we except the live oak ;
and there is perhaps no timber in the world equal to it for
ship-building, excepting the teak-wood of India. The most
generally useful timber grown in Britain is the Scotch pine ;
but as this timber is also imported from the north of Eu¬
rope, and a substitute for it from North America in great
quantities, it is not planted in Britain nearly so extensively
as it otherwise would be. The timber of the larch is un¬
doubtedly of greater durability than that of the Scotch
pine ; but being apt to warp, and not being so easily work¬
ed, it is less convenient for the purposes of house-carpentry
and joinery. The timber of the common ash is valuable in
the construction of agricultural instruments and machines,
and it is one of the few woods which are almost as valu¬
able when young as when of mature age. The wood of
the broad-leaved elm is strong and durable, but that of
the English and Dutch elms is much less so. The wood of
the poplar, and that of the willow, when exposed to con¬
stant atmospherical changes, speedily decay ; but when
thoroughly seasoned, and afterwards kept perfectly dry,
they will last for centuries. In general, it may be ob¬
served, that every description of timber, when at matu¬
rity, if thoroughly seasoned, and preserved in an atmo¬
sphere tolerably uniform in point of dryness, will last a long
period.
The great majority of trees which are planted in Britain
may be considered as ornamental; for though the timber
of all of them is more or less useful, yet, if the mere pro¬
duction of timber were the main object of planting, all trees
except the oak, the larch, the Scotch pine, and two or
three others, would be rejected, either on account of their
756
PLANTING.
Planting, slow growth, or of the inferior quality of the timber whic i
they produce in our climate. Trees may be considered as
ornamental, from their general shape, from their foliage,
from their flowers or fruit, or from their rarity. In order
that the shapes of trees may be displayed to advantage, it
is necessary that they should stand singly; and when this
is the case with some species of trees, such, for example, as
the different species of the pine and fir tribe, their shapes
become strikingly different from what they are when grown
in masses. The Scotch pine, when drawn up in close
forests, produces a clean, straight trunk, free from branches
for the greater part of its height; but when by chance or
design it stands singly, it throws out gigantic branches on
every side, and becomes one of the most irregular and pic¬
turesque-headed of trees. But of all the trees which as¬
sume ornamental shapes in consequence of standing sing y
or nearly so, the most remarkable is the cedar of Lebanon.
When this tree is grown in masses, it shoots up with a straight,
clean trunk, and terminates in a small, spiry top ; but when
planted alone, and allowed to spread its branches on every
side, it throws out its gigantic arms in successive tiers, and
forms an irregular pyramidal mass, unequalled foi grandeur,
singularity, and picturesque beauty, by any other tree, of
the temperate regions of either hemisphere. All trees in¬
deed become comparatively the same naked poles with
scanty tops when grown in masses, and all assume ii regu¬
lar and picturesque forms when grown singly. Hence,
whenever trees are grown chiefly for the purpose of display -
ing their shapes, they ought to be placed at such a distance
from each other as that their branches may not touch ;
which in practice is effected by scattering them in groups
in parks or pleasure-grounds, or planting them in. hedge¬
rows. Trees which are valued as ornamental chiefly for
their foliage, fruit, or flowers, will obviously display these
to the best advantage when standing singly ; but for such
an object isolation is much less necessary, as the ornamen¬
tal foliage will be displayed even when the plantation is in
masses, and seen at a distance ; and the flowers and fruits
by planting the trees in the margins of plantations of other
sorts.
II.—Selections of Trees for particular purposes.
The object of the preceding remarks is to communicate
some general ideas on the subject of selection, and on the
properties of particular species; and we shall next pursue
the same subject more in detail, by giving the names of the
principal trees deserving of culture in Britain, thrown into
groups characterized by some property common to the
whole.
Needle-leaved or Resinous Trees are characterized by
straight erect trunks, regularly furnished with branches in
tiers, which never, except under particular circumstances,
acquire the size of timber. They never send up shoots
from the collar or stool when cut over by the surface. The
leaves are narrow, or needle-shaped, without veins, and they
are evergreen. The seeds are produced in cones, and the
whole plant is more or less resinous. They belong to the
Gymnosperms of the natural system, which form an order
intermediate between the Dicotyledoneae, and the Monoco-
tyledoneae.
Larix Europaea, Dec., is the most valuable species for
its timber, which is of great durability, both in its young
and mature state. Young larches, five feet or six feet high,
and the spray of larch-trees of any age, last a very long
period, when intertwined with larch stakes, so as to form a
dead fence. Young trees from ten feet to fifteen feet in
height are found, in the neighbourhood of Farnham and
other places, to form the most durable hop-poles; and the
durability of the mature timber, in every department, both
in civil and naval architecture, has been placed beyond all
doubt, by the experience of John duke of Atholl, as re- Planting,
corded in the Transactions of the Highland Society of Scot- ‘
land, vol.xi. p. 165 ; and Loudon’s Arboretum Britannicum,
vol. iv. p. 2387. The bark of the larch is also of consider¬
able value in tanning; and the leaves being deciduous, the
tree is more favourable to the growth of grass under its
shade, than any other species of pine or fir. The larch is
readily increased by seeds which are ripened in abundance
in Britain ; and it prospers best in cool, argillaceous soil,
moist rather than dry, and placed at a considerable eleva¬
tion above the level of the sea. The larch is subject to
various diseases, and, in certain soils, to the decay of the
heart-wood; but very little is known at present, either of
the cause of these diseases, or of their prevention or cure.
The larch cultivated in Britain is a native of the Tyrol, and
of the Alps of Switzerland ; but there are some other spe¬
cies or varieties, natives of Siberia and North America,
which, however, are considered as scarcely worth culture as
forest-trees.
The Scotch pine, Pinus sylvestris, L., is, next to the larch,
the most valuable needle-leaved tree grown in Britain. Its
timber forms the yellow deal of the Baltic and Norway;
and it is unequalled by any species of pine or fir timber
contained in any other part of Europe, or North America.
The best Scotch-pine timber grown in Britain is produced
in the native Highland forests; but there.is reason to believe
that artificial plantations, on soils and situations as nearly
similar as practicable, would produce timber of nearly equal
value. It has been the practice for many years past to de¬
cry the Scotch pine grown in Britain as a timber-tree ;
and as we have now no difficulty in importing deal from
the north of Europe, this condemnation has been assent¬
ed to by many without due consideration. If, however,
we could import no pine or fir deal from any other country,
and were obliged to grow it ourselves, we would ask where
is the tree that would produce it in so short a time, and of
so good a quality, as the Scotch pine ? This tree is readily
increased from seeds, which, unfortunately, as is the case
with several other trees, are produced in the greatest abun¬
dance on stunted trees, or, at all events, on trees not re¬
markable for their large size, or the durability of their tim¬
ber. Hence it becomes desirable to select the seeds from
the best varieties, and this is now done systematically by
the principal Scotch nurserymen. The Highland variety,
with horizontal branches, P. sylvestris horizontalis, Arb.
Brit., is the variety at present of highest repute. Ihe
Scotch pine is a native of the continent of Europe, but not
of any part of America.
The spruce fir, Abies excelsa, Dec., is, as a British tim¬
ber-tree, next in value to the Scotch pine. The young
plants and the spray are almost as durable as those of the
larch ; the trunk grows straighter, more erect and slender,
than in that tree, and when used with the bark on, as poles
or as fence-wood, it is equally durable. The spruce makes
much better hop-poles than the larch ; but as the trunk of
full-grown trees seldom attains a diameter of above one or
two feet at the ground, even in countries where it is a na¬
tive, the trunk can very seldom be profitably sawn up into
boards. The great value of the tree is for poles of every
kind, from those fit for the hop, up to the masts for the
smaller ships. In most parts of Europe, all the poles used
in the scaffolding employed in erecting buildings are formed
of this tree. The spruce fir ripens seeds abundantly in
Britain, from which plants are as readily raised as in the
case of the Scotch pine and the larch. It prefers a soft soil,
rather moist, and only attains a great height in sheltered
situations; but it will grow to a size fit for hop- poles or fen¬
cing in a short time, and anywhere. Like the Scotch pine,
it is subject to few diseases. The spruce fir is a native of
the north of Germany, Sweden, Russia, and Norway, but
not of Britain or of North America. There are three or
^.Planting. ^our sPec^es spruce natives of the latter country, but they
v_are °f uo value as timber-trees.
1 he pinaster, Pinus Pinaster, Ait., is by no means adapted
or geneial culture in Britain, and therefore scarcely merits
to be ranked among our needle-leaved timber-trees. In
some parts of England, however, particularly in Norfolk,
considerable plantations of this tree have been raised; and
it is found in deep sandy soil to produce a considerable bulk
°, timber in a short time. It has also the advantage of
thriving better when exposed to the sea-breeze than any
other pine or fir. The wood is not so durable as that of
the Scotch pine; but it is of the same colour, and may be
employed in the joinery of ordinary apartments. In general,
however, it is by no means sufficiently strong for the roof-
inS> joists, and other carpentry of dwelling-houses. A great
use of the tree in France, and particularly in the neighbour¬
hood of Bordeaux, where it is extensively grown on the
sandy wastes, is for the production of resin, tar, and pitch,
which are obtained by incisions made in the trunk, and by
subjecting the wood to the action of fire. Seeds of this
tree are ripened in England; but they may be obtained
in any quantity, at a very moderate rate, from Bordeaux.
The young plants require more care in transplanting than
those of most other pines and firs, being furnished with a
stronger tap-root than any of them. The pinaster is a na¬
tive of the south of Europe and north of Asia, but not of
America. It has been introduced, however, into most
countries, probably from the large size and handsome ap¬
pearance of the cones. Accordingly, specimens of this
tree have been sent home from China, New Zealand, St He¬
lena, North America, &c.; and the produce of the seeds
from these places are commonly, but improperly, treated by
nurserymen as varieties.
The silver fir, Picea pectinata, Arb. Brit., in favourable
soils and situations produces a great bulk of timber in a
comparatively short period; but the timber is much less
strong and durable than that of either the spruce fir or the
Scotch pine. The tree is of slow growth for the first ten
or twelve years of its existence, and the leading shoot is at
that age very apt to be injured by spring frosts; never¬
theless, even in the north and west of Scotland it has been
known to attain to the height of 100 feet in sixty or seven¬
ty years. The timber is white, and makes excellent floor¬
ing for bed-rooms. The tree ripens seeds in Britain, though
more sparingly than the spruce fir, and plants are easily
raised. It is in general healthy, though the points of the
shoots are occasionally destroyed by frost or by insects.
The silver fir is a native of Central Germany, and of the
Alps of Italy and Spain; but of no other country. There
are other species of Picea, natives of North America and
Nepaul; but relatively to Britain they can only be consi¬
dered as ornamental trees.
Other needle leaved trees might be enumerated as at¬
taining a timber-like size in the climate of England ; but
there is not one of them that we think can be ranked in
value along with those already mentioned as timber-trees.
Of the American pines, that of which we have had most
experience in this country is the Weymouth pine, Pinus
Strobus, L., which furnishes the white pine-wood of Ame¬
rican commerce; but this wood, grown in any given situ¬
ation in Britain, is far inferior to that of the Scotch pine
grown in the same locality; and there are only a few situ¬
ations in England where the Weymouth pine will produce
the same bulk of timber as the Scotch pine in the same pe¬
riod. The other American pines, as timber-trees adapted
for Britain, scarcely deserve notice. Pinus taeda, serotina,
and rigida, have attained a timber size in a few places in
England ; but the time they have required to do this, even
under the most favourable circumstances, precludes the
°r ^ie.*r ever ^coming British timber-trees. Seve¬
ral Californian species of pine have recently been intro-
PLANTING.
757
duced ; but half a century will be required to enable us to Planting,
judge of their suitableness for this country. The Califor
nian spruce fir, Abies Douglasii, is the most promising
needle-leaved tree that has been introduced from that
country; but it remains to be proved whether we shall
ever be able to rank it with the common spruce. Of Ne-
paid pines there are two species, P. excelsa and P. Lam-
bertiana, which resemble the Weymouth pine; and there
is a spruce fir, Abies Smithiana, Arb. Brit., A. Morinda
H°rtl whlch promises to be as hardy as the Norway spruce ;
but the other pines and firs of the Himalayas are all rather
tender. The cedar of Lebanon, if planted in masses, like
the larch or the Scotch pine, would, in good free soil, pro¬
duce abundance of timber, but of far inferior strength and
durability to what the Scotch pine would produce similarly
treated. However ornamental, therefore, this tree may be,
it cannot be recommended as fit to be cultivated for its
timber. There are some European pines and firs which
deserve to be noticed, as possibly containing some trees
among them that might be cultivated as timber. Among
these are the Corsican pine, Pinus laricio, Pair., includ¬
ing several varieties, among which, as we think, may be
reckoned the black pine of Austria, Pinus Austriaca, Boss,
as well as the Pyrenean pine, Pinus Pyrenaica, La Pey-
rouse, P. Hispanica, Cook. All these species or varieties
appear to thrive in the climate of London; and there is a
Corsican pine in the arboretum at Kew which is upwards
of eighty feet high. Whether the rate of growth, and the
strength and durability of the timber, will ultimately prove
equal to that of the Scotch pine, appears to us doubtful. We
think, however, that in point of bulk of timber, the Corsi¬
can pine would equal the Pinaster. The Cembrian pine,
P. Cembra, L., of which there are two varieties, one a na¬
tive of Switzerland and the other of Siberia, growrs as ra¬
pidly even in Scotland as it does in its native localities;
but it is of extremely slow grow th everywhere, and not
worth cultivating as a timber-tree. Specimens in the cli¬
mate of London, which have been nearly 100 years plant¬
ed, have trunks only forty or fifty feet high, and from a
foot to eighteen inches in diameter at the ground. The
yew-tree, Taxas baccata, L., though it attains its full per¬
fection in this country, being indigenous, yet, from its slow
growth, and the little demand for its timber, it cannot be
recommended to the planter whose main object is profit.
The arbor vitae, evergreen cypress, deciduous cypress,
and juniper, all belong to the needle-leaved division of
trees ; but none of them are worth cultivation with a view
to profit.
Broad-leaved Trees, in contradistinction to needle-leaved,
are classed, according to their timber, in two subdivisions,
hard-wooded trees, and soft-wooded trees. They are charac¬
terized by large trunks and widely-spreading woody branch¬
es, and broad leaves with branching veins; they send up
shoots from the collar or stool when cut over by the ground ;
and they are deciduous. They belong to the Dicotyledonem
of the natural system.
The hard-wooded Timber-trees of Britain are character¬
ized by the comparative hardness and durability of their
wood, and consist chiefly of the oak, ash, elm, beech, sweet
chestnut, walnut, and locust or false acacia.
The British oak may be considered as including two
species or subspecies, the stalked fruited, or most common
oak, Quercus Robur pedunculata, Arb. Brit, and the stalk¬
less fruited, or less common oak, Quercus Robur sessiliflo-
ra, Arb. Brit. I he latter species or subspecies is found
to grow more erect and more rapidly than the other, more
particularly if the soil be good and deep. The two sorts
are found indiscriminately mixed together in many parts of
England, as in Woburn Park, Bedfordshire, and in various
parts of Sussex ; in other places one species exclusively
prevails, as at liberton Park, near Hereford, where there
758
Planting.
PLANTING.
are some of the largest oaks in England, on a deep, loamy
soil, and almost all Q. R* sessiliflora. At W elbeck, in Not-
tinghamshire, on the other hand, there are a great many
oaks, almost exclusively Q,. R. pedunculata. In all the
places mentioned, the trees are the remains of nat ive forests.
Though the wood of the oak is the strongest and most du¬
rable of that of all British timber-trees, the tree is not al¬
ways that which the planter would make choice of with a
view to profit, on account of the slowness of its growth. It
has, however, this advantage, that as it bears a higher price
than any other British timber, so it will pay better at a dis¬
tance from the market; and thus, while oak will pay after
conveying it fifty or sixty miles to a seaport, elm will scarcely
pay at half that distance, and the soft woods at still less.
Oak plantations are also more valuable than others when in
a young state, on account of the value of their bark. From
the value of oak as ship-timber, the price of trees fit for
that purpose is always considerable ; though what is paid
for the largest trunks employed in naval architecture will
not remunerate any one for the number of years they must
have stood on the ground. Accordingly we find that the
governments both of France and England grow this de¬
scription of timber exclusively in national forests. The
wood of the oak has also the advantage of being applicable
to a greater number of uses than that of most other trees.
Houses, ships, furniture, and machines, may be formed al¬
most entirely of oak, and consequently there is a ready sale
for this kind of timber almost everywhere ; hence the
oak may be more planted in Britain than any other hard-
wooded tree. It is easily raised from acorns, which ought to
be collected from the tallest and handsomest trees. The
British, or naval oak, as it may perhaps be more properly
called, is a native of Britain and most parts of Europe, but
not of Asia, Africa, or North America. There are several
subordinate varieties, but none worth notice as timber-trees,
excepting the kinds which we have noticed.
The ash, Fraxinus excelsior, L., is in most parts of Bri¬
tain next in value as a timber-tree to the oak. The wood
is chiefly used in the manufacture of agricultural implements,
such as ploughs, handles to spades, mattocks, handles to car¬
penters’ implements, carts, waggons, threshing-machines, &c.
Young ash-trees, and ash poles and suckers, are also much
in demand for crate-ware, hoops, whip-handles, walking-
sticks, and especially for hop-poles. Before the general in¬
troduction of cast iron in machinery, ash-wood was much
more in demand than it is at present. The tree requires a
good, deep, loamy soil, dry rather than moist; and a situa¬
tion naturally sheltered, such as the steep banks of glens,
rivers, or lakes. As the value of the timber depends chiefly
on its toughness and elasticity, the tree is best grown in
groves or masses, in consequence of which, where the soil is
good, the growth is rapid, and the trunk is drawn up free
from large side-branches. The tree is easily propagated
from its seeds or keys. It is a native of Central Europe,
but of no other part of the world. There are several species
of ash natives of North America, and one or two of Europe;
but these are of no value in this country, excepting as or¬
namental trees.
Of the elm there are two species, the English or narrow¬
leaved elm, Ulmus campestris, L., and the Scotch or broad-
leaved elm, Ulmus montana, L. Between these two species
there are several varieties, or hybrids, such as the Dutch
elm and the Huntingdon elm, the latter by far the most
valuable timber-tree of the genus. The narrow-leaved elm
can hardly be considered as a timber-tree in Scotland, but
in the central districts of England its rapid growth, straight
trunk, and ample spreading head, constitute it a magnifi¬
cent tree ; and the timber is useful for some important pur¬
poses in ship-building, as well as in the construction of ma¬
chines and agricultural buildings. The Scotch elm is a
hardy tree, of rapid growth; but, unless planted in masses, it
seldom produces a straight handsome trunk. Its timber is Planting,
much more durable than that of the English elm, or of any '
of the hybrids between the species. It was formerly much
used in agricultural carpentry, in rural machinery, and in
common household furniture. The Scotch elm produces
abundance of seeds, which, if sown as soon as they are ga¬
thered, often come up the same year ; but the English elm
and the hybrids produce seeds very sparingly, and are al¬
most always propagated by layers, or by grafting on the
Scotch elm. One remarkable difference between the Eng¬
lish and Scotch elms it may be useful to notice, viz. that
the latter never throws up suckers from its roots; and it
is therefore peculiarly valuable as a stock for the English
elm, and for those varieties or hybrids between the species
which do throw up suckers. There are some other species
and varieties of European elms, and several kinds of Ame¬
rican elms, but none of them are deserving of culture in
Britain as timber-trees.
The beech, Fagus sylvatica, Z., acquires a large size, par¬
ticularly on chalky or sandy soils. It is a very handsome
tree in every stage of its growfth, but the timber is not re¬
markable either for strength or durability. It was formerly
much used in mill-work and turnery ; but its principal use
at present is in the manufacture of chairs, bedsteads, and
a variety of minor articles. It is a native of England, and
of various parts of the continent of Europe. There are
some varieties, particularly the purple beech ; and there are
one or two species natives of North America, but none of
them deserve notice as timber-trees. It is propagated by
its mast, which it produces plentifully in fine seasons.
The hornbeam, Carpinus Betulus, Z., is an indigenous
tree, which attains the same height, but not the same diame¬
ter of trunk, as the beech, to which it bears a general resem¬
blance, but is in every respect greatly inferior. It is pro¬
pagated by its nuts, which it produces in abundance. This
tree and the beech were formerly highly valued for making
lofty hedges, on account of their retaining their leaves great
part of the winter.
The sweet chestnut, Castanea vesca, Gcertn., is gene¬
rally ranked next to the beech as a timber-tree; but in
that character it has little or no merit. The tree is mag¬
nificent in appearance, rivalling, when full grown, the Bri¬
tish oak; but it differs essentially from that tree in its tim¬
ber not increasing in value as it increases in age. In Bri¬
tain, and also in France, it was formerly believed that the
roofs of the oldest cathedrals, and of Westminster Hall and
other buildings, were of chestnut; and it was thought, in
consequence, that the tree had formerly been more abun¬
dant, both in Britain and on the Continent, than it is at pre¬
sent. Subsequent inquiry, however, proves all this to be a
mistake; and Daubenton and various others have shown
that the timber called chestnut in old buildings is referable
to the chestnut oak, Quercus Robur sessiliflora, Arb. Brit.
It is worthy of remark, that some of the ancient writers de¬
scribe a grove of chestnuts as extending northwards from
London, and abounding in wild beasts; and that the re¬
mains of the indigenous woods at Hampstead, in the Earl
of Mansfield’s grounds, are of the chestnut oak. The timber
of the sweet chestnut, when not more than of forty or fifty
years’ growth, forms very durable posts for fences and gates;
being, according to some, more durable in this capacity than
oak itself; but whenever the trunk of the tree becomes of
larger dimensions than six or eight inches in diameter, the
timber is found to be shaky ; and at eighteen inches or two
feet in diameter it has already begun to decay at the heart.
In a young state, when the stems are not above two inches
in diameter at the ground, the chestnut is found to make
durable hoops for casks and props for vines ; and of a larger
size it makes good hop-poles, though the stem tapers rather
too much for that purpose. It is a native of Asia, the north
of Africa, and of North America; and some think it a na-
PLANTING.
Fknting. ^ tive of Britain. In the south of England, in fine seasons,
it ripens abundance of fruit, from which plants are easily
raised. There are a number of varieties, both in Britain
and on the Continent, which are highly valued for the
qualities of their fruit; but none of these, nor any of the
American kinds, are worthy of being cultivated for their
timber.
The common sycamore, Acer Pseudo-Platanus, Z., is a
tree of the second rank, seldom attaining the height of any
of those that have been hitherto mentioned. It has, how¬
ever, the merit of withstanding the sea and mountain breezes
better than most other timber-trees ; and its wood is valued
in turnery, and for a variety of minor purposes. It produces
abundance of seeds, which, like those of the ash, are called
keys, and it is easily raised in the nursery ; but it does little
good in plantations, unless the soil be good and tolerably
dry. It will neither thrive on very stiff clays, nor on dry
sands or chalks. There are several species of Acer, natives
of Europe and North America; and that which comes near¬
est to A. Pseudo-Platanus, as a timber-tree, appears to be
the A. obtusatum, Arb. Brit., a native of Hungary and
Calabria, but it has not yet been tried in plantations made
with a view to profit. The Norway maple, A. platanciides,
L., is a hardy and very interesting tree ; but neither it, nor
any of the other species, either from America or Europe,
seem to deserve cultivation for their timber. If we made
any exception, it would be in favour of the common field-
maple, Acer campestre, Z., which forms a very curious
wood for the cabinet-maker.
The common birch, Betula alba, Z., is another tree of
the second rank, which is worthy of culture in inferior soils
and situations, more especially as coppice-wood. The spray,
in some parts of the country, is sold to the besom-maker,
and makes a valuable return. The tree seeds freely, and
is in every stage of its progress easy of management. There
are several species of birch, natives of North America, which
attain the size of timber-trees, and all of them have been
introduced into this country, and tried in British planta¬
tions ; but there is not one of them which can be consider¬
ed otherwise than as an ornamental object, or as one of bo¬
tanical interest.
The false acacia, or locust, Robinia Pseud-Acacia, Z.,
may be placed amongst the timber-trees of the second rank.
It is of unquestionable beauty, and much has been said of
the value of its timber. When of a certain age, this is of
g1 eat hardness and durability, and it lasts a long time as
posts, or as trenails or wooden pins, for bolting together
ships timbers. Por the latter purpose, however, iron and
copper are now generally used, both in Europe and Ame¬
rica. 1 he false acacia has been much recommended by
Cobbett and a host of other writers for hop-poles and props
for vines; but though it has been extensively tried in Eng¬
land for the former purpose, it is now utterly neglected,
being found rarely to grow straight and clean, and, when
used, being much less durable than the ash.
Amongst hard-wooded trees of the third rank, the timber
of which is of some use, are the mountain ash, Sorbus do-
mestica, Z.; the white beam-tree, Sorbus Aria, Z.; the
wild apple, wild pear, wild cherry, and wild plum, the haw¬
thorn, the holly, the laburnum, and perhaps one or two
others. We could hardly recommend a plantation to be
made solely of any of these trees ; but when a few are in¬
troduced by way of variety or ornament, it is useful to know
that their timber is of some value. The laburnum, the
holly, the yew (which last we have included under the
needle-leaved trees), are by far the most valuable of the
trees of the third rank. The heart-timber of the laburnum
is almost as dark and hard as that of ebony, and that of the
holly is of a beautiful white. The timber of the yew is
veined, and its beauty may be increased by judicious stain¬
ing. x. he roots of the thorn, the yew, and of most of the
759
third-rate trees, are often beautifully veined, and employed Planting,
in cabinet-making and veneering. ^
Soft-wooded Trees are distinguished by the comparative
rapidity of their growth, and the softness of their wood
its whiteness, and its limited duration. The principal of
these worth cultivating in Britain as timber-trees, are the
poplar, the willow, the alder, the lime, and the horse-
chestnut.
The poplar, Populus, Z. There are several species of
this tree, which well deserve culture with a view to their
timber, where the soil is good and deep, and where the
roots can reach water without being saturated by it. The
white and gray poplars, Populus alba, Z., and P. canescens,
Z., are hardy, of very rapid growth, attaining a height of thirty
or forty feet in most parts of Britain in ten or twelve years,
and producing a beautiful, smooth, compact, white timber!
well adapted for flooring bed-rooms, and for a great many
minor purposes, either in its native colour, or stained black
in imitation of ebony. The black Italian poplar, P. mo-
nilifera, Dec., is an equally rapid-growing tree with the
white poplar, and produces a beautiful pale-yellow timber.
The common black poplar, P. nigra, does not grow so ra¬
pidly as the last, and seldom produces a straight trunk ; but
its timber is homogeneous, of a yellowish white, and takes
a fine dye. The aspen, or trembling poplar, P. tremula ;
and the Athenian poplar, P* Graeca, are of slower growth
than the white or black poplars, and they have a beautiful,
smooth, homogeneous, white wood. There are a number
of other species of poplar, chiefly natives of America, and
the Lombardy poplar, which is a native of Persia; but
none of these are worthy of being planted as timber-trees
in the climate of Britain.
The white willow, Salix alba, Z., is a rapid-growing
tree, and produces a great bulk of timber in a short period.
The wood is white, soft, and sometimes slightly veined with
blue. When kept dry, and well ventilated, it will last a
long time, and has been found in buildings which have
existed upwards of a hundred years, in a perfectly sound
state. The Bedford willow, Salix Russelliana, Z., grows
with about the same rapidity as the white or Huntingdon
willow, and its timber is of the same quality. The crack-
willow, Salix fragilis, Z., is a tree of a smaller size, but
its timber is useful for a variety of purposes; and the bark
of this, and of most of the other species, may be used in
tanning. There are a great many species and varieties of
willow natives of Europe, or of North America and Asia;
but, excepting the three above mentioned, wTe do not con¬
sider any of them as worth cultivating for timber.
The alder, Betula Alnus, Z.; Alnus glutinosa, Dec., is
an indigenous tree, of smaller size and much lower growth
than the poplars, or tree-willows; but its timber is more
valuable from being more compact, less liable to twist, and
haying a fine mahogany tinge. The tree is a native of
Britain, and of most parts of Europe, on moist soils by
rivers ; and it is readily propagated by seeds. There are
some other European species; and two, Alnus incana, and
Alnus cordifolia (the latter lately introduced from Naples),
may probably prove useful as timber-trees, as they both
grow on dry soils; but, from the experience which has yet
been had respecting them, they can only at present be re¬
commended as ornamental.
The lime-tree, Tilia Europaea, Z., is a well-known soft-
wooded tree, of some value for its timber, which is used by
musical-instrument makers and carvers. It is a native of
Europe, and is generally propagated by layers. The blos¬
soms produce the whitest and most delicate honey in the
world. There are some American lime-trees, but they
scarcely attain the size of timber-trees in England.
Ihe horse-chestnut, ^Esculus Hippocastanum, Z., is a
rapid-growing tree in good soil; but its timber is perhaps
t le least valuable of the class to which it belongs, as ifc has
760
PLANTING.
Planting. little strength, and, unless kept dry, is far from being du-
^ y~—' rable ; but it is useful for some husbandry purposes, such
as linings to carts, wheel-barrows, &c.; and it takes a ready
dye as a substitute for ebony.
* The only soft- wooded trees that can be recommended
for culture with a view to profit, are the white, gray, black
Italian, and common black poplars, and the white and Bed¬
ford willows.
Hedge-trees and Shrubs*—Plants which are useful for
forming hedges are of as great importance to the planter
as those which are valuable for their timber. Almost all
trees planted in rows, with the free admission of air and light
on every side, will become clothed with branches from the
ground upwards ; and if these are occasionally cut in, they
will form gigantic hedges, more or less compact; but some
trees are much better adapted for this purpose than others;
and among those of the first class, the best are the beech,
the hornbeam, the elm, the lime, the Lombardy poplar,
and the spruce fir. The best of the second class are per¬
haps the common birch, Sir Charles Wager’s maple (Acer
eriocarpum), and the evergreen oak ; and the best of the
third class are the common thorn, the crab, the sloe, the
wild plum, the buckthorn, the barberry, the holly, and the
yew. By far the best of these for British field-hedges is
the common hawthorn, and the next best is the wild crab.
The sloe or black thorn makes an excellent hedge ; but it
throws up so many suckers, that it requires constant atten¬
tion to keep it within bounds. It forms, however, an ex¬
cellent barrier for picturesque plantations, where it is al¬
lowed to spread itself in every direction. The holly, were
it not for the slowness of its growth, would form the best
of all hedges, both for gardens and fields, as its leaves are
little liable to be injured by insects ; and, being an ever¬
green, it neither harbours weeds nor vermin at its roots.
Birds are also much less apt to build in it than they are in
deciduous hedges. It has only two disadvantages that we
are aware of, viz. the slowness of its growth, and its imper¬
viousness to wind in the winter season. On this last ac¬
count, when on damp clayey soil, it has a tendency to pre¬
vent the drying of arable lands in spring. Were holly
hedges occasionally introduced among those of the com¬
mon thorn, they would add very greatly to the beauty of
the country in the winter season ; and, on dry uplands,
they would form excellent shelter for stock. The common
furze sown on the top of a high bank forms an effective
hedge in a short period, but it is of no great duration. On
moist soils fences may be made for planting rows of wil¬
lows or poplars, and in situations exposed to the sea-
breeze the elder may be planted; but such fences can be
hardly considered as hedges, from their want of compact¬
ness and density of foliage.
Trees and Shrubs suitable for Coppice-wood and Under¬
growth.—One property required for all these plants is, that
they should stole or spring up from the collar or stool when
they are cut over ; and the true undergrowths are only to
be found among such shrubs as will grow under the shade
of trees. There are a great many woody plants which may
be cultivated as coppice-wood; indeed there are few of the
broad-leaved trees and shrubs which will not answer for
this purpose, but the locality must determine the preference.
In soft, wet soils, the birch, the alder, and the apple-leaved
willow, are amongst the most common and useful trees. In
drier soils, the ash forms a most valuable coppice-wood,
supplying handles for agricultural implements, stuff for
hurdles, hoops, wattles, and a great many other useful ar¬
ticles. In good, deep, loamy soil, the oak forms an excel¬
lent underwood ; and if the situation be at a distance Lorn
a market, it is by far the most valuable that can be em¬
ployed, as the bark alone will produce a sufficient profit,
and, from its portable nature, it can be sent to a greater dis¬
tance than timber.
Ornamental Trees and Shrubs include by far the greater Planting,
number of woody plants in cultivation ; though many, per-
haps the whole of them, produce wood which, when it can
be obtained of sufficient size, may be applied to some use¬
ful purpose. As already observed, we exclude altogether
from consideration in this article, flowering and fruit-bear¬
ing trees and shrubs. We also exclude all those that are
rather delicate, or require particular kinds of soil; and shall
confine ourselves to trees and shrubs which are considered
ornamental from their general form, and which may be in¬
troduced into the margins of ordinary plantations in most
parts of Britain. We shall arrange these under the heads
of evergreen and deciduous.
Evergreen ornamental Trees and Shrubs.—The most or¬
namental of these, and one which will thrive in every part
of Great Britain, is undoubtedly the cedar of Lebanon. It
is somewhat delicate when young; but, if brought forward
in pots, placed where it is finally to remain when of the
height of eighteen inches or two feet, and carefully plant¬
ed, and protected from cattle and vermin, it soon makes a
vigorous growth, and becomes a handsome tree, even in the
Highlands of Scotland. The seeds of the cedar of Leba¬
non, when left in the cones, retain their vitality for a num¬
ber of years; the cones are sometimes imported from the
Levant, but more generally obtained from English trees.
Where proper care can be bestowed on the seeds and the
soil, it would be an improvement to sow them where they
are finally to remain ; because the cedar, and all the pine
and fir tribe, depending principally on their surface-roots,
suffer more from confinement in a pot, or transplanting from
the open nursery, than trees having powerful tap-roots.
The Deodar cedar differs in general aspect from the cedar
of Lebanon, in having foliage of a whitish or glaucous hue.
It appears to be as hardy as the other, and will probably
soon become as common. Cones are imported from the
Himalaya Mountains, •where the tree is indigenous ; or it
may be grafted on the common cedar, or raised from cut¬
tings. All the pine and fir tribe may be described as high¬
ly ornamental, and a great many of them will endure the
open air in the coldest parts of Britain. The Weymouth
pine, Pinus Strobus, is a very hardy ornamental tree ; and
still more so is the Pinus Cembra, which is of slow and
erect growth, and retains the beauty of youth longer than
any other pine. The Pinus excelsa is a very hardy and
very ornamental species, but it is at present rare. Pinus
Banksiana, and P. inops, are curious and very ornamental
species. Some of the Californian pines, particularly P. pon-
derosa and P. Sabiniana, appear to be quite hardy. Among
the ornamental spruce firs may be mentioned Abies Smithi-
ana (A. Morinda, Hort.), a native of the Himalayas, which
closely resembles the common spruce, and is apparently as
hardy; it is readily propagated by cuttings, and by herba¬
ceous grafting on the common spruce ; and the trees al¬
ready planted will probably very soon produce cones. The
largest tree of this species in Britain is probably that at
Hopetoun House, near Edinburgh. The Douglas fir, Abies
Douglasii, is a very handsome tree, apparently as hardy
as the common spruce, but differing in the dark-green
colour and somewhat two-rowed disposition of its leaves,
from which it appears intermediate between the common
spruce and the silver fir. It has already attained the height
of eighteen or twenty feet in different parts of Britain,
and has produced cones. The Cephalonian fir, Abies Ce-
phalonica, Arb. Brit, is a very handsome tree of the same
kind, and of recent introduction; and which, having with¬
stood the winter of 1837—38, is probably hardy enough to
become an ornamental British tree. It is very readily
propagated by cuttings, and cones might doubtless be
imported from Cephalonia. The black and white spruces
of North America are well known ornaments in our shrub¬
beries; and there are some Californian species, such as Abies
_^jr-Menziesii, which will probably soon be added to their num-
Der. I he hemlock spruce (Abies Canadensis, Mich.) is one
ot the most ornamental of fir-trees; it is very hardy, and
ripens seeds in different parts of England. One of the
finest specimens is at Strathfieldsaye, in Hampshire, the
seat of the Duke of Wellington. Among the ornamental
silver nrs, the first in point of grandeur is the Picea Web-
bimia, Arb. Brit. ; but, even in the climate of London, it
fwi? S0. niu.<rh fro”1 the sPring frosts, that it is doubtful
whether it will ever become a very ornamental tree in Eng¬
land. .Nevertheless, though the severe winter of 1837-38
seriously injured this tree, it did not kill it; and probably,
as i increases in age, it may be later in protruding its young
shoots, and thus be more likely to .escape the spring frosts.
Even the silver fir, which attains the height of 100 feet and
upwards in many parts of Britain, is yet frequently injured
by frosts during the first twenty years of its growth. Picea
pichta Frasen, and some other species and varieties, na-
S]lb|riari°r North America’ are as hardy as the balm
of Gilead fir, Picea balsama, Arb. Brit. The Chili pine,
Araucaria imbricata, is a noble tree in its native country,
and appears to be much hardier in the climate of Britain
than has generally been imagined. Young plants which
Have been two or three years established in the open
ground passed the severe winter of 1837-38 without anv
injury, which renders it not improbable that it may ulti¬
mately prove as hardy as the common cedar. The ever-
green oak, Quercus Ilex, L., is a hardy evergreen tree, of
which there are several varieties. It is readily propagated
from its acorns, which are ripened in abundance in this
country, or may be imported from the Continent. It will
inye in any deep dry soil, and forms excellent hedges, or
shelter to a dwelling-house. The cork-tree, Quercus Suber,
mi! co1rresPonding character, but rather more tender.
Ihe holly, the common yew, the Irish yew, and the box-
tree, are evergreens universally known and admired. They
are perfectly hardy in every part of Britain, and deserve a
place m every plantation.
The Portugal laurel and the common laurel form very
ornamental trees, or large shrubs; and, from their glossy
foliage, they are particularly beautiful in winter. The
alaternus and the phillyrea form large bodies very orna¬
mental. The arbor vitae, of which there are two species,
is very hardy, and forms a permanent fastigiate low tree.
I he red cedar, Jumperus Virginiana, L., the Phoenician ju¬
mper, and some other species of juniper, are at once hardy
and ornamental. The cedar of Goa, Cupressus lusitanica,
E., is a beautiful evergreen, with glaucous foliage, but
somewhat tender; nevertheless, in Ireland it has attained
a great size. The common cypress, Cupressus semper
yu-ens, L., grows vigorously in the central districts of Eng-
iand, but scarcely thrives in the northern counties. The
Arbutus is one of the handsomest of evergreens, and is
admired for its flowers and fruit, no less than for its foliage
and general form. There are several varieties and species
which endure the open air in the climate of London, but
which are found rather tender farther north. The sweet
bay, Laurus nobilis, L., forms a bushy low tree in the cli¬
mate of London, and in the south of England has attained
e height of sixty feet; but it suffered much from the
severe winter of 1837-38, and may be considered, on the
whole, as rather tender.
Sub-evergreens are trees which retain their leaves through
the winter in a green state, and drop them late in spring-,
immediately before the development of the new leaves.
e principal British trees of this description are certain
varieties of the Turkey oak, and more especially the
Fulham oak, and the Lucombe oak. These are trees of
the first rank, and m the central districts of England be¬
come magnificent objects. Turner’s oak, Quercus Turneri,
aDd f°rmS a handsome tree of
PLANTING.
761
second size. Quercus virens, the live oak of America Plantinir
forms a sub-evergreen tree in the climate of London but
tendeT. ^ ^ t0 ^ that [t wiU be found rathei
The common privet, especially when cultivated in good
sinplp^f meS a Sr,lbTergreen bush’and’ when trimmed to a
e stem, a handsome small tree; and to it might be
added some others, such as Cratmgus Mexicana, Photinia
aster fragWa affiSanStata’AriSt0teIia MaC(lui’ and Cotone
fngida, affims, acuminata, and nummularia, all of
^ i * Tly m t1he clirnate of London, and also
in Ii eland, but rather tender in the north of England and
m some parts of Scotland. g ’ d
Deciduous ornamental Trees and Shrubs We shall
notice the hardiest of these in the order in which they oc¬
cur in the natural system. Magnolia acuminata is perhaps
the only species of Magnolia that can be considered truly
hardy in most parts of Britain; and, from its large Heaves7
and curious greenish-blue flowers which afterwards change to
yellow, it well deserves a place either on the lawn, or in the
margin of plantations. M. cordata, tripetala, and conspi-
cua, are quite hardy in moderate climates; but M. conspi-
cua flowers so early that it is apt to be injured by spring
frosts. The tulip tree, Liriodendron Tulipifera, I., fbrmf
a tree of the first rank in the climate of London, and at¬
tains a considerable size in the milder parts of Scotland •
oi the beauty of its foliage, independently altogether of its
flowers, it deserves a place in every collection. The Hun-
gamn or white-leaved lime-tree, Tilia Europma alba, Arb.
Bnt., is a tree of the second rank, of very great beauty
a-nd nearly as hardy as the common lime-tree. From the
effect of its mass of white foliage among the green leaves
of other trees, it becomes useful for breaking formal lines
wfotCe hglHttentl0nut0 Particular objects, or harmonizing
vfofo bUl d!r?iWlth verdant scenery. The red-wooded and
yt fow-woodcd lime-trees are very ornamental, and also the
c it-leaved variety. The American limes are sufficiently
hardy to attain the size of trees in the climate of London7
and, flora their leaves being much larger than those of the
Luiopean limes, they are very ornamental. The maple
Acer, />., is a genus which contains some of the finest or¬
namental trees that occur in British plantations. They are
all valunbfo for coming early into leaf and early into flower,
as well as for the many angled forms of their leaves and
the beauty of their buds. Ihe variegated leaved wieta
of the common sycamore form very ornamental objects but
ike all variegated leaved trees, their greatest beauty’is in
spring, when the leaves first expand. The variety with
wfote striped leaves is well known, and is very generally
thnnffo hbUf the yellow-leaved variety, or Corstorp7hFne plane!
though by far the most beautiful, is scarcely known, except
in the neighbourhood of the original tree. The purple
leaved variety is a very striking one, having the under Sir-
face of the leaves, more especially when they first come out
in spring of a dark purple. The hairy fruited,T Sfo
Charles Wager s maple, Acer eriocarpum, is a very ele¬
gantly shaped tree, with beautifully cut leaves, and conspi¬
cuous reddish flowers, which appear in February; it ought
ever to be omitted in plantations having the slightest pre¬
tensions to ornament. The red flowering or scarlet manle
A. rubrum, resembles the last tree in foli^e; bu“t fl3er ’
are of a much darker red, and the tree is of less vigorous
growth. In autumn the leaves die off of an intenself deep
red insomuch that the tree attracts attention even at the
distance of a mile or two. Where it thrives, it may cer
tamly be considered as the most ornamental of afl the
maples. A. Tatar,cum and spicatum are low trees thl
first a native of Tartary, and the last of North America •
they are remarkably hardy, come early into flower and
their keys and leaves die off of a fine yellow or red. ’ Th^
snake-barked maple, A. striatum, is a beautiful tree, whether
5 D
PLANTING.
we regard its leaves or its bark ; it is a native of Pennsyl¬
vania, and therefore quite hardy in Britain. A. macrophy¬
lum, the large-leaved maple, is a remarkably fine tree, witn
leaves sometimes nearly a foot in diameter; it appears
be as hardy as the common or the Norway maple, and its
and the broad-leaved spindle-tree, E. latifolius, are the hand- Planting-,
somest hardy species of the genus, and, when trained upv v '
to single trees on a deep loamy soil, with ample space,
they form in autumn, when their capsules are ripe, objects
altogether unique in the arboricultural world. Though
be as hardy as the common or the Norway map e these species are commonly seen as shrubs drawn up among
grtdStoS&dfiS North America, it iAs yet others, ov growing in hedge^ and forming bushe^perhaps
» _ - " • T-* r I ^ I "NT w.rr-. IT w-iorVIo A - nlti"*
scarcely known in Europe. The Norway maple, A. p^-
tanoides, is so hardy that it might almost be considered as
a timber-tree ; but being inferior in this respect to the com¬
mon maple, it, and its different varieties, are more genera -
ly to be ranked as ornamental. The sugar maple, •
saccharinum, in Britain, is one of the most tender Norti
American maples ; it bears a close resemblance to the J. o -
way maple, and, like it, its foliage dies oft o a very ric i
yellow. A. obtusatum, a native of Hungary and of Cala¬
bria, is a remarkably fine vigorous-growing tree, bearing
a considerable resemblance to the sycamore, Acer 1 seu-
do-Platanus. A. Opalus is a very handsome small tree,
with round, coriaceous leaves, finely cut at the edges, us
tree is little known and seldom planted, though few o -
jects are better adapted for a small lawn. The round
cuts aiC UCUtCi —   . r
plaited-leaved maple, A. circinatum, is a rare species from
North America; but one of great beauty of foliage, and
apparently quite hardy. A. Monspessulanum is a small tree
of great beauty, and in some situations sub-evergreen, i lie
common or field maple, A. campestre, is one of the hardiest
and most beautiful of small British trees: the most orna¬
mental tree of this species is the Austrian variety, A. cam¬
pestre Austriacum, Arb. Hr it., which forms a beautiful single
object on a lawn, and also very good garden hedges. I he
Negundo, or box-elder, Negundo fraxinifolium, Dec., a na¬
tive of North America, is a beautiful tree,.with its leaves
cut in the manner of those of the ash, and a fine, smooth, dark-
green bark. The foliage, when it first appears, is of a fine
yellow, and when mature it is of a pale green. It is a de¬
sirable object, as a single tree, or in the margin of planta¬
tions. The different species or varieties of the horse-chest¬
nut are all trees remarkable for the beauty of their foliage,
but more especially for that of their flowers. 1 he common
species is known to every one, but the scarlet and red
flowered varieties, and the yellow and pale flowered kinds,
all comparatively of recent introduction, only require to be
seen to be ardently desired by all lovers of trees. The
pavias, or smooth-fruited horse-chestnuts, are much smaller
trees than the rough-fruited kinds, and they are all ex¬
tremely beautiful. P. rubra, flava, discolor, hybrida, ne-
glecta, macrocarpa, and macrostachya, deserve to be in
every collection. Koelreuteria paniculata, a native of Chi¬
na, is a hardy tree, very ornamental from its foliage as well
as its flowers. There are fine specimens both in England
and Ireland, yet the tree is not generally met with in plea¬
sure-grounds. The toothache-tree, Xanthoxylum fraxi-
neum, is a small tree or large shrub, a native of North
America, hardy and ornamental both from its foliage and
flowers. The same may be said of the shrubby trefoil,
Ptelea trifoliata. The ailanto, Ailantus glandulosa, is a
native of China, but perfectly hardy in most parts of Eng¬
land. It forms a stately tree of the first rank, with a straight
trunk, ample head, and magnificent foliage, the leaves,
which are compound, being sometimes three feet in length.
In some parts of France it is planted as a timber-tree, and
is found to thrive particularly well on chalky soils. The
bladder-nut tree, Staphylea, Z., is a hardy bush, which
may be trained to a very handsome low tree, ornamental
from its foliage, its white flowers, and its curious blad¬
der-like capsules. There are two species, S. trifoliata and
S. pinnata, both deserving a place in the shrubbery. The
spindle-tree, Enonymus, Z., is a genus of which there
are several species, quite hardy, and singularly ornamental
when in fruit. The common spindle-tree, E. Europseus,
not more than six or eight feet in height, yet, when pro¬
perly treated, they will form trees thirty feet high, as may
be seen in some of the London gardens, and even as far
north as Forfarshire, where the spindle-tree produces a
timber much sought after by coopers. The different va¬
rieties of the common holly are so well known for the
beauty of their foliage, that the reader only requires to be
reminded of them. The Minorca holly, Ilex balearica,
and the opake-leaved holly, I. opaca, are very handsome
kinds, which ought not to be forgotten. The winter-berry,
Prinos, is a deciduous shrub, a native of North America,
which, like the holly, produces fine scarlet berries, and re¬
tains them through the winter. There are several species,
all quite hardy, and one or more of them deserve a place
in every collection. Chrisfis thorn, Paliurus aculeatus, is
a native of Asia, and is used as a hedge-plant in the north
of Italy. It is altogether a most elegant bush or tree, there
being something quite unique in its branches, bark, and
thorns, which are very numerous ; and in its leaves, flowers,
and seeds. The buckthorn, Rhamnus, is a hardy genus of
shrubs or low trees, of which there are many species ; but
we shall confine ourselves to those which are decidedly
hardy. Rhamnus Alaternus is a well-known evergreen, of
which there are varieties having broad and narrow leaves,
and leaves blotched or variegated with yellow, and also
with white. R. hybridus, a native of France, is a sub¬
evergreen, resembling the alaternus. R. catharticus, the
purging buckthorn of Britain, and the white thorn of the
modern Greeks, forms a very hardy and handsome small
tree. R. alnifolius, alpinus, and frangula, are also very
handsome small trees ; and there are several other species
which, if they can be procured, well deserve a place in the
shrubbery. R. latifolius, a native of the Azores, is a very
handsome kind, and quite hardy both in the gardens of
London and Edinburgh. The different species of rhus are
very hardy and very ornamental. R. Cotinus is a particu¬
larly interesting object when its seeds are ripe. R. typhi-
na, viridiflora, and glabra, are curious from the stag’s-
horn appearance of the ends of the branches ; and their
leaves, before they drop, assume a fine yellow, rich scarlet,
or dark-red hue. Sophora Japonica forms a splendid tree
in the climate of London, and there is a pendulous-bianch-
ed variety which is very ornamental. One property of this
tree is, that in dry and warm seasons, when the leaves of
most other trees become of a paler green than usual, those of
this tree assume a darker hue. Virgilia lutea is a Nort
American tree, with fine large foliage, hardy in most parts
of Britain ; and, in America, valued for the yellow colour
of its wood. The laburnum has already been mentioned
both as a useful and an ornamental tree. The purple la¬
burnum is a hybrid between the Scotch laburnum and the
Cytisus purpureus, of vigorous growth, but more curious
than beautiful. Robinia viscosa is a variety of the fa se
acacia, or locust-tree, with a glutinous bark, and flowers
slightly tinged with pink. It is a beautiful object, both in
foliage and when in blossom, and is as hardy as the com¬
mon robinia or locust. There are a number of other va¬
rieties of Robinia pseud-acacia, and in particular the pa¬
rasol-acacia, all of which are very ornamental. The rose-
acacia, Robinia hispida, of which there are several varieties,
is highly prized for its rose-coloured flowers. The Sibe¬
rian pea-tree, Caragana arborescens, and a number of other
varieties or species of Caragana, are all very ornamental,
and quite hardy; and the same may be said of the salt-
Planting-
planting.
^ tree, Halimodendron, and of the different species of Coin,
tea, or bladder-senna. The three-thorned Gleditschia, or
honey-locust, Gleditschia, L., is a genus of which there
aie seven species in cultivation in British nurseries, besides
varieties. Some of the Gleditschias attain the size of trees
or the first rank, and others are middle-sized or small trees;
but they are all deserving of culture, on account of the
beauty of their foliage, and their very remarkable spines.
Ihe Kentucky coffee-tree, Gymnocladus Canadensis, is a
curious-looking object in winter; but in summer it is cloth¬
ed with a magnificent foliage. It is a native of Canada,
easily propagated by cuttings of the roots, and consequently
hardy enough for any part of Great Britain; though, strange
as it may appear, it is far from being common in collections.
Ihe Judas trees, Cercis Siliquastrum and Canadensis, are
very handsome small trees, both when in leaf and in flower;
t ie flowers have an agreeable acid, and they are used in Pa¬
ris m salads, and fried in batter for fritters. The almond, the
peach, the apricot, the plum, and the cherry, in their single
or comparatively wild state, and also the varieties of these
species having double flowers, are fine ornamental objects
m plantations or on lawns, and are quite hardy. Cerasus
semperflorens and serrulata, the Allsaint, and Chinese double-
blossomed cherries, are very desirable ornamental trees.
I he perfumed cherry, Cerasus mahaleb, is a most valuable
tree, coming early into flower, diffusing its odour in every
direction, and soon afterwards becoming covered with ber¬
ries, which are generally of a glossy black, but in some va¬
rieties yellow. The bird-cherry, Cerasus padus, is a na¬
tive of the woods both of Scotland and Sweden, and one
of the most ornamental of low trees when in flower. Its
beautiful spikes of white blossoms are succeeded by black
or red fruit, which is very ornamental wdiile it remains on
the tree, but when ripe is soon devoured by birds, by whom
it is greedily sought after. The Cornwall bird-cherry, Ce¬
rasus padus rubra, and the pendulous branched bird-cherry,
Cerasus padus bracteosa, are interesting varieties. C. Vir-
giniana, serotina, and capollin, are species of bird-cherry
resembling one another, surpassing the European bird-cherry
m the smoothness and glossiness of their foliage, and equal¬
ing it in the beauty and profusion of their flowers. C. Vir-
giniana is so hardy, and produces fruit in such abundance,
that in some parts of England it may be considered as
naturalized, having come up in the native copses from
seeds carried thither by the birds from artificial planta¬
tions. . There are about twenty other species of Cerasus,
all quite hardy; and though some of them are of very
humble growth, and adapted for planting on the faces of
rocks, rather than amongst other shrubs, yet they are all
deserving of culture.
The genus Crataegus consists of twenty-eight species, and
about double that number of varieties, each of which forms
a beautiful small tree. There is not perhaps any other ge¬
nus of hardy ligneous plants in which so many beautiful
small trees are to be found. They are all remarkable for
having an irregular, picturesque character of outline, and
for assuming this character at the growth of even five or six
years. They all come into flower at an early age, produce
flowers profusely, and all ripen abundance of fruit. The
flowers are, for the most part, white and fragrant, but in
some varieties they are tinged with red and purple ; and in
one, the scarlet hawthorn, C. oxyacantha rosea, they are of
a fine rose colour. The flowers appear at various periods
from March till the middle of July; and one variety, the
Glastonbury thorn, often comes into bloom at Christmas.
I he earliest flowering species are Crataegus purpurea and
nigra, and the latest C. cordifolia and Virginica. The colour
o the fruit is for the most part red, as in the common haw¬
thorn ; but in some it is yellow, as in C. Aronia; black, as
m C. nigra; or greenish-yellow, as in C. Mexicana. In C.
coccinea the fruit is large, and of a scarlet colour. In C.
763
Douglasn it b of rich glossy purple-black; and in C.orien- Planting.
tabs sanguine*, Brit., it is of an intensely deep port-1 A-
wme colour. Of the common hawthorn of our hedges C
oxyacantha, Z., there are no fewer than thirty recognised
varieties, each of which would form a very beautiful and
distinct tree. One of the varieties has the fruit white, an¬
other has double white flowers, another, C. oxyacantha
p icemcea flore pleno, double red, another a fine single pink.
One has black fruit, another yellow, and a third white. In
one the entire tree takes the upright narrow form of a cy¬
press, and in another the branches are pendulous, like those
of the weeping willow; one has leaves like those of the oak,
another leaves like those of the fern, and so on. All the
species of Crataegus may be readily propagated by grafting
them on the common thorn, by which means, when stocks
standard high are used, they become trees fit for planting
out where they are finally to remain, at the end of the third
season. Ihe species may be propagated either by grafting,
by seeds, or by cuttings of the roots. Much o?name£
rmght be conferred on the country, and especially on the
roads which pass through a hedged estate, if the proprietor
were to allow some thorns in his hedgerows to grow to the
average height of two or three feet above the top of the hedge,
and at that height to bud, or graft these with some of the
more tree-growing of the ornamental species. Cotoneaster
higida, afhms, acuminata, and nummularia, are Nepaul small
trees of very great beauty, both on account of their foliage
anti their fruit; so much so, that though we have already
mentioned them under the head of sub-evergreens, we have
lere repeated their names. Amelanchier vulgaris, Botry-
apmm, sanguinea, ovalis, and florida, are very beautiful low
trees, which bear a profusion of white flowers early in spring
and are succeeded by brown or black berries, which, thouMi
commonly left to the birds, are not disagreeable to eat.
I he common medlar, and Smith’s medlar, Mespilus Smithii,
nee., M. grandiflora, Hort, are ornamental trees: the former
is valued also for its fruit, and the latter for the profusion of
white blossoms with which it is covered in April. There are
a great many very ornamental species and varieties of the ge¬
nus Byrus, which is now so far extended as to include species
tormerly considered as belonging to Sorbus, Cratmgus, Mes-
pilus, &c P. nivalis, sinaica, salicifolia, elseagnifolia, and
amygdahformis, may be considered as white woolly-leaved
varieties of the common wild pear, and P. sinensis as a distinct
variety of the common cultivated pear. P Bollwylliana ap¬
pears to be a hybrid between the apple or crab, and Pyrus
Ana. P. variolosa, a native of Nepaul, is a remarkable tree,
with leaves sometimes like those of the common cultivated
anfI.at °ther times cut, like those of Pyrus spuria sambu-
cifoha. Pyrus prunifolia, baccata, and Astracanica, are crab-
apples with handsome blossoms and small beautiful fruit; and
there are a number of sub-varieties, which may be obtained in
the nurseries. Among these, the white astracan or transparent
crab of Moscow, the supreme crab, and Biggs’s everlasting
crab, deserve the preference. P. coronaria, and P. angus-
tifoha, are American wild apples, with sweet-scented flowers.,
I. spectabilis, a native of China, but quite hardy, is remark¬
able for its showy pink and white blossoms, which are pro¬
duced m great profusion. P. Aria, the white-beam tree, and
all its varieties, deserve culture, as compact, low, or small
tiees ; P. vestita, a native of Nepaul, is remarkable for its
large woolly foliage, which dies off of a fine yellow. P. tor-
minahs, though indigenous, is a most ornamental tree. Py¬
rus Sorbus, and all its different varieties, are very ornamental.
P;yrus spuria, a native of Kamtschatka, forms a very beau¬
tiful little tree, with a profusion of w hite flowers and black
fruit; and Pyrus arbutifolia, Mespilus arbutifolia, Z. with
its vanetms, melanocarpa, floribunda, and depressa, are beau¬
tiful low shrubs, and, when grafted standard high on the
common thorn, form very ornamental objects, whether in
blossom, when covered with their fine dark fruit, or when
764 PLAN
Planting, their leaves are dying off, and have become of an intensely
dark red, shaded with yellow and purple.
The common and Chinese quinces form handsome low
trees ; the former more particularly so when in flower and
fruit, and the latter when in full leaf. The Japan quince,
Cydonia Japonica (Pyrus Japonica, Z.), is well known as
one of the most ornamental spring-flowering shrubs in cul¬
tivation. Hamamelis Virginica, the Wych hazel, is valu¬
able from its beginning to flower in November, and retain¬
ing its blossoms till February or March: though rarely seen
in collections, it is very hardy, and forms a very handsome
small tree. The different species of dogwood are ornamen¬
tal, and, with the exception of C. florida, quite hardy. C.
alba sibirica has the shoots of a fine scarlet colour, and is
singularly ornamental in the winter season. The common
elder, Sambucus nigra, will thrive, and form a handsome
low tree, in a variety of situations, where many other trees
and shrubs will scarcely grow: on a mountain side, and in
the coal-smoke of cities or factories. There is a very hand¬
some variety with cut leaves, one with white fruit, and. ano¬
ther with green fruit. S. racemosa is a native of Spain,
which grows vigorously in this country. The leaves are
finely cut; and the fruit, with which it is generally pro¬
fusely covered, is of the most brilliant scarlet: being very
little known among gardeners, it is scarcely ever seen in
collections. The different species of Viburnum are hardy,
and all more or less ornamental, both when in flower and in
fruit. The leaves also die off of a fine yellow-red, some¬
times tinged with purple. V. Lentago, pyrifolium, prunifo-
lium, and nudum, when trained to a single stem, form com¬
pact-growing, neat, little trees. The common wayfaring
tree, V. Lantana, and the American wayfaring tree, V. lan-
tanoides, form very neat bushes. V. Opulus is well known
as the Guelder rose; and the American variety, V. O.oxy-
coccos, has fruit as large as the cranberry, which is used
in America for the same purpose; as is the fruit of V. O.
edule, another American variety. The fly-honeysuckle,
Lonicera xylosteum, and the Alpine upright honeysuckle,
Lonicera alpigena, are the only two species which are suffi¬
ciently woody and large to be noticed in this selection ; the
other species belong to flowering shrubs. The snow-drop
tree, Halesia tetraptera, is one of the hardiest of North
American trees, and, when in flower, one of the most beau¬
tiful : it ripens abundance of seeds in this country, by which
it is readily propagated; so much so, that in some parts of
England it is, like the American bird-cherry, naturalized
in the copses. It is rarely to be met with in Scotland,
though few trees so well adapted for the climate of that
country are so ornamental. The date-plum, Diospyros Lo¬
tus, though it ripens fruit as a standard in the climate of
London, is perhaps rather tender for the northern coun¬
ties ; but where the climate is moderate, it forms a very
beautiful small tree. The Virginian snow-flower, or fringe-
tree, Chionanthus Virginica, is nearly as hardy as the snow¬
drop tree ; and when planted in a moist soil, and trained to
a single stem, its head is ornamental from its large, deep-
green foliage, independently of the fine, white, fringe-like
flowers which are suspended from the axils of the leaves.
The common purple and the common white lilacs, Syringa
vulgaris, and S. vulgaris alba, are very hardy, and make
very neat small trees when trained to a single stem. The
common ash is the parent of several varieties which are
very ornamental. One of the oldest of these is the simple¬
leaved ash, of which there is a variety lately discovered in
Ireland, with the leaves variegated. The pendulous-
branched or weeping ash is a well-known variety, as are
the yellow barked and the striped barked. There are se¬
veral other varieties not in our opinion worth cultivating,
though from these we except F. excelsior parvifolia, F. e.
p. argentia, and F. e. p. oxycarpa. The lentiscus-leaved
ash, F. Lentiscifolia, is an elegant tree; and there is a pen-
TING.
dulous variety of it, which forms by far the most graceful Planting,
tree of the genus. There are several species or varieties of
American ash, very ornamental in their foliage, most of
them hardy in the climate of London, but few of them
adapted for the northern counties. The flowering ash, Or-
nus Europaea, is a very handsome tree, nearly as hardy as
the common ash, and it ought on no account to be omitted
in ornamental plantations. Few trees have a finer effect
when standing singly on a lawn. Catalpa syringaefolia is a
splendid tree when in flower: it attains the height of thirty
or forty feet, and sometimes ripens its seeds in the climate
of London; but in the northern counties it seldom does
much good. It is one of those trees which will bear an
immense deal of cold in winter, provided there has been
heat and bright sunshine enough in summer to ripen its
wood. The tupelo tree, Nyssa, is nearly as hardy as
the Diospyros Lotus, and is more beautiful than that tree
in autumn, when its leaves change to an intensely deep
rich scarlet. The Oleaster or wild olive, and the Hud¬
son’s Bay olive, Elseagnus hortensis and argentea, are hand¬
some silvery-leaved low trees ; the former, however, rather
tender, and the latter rather shrubby. The sea-buckthorn
is a very handsome and a very hardy willow-leaved little tree,
which has the great advantage of standing the sea-breeze
without injury. Hippophae salicifolia, a native of the moun¬
tains of Nepaul, is of more vigorous growth than the Euro¬
pean sea-buckthorns, and appears to be nearly as hardy as
they are. Shepherdia argentea, the Missouri silver-tree, is
an elegant silvery-leaved tree, a native of North America,
where it produces an edible fruit: it forms a suitable com¬
panion to Hippophae and Elaeagnus, which are also more or
less silvery in their foliage. The black, the white, the red,
and the tartarian mulberries, are all ornamental trees, but
rather tender in the northern counties. The paper mul¬
berry, Broussonetia papyrifera, is an interesting object, but
more tender than the common mulberry. Maclura auran-
tiaca, the American bow-wood, or Osage orange, is a tree
of very vigorous growth in the climate of London; but as
it continues growing till late in the season, its wood is
often not ripened so far as the points of the shoots, and
the tree is therefore probably unfit for those parts of the
island where the atmosphere is almost constantly charged
with fog. The elm comprises many ornamental species
and varieties. Of the English or narrow-leaved elm, those
which we prefer are U. campestris viminalis, U. c. foliis
variegatis, and U. c. virens. U. c. planifolia, and U. c. chi-
nensis, are very beautiful as elms, but difficult to procure.
Ulmus effusa is, in our opinion, by far the handsomest spe¬
cies of the European elms when it is in a young state ; but
it does not grow up to a handsome tree. The most beau¬
tiful variety of Scotch elm is the weeping elm, Ulmus
montana pendula, which is remarkable for the vigour of its
growth, and the picturesque manner in which its branches
are thrown about. There are some American elms which
are tolerably hardy in the climate of London, but which
cannot be recommended for colder districts. Planera Ri-
chardi is an Asiatic tree, and attains the first rank even in
the climate of London, where it sometimes ripens seeds;
it deserves a place along with the elms, and along with the
southern and eastern nettle-trees, Celtis australis and four-
nefortii. The common walnut-tree, Juglans regia, though
it becomes a tree of the first rank in the climate of Lon¬
don, and is cultivated for its fruit both there and in Devon¬
shire, yet in the north has generally the points of its young
shoots blackened by the spring frosts. Of the willow there
are a great many species and varieties, all of which are
highly ornamental when in flower. Of these we may re¬
commend the almond-leaved willow, S. amygdalina; the
sweet-scented bay-leaved willow, S. pentandra; the weep¬
ing willow, S. Babylonica; the golden willow, S. vitellina;
and the purple-barked willow, S. atropurpurea. The pop-
enus contains several ornamental species. The first we
shall mention is Populus tremula grandidentata, Arb. Brit.,
the Worth American large aspen, of which there is a pen¬
dulous branched variety. P. heterophylla is an American
poplar, little known and rarely met with in British nur¬
series. I he balsam poplar, P. balsamifera, is one of the
earliest trees, which sends out its leaves in spring; and it
and the Lomcera Tatarica, in the climate of London, are
tound clothed with leaves a week or a fortnight sooner
than any other tree or shrub whatever. The leaves of the
balsam poplar, when they first come out, are of a rich yel¬
low, and they perfume the air with their fragrance for
some distance around ; as the summer advances, they be¬
come darker, till in the autumn they are of a black or
bluish green. It may give some idea of the extreme har¬
diness of this tree to mention, that Captain Franklin found
it as far north as the Great Slave Lake; and that the great
est part °f the drift-timber which he observed on the shores
ot the Arctic Sea was of this species. It is one of those
poplars that send up suckers, and it is consequently readily
propagated by cuttings of the roots. It prefers a moist soil,
and though the Cree name for this species means ugly pop¬
lar, yet when full grown on such a soil, it forms a very
massive round-headed tree, which at a distance might be
mistaken for an oak or a chestnut, as is proved by two fine
specimens in the grounds at Syon. The Ontario poplar,
-f. candicans, bears a close general resemblance to the bal¬
sam poplar; it has the rigid fastigiate habit of that tree,
the same habit of sending out its foliage before all other
poplars, its hue fragrance, and its property of throwing up
suckers from the roots; but it differs from the balsam
poplar in having very large heart-shaped leaves. It is ra¬
ther more difficult to propagate than the balsam poplar,
and, in British nurseries, is commonly raised from layers.
Ihe genus Alnus, the alder, contains some very ornamen¬
tal trees. A. glutinosa laciniata has finely-cut foliage, and,
w lat is remarkable, is in general a more free-growing tree
than the species. A. cordifolia is a native of Calabria, and
by tar the handsomest species of the genus. We have al¬
ready mentioned it as probably fit to be grown for its tim-
ber. A. incana, the hoary-leaved alder, is a very handsome
tree, and has the advantage of preferring dry soil. A. oblon¬
gata, serrulata, undulata, and viridis, are low trees or large
shrubs, quite hardy, and deserving of introduction into col¬
lections. The birch is a genus of which the greater number
of species are natives of North America; and, though they
are valuable timber-trees there, none of them in this coun¬
try have yet proved anything more than ornamental. The
finest Amencan species is B. nigra, distinguished by the
beautiful paper-white of its bark, which cracks, separates
into thin laminae, and rolls up, even when the tree is young
and only two or three inches in diameter. B. populifolia is
a handsome species, very much resembling the common
birch, and in our opinion only a variety of it, as are B. pu-
bescens, urticifolia, pontica, Darlecarlica, and others. There
is a cut-leaved, pendulous variety of the common birch, which
is very ornamental. The paper-birch, B. papyracea, is a
hne tree; as are B. glandulosa and B. Diiurica. B. fruticosa
pumila, and nana, are shrubs.
Of oaks there are upwards of forty species introduced
into British gardens; the greater number of them, with many
varieties, being purchasable in British nurseries. All these,
W p f ?XC^tl0n of> the two varieties of the common
oak and the Turkey oak, may be considered as solely or
principally ornamental. Of the common oak, Q. pedun-
culata, there are three varieties, very distinctly marked,
n i CiyFeSS ^ a P‘ fastiSiata 5 ^e weeping oak, Q.
ThS a’ and t-He cut-leaved oak, Q. p. heterophylla.
raised from ripen aCOrns’ and of the Plants
hlifiT V "Tber are found t0 have the same
habit as the parent. There are several varieties of Q. ses-
PLANTING.
765
ofth7iJlCh- ^ ^ the °f the aC0rns’ in the size Planting,
of the leaves, in the greater or lesser degree in which these'
are cut, and in the presence or absence of pubescence •
none of these varieties, however, have yet been propagated
by the nurseryman, excepting Q. s. pubescens. The Py-
renaean oak, Q. Pyrenaica, is a very handsome and distinct
species, of low growth. Q. Apennina is also a low tree. Q.
Lsculus, the Italian oak, is a tree under the middle size,
w iich thrives well, and ripens its acorns in the climate of
London: there are fine specimens at Whitton Park. Of the
I urkey oak, Quercus Cerris, there are ten or twelve very
distinct varieties The first of these is the pendulous va-
nndVi1! neXt ?e then the Ragnal, the Fulham,
and the Lucombe. Of the latter there are five very distinct
sub-varieties, all sub-evergreen, and all well deserving of
culture wherever the common Turkey oak will thrive.
Ouercus Aigilops, the Veloma oak, thrives in the climate of
London ; but is probably too tender for the northern coun-
ties. The American oaks, which are deciduous, may be
classed as the white, red, black, and willow oaks. The white
oak best worth cultivating in Britain as an ornamental tree
1S, i ru ollvseformis and macrocarpa are remark¬
able for their fruit, and Q. obtusifolia and lyrata for their
leaves. The chestnut oak, Q. Prinus, and its several va¬
rieties, also deserve culture: the leaves of these oaks re¬
semble those of the sweet chestnut, and the species is to
the other deciduous American oaks what Q. sessiliflora is to
the deciduous oaks of Europe. Q. alba bears the closest
resemblance to Q.. pedunculata, and may be considered as
being the American form of that species. All the red oaks
are beautiful in the form and colour of their foliage; and
some of them attain the size of timber-trees in Britain,
though their wood is of little value either here or in Ame¬
rica. Q rubra, and coccinea, and tinctoria (the Quercitron1),
are perhaps the most ornamental; and Q. palustris is the
hardiest, the most rapid growing, and the handsomest in
point of general form. The black American oaks are all
remarkable trees. The black-jack oak, Q. nigra, L., is the
most extraordinary species, from the very singular form of
its leaves; and next to it is Q. aquatica. Q. illicifolia, he¬
terophylla, and agrifolia, belong to this division. The willow
oaks Q Phellos, imbricata, and laurifolia, have entire leaves,
which die off without changing colour; and this group may
least ornamental of the American oaks.
The American hornbeam, Carpinus Americana, and the
common and Virginian hop hornbeams, Ostyra vulgaris and
Virgimca, deserve a place in collections, more especially the
h°rnbeams, from the singular appearance of their fruit.
Of the common hazel there are some ornamental varieties,
&uch as that with purple leaves, and another with cut leaves,
ihe Constantinople hazel, Corylus Colurna, forms a very
handsome middle-sized tree; and C. rostrata and Ameri¬
cana are hardy, and well deserving a place in ornamental
plantations. I he oriental and occidental planes are highly
ornamental trees of the first rank, and Platanus Orientalis
acerifolia, Brit., and P. O. cuneata, Arb. Brit., are
fine varieties, the latter forming a curiously-twisted low tree.
Ihe Liquidambar is a splendid tree, remarkable for the
beauty of its foliage and its refreshing fragrance. Liquid¬
ambar imberbe is a small tree, also very ornamental. The
Ginkgo or maidenhair tree, Salisburia adiantifolia, Sm., is
r^™arka ) e *°r the singularity of its foliage : it is a native
of China, but is quite hardy in most parts of Britain; and
it is propagated without difficulty by cuttings made in au¬
tumn. Of the larch there are some species and several
varieties, which are chiefly ornamental; those best deserv¬
ing of culture are L. Europaea pendula, L. Americana pen-
dula, and L. Americana rubra. The deciduous cypress is
rather tender in the northern parts of the island ; but in the
climate of London, when planted where its roots are with-
n reach of water, it forms a magnificent tree of the first rank.
766
Planting.
PLANTING.
III. The Nursery Culture of Trees.
We have now gone through the whole of the hardy
trees and shrubs of Britain, and have indicated those which
we think best deserving of culture, where the objects are
either timber-produce or general effect, and where no ex¬
traordinary care is proposed to be bestowed on the soil.
The reader cannot fail to be surprised at the very small
number of species which merit to be planted for the sake
of their timber, and at the great number which we have
enumerated as ornamental. That number would have been
more than doubled had we included the flowering shrubs,
and such foreign trees and shrubs as will only thrive in the
southern parts of the island; but we have confined our¬
selves as much as possible to those which will thrive both
in the climate of London and in that of Edinburgh, it
must be recollected that all the ornamental trees produce
timber of some sort; and some of them, such as the box,
crab, common maple, &c., timber of considerable value.
Every ornamental tree, therefore, may be considered a
useful tree, even with respect to the wood which it pro¬
duces ; though, from the length of time it takes to produce
that wood, it may not be a profitable tree to cultivate for
that purpose. Having treated on the trees worth cultivat¬
ing, we shall now enter on the subject of their cultivation.
The cultivation of trees and shrubs includes their propa¬
gation and rearing in the nursery, and their culture and
management in plantations.
Nursery Culture.—A nursery is any plot of ground de¬
voted to the propagation and rearing of trees and shrubs.
To be perfect, it ought to contain the principal kinds of
soil in which trees and shrubs grow, and to possess dif¬
ferent climates, according to the countries of which the
plants are natives; but as these requisites cannot be al¬
ways obtained, particularly with respect to climate, all that
art can do is to make the nearest approach to them that
circumstances will admit. It may be laid down as a gene¬
ral principle, that all seeds will germinate, and all plants
grow, in any kind of soil whatever, provided it contain
some vegetable matter, be in a state of minute division,
and be retentive, to a certain extent, of water. All plants,
therefore, may be reared in a nursery containing only one
kind of soil; but in such a nursery all will not be equally
well reared ; for some plants, such as all those which have
hair-like roots (as the ericaceae, including the heaths, rho¬
dodendrons, arbutuses, &c.), and in general all that are
called peat-earth plants, will only thrive in a peaty-soil;
or a soil composed of a mixture of very fine sand, and
thoroughly decomposed leaves, or woody matter. Other
plants, such as all those which attain a large size, and have
strong tap-roots, will only thrive in deep loams or in deep
fertile sands, though they will grow for a time very wrell
in peat. A nursery, therefore, that contains the three lead¬
ing soils of sand, loam, and peat, will suffice for all the
purposes for which the most extensive nursery can be re¬
quired ; and, for raising such trees and shrubs as have been
treated of in this article, a piece of ground containing sandy
loam in one place, and clayey loam in another, or even
sandy loam throughout, will be quite sufficient, as far as re¬
gards soil. With respect to climate, all the deficiencies
which can occur in Britain may be made up by glazed
frames, in which the more tender kinds can be raised ; and
in which those which are grown in pots can be kept through
the winter. A nursery may be considered in two points
of view: with reference to the nurserymen, and with re¬
ference to the climate and soil where the trees are finally
to be planted. As matters stand at present, it is the inte¬
rest of the nurseryman to have his nursery in a fine cli¬
mate, and in deep, fertile soil, in order that he may raise
large vigorous plants in the shortest possible period : but
it is the interest of the purchaser to have the plants reared
in a climate and soil inferior to that into which they are to Planting,
be transplanted; because, when this is done, instead of^^v—'
the plants receiving a check from the operation of trans¬
planting, as is usually the case, they will be improved by
it. It is the interest of the nurseryman to have his nur¬
sery trenched and manured to the depth of two or three
feet; in order that it may contain abundance of nourish¬
ment, and be retentive of moisture during the summer sea¬
son, so as to cause the plants to produce long and vigorous
shoots. On the other hand, it is the interest of the pur¬
chaser that the soil should not be cultivated to more than
eight or ten inches in depth, in order that the nourishment
and the moisture, and consequently the roots, may be con¬
centrated in a very limited space ; so that, when the plants
are taken up, the whole of the roots may be taken up with
them, which, where the ground has been trenched, is im¬
possible, from the great depth to which they will have pe¬
netrated. It is for the interest of the nurseryman that the
summer should be moist, in order that the shoots produced
may be long and strong; but it is for the interest of the
purchaser that the summer should be dry, in order that
the shoots may be short, and thoroughly ripened; and that
the roots should cease to grow early in the autumn, in
order that their spongioles, having had time to harden,
which they cannot do till they have ceased elongating,
may receive the less injury when the plants are taken up.
In short, it is the interest of the purchaser to concentrate
all the forces of the plant within such limits as he can tho¬
roughly command, that is, can take up and carry away.
The advantages of then sowing and planting to the planter,
therefore, are obvious, though the reverse is for the inte¬
rest of the nurseryman ; as by thick planting the plants are
drawn up taller and straighter, and a greater number will
grow on a given surface. We are fully aware of the argu¬
ments which are opposed to this doctrine by nurserymen ;
viz. that the stronger a plant is, and the greater the num¬
ber of its fibrous roots, the more likely will it be to succeed
after being transplanted to a new situation; and that this
strength of shoot, and abundance of fibrous roots, can only
be produced in deep, rich soil. But we deny that this vi¬
gorous appearance in the shoots of plants is strength; and
assert that, so far from a deep soil being favourable to the
production of fibrous roots, it is directly the reverse. The
strength of a plant, and its suitableness for being removed
from one situation to another, and for growing vigorously
after it is removed, consists in all its parts having arrived
at maturity, in the thorough ripening of its wood, and in
the completely dormant state of its fibrous roots ; and these
requisites, we assert, can only be obtained by concentrating
the nourishment contained in the soil into a limited space,
by the soil being compact, and by no more moisture being
admitted to the roots than what is absolutely necessary to
complete the growth of the season in sufficient time to allow
of the thorough ripening of the young wood. If by any
mode of culture these requisites can be obtained, together
with the long and thick shoots which are produced by
growing the plants in deep, rich soil, so much the better;
but we contend, that, in the climate of Britain, this is im¬
possible. If the purchasers of plants in nurseries will ob¬
serve what takes place in the case of layers, as in those of the
elm, the lime, the platanus, the white poplar, the vine, &c.
they will see the justice of our statement. Such layers made
in spring have generally at the end of the season shoots
of three or more feet in length, which have continued
growing till they were checked by frost; the consequence
of which is, that neither the wood nor the fibrous shoots
have ripened. The first year after removal, such plants
make scarcely any growth ; and if they survive the first
year, it requires two or three years more before they are
firmly established. Nearly the same thing may be said of
almost all one-year grafted or budded fruit-trees, which, hav-
PLAN
Planting, ing seldom ripened their wood thoroughly, from being plant-
^ ed in deeply trenched rich soil, and half of their roots hav¬
ing been left in the ground after they are taken up, are con¬
sequently obliged to be cut in when planted. These conside¬
rations show, as a general principle, the advantage of grow¬
ing all plants that are to be transplanted, in such a manner
as that they may thoroughly ripen their wood and roots,
and so that the whole of the roots may be taken up with
the plant. On a large scale, the only mode of effecting
this is by having the soil shallow and rich, but not too
moist. On a small scale, the same end is attained in a
very complete manner by growing the plants in pots; and,
were it not for the expense, this would be the best mode
of growing all nursery articles. The plants, however, should
not be kept too long in pots, because, when so treated,
many species, after a time, acquire a stunted habit, and the
roots, when the tree is transplanted, instead of being in a
state to allow of their being unwound from the ball, and
stretched out in lines radiating in every direction from the
stool, are so long and slender, and the circulation through
them is so languid, that they require to be cut off or short¬
ened. In general, it may be observed, that a weak plant,
with the wood and roots thoroughly ripened, is much more
likely to thrive when transplanted, than a strong one from
which a great part of the roots have been cut off; and
hence, of two young Huntingdon elms, budded on the
Scotch elm, one of which had been grown in a pot, and had
its leading shoot only two feet long, and another which had
been grown in the free soil, and had its leading shoot five
or six feet long, as is often the case—the former, when
transplanted where it was finally to remain, would far
sooner attain the height of twenty or thirty feet than the
latter. We do not expect that all commercial nurserymen
will subscribe to these opinions, but private gentlemen
who raise their own trees will find it their interest to at¬
tend to them. Hence those who plant in mountainous
districts will always find it better to have their nurseries on
the sides of the mountains than in the valleys.
Propagation.—drees, like other plants, are chiefly pro¬
pagated by seeds; but they are also increased by cuttings,
layers, budding, and grafting. The timber-trees of all
countries are raised from seeds, with the exception of a
very few, such as the poplar and the willow, which are
raised from cuttings; and some species of elms, limes, and
a few others, which are raised from layers, or by grafting.
The greater number of ornamental trees and shrubs are
raised by some of these artificial methods ; because in this
country they seldom ripen seeds, and because varieties
are always perpetuated by artificial modes. Thus, all the
American oaks are, or may be, grafted on the common
British oak. Most of the foreign acers and birches are
raised by layers, most of the ornamental thorns by budding
and grafting, and almost all the ornamental willows and
poplars by cuttings. All plants which do not ripen seeds
readily are propagated by some of these artificial modes ;
and that mode is preferred by the nurseryman, which, ex¬
perience has proved, will produce the largest and most vi¬
gorous-looking plants in the shortest time. Thus, though
more suitable plants for the planter would be produced by
raising the platanus and the white poplar from cuttings,
because in that case nature would adjust the tops to the
power of the roots ; yet, as much larger plants are produ¬
ced by layers, that mode is everywhere preferred in the
commercial nurseries. The lime-tree ripens its seeds in
this country, and also the English elm ; but large plants are
much more rapidly procured in the first case by layers, and
in the second by grafting. We do not say that in every
case the mode by which the largest plants are most rapid¬
ly produced should give way to the slower mode ; but
merely that, in most cases, it would be advantageous to
the pui chaser that the slower mode should be adopted.
T 1 N G. 767
According to some writers, plants which are raised from Planting.
cuttings, or by any other mode than by seeds, are of less'''—v 
aurability than seminal plants; but though this may be
true, or appear so, in a few instances, it can never be
adopted as a general principle ; since, from all that we are
taught by physiology, a bud contains as perfect an embryo
of a plant as a seed : the only difference being, that the
bud is more powerfully imbued with the peculiarities of
the individual which produced it than the seed is. This
doctrine is confirmed by experience ; since the poplar, the
willow, the vine, &c., have been propagated by cuttings
from time immemorial, and, for any thing that is known
to the contrary, possess respectively the same properties
now that they did in the days of the Romans.
Propagating by Seeds.—T\\z seeds should be collected
from the handsomest individuals of the species, when they
are quite mature ; and they should either be sown imme¬
diately, or preserved in a place where they will undergo
few changes in regard to heat or moisture, till the proper
sowing season, which, in almost every case, will be the fol¬
lowing spring. Nature, it may be observed, sows all her
seeds soon after they are fully matured; that is, they drop
from the tree upon the ground in autumn, or the beginning
of winter, or, in the case of some trees, such as the pines
and firs, not till the following spring; but as, when seeds
are thus left to chance, the greater part of them are de¬
stroyed by vermin, by being placed in a condition not fa¬
vourable for germination, or by imperfect or premature
germination, only a moderate number of them produce
plants. It is the business of art, therefore, to study what
is favourable and unfavourable in nature’s mode of sowing
seeds, and to imitate only the former. The result of this
study is, that by far the greater number of seeds may be
kept with advantage from the time they ripen, till early in
the following spring, that is, till February or March, and
then be committed to the soil. There are a few excep¬
tions, as in the case of poplar and willow seeds, which ripen
early, and which, when sown immediately that they drop
from the tree, often come up in the course of a few weeks ;
whereas, if they are kept till the following spring, the great¬
er number do not come up at all; and also in the case of
seeds which lie two years in the ground before coming up,
such as those of the hawthorn, the holly, &c. and which
may be kept till the second spring after being ripened be¬
fore they are sown. In order to show the treatment re¬
quired for the seeds of different kinds of trees, and the
plants raised from them in the nurseries, it will be conve¬
nient to throw them into groups; and these may be as
follow: the pine and fir tribe; the trees producing nuts,
acorns, masts, and keys ; trees producing pomes with ker¬
nels, berries with stones, berries in capsules, small seeds,
leguminous seeds, and cottony or papery seeds.
Phe seeds of the pine and fir tribe ripen from October
till January, and if the cones are allowed to remain on the
tree throughout the winter, the seeds do not in general
drop out till the following April or May ; soon after which,
such of them as drop into a favourable soil, where there is
a certain degree of moisture and shade, come up in five or
six weeks. The nurseryman collects the cones of each
species immediately after they are ripe (which, with the
pinaster, and a few others, is as early as the month of Oc¬
tober), and he lays them by in a dry place till he has lei¬
sure to extract the seeds. I his he does by exposing the
cones to the heat of the sun under a glass case, by which
the heat is retained, and raised to a higher degree than
it would be in the open air; or he subjects them to ar¬
tificial heat before an open fire, or on a kiln. The seeds
when taken out, are sown in April, in soil dug over, and
rendered fine by raking ; and over them is laid a covering
of soil, which, in general, need not be deeper than the
thickness of the seed to be covered, where the soil is loamy ;
768 PLAN
Planting, but it may be twice that thickness where the soil is a
^ v ' coarse sand. In order to retain a uniform degree of mois¬
ture on the surface, the beds, after the sowing is completed,
should be shaded from the sun, by covering them slightly
with the branches of trees, and especially with those ot
evergreens, such as the spruce fir. In cold moist climates,
such as that of Aberdeen, this shading may be dispensed
with ; but in the climate of London it is, in most seasons,
essentially necessary, and may be effected by hoops and
mats, by fronds of fern, by straw, or by pea haulm. For
greater convenience, the seeds are generally sown in beds,
a slight excavation being made in the beds by drawing
some of the earth to the sides ; and in order that the seeds
may be evenly deposited on a somewhat firm surface, the
bottom of this excavation is rolled with a light roller.
After the seeds are distributed over the beds, at such dis¬
tances as that the plants, after they have come up, and
have grown to the end of the season, may not touch each
other, the beds are again rolled, and afterwards the cover¬
ing of earth is thrown over them which was drawn off be¬
fore rolling and sowing. It may be observed here, that the
rolling in of the seeds, by bringing them in close contact
with comparatively firm soil, renders a much thinner co¬
vering of earth necessary than if the seed- had been sown
on a loose surface. It is also more favourable to the vege¬
tation of the seeds ; it being found that close contact with
the soil, both in the case of seeds, and the spongioles of
the roots, is a powerful stimulus to vegetation. Some of
the more tender species of pines and firs, such as the stone
pine, the cedar of Lebanon, the cypress, &c. are commonly
sown in pots, or in flat earthen pans, for the convenience
of making them germinate under glass, and in order to
facilitate future transplantation; but the process of prepa¬
ration, sowing, and covering, is exactly the same as when
the seeds are raised in beds. The plants, after they have
come up, require nothing but the usual routine culture of
the nursery for two summers; at the end of which period
they should be taken up, and, if possible, transplanted where
they are finally to remain ; but as this cannot always be
done, the next best practice is to plant them in the nur¬
sery, either in lines, which is the most convenient mode, or
scattered over beds; in either case keeping the plants so
far apart that there may be a clear space round each plant,
of from three to six inches, according to its height and the
length of its leaves. Thus, for the Scotch pine and the
spruce fir, which grow slowly when young, and have com¬
paratively short leaves, three inches will be sufficient; whilst
for the larch, which grows rapidly the second year, and for
the pinaster, which has long leaves, six inches will be re¬
quired. Here the plants may remain another two years,
and afterwards be transplanted on the same principle ; un¬
less they are in the mean time removed to where they are
finally to remain. Unless this has been the case, they will
have little chance of doing good as timber-trees ; for expe¬
rience has proved, that after two years’ growth, or at most
four years’, all the pine and fir timber are materially checked
by transplanting ; and that this check is of a kind which
cannot, like that given to broad-leaved trees, in a similar
case, be counteracted by cutting them down to the ground ;
but, on the contrary, remains for many years, and materially
affects the future growth and habit of the tree.
Trees bearing Nuts, Acorns, Masts, Keys, fyc.—These,
on British timber-trees, ripen from October to December.
The greater part of oaks ripen their acorns in November;
but the beech, the horse-chestnut, the walnut, and the ha¬
zel, ripen their mast and nuts in October ; and most of the
sycamores and maples their keys in September. All these
seeds ought to be gathered as soon as they are ripe ; be¬
cause, as they form an important part of the food of wild
animals, the best are liable to be picked up by them as
soon as they drop. They may either be sown immediately
TING.
or kept till February, as in neither case will they come up Planting,
till April or May. They should be sown in a sandy'loam,"'v''—'
in drills, the seeds being deposited at such a distance from
each other, that the leaves of the plants springing from them
may not touch at the end of the first season; they should
be trodden into the drill with the foot, or pressed down with
the back of a wooden rake ; and they may be covered to
the depth of twice or thrice the thickness of the seed. The
reason why drills are recommended for this description of
tree-seeds is, that in the intervals between the rows, a
spade may be inserted obliquely, so as to cut through the
tap-roots of the plant, and force it to throw out lateral roots.
This operation is commonly performed early in the spring
of the second year : it does not prevent a second tap-root
being formed from the mutilated extremity of the first; but
it throws a greater proportion of the energies of the plant
into the lateral roots, which, by increasing these and their
fibres, renders the tree better adapted for transplanting. At
the end of the second year, plants so treated may be taken
up, and either planted where they are finally to remain ; or,
their tap-roots being shortened, they may be transplanted
into nursery lines, at distances adjusted according to the
principles laid down for transplanting the pine and fir tribe.
In this situation they may remain two years longer, and
then be taken up and again replanted in the nursery; be¬
cause all broad-leaved tap-rooted trees differ from needle¬
leaved trees in this important particular, that the larger
and stronger they are, up to a certain point, before they
are removed from the nursery, and planted where they are
finally to remain, the more vigorously will they grow there.
The point or limit to the size which they may be allowed
to attain in the nursery must be regulated by the condi¬
tion of the soil into which they are to be transplanted, re¬
latively to moisture. If this be abundant, so as to supply
all the fibrils with water during the first summer, even if
the removed plant has a stem an inch in diameter, so much
the better; it being clearly understood that it has been
transplanted in the nursery every two years, and is conse¬
quently abundantly supplied with fibrous roots, and has all
its wood perfectly ripe. If, on the other hand, the soil
into which the plant is to be transplanted is naturally dry,
and perhaps also thin and poor, the plants should be re¬
moved from the nursery thither at the end of the second
year. The reason is sufficiently obvious; such plants, be¬
ing of small size, have few leaves to exhale moisture, and
before they grow large they will have adjusted their roots
and annual growths to the locality.
Trees 'producing Pomes with Kernels.—This class in¬
cludes the genera Pyrus, Cydonia,Amelanchier, Cotoneaster,
Viburnum, &c. The fruits of the different species of these
genera ripen at various periods from September to Novem¬
ber. They should be gathered when ripe, and each kind
should be mixed with sand, and laid up in a heap, in order
to rot away the pulp. This heap may be turned over se¬
veral times in the course of the winter; and in the month
of February it may be sifted, and the seeds separated
from it, and sown in beds, exactly in the same manner as
is done with the seeds of the pine and fir tribe. After
the plants have been two years in the seed-bed, they may
be transplanted into nursery lines, on the same general
principles as already described.
Berries having Slones.—This class includes the genera
Crataegus, Ilex, Taxus, Prunus, Cerasus, Rhamnus, and
some others. The fruit ripens from August (as is the case
with some species of Crataegus) to December. It should
be gathered as soon as it is thoroughly ripe; and after
having been mixed with sand or sandy soil, the mixture
should be laid up in moderate-sized heaps, exposed to the
weather, and turned over frequently for two years, after
which it may be taken, along with the sand, and sown in
beds ; and when the plants come up, and have grown two
^Pknhng. years, they may be transplanted, and treated like the others.
In general, all the plants belonging to this class, which¬
ever way the seeds may be treated, whether they are
sown immediately that they are ripe, or kept in a rot-
heap two summers, will not come up till the spring of the
third year; but there are some positive and some acci¬
dental exceptions. Amongst the former are the yew, the
berries of which generally come up at the end of the first
year, and the wild cherry, which, if sown in July, imme¬
diately after the fruit is ripe, will come up the following
spring; whereas, if kept till August before it is sown, it
vtill not come up for two years. As casual exceptions, we
may mention that the holly and hawthorn, when the bcr-
i ies are macerated in water as soon as they are gathered,
and sown immediately afterwards, will, in some seasons,
come up the following spring in considerable numbers;
though the same treatment in other seasons, in the same
nursery, will not be attended with the same results.
Berries and Capsules having small Seeds.—This class
includes the elders, the privet, the spindle-tree, the bar¬
berries, and some others. The fruit may be treated like the
pomes; and great care should be taken, after it is rotten,
either that the seeds are completely separated from the
sand before they are sown, or that the sand and seed, when
sown together, should be so distributed over the bed as
that the plants may come up at regular distances, and suf¬
ficiently far apart. The covering of soil should be very
thin, more especially if the seeds are rolled in ; and the
beds should be shaded by branches or matting till the
plants are fairly above ground. At the end of the se¬
cond season they may be transplanted into nursery lines as
before. J
Leguminous Seeds.— These include the genera Cytisus,
Robima, Gleditschia, Caragana, &c. The pods general¬
ly ripen in September or October; but some of them, such
as the Gleditschia, not till November or December. The
seeds may be kept in the pods till February, and then ta¬
ken out and sown in beds, on the principles before laid
down. At the end of two years the young trees may be
transplanted as before.
Cottony, Papery, Feathery, and other soft Nee*.—These
include the genera Populus, Salix, Alnus, Betula, Ulmus,
&c. The seeds ripen from May to November; all the
poplars ripen their seeds in May; all the willows and elms
in June ; the alders in November ; and the birches in Oc¬
tober. The seed of the alder and the birch may be kept
in a cool, dry, airy situation till the following spring, or it
may be sown immediately after it is gathered. In either
case it comes up in the May or June following; but it is
preferable that the seeds of the elm. the poplar, and the
willow, should be sown immediately, because in that case
they are much more certain of coming up. Many of these
seeds will come up the same autumn, and the remainder
the following April and May. The seeds may be dried and
preserved in bags for a year; but in this case the great¬
er part of those of the poplars and willows will not vegetate.
The reason may be, that the seeds, when preserved, are
kept too warm; which must necessarily deprive them of
their moisture, through the absorption of the cottony sub¬
stance with which they are enveloped. Poplar and willow
seeds require to be sown on a surface rendered quite even,
and slightly firm, by rolling. Afterwards the seeds should be
evenly distributed over it, and they should be covered with
very light, sandy soil, or peat or vegetable mould, if either
can be procured, no thicker than barely to conceal the seed
fiom the eye. After this the beds should be watered, and
effectually shaded, by being hooped over and matted; and
t ey should be kept in a uniform state of moisture, by oc¬
casional supplies of water, when the plants make their ap¬
pearance. Of all the seedling trees raised in British nur¬
series, none come up and grow with so much vigour, the
VOL. XVII.
PLANTING.
first year, as the common broad-leaved elm ; and, there¬
fore, the seeds of this tree require to be placed at a greater
distance from each other in the seed-bed than those of anv
other kind. The seeds of the elm also keep much better
till the following spring than those of the poplar and willow
and they are generally so kept by Scotch nurserymen.
IV— The Cidture of Trees in the Plantations. The Forma¬
tion and Management of Plantations.
Whether plantations of forest-trees should be sown or
planted, is a question which has been agitated and discussed
by different writers. It is readily allowed, that sowing is
the natural mode; but it is the business of art to improve
upon nature, and to attain the same ends which she does
by moie definite means. If this general principle be cor¬
rect, it affords at once a decisive answer as to the respective
eligibility of sowing or planting ; unless, indeed, it can be
shown, which some have attempted to do, that the timber
of transplanted trees is never so valuable as that of sown
ones. The only reason alleged for this is, that the trans¬
planted trees have lost their tap-roots ; and although a more
frivolous one could hardly be imagined, yet it has been
maintained by a number of writers, and is still insisted on
by a few. On examining the roots of full-grown trees,
however, either in natural forests or artificial plantations!
no tap-root is ever found ; on the contrary, those roots which
pioceed either directly or obliquely downwards from the
base of the trunk, are uniformly found much smaller than
those which proceed from the base of the trunk horizontallv,
at a few inches distance under the surface of the ground.
The tap-root, therefore, is chiefly of use to the tree whilst in
a young state ; and if we trace a seedling oak through the
first ten years of its progress, we shall find that, in the first
year, the tap-root is larger in proportion to the part of the
plant above ground, than it is in any succeeding year; and
that as the top of the tree and the lateral roots increase in
size, the tap-root ceases to increase, till at last, even at so
short a period as ten or twelve years’ growth, it is found to
be the smallest of all the main roots of the tree. We as¬
sume it, therefore, as agreed on by the most intelligent
planters, that a transplanted tree, other circumstances being
the same, is in all respects as good as a seedling one. Hence
we conclude, that all artificial plantations ought to be made
by planting the trees, and for a similar reason we would
plant these in rows at regular distances ; and, in short, treat
them, as far as is practicable, like a crop of herbaceous ve¬
getables, when reared in the kitchen-garden or in the field.
We would prepare the soil, and even manure it for the
trees, with as great care as we would for a crop of turnips
or cabbages ; and we would stir the surface afterwards for
two or three years, till it began to be covered with the
branches of the tiees; in which state we should leave it
during the whole period of the growth of the plantation,
only taking care to remove large weeds. We admit, how¬
ever, that this kind of tree culture can only take place with
advantage on a tolerably even surface, and where the soil
is of the same nature throughout; but we think it right to
lay it down as a general principle of guidance, in so far as it
can be followed, for planters in all other soils and situations.
With the exception of the ground destined for orna¬
mental plantations about country houses, the great majo¬
rity of cases in which plantations are to be formed with a
view to profit must necessarily be on hilly and irregular
surfaces; and where there is probably a considerable varietv
of soil, even in a very limited space. The only preparation
that in cases of this kind can be given, is under-draining ;
for to dig or trench the surface would render it liable to be
washed away by heavy rains and thawing snow'. Planta¬
tions under such circumstances must be formed by digging
pits for each particular tree, and by making use of such
5 e
PLANTING.
kinds as are thought to be best adapted to the particular
soil and situation. This will frequently occasion the use o
a considerable variety of trees in the same plantation ; but
the effect will be as much more interesting in point of beauty,
as the result will be advantageous in point of timber pro¬
duce. We have already stated, that needle-leaved trees
should, if possible, be transplanted when they are not older
than two years; but that broad-leaved trees may be trans¬
planted at four, six, eight, or ten years’ growth; provided
they have been removed every two years in the nursery,
and that the soil in which they are placed is sufficiently
deep and moist to bring all the fibrous ropts into full action
the first summer. In the planting of irregular surfaces,
which cannot be done by digging, when strong plants ot
this kind are used they overcome the natural herbage im¬
mediately ; and, if carefully planted, not one in a score will
fail. Smaller plants, on the other hand, are apt to be choked
by the grass or herbage, and to have their leaves and young
shoots injured by the insects which never fail to abound in
such situations. When such surfaces have naturally a very
dry soil and subsoil, plants with such a mass of roots as
those which we have mentioned cannot subsist on them the
first year; and therefore smaller plants, or such as have been
only once transplanted, are preferable.
Notwithstanding these arguments in favour of planting
instead of sowing as a general practice, there are circum¬
stances under which sowing is either the preferable, or per¬
haps the only mode, that can be adopted. In every case ot
making plantations of the pinaster, or of the cedar of Le-
banon, unless we could procure a sufficient number of plants
of two years old in pots, we should prefer sowing a patch
of seeds in every place where a plant was intended finally
to remain. Three seeds in a patch would be sufficient;
and if more than one came up, the rest should be removed
the second or third year. In cases of this kind the plants
require to be looked over two or three times every year, to
prevent the surrounding herbage from choking them. When
steep rocky cliffs, or the sides of hills, consisting of loose
naked stones, are to be covered with wood, then sowing is
the only mode that can be resorted to. The kind of rock
having been ascertained, in order to discover the nature of
the debris or soil collected in its clefts, or under the loose
stones, the kinds of seeds to be sown may be selected ac¬
cordingly. Where the soil is good, acorns, ash-keys, maple
and sycamore keys, and beech mast, may be introduced ;
but where it is poor, the safer mode will be to sow seeds of
the Scotch pine, the larch, the birch, the mountain ash, the
white-beam tree, and the elder. Where there is no visible
soil, each seed, or two or three seeds, may be enveloped in
a composition of common green moss, cow-dung, and loam,
and these balls being deposited in clefts or crevices, or among
loose stones, and left to be acted upon by the rain, will swell
and burst, and the seeds which they contained will vege¬
tate, and find nourishment in the fragments of the ball in
which they were enveloped. When the object is to cover
drift sand with wood, the practice followed in the downs or
landes of Bordeaux may be adopted, with suitable variations.
A zone of the downs, or sandy surface, on that side from
which the prevalent winds blow, is first to be sheltered by a
fence of boards three or four feet in height. This will pro¬
tect a zone of twenty or thirty feet in width; that is, it
will prevent the drifting sands from covering this space to
any great thickness. On this zone the seeds of broom,
as being a plant that will grow on the poorest soil, are to be
sown; and, among these, the seeds of the tree which is con¬
sidered the most suitable for the particular situation. Near
the sea this will generally be found to be the pinaster ; but
in the interior of the country, where the sands are not
deep, perhaps the birch or the Scotch pine may be found
eligible.
Two of the most important points connected with the
formation of plantations, are the distance at which the trees Planting,
ought to be planted from each other, and the introduction'' v'"—"
or non-introduction among them of nurse-trees. When
both these points were first settled by professional planters,
the important uses of the leaves of plants were not at all
understood by practical men. Hence they gave directions
for planting the trees at such distances as that they might
draw up one another ; without considering the loss of the
leaves on the sides of each plant which this drawing up will
produce. As the strength of every plant depends on the
number of its leaves, and on the full exposure of these to the
light, it follows that the strongest young trees will be those
which are clothed with branches and leaves from the ground
upwards, and which have their leaves fully exposed on every
side to the perpendicular light. In regard to the distance
from each other at which trees can be planted in a planta¬
tion, we should say, begin by planting at a greater or less
distance, according to the size of the plants and the nature
of the soil and situation; but do not neglect to cut down,
or thin out, the moment the lower branches of the plants
interfere with one another. Continue this practice year
after year, till the lower branches begin to show symptoms
of decay at their extremities; when, instead of thinning out
the trees, the process of pruning them may be commenced.
The lower tier of branches may then be cut off close to
the stem, it being understood that such pruning shall take
place before the branches are more than an inch in diame¬
ter at the point where they join the stem, even if the ex¬
tremities of the branches have not begun to decay. The
trees may then be left to grow, either till another tier of
branches begins to show symptoms of decay, when, of
course, that tier must be cut off immediately; or till the
points of the healthy branches interfere with those of the
healthy branches of the surrounding trees, in which case
thinning must be resorted to as before. In this way the
process of thinning and pruning ought to go hand in hand,
till the trees have attained their average height; by which
time the different species will be found standing at dis¬
tances differing according to the height of each tree and
the nature of its branches. Thus those trees which will
be found standing closest together when full grown, will
be the pine and fir tribe ; because in them the branches
never attain a timber size, and the lower tiers begin to de¬
cay at their extremities sooner than in any other trees. On
the other hand, the oak has more widely-spreading and du¬
rable branches than any of the other broad-leaved trees;
and hence, when plantations of this tree are fully grown,
the individuals will be found at a greater distance apart
than those of any other species of broad-leaved tree what¬
ever. What this distance will be must depend on the soil
and situation; because in some localities the common Bri¬
tish oak will attain double the height and breadth of head
which it does in others. Our business here is to illustrate
a principle; and we shall leave it to planters who approve
of it, to deduce the rules from it which will apply to their
particular cases.
The next point which we have to discuss is the ad van-
tage or disadvantage of introducing nurse-plants into plan¬
tations. That these have a tendency to accelerate the
growth of trees in an upward direction for a number of
years after the plantation is made, there can be no doubt;
but this is always at the expense of the side-branches and .
side-leaves, and consequently of the thickness of the trunk
of the tree to be nursed. The question, therefore, is, what
is gained by the nursing ? Is there any advantage in hav¬
ing a young tree with a tall, slender stem, and few or no
side-branches, rather than a tree of half the height, with a
short, stiff stem, clothed with branches and leaves from the
ground upwards ? We admit that evergreen nurses, such
as the Scotch pine and the spruce fir, considerably im¬
prove the climate of a plantation, by preventing the radia-
PLANTING.
Landscape tion of heat from the ground; and that, provided they did
gardening. not do injury in other respects, in this respect they would
do good. The question as to nurses or no nurses may, we
think, be satisfactorily answered in the following manner
Suppose we adopt the principle already laid down, that all
tiees in plantations intended to produce timber should be
kept at such distances, by thinning and pruning, as that the
extremities of their lowest branches should never interfere.
’Ihen, having fixed on the kind of tree the growth of which
, tf16 main object of the plantation, and the number
of these that, when full grown, can stand upon an acre or
any given surface, plant them in their proper places, and
fill up the intervals with the trees intended to serve as
nurses. As the nurses increase in size, and their branches
touch their principals, let them be pruned or thinned; so
as in no way to prevent the principals from being clothed
with branches from the ground upwards on every side, or
to pi event the leaves on these branches from being fully
exposed to the sun. In this way the climate of a planta¬
tion will be improved by evergreen nurses; and the nurses
will piotect the trees from high winds till they have attained
to such a size and vigour of growth that the annual shoots
produced on the.top of the tree will be so short that they
can be ripened in a colder climate than would be required
to ripen a longer shoot produced by a young tree. This
mode of nursing trees, it may be observed, is widely differ¬
ent from the practice of letting nurses and principals draw
up one another, in which case both will be alike without
side-btanches; and consequently, when the nurses are re¬
moved, the principals, weakened by having their stems, un¬
protected by branches, exposed to the cold in winter and to
the heat in summer, will remain stationary a number of
years; in some cases dying away altogether, and in others
making so little progress that nearly as much would be
gained in the produce of timber by cutting them down, and
training up a single shoot from the stools, or by trenchin°-
the ground and replanting, as by letting them grow.
We have now taken a cursory glance at the principal
points which require to be considered in the culture of trees,
and in the formation and management of trees; but the
subject is of very great extent, and could not be entered
into in all the requisite details in even double or treble the
space which can be allotted to this article. Our object in
writing it has been rather to direct attention to general
principles than to lay down specific rules; satisfied as we
are that, in every department of agriculture and gardening,
too much deference is paid to routine practices, and too
little recourse is had to the principles on which these prac¬
tices are founded. Above all, planters do not seem suffi¬
ciently aware of the important agency of leaves and light,
not only in the production of quantity of timber, but of
quality also.
(The botanic names in this article are generally those
adopted in Loudon’s Arboretum et Fruticetum Britanni-
cum, to which work we would refer for more ample infor¬
mation.) (c> j L ^
771
V.—Landscape Gardening.
We now come to landscape gardening. This treats
planting as a means of decorating grounds, and combines
with it every other operation requisite to embellishment.
It does not exclude the growing of trees for the market
value of their timber, but it subordinates this to the im¬
provement of scenery. Its entire object is to convert all
the land around a residence into an assemblage of pleasing
pictures. It is a subject for the exertion of fancy and taste ;
and expatiates on at once the simplest, the noblest, and the
most beautiful scenes of nature. Its business is not con¬
fined to what is popularly called a garden, but also regulates
t le disposition and embellishment of a park, a farm, or even
a forest. A landscape gardener selects and applies what¬
ever is great, elegant, or characteristic in any of them; he Landscape
discovers and brings to view all the advantages of the place Gardening.
on which he operates; he supplies its defects, corrects its V 
faults, and improves its beauties.
.The ground selected for a landscape garden may com-
piise bioken surface, lawn, or swamp; it may be a height
a valley, a plain, or a composition of swells, dips, and levels;
but it suits best to be all a tract of moderate elevation, with
flowing outlines, free from angular points or great irregu¬
larities, commanding a good view, enjoying good natural
shelter, and possessing a dry, deep, friable soil. All its
essential chaiacters are natural. An artist may afford im¬
portant aid in selecting it; but if it be naturally ill-con¬
ditioned, he can do little or nothing to improve its general
expression, and must confine his efforts to the correctin0- of
slight inequalities, and the handling of wood and water.
Wood, in landscape gardening, is classified into woods
proper, groves, and clumps. A wood proper is a large
mixed plantation of both trees and shrubs, or of forest-trees
and under-wood, and may comprise any amount of diversity
of species, or present any variety of disposition or outline.
Its prevailing character is grandeur. A grove consists of
tiees without shrubs., and pleases the eye not only as seen
in mass, but by the individual forms of its component trees.
Its prevailing character is beauty. A clump is a small
separate patch of either wood or grove: it is either close or
open; and in the former case it is sometimes called a
thicket, in the latter, a group of trees. Its prevailing
character is gracefulness or finish.
A wood seen from the stand-point ascending the side of
a hill, and terminating on the horizon, is one of the noblest
objects in a landscape. It fills the eye, occupies an entire
space, soars to the clouds or to the sky; yet seems all dis¬
tinct, all at hand, all a part of the home scene. But if its
extremity do not go quite to the sky-line, unless the cha¬
iacters of the hill-top above it be of a peculiar and striking
character, the effect will be greatly marred. A wood seen
from below, covering even a small hill to the summit, gene¬
rally looks grander than one covering a much larger hill
only to the shoulder. A wood seen from the stand-point
spreading down a slope is still less effective. This may
form only a small part of the scene, and will then be defi¬
cient in its essential character of grandeur; or it may wind
out of sight or become lost in the horizon, but will then
want distinctness of surface and firmness of outline. A
wood on very broken ground, in a deep, winding ravine, or
in any similar situation, though incapable of expansive
greatness, may fully atone for it by rude magnificence and
romantic force.
Varieties on the surface of any wood are essential to its
effect. One variety arises from the different forms of its
different kinds of trees; another from the differences in
their rapidity and mode of growth ; another from differences
in their hues of green; another from their shadows; an¬
other from the groupings and contrasts in their order of
arrangement; and another from the inequalities of the
ground, and from breaks in the planting. In forming a new
wood, an artist has all these varieties completely under his
power, so that he can give it the best possible surface; and
in improving an old wood, he may so operate on many spots,
by thinning or thickening, by removing some trees or sup¬
plying others, as to render its surface scarcely inferior to
that of a new one. Care must be used to render the va¬
rieties distinct, to make the groups and the masses broad,
and yet not to destroy the unity of the wood, or to dissever
it into contrasted parts. A single tree, or a small cluster
of trees, in the midst of an extensive wood, makes no sen¬
sible variety ; while a number of masses, contrasted to one
another in character, standing mutually adjacent, without
intermediate blendings, constitute not properly one wood,
but a confused collection of several. A wood on a hill,
772
PLANTING.
Landscape seen from below, requires to be thick, in order that it may
Gardening. not appear meagre, and must derive the variety of its sur-
v ~ J face mainly from the tops of its trees; but a wood on a
slope, seen from above, suits well to be thin, showing its
trees almost in the manner of a grove, and admits a large
play of variety in their differences of species, _ habit, hue,
and shadow. A wood in a broken ravine, or in any other
ground with strong and salient inequalities, admits of the
widest diversities and of the nearest contrasts. A deep
hollow in it may be filled with trees of the darkest green;
an abrupt bank may be occupied by trees rising above one
another, like the tiers of an amphitheatre; and a sharp
ridge may be crowned by a narrow line of cone-shaped firs
or pines. • 'Ti •
The outline of every wood also demands attention. I ms
is completely under control; it can generally be deter¬
mined by mere taste or will, without impediment from the
ground; and it often produces stronger effects than any
which arise from the character of the surface. The outline
must be irregular: not a series of straight lines or easy
curves, but a bold and various combination of sweeps,
angles, and breaks. Its main diversities must be either
proiections or recesses, all differing from one another m
length and breadth, and all rather long than broad, and
narrowing to a point. These, besides being features in
themselves, give peculiar force to the general outline,^ and
have the effect of enlarging the apparent extent of the
wood. Several projections from a narrow wood, or hill, or
slope, will make it look grander than a much larger one of
compact outline; and a deep recess in an extensive wood
on a flat, penetrating beyond reach of the eye, and winding
inward to a concealed extremity, produces some of the same
kind of impressions as a profile scene in a great natural
forest. Some parts of the outline, especially across the
entrance of recesses, may be materially aided in force and
elegance by a thin sprinkling of individual trees. A main
rule in the forming of a wood is to modify its grandeur, to
blend graces with its greatness, to diversify its uniformity,
and to give strong, diffusive, intricate effect to its masses.
A grove differs from a wood, not only in containing no
thicket, and in being characterized by beauty instead of
grandeur, but in aiming to please the eye rather by its in¬
terior arrangement than by its outward form. It is an
assemblage of trees to be seen in detail, and admired in all
its parts. Its trees are so arranged, singly and in groups,
that they may please the eye both by their individual ele¬
gance and by their combined effects. The surface and the
outline of a grove are of much less consequence than its
inner depths. An observer goes into it to walk through it,
to stroll in it, or to sit; and he reserves most of his expec¬
tations from it to what he shall see in its interior. Main
care, therefore, must be given to the choice and disposition
of its trees. Varieties of species must be selected in every
style of elegance, from the light to the massive, from the
graceful to the romantic, from the bushy to the aspiring, in
order at once to exhibit a large amount of loveliness in the
individual forms, and to intensify and multiply this by com¬
parisons and contrasts. Other varieties must be chosen in
every style of habit; some with density of growth, some
with large but few branches, some with light thin boughs
and leaves, in order to produce every degree of light and
shade, from a glare to obscurity. Differences in hue are of
less consequence, and ought sometimes to be avoided. The
disposition should be a mixture of irregularity and order,
free from both uniformity and confusion. The trees should
stand in groups or form irregular lines, and describe a
variety of figures. The groups and the lines should be so
contrived as to show to advantage the characters of the
individual trees. The intervening spaces should vary in
extent and form; some large and open to the sky, some
over-arched with branches or contracted to a mere passage.
and all so arranged with relation to one another as to afford Landscape
frequent transitions and contrasts. The disposition of a new Gardening,
grove may be twofold,—first, with reference to its effect
while all the trees are young and small; next, with refer¬
ence to its matured condition, when the majority of the trees
have been removed by thinning.
A clump with shrubs is formed essentially like a wood,
and a clump without shrubs essentially like a grove. Clumps,
however, as compared with woods and groves, are small
objects, and they must be treated according to their dimen¬
sions. Sometimes also they stand in an isolated manner, *
and then must be treated with reference only to their own
beauty; but oftener they stand in a relative position, con¬
nected with one another or with an adjacent wood or grove,
and then they must be treated with reference to the cha¬
racter of the entire scene. Isolated clumps are most in re¬
quest for relieving an expanse of lawn or breaking a con¬
tinuous line of hill or slope ; but unless designed by a very
skilful artist, they may prove rather deformities than orna¬
ments, remarkable for ostentation or clumsiness, and look¬
ing like large blots in the landscape. A single one, in
almost any view, looks better than several; and one of the
best is an open one at the point of an abrupt hill, or on a
promontory in lake or river. Related clumps do best to be
related to one another throughout an extensive lawn, to
control its entire shape, and form beautiful glades; and
either in that position, or when related to an adjacent wood
or grove, they produce their desirable effects less by their
own forms than by their connections and their contrasts.
Water is an important material in a landscape garden.
An arm of the sea, or the sea itself, may fill more of the
view than the entire ground; and a river or lake may figure
as largely as hill or lawn. Ihese in general can be im¬
proved only on the margin, and chiefly by planting; but
they often admit of improvements there so extensive, rich,
and varied, as to give a new character to all the landscape.
What these improvements precisely are must be deter¬
mined by the conditions of shore or banks, but usually
appear so obvious that they need not be described. Lakes
of a beautiful or picturesque kind can often be formed
within the grounds ; small streams also, if they have a good
fall, through plantations or lawns, may sometimes be greatly
changed ; and these two forms of water make large demands
on the care of the landscape gardener.
The proper situation of an artificial lake is a vale or
hollow traversed by a little stream. The particular spot
must be carefully chosen with reference both to its own
limits and to the features of the surrounding ground. The
bottom and sides may be either under-drained, puddled,
or otherwise prepared, to prevent any contraction of foul¬
ness. A dam of an ornamental kind must be raised across
the lower end, to stem the water and to form the lower
boundary. The traversing stream must consist of limpid
water, must not be subject to muddy freshets, and ought,
if possible, to be sufficiently large and constant to maintain
the lake in constant purity. Everything in the banks and
in the encompassing vegetation must be avoided which
would lead to marshiness or putridity. The depth of the
water need not exceed five or six feet. The slope ot the
banks must not be too steep, and ought to blend well with
the surrounding ground. The form ot the lake must not
be elongated, but expansive, with a breadth in good pro¬
portion to the length. Its surface may be broken by one
or more islets, or invaded by one or more little peninsulas,
yet only of such size and in such circumstances as will not
injure the view of it as a whole, or make it appear like a
collection of ponds. The outline also may be diversified,
and even made intricate, with little bays and promontories,
yet must so far approach regularity as to possess appreciable
shape. Its immediate margin, to a variable breadth, may
consist of clean gravel or rich sward, according to the na-
PLANTING.
Landscape ture of the ground; but all the rest of the banks must be
Gardening, variously planted with shrubs or trees. Mounds may be
thrown up, or cuts made, to increase the diversity of the
ground ; but all these, as well as the natural surfaces, should
receive every decoration which can be given them by the
rules already laid down for the making of a grove.
Small streams with a lively current may sometimes be
altered, with picturesque effect, throughout most of their
course, within a landscape garden. If two or more flow
near each other, they may perhaps be advantageously
thrown together to form one current. The stream need
nowhere be furious except at cataracts or cascades; but
neither must it be anywhere dull or stagnant, except at
pools, and therefore it may be straitened at dull tortuous
reaches to increase its velocity. Cataracts or cascades may
be improved or formed at places of sufficient descent, and
eddying pools may be created at sudden bends overhung
by high banks. Bits or masses of rock ought to project
boldly at the falls, and may often take an increase of appa¬
rent height and dignity from diggings to expose them, and
will generally admit of being picturesquely shagged or ro¬
mantically diversified with shrubs or trees. The general
course of the stream can be variously sown with herbage
and planted with wood, in such manner as to allow ferny
banks, and narrow, winding, shady walks; and a tortuous
reach of it, with sufficiently lively current and of sufficient
length, may be crossed and re-crossed by the walks over
little rustic bridges, or by means of stepping-stones.
Bits or masses of rock in all kinds of situations often give
scope for much improvement. Any appearance of them,
indeed, in a meadowy or champaign tract is incongruous,
and requires to be hidden by gentle mounding or by plant¬
ing. But even detached pieces of rock, rough and large,
fitted into the ground and partially covered with vegetation,
on spots of a bold character, such as at the foot of a wooded
acclivity, have often an excellent effect, if not directly on
the eye, at least on the imagination. Slight protrusions of
rock at the walls of a terrace give an idea of dryness and
stability ; larger protrusions in remoter parts often afford
picturesque aid to the diversities of the ground or to the
forms of plantation; and ledges of rock, whether they exist
naturally, or can be laid bare by art, form a fine flank to a
road, a cross, or a declivity. Large protuberances, cliffs, or
other huge masses, are features, or assemblages of features,
substantially beyond the reach of art, yet admitting as much
change on the surface, by mounding, by digging, and espe¬
cially by planting, as largely modifies or alters their expres¬
sion. Their prevailing character ranges from savageness
to dignity ; and when disagreeable, it may be concealed ;
when imperfect, it may be improved ; when pleasing, it may
be magnified. Rocks of a disagreeable appearance may
generally be concealed by wood ; rocks deficient in appa¬
rent or relative height may be improved by the removal of
earth from their base, and the planting of a line of wood
along their summit; rocks standing apart from one another
at intervals which destroy or mar their picturesque effect,
may be woven into one scene by means of shrubs and trees
planted partly on their skirts and partly in the intervals ;
and rocks of lofty stature and irregular face, soaring, pre¬
cipitous, rent, and shelving, may be worked into a mingled
display of beauty, romance, and grandeur, by the skilful
disposition of points, tufts, lines, and masses of wood.
The materials of landscape gardening which we have
hitherto noticed—ground, wood, water, and rocks—are na¬
tural ; but others requiring notice—small in value compared
with the natural, but equally indispensable—are factitious.
These consist of fences, walks, roads, bridges, seats, and
buildings.
Boundary fences do not belong properly to the landscape
garden itself, but ought to be well concealed from its walks
by masses of shrubs and trees, and may be constructed in
773
any style of security which comports with neatness. Even Landscape
interior fences have a place in the garden, not as materials ^ar<^en^ng*
of ornament, but as matters of necessity, and do best to be v'—
as quiet and unconspicuous as circumstances will permit.
Sunk fences are the most desirable, and ought always to be
preferred, but are seldom suitable for any situation except
between the lawn and the park. Light iron fences, or what
are called continuous fences, are generally the best in other
situations. A neat rustic wooden fence may suit well to pro¬
tect plantations from cattle or sheep. Hedges anywhere
within a landscape garden, especially in its more open parts,
are deformities and obstructions, disagreeable in themselves,
and damaging to the view ; and even around plantations,
they give them a hard, stiff outline, and blot out the sweet
beauty which belongs to the trail of their branches on the
ground.
The walks in a landscape garden are designed both for
the exercise of walking and for the disclosure of the scenery.
They must be so formed in material, slope, and border,
that they can be comfortably used in wet weather. They
ought to lead from view to view, to take a variety of levels,
to be concealed from one another, and to command at suc¬
cessive spots all the best aspects of the house, of the garden
itself, and of the surrounding country. Their direction
must be determined by the points to which they lead, and
the nature of the ground over which they pass. They
ought never to run long in a straight line, but ought to
wind hither and thither in continual variety of sweep, neither
making abrupt turns, nor setting their curves to any re¬
gular radius.
Some roads within a landscape garden, as drives and rides,
are designed only for amusement; while others, as the ap¬
proach to the mansion, are designed expressly for communi¬
cation. One road may be formed to serve both kinds of
purposes; but every road of a specific character ought to
have a direction adapted to its specific use ; and a road for
communication needs to be straighter than one for mere
amusement. The principal road is the approach to the
mansion. This generally does best to be a waving line,
with very easy sweeps, controlled by inequalities of the
ground, and passing through a diversity of wooded scenery ;
but on a flat tract of large extent, leading to a house of
pretty regular form, it may all be a straight line, along an
avenue of two, four, or more rows of trees. The first view
of the house from it should be oblique or angular, and in
good perspective ; and the concluding view should show
the entire facade and the entrance. The terminating
piece of gravel for carriages to turn in is sometimes made
so large as to have a diminishing and disfiguring effect on
the surrounding objects, but need not be of greater breadth
than from thirty to forty feet.
Bridges must be at once useful, ornamental, and consist¬
ent. They must exist only on spots where walks or roads
really need them, and must possess the kinds of character
and elegance most in harmony with the scenes around them.
A bridge for a footpath over a brawling streamlet in a wood,
or over a stripe of lake to an islet, may suit well to be no¬
thing more than a strong rough plank, with wooden props,
and a wooden hand-rail; one for a footpath in a more con¬
spicuous situation may still be all of wood, somewhat ela¬
borated, yet light and rustic ; while a bridge for a drive, or
for the main approach, amid the finest scenes of the garden,
ought to be a structure of stone or iron in some of the
highest styles of elegance which architectural skill can de¬
sign. Bridges of any kind, in any situation, must be well
supported at their ends with bushes or trees, to relieve the
rigidity of their lines, and to make them blend softly with
the adjacent ground; and embankments leading to them,
if any embankments be necessary, must be well masked with
masses of shrubs.
Seats are useful for rest, shade, and conversation. They
774
PLANTING.
Landscape should be set down at all points which command good views,
Gardening. are seldom appropriate in other situations. Their cha-
racter, like that of bridges, must be in harmony with the
scenery. In rude spots the simple trunk, rough from the
woodman’s hands, and the stools of rooted trees, without
any other marks of tools upon them than those of the saw
which severed them from their stems, are proper seats;
and in romantic or recluse spots, caves, or grottos, natural
or artificial, dry within, and commanding fair views, may be
suitable ; but all must be so formed and finished as to look
in keeping with the adjacent ground. In spots near the
mansion or among the finest embellishments of the garden,
the seats of even the simplest form require to be elegant
and of a light colour, and the most conspicuous may have
architectural features.
The buildings of a landscape garden present enormous
scope for design, and are in a considerable degree the sub¬
ject of a specific art. They do not belong to architecture
alone, or to gardening alone, or to any ready or obvious
combination of the two. Even the mansion must not be
designed by a mere architect, but requires in many respects,
particularly as to site, style, and harmony with surrounding
objects, to be determined also by the landscape gardener.
Other buildings of a decorative kind throughout the grounds
demand a skill which shall combine proficiency in most of
the fine arts with power to adapt their designs minutely
and variously to effects on landscape. Loose theory, rather
than any system of rules, has hitherto prevailed respecting
them ; even sheer caprice has not seldom taken the place
of theory ; and whatever taste or judgment may have con¬
trolled the theory or the caprice has been subject to ex¬
treme change, from fluctuations in architecture, from fluctua¬
tions in gardening, and from collisions and repulsions be¬
tween the two. A passion long reigned, especially on the
Continent, for crowding gardens with all sorts of decorative
buildings ; the tide of taste turned, continued long on the
ebb, and seemed about to carry them all away ; but again
a love for them, of a chastened kind, and under jealous rules,
has revived. We cannot more fitly express the best exist¬
ing cast of opinion respecting them than in the words of
Mr Edward Kemp, in the second edition of his work, How
to Lai) Out a Garden, London, 1858. He says (pp. 178-
183):—
“ Modem tendencies in gardening have been too much
away from its character as an art, and the more it is re¬
stored to its legitimate position, the more nearly will it be
brought into kindred with architecture. On the other
hand, the too commonly cumbrous, regular, and unyielding
nature of architectural objects, when used for garden deco¬
ration, has tended still further to detach two pursuits which
are essentially and obviously allied. For, as a house and a
garden are naturally and intimately associated, and it is a
law of the universe that the boundaries of each domain in
the natural kingdom should insensibly mingle and be lost
in each other ; so it is plain that an unvitiated taste would
be most gratified when the province of architecture is ex¬
tended so as to embrace lightly and harmoniously such parts
of the garden as may be most contiguous to the house;
while the garden also in these parts rises in character to
meet the requirements of the architecture, until either art is
so refined and attenuated that it would be almost difficult
to say what belongs exclusively to each. Still there is that
about gardening which, in the nature of things, and apart
from the difference of the materials with which it has to
deal, constitutes it a distinctive art. And garden architec¬
ture has lineaments of its own so decidedly removed from
those of house architecture, and so seldom studied, that the
ordinary architectural practitioner is at sea the moment he
enters the region of the garden. It is less a matter of rule
and measurement. Its effects are more to be judged of by
the eye. It comprehends a far greater variety of combina¬
tions. It requires a man to be as much an artist (at least Landscape
in feeling) as an architect, and to be familiar with natural Gardening,
groupings and tones, to take in an entire landscape in the
range of his design, and not merely isolated or detached
objects. In fact, the garden architect has to make a gene¬
ral picture, and not simply to set a work of art, as it were,
on a solitary pedestal.
“ The province of garden architecture is, primarily, to
supply fitting appendages and accompaniments to a house,
so that the latter may not appear naked, alone, and unsup¬
ported. If judiciously applied, it will be effective in help¬
ing to produce a good outline or group; to carry down the
lines of the house ; to connect it with other buildings, such
as a conservatory, arbour, &c.; to provide a proper base¬
ment for the house; to afford shelter and privacy to a
flower garden ; to extend the facade or frontage of a house ;
to shut out back-yards, offices, &c.; to enrich, vary, and en¬
liven the garden ; to supply conveniences, such as shelter,
receptacles for birds, plants, sculpture, &c., with museums
for works of art or specimens of natural history, and sup¬
ports for climbing plants ; to indicate refinement, wealth,
and a love of art; and otherwise to blend the various con¬
stituents of a garden with the house, and harmonize the
two by communicating a more artistic tone to the garden.
Wing-walls to a house, broken by a conservatory, and ter¬
minated by a summer-house, aviary, museum, or sculpture-
rooms ; corridors, similarly broken and terminated, and
glazed or open, so as merely to form covered ways ; conser¬
vative walls, either glazed or simply protected by bold pro¬
jecting piers and copings; viaducts, aqueducts, arbours,
arches, arcades, tunnels, boat-houses, temples, prospect and
flag towers; with an almost infinite number of smaller ob¬
jects, such as sculptured figures, sun-dials, statuary, pil¬
lars, obelisks, terrace-walls, &c., constitute the elements
with which garden architecture has to wTork.
“ In its leading traits, it necessarily comes within the
same category as house architecture, and is governed by
the same principles. Like the house, it should exhibit design,
some degree of symmetry, harmony of parts, unity of ex¬
pression, consistency of style, fitness for the locality, adapta¬
tion for the intended purpose, and stability and permanence
of appearance. But it should also display a greater amount
of lightness and elegance; a comparative absence of regu¬
larity ; a decorative rather than an exclusively useful pur¬
pose ; a superior variety of outline; extreme attention to
general grouping; a blending of its forms with those of na¬
ture ; an especial regard for placing its creations where they
will have a distinct meaning and object; a leaning to the
use of good materials, but somewhat rougher than those
employed in the house ; a preference rather for a picturesque
outline than for mere ornamental details ; and, as a most
important characteristic, a marked boldness and prominence
of parts. Indeed, picturesqueness, such as would be occa¬
sioned by changes of level in the ground, by diversity in
the heights of walls, by prominent piers, buttresses, or cor¬
nices, by broad projecting eaves to the roofs of buildings,
and by any arrangement that will yield depth of shadow,
should be the ruling constituent of garden architecture.
“ Every architectural object admitted into a garden
should form part of the general plan of that garden, and fit
into its proper place. It will create a serious incongruity if
merely put down at random, or not duly established as part
of the main design. Smaller architectural ornaments, too,
must be adequately connected with and kept in the neigh¬
bourhood of the house or other sufficiently important build¬
ing ; otherwise they will be too different from the forms of
nature to appear harmonious. A strictly garden building
or object, unless very large, should never be obtrusive. It
ought always to be quiet-looking, and not violently different
in colour from the surrounding vegetation. Hence white,
whether in marble, stone, or painted objects, is decidedly
Landscape t0 be avoided, and a warm drab or a darker tint to be pre
Gardening. ferred. When a terrace or other ornamental wall, whe-
V'"“v ther balustraded or otherwise pierced, or simply devoid of
any relief in the way of openings, becomes the principal
foreground to a garden or other scene, as viewed from the
windows of the house, it will, however much it may be
broken up by piers, vases, &c., appear too hard, cold, and
monotonous, without some aid from grass and shrubs. In
all such cases, therefore, there should be a broad band of
grass between the terrace-walk and the wall; and a few
clusters of evergreens, rising in broken masses above the
line of the wall, or of climbers mantling its summit in occa¬
sional patches, will require to be skilfully introduced, other¬
wise the wall would seem to divorce rather than mingle
with the landscape beyond.
“ To pass from the consideration of garden architecture,
I now return to the subject of architectural gardening. Its
distinctive principles are,—a strict observance of rule ; a
prominent indication or exhibition of art; the maintenance
of a decided harmony and connection with the house and
other architectural objects; the adoption of regular figures ;
the employment of rigid, formal, and exotic plants; the
necessity for flat and even surfaces, with the use of terrace-
banks or extremely regular slopes; and the production of
a conspicuous character of dignity and repose. The proper
sphere of architectural gardening is the immediate neigh¬
bourhood of the house ; as an accompaniment to particular
styles of architecture, especially the Italian ; in connection
with detached architectural structures, as temples, plant-
houses, &c. j within the circuit of the flower garden, par¬
terre, rose garden, &c.; in the gardens attached to a
palace, mansion, or first-class villa, rather than to a small
villa or cottage residence ; the kitchen garden ; and, where
the circumstances are favourable, the town garden.
“ There are certain incongruities and defects which fre¬
quently attend the practice of architectural gardening, and
which should be sedulously avoided. Some of these are
the mixture of inharmonious styles; the use of rustic or
unarchitectural ornaments, except in remote parts, and
where they will not be observed as constituents of the
general scene ; the placing of terrace - walls or other
erections on a sloping bank, or where they have shelving
ground immediately below them ; the extension of a formal
mode of treatment into the park ; generally the obtrusion
of a flower garden into the view from the principal windows,
unless it be on a lower level than the base of the house ;
an avenue or row of trees that crosses any main line of
view, or one on the summit of a hill that forms the line of
horizon ; a curved avenue; a ground-line that is oblique
to the basement of the house on either of its chief fronts;
diagonal lines of walk on lawns, or walks crossing or starting
from other straight walks at any but a right angle ; plants
trimmed into formal or grotesque figures, unless it be the
heads of standards,—plants with naturally appropriate habits,
or confined in tubs, being preferable ; gravel-walks in flower-
gardens that are inaccessible ; monograms, or very intricate
patterns, in which the beds are too small to admit flowers,
for parterres ; and the employment of pavements, gravels,
or sands, of different colours, in the place of flowers, or
merely for producing variety or contrast.
“ Among the most characteristic details of architectural
gardening, prominence should be given to terraces; broad,
flat, and .conspicuous walks ; extreme smoothness and po¬
lish ; changes of level, effected by formal banks or walls ;
PLANTING.
775
!w!- ltC,f anll],sunk.en. !,anels; avenues, vistas, rows of Landmape
flower-beds ; walks and vistas terminating with some proper Gardening.
object, as a temple, obelisk, pillar, &c.; rectangular forms W, '
or those in which various segments of a circle are combined •
with a sunk fence and parapet-wall as boundaries to a gar’
den. I here are likewise many desirable accessories, of
which a few may be noted. These are,—a sufficient breadth
ot open lawn between the house and the park; a detached
flower-garden, with accompanying plant-houses, glass walls,
or walls for ornamental climbers, and the opportunity of
looking down upon this garden from a raised terrace; a
lose gaulen in a retired spot, with attendant rose-house, or
houses for delicate sorts ; a winter garden, to be filled ex-
sively with evergreens, the beds arranged in pattern, with a
due admixture of specimens, and all the plants selected with
reference to their habits and the colour of their foliage in
winter; a garden for bulbs, florists’ flowers, &c., in Isome
spot which need not be made accessible during the winter •
standard or fastigiate plants ; plants that blend best with
architectural objects; groups or beds of plants, in which
one kind or class prevails; and hedges, whether to frame
and. inclose scenes that it is wished to detach, or in a
diminutive state, to make borders and edgings to flower¬
beds and clumps.
“ In practically applying the principles of architectural
gardening, it should be remembered that, as extreme irre¬
gularity is a merit and a beauty in most kinds of Gothic
architecture, the garden accompanying it will also bear to
be treated in an equally irregular manner. But, in relation
to any variety of Grecian or Italian house, the garden, like
the architecture, should be more distinguished by symmetry
and regularity. Architectural gardening would further be
out of place in connection with a house inferior in design,
or destitute of character and style. It is peculiarly suitable
for a tame and smooth general landscape; but is quite ad¬
missible, for contrast, in a picturesque, bold, and wild region.
It specially demands that everything should be good and
nicely finished ; that the plants shall be of the best and
most carefully-selected kinds; the grass evenly laid; the
figures, and beds, and edgings of walks neatly and accu¬
rately cut; the gravel fine and well laid, and its smoothness
(and that of the edgings) not obviously broken by gratings.
The edgings, too, should all be particularly shallow, the
edges of terrace-banks quite square and even at the top,
and the soil in the beds and clumps very slightly raised
above the level of the lawn. The spaces for specimens,
flower-beds, and masses of shrubs should, moreover, be cut
out of the flat lawn, and not have the grass curved up to
them, as in the more natural style of treatment. And all
the lines, whether of walks or other edgings, ought to be
extremely straight or regular, thoroughly well-beaten and
level, and the grass be very fine and smooth.
“The practice of employing masses of evergreens to
cover changes of level in grounds, to break the transition
between a terrace-bank and a natural slope, to fill up the
corners of terraces and relieve the hardness and bareness
of their walls, and in many ways to reconcile discrepant
lines in the form of ground, is one which I have largely
and for several years adopted. And I have invariably
found it of the greatest possible service, while the result
obtained from it is always satisfactory. Indeed this seems to
be the only feasible and really thorough solution of a problem
which every practitioner who has to direct the shaping of
ground about houses must be constantly encountering.”
776 P L A
Planudes PLANUDES, Maximus, a learned Byzantine monk,
|| flourished at the court of Constantinople in the first halfot
La Plata. j]ie fourteenth century. His inquisitive, self-confident mind
seems to have meddled with many branches of knowledge.
He dipped into politics, and was sent in 1327 on an embassy
to Venice. He tampered with controversial theology, and
was lodged in prison for his leaning towards the creed of
the Roman Church. His interest in the exact sciences
was also great, as his manuscript work on the Indian Diode
of Calculation sufficiently testifies. (See Arithmetic.)
Nor wras time wanting for dabbling in classical literature,
and for making Greek versions of Cicero's Somnium Sci-
pionis, Caesar’s De Bello Gallico, and other Latin works.
But it was in the character of an editor of Greek epigrams
that Planudes chiefly recommends himself to the notice
of posterity. His object was to abridge and re-arrange
the scarce Anthology of Constantinus Cephalus. Careless
and devoid of poetical taste, he blundered along, choosing
and omitting at random. Occasionally his clumsy hand
expunged whole couplets to make room for stiff and pro¬
saic verses of his own, which his self-conceit imagined to
be better. The ungainly collection was completed in
P L A
seven books, and owing to the scarcity of other antholo- Plassey
gies, continued for a long time to be popular, and to pass II
through many editions. The latest and most perfect edi- Ija Plata>
tion is that of De Bosch and Van Lennep, in 5 vols. 4to, ^
Utrecht, 1795-1822.
PLASSEY, a village of British India, in the district of
Nuddea, presidency of Bengal, on the left bank of the
Hooghly, 96 miles N. of Calcutta. It is memorable as the
scene of the victory that laid the foundation of the British-
Indian empire. On the 23d of June 1757, Clive, with a
force of 900 Europeans and 2100 Sepoys, crossed the river
to attack 68,000 men under Sooraj-oo-Dowlah, soubahdar of
Bengal. After much cannonading on both sides, Meer
Jaffier, who was in the interest of the British, advised the
soubahdar to retreat. Clive immediately advanced, routed
the army, and took the camp of the soubahdar, who was
dethroned to make way for the traitor Meer Jaffier.
PLASTER, in Pharmacy, an external application of a
harder consistence than an ointment, and which is, accord¬
ing to the different circumstances of the wound, place, or
patient, spread either upon linen or upon leather.
Plaster of Paris. See Gypsum.
PLATA. LA.
The United Provinces of the Rio de La Plata, otherwise
called the Argentine Confederation, a country of South
America, lies between S. Lat. 22. 20. and 40. 56., and be¬
tween W. Long. 55. 20. and 70. 30.; and is bounded on the
N. by Bolivia; E. by Paraguay, Brazil, and Uruguay; S.E.
by the Atlantic ; S. by Patagonia; and W. by Chile. It ex¬
tends from the eastein slope of the Andes to the rivers Para¬
guay and Uruguay, which separate it from the respective
countries of these names ; and on the S. it is divided by the
Rio Negro from Patagonia; but there is no natural boundary
on the side of Bolivia. The country thus bounded includes
the province of Buenos Ayres, which is at present inde¬
pendent of the Confederation. But as the existing arrange¬
ment is merely provisional, it will be included in the general
description of the country. The greatest length of the
country is about 1260 miles from N. to S., the breadth
varies from 500 to 800, and the area is estimated at
786,000 square miles. The country is partly mountainous,
but about five-sixths of its area is occupied by immense
plains.
Mountains. The Andes in the southern parts of La Plata are com¬
paratively little known. They consist of two parallel ranges,
of which the western, being the more elevated, forms the
boundary-line of Chile and La Plata. The general elevation
of these mountains is 12,000 or 13,000 feet above the sea;
and they are crossed by several passes. North of the 37th
degree of latitude the country is better known ; the same
character prevails, the distance between the ranges varying
from 30 to 80 miles. About 33. 30. S. Lat. they approach
to about 20 miles of each other, and between them lies the
elevated valley of Tunuyan, 7500 feet above the sea.
Farther north the mountains again recede, forming the
wider valley of Uspallata, on the west side of which rises
Aconcagua, the loftiest known volcano in the world. North
of the 30th parallel the mountains extend over 120 miles of
breadth, and form three parallel chains,—the Andes proper
to the west, the Sierra Famatina, and the Sierra Velasco,—
none of these ranges being so high as the more southerly
ones. North of this point the Andes send out branches far
to the east; so that the whole of the N. W. of La Plata,fas far
as the Rio Vermejo, is a mountainous region. The loftiest
. part of this region, known by the name of El Despoblado, or
“ The Desert,” occupies the extreme N.W. of the country,
and is a level plateau 13,000 feet high. From this table¬
land several mountain chains diverge in different directions,
—the principal being the Sierra Ambato and Sierra An-
casta, stretching S.E.; and the Sierra Aconquija, a branch
of the Sierra Ambato, towards the N.E. The north-eastern
part of La Plata, near the Paraguay, is also mountainous ;
and in various parts of the country there are ranges of hills
and mountains which would be conspicuous anywhere ex¬
cept near the Andes.
By far the greater portion of La Plata is low and flat, Plains,
constituting what are called the pampas. 1 hese occupy
the whole breadth of the country, from the 33d degree of
latitude to the Rio Negro; and they are divided by ele¬
vated regions into various parts, in which the soil varies
considerably in fertility. The eastern and wrestern portions
of the plain also differ in their character; and there are
three marked belts or regions stretching across the pampas
from north to south. For about 180 miles west of Buenos
Ayres the ground is covered with clover and thistles alter¬
nately. In winter and spring the luxuriant and shaggy
leaves of the thistle give the whole region the appearance
of a vast turnip field ; and in the former season the clover,
which is very rich, is grazed on by herds of wild cattle. In
summer the thistles rapidly shoot up to the height of 10 or
11 feet, and become so strong and dense as to form an im¬
penetrable thicket. In autumn the thistles wither and die,
the dry stems continuing to rattle in the wind until they
are laid low by the hurricanes of the region. West of this
region an immense plain, covered with long grass, stretches
for about 450 miles. There are also lakes of salt water,
and salt marshes overgrown with reeds, in this plain, the soil
of which is strongly impregnated with muriate of soda, giv¬
ing even the grass a salt taste. Beyond this a tract of country
extends to the foot of the Andes, covered with low thorny
trees and bushes, and having a soil which, though arid,
sandy, and saline, only requires irrigation to bear the most
abundant crops. The western portions of the pampas have
been very little explored except along the banks of the
rivers; but their character in the northern part of the
plain, which is traversed by the road from Buenos Ayres to
Mendoza, is well known. The plains of Patagonia, which
extend southward from the Rio Negro to the Strait of Ma¬
gellan, and are claimed by La Plata, are described under
La Plata. Patagonia. North of the pampas, between the Sierra
Velasco and a parallel ridge of hills called the Sierra de
Cordova, there is a level plain, only a few feet above the
sea-level, covered with an incrustation of salt, from which
it has got the name of Great Salina. But the most remark¬
able plain in La Plata, next to the pampas, is that called the
Gian Chaco, which occupies the N.E. portion of the country,
and covers an area of 120,000 square miles. It is very
little known, being but thinly peopled, and that chiefly by
Indians. I lie southern part is an arid, sandy desert;
while the northern portion is covered with extensive forests.
Between the Gran Chaco, which extends as far south as 30°,
and the pampas, lies an undulating country of considerable
fertility; and the country between the Parana and Uru¬
guay is occupied with hills, forests, and pastoral plains.
1 he coast of the country, extending from the estuary of
the La Plata to the mouth of the Rio Negro, has few in¬
dentations, and is in general low, consisting of sand-hills or
cliffs of little elevation. I he principal promontory is Cape
Conientes, in S. Lat. 38.6., which is a high and rather bold
headland. Samborombon Bay and Bahia Blanca are the
only bays on the coast; the latter contains Port Belgrano,
the best and most capacious harbour south of 25. Lat.’
and the nearest point on the Atlantic from which a com¬
munication might be established with Conception on the
Pacific.
The principal rivers of La Plata are those which fall into
PLATA, LA.
777
Coast.
liivers and
lakes
the estuary from which the country derives its name. (See
Plata, Rzo de la.) Besides these, La Plata contains few
rivers of any size. The Rio Salado of Buenos Ayres flows
through the pampas, and falls into the Atlantic. It is dry
m summer, and can be used neither for navigation nor irri¬
gation. Farther south is the Rio Colorado, rising in the
Andes, and flowing S.E. to the sea. Its whole leno-th is
between 500 and 600 miles, of which it is navigable for
about 100. The Rio Negro also rises in the Andes by two
blanches, and flows at first N.E.; and after receiving the
Neuquen from the north, it flows E. and S.E. to the At¬
lantic. _ Its whole length is nearly 600 miles, and it is navi¬
gable for large boats about 500.
Numerous rivers take their rise in the eastern declivities
of the Andes, and after irrigating considerable tracts of
country, are either absorbed by the soil or flow into inland
lakes. Amongst these may be mentioned the Rio Dolce,
which originates in the lofty mountains of Tucuman, and'
after watering the capital of the same name, passing near
Santiago del Estero, capital of the province so named, and
traversing Cordova, is lost in a salt lake situated in that
province, and called “ lagunas saladas de los Porongos.”
The Rio de San Juan and the Rio de Mendoza rise in the
valley of Uspallata, and flow, the one from its northern and
the other from its southern opening, into the lagoon of
Guanacache, which is one of a series of lakes between
31. 40. and 32. S. Lat. These lakes are drained by a river
called the Desaguadero, which flows S. and E. for 250
miles into another group of lakes, called Belvedere, be¬
tween 33. 30. and 34. 30. S. Lat. They receive also
the Tunuyan from the valley of the same name. Another
branch of this river flows south, and, joining the Rio Dia¬
mante and the Chadi Leubu from the Andes, flows into the
Urre Lauquen, a lake but little known, in 37. S. Lat.
Lakes are distributed over the whole expanse of the pam¬
pas, and some of them are of considerable size; but they
cannot be said to correspond in grandeur to the other fea¬
tures of this region. The soil is almost everywhere im¬
pregnated with salt; and the water of most of the lakes and
pools is biackish and disagreeable to the taste. So plenti¬
fully is this saline matter distributed, that whole tracts of
country are covered with its efflorescence. But a want of
watei is universally experienced; for notwithstanding the
numbei of lakes and inferior rivers, many of them disappear
vol. xvn.
during the dry season. A growth of rushes overspreads their La Plata,
bottoms, serving as lairs for the pumas, that lie in wait for ^ '
the cattle, as perishing of thirst, they fly to the green staff-
nant water which lies on the marly surface and swarms with
myriads of mosquitos.
The geology of this country presents little variety, and Heoloav
scarcely anything that is interesting. Rocks are seldom 8
seen, except in the mountainous region. Where they do
occur, they are generally granitic, covered in some places
with quartz. Some gypsum is found in the vicinity of
Buenos Ayres, and limestone is said to occur in several
places. I he stones used in paving the streets or in build¬
ing are brought from the island of Martin Garcia, at the
mouth of the Uruguay, or as ballast in vessels from Europe
Ihe soil of the pampas is a rich mould, perfectly free
from stones, not one being seen on its surface for many
hundred miles together. One of the most remarkable fea¬
tures of this region is the number of fossil remains, chiefly
of immense quadrupeds, which are found in the soil of the
plains.
The mineral productions are gold and silver, copper, tin,
lead, and iron (of which large masses are often found), salt-
petie, alum, sulphur, marine salt, and bituminous shale;
and there are also numerous mineral springs besides the
saline lakes already mentioned, from which salt can be
procured.
.The. topical climate which prevails in the northern dis- Climate
tncts disappears more and more towards the south ; so that
snow and ice are not unknown. Upon the east coast the air
is humid, and rain, thunder, and violent storms are not un¬
frequent ; but in the western district the atmosphere is free
from vapour, rain is unfrequent, dew never falls, and the
drought is often very great. The climate of the pampas
is subject to a great difference of temperature in winter and
summer, although the gradual changes are very regular.
The winter is about as cold as November is in Englancf, and
the ground at sunrise is invariably covered with white frost
but the ice is very thin. In summer the sun is oppres¬
sively hot; and not only is manual labour suspended durino-
the middle of the day, but even the wild horses and cattle
are exhausted by it. The only great irregularity in the cli¬
mate is the pampero, or S. W. wind, which sweeps over these
plains with a velocity and a violence which it is impossible
to withstand. These periodical visitations, however, pro¬
duce beneficial effects, the weather being particularly agree¬
able after they have exhausted their fury ; and, taken"as a
whole, the pampas may be said to enjoy as beautiful and
as salubrious an atmosphere as the most healthy parts of
Greece and Italy, and without being subject to malaria.
With regard to humidity, the atmosphere varies much in
different parts of the country. In the provinces of Men¬
doza and San Luis, or in the regions of wood and grass,
the air is very dry, and there is no deposition of dew at
night; but in Buenos Ayres a considerable quantity of
moisture prevails in the atmosphere, probably from "the
vicinity of the place to the ocean.
In some parts of La Plata there are wooded tracts, con- Produc-
sisting of palms, cedars, and other trees; but from the Rio tions.
de la Plata to the Straits of Magelhaens, as well as through¬
out the most part of the pampas, we find neither tree nor
shrub. In the country north of the Gran Salina tropical
productions are raised, such as mandioc, rice, maize, sugar,
cotton, and tobacco; while the Paraguay tea plant, ^the
cactus that bears the cochineal insect, the aloe from the
fibres of which ropes and cordage are made, and other
plants, grow wild here. In the southern regions wheat and
maize are principally grown. Cultivation hardly extends be¬
yond the banks of the Parana and the mouths of the other
Ihe N.W. part of the country is chiefly agricul-
nvers.
tural, while the eastern and southern regions abound in pas¬
ture land. The fruits of Southern Europe grow in La Plata
778
PLATA, LA.
La Plata.
Animals.
This country has long been celebrated for the abundance
of its cattle, horses, sheep, goats, asses, mules, and swine.
The horses are both wild and tame, and the "ll™ber^f
them as well as of the cattle, is immense. I he num
her of cattle in 1851 was estimated at twelve millions; and
the horses, mules, and asses are probably far more than
four millions. Amongst the wild animals may be men¬
tioned the jaguar, the puma (which may be said to repre¬
sent the lion In the New World), the carpincho or water-
hog, tajassu, tapir, armadillo, guanaco, monkey, deer, many
snecies of serpents, locust, mosquito, wasp, ant, bee, &c.
Amono-st the birds of this country may be mentioned the
condor” Brazilian-eagle, many hawks, emu, crax, guan, wild
turkey, parrots, troupiales, woodpeckers, many species
duck, &c. Near the Andes, and on the banks of the Paiana,
bees are kept, and wax is collected. The cochineal msec
is also reared. Of fish, there are various kinds in the rivers ,
and along the coast whales and seals (which yield train-oi
and fish-bone for exportation), sharks and turtles, are oun .
Inhabitants The population of La Plata is very various in its charac¬
ter and origin. It consists of natives, of Spaniards of
races ofmixednative and Spanish blood, of Negroes, and o
European immigrants. The Indians themselves are not all
of the same race, but belong to three different classes. In
the mountains and valleys of the N.W. dwells a race of
Peruvian origin, speaking the Quichua language; east ot
the Parana lives a race of Guaranis, who are also spread
over a large part of Brazil; and the southern part ot the
country is occupied by Araucanian tribes. Of the natives
but a small proportion are subject to the dominant race,
and these are only found in the northern provinces. In
some places these natives live in villages separate from the
white population. The independent Indians^ who inhabit
the Gran Chaco and the pampas south of 35. S. Lat., are
often at war with the Europeans. With the exception of
those tribes who have been taught husbandry by the
Jesuits, these people all lead a nomadic life, being almost
constantly on horseback, and subsisting on the chase and
the produce of their flocks and herds. The tribes of the
Gran Chaco, though having no friendly intercourse with
the Spaniards, are not constantly at war with them ; but
those of the pampas carry on their hostilities almost with¬
out intermission. They were at one time restricted to
the regions south of the 33d parallel", and at present
they are by treaty forbidden to cross the Rio Negro with¬
out permission, but they pay very little attention to this
restriction. They are divided into families, each under a
chief, who has very little power except in war. The
Spaniards, who are the dominant race, form a very small
proportion of the population ; but in many parts the bulk
of the people is composed of the mixed races. Of
these mixed races, the most remarkable are the Gauchos,
or rustics of the pampas. They live in huts of osiers
and mud; but the greater part of their time is spent on
horseback, hunting the wild cattle and horses of the plains.
Their dress consists of a coarse jacket and breeches, over
which is a poncho or square woollen mantle, with a slit in the
middle for the head; abroad straw hat; and boots made of the
skin of a horse’s hind leg, without a seam. They frequently
wear silver buckles, silver-mounted knives, and silver-rowel-
led spurs. Their peculiar weapons are the lasso, or long
leather thong and noose, and the bolas, or two balls at¬
tached to a leather thong. Both these missiles they handle
with great dexterity, seldom failing to hit their mark : the
lasso they throw round the neck or horns of the animal, the
bolas round the legs. There were at one time numerous
Negro slaves in some of the provinces of La Plata; and
though slavery has been abolished since the revolution,
their descendants still form a distinct class among the in¬
habitants.
The manufactures of La Plata are few and unimportant,
as the great mass of the people are employed in agricultu- La Plata.
ral or pastoral pursuits. The most important manufacture  -/ '
is that of ponchos, which are made of the finest quality at Manufac-
Santiago. Various other woollen fabrics are made for dresses tures.
and other purposes. The wearing apparel, knives, spurs,
household furniture, &c., of the peasantry are to a large
extent imported, and are generally of British manufacture.
A large amount of internal commerce is carried on Commerce,
among the different provinces, as most of them produce
articles that are not found in the others. There is also
some trade by land with the neighbouring countries of Peru,
Bolivia, and Chile ; and through the Rio de la Plata com¬
mercial relations are kept up with other foreign countries.
This commerce is chiefly carried on through Buenos Ayres;
and since the separation of that province from the other
thirteen, through Rosario. Cotton cloth, calico, linen,
woollen,’ and silken fabrics, leather, hardware, cutlery, glass,
earthenware, arms, ammunition, &c., are imported from
Great Britain ; wines, silk, perfumery, jewellery, &c., from
France ; and various other articles from other parts of
Europe,’ the United States, Brazil, &c. The principal
articles exported from La Plata are mules, salt beef, hides,
horns, and wool. The annual value of the imports is about
L.208,000, and that of the exports L.230,000.
The provinces of La Plata form a federal republic simi- Govern-
lar to that of the United States of North America. Each ment-
province is so far independent that it has its own constitu¬
tion, its legislature, and executive ; while there is at the
same time a federal Congress and a president of the whole
confederacy. The Congress consists of two chambers,—the
lower one composed of 38 deputies, elected directly by the
people ; and the upper of 28 senators, named by the pro¬
vincial legislatures. The authority of the Congress extends
to the relations of the republic with foreign states, and the
financial affairs of the nation. The president is elected in¬
directly by the people for the period of six years. The
capital and part of the territory are under tlm immediate
government of the president and Congress. The army of
the confederacy amounts to 5000 men ; and there is a na¬
tional militia that may be called out in time of war. 1 he
national finances are in a very bad condition ; the paper
currency is very much depreciated; and the debt amounts
to a large sum. The annual public expenditure is about
LAO,000. The established religion in La Plata is the
Roman Catholic, but all others are tolerated. Education
is not very far advanced; but in the chief towns it is in a
better state than in most parts of South America.
The confederation of La Plata consists at present of rovinces.
thirteen provinces, besides the country occupied by the
Indians. The provinces, with their area, population, and
capitals, are as follows :—
Provinces.
Cordova  
Catamarca  
Corrientes  
Entre Rios 
Juyjuy 
Salta 
Mendoza 
Rioja 
Santiago del Estero.
San Juan  
Santa Fe 
San Luis 
Tucuman 
Sq. Miles.
45,780
38,150
j 12,720 |
I
55.100
47,050
58.500
69,620
39.100
40,900
35,800
41,960
Pop.
150,000
70,000
84,600
50,000
j 40,000 \
\ 60,000 J
60,000
40,000
80,000
40,000
32,000
40,000
60,000
Capitals.
Cordova.
Catamarca.
Corrientes.
Parana.
Salta.
Mendoza.
Rioja.
Santiago.
San Juan.
Santa F6.
San Luis.
Tucuman.
Total 484,680 806,600
We proceed to describe the several provinces in detail.
Cordova is bounded on the N. by Santiago and Catamarca, Cordova.
E. by Santa F6, S. by the Indian territory and Buenos Ayres,
and W. by San Luis and Rioja. It is occupied in the central and
western portions by the Sierra de Cordova and its branches, from
which many rivers flow, the principal being the Sercero, an aiflu-
La Plata.
Catamarca
Corrientes
Entre Rios
Jujuy and
Salta.
lendoza.
■ioja.
fertila an? n8' T llS ^ pr°Vince> the soil bei»g ^ich and
e/co lent na^ra lrrig f' k U Pretty Wel1 woodedf possesses
capUal ofPthe , g ’ a • ab.°UndS in fine Cl0ver- Cordova, the
*4doe*p rey-
“'oV^r 'r5'"1' S Ij1,“ of «onside“.ble importenc™
CnJ k *h tSUltS' An active trade is carried on through
Plata CT4“oO 3 Aj"'e3 “d ‘he P™vince, of £a
Catamarca is 'a tract of country situated near the foot of the
£ and” bv rdlddby "“‘i"60’ »"4 ^onth:
dev. „„ the i i, .o„dr“f^itriXSSLrbu?;;
LahltL,, Theor^^X'rtL^^tZ^ in'
oa<t!,e',K"u ‘““‘l'1 .b?tW“ri the rivers Parana and Uruguay;
T vH 1®.b0UDded by state of Paraguay, E. by Brazil
parts7 of nthee Rl0S’ and W' by the Gran Chaco- The southern
parts of the province are well wooded and fertile the mlnoinVi
PIP uct.l0ns being cotton, tobacco, rice, and sugar. ’ The territory
navtuaW inte"“ted te»eral’rive™, fon.e of „“"b are
lakegYh f°r k- ^0I?slderable distance. Besides the celebrated
lake \ bera, which is very shallow, but covers sometimes 1000
square miles, there are in the province numerous sheets of water
face'of the^lob renp®red ^ ^ the most fertile countries TtS
the banks of th. P Corrientes’.the. capital, is admirably situated on
tbe banks of the Parana, near its junction with the Paraguay It
is a very ancient city, and contains several public building’ Its
position is very good for commercial purposes. Pop. 7843° ’
Entre Rios is situated between the two great rivers Parana and
E'bfTuguav18 sTv B^ ^ ^ by tbe Province of CoSes!
m. oy Uruguay, 8. by Buenos Ayres, and W. bv Santiao-o it r,™
JSe .Wbu0d ‘r “r’ b“,* ^
abounded, „e mucb“d„’eedta Zu™
..on, stand, on the left bank of .be
theatre, and Mv3l cWhef Tn activetad0^”1’"''^11''3’’ “
isHSrSsgSS
h^SXby0^
.er“;'.„dTberrch8r„™ ,tsr? Te Oordii-
iron of various qualities, sulphur, aluL vftrio and'thlre aC°PP,er’
indications of the existence of tin and quicksilver Many br k
of mountains, off-shoots from the colossal chain of tba I b anches
SalL thTcTpLha0loOfTheOl!ateral h™n?hea of the Andes is situated
and Loner fil w tbe Province of that name, in Lat. 24. 15. S
"“r^tt^y^ofp:^ leadi^ fr0m Ayres
long been a nlan/^r * 11 Was founded in 3582, and has
regin. The eHmate^L^er0 iryetySeali ^ ^-^‘P-P1^
amounts to about 9000 souls ’The town of T ^ P°Pulatl0n
of the same name in a couni™ • l • of JuJuy stands on a river
fFor pn accnnni y nch ln Precious metals.
doza.j 6 Province and town of Mendoza, see Men-
Abndernd,is bouni,ed •" th“
and W. by Chile Like the tv! y ^an ^uls and ®an Jnan,
mountainous; including tht Sierra I"""063 in thiS region’ it i9
which form the three parallelialleysiTGu an? Yelasco’
uauca. Rich silver mines are worked in the Sierra Fainatina.
PLATA, L A.
779
V I i
being south of the1 formerl^d^orthTfi JriTan Cordova’ Santiago
extent in all directions, and is one of the mn ^"'i VSu°f ^reat dei Estero.
vinces. Agriculture is the eh; c tbe ™°St fertlle of these pro-
Santiago. Honey wax mmv 6 , °C^I1Patlon tbe inbabitants of
obtained here, a/d some manufJrt 6 W0°dS’ cochineal- &c., are
of grain may here beT^^ Carried on- All kinds
slow to avail themselves of the idvant00’ y6t thG lnhabltants aro
The city of Santiago situated ! ^ FS Presented by nature,
dova, in 27. 55. I. Lat., and 63 IcTw ^ Bohvi.a throiigh Cor-
portance. Pop. 4000. ' " 18 °P little im-
San Juan is bounded on the N. bv Rioln p n a » ,
Mendoza, and W. by Chile. In the north of the 7 ^ LulS’ S- by San Juan-
fom, gold mioe,, w^icb „„ work€‘de ^ T
IS remarkably fertile, nroducino- whooi extent. The country
abundance. The prodLe of the oL- nl’ Yt*’ ^ and vines in
in Buenos Ayres • Pbut the native« T Plaatat!ons 18 macb esteemed
the cultivation of the v'ne which !ow^eir ^ to
making of wines and brandies, which they e^rt in R and t0 ^
ties as far as Potosi, Buenos Ayres Santa!- P i 1 g® ^uant‘-
ta thf rep3„blfc°’ "p^p.Vooo.'”1”0113' 0“e ‘““‘'“Cieutpbfcf,
Santa Fe is bounded on the N. by the Gran rha™ i? i. t. ^
Rios, S. by Buenos Ayres, and W. by Cordova This fertiW En<tre Santa F®’
is irrigated by numerous rivers some of whin'h Pert‘le country
ingof'eatti1116'dTPl0yniehnfc °f t,he inhabitanta consists iriThe^breed-
fifenos ! and ,h°rSeVhe SkinS °f Which animals are conveyed to
bank of fh^p' G’ the CaPital> is silaated on the western
depatforgUsl^thrrteM8 nh^nW^ a
to about 4000. The largest town in the province i Rosado^Svh
occupies the farthest south, and therefore most important S
wesT7 n'Ts T50the l^T4’ brg near6St t0 thePmaraketsPOof the
• is 150 miles above the confluence of the Uruguay and
In 77’ 17 tb!riVer i8 here navigable for ships drawing 14 feet
290 tonn!e 11 000 4 T that entered and cleared were
, tonnage, 11,000; value of cargoes, L.760,000. Pop 12 000
San Luis is bounded on the E. by Cordova, S. by the territory of 8 1 •
RW« W- ^ Lan, aad Nyby S*“ L"'a'
inhnh't fh 18 P®°r; and though the climate is salubrious the
often Z,T ^ Ae'^turo U not pursued to’any
extent, but large numbers of cattle are reared. San Luis the cani
tal is a very ancient town, and the only place of any importance^
e journey between Buenos Ayres and Mendoza. It isMtuated in
a fertile valley at the foot of the Sierra de Cordova. Pop 1500
lucuman one of the most important and fertile provinces in the Tne..™n
republ.c, „ bounded by Salta on tbe N., and by SantiagoTd Cat.- T“C"",*,,•
maxca on the S. and S. W. It contains mines of gold, siHer copper
and lead; but these are only worked to a small extent. The other pro-
sanlTfbT Wheat; maiZe,’ riC6’ SUgar’ and tobacco^ of which thou-
and nth uare efP°rted to Cordova,San Luis, San Juan,Mendoza,
and other cities, bruits of various sorts are abundant; and pota¬
toes here attain an enormous size. Tucuman, the capital of the
«7V!nCer waTStragglri,ng City’ Situated in 26- 50- of S. Lat., and
hei‘!/ f ^J0Ilg• ° the WeSt °f the City is a mountain of great
height, from which numerous rivers descend to fertilize and beautify
the surrounding territory. Along all the lower parts of this moun¬
tain are immense clusters of trees, and amongst them many of
bitter oranges. The city is surrounded by these woody tracts in
which the trees sometimes attain an extraordinary size, and’the
timber is of the best quality used in America. The houses in gene¬
ral areof an inferior description; but the place is memorable from
PopSOOO taken a dl8tinguishedPart in the revolutionary struggle.
jrt° 7!SPrrd8A bel0ngS the hOUOnr °f first discovering this„. t
part of the South American continent. In the year 1516 Juan Hlst0I7-
Dias de Sohs, having been furnished by the court of Spain with
two ships for the purpose of exploring Brazil, arrived, in the
course of his voyage, at the mouth of the Rio de la Plata. Touch!
ing on the N coast between Maldonado and Alonte Video he took
possession of the land in name of his sovereign • hot tnV «•
hi, guard by the deceitful fneud.bip ofTe'S’ve.^t.T.lto
along with a few attendants who had followed him on shore The
coast was immediately abandoned by the survivors on board of the
vessels ; but m the year 1526 a fresh expedition, under the cell
brated Sebastian Cabot, then in the service of Spain entered the
mer, and cast anchor opposite the site of the present Buenos Ayres.
780
PLATA, LA.
La Plata This took place at the time when a Spanish captain called Garcia
La Plata. Thrs too^p in other parts of th same river Advancing
about 300 miles upwards, Cabot discovered a fine rl™r’Terce ,
flowing into the main stream. Up this he sailed with his fleet and
disembarking his men, built a fort, in which he left a garrison
whilst he himself, with his remaining followers, pursued his
veries still farther up the river. The Indians with whom he
came in contact exhibited abundance of gold and silver plate ,
particularly the latter, brought by them from the eastern parts o
Peru This circumstance led Cabot to believe that mines of the
precious metals existed in the country in which he then was ; an
accordingly he gave the name of Rio de la Plata, or River of Si ,
to the noble stream by which it was watered. The SP^nlards
determined on colonizing this valuable acquisition ; and, to Pre^
any interference on the part of the other nations of Europe, Don
Pedro de Mendoza, with two or three thousand followers, was sent
from Spain to secure the possession, and establish a relationship
between it and the mother country. He landed upon the western
shore of the La Plata in the year 1535, and founded the city of
Buenos Ayres, which he so named from the salubrity of the climate.
Pursuing his way into the interior, he explored all the country as
far as Potosi, at which mines of silver were discovered nine years
afterwards. The first settlers at Buenos Ayres were most unfor¬
tunate ; their town was burned by the Indians, and after suflering
every privation, they were shortly afterwards compelled to abandon
the place. Previously to this event, Assumption, the capital of
Paraguay, had been founded; and thither the wretched remains of
the expedition retreated. A second armament was fitted out, and
an attempt made to rebuild the town, in 1542 ; but it was over¬
whelmed by a calamity similar to that which had overtaken the
former. The chief attention of the Spaniards was for some time
directed to forming settlements in Paraguay, in order to facilitate
their communication with the mines of Peru, where Pizarro and
his successors were gathering in a rich harvest. Contentions
with the Indians were frequent and bloody, for the Guarani Indians
of the vast plains upon either bank of the La Plata proved much
more diflicult to subdue than the timid and tractable Peruvians.
It was not until the year 1580 that the Europeans succeeded in
their attempts to found a town upon the site chosen by Mendoza.
Before this period, however, they had established themselves at
Santa Ed, Mendoza, and some other places in the interior ; so that,
as Dr Southey observes, the history of this part of South America
differs from that of any other colony in one remarkable circum¬
stance,—the first permanent settlement was formed in the heart of
the country, and the Spaniards colonized from the interior towards
the sea. But they were not permitted quietly to enjoy the success
of their third attempt to found Buenos Ayres. Stimulated by the
recollection of their previous triumphs in demolishing the works
of the invaders on the same ground, the Indians once more attacked
it; but the town was so well fortified and garrisoned as to bid de¬
fiance to their efforts. From this period the city began to prosper;
and the ship which carried to Castille the intelligence of its re¬
foundation took home a cargo of sugar, and the first hides with
which Europe was supplied from the wild cattle which now began
to overspread the country, and soon produced a total change in the
manners of all the adjoining tribes. The immense pampas of La
Plata appear to have been originally stocked with cattle from a few
which had been brought by the earliest settlers; and so rapidly
had they multiplied that, about the year 1610, no less than a
million is said to have been driven from the country in the neigh¬
bourhood of Santa Fe into Peru.
From the first period of the colonization of this country till the
year 1778, the government was dependent on that of Peru, although
the chief of Buenos Ayres had the title of Captain-General. A false
idea of what constitutes wealth led Spain to estimate the value of
her possessions by the number and richness of their mines of gold
and silver; and Buenos Ayres being deficient in these, its more
solid advantages of a fertile soil and a salubrious climate were
consequently overlooked. The pernicious system of policy prac¬
tised by Spain towards her colonies was the main cause wThy this
city remained for such a length of time almost entirely unknown
to Europeans. Apprehensive lest commodities might be introduced
into Peru by way of Buenos Ayres, and thus prejudice the sale of
the cargoes imported by the fleets which they sent to Panama, the
early traders solicited and obtained from the government the pro¬
hibition of every kind of commerce by the Rio de la Plata. Those
whom this measure most nearly affected put in a strong remon¬
strance against it, and were so far successful that, in 1602, per¬
mission was granted them to export for six years, in two vessels
belonging to themselves, and on their own account, a certain
quantity of flour, tallow, and jerked beef, but only to two ports.
Upon the expiration of the term, an indefinite prolongation was
solicited, with an extension to all kinds of merchandise, and liberty
to trade also with other ports. This application was vehemently
opposed • but notwithstanding, in the year 1618, the inhabitants La Plata,
of the shores of the Rio de la Plata were authorized to fit out two
vessels, not exceeding 100 tons burden each. Several other vexa¬
tious restrictions were imposed on them ; and to prevent any traffic
with the interior of Peru, a custom-house was established at Cor¬
dova del Tucuman, where a duty of 50 per cent, was levied upon
all imports. This custom-house was also designed to prevent the
transmission of the precious metals from Peru to Buenos Ayres,
even in payment for mules furnished by the latter city. By an
order of 1622 the permission previously given was prolonged for
an indefinite period ; and with a view to promote the prosperity
of the country, a royal audiencia was established at Buenos Ayres
in 1665. „
Under such a miserable system of policy, it is not surprising
that the provinces of the Rio de la Plata languished in indigence
and obscurity. But the resources of so extensive and fertile a
territory could not remain for ever concealed. As the population
and wealth of the country increased, the continual remonstrances
of the people at last opened the eyes of the Spanish government to
the importance of the colony, and a relaxation took place in the
system of commercial monopoly which had hitherto been rigorously
adhered to. Indeed the absurd restrictions had been followed by
their natural consequence, smuggling ; and to such a height was
the contraband trade carried that, in order to put a stop to it, the
government of Castille gave permission to register ships to sail
under a license from the council of the Indies at any time of the
year. The flota which hitherto had embarked from Spain once a
year, and was the only legitimate means of communication with
America, dwindled away from 15,000 to 2000 tons of shipping ; and
in 1748 it sailed for the last time to Cadiz, after having carried on
the trade of Spanish America for two centuries. The register-
ships now supplied the market with European commodities at a
cheaper rate and at all seasons of the year; and from that time
Buenos Ayres gradually rose into importance. Other relaxations in
the mercantile system followed soon afterwards. In the year 1774
free trade was permitted between several of the American ports;
and this was subsequently followed by additional liberties.
The improvements which took place in Buenos Ayres by this
enlargement of its commercial relations were frequently interrupted
by circumstances which carry us back to an early period of its
history. The Spaniards and Portuguese have, by a singular coin¬
cidence, been destined to be rivals, not only in the Old, but in the
Hew World. The neighbouring territory of Brazil belonged to
Portugal, and bitter hostilities frequently took place between the
two countries. It is computed that, in the hostile incursions
which the Brazilians made into the Spanish possessions in this
quarter of America, they destroyed upwards of 400 towns and vil¬
lages. These marauders, the offspring of Portuguese, Dutch, French,
or Italians, by Brazilian women, were called Mamelucos. Their
principal object was to carry into slavery the Indians whom the
Jesuits had partially civilized; and in exercising their inhuman
trade they committed the most horrid enormities. It does not
appear that their acts were authorized by the government which
they professed to obey; for repeated decrees were passed in favour
of the oppressed Indians. These, however, were seldom or never
observed; and governors and others, who profited by the captivity
and sale of the native tribes, winked at the traffic. But the rivalry
and animosity of the Portuguese were productive of other results
besides those consequent on hostile incursions. We have alluded
to an extensive contraband trade, originating, in the first instance,
in the blind policy of Spain. This was chiefly carried on by the
Portuguese, who were enabled, by extending their settlements^ to
the banks of the Rio de la Plata, to organize a system of smuggling
which ultimately almost annihilated legitimate commerce. But
this illicit trade, though detrimental to the mother country, by
whom it was finally put down, contributed not a little to the pro¬
sperity of the colony.
In the year 1778 the provinces of the Rio de la Plata, Para¬
guay, Uruguay, and Bolivia were erected into a viceroyalty, of
which Buenos Ayres was constituted the capital. At the same
time, it was thrown open to free trade of every description, even
with the interior of Peru; and such was the effect of this whole¬
some measure that the number of vessels trading with South
America was at once augmented, and kept gradually increasing
from year to year.
In the year 1806 a British squadron, under the command of Sir
Home Popham, appeared in the Rio de la Plata. From this arma¬
ment a body of troops was landed, for the purpose of taking the
capital. The British force was small, but, by the culpable negli¬
gence of the viceroy, who does not appear to have made any attempt
to defend this important city, General Beresford accomplished his
object on the 26th of June. This rash and unauthorized enterprise
was fortunate in the first instance, but exceedingly disastrous in its
issue. The viceroy having retired to Cordova, Don Santiago Liniers
PLAT A, L A.
La Plata, a Frenchman in the service of Spain, put himself at the head of all
the troops he could collect on both hanks of the Plata, and on the
12th of August attacked the city at several points. So vigorous and
successful was the assault, that the British general and his troops
were compelled to surrender themselves prisoners of war. In the
meantime, British reinforcements arrived from the Cape of Good
Hope, whence the original expedition had sailed; and Sir Home
Popham, after making an unsuccessful attempt on Monte Video,
took Fort Maldonado, at the mouth of the River Plata. But the in¬
telligence of the first capture of Buenos Ayres was so well received
by the British public that government resolved on maintaining pos¬
session of the banks of the Plata ; and an armament was therefore
fitted out for effectually reducing the country. The first body of
troops, which were commanded by Sir Samuel Auchmuty, enabled
the British to undertake the conquest of Monte Video, which was
carried by storm in February 1807. In May following, General
Whitelocke arrived at the head of a formidable force; and about a
month afterwards these were joined by a further reinforcement
under General Crawford. The army now amounted to 8000 men,
and the chief command was confided to General Whitelocke, a man
destitute alike of courage and ability. The reduction of Buenos
Ayres was now resolved upon; the attacking army sailed up the
river, and, disembarking below the capital, marched towards it, but
met with a reception which was little anticipated. The inhabitants
of Buenos Ayres had made every preparation for a desperate re¬
sistance. The streets were intersected by deep ditches, defended
by cannon, and the windows and house-tops were thickly planted
with armed men. Ho sooner had the British troops begun to pene¬
trate the streets in columns than they were assailed by grape and
musketry, under which they perished in great numbers, without be¬
ing able to retaliate on the citizens. The cool, determined valour of
the troops, and the heroic energy of their leaders, were exerted in
vain. About one-third of the British army was either killed,
wounded, or taken prisoners, without any material advantage hav¬
ing been gained. In these circumstances, it would have been mad¬
ness to persist in such a mode of operation ; and next day an ar¬
mistice was concluded. A convention followed, the terms of which
were, that the British should evacuate the possessions on the Plata
in two months, and that all prisoners taken on both sides should be
restored. By this capitulation Monte Video, which might have
been safely maintained against any enemy, and which would have
afforded a secure depot for our manufactures, was also lost.
But the events which were now passing on the continent of
Europe were destined to change completely the aspect of affairs in
South America. The invasion of Spain by Napoleon in 1808 gave
the colonists an opportunity of throwing off their allegiance to the
mother country. The princess-regent of Portugal, claiming the
crown of Spain, despatched emissaries to La Plata to concert mea¬
sures for her residence at Buenos Ayres. Her proposals were re¬
ceived with enthusiasm; but when on the point of being crowned
with success, they were rendered abortive by the viceroy Cisneros,
who was a staunch supporter of the rights of Ferdinand VII.
From this period the principal supporters of the Princess Car-
lota changed their views, and formed plans of ultimately setting up
the standard of independence. After some political struggles, they
succeeded in deposing the viceroy, and, on the 25th of May 1810,
named a junta gubernativa, the leading member of which was Don
Mariano Moreno, the secretary. As the eyes of the people in the
provinces were opened to the daring nature of the step which had
been taken, the authority of the junta became more and more cir¬
cumscribed, and was soon reduced to the limits of Buenos Ayres.
Monte Video did not recognise it at all. But Moreno was nothing
aismayed by this want of support, and his measures became more
decisive as the emergency increased. He succeeded in expelling the
viceroy from the country; and had not the junta itself become di¬
vided, such a man at the head of affairs would have soon brought mat¬
ters to an issue. It became impossible for the j unta to exist in its then
disjointed state. Moreno and his party withdrew ; and he having
accepted a mission to England, unfortunately died on his passage.
The people of Buenos Ayres having so far succeeded in establish¬
ing their independence, considered themselves powerful enough to
proselytize in the provinces. A division of patriots under Ocampo
was sent against Cordova, where a formidable faction opposed to
the new order of things had been organized by Liniers; and this
leader was taken prisoner, and shot, along with several influential
persons. The opposition to the republicans was by these violent
measures put an end to ; but though nearly the whole of the country
was now in favour of independence, there were continual disputes
as to the form of government that should be established,—Buenos
Ayres endeavouring to obtain the supreme power, while the other
provinces contended for equal rights. In January 1813 a sovereign
constituent assembly was convened at Buenos Ayres. It was not
until now that the Spanish flag and cockade were replaced by the
bicolour. Now also the coinage bore the republican arms.
Monte Video still stoutly maintained the sinking cause of Spain :
the effort was unavailing. Twice the soldiers of the fortress,
in attacking the soldiers of Buenos Ayres, were driven back!
In 1812 the town was taken, when between 5000 and 6000 royalist
troops laid down their arms, and an immense quantity of military
stores was likewise given up. The changes which the government
of Buenos Ayres underwent we need not follow ; and the civil dis¬
sensions by which the country was afflicted are equally endless and
uninteresting. In 1816 a congress of deputies from all the pro¬
vinces met at Tucuman, which named General Pueyrredon director
of the republic, and declared the countries on the Plata independent.
An army was raised and disciplined to defend the country, and to
assist the people of Chile against their common enemy. The com-
bined forces gained over the Spaniards the two decisive victories
of Chacabuco (1817) and Maypu (1818). Various attempts were
made by the Spaniards to regain possession of La Plata, but they
were all without success; and finally their troops were totally de¬
feated by the republicans in July 1821. In 1824 the independence
of La Plata was recognised by the British government. The in¬
ternal dissensions in the country previous to the appointment of
Rosas dictator in 1835, and the events which led to his downfall and
flight in 1852, are briefly narrated in the article Buenos Ayres.
This event, which seemed to put an end to a protracted war, was iii
reality but the signal for fresh contests. The people of Buenos
Ayres, exulting in their newly-obtained liberty, were still animated
with all their old jealousy of the other provinces, and of General
Urquiza, who supported their rights. Accordingly, when the go¬
vernors of all the provinces, assembled by Urquiza at San Nicolas
appointed him provisory director until a general Congress, which
was to meet at Santa Fe, should prepare a constitution, the re¬
presentative assembly of Buenos Ayres accused Urquiza of attempt¬
ing to set up a new tyranny, and forbade the execution of the treaty
of San Nicolas. Urquiza, in the exercise of his provisory power, dis¬
solved the assembly, and occupied the city with his troops. While
thus possessed of supreme power, the director followed a more liberal
policy than Rosas, by acknowledging the independence of Para-
guay, opening the La Plata to ships of all nations, and permitting
free commerce in the interior of the country. But no sooner had
Urquiza quitted Buenos Ayres to attend the Congress at Santa Fe,
than a revolution took place in the town; his troops were obliged
to retire; the representative assembly again met, and appointed
General Pinto provisory governor of the province. But the pro¬
vince of Buenos Ayres itself soon became divided, the country ris-
ing against the town; civil war raged afresh ; and General Urquiza
besieged Buenos Ayres by land and sea. Meanwhile all the other
provinces sent deputies to the Congress of Santa Fe, which pre¬
pared a federal constitution, and published it May 1, 1853. The
representatives of Brazil and Bolivia attempted in vain to mediate
between the contending parties; and afterwards the ministers of
Great Britain and France interfered with as little success. On the
26th of June 1853 Commodore Coe, the commander of Urquiza’s
squadron at Buenos Ayres, influenced, it is said, by a bribe, went
over to the other side. Mutiny and desertion broke out in the be-
smging army; and Urquiza was obliged to retire to the province of
Entre Rios, of which he was governor. Then ensued a separation
between the contending parties. Buenos Ayres declared itself a
sovereign state; while the other provinces fixed their capital at
Parana, and appointed Urquiza president of the republic for six
years. In this divided condition La Plata has since remained;
and although several attempts have been made to negotiate a re¬
union, none has proved successful. Two treaties were concluded
in December 1854 and January 1855, by which the two states were
to allow free commerce between their territories, to use one na¬
tional flag, and to defend each other against foreign aggression.
Fresh misunderstandings and aggressions however arose; and these
treaties were declared null March 18, 1856. But the country
has purchased, at the expense of this division, a respite from the
long series of revolutions and tyranny, civil and foreign wars,
which have agitated it from the period of its independence to that
of its dismemberment. The thirteen provinces endeavoured to
lessen the preponderance of Buenos Ayres by opening up the Pa¬
rana and Paraguay to commerce, and by imposing extra duties on
merchandise coming by Buenos Ayres. At the same time, they are
turning their attention to the internal improvement of the country,
by colonizing its vast and rich though almost unpeopled terri-
tories, by constructing railways to connect its various parts, and
launching steamers on its magnificent rivers. The experience of
the last half century seems at last to have taught the people and
their leaders how ruinous it is to fight about constitutions and go¬
vernments, and to neglect or wantonly to destroy the undisputed
gifts which nature has so lavishly bestowed. A few years of peace
would probably do much to develop the resources of the country,
and create a common interest among the provinces, which would
unite them more firmly together than laws or treaties ever could.
781
La Plata.
782
P L A
Plata PLATA, Rio de la, a large estuary of South America,
Rio de la. formed by the confluence of the Rivers Parana and Uru-
„uay. It is about 185 miles in length; and its breadth gta-
dually increases from its head towards the sea. At Rue-
nos Ayres, about 30 miles below the confluence of the two
great rivers, it is 29 miles across; at Monte Video, 70 miles
farther down, it has expanded to 53 miles ; and at its mouth,
between Cape San Antonio and Punta de la Ballena, its
breadth is about 130 miles. This vast sheet of water is by
no means deep: the average depth at the mouth is 10
fathoms ; farther up it becomes gradually shallower ; and
between Monte Video and Buenos Ayres the average depth
is only 3 fathoms. The estuary is also much impeded with
sand-banks; and the currents are very strong and variable,
on account of the immense body of water brought down
by the rivers, which drain an area estimated at 1,200,000
square miles; being thus inferior in this respect tlie
Amazon and Mississippi only. The tides in the La 1 lata
are hardly perceptible ; but this is owing not to any real de¬
ficiency in their force, but to their being confused, and, as it
were, concealed by the other currents. Violent stoi ms fie-
quently agitate the La Plata, chiefly raised by the gales
called pamperos, which drive the water in a great volume in
one direction. From these causes, the navigation is here
so difficult that the estuary has been called El Inferno de
los Marineros (Sailors’ Hell). 1 he water of the rivers is
very long in mingling with that of the ocean; it floats
muddy and dark on the surface in an easterly direction;
and at the distance of 600 miles from the land it has a velo¬
city of 1 mile an hour, and spreads over a breadth of 800
miles. Of the two great rivers that form the Rio de la
Plata, the largest is the Parana, which rises in Brazil not
more than 100 miles N.W. of Rio de Janeiro. The upper
streams of this river have various names ; but at the con¬
fluence of the Rio Grande, the longest of them, with the
Parnahiba, the combined river takes the name of Parana,
which it retains till it merges itself in the Rio de la Plata.
The Parana flows southwards, receiving several large af¬
fluents, and separates Paraguay from Brazil and La Plata.
It then turns to the west, and flows in that direction for
50 miles, still forming the boundary between Paraguay and
La Plata. On receiving the Paraguay from the north at
Corrientes, it again turns south, and flows through La Plata
till it falls into the Rio de la Plata by several branches,
forming the island of Martin Garcia and others. The
Martin Garcia channel, by which the Parana is entered,
is difficult of navigation, and does not admit vessels draw¬
ing more than 14 feet of water. The total length of the
Parana is 2040 miles,—namely, 500 from the source of the
Rio Grande to its confluence with the Parnahiba, 1000 from
that point to the union of the Paraguay and Parana, and
540 thence to the Rio de la Plata. It is navigable to Cor¬
rientes for ships drawing 7-|- feet, and for smaller vessels to
Candelaria, 150 miles farther, where rapids occur. The
principal affluent of the Parana is the Paraguay, which ex¬
ceeds, in the volume of its water and in the length and
directness of its course, the river that retains the name. It
issues from several lakes in the Sierra Diamante in Brazil,
and flows southwards, separating La Plata from Brazil and
Paraguay. Its principal tributaries are the Pilcomayo and
Vermejo, both from the west. Its whole length from its
source to Corrientes is about 1890 miles ; and it is navigable
to Assumption, 200 miles above Corrientes, for vessels
drawing 7^ feet. Above this point it is believed to be
navigable for smaller vessels for 800 miles, and the Vermejo
for 500. The Parana also receives from the west the Salado,
which is entirely within the provinces of La Plata, rising in
theN.W., flowing S.E., and joining the main stream at Santa
re. Like all rivers from within the tropics, the Parana has
^ :ovv anc^ a high season, depending on the periodical rains.
I he former lasts during the winter and spring of the South-
P L A
ern Hemisphere, from June to December, and the latter piatsea.
during the summer and autumn. The difference in the
height of the river in these seasons varies at different parts,
beim’- about 3 feet where it is wide, 8 feet where narrow,
and on an average over the whole about 4 feet. The
Uruguay rises in Brazil in the Sierra de Santa Catharina,
and flows first west and then south, separating Brazil and
Uruguay from La Plata, and falling into the Rio de la Plata,
where its blue waters preserve their clearness for miles be¬
fore they are lost in the muddy current of the Parana. Its
whole length is more than 800 miles, and it is navigable
for ships drawing 5 or 6 feet for 250 miles. The estuary
of La Plata is fitted by nature to be the outlet of a most
extensive river trade, though as yet its advantages have
been turned to very little account. Goods from foreign
countries destined for the interior are generally unshipped
at Buenos Ayres, and put on board smaller river craft.
But as, until lately, all the river trade was performed by
sailing vessels, the means of communication were very im¬
perfect ; for no ships could ascend the rivers unless they
had not only a wind up the stream, itself not a very fre¬
quent occurrence, but one sufficient to impel them against
the current running from 2 to 4 miles an hour. At the
same time, large steamers could not ascend on account of
the shallows. But since the opening of the rivers in 1852
steamers have been introduced, after the model of the
Mississippi boats, which will much accelerate and facilitate
the conveyance of goods.
PLATTS A, or Plat^e^e, an ancient city of Boeotia, stood
on the southern bank of the Asopus, under the northern
declivity of Mount Cithaeron. Its early history is charac¬
terized by a determined resistance to the domineering power
of Thebes, and a steady alliance with Athens. Its later
annals are rendered remarkable by two very important
events. The one is the famous battle of Plataea, which
took place in 479 B.C., between the Persians and con¬
federate Greeks. In that year the Grecian troops under
Pausanias took up their position near the walls of the city,
on a level meadow between two branches of the river
CEroe. Up from the banks of the Asopus, in pursuit of
them, came the invaders, led on by Mardonius. A scattered
fight ensued. The Greeks drove their enemies back,
stormed their camp, and routed them over the country, till
only a few were left to carry the news of the disaster to the
East. In the full flush of success, the confederates returned
to honour the scene of the battle. Assembled round a
sacrifice in the market-place, they took an oath to defend
and maintain for ever the independence of the town. Out
of their spoils they contributed eighty talents for the erec¬
tion of a temple to Minerva in the place. The privilege
was also conferred by them upon the citizens of paying re¬
ligious honours every year at the graves of the illustrious
slain, and of celebrating, at the end of every five years, the
feast of the Eleutheria, in commemoration of the deliver¬
ance of Greece. Equally notable with this victory was
another event,—the siege of Plataea by the Peloponnesians
under Archidamus in 429 B.c. In anticipation of the ap¬
proach of the enemy, the children, the old men, and the
mass of the women, had been sent away and consigned to
the protection of Athens. There were only left 400 citi¬
zens and 80 Athenian allies to hold the town, and 110
women to take charge of the household affairs. To wrest
the city from this devoted band, the invaders set themselves
with sanguine determination. At first they tried to storm
the place. A mound was thrown up, the battering-ram
was plied, and a pile of brushwood was set on fire close to
the wall. After all these attempts had been foiled by the
ceaseless activity of those within, they turned the assault
into a blockade, and, casting up two lines of circumvallation,
sat down in the shelter of the intermediate space. The
besieged were now doomed to wait, and to continue to wait
P L A
Platform ,n vain, for relief. It is true that in the second year of the
|| siege 212 of their number, taking advantage of a tem-
^ Plato, pestuous winter night, climbed lightly over the enemy’s
^ v ^ ^ fortifications, amid the darkness and turmoil of the storm,
and escaped in safety to Athens. But the rest remained
shut in from all hope, until, in the summer of 427 B.C., they
were compelled, haggard and weak with famine, to give
themselves up to the mercy of their relentless foes. The
men, after a mock trial, were butchered one by one in cold
blood; the women were sold as slaves; the houses were
razed to the ground; and two temples to Juno, the one
surrounded with an inn, and the other newly erected, were
all that was left to mark the site of the city, until its
restoration by the Lacedaemonians in 387 b.c. After this
date there is nothing very important in the annals of
Plataea, except its second destruction by its inveterate
enemy 1 hebes in 372 b.c., and its second restoration by
Philip in 338 B.c. Its ruins are still seen near the small
village of Kokhla. (For a detailed account of the cele¬
brated siege of Plataea, see Thucydides.)
PLATFORM, a plane surface, lying level, of any ma¬
terials, for the reception of the foundations of a building, or
P L A 783
for the piers of a bridge. The term is likewise applied to Platina
a level scaffold raised above the ground for a temporary II
purpose. 1 : Plato.
PLATINA, or Platinum (Spanish plata, silver), is a
metal of a white colour, exceedingly ductile, malleable, and
difficult of fusion. It is the heaviest substance with which
we are acquainted, its specific gravity being about 2To.
It is subject to no change from air or moisture, is not at¬
tacked by any pure acid, is dissolved by the influence of
chlorine and mtro-muriatic acid, and is subject to oxida¬
tion by pure potassa and lithia. It is found only in the
Ural Mountains and in South America, where it is usually
piocured in small lustrous grains combined with palladium,
rhodium, &c., and is for the most part commingled with
sand. The portions of it which are found seldom exceed
a small pea in size, but occasionally it has been found in
lumps varying in size from a hazel nut to a pigeon’s ego-.
(See Chemistry ; also Mines and Mining.)
PLATING is the art of covering the baser metals with
silver or gold, either for use or ornament. Of late, manu¬
facturers have availed themselves of electro-chemical de¬
composition for the purpose.
P L A T 0.
The birth of Plato is nearly coincident with that great
epoch of Grecian history, the commencement of the Pe¬
loponnesian war. In the first year of that war, the Athe¬
nians, having ejected the unhappy people of TEgina, ap¬
portioned the island amongst colonists from themselves.1
Amongst these Athenian occupants were Aristo, and Pe-
rictione. or Potona, as she is also called, the father and
motner of Plato. Their residence, however, in the island
was not permanent nor even long, as the intrusive colony
was in its turn ejected by the Lacedaemonians, on which
occasion his parents returned to Athens.2 It was during
this interval, and in the year 429 b. c., that the philosopher
was born.3
From these circumstances, it has been commonly sup¬
posed that Plato was born in Pgina. They are not, how¬
ever, sufficient to establish such a conclusion. For a colo¬
nization of the kind here described did not necessarily
imply residence on the part of those persons to whom the
lands were allotted.4 Nor is the fact of the recovery of the
island by the Lacedaemonians from the hands of the Athe¬
nians, mentioned by the contemporary historian. iEgina
was still in the occupation of the Athenians in the fifth
year of the Peloponnesian war ;5 and in the eighth year
of the war we find that the poor exiles, who had mean¬
while obtained a refuge at Thyrea, were there cruelly ex¬
terminated by the Athenians.6 On the whole, it seems
more probable, from the constant designation of Plato as
“ the Athenian,” without any other addition, though this
alone, it must be allowed, is not decisive of the fact, that
Athens itself may claim the honour of having been his
birthplace.
It is remarkable that his proper name was not that
which his fame has immortalized, but Aristocles, after
his paternal grandfather.7 The name of Plato is said to
have been given to him by the person who w-as his master
in the exercises of the gymnasium, as characteristic of his
athletic frame in his youth.8 In this way, being familiarly
applied to him, it gradually prevailed, to the entire disuse
of his family name.
The philosopher was connected by descent with the
ancient worthies of Athens; on his mother’s side with
Solon, and on his father’s with the patriot king Codrus.9
And thus, according to the notions of nobility prevalent
amongst the Greeks,10 he could trace up the honours of
his parentage to a divine founder, in the person of the god
Neptune.
A circumstance is related of his infancy, which, though
obviously fabulous, cannot properly be omitted in his bio¬
graphy, as a pleasing and appropriate tribute of the ima¬
ginative genius of the Greeks to their poet-philosopher.
Whilst he was sleeping when a babe, on Mount Hymet-
tus, in a bower of myrtles, during the performance of a
sacrifice by his parents to the muses and nymphs, bees,
it is said, lighted on him and dropped honey on his lips,
thus giving an evident augury of that peculiar sweetness of
style by w-hich his eloquence would be distinguished.11
For the same reason, a similar fancy, which has thrown
a poetical ornament over the account of his first devotion
to philosophy, must not be passed over in silence. Socra¬
tes, it is related, was apprized beforehand, in a dream, of
the first visit of the gifted pupil, who was destined to carry
philosophy forth on the wings of his genius to its boldest
flights. Socrates was telling his dream to some persons
around him, how he seemed to see a young swan coming
from an altar in the grove of Academus, and first nestling
in his bosom, then soaring up on high, and singing sweetly
as it rose in the air, when Aristo presented himself, leading
his son Plato, whom he committed to the instruction of the
Thucyd. iii. 72.
Ibid. iv. 56, 57.
* Thucyd. ii. 27. 3 Diog. Laert. in Vit. Plat.
IAog. Laert. in trtt. Plat. 4 q'Jmcyd. iii. 50.
8 frisiocles7as a^so a Spartan name, being the name of the brother of the king Pleistoanax. Thucyd. v. 17.
As denved from T\a.Tvs, broad. Laertius gives this explanation, which Seneca also adopts (Epist. Iviii. 27), but says others inter-
pretem. the name as denoting a broad forehead; others, as characteristic of his style of eloquence.
His family also is shewn to have been of rank, from its connection with some of “ the Thirty,” called “ the Thirty Tyrants ”
established at Athens by the Lacedaunonians. See Plat. Ep. vii.
*o See Herodot. Euterp. 143. >« Cicero, De Divin. i. 36.
784
Plato.
PLATO.
Gage. Socrates, it is added, struck W
sage. Socrates, it is aaueu, t,uu^ — — - ,
mediately recognized the fulfilment of ns , ^,a ’ ente(j
corned Plato as the young swan from the altar, rep
t0 TheaccountfofMs early education, to which we should
naturally have looked with great interest, are extreme y
meagre. We only know by general notices that he pas
ed through the usual course of education adopted amongs
the higher classes of the Greeks. That education was di¬
rected to the cultivation at once of the powers of the mind
and of the body, under the two great ^visions of hterat
and gymnastics. The youth was delivered to the charje ol
the grammarian, the teacher of music, and the tramer.
From the grammarian he learned the art of reading,
writing his own language, and a knowledge of its authors,
especially its poets; from the teacher of music, skill in pe
forming on the lyre and the flute, together with the prin¬
ciples of the science of music; from the trainer he acquirexl
strength and expertness in the several exercises of wrest¬
ling, and boxing, and running, by which it was intended
not only to mature the powers of the body, but to qua y
the youth for attaining eminence at the Publ|c S^es-
These were the schoolmasters of the accomplished Athe¬
nian, and with these he was occupied until he had reached
about his twentieth year. Accordingly, the names have
been transmitted to us of those who discharged these offices
for Plato; of Dionysius, as the grammarian under whom
he learned the elements of that command over his own
language, and its literary resources, which his matured eo-
quence so richly displayed ; of Draco of Athens, and Me-
tellus of Agrigentum, as his masters in music; ana o
Aristo the Argive, as his master in gymnastics. It is added
that he also studied painting; but the name has not been
given of any individual who acted as his preceptor m the
In evidence of his great proficiency in these early stu¬
dies, it has been stated, that he gave specimens of his ge¬
nius in every department of poetical composition; that in
epic poetry he laboured after the highest excellence, and
only abandoned the attempt on comparing his efforts with
the poems of Homer, and despairing of reaching so high a
standard; that in dramatic poetry, he had prepared a te¬
tralogy, the four plays usually required of an author in order
to competing for the prize at the festival of Bacchus, but
changed his purpose only the day before the exhibition, in
consequence of impressions received from Socrates. And
even in gymnastics excellence has been claimed for him;
since it has been asserted that he actually entered the lists
at the Isthmian games.
Whatever credit we may give to these particulars, there
can be no doubt, that so inquisitive a mind as that of Plato,
and so resolute a spirit in the prosecution of its undertak¬
ings, received the full benefit of this preliminary culture;
and that he was thus amply prepared for entering on the se¬
verer discipline of those pursuits which engaged him when
he became a hearer of Socrates.
This preliminary education, in fact, was very imperfect
as a discipline of the mind. It gave the youth a forward¬
ness and fluency of knowledge, so that he was fain to fancy
himself, when he had scarcely attained manhood, equal to
undertake affairs of state, and to serve the highest offices
of the government. But it did not form his mind or cha¬
racter. He had yet to learn the nature pf man ; to study
the principles of ethics and politics. This task of instruc¬
tion devolved on the sophist or the philosopher (as the same
person was at first indifferently called), into whose hands
the Greek youth was now delivered.
Plato, accordingly, at the age of twenty years, began to
be a regular attendant on the lessons of Socrates. The Plato,
reputation of Socrates as a teacher in this higher walk of^
education, now eclipsed that of all other professors of phi¬
losophy. He had at once exposed the incompetence of
the sophists who preceded him, and superseded them in
their office. Plato would be conducted to him by his fa¬
ther as the account states he was, very much in the way
which is depicted under caricature by the comic poet, as
to the most distinguished master of the day, to be qualified
for taking on him those public duties to which every citi¬
zen of Athens might be called; to enable hirn to distin¬
guish himself in counsel and argument, and obtain influence
and importance in society. From the numbers that resort¬
ed to Socrates, as well as to the sophists before him, it is
plain that, to obtain instruction in philosophy for its own
sake, or to become philosophers themselves, was not the
object with which he was sought by the generality. Here
and there the spark fell on a kindred genius, and lighted
up a flame of philosophy in the breast of a disciple. Thus
from the school of Socrates came the founders of several
other schools; and, on the whole, a greater impulse was
o-iven by his teaching to the study of philosophy than had
ever been felt before in Greece. Still, as Socrates himself
did not profess to teach his hearers wisdom, so neither did
they in general come to him as learners of wisdom, or as
actuated by the pure love of wisdom, but to acquire prac¬
tical information which their previous studies had not given
them. We may imagine such a disciple as Plato first pre¬
senting himself amongst the multitude of hearers ; how he
would be struck by the first observation of the extraor¬
dinary manner of Socrates, especially at finding the very
person to whom he came to be taught professing that “ he
knew nothing;” and that he was only wiser than other
men on this account, that, whilst others knew not and pre¬
sumed they knew, he neither knew nor presumed that he
knew. The interest of such a mind as Plato’s could not
but be powerfully called forth by so strange an avowal on
the part of a man whom he had been led to look up to as
the wisest of men. To him it must naturally have prompt¬
ed the questions, what philosophy might be ; what the na¬
ture and condition of man; what the criteria of truth and
falsehood; and thus have firmly laid hold of those tendencies
to speculation which we see fully developed in the mature
fruits of his genius. Again and again he is present at the
searching investigations carried on in the discussions of
which Socrates is the leader; soon he is himself interro¬
gated by Socrates; and we cannot doubt that he is thence¬
forward irrevocably become, not the disciple of Socrates
only, but the disciple and votary of philosophy.
That Plato was thus won over to philosophy from an
early period of his life, is evident from the statement of
Aristotle respecting him, that “ from his youth he had
been conversant with Cratylus, and the opinions of Hera¬
clitus,”2 and from the indications in two at least of his
dialogues (and these supposed to be the earliest in the
date of their composition, as written indeed during the life¬
time of Socrates), the Phcedrus and the Lysis, of his early
acquaintance with Pythagorean notions.
There seems, too, but little room to doubt that he ha,d
begun at the same time to study the doctrines of the Ionic
school under Hermogenes, as well as those of Parmenides
and Zeno. For what he puts into the mouth of Socrates
in the Phcedo? respecting Anaxagoras, is probably (as So¬
crates himself was known to have had a strong aversion to
physical science) the expression of his own disappointment
and dissatisfaction at the outset of his studies, in the con¬
clusions of the school, of which Anaxagoras was then the
chief authority. Of Parmenides, again, he more than once
‘ Aristoph. Nubes.
8 Aristot. Metaph. i. 3.
Phced. pp. 220-225, ed. Bip.
Plato.
P L A
, fPeaks ia terms of enthusiasm, as of a name with which he
t a
other
had very early associations of reverence;1 here as in the T-i itjnt°5 anc! 1)len(lin? it with his own
instance of Anaxagoras, we are disposed to think, depict- mass, anT^vri^i^L^^!™!^ mell°WS the whole
. , agoras, we are disposed to think, depict- mass, and mves P ‘ r
ing,m the person of Socrates, a portion of the history of his The dealh of Socr^ef nv^l ,• r • ,
own mmd. : cam or Socrates—over which how Ins disciples
Judging indeed from the tenor of his writings, we should moments of tli^V In'1 ,tIlat affecting account of the last
conclude that his curiosity was excited, from a very early by the genius of Platf the3 m"8, nlem0ry
period, to explore the whole field of philosophy; and that’, rally excited alarms for t fon 1 B"f ,
so far from resting on what he learned from Sncnm* him nm k0 . s t01 tlitir own safety amongst those who
self) he applied the lessons of Socrat^to^the ^xtending'aml
perfecting those researches which he was carrying on at the proceeded unTeXd by am P'n°f ",lolera"“ lla‘
same tune, by means of books, ororal instruction from others.* for truth hat no wisdom nr llt?S llun,lamt5’ °!' reSard
Socrates was to him the interpreter and commpntntnr nml m f i i ? "lstlonh 01 gentleness, or benevolence ot
critic, of the various phil„s@^rS Tas ^ X V LnrXi'hS'" tf11'5' “f
Socrates in his Dialogues. SocrateXe/e sefdoS or neyer ^ nhXi Z?h cXd'• ‘T the
appears as a didactic expounder of truth He is nresented n c - ’ t at coulci lnstigate the actor on
as the critic of opinions and doctrines and systems, and the the prompter'of thfmisdnef wore0,|k 0t'defrufction> "’llilst
judge to whom evervthing is to be submitted for annrnvnl ti i rP i tlle misclnet the mask of concern for
or rejection, or modification, as the case may be. P ' ’ causrof^rSourtruth 0gped °f uPholding the
Indeed, so exuberant and energetic a mind could not c r g Persecution has ever been the
have been satisfied with beino- simply a learner in anv fb esse”tia* features are vices of the human heart,
school. It would eagerly seek t^mUs of comoa^ d any particular system of religion. We find it, ac’
system with system, and of examining into points of agreed wnrld^ r’ l"1 ,sev^ralurecorded instances in the heathen
mentor disagreement in the theories proposed. The doubts of antiV^ln-S^^ USe !-ery nCAar y as .in .t]le dark times
raised by Socrates, the hints thrown out by him the con b , C0n7tl0n' Atliens ^self had already
elusions to which he pointed, but which he ^yet left uncon- case of A examPles ot ,ts operation. In particular, the
eluded, would to such a mind seem as so manv points nf ! f A axaS01as liad been a striking illustration. When
departure for its own excursions They nalura^ su^ ZiZ" * ^ ^ ^ °f PericIes could
gest that much more must be done tha/ merely to take save AnaxaSoias tl0ni a prison, and expulsion from Athens,
up what has been said by Socrates! in oX to work out 1 ZZ ^ ^ physIC,al fPeculations,-the very philo-
or even rightly to conceive, what had fallen from his lips’ k ler wllose system of physics raised an insuperable
For the conversations of Socrates were not framed to con' P in?r against atheism, by demonstrating the supremacy
vey positive instruction, so much as toTset th^mhid^of^the teHnn ^ Z t0° eyid?nt that there "as a ^vs-
hearer a-thinking, and to provoke further inquiry In the firi fn Wf°1rkln? '? the h?art ot soc,ety> kke secret,
living pictures of them which Plato has drawn they leave ™I ■ the deptbS, ot the eaijth> capable of awing and
off just at the point where we expect the teacherwould it yZing €'ery °ther povver that miSht rise UP against
:in:i "rs ~ rin 4
lights and shadows of the scenes in which the great miLr myste^ hyX'S t the F0,“n““on of the Eleusinian
occupies the foreground. Well therefore mav wp mn hl l 3 ir^the mock ^presentation of them in private
ceive that, at the time when he enioved the guidance and in^w' • Z- SfCret ln/0rmat'?n on which those proceed-
control, and encouragement of Socrates he^was' lavimr a n/ 1 eietcamed °n; tpc indifference shewn at the period
,fOT,th« «« tichly-orna- public ”,1^1^
mented fabric of philosophy which the existing monuments
of his genius exhibit.
1 rom Socrates himself this demand of the inquisitive
heaiei could evidently not be supplied. Socrates was de¬
ficient in erudition properly so called. He had studied
men rather than books. His wisdom consisted of deep
and extensive observation accurately generalized, drawn
from passing things, and capable accordingly of ready ap¬
plication to the same course of things; forcibly convincin'1-
his hearers by the point and propriety with which it met
each occasion, and giving experimental proof of its sound¬
ness and truth. Erudition, accordingly, was to be sought
elsewhere; and Plato therefore supplied this need from
stition; the effect which the charge of being implicated
in these outrages had in checking the career of Alcibiades
at the moment of his triumph over his political opponents;
all shewed, that it was a vain hope to resist the secret ar¬
biters of public opinion on questions of religion. Then came
the fearful consummation of this vengeance in the death
of Socrates by the poisoned cup; leaving no doubt in the
minds of any, that they who would follow his example in
boldly and honestly inquiring into current opinions, and de¬
claring their convictions of the truth on matters affecting
the conduct of men, must either prepare themselves for
exile (which alone was a great punishment in the ancient
world),4 or drink the hemlock.
Xo™’ 111 f’!TT '•‘T*™’. ”'™ -'-'WI, i .W. n...
.1 ......... 7|,(ThcaiUt. pp. 137, 13& Parmenid p "•'«? " ^ apk‘> .... ... if...
h“5 ‘1SO h*** -P—tTd““the SeforT^ 3‘pS 'S £?wTin‘PtS Xtf,
4 I1': Performance of religious rites in private houses is forbidden in Plato’s Dialogue on Laws x n 117 ’ th’ hlld’
Cicero says of exile, endeavouring to reconcile the feelings to it, “jam vero exilium si rernm ■ • •
quaenmus, quantum demum a perpetua peregrinatione dilfert.” (Tittcul. Qu st v ’ 81 reium Iiaturam, non ignomimam nominii
785
37.)
0 o
786
Plato.
P L A
Socrates himself had the courage to take the latter part
of the alternative. To him it was the natural termination
of that energetic course which he had from the first adopted.
He would have unsaid all his teaching ; he would have prac¬
tically recanted the strong language in which he had, throug
all his life, been discoursing of the worthlessness of the body
and of the present life, and of the immortality and perfection
of the soul. His philosophy, and the sense of the dignity ol
his character and position, kept him immured in his prison,
and riveted the chains on his limbs, far more than the con¬
demnation of his judges or the strength of the iron with which
he was bound. For, as he says of himself, m the words m
which Plato has expressed his sentiments, “ these sinews and
bones would long ago have been either about Megara or the
Boeotians, had I not thought it more just and more honour¬
able, instead of flight, to submit to the judgment ol the state.
But this was not the case with the hearers ol bocrates.
They were not, like him, placed in a commanding post, from
which they could not retreat without being stigmatized as de¬
serters of their profession, and betrayers of the truth, f hey
might with honour and propriety consult for their safety.
Whilst, therefore, as is probable, the bulk of those who had at¬
tended on the teaching pf Socrates simply withdrew from pub¬
lic notice, and sought their homes at Athens or elsewhere, the
principal disciples of the school—those who were most known
as followers and admirers of Socrates—left Athens, and
sought an asylum for themselves and for philosophy at Megara.
Amongst those whom Socrates drew around him were
several individuals of mature age, already trained in some
sect of philosophy, and eminent in their own walk of science,
\-et desirous of availing themselves of the far-famed wisdom
of the sage of Athens. Of this class was Euclid of Megara,
from whom the Megaric school derives its existence and
celebrity.2 As a disciple, he belonged to the Eleatic school,
and, trained by Zeno, the great master of dialectic before
him, had made that science his especial study. He had
shown a singular zeal in attending on the teaching of So¬
crates ; for he continued to resort to him even after the
passing of the Athenian decree by which Megaiians were
excluded, under the penalty of death, from the harbours in
the Athenian empire, and from the agora of Athens itself.
For this purpose, he would set out from his home at night¬
fall, a journey of more than twenty miles,—such was tlm
distance from Megara to Athens,—assuming the disguise of
female attire that he might enter the city unnoticed.3 His
conduct on the occasion of the dispersion of the school of
Socrates corresponded with this zeal. He received the
members of the school with open arms, and gave them a
home with him at Megara. There, for a time at least,
■they gathered themselves, in shelter from the storm which
had driven them from Athens. But the school, in fact,
was broken up. It had subsisted and been held together
by the personal influence of Socrates himself, and with
him its principle of vitality, as a body, was gone. He had
not laboured to establish a sect or a theory; and he left,
therefore, no particular symbol of union around which a
party might be formed. He was himself the principle and
bond of union to his disciples; bringing together around
him the professors and disciples of every different sect.
There was yet to arise out of his society one who, richly
imbued with his teaching and method, should rekindle the
extinct school with his own spirit, and bid it live again in
its genuine offspring; and that individual was Plato. But
the times were not yet ripe for this.
T O.
In the meantime, Plato was destined to spend several
years in journeying from place to place, at a distance fiom
the past and the future scene of his philosophical labours.
These were doubtless years of great importance to him,
for the perfect formation of the peculiar character of his
philosophy. In the course of them, we find him visiting
Megara, Cyrene, the Greek settlements on the coasts of
Italy, Sicily, Egypt, “ exploring (as Cicero says of him in
oratorical language) the remotest lands,’1 * * 4 after the manner
of Solon and Pythagoras, and other wise men before him,
who had enlarged their minds by contemplations pursued
in foreign travel. Thus did he singularly combine in his
studies the more ancient with the Socratic mode of philoso¬
phizing. The method of Socrates was exclusively domestic.^
He studied mankind within a small compass (the circle of
Athens itself), only with amore accuiate and searching e^e
than any one had ever done before him; and therefore
drew sound general conclusions from his observations
within that range of view. He evidently judged it better
thus to restrict the attention, and require men to investigate
closely what lay before them, than to encourage them to
indulge the prevailing habit ol more diflusive and vague
observation. This is told us in other words by Plato him¬
self; where he introduces Socrates as a stranger even to
the beautiful scenery in the immediate neighbourhood of
Athens, and as one who appeared never to have been out
of the walls of the city ; and as owning that, in his fondness
for moral study, he was content to learn ot the men in the
city, who could teach him what the fields and the trees
could not.5 But this method, good as a foundation, and
necessary as a corrective ot desultory and superficial habits
of thought and study, was not sufficient Ibi the lequiie-
ments of Plato’s mind. He observes in one of his works,
that there is much to be gained from contemplation rightly
directed in foreign travel both by land and sea; that we
are not only to look to our own country for examples, but
seek in the world at large for specimens of the highest
order of men, who, though rare, might from time to time
be found under every form of government; and that nOt
perfect civilization can be attained without this means ot
observation and improvement.6 He describe*, in fact, the
course which he had himself pursued, and the benefit which
he had found resulting from it.
Having sojourned for a time at Megara, together with
the other disciples of Socrates, and probably there, with
the assistance of Euclid, increased his acquaintance with
the writings of Parmenides and Zeno, as well as studied
more intimately the dialectic of their school, he appears to
have proceeded to Cyrene. Cyrene was the home, not
only of Aristippus, to whose school it afterwards gave it*
name, but of the venerable Theodorus, the most eminent
geometrician of his day. Theodorus had been occasionally^
a resident at Athens, and an attendant on the teaching, of
Socrates, whilst he was himself resorted to by the Athenian
youth for instruction in the science of geometry.7 Plato no
doubt had been amongst those who had thus availed them¬
selves of the presence of Theodorus at Athens. His pie-
dilection for mathematical studies is conspicuous tluough-
out his writings. His skill in geometry, in particulai,
requires no other evidence than the fact of his ready solu¬
tion, in that state of the science, ot the problem of the
Delphic Oracle, which required the doubling ot the cubic
altar at Delos.8 He has described Theodorus as present
at Athens at the time when the prosecution was instituted
Plato.
1 See Phcedo, p. 224 ; also Crito, throughout. 2 Euclid the mathematician flourished about a century after him.
3 Thucyd. i. 139 ; Aul. Gell. Met. Att. vi. 10. ...
4 Ultimas terras lustrasse Pythagoram, Democritum, Platonem, accepimus : ubi enim quid esset quod disci posset, eo veniendum judi-
caverunt. (Tusc. Qu. iv. 19.) 5 Phcedr., p. 287 ; Crito, p. 122. 6 Be Legib. xii., p. 196, 197.
7 Plat. Theatet., p. 51, 52; Xenoph. Mem. iv. 2, 10.
8 Plutarch. Be Socrat. Genio, p. 288, tom. 8, Reiske. The inscription said to have been over the portal of the Academia, “ Let no one
enter who is not a geometrician,” seems to belong rather to Pythagoras, or perhaps was imitated from the Pythagoreans.
P L A T O.
a °. agam8t Socrates.1 He now went to Cyrene, probably with
the view of following up that course of geometrical study
which had been so abruptly terminated; whilst he regain¬
ed also the society of a friend for whom he evidently felt
respect and admiration.2
The course of his travels conducted him to the Greek
settlements on the coast of Italy and Sicily, where the
colleges of the Pythagoreans were established. It may
readily be. imagined with what eager curiosity Plato un¬
dertook this voyage, what delight he promised himself in
seeing the place itself where Pythagoras had taught, and
in personal conference with the living successors of the
mystic sage, and in obtaining a greater insight into the
doctrines of a school which had such charms for him. He
had much to observe also in the peculiar discipline by
which the Pythagoreans were formed into a distinct fra¬
ternity amongst themselves. Greece Proper had nothing
to exhibit like this. For though the different sects of phi¬
losophy were distinguished there by the names of founders
and places, they were not held together by any rules of
discipline. But the Pythagoreans at Tarentum, Crotona,
and elsewhere in Magna Grsecia, had incorporated them¬
selves into synedria, or colleges; each individual giving
his property in common, and regarding the bond of con¬
nection with his brethren of the sect as closer than the ties
of kindred.3 Associations of this kind must have appeared,
at the first, as anomalies even to the philosophical Athenian,
accustomed as he was to regard the free intercourse of so¬
cial life as indispensable to his very existence.
It has been said that Plato was admitted to the secret
discipline of the Pythagoreans. Probably he was only re¬
ceived by them with great cordiality, and had access to
writings and information respecting their doctrines, which
might have been denied to one, who came less recom¬
mended to them by the sincere enthusiasm of philosophy,
and approximation to their views. There are no traces
ceitainly in his writings, or elsewhere, of his having been
a professed Pythagorean ; although he undoubtedly was
greatly captivated by the Pythagorean doctrines, and has
introduced them largely into his own speculations.
Aichytas, the greatest name of the Pythagorean school
after that of Pythagoras himself, was then flourishing at
Taientum. It must have been an interesting occasion when
there were assembled together at Tarentum, as Cicero
relates,4 Pontius the Samnite, the father of that Pontius
who defeated the Roman consul at the Fauces Caudina:;
Aichytas the Pythagorean, discoursing against pleasure; and
Plato the Athenian traveller. I he very place where they
a point of contact between the old empires of the
world, and the rising power destined to break them in
pieces, in itself adds to the interest. Then the charac¬
ters of the two philosophers who thus met, further arrest
our attention :—Archytas, the representative of the old tra¬
ditional y theological systems now moulded into a scheme
of philosophy and a discipline of life ; and Plato, the accom¬
plished artist, who was soon to take up the scheme of phi¬
losophy where the Pythagoreans left it, and consecrate it
by the inspirations of his own genius to an eternal empire
on the throne of literature :—Archytas, nurtured in the re¬
serve and mysticism of the Pythagorean discipline ; Plato,
formed to busy and importunate discussion by the ever-col-
loquial Socrates,—two philosophers so contrasted with each
other in many respects, and yet so concordant in their love
of ancient wisdom and indefatigable research after truth.
from the Pythagoreans Plato proceeded to Egypt to
converse with the priests of that ancient land, from which
Gieece had derived her original civilization and science.
Since the settlement of the Greek colony in Egypt by
Psammetichus/’ there had existed a regular channel of in¬
tercom se between Greece and Egypt, and accurate means
of information to the Greeks respecting Egypt. The his-
toiy of Herodotus must in itself have awakened the curio-
sityr of those who had any taste for such inquiries, to know
still more of a people from whom Greece had already
learned so much, and from whom evidently so much was
to be learned; and must have stimulated them to avail
themselves of the existing facilities of gratifying that taste.
To Plato, indeed, if, according to Herodotus, the Greeks
derived the notion of the immortality of the soul from the
Egyptians, who were the first, he thinks, to teach it in con¬
nection with that of the transmigration of souls,6 a visit to
EgyP1 must have been most attractive. Herodotus has
given a most instructive and interesting view of the im¬
pression which such a visit produced on his mind. What
an animated picture must the still more philosophical
mind of Plato have presented, of the result of his con¬
versation with the priests of Egypt. Though the ac¬
count of his having had the mysterious wisdom of the
inscriptions on the Hermetic Columns unfolded to him by
the priests, and of his being instructed in magic,7 on this
occasion, seems without sufficient authority, there are evi¬
dent traces of information collected in Egypt, throuffii-
out his writings, and, so far, it cannot be doubted that
this visit was not without its influence on the character
of his philosophy.
Indeed it has been further asserted, that, whilst in Egypt,
he had access to an existing Greek version of the Old Tes¬
tament, and that to this circumstance we must attribute
that purer and more elevated theology which his works ex¬
hibit, in comparison with those of other heathen philoso¬
phers. A strange oversight in chronology has also attri¬
buted to him a personal intercourse with the prophet Jere¬
miah.8 These statements are obviously mere suppositions,
by which Christians, over-zealous for Plato’s philosophy,
vindicated their admiration of it, whilst they asserted also
the originality and supremacy of Scripture truth. At the
same time, it is indisputable that Judaism diffused much
religious and moral truth beyond its own pale; and that
not only Plato, but the Egyptian priests, his instructors,
unconsciously derived much from the inspired sources, in
collecting, under the form of fable, or allegory, or maxim,
portions of truth which the sacred oracles had scattered
around them in their transmission.9
Having traversed Egypt, where he is said to have as
sumed the disguise of an olive-merchant, in order to jour
ney more securely in a country not naturally tolerant ol
strangers, he purposed penetrating into Persia and India.
But the disturbed state of those parts of Asia prevented
his fulfilling his intentions. He returned accordingly to
Magna Grsecia, once more to enjoy the society of the Py-
787
Plato.
3 a(^ ^n" 2 See Theoetet. throughout,
p 154° ^ a*°’ ^eP' x‘ P1 293; Polyb. ii. 39; Aul. Cell. i. 9; Origen. C. Cels. ii. p. 67, iii. p. 142, ed Spenc.; Jamblich. Pyth. Fit. c. 17,
Be Senect. c. 12. Cicero says Plato was at Tarentum in the consulship of L. Camillus and Appius Claudius. There appears some
inaccuracy m the tradition, but we may believe its substantial truth.
7 Fr * B’ C' Iler0(l°t. Euterp. 154. 6 Herodot. Eutcrp. 123.
8 Pllny says that Plato went to Egypt for the purpose of learning magic. Hist. Nat. xxxi. c. 1.
Quapropter in ilia peregrinatione sua, Plato, nec Hieremiam videre potuit tanto ante defunctum, nec easdem scripturas legere quae
nondum fuefant in Graecam linguam translatae. (Augustin. Be Civ. Bei, viii. 11.) Clement of Alexandria, however, asserts that there
tj a v®rslon °1 )l*e Law prior to that of the Septuagint. Strom, i.; Euseb. Prcep. Evan. ix. 6.
tic idi61106 ^ WaS Sa^ ^ Numenius the Pythagorean, t< yao tm riAarwv, n MariJ; “ What is Plato, but Moses speaking in At-
Plato.
788
p L A T O.
Plato, thagorcans.
•were taken up in his wanderings.
subsisted unimpaired until the tragical death of the latter, the story, whatever may be thought of the particulars.
Through the influence of Dion, the tyrant Dionysius, There can be little doubt that the visit of Plato at byra-
who was himself a literary man and a patron of literature, cuse ended unsatisfactorily; that offence arose between the
was induced to receive Plato into the circle of his court, tyrant and himself; that he was treated with great indig-
The result, however, whether it was owing to the jealousy nity, and that he returned to Athens in disgust.”
of other philosophers who were then at the court of Syra- h rom this time we may contemplate him as. pin suing,
cuse, or to an excess of freedom of speech in Plato, and an with little interruption, the course of philosophical labom
ebullition of temper and disappointed literary vanity on for which his whole previous life had prepared him. Ihe
the part of Dionysius, was unfortunate. Dionysius was term “ Academy” is now familiar to every one as synony-
affronted at some words that passed at an interview with mous with a place of learning. How strongly does this
him, and was only prevented by the interposition of Dion mark the celebrity of a school, which has thus immortaliz-
from slaying the philosopher in the moment of exaspera- ed in vernacular language the grove of the hero Academus
tion. But still he did not remit his displeasure ; for on or Hecademus, the ground on which Plato walked, and, as.
suffering him to depart, he instructed the Lacedaemonian he walked, imparted to the throng around him the riches of
ambassador, Pollis, in whose vessel he was to be conveyed his genius, and taste, and learning! Here, in the most
ffom Sicily, either to slay him on the voyage or to sell him beautiful suburb of Athens, the Ceramicus, Plato possessed
as a slave; observing sarcastically, “that being a just man, a small patrimony, a garden, where he fixed his abode, in
he would be equally happy though reduced to slavery.” the immediate vicinity of the grove, his daily resort. Here,
Pollis is said to have so far lent himself to this cruel treach- amongst the tall plane-trees which shaded the walks, were
ery, that he actually caused the philosopher to be sold as a assembled, year after year, the master-spirits of the age,
slave, by landing him at ASgina at a time when a decree whether in pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, or for
was in force there, sentencing to death every Athenian counsel in the direction of public or private life,—the phi-
who should set foot in the island. From this shameful in- losopher, the statesman, and the man of the world,—to con-
dignity, however, Plato was immediately relieved by the verse with the Athenian sage, and imbibe the wisdom which
generous kindness of Anniceris, a philosopher of Gyrene, fell from his lips. What an interesting assemblage must
who happened to be at yEgina at the time, and paid the that have been which comprized in it, amongst other in¬
twenty minse, the price of his redemption. And such, it is fluential persons, and young men who afterwards rose to
added, was the noble concern which Anniceris felt for importance in their respective states, Demosthenes, Hype-
him, that he could not be prevailed on to receive back the rides, Aristotle, Speusippus, Xenocrates, Polemo, Dion!
money from the friends of Plato at Athens, but refused it, At once you might see in the throng the young and the
saying “ that they were not the only persons interested in gay by the side of the old and the sedate; the stranger
the welfare of Plato.”3 from some distant town of Asia Minor, or Thrace, or Mag-
The story is related with circumstantial particularity, na Graecia, and the citizen of Athens; the tyrant of some
and so far bears the aspect of truth. Still it has been ques- little state learning theories of government and laws from
lioned, as inconsistent with the character of Dionysius, who, the philosopher of the republic; and the haughty Lacedae-
though despotic in the power which he possessed, and often monian paying deference to the superior wisdom of an in-
cruel in his use of it, was a man of education and courtesy, dividual of a country which his own had humbled in arms.8
and the patron of literary men. And the treachery of Nor was the audience exclusively of the male sex. The
Pollis, as thus exhibited, has been regarded as altogether wives and daughters of Athenian citizens, indeed, were not
b. c. 389. Ep. vii. p. 93, Bipont ed. * Plutarch in Dion, tom. v. p. 262, Iteiske.
7 Dlat. * Thucyd. iv. 80. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid.
rhe conduct of Dionysius towards Philoxenus, the dithyrambic poet, for freely giving his opinion on the had poetry of Dionysius,
vas very similar. See Diodorus Siculus, xv. 6, who also, in xv. 7, confirms the account of this treatment of Plato.
n the Dialogue “ on Laws,” it is the Athenian stranger who instructs the Lacedaemonian and Cretan in the theory of legislation,
aere we have probably a representation of what actually was seen in the Academia itself. Socrates is away; Plato speaks; Cretans
and Lacedienionians, among others, are the auditors.
PLATO.
Plato, in that assembly ; for custom excluded these. But the ac-
complished courtezan, whom the unnatural exclusion of the
chaste matron from social intercourse had raised to impor¬
tance in Grecian society, was there, seeking the improve¬
ment of her mind by joining in the discussions and listen¬
ing to the instructions of the philosopher, and thus quali¬
fying herself for that part which she had to sustain as an inti¬
mate with the men of the highest rank and most intellectual
cultivation in Greece. The celebrated Aspasia had been at
once the intimate of Pericles, and a hearer of Socrates; and
Plato himself pays her the compliment of saying, that both
Pericles and Socrates had taken lessons in rhetoric from
her, as a most accomplished mistress of the art ; to whom,
indeed, Pericles had been chiefly indebted for his elo¬
quence.1 So now in Plato’s own school of the Academia
were found, amongst others of the same class, the beautiful
Mantinean Lasthenea, and Axiothea of Phlius.
Socrates attracted persons around him from all parts of the
Grecian world, by the charm of his engaging conversation,
and thus became in himself a great object of interest.2 Plato
made Athens itself also, even more than his owrn person,
an object of interest to the civilized world of his day; con¬
verting it, from being only the centre of political intrigue and
agitation to the cities of Greece, into a common university
and common home for all. Compare what was said of
Athens about half a century before, “ that it was the na¬
ture of Athenians neither to keep quiet themselves, nor to
suffer other people to do so,”3 and its well-known charac¬
ter at that time of a t{ tyrant state,”4 with the respect which
Plato had won for it, when it became, not through the
versatility of its citizens, and its inexhaustible resources,
but by a truer title, through the lessons of virtue and wis¬
dom, which it freely imparted to all, pre-eminently the
School of Greece ;5—and what an exalted opinion does the
change now operated give us of the influence of Plato!
Isocrates had, at the same time, his school of rhetoric
overflowing with pupils. Aristippus, also trained in the
school of Socrates, was inculcating his scheme of ethics,
which maintained the theory of Pleasure as the Chief Good.
But esteemed as Isocrates was for the gentleness of his
life, and his skill as a master of rhetoric; and acceptable
as the doctrines of Aristippus must naturally have been to
a corrupt society ; neither of these great names sufficed to
obscure the greater name of Plato, or could rival the pre¬
tensions of the Academia to be the great school of philo¬
sophy, and literature, and civilizationr
A mind so intensely occupied as that of Plato, wxmld
scarcely find leisure for taking part in the political affairs
of his country. The profession of philosophy was not as
yet indeed become entirely distinct; but the* teaching of
Socrates had greatly tended to render it so. His rigorous
method of interrogation which called forth the latent diffi¬
culties on other subjects, could not but produce great dis¬
trust in those who laid themselves fully open to it, as to
their own ability to manage the complex matters of public
concern, as well as impress them with despair of success
in that walk of exertion. Socrates himself avoided as far
as possible all interference in the politics of Athens. Plato
strictly followed his example. Accordingly, we find, in
several places of his writings, a contrast drawn between
the philosopher and the man of public life; and an indirect
apology for himself, as one who kept aloof from the public
assemblies and the courts.6 * He betrays indeed strong
disgust, not unmixed with contemptuous feeling, at the
state of misrule into which the democracy of Athens had
degenerated in his day, and he was evidently glad to avail
nmself of the plea of philosophy to absent himself from
scenes so uncongenial to his taste. Doubtless, indepen-
c ently of any political bias, he was glad to escape from the
sycophancy and tumult of the popular assemblies at Athens,
and to enjoy the calm shades of his beloved retreat. This
was the sphere of action for which nature and his whole
previous life had peculiarly fitted him. Here he could effec-
tually diffuse the salutary influence of his philosophy, in coun¬
teracting, in some measure at least, the selfishness of the world.
Here he could maintain an undisputed supremacy over minds,
which (such was the impatience of all authority in those
times) no mere external power could have controuled or so
entirely subjected to the direction of an individual.
Through the influence, however, of his Pythagorean
fi lends, with whom he appears to have held constant in¬
tercourse, Plato was prevailed upon, at the age of sixty-
five years, to quit the retirement of his garden for a time,
and pay a second visit to Sicily.? It was the policy indeed
of the Pythagoreans, like that of the Jesuits in modern
times, to keep up an active intercourse with society, whilst
in their internal system they cultivated philosophy with
the ardour of exclusive devotees. Socrates wished to go¬
vern the conduct of men by an appeal to their reason ; con¬
vincing them of their errors and follies, and leading them
to seek the means of informing themselves aright. The Py¬
thagoreans, like the Jesuits, aspired to carry out their views
by a moral hold over men in society ; by taking part accord¬
ingly in the management of states, and'by a secret influence
over those in power. The accession of the younger Diony¬
sius to the throne of Syracuse, and the opening presented
for producing an effect on him through Plato’s influence
with Dion,, the next in power to the tyrant, were opportuni¬
ties which would not be lost by their'watchful zeal. Such
seems, if we may proceed on the authority of the Epistles,
to have been the occasion of this invitation of Plato to
Syracuse. We see, at the same time, that there was a
struggle of factions at Syracuse at this period. The party
opposed to Dion, in order to counteract his influence, ob¬
tained the recall of Philistus, a man distinguished alike as
a statesman, a commander, and an historian,8 and a stre¬
nuous supporter of the existing government, but then in
banishment through the ingratitude and caprice of the
elder Dionysius. The result was, that though the recep¬
tion of Plato at Syracuse was most flattering, for he was
welcomed with the royal pomp of a decorated chariot, and
the celebration of a public sacrifice, his mission was ulti¬
mately fruitless.
At first everything seemed prosperous. The change
wrought in the manners of the court is described as mar¬
vellous. Philosophy became the fashion; and the very
palace was filled with the dust stirred up by the number
of geometricians. Even the expulsion of Dion, which
soon followed, through the successful intrigues of his ene¬
mies, did not at once estrange Dionysius from the philoso-
789
Plato.
1 Plat. Menex. p. 277.
During the representation of “ the Clouds,” he stood up in a conspicuous part of the theatre to gratify the curiosity of the audience
many ot them strangers visiting Athens at the festival, to see the philosopher who had attracted so much notice as to be nersonated nn
the stage. vElian. Var. Hist. ii. 13. pcibomnea on
! '£|lu7d- h 70. 4 mdt i !24.
7 60’ P’ H5; Thext. p. 115, et seq.; Gorg. p. 82, et seq.; Repub. vi. p. 79; Epist. vii.
5 Ibid. ii. 41.
7  ’ i , * iLCdi. p. i i.t, ei seq.; L.org. p. oz, et seq.; Hepub. vi. p. t'J ; vn.
,, , Jr>,I08'elll?S Eaertius says, he went to Sicily on this occasion, in order to found a city according to the principles of his Renublic but
iat Dionysius failed in his promise of land and men for the purpose. But others, he adds, stated that the object of his visit was the
liberation ot the island from tyranny. In Vit. Plat.
f * l<^ero °f PMistus as a writer in the following manner: Philistum doctum hominem et diligentem. (De Divin. i 20.1 Ca-
tonem cum 1 hilisto et Thucydide comparares? quos enim ne e Gnecis quisquam imitari potest. (Dc Clar. Oral.')
790
PLATO.
Plato.
pher. He would not indeed allow Plato to leave Sicily
’ with Dion; but, using a gentle constraint over him, de¬
tained him within the precincts of the citadel; shewing
him at the same time all respect, and hopmg at last, as it
seems, to bring him over to his interest. At length the
attention of Dionysius was called to preparations for war;
and Plato, released from his embarrassing situation, was
enabled to return to Athens.
He was not, however, deterred from once more making
the trial, how far an impression could be made on the
mind of Dionysius, and the restoration of Dion to his
country effected; and, as on the former occasion, so non,
he was chiefly induced to undertake the enterprise, by the
earnest intercession of his Pythagorean friends, ^i01^
himself wras living at Athens, waiting the opportunity of
returning to his country; and his relatives at Syracuse
sent letters to Plato, urging him to use his exertions in
behalf of Dion. Even Dionysius himself wrote a letter
to him, entreating him to come, and pi'omising satisfaction
at the same time in regard to Dion. He also sent a trireme
for him, with Archidemus, a disciple of Arehytas, and others
with whom the philosopher was acquainted, to render the
voyage more agreeable to him.1 For a while Plato per¬
sisted in declining the invitation, pleading his advanced
age, for he was now sixty-eight years old but at length
he gave wyay to these united solicitations. Dionysius, in¬
deed, like his father, was fond of drawing around him men
of eminence for literature and philosophy. At this time,
amongst others of the same class at his court, were the
philosophers Diogenes, fEschines, Aristippus, and some
Pythagoreans. Plato might have not unreasonably hoped,
therefore, that a mind delighting in such society, or at
least ambitious of the reputation of being a patron of li¬
terature, might yet be influenced to sound philosophy.
He wras, besides, desirous of making an attempt to pro¬
duce a reconciliation between Dionysius and Dion. Thus
did he pass the Straits of Sicily a third time, to be a third
time disappointed in the object of his voyage. Though
he was welcomed, as before, with great splendour and de¬
monstrations of respect, not only were his endeavours for
the restoration of Dion unsuccessful, but he incensed the
tyrant by venturing to intercede in behalf of Heraclides,
a member of the liberal party at Syracuse, who was under
suspicion of having tampered with the mercenaries. Still
Dionysius was desirous of retaining the friendship of the
philosopher. Plato was removed, indeed, from the garden
in which he lived, under the pretence of a sacrifice about
to be performed there by women, and placed in the quar¬
ter of the mercenaries. Such a situation was most unplea¬
sant to him; as he could not but feel himself in danger
amongst that lawless class, who naturally disliked him, as
an enemy of the power which gave them employment and
pay.3 But this indignity was probably more the effect of
the hostility of the opposite party against Dion, than an act
of the wTeak tyrant himself. Plato, in his perplexity, applied
to Archytas and the Pythagoreans at Tarentum, to extri¬
cate him from these difficult circumstances. At their in¬
stance, accordingly, Dionysius consented to the departure
of Plato, and dismissed him with kindness, furnishing him
with supplies for his voyage.
_ Thus did Plato once more return to Athens, heartily
disgusted with the untoward result of his visits to Sicily.4
Though the friend of Dion, the head of one great party at
Syracuse, he had acted in Sicily consistently with his con- ^
duct at Athens, in not taking any active part in political
affairs. Even Dionysius himself seems, throughout his
conduct towards him, to have been jealous rather of his
personal regard for Dion, than suspicious of any exertion
on his part in the cause of Dion against him, and to have
sought to detain him at Syracuse, not out of fear or ill will,
but for the honour of the presence of the philosopher at his
court. This is further evinced by the subsequent conduct
of Plato. For, in the expedition which Dion planned and
executed against Dionysius, he took no part; making an¬
swer to the invitation to join in it, “ that if invited to assist
in doing any good, he would readily concur; but as for
doing evil to any one, they must invite others, not him.”5
The remaining years of his life were gently worn away
amidst the labours of the Academia. These labours were
unintermitted to the very close of a long life ; for he died,
according to Cicero’s account, in the act of writing; his
death happening on the day in which he completed his
eighty-first year. “ Such,” adds Cicero, “ was the placid
and gentle old age of a life spent in quietness, and purity,
and elegance.”6 Another account, however, of his death
states that he died during his presence at a marriage-
feast.7 And another account besides (evidently the in¬
vention of some enemy to his fame), attributes his death to
a loathsome disease.8 On his first residence in the garden
of the Academia, his health had been impaired by a linger¬
ing fever, in consequence of the marshiness of the ground.
He was urged to remove his residence to the Lyceum, the
grove afterwards frequented by the school of Aristotle;
but such was his attachment to the place, that he prefer¬
red it, he said, even to the proverbial salubrity of Mount
Athos ; and he continued struggling against the disorder for
eighteen months, until at length his constitution successfully
resisted it.9 Adopting habits of strict temperance, he thus
preserved his health during the remainder of his life, amidst
the harassings of foreign travel, and the undermining assi¬
duities of days and nights of study.
Plato was never married. He had two brothers, Glauco
and Adimantus, and a sister, Potona, whose son, Speusip-
pus, he appears to have regarded with peculiar affection
and interest, as the destined successor to his school of phi¬
losophy. He inherited a very small patrimony, and he died
poor, leaving but three minse of silver, two pieces of land,
and four slaves, and a few articles of gold and silver to the
young Adimantus, the son, as it w ould seem, of his brother
of that name.10
In person he is described as graceful in his youth, and,
if the etymology of his name be correct, as remarkable for
the manly frame of his body.11 One circumstance, how¬
ever, is mentioned, which detracts in some measure from
his bodily accomplishments ; the imperfection of his voice,
which has been characterized as wanting in strength of tone.12
In regard to moral qualities, he was distinguished by
the gravity, and modesty, and gentleness of his demeanour.
He had never been observed from his youth to indulge in
excessive laughter.13 Several anecdotes are told of his
self-command under provocation ; as, for example, his de¬
clining to inflict the due punishment on a slave wffien he
found himself under the excitement of anger.14 A pleasing
instance is given of his amiableness and modesty, at a time
Plato.
* Plat. Epist. vii. p. 124. 2 b. c. 361. 3 Plutarch, in Dion.
Mtfuirtixa; mv Kiel ItxiXiav -rXccr/tv xai arv%iu*. (Plato, Ep. vii. 149, Blp. ed.) 5 Ep. p. 149.
8 Diog. Laert. in Vit. after Hermippus. 7 Be Scnect. c. 5.
9 “ £v ‘Oftowii <P'/i<ri, (fiXuva, vuoaipia; fAvqftoviviiv ti/ii rm TlXuruvos <p9u»<av, as iuru; uvrou TlXtorn^avTo;. (Diog. Laert. in Vita)
u p + ' ., 10 Diog. Laert. in Fit.; Aul. Gell. Noc. Att. iii. 18.
l2 *rat (luu-em corpus validum ac forte sortitus, et illi nomen latitude pectoris fecerat. (Seneca, Epist. 58.)
u Diog. Laert. in Vit. is Diog. Laert. in Vit. after Heraciides.
,, , 10£- fjaf ,111 Vi*- Seneca Be Ira. The anecdotes themselves can hardly be regarded as original. Similar stories are told of
o er*, as o Archytas. Ex quo illud laudatur Archytae; qiu cum villico factus esset iratior, “ Quo te modo, inquit, accepissem, nisi
iratus essem ? (Cicero, Tusc. Qu. iv. 36.) > u > v >
plat o.
Plato, when his fame was at its height. Some strangers, into
' whose company he had been thrown at Olympia, coming
afterwards to Athens, were received by him there with the
greatest courtesy. All the while, however, they were ig¬
norant who their host was. They merely knew that his
name was Plato. On their requesting him to conduct them
to the Academia, and show them his namesake, the asso¬
ciate of Socrates, they were astonished to find, by his smile
and avowal of himself, that they had experienced so much
unpretending kindness from the great philosopher himself.1
Again, being asked by some one if there would be any say¬
ing recorded of him, he answered with the like modesty,
“ One must first obtain a name, and then there will be se¬
veral.”2
Ihe gravity of his manner was by some interpreted as
severity and gloom. The comic poet Amphis complained
of him, that “ he knew nothing but to look sad, and so¬
lemnly raise the brow.” Aristippus charged him with ar¬
rogance. It is no wonder, indeed, that, in contrast with
the coarse freedom of Diogenes, and the excessive affabi¬
lity of Aristippus, he should appear haughty and reserved.
But that this character did not really belong to him, we
may judge from the social humour which mingles even
with the sarcastic touches of his Dialogues, and from the
anxiety which he shewed to correct such a disposition as a
fault in Dion. His favourite pupil Speusippus was distin¬
guished by the opposite quality of a lively temper; and to
his especial direction we find Plato sending Dion, that he
might learn, by the conversation and example of Speusip¬
pus, a more conciliatory and agreeable mode of address.
The instance given of his vanity in putting himself for¬
ward at the death of Socrates, as competent to retrieve the
great loss in his own person alone, bears evident marks of
a calumny. It may be so far true, as it represents a desire
upon his part to console his brother disciples under their
common affliction. But as an evidence of an assumption
of superiority over them at such a moment, it accords little
with that feeling of dismay for themselves, under which he,
in common with the rest, fled to Megara as an asylum; or
with his indisputable affection for the person of Socrates,
and veneration for his wisdom and talents.
Again, the strictness of Plato’s philosophical profession,
amidst the general dissoluteness of manners at Athens,
was construed by some who had an envious eye on his re¬
putation, as only an affected austerity. It was complained
of him, that his life did not answer to the high requisitions
of his moral teaching.3 Two of his brother disciples in the
school of Socrates, Antisthenes and Aristippus, imputed to
him the grossest licentiousness. The former taking offence
at Plato for objecting to a treatise, which he proposed to
read, on the Impossibility of Contradiction, vented his spleen
in a most abusive dialogue, which he entitled Satho, intend¬
ing at once by that term a satirical play on the name, and
a stigma on the character, of the philosopher. These ca¬
lumnies are in some measure supported by the tenor of
certain epigrams attributed to Plato, and by passages of
his Dialogues, wdiich display a license of impure allusion,
shocking to the feelings of the reader, in these days at least.
His calumniators then found occasion for their scandal, in
observing amongst those by whom he was surrounded, the
young and the handsome. But though we may see much
to reprobate in such passages, and painful as the impression
791
is which they leave on the mind, as evidences of the deep Plato,
corruption of human nature, we are not warranted in regard- '^*m*v~**S
ing them as conclusive of corresponding immorality of con¬
duct in a writer of his age and country. They would show,
indeed, that the writer Ijas not escaped the contagion of
the vicious atmosphere which he breathed; and they are of
course a great drawback m our estimate of the purity of
his sentiments and character. But we ought to set off
against them the high tone of religious and moral feeling
which is the general characteristic of his philosophy; the
beacon which it holds up to warn men of the debasing al¬
lurements of pleasure, and of the misery consequent on
the indulgence of passion; and its glowing exhortation to
seek for tiue happiness, not in externals, or by aiming at a
mere human standard of virtue, but by internal purifica¬
tion, and by imitation of the perfections" of the Deity.
Much has been said on the absence of any reference to
Xenophon in the Dialogues of Plato. Xenophon, in his
Memorabilia, has spoken of Plato, and alluded to the affec¬
tion with which Plato was regarded by Socrates.4 But
Plato has not availed himself of any opportunity of paying
the like compliment to Xenophon. This silence cannog
perhaps, be entirely accounted for, without supposing that
there w*is a feeling of literary jealousy on the part of Plato.
But there are some considerations which may partly ac¬
count for Xenophon’s not appearing as an interlocutor in
the Dialogues. Xenophon, though a man of philosophical
mind, evidently attended the teaching of Socrates, not to
learn the art of disputation, or for the indulgence of a spe¬
culative curiosity. When he philosophized, it was as a
man of the world, acquainting himself with human na¬
ture, with the manners and opinions of men, in order to
his own conduct in life. He was not one of those eager
and flippant sciolists, whom Plato takes delight in submit¬
ting as apt experiments to the interrogatories of Socrates.
Nor was he, again, a devotee of science, like the wise
Theaetetus, the interesting person who gives occasion to
the dialogue of that name, and whom in some points he
resembled. He would not therefore naturally be selected
by Plato, in order to the carrying on of discussions intend¬
ed for the development of his philosophy. It is remarkable,
that Plato has only in two places even alluded to himself;
in the Phcedo, to explain his absence from the death-scene
in the prison ;5 and in the Apologia, as amongst those pre¬
sent at the trial of Socrates, and capable of giving evidence
as to the nature of those instructions which Socrates ad¬
dressed to the young.6
Such was the character of this eminent man. His dis¬
tinguished career exposed him to the shafts of envy and
detraction; and the high aspirings of his mind were clog¬
ged and weighed down by that corrupt heathenism with
which he was surrounded. Still his reputation for wisdom
and virtue stands above all these attacks and circumstances
of disparagement. The more we converse with him in his
writings, the more we are charmed by the deep feeling of
natural piety which pervades his philosophy as its master-
thought, and by the sound practical wisdom which shines
forth from them as the real character of the man, reclaim¬
ing and subduing the wild aberrations of his speculative
fancy.
His remains were buried in the place which he had en¬
nobled whilst living. Nor were they unattended by the
1 Apian, Var. Hist. iv. 9.  = Diog. Laert. in Vit. p. 23, Bip.
s “ Aliter, inquit, loqueris; aliter vivis.” Hoc, malignissima capita, et optimo cuique inimicissima, Platoni objectum est, objectum
Epicuro, objectum Zenoni. Omnes enim isti dicebant, non quemadmodum ipsi viverent, sed quemadmodum vivendum esset. (Seneca
He Vit. Beat. c. 18.) '
4 Xenoph. Mem. iii. 6.
5 TVKo.’tuv Si, o'lftca, {Pher.do, § 6.) This circumstance was perhaps thrown in for graphic effect. His own sorrow is too intense to
be depicted; therefore he is concealed from the view : his name is introduced, but merely to state that he was not present.
Apol. p. 78, Bip. ed. 1
PLAT O.
792
Plato’s customary tributes of honour and affection. Aristotle, who
Writings }laci been his constant disciple during the last twenty years
and Philo* preceding his death, displayed his veneration for his pre-
v S°p iy'_. ceptor by consecrating an altar to him. A festival, called
after him Platonea, was instituted in honour of him, and
celebrated annually by his disciples. A statue, dedicated
to the Muses, was afterwards erected in the Academia by
Mithridates the Persian. He had not, indeed, been dead
but a very few years, when the great celebrity of his name
called forth from his nephew and successor, Speusippus, an
express work in his praise. Seneca further tells us of a
singular mark of honour which was paid to him on the very
day of his decease. There were some Magi, he relates, at
Athens at the time, who, struck by tbe singular circum¬
stance of his having exactly completed the perfect number
of nine times nine years, performed a sacrifice to him,
esteeming him on that account to have been more than
man.1 The story is evidently the invention of his later ad¬
mirers. It is referred to here, as a testimony of the enthu¬
siastic admiration with which his name has been ever at¬
tended. To the same feeling must be ascribed the fiction
of the discovery of his body in the time of Constantine the
Great, with a golden tablet on the breast, recording his
prediction of the birth of Christ, and his own belief in the
Saviour.2
plato’s writings and philosophy.
The writings of Plato obtained an early popularity. Al¬
ready, during his lifetime, copies of them appear to have
been circulated. An iambic line, Xoyo/ff/v l^o-
givtrca, proverbially applied, long after the time of Plato, to
those who made a traffic of the writings of others,3 shews
that there was an immediate demand for them in Greece.
The Hermodorus here referred to, was one of his hearers,
who is said to have sold the writings of the philosopher in
Sicily for his own profit. The fact of their early circula¬
tion is further evidenced, if it be true, as has been stated, that
complaints were made by some of the persons whose names
appear in the Dialogues, and even by Socrates himself, of
the manner in which they had been represented in them by
Plato.4 It is very probable, also,'that during the long time
in which he was publicly teaching at Athens, and, doubtless,
recurring frequently to the same topics of discussion, con¬
siderable portions of what he delivered orally, were trea¬
sured up in the memory of some who heard them, and after¬
wards written down, and thus published to the world with¬
out having received the finishing touches of the author’s
hand. The practice, indeed, of thus carrying off the oral
lessons of the philosopher is alluded to by Plato himself in
passages of his writings, as in the Phcedo, and The<Etetus,
and Parmenides; where the dialogue is related by some one
remembering what has passed in conversation on a former
occasion. This circumstance may, at once, account for the
comparative inferiority of some of the Dialogues in point
of execution, and for the fact that some have been passed
under his name which are not really his; whilst we have,
at the same time, a very considerable collection of writings
authenticated by testimonies descending from his own times.
It is by no means necessary for our purpose here (which
is to obtain a just general view of the character of the phi¬
losopher and his writings), to enter into the criticisms by
which doubts have been thrown on particular Dialogues, Plato’s
and on different Dialogues by different critics, out of the Writings
number commonly included amongst the genuine works of and Phll°'
Plato. We may only remark, that these doubts do not rest, so^
on external testimony, but are drawn from considerations
of the internal character of particular writings, which have
been judged inferior to the rest in matter and execution.
Nor is it necessary that we should discuss the various theo¬
ries proposed for connecting the several Dialogues, and tra¬
cing in them the gradual formation and development of the
philosophical system of the author. This inquiry certainly
has its interest; and could we arrive at any clear results
in the prosecution of it, it would be valuable, for the light
which it wmuld throw on the interpretation of the philoso¬
phy of Plato. But though we can discover a connection i
between several of the Dialogues, like that of a series of
discussions on the same subject, it is not possible to decide
on the order in which the points discussed presented them¬
selves to the philosopher’s mind, or which we are to regard
as the more mature expression of his doctrines. This in¬
quiry further demands a decision of the agitated question
concerning the double teaching practised in the ancient
schools, known by the technical division into esoteric and
exoteric, or mystic and popular ; the former addressed to
the mature disciple, the latter to the novice or general
hearer. There are undoubtedly marks of a recognition of
this distinction throughout the writings of Plato ;5 and it is
also probably referred to by Aristotle, when he speaks of the
“ unwritten doctrines” of Plato.6 But we cannot practi¬
cally employ it in determining the relative value of parti¬
cular discussions or statements in his writings, without in
volving ourselves in a maze of theoretic disquisition, and
ending at last, perhaps, in absolute scepticism respecting
his doctrines.
But there is a particular class of writings attributed to
him, which would possess a peculiar interest for us, if we
could establish their genuineness; respecting which, howr-
ever, the severe verdict of modern criticism compels us to
hesitate in pronouncing on their genuineness. We mean
what are commonly published in the editions of his works as
the Epistles of Plato. By some the question has been regard¬
ed as settled beyond controversy, against their reception.7
The style of their composition has been judged to be quite
below the character of Plato’s mind. The apologetic tone of
the chief part of them has also been considered as evidence
of their having proceeded from friends or disciples of Plato,
vindicating his character from misrepresentations in regard
to his intercourse with the court of Syracuse. But though
we may allow weight to these considerations, they are not
sufficient peremptorily to decide the question against the
Epistles; particularly as we have in their favour the autho¬
rity, not only of Plutarch, who founds much of the narra¬
tive in his Life of Dion upon them, but of Cicero, referring
to them and quoting them expressly as writings of Plato.6
Perhaps no philosophical writer has ever received so
early and ample a recompense of his labours, not only in
the reception and circulation of his writings, but in the
still more glorious tribute of the spread of his philosophy,
as Plato has received. We have mentioned the ordinary
marks of admiration which accompanied him during his
life and after his death. A more enduring monument was
reserved for him in the foundation of the school of Alex¬
andria, not many years after his voice had ceased to be
3 ^e.nec- Bp- Iviii. 28. 2 Brucker, Hist. Grit. Phil. tom. i- p. 054.
3 Die mihi, placetne tibi, pnmum, edere injussu meo? Hoc ne Hermodorus quidem f'aciebat, is qui Hatonis libros solitus est di.
■vulgare ; ex quo Xo-ycmv (Cieer. Ep. ad Alt. xiii. 21.)
^ . t lenseus, xi. 113. Axiothea is said to have been induced to attend on the teaching of Plato, from havincr read the Bepublic.
8 K ’nrLi av •CCT™p- 245-- . 6 Aristot. Phys. iv. 2. 7 Mitford, Hist, of Greece, vol. vi. ; Ritter, Hist. ofAnc. Phil.
flrJa a(1 1)101118 propinquos ; in qua scriptum est his fere verbis: “ Quo cum venissem, vita ilia beata
qua. rerebatur, &c. Tusc. Qu. v. 35 ; also De Offic. i. 7 ; and De Fin. ii. 14.
Plato’s
Writings
PLATO.
„d phio. s,irsing r- ■»
soph,. Worlds, was enshrined the philosophy which had moulded tranquil labours of his school ‘IS unInoleste<1’ almdst tl;e
into one the philosophical systems of the East and the The only evidence to ttJ c o • •
West. And though, in the course of things, the infusion thenticated anecdote told bv LaertiuTof pi'? an- UnaU*
of Eastern Philosophy predominated at Alexandria, it was companied Chabrias ’to thfdtaXlofA thl^ § ‘T aC'
still under the venerated name of Plato that the new svs- his zeal in c„nnnri ,A’Vi V citadel ot Athens, and shewn
tem was taught. The disciples of the Alexandrine school brought agai.^t him Uno^tto occ^o1 'e-fCaP't‘'- f
were proud to call themselves Platonists, and to re-ard bylus^ the^svconhmt th^ occafon’ lt 's said> Cro-
themselves as interpreters of the teaching of Plato, whilst coming to pE^id for’anothe? obserfvf^ ‘‘Are you
they altered and disfigured that teaching. Here, thnn lnr>L nf* s™,.o+™ gnorant that the hem-
793
pi-M’s
Writings
and Philo¬
sophy.
“d disfi«ured «“» ‘^aching. Here, then, Io^,°f So£it7% ‘awaftTyou’ to ^'bTwhich1 he^rerfied
;rhs„ s invs*   Li-a-««««t
was erected the proper monument to ^xctniwnne
in the Academia, teachers in regular succession transmit- gers, and now in the cause of dnMr T , a .1
ted their inheritance of his name, and by the charm of friend.”2 “ undergo them for a
that, prolonged a feeble existence. For the spirit which But though we may refuse to believe tl • *
had formed and animated the school had fled with him; quite evident that theVnndif;™ c 1 , T St0ry’ !t 13
and the Middle and New Academics only attested, by their was not without its obloauv and d ^ " 0S0Phy.at Athens
lingering decay, the strength of the foundation on which flourishing times under PkL We g7 T" r' ltS m°St
they had been bull, How great the influence of Plato was o “U , jfcanTe f"'^”5'
on the philosophy of the Romans, needs not to be told to >hy still needed defence \nrf?L > • ofPhllos°-
swttiss«3!a*r«5
Plat°- £^““.t!fChcre.Teref»'“d’ ™t unwilling to own suffered retribution from the p^arTehnt StflUheS
- -    tU U.'VIl
that there was great accordance between his doctrines and
the revealed truth. Whilst, on the one hand, there were
disciples of the philosopher who claimed for him all that was
excellent in the Christian scheme, there were Christians who
elder Scriptures. All this shews the hold which his name
still retained over the minds of men at this period The
great father of the Western Church, St Augustin, avows
himselt a warm admirer of Plato. He concedes the ap-
pnixinmtion of the Platonists to the Christian doctrines;
was in the mass of the Athenian people a strong antipa-
thy to philosophy, from their ignorance of its real nature.
1 hey had been taught to regard philosophers as idle and
mischievous drivellers, ever prosing about nature and the
TA11 Li TA /A m /A o /-vX* ♦■I-*/-* 1-x ~  1
They had seen also how some of those to whom Athens
owed her greatest calamities, had been amongst the students
of philosophy. Alcibiades, for example, had been a hearer
of 5ocrates; one ot singular natural endowments, in the for¬
mation of whose mind Socrates had taken especial pains
S?££&£Z8Z&;s3> 4^sS"&5*SHSS
Plato in favour with fll d Aristotle supplanting spoiled child, in spite of all his follies; but they had felt
S^taSsSSSiS sSSsSSaSgs
though the result of the ctmo-o-l " 10 e’ - ^ mastery» judice llad been excited in the public mind against philo-
Aich the prindtfd fferSffinhe tw„C^TC 1^”’ “ ?°phy in/.e"eral> fi»"> ‘he ■"""y low and mercenaryPpro-
Stu,UouX?econSed iTw 2 £ feasors of it with which Greece abounded; minute philo-
as in thelscendencv'in^hfrLuti.T5' ,COnf'der ^la‘onism “phers, patronized by the public for their temporary ser-
rfofl1 of Scholasticism ha is un? the , tn11" n ‘n® PT Vi“S in tCachinS the arts of Publie life. but who produced
lldngceZSfXn^ .gnominy and disgust to the true profession by their un-
at its helX^tbe rl!£h T f #UmeI!tatl;n was worthy ">0"opoly of its name. Add to this, that popular
totles phflosophy!16 Even'flier^tlie^theories^f^lato^imf*3" b<ien ^7^ ^ &ke
 ■ The speculations nursLd £ olX" «* work ‘h‘°ughout
tained their ground. The speculations pursued by mem¬
bers of the Cnurch continued to be for the most part Pla-
tonic in their principles, though they were conducted and
modified by the dialectical method of Aristotle.
What, then, was the character of this philosophy, it will
naturally be asked, which both rendered it so attractive to
those amongst whom it arose, and also secured for it such
an immortality ?
It is a very remarkable circumstance that, as far as we
IJ I <-» 4- .-v  1 J "I in
Greece. Erroneous principles of judgment and conduct
had taken root in the public mind; or, to describe the
case more correctly, all principles were unsettled, and the
state of the public mind was a state of inward anarchy
and insubordination. A philosopher, therefore, seriously
devoted to his profession, and pursuing it with a single
eye to the advancement of truth, was necessarily regarded
with suspicion and dislike. For it is a natural propensity
of the mind to adhere to what is established, whether it
t>i * W i j v , „ uo idi at, we oi me mind to acuiere to wnat is established, whether it
aeeniint nf°iv aV v escaPet^ a censure at Athens on be good or evil, simply because the transition is easy and
like him hernm^ 1 °SOp wheiJ ot ler i)hll°sophers, who, no effort of thought is required, no trouble of self-examina-
ieets nf evtr C centres .op P°Pu!ar attractl0n> were the oh- tion imposed, no censure of self exacted; and what is in-
not onlv fPerSeCUtl“n’ ^i18 thf m°re re™arkable» as veterate in their own minds passes with men for the old-
as^er experienced such persecution, but his ness of truth and nature. A reformer, therefore is nl-
immec la e isciple, Aristotle, was forced to fly from Athens ways an object of aversion ; and no reform is successfiiilv
o escape the storm with which he was threatened. Coming accomplished, until it has worked its way by subduing the
between these two, and enjoying, at the height of his po- prejudices which it has to encounter a^ the outset. g Not
«4AtUheUScripSre?Bi<' ^ ^ ^ Chapter is taken UP in Eusebius’ ^aratio Evangelica, in shewing the agreement of Plato
* "yol. xyn. *” Vlta Plat 18‘ " '0,jV h G, ^ K. T. A. Phxdo, p. 159 ; Apol. p. 44 ; Polit. p. 92, et alib.
5 H
794
PLATO.
ixone out uiuse ui uic iiigucou uiuci ^    . o ^ J ^ , i i * , r. . . i
gifts are fully susceptible of its influence; but then these cunning and cruelty engendered by mutual distrust; and
are the very cases, he observes, which are also capable of the wanton contempt of all law and religion, prompted by
the most mischief, through their greater susceptibility of the sight of the calamities which the tempests of social life
the seductions of the world. There cannot but be objec- scatter indiscriminately on the good and the evil. On this
tions against philosophy, he further observes, as long as stock of corruption, speculative irreligion, and speculative
the mass of mankind is, as it is found, incapable of appre- immorality, had also grown up as its natural offshoots. Men
dating real essential good for its own sake ; and as long as were found hardening themselves against the reproaches of
those of superior nature, who should be its devoted friends, conscience and the fear of retribution, by arguing against
and examples of its influence, are drawn away from it in the fundamental truths of religion and morals. In religion,
pursuit of popular opinion. He endeavours, accordingly, to it was contended that there were no Gods; or that if the
evince that there is no just ground for alarm, at least in those existence of a divine powTer were conceded, there was no
days, at the power of philosophy. It was now deserted Providence over human affairs ; or, lastly, that if there were
and helpless, fallen amongst those who were not its own a Providence, the wrath of the offended Deity was placable
people. If disgrace now attached to philosophy, it must be by the prayers and sacrifices of the offender. In morals,
imputed to the unworthy alliance into which it had been the question was debated, whether all was not mere mat-
forced. The mean artisan, who has made his fortune, ter of institution and convention, and the device of the
now quits his prison, and decks himself out, and aspires to weak against the stronger power; and whether right might
the hand of the daughter of his master in her poverty and not change with the opinions of men.
destitution.2 It was no wonder, therefore, that such spu- This state of things had produced and fostered a spuri-
rious fruits, of so unsuitable alliance, were then seen in ous race of philosophers, familiarly known by the name of
the world, and that the few who clung to the true profes- the Sophists ; a name, not at first implying that disrespect,
sion were like strangers in the world, living away from by which it afterwards characterized the pretensions of
public affairs, as unwilling to join in the general iniquity, those to whom it was given. For the Sophists evidently
and unable to resist it effectually by their single strength.3 were not the primary corruptors of the public mind in
If Plato thought it necessary thus to apologize for the Greece, but themselves the offspring of that moral chaos,
pursuit of philosophy, it is clear that there was yet reason which resulted from the internal disorders of the country;
to apprehend an outbreak of violence against its professors, and which they sustained, as its own children paying the re¬
in fact, however, he appears not only to have escaped all compense of their nurture to their genuine parent. They
such outrage, but, whilst he propagated, by his oral teach- were an evidence of the corruption having reached the
ing and his writings, a system of doctrines directly contrary higher classes of society : for their instructions were sought
to the impure morality and superstition established around by those who could pay for them, and who desired to qua-
him, to have enjoyed an esteem beyond that which any lify themselves for office and power in the state. Going
other teacher on the same ground ever obtained. about from place to place, and domesticating themselves
The explanation of this is in a great measure to be sought wherever they could obtain a reception, they undertook to
in the circumstances under which his philosophy was form- render all that flocked to them adepts in the arts of go-
ed and matured, and to which it was peculiarly adapted. vernment, and even in virtue. The pretension would have
Wfiat Themistocles admitted truly of himself when he been absurd and extravagant, but for the prevailing loose-
answered, that he should not have achieved his glorious ness of opinion on moral subjects.5 But when right was
■fl fiazagn, m S’i'yw, jttx rravu ouru ruv vroXXuv aXX' aint.v erni'bnVnt.v Wtiturdv. iv rt.utrnte u.vt /ft; 3k/iucjvaki Xw m v.rt.i n «r>t). nm
PLATO.
Plaio’s
Writings
and Philo¬
sophy.
understood as nothing more than what happened to be in¬
stituted and in fashion, there was an opening to every un¬
principled teacher to adapt his moral lessons to the varied
s requirements of each distinct society.1
At no place were these universal teachers more cordial¬
ly received than at Athens. The anxiety with which an ex¬
pected visit from any one of greater note among them was
expected at Athens, and the zeal with which the young
hastened to see and hear the wise man on his arrival, are
depicted in lively colours by Plato. At Athens, evidently,
if anywhere, the Sophist felt himself at his proper home.
There was his readiest market. Herodotus may justly have
been surprised at the success of so vulgar a deception at
Athens, the seat of literature, as that practised by Pisistra-
tus, when he exhibited to the people a woman of great sta¬
ture, arrayed in full armour, and pompously borne in a cha¬
riot into the city, as the goddess Minerva, reinstating him
in her own citadel.2 It would have been still stranger if
these impersonations of Athenian wisdom had not suc¬
ceeded in imposing on the understanding of Athenians.
For their minds were in that fluctuating state which dis¬
posed them to receive every various form of impression
from any plausible teacher. Their general cultivation of
mind, and taste for literature, prepared them for listen¬
ing with pleasure to exhibitions of rhetorical and dialec¬
tical skill, such as the Sophists gave. And from admi¬
ration of the skill thus displayed, the transition was natural
to consider that as the only wisdom, which was capable of
maintaining both sides of a question with equal plausibility,
and that the only virtue, which could shift and accommo¬
date itself to every expedient with equal satisfaction.
Yet the Athenian was not entirely the creature of those
circumstances, which had so considerably modified his cha¬
racter. He yet retained some traces of that high feeling
so beautifully touched by his own tragic poet, when that poet
speaks of “ the pious Athens,” and appeals to the ancient
associations of religion which consecrated the land. Reli¬
gion indeed had acquired the name of superstition, or the
fear of supernatural powers, buffidctifioviu; but even this marks
that there were some who cherished, though in that degene¬
rate form, a veneration for the truths of the Divine Being,
and the Divine agency in the world. Nor was the Athe¬
nian ever insensible to his pride of birth, and rank among
those of the Grecian name.3 He dwelt on the recollections
of a remote antiquity of origin, as distinguishing him among
the members of the Greek family. He claimed to be the
offspiing of the Attic soil, ai/ro^^wv, whilst others were de¬
scended from successive immigrations of strangers. Amidst
his fickleness, and susceptibility of every passing impulse,
he yet felt himself strongly influenced by his veneration for
the past, and loved to connect himself with the ancient glo¬
ries of his country. In the Athenian character, accordingly,
may be observed the union of extremes; devoutness of deep
inward feeling, accompanied with superficial irreligion and
profane dissoluteness of morals ; a mercurial temperament,
ever eager for change, floating like a light cloud over a
deep-rooted reverence of antiquity, and the traditions of
ancestral wisdom and virtue.
Now, on accurately studying the writings of Plato, we
find them, both, a reflexion of this state of the public mind
at Athens, and a corrective of it. Full of imagination and
of severe subtile thought, they are formed to attract and fix
the attention of the literary Athenian. Bringing the So¬
phist on the scene, and giving sketches of the social life of
Athens, and making conversation the vehicle of his instruc-
795
sophy.
tions, 1 lato in a manner transferred to his own teaching, Plato’s
what was every day witnessed at Athens in the professorial 1Vritines
exhibitions of the Sophists themselves. His philosophy, a and Phil0"
counterpart, in its way, to the drama of the comic poet, in-v
structed the people, at once, through their wisdom and their
folly. As Aristophanes spoke to them under the mask of
folly, and gave utterance to lessons of severe wisdom un¬
der that mask; so Plato, on the other hand, put on the
mask of the sage, and in grave irony ridiculed and exposed
the light-hearted folly of his countrymen. Both were wiser
than they seemed to the outward observation ; as was in¬
deed the volatile Athenian, to whom they addressed their
counsel. Both presupposed that delicacy of perception and
quick tact in their fellow-citizens, which would be flattered
by such indirect modes of address, and would, at the same
time, appreciate the jest of the one, and the irony of the
other. Both speak with the freedom of the democratic spi¬
rit. But the counsel of Aristophanes is that of the privi¬
leged jester of the sovereign-people amidst festal scenes
and the enthusiasm of mirth; whilst Plato appeals to the
Athenian at the moment of quiet, serious reflection on the
surrounding folly, and treats him as a contemplative specta¬
tor, rather than himself an actor in it.
Before the time of Plato, there were no philosophical
writings which answered the requisitions of the Athenian
mind. There were poems of the early philosophers. There
were didactic writings of the later Pythagoreans, and even
dialogues discussing speculative questions. Anaxagoras, too,
whose name was well known at Athens, had published a
treatise of philosophy.4 But none of these, if they were
even accessible to the Athenian, were calculated to attract
his attention. The philosophical poems differed nothing
from prose but in the metre, and were exceedingly dry and
uninviting to the general reader. The books of Pythago¬
reans were very few, at least at this time, and hardly known
to any but the devoted student of philosophy.5 Nor would
the dialogues of Zeno or Euclid, concerned about mere lo¬
gical subtilties, or the physical discussions of Anaxagoras,
possess any charm for the lively Athenian. Even afterwards,
the instructive writings of Aristotle did not obtain that re¬
ception which could save them from a temporary oblivion.
But the dialogues of Plato supplied exactly what was yet
wanting in this department of Athenian literature. They
were the proper development of the philosophical element in
the genius of the people. The shrewd practical talent of the
Athenians had been strikingly exhibited in the successful
achievements of their great generals and statesmen, and in
the lead of Athens itself amongst the states of Greece at the
close of the Persian war. Their taste in arts, and poetry,
and general literature, had put forth splendid fruits in the
works of Athenian artists, Athenian masters of the drama,
and of history. But their genius for abstract speculation
as yet had nothing which it could claim as strictly its own.
Socrates indeed laid the basis for such a work. During the
half century preceding the appearance of Plato as the lead¬
er of a school of philosophy, Socrates had been engaged as
a missionary of philosophy, awakening the curiosity of men;
turning their thoughts to reflection on themselves, as crea¬
tures endued with moral and intellectual faculties; and in¬
spiring them with longings after some information on ques¬
tions relating to their own nature, and a taste for discus¬
sions addressed to the resolution of such questions. Plato
succeeded him, and carried the philosophical spirit, now
fully called into action, to its result. His works according¬
ly display this spirit at its maturity; exemplifying at the
3 SZffen°,^P’ 3l1-38°! The,t- P 127 ’ S°Ph- PP- 232-234. * Herodot. Clio, 60.
i la. vi. ; ASwaios uv ttcL^cLKmoo, shews in a few words the Athenian estimation of themselves.
^ ^aertius says that Anaxagoras was the first to publish such a treatise. In Vit Anax. vih.
t £Halic™“s he commend, the reading „f the*,
flat o.
796.
Plato’s game time that peculiar combination of qualities which
Writings formed the Athenian character. Thus are they at once
and Philo- ser;ous an(j lively, abstract and imaginative ; full of deep
, sophy' . thought and feeling intermingled with gaiety and humour ;
’~V instinctive with the awe of religion and ancient wisdom,
whilst they present also an image of Athenian versatility, and
frivolity, and love of change. They convey indeed a strong
rebuke of the vices of the times. They draw, in no softened
colouring, outlines of the evil and misery resulting from the
profligacy of existing governments, and the excesses of in-
dividual cupidity; the two great causes assigned by Plato
for the prevailing evil of his times. But these lessons wei e
calculated rather to interest the hearer or reader by tbeir
faithful representation of manners, than to alienate him, as
we might at first think, by the justness of the censuie.
Athenians would give their attention to such descriptions,
as they did to the invectives of their orators,1 acknowledg¬
ing the general truth of the representation ; and each, at
the same time, taking no offence at what he applied to
others, and to every one rather than to himself. Philoso¬
phy too, taught, as by Plato, colloquially, was such as pe¬
culiarly to suit the taste of the Athenian, whose life was in
the agora, or the ecclesia, or the courts of law ; and who re¬
garded the interchange of words as no unimportant ingre¬
dient in everything that he had to do.9 Such conversa¬
tion, too, as that of Plato’s Dialogues, elegant conversation,
steeped in the well-spring of Grecian literature, and ex¬
pressed in language such as Jove, it was said, might use,
and adorned with the charms of an exquisite musical rhvthm,
could not but be highly attractive to Athenian ears. We may
see, accordingly, in these circumstances, at once, an occa¬
sion for the existence of such writings as those of Plato,
and a reason of the peculiar mould in which they were
cast, as well as of the success which attended them.
Not only, however, was the general character of his phi¬
losophy, as viewed in connection with the writings which
convey it, derived from such influences; but the internal
structure of it was the natural result of the peculiar educa¬
tion of such a mind as his, under the circumstances to
which we have referred. His philosophy was essentially
dialectical or colloquial; an examination and discussion of
systems,and doctrines,and opinions. According to hisnotion,
the true philosopher is the dialectician; the investigator, who
has fought his way, step by step, through every argument
capable of being adduced in support of, or against, a parti¬
cular opinion, refuting those that are unsound, until at
length he has found rest in some position that cannot be
shaken.3 Hence he is the disciple of no particular system
of philosophy, whilst he brings all systems under his survey,
and compels all to pay a tribute to his stock of truth, by
discussing them, and rejecting in them what will not abide
the test of examination. We have seen that he was en¬
gaged in studying the doctrines of Heraclitus, and of the
Pythagoreans, and of the other schools, whilst he was also
a hearer of Socrates. He had thus begun in early life to
analyse different systems by the searching method of So¬
crates ; and his mature philosophy was only the same pro¬
ceeding more deeply imbibed in his own mind, more ex¬
tensively carried on, and more vigorously applied. So far,
indeed, does the colloquial spirit predominate over his phi¬
losophy, so entirely dialectical is it in its whole internal
character, that it leaves on the mind of the reader more an
impression of a series of discussions, in order to the deter¬
mination of the questions considered, than the conviction
of any thing positively determined. Hence it is that Ci¬
cero, speaking of Plato’s writings, says, that “ in them no- Plato’s
thing is affirmed; and much is discoursed on both sides; Wn*“l&8
everything is inquired into; nothing certain is said.”4 So also ans^ , lo*
Sextus Empiricus raises the question, in what respect the v ^ y L -
philosophy of Plato differs from that of the Sceptics.5 And
again his doctrines have been characterized as brilliant
clouds, which we seem at the point of grasping, w hen they
vanish from our hands. This effect is doubtless partly to
be ascribed to the disguise of his irony ; to the artist-de¬
sign which presides over his whole instruction. But it is
also the proper effect of that dialectical philosophy which
is worked out in the Dialogues. Whilst he is a consummate
artist throughout, he is also illustrating the lessons which he
had learnt from Socrates, by bringing false opinions to the
test of discussion, and leaving truth, for the most part, to
be collected from refutation of error, rather than positively
enunciating it, or exactly defining it.
For when we come to examine his philosophy more
closely, we find, that it begins and ends, like the lessons of
Socrates, with a confession of the ignorance of man. So¬
crates had led him to perceive how much was taken for
granted in the popular opinions and systems of philosophy ;
how even those who had a reputation for wisdom and ta¬
lents took up principles which they had never examined, and
which they could not satisfactorily account for, or defend,
when pressed in argument. Imbibing, accordingly, the spirit
of the Socratic method, he did not endeavour to teach, in the
proper sense of the term, so much as to explore and test
the minds of men ; to ascertain, how far they really under¬
stood the doctrines and opinions which they professed.
The fundamental error of the Sophists was, that they as¬
sumed all current opinions to be true. They did not think
it necessary to examine this preliminary; whether the opi¬
nions on which they built their fabric of knowledge wa re
true or false. It was enough for them, that certain opinions
were actually held ; and to these, as given principles, they
directed their whole system of teaching. Their teaching,
accordingly, was entirely Trgoj do^av, relative to opinion ; and
it must, consequently, stand, or fall, as existing opinions
could be maintained or impugned. Now, with Plato, as
with Socrates, the investigation of this preliminary point
(that is, whether existing opinions are true or no), is every¬
thing. The presumption that they are true, is what he will
by no means admit. He demands a positive evidence of
them. And as the presumption of their truth is a bar to all
inquiry concerning them, he commences with the opposite
presumption of their falsehood, or at least a confession on
the part of the inquirer, that as yet,—until he has investigat¬
ed,—he does not know the truth of his opinions.
For the same reason, he avoids all dogmatism in his con¬
clusions. Those might aspire to communicate the know¬
ledge of new truth to the mind, who, as the Sophists did, as¬
sumed that knowledge was entirely subjective ; or who held
that any opinion which could be produced in the mind, was
simply true, w as really known, because it was there. But as
Plato denied the truth of Opinion, if it had no other evi¬
dence, but that of its mere presence in the mind ; so, neither
would he concede that any process of the mind in itself, or
any argumentative and persuasive instructions, could pro¬
duce, by their own force, a conviction of truth in the mind.
In other words, he required the student of philosophy, not
only to begin, but to end, w ith a confession of the ignorance
of man.
We have an apt illustration of this in the dialogue en¬
titled the First Alcibiades. There Socrates is introduced,
* Thucyd. in 38 ; Demosth. passim.
'O iii 'rff^'°'Y0VS ri“s /3Xa£,jv nyoufcivoi, aXXa. ‘r^ollhct^^va.i p.a.'KXo't Xoytu T^ottoov, n str/ a Si? loyu ix3i7», *. r. X. (Thucyd. ii. 40 ;
X.. 5T£| iv [Aaxy Jj® Ta.vrav tXiyxuv'Sist'ituv, x. r. X. (Rep. vii. p. 167-)
Sex. Lmp. Pyr. Hyp. i. 33 ; Diog. Laert. in Vit. Plat. 33.
4 Cic. Acad. Quiest. i. 12.
PLATO.
Fiato’s questioning Alcibiades concerning his plans of life, and
andPhifo- s^ew^nS ^owentirely he had presumed on his knowledge of
i * matfprs wifL wl-nrTi   i  ^-i _
797
sophy.
matters with which he was unacquainted ; and that until he
could be brought to feel and confess his ignorance, there
was no possibility of his being able to direct himself or
others aright.
In the Meno, the same is illustrated by the comparison of
the effect of the searching questions of Socrates, on the
mind of the person submitted to them, to that of the torpe¬
do. Meno says, he had thousands of times, and to many a
person, and with much credit to himself, as he thought,
spoken on the subject of virtue; but on conversing with
Socrates, he was quite at a loss now to say even what vir¬
tue was.
To the same purport is the general application by So-
ciates in the Apologia, of the oracle which pronounced him
the wisest of men. The oracle, he observes, had only used
his name by way of example, as if it had said, “ He, O
men ! is the wisest of you, whoever, like Socrates, is con¬
vinced, that he is in truth worthless in respect of wisdom.”1
The method of Plato, accordingly, is the reverse of di¬
dactic. The Sophists could employ a didactic method ; be¬
cause they assumed principles as true, from which they might
proceed to argue and persuade. But this was precluded to
Plato, assuming, as he did, that all opinions demanded a pre¬
vious examination. It was necessary for him to extort a
confession of ignorance, to make men sensible of the diffi¬
culties belonging to a subject. It only remained, therefore,
for him to proceed by Interrogation. In a colloquial philoso¬
phy, Interrogation is what experiment is in physical inquiry.
It is the mode of discovering what the real state of a per¬
son’s mind is, in regard to the opinions which he professes.
The whole art of Socrates consisted in putting questions to
the person with whom he conversed, so that an answer bear¬
ing on the point in debate might be elicited ; that the
grounds on which a given opinion was held might fully ap¬
pear ; and the person’s own answers might open his mind to
see it in its proper light. This method Plato has followed
out in the interrogatory of his Dialogues. Under such a
method of philosophy, the answerer is brought to teach him¬
self. The lesson thus given by the philosopher, consists
w holly in the questions which he puts. He preserves, from
first to last, the simple character of the inquirer; and he
pronounces only so far as he approves or rejects the answer
given.
The popular opponents of this method called it a method
of producing doubt; and regarded it as dangerous to the
principles of the young. Plato carefully obviates such a
misrepresentation of his proceeding, and guards his method
from being confounded with that of the Sophists. The So¬
phists taught the art of exciting doubts on every subject; a
mere effort of gladiatorial skill. They professed to make
men apt to cavil and dispute on any given subject.2 All
principles, according to them, were equally stable; all were
equally open to be impugned. They, therefore, did not
care how they unsettled the minds of men, if their skill
could only find materials on which to exercise itself. In
Plato’s hands, however, the awakening of doubt has for its
object, to remove the unstable ground on which opinions
may happen to be rested, and to lead to more settled con¬
victions. With him it is exalted into a regular discip¬
line of the mind. With the Sophists, it was perverted to
strengthen that universal scepticism in which their whole
teaching was based. So strictly does Plato confine the ap¬
plication of his method to the single purpose of investigat¬
ing the truth, that he strongly objects to the use of it as a Plato’s
mere exercise of ingenuity; lest the young, led on by tKe Writings
pleasure of refuting and perplexing others, should think at and Phil°'
last, that there were no real distinctions of right and wrong.. sophy-
Plato seems the more anxious to distinguish his method ^ Y~"~’
o inquiry from that of the Sophists, as his method did in
some measure resemble theirs. It was inquisitive on every
subject, as theirs was. It did superficially appear to be no-
t mg but questioning, and doubting, and cavilling. It did
appeal to the reason of every man, and oblige him to see
how he could defend his opinions. And on this very ground
Socrates had been attacked: for he was accused of cor-
rupting the young, by making them “doubt,” airoge/v mtmwa?
Plato fully admits that this practice, as pursued by the So¬
phists, was dangerous to the principles of the young. In
fact, he observes it would be even better to suffer them to
remainunder the guidance of some principles, which, though
not true, served as restraints on their passions, than to re¬
move everything from their minds, and leave no check what¬
ever to licentious indulgence. By a beautiful illustration, he
compares the effect produced by the sophistical method, to
the case of a child brought up amidst wealth, and luxury, and
high connections, and the society of flatterers, but in igno¬
rance as to his real parentage. Suppose, he observes, such a
person to come to know that those, whom he has hitherto be¬
lieved to be his parents, are not so, and at the same time not
to know who his real parents are. It is clear, that whilst in
his state of ignorance concerning his supposed parents, he
would respect and attend to them more than to his flatterers;
but on finding out his mistake, unless he were of a superior
character, such as is rarely met with, he would attend to his
flatterers more than to those, wnom he once supposed to be
his parents. So would it be, then, he shews, with one who
should find out that the popular principles of morals in which
he had been trained, were not the truth, without arriving, at
the same time, at the real truth. He would no longer be
controlled by those moral principles of which he had dis¬
covered the falsehood ; but having nothing to substitute in
their place, he would give way afterwards, without reserve,
to the seductions of pleasures, the flatterers, whose blandish¬
ments he had before in some measure resisted.4 In opposi¬
tion to such a system of cavilling, Plato holds an even course
between the scepticism which merely doubts about every¬
thing, and the dogmatism which pronounces on everything
without examination.
The method by w hich he accomplishes his object, carried
out to the fulness of a regular system and discipline of the
mind, is, what he calls by a term conveying to a Greek ear
its colloquial origin and application, dialectic. As con¬
trasted with the spurious method of the Sophists, or the
method of contradicting on every subject, and involving
the mind in endless perplexity, it was the true art of Dis¬
cussion. As contrasted with the mere wisdom of opinion,
do^offotpia, which the Sophists inculcated, it was philosophy,
real science, or knowledge of the truth. The method of
his philosophy, and his philosophy itself, thus run up into
one, and coincide under the common name of Dialectic.5
To trace the manner in which this coincidence w^as effect¬
ed, will lead us to a perception of the true character of Pla¬
to’s philosophy, as a system mediating between the dogma¬
tism of the sciolist on the one hand, and the scepticism of
the disputant on the other.
The hypothesis, we observe, on which he founded the
whole of his proceeding, was the fallaciousness of Opinion ;
the Sophists, on the contrary, assuming the truth of Opinion
ov^svos cc^/og urn. cr, ccXyiQtiai, [Avo-
lo<r 0tJTCe trotyururoi iffTiv, orris, urcrso Suix^arvs, lyvuxzv,
^ Rep vii. p. 177- > 9 Apolog. p. 54; Gorg. p. 162; Meno, p. 347 ? Polit. ; Conv. < Rep. vii. pn. 174-176
^ T' ^ (S°Ph- P 275.) 'O p.iv woorr,*"
798 TLA
Plato’s universally. Whilst to the Sophists every opinion served
Writings as a ground of argument, and for them there was no need
and Philo- t0 bey0n(j the apparent; it was necessary for Plato, to
- y'_ , seek for some Criterion of Truth out of the region of mere
Opinion. Commencing with denying the sufficiency of what
metaphysicians call Subjective truth, or the assumption that
whatever is perceived by the mind is true, because it is so
perceived; he had to search after Objective truth, truth in¬
dependent of the mind of man, and exempt from the contin¬
gencies and variations of human judgment, as a foundation
of his system of knowledge.
The hypothesis, accordingly, of the fallaciousness of Opi¬
nion from which his Method set out, involved a correspond¬
ing hypothesis in philosophy of the fallaciousness of the
senses. It is the joint application of these two fundamental
principles that combines his Method and his Philosophy in
one master-science of dialectic. Opinion, according to
him, is the kind of knowledge derived from the information
of the senses, and is therefore no proper knowledge at all,
but mere belief or persuasion, mgrig ; whereas true know¬
ledge is founded on that which is purely apprehended by the
intellect, without any intervention whatever of the senses.
Dialectic, as it is Philosophy, is conversant about that which
is, or which has being, as contrasted with presentations to
the senses, which have only the semblance of Being ; as it
is a Method, it investigates the reason, or account of the
Being of everything;—the account of everything as it is,
and not as it appears ; not being satisfied, like its sophisti¬
cal counterpart, with opinions of which no account can be
given, but bringing all to the test of exact argument and de¬
finition.
In order, therefore, to give his Method a firm basis, and
his Philosophy a distinct object, it was required, that he
should establish a sound theory of Being, or, in other words,
a sure Criterion of Truth. Such, then, was his celebrated
Theory of Ideas.
There are four distinct views embraced in this theory as
it is developed by Plato; four phases, as it were, under
which it is presented.
I. The first, and most strictly Platonic view of it, accord¬
ing to what we have already stated, is in its connection with
logical science. None of the great philosophers before Pla¬
to ; none, that is, of those who had speculated on the uni¬
verse at large, as Thales, Pythagoras, Heraclitus, Parme¬
nides, Anaxagoras, were conversant with logical science.
Zeno the Eleatic, and Euclid of Megara, were known in¬
deed as dialecticians. But the kind of logical science which
they professed, was a rude and imperfect art, consisting
chiefly in the knowledge and use of particular fallacies, and
not founded in any deep study of the nature of thought and
reasoning. They were, besides, mere dialecticians, rather
than philosophers in the most extended sense of the term.
Plato’s mind, however, while it was engaged in logical stu¬
dies, was also no less intent on the investigation of the first
principles of all things. And, as has been often observed
in other cases, the favourite study of his mind gave its com¬
plexion to his theory of first principles, or doctrine of Ideas.
The term “ Idea” does not indeed convey to the under¬
standing of a modern any notion of a connection of the theory
with logical science. In our acceptation, it belongs exclu¬
sively to metaphysics. But in Plato’s view there was no
separation oi the two branches of logic and metaphysics.
Both were closely united in the one science to which he gave
the name of Dialectic, and which was accordingly at once
a science of the internal reason,—that is, of the processes of
the mind in its silent speculation on things ; and of the ex¬
ternal reason,—that is, of the processes of the mind in com¬
municating its speculations to others in words. The terms,
therefore, belonging to the one process, are indiscriminately
T O.
applied to the other. Thus, to “ give a reason” of the be- Plato’s
ing of a thing, dibovai Xo/ov r5js ovdiug, was equivalent to a Writings
scientific view of it; and the word 'koyog denoted at once and ".“y0'
the terms of language by which that reason was expressed, v '
and the reason itself as it existed in the mind. Thus, too,
the word ideal, or ideas, was only a little varied from the
logical term e'dri, or species, which indeed is sometimes sub¬
stituted for it in the phraseology of Plato. The simplicity,
accordingly, and invariableness, and universality, which be¬
long to terms denoting the agreement of a variety of ob¬
jects in certain characteristics, were transferred to supposed
counterparts in the mind itself, or to the notions represent¬
ed by the terms which are the name ot the species. Hence
the idea, or eidos, was conceived to be, rot simply a result
of a process of the mind, but something in the mind, and
as having a being independent of the mind itself. As the
species expressed in words was universal, so its counterjiart
in the mind was the universal nature in which the indivi¬
duals to which it referred, participated. In that, the mind,
perplexed by the variety and anomaly of individual objects,
found an invariable sameness. In the contemplation of it,
the mind no longer wavered and doubted, but obtained a
fixedness of view. The idea, or species, therefore, was to
be explored and reached in order to a just theory of every¬
thing, and was in itself that theory.
Further, as there is a relative classification of objects by
means of words ; some standing for characteristics common
to a greater number of objects, whilst others stand for cha¬
racteristics of only some out of that number ; this property
of words was in like manner conceived to have its counter¬
part in the mind. A graduated series of species was sup¬
posed to exist, first in the mind, and then independent ot
the mind, by means of which, as by steps, the mind might
rise to the highest species, the ultimate idea itself, in which
all others were comprehended. And hence there was no
real perfect science but that which penetrated to this ulti¬
mate nature or being ; and all other ideas, or theories, were
truly scientific only as they participated in this.
This notion of “ participation” of the ideas, was a still
further application of logical language to the business of
philosophy in general. For, as the several particulars be¬
longing to a species all possess those characteristics which
constitute their species, as well as those which connect them
with a higher species or genus of which they are the spe¬
cies, their logical description is made up of an enumera¬
tion of those characteristics, together with the name of the
higher class or genus under which the whole species is in¬
cluded. The higher class is an ingredient in the specifica¬
tion of a lower ; or, conversely, a lower class participates in
a higher. So Plato considered everything in the universe,
as being what it is, by a “ participation” of the Ideas ; and
consequently, that to explore its nature we must ascertain
the idea which thus constitutes it. The Pythagoreans be¬
fore him spoke of things as existing by “ assimilation” to the
essential being. Plato’s logical views occasioned this change
of phraseology; for he varied only the term, as Aristotle
observes, whilst he followed the Pythagoreans as masters
in the fundamental conception of his theory.1 Aristotle, in¬
deed, whilst he assigns the logical studies of Plato as the
occasion of the form of the ideal theory, more particularly
accounts for the theory, from Plato’s observation of the im¬
portance of Definitions in the ethical discussions of Socrates.
Plato found how effectual an instrument Definition had been
in the hands of Socrates in silencing the impertinencies of
false opinion on moral subjects. As it had brought moral
questions to an issue, so it might be applied, he thought,
generally, as a stay to the extravagancies of opinion on all
subjects whatever. Accordingly he had only to generalize
the principle of definitions, and the result was the theory of
* Axistot. Metaph. i. G.
PLATO.
799
Plato’s Ideas, or the universal science of reasons, and the ultimate
in'd'p'hUo criter‘on of a!1 truth.
sophy. To understand, however, rightly how Plato was led by
i J -IL y logical considerations to his theory of Ideas, we should ob¬
serve more particularly what his view was of the nature of
logic. We should greatly misapprehend him if we sup¬
posed that he had that notion of the science which has pre¬
vailed since the systematic exposition of it by Aristotle.
As it was conceived by Plato, it answered strictly to its ori¬
ginal name of Dialectic, rather than to that of Logic ; being
the art of discussion, or the art of drawing forth the truth
from the mind by questioning, rather than the art of de¬
ducing consequences from given principles. It was a higher,
more comprehensive science, than the art of Deduction. For
it was conversant about the discovery and establishment of
principles ; whereas the logical science which is employed
about Deduction, assumes the principles in order to specu¬
late about their consequences. It left the latter inquiry to
be pursued by subsequent research, whilst the more ambi¬
tious flight of those who first speculated on the nature of
Discourse was directed to the discovery of truth. In Plato’s
hands it was an energetic reform of the quibbling shallow
logic, which was as yet known and practised in the schools.
This logic had no concern for truth, but only for victory
and display. It consisted in a skill of wielding certain so¬
phisms, known by familiar names in the schools, and found¬
ed on the equivocations of words. An appearance of truth
being all that it aimed at, it did not exact of the student
any consideration of the nature of things. It was enough
that he could give the word reason, the mere logos, the
symbol or counter. He was not taught to go beyond this
legerdemain of language, or to search out the reason of the
being of things, and correct the paralogisms involved in the
use of words, by reference to the realities represented by
them. This sophistical method affected indeed to be a di¬
dactic art; to instruct and furnish the mind with principles
applicable to every subject of discussion. It considered,
forsooth, language as an universal science of nature already
constructed ; and, proceeding on this supposition, professed
to enable the student to apply the wisdom already embo¬
died in language, to the purpose of appearing wise himself,
and imparting to others the same apparent wisdom. But
going no further than this, it ended in mere do%a, mere
opinion. It produced, that is, in the result, only a waver¬
ing state of mind, subject to be changed by every new im¬
pression of opposite arguments, and, after all, imparted no
steady knowledge.
It was a great reform, then, which Plato undertook, in
following up the example proposed in the conversations of
Socrates, and instituting a proper science of Dialectic, a
science of the reason of the being of things. It was a
change from an empirical system, a vain art of words, to a
scientific method or investigation of the reasons themselves,
on which an instructive use of words must be founded.
For, we must observe, it was still a science of words which
he teaches as the true Logic or Dialectic. It had throughout
a reference to discussion. Still it was a real science as com¬
pared with the verbal and technical logic of his predecessors.
Though it was a science of words, it had for its object the
determination of such words as should fully correspond to
their intention as symbols, in characterizing and denoting the
proper being of the thing signified. These reasons of the
being of things, the Aoyoi r^s oucrta?, were the Ideas.
His logical metnod, accordingly, was an analytical, induc¬
tive method. Setting out on the assumption of the erro¬
neousness of opinion as such, it examines hypothesis after
hypothesis on each subject proposed for discussion, reject-
, mg and excluding, as it proceeds, everything irrelevant.
The scrutiny instituted consists in searching for the grounds Plato’s
of contradiction with regard to each opinion, and shewing Writings
that opposite views on point after point in the matter dis- and
cussed, are at least as tenable as the assumptions contained v s°pky.
in the given opinion or hypothesis. Hence it consists al- v ^ ^
most entirely of refutation, or what both he and Aristotle
denominate elenchus, a process of reasoning by which the
contradictory of a given conclusion is inferred.
A method of this kind was calculated fully to put to the
test every unsound opinion. It collected everything that
could be said either for or against a given opinion. It made
the maintainer of it state on what grounds he maintained
it, what consequences followed from it; and either forced
him to self-contradiction in his defence of it, or obliged him
to modify it according to the requisitions of the argument.
And the result was, that whatever stood its ground after this
complete sifting of the question, might be regarded as stable
truth. When refutation had done its utmost, and all the
points of difficulty and objection had been fully brought out,
the dialectical process had accomplished its purpose; and the
affirmative which remained after this discussion might be
regarded as setting forth the truth of the question under
consideration. For everything connected with it, and yet
not founded in the truth of things, was then removed. And
the result therefore might be accepted as a simple truth of
being, an object which the eye of the intellect might stea¬
dily contemplate, and therefore matter of Science.
The process throughout corresponds with the process of
investigation in modern philosophy. Only we must con¬
ceive the dialectical investigation of Plato as nothing more
than an admirable scheme for clearing a question of every¬
thing foreign to it; whilst the latter draws out the true law of
nature from the promiscuous assemblage of phenomena under
which it is presented to observation, and lies concealed
until analysis has done its work on the mass. The nomen¬
clature of the two methods varies accordingly. Argument
is the instrument of the former; experiment that of the
latter. Refutation is the primary business of the former ;
rejection and exclusion of irrelevant phenomena that of the
latter. Definitions of words, as they are signs of the being
of things, are the result of the former; whilst the latter de¬
velops laws of nature.
Both processes are carried on by Interrogation. But
whereas the analysis which investigates a law of nature pro¬
ceeds by interrogation of nature, the analysis of Plato’s dia¬
lectic proceeds by interrogation of the mind, in order to
discover the true being or “ idea” of the thing discussed.
Therefore it was that Socrates called his art, in his own
playful manner, {jbcotu/jjot, a kind of midwifery j1 a delivering of
the mind of the notions with which it was pregnant. Thus
the dialectic of Plato, being entirely directed to observa¬
tion on the mind, and not to external nature, takes the state
of knowledge as it exists in the mind for the ground of its
proceeding. It deals with things; that is, as they exist in
the forms of thought; going, as Plato says, “ from species
to species, until it arrives at the principle of all things,”2
and following throughout the steps by which the mind ad¬
vances in obtaining an exact view of any object of its con¬
templation. It is, in fact, the true thought spoken out.
The process of thinking by which it is attained, is the dia¬
lectical process of interrogation. The decision of the mind
when its conviction is settled, is the dialectical conclusion.3
The chief logical instrument employed in this method is
Division. The being able to divide according to genera,
and not to consider the same species as different, nor a dif¬
ferent one as the same, is stated to belong especially to dia¬
lectical science.4 In searching out the true definition of
the being of a thing, this portion of the internal process of
1 Theaetct.
2 Rep. vi. p. 124.
3 Th'octet, p. 151.
4 Soph. p. 274.
800
Plato’s
■Writings
and Philo¬
sophy.
PLATO.
the mind would naturally strike the attention. General ideas
being founded on general resemblances of objects, the first
step towards a more distinct idea of an object is to see that
the generalization is complete ; that it neither excludes nor
includes any objects which it ought not to exclude or in¬
clude. The true idea of any object would be that which
characterized every object belonging to the idea, and none
other. The analysis accordingly pursued by Plato is con¬
versant about Division, using the induction of particulars in
subordination to this.1 We find, indeed, a constant use of
Induction by Plato, after the manner of Socrates. But it
is always in reference to the main purpose of determining,
not a general fact, but the dominant Idea in every object
of thought.
At the same time, we may observe, the Dialectic of Plato
is truly a method of investigation, though it does not pene¬
trate to the depth of the modern analysis. It employed de¬
ductive reasonings; but these were not essential parts of
its method; since the whole was a process of ascent to the
theory of the Ideas.
Afterwards, indeed, Dialectic approximated to what is
now commonly understood by Logic. The transition was
first to the consideration of it as a method of drawing out
the probable conclusions deducible from given premises.
This was natural. For in Plato’s method every opinion was
admitted as an hypothesis to be examined, in order to re¬
jecting the falsehood and eliciting the truth that might be
contained in it; and so far his Dialectic might be regarded
as a speculation on probabilities. This transition prepared
the way for a further one, when Dialectic became strictly
the science of Deduction. Attention would be drawn more
and more to the use of words as instruments of reasoning,
when Dialectic was once exalted into the rank of a science.
The progress seems to be this. The science being cul¬
tivated primarily with a view to discussion, the importance
of language in order to reasoning could not fail, from the
first direction of the mind in this channel, to strike the
philosophical observer. The phenomena of sophistical ar¬
gument would suggest the necessity of inquiry into words
as they are employed in reasoning. Philosophers, accord¬
ingly, would be led to examine into the nature of words con¬
sidered as signs and representatives of thought. Thus they
would proceed to arrange words into classes, according to
their import in this respect. Thus would be obtained that
great division of words into those that denote an individual
alone, and those that stand both for many and for one, or
into singular and common;—the fundamental principle of
logic properly so called, or of logic as the science is now
considered. The use of Division and Definition would soon
appear. These processes, indeed, would be naturally dis¬
covered in the very prosecution of discussions addressed to
the refutation of false opinions and popular fallacies. The
early dialectics, accordingly, abounded in the use of them.2
Afterwards, as the analytical power of language came to be
more particularly observed, the connections of words in pro¬
positions and arguments would attract speculation. The
possibility of exhibiting any given proposition or argument
under abstract formulae, in which unmeaning symbols w ere
substituted for the terms themselves of the proposition or
aigument, would at length be discovered. Thus in the re¬
sult would be erected a formal science of logic, in which
language would be considered as an artificial system of signs,
and the validity of argnments would be explored in their
abstract forms, independently of the subject-matter about
which they happen to be conversant.
When Plato, however, drew his Theory of Ideas from the
logical speculations in which his mind was engaged, there
was no such system as that now found in treatises of logic.
There are the materials in the writings of Plato for con¬
structing a method of dialectic, such as the science pre¬
sented itself to his view; but that method remains, even to
this day, to be fully explored and stated. It is clear that
he had such a system, and that his writings proceed on re¬
gular method ; though he has nowhere accurately sketched
it, and perhaps never even proposed it to himself in the
form of a system. His thoughts were engaged in this, as
in other subjects, in giving the great outlines of his philo¬
sophy. It was enough for him to have seized the bearings
of logical truth on all truth ; and to this general view of the
science he has made everything secondary and subser¬
vient.
II. The next aspect under which the Theory of Ideas
should be considered, is that in which it sums up and mea¬
sures the infinites of the sensible world. In this point of
view, it more immediately represented its Pythagorean pro¬
totype, than under its logical aspect. It is in reference to
this intention of the theory that Aristotle objects, that whilst
it professes to give the account of things, it introduces an
additional number of objects in the Ideas themselves; an
absurdity, he observes, like that of attempting to facilitate
a calculation by adding to the numbers to be calculated.3
It was, accordingly, an endeavour to reckon up the indivi¬
duals of the universe, and exhibit their sum in one state¬
ment. As Plato’s logical speculations gave their colour to
his whole philosophy, so the devotion of the Pythagoreans
to mathematics led them to form a mathematical theory of
the universe. The universal nature of Number gave them
the ground for this application of their peculiar studies. For
all things are in number; and there is nothing from which
the notion of number may not be abstracted. That num¬
ber, then, which alone measures all other numbers,—Unity,
—would be regarded as the common measure of all things.
And thus the philosophy of the universe would be reduced
to a system of calculation ; and the infinity of existing things
summed up in definite proportions of numbers. The Greek
w ord logos, whilst it combined in it the notions of “ word”
and “ reason,” also further combined that of “ ratio,” and
reasoning and calculating were expressed by the one term
Xoyi^sn^ai. This marks the connected trains of thought by
which the arithmetical theory of the Pythagoreans was
formed. The effects of this combination of thought are
seen, not only in the fundamental conception of the theory,
but in our ordinary phraseology on the subject of reason¬
ing even at this day; as, for example, in our use of the
word “ Term,”.—that is, “ limit,” or “ boundary,”—for
words, not only in their logical signification, but even in
their familiar use.4
It appears to have struck the mind of Plato that the
theory of the Pythagoreans was not sufficiently compre¬
hensive, or even ultimate, as an account of the Being of
things. The simplicity of Number did not adequately ex¬
plain the great variety of natures found in the universe;
and though the science of Arithmetic held almost the high¬
est place in his scale of knowledge, on account of its ab-
Plato’s
Writings
and Philo¬
sophy.
t rwfilSotov ruvrfiv rip**, roZ xar’ hi* Ivwrov 1LCupw.
tis tv ” £'ya"ys aUT0S Ti rav hcu^.inr,jM kcu ffwayiayuv, ,7 oZaffn w Xsy:
_ . ‘ •Xityvxora. opkv, rovrov Iioik/u, xarovitrOh uiv' iwinv oVtrt
(Polit. p. 66.)
'/>n7v lav rt riva aXXev byrio’ajftai IvvaTav
tis iv ko., l*. ~ <ruv*yUyav, cioars ci Xsyuv ts ypovuv ta, rt nva «aa«v ovw,
srptaayppsup, S-£« <J5£. tou.ov Karopna^s i^vtov uiuts 9-soio- xai f^ivroi xai rrov; Ivvapivovs aura Igav, si /xsv IgSws fl
4i On Divisions,” not now’extant ^‘aXtx'!'‘xovs‘ (.Ph°edr. pp. 362, 363.) Plato appears to have been the author of a work
4 HobbU<u^eslh^^^thewt£!!’^A^aTr^>6', l‘T° ^ rXl,a. ?£ (Aristot. Meiaph. i. 7-)
viathan) i. 4, et alib. ' P iraseo °£y throughout. Reasoning, with him, is “ reckoning,” and words are “ counters.'’ (Le-
plat o.
801
olj
Mdr'phiiLj)Part {m™.tha changeable oljjects of °eTSeThe0stm viewed reTul^oVTe^ncoursIrf ag'em SmS eVt‘ir;v“r5'ifnS w'T’’
though purfr than the1h“"cTsci™cS“Lfg{’hel^meS rioTOthi^'thTrec"itt thl0l'red '
only about abstract magnitudes, is excluded from the high- the eye.* This docS re oted „ 1 T , ‘rnPress,on ">
est place. Geometry, no less than Arithmetic, might seem sation! and (which wa™Quivalmt to ,htTm fgolnt0 T'
to be simply an intellectual contemplation ; since, though it measure of all things,” according to the i nmn the
employs visible figures m its demonstrations, the demon- tion of Protagoras § & e celebxated enuncia-
strations do not properly refer to these, but to the abstract Plato saw that, if these views wpvp orW** i
notions which the diagrams represent. Yet Geometry, as count of the universe his whole di*>wV tte<J an a1c"
it assumes its principles, and its truths consequently depend ground. It would be nothin- but miser t0 ^
on assumptions which in themselves demand evidence, can- to call forth those reasons of thb!s Xch he ^ V?
plrfee?8-^ * sdetlCe ^P^fect intelligence, be in the mind, if knowledge werf of Ids finei0”?1" i t0
Pei feet intelligence, wjjtf/g, implies an absolute stay to racter.5 There could not in fiiet be tL fluctuating cha-
the bought; something beyond which no further inquiry There was nothing shbrnmlin' tl'1;a"yS"C
can be made, which may be seen as it were bv the t g *taDie, nothing that remained in the
eye immediately in itj. And an ^e^only S fur! oninll! “w^idt no8 ,°f tmVn,d &lse
by assigning to it the second place in his scale of knowled-e of sensation mi-bc be 7 IT’ ^ wh ch the phenomena
£ s K.'ssski °"zpr&zsnt
pear. The ideas are the finite, anS to the infinite if thl . n 1 , sophtst.cal extravagancies into which the doc-
sensible world, and thus producing measure and proportion no test if tieiti' Gr?nt'ng> therefore, that tliere was
in the universe.2 The Physical fcteMei as fof ix'i ' if • f . f 0r, fWs*!h°°d ■" the sensations themselves, he
astronomy and music, are not ttuiv Sife hecaise S’ ii"? T ’ the8r0“"d of fallaciousness is in the judg-
dressing themselves to what is passing before’the sensis in" the'iini™'1'Thi iim'”"11 “"“■'".‘"g the impressions of
the world, they do not consider the immovenblc bdr, ^ ‘ ’ ie soul is endued with a common power of
themselves, which are only imperfectly renresented ;n tbo PeJceP i10”’ 77 11C^ rePorts °fl A16 different senses are
observed physical movemeMs P astrXomer eln t " ’ and by means of which the mind is enabled to
the actual velocities of the heavenly bodies- the mi !-U-eS ^aSt an^ Present sensations of the same kind, as
counts the intervals of. sounds But SeVof theT fin \T with one mother. It is in the con¬
tent on the real beings, the Ideas themselves of veWiK t ufoas then fo™ed on these comparisons that we are to
of harmony. We can disLm seek for knowledge; or in the purely mental processes,
mathematical basis of thought. Perpetual variation7’-)s & i}5t °lun^ altogether the mere informations of sense.?
contemplated in their inconstancy admit of no eilrnl 7 ' ib 6 ’ accordingly, to examine these processes of
To estimate them, we must find the Lit to whil L 7^’ m T°Trder to discover the grounds of trutli and
continually approximate, and we thus as it were rednrvL t n°W C ^ C ubseryed, that when the mind compares
fixed order the apparent disorder andVremihritv i ° .7° sensatilonsi and decides on their similarity or difference,
the variable in “ SfaSeSTlS maTe “ *“5* « which thi judgment is
notion is not fully developed bv Plato Tbit it ^ * f nade. \Uien, for instance, it decides on the equality of
in his doctrine of a twofold class of sciennou 1 ^ cflm c?ci vvo tbings, there is a standard to which they are referred,
names; a popular altronomy for example andLn bT6 ^ f n°tion °f ^f, which selves as a mid^
astronomy faPp„p„lar musi™^^ WgTe^l^tr tedrmifhteSti,Ig the^UalitL°f ^ ^ C°m-
ter of which are sciences of the invariable nr, i A -7 Pai. In like manner, there is always, whenever a com-
and run up into his Theory of Ideas 3 6 mte’ P^,18011 18 made by the mind, some general principle, which
III. The third phasis of the Then™ ic tbot • t u • • 18 thP medlum of the comparison. And this is a principle
a philosophy of Being, in opposition to theme7 5 ,S u0t 7 aPY Way Produced. by the sensations; for it is evi-
of sensible phenomena According to the = v, f 7tt' Ct'7 dent7 i)nor to and independent of them; being ap-
tus, the sensible worid wt ever Lwinl 7 ° Hf?ch; 7ahd to. by the mind as a criterion of them. This gene-
becoming” or incipiency- beintr a rvSreT "l a State °c ;'al. PriI].clPle> then, is in every instance the Idea; and not
successive phenomena displacing e&rh ntl eyc 0pment of being formed by the sensations, it is not subject to their
sYei.-a? sof s11 ^ ^ ^
object m the universe was aLere cofierfo00 V^ eV-ry ^77 WG See the Peculiar meaning of the term
phenomena. Of nothing could it be affirmed that iUs^The tl^6? in.Pla7’S philosophy. It consists in its contrast with
very sensations, no less than th,. ..i,;,,, .■ , * d .L' the objects of sensation. Mio latter never attain to any
_ tha" tlle obJect3 of th™, were in definite perfect form-to any dear outline, as it were, to
im(Prom.C459Agnedt0 arithmetic in the early philosophy, is shewn in that line of Aschylus: k*, ^
3 O; um 'rj-ji agt9-fttiriKKI raurai; At ; ^ ~ v Phileb. pp. 234—240.
{Phileb. p. 303; iho Rep. yi.) ’ ' ™ rxurw, hoparo; ho; kikoh—m.
4 YJxccPtct ^ 5 ™
* Phedo, 'pp. 170, 230-236; Rcr. fi. pp.' ?45-147 ■ Th'xlet * ^ * 8i ? Im- PP- ISO-144.
VOL. XVII.
5 i
802
P L A T O.
Plato's the eye. They flow and have vanished before they could
Writings attain to such form ; since, m the very succee *-
and Piulo- anotherj they not only pass away, but undergo aUe.at o •
sophy- But the standard to which they are referred m the mud, is
several similar previous informations of sense, combined into Plato’s
one general conclusion ? And though Aristotle allows that
such a general conclusion, in which the mind acquiesces, aT1g0pll’ 0'
might be regarded as scientific,4 this could not be admitted
   . . . 1)V a philosopher who placed the objects ot sensation out ot
a positive defined shape, or form, or sPe^'?’81 Pcan deariy the pale of Being. It was not enough for Plato’s system to
form, analogous to an object of sight of Y in favour of the scientific value of Experience, that
trace the whole outline by the eyed For reason, Ure ^ ^ and that particular instance of an information of
term exemplar, ^ahr/!Ma, is also ajap i t had no immoveable truth in it, yet, from the observation
As the one perfect standard to which all heuepor ott ^ ^ & number of simi]ar instances, a general uniformity might
censes are referred, it appears in the light of a pattern, to
which they would be conformed, but for that incessant mu¬
tability which necessarily belongs to them. This, however,
was rather the Pythagorean view of general principles than
the Platonic, though Plato himself not unfrequently recurs
Plato, at the same time, in thus constituting Ideas the
of a number of similar instances, a general uniformity might
be inferred, and an immoveable general principle established.
He would grant that generalization was a corrective of ex¬
perience. For this he did when he granted some import¬
ance to the arts in education, and for the purposes of life.
But truth with him must be universal, not simply general:
it must be that which is always the same, not simply that
Plato, at the same time, in .us c'ons 1 J1 1 & • teIfo t0 which is only for the most part. And the highest degree of
sole absolute criteria ot rea exis e , ^ evidence of experience, even that which amounts to what
^ny all reality whatever to conclus on, d awn from our the e*,de ^ 4||sshort ofthis absokltc univer.
sensible experience, such as those of the physical sciences
But he means, in the first place, to shew the delusive cha¬
racter of all informations of sense which are not corrected
by the internal reason of the mind. In the next place, his
design is to point out the inferior knowledge which every
other kind of evidence conveys, but that which is drawn
from the intuitive perceptions of the mind. The infor-
is called moral certainty, falls short of this absolute univer¬
sality. It might be urged, for example, that though what
was sweet to one person and at one time, might be bitter
to another person and at another time; and though what
seemed the same sensation of sweet, was not in fact the
same at two successive moments, but a reproduction ; still
it was possible, by combining recollections of many similar
from the intuitive Perceptions o knowledge of instances, to form a general notion which should adequately
matrons of sense, he teaches, are only a Knowieuge * tW * tinn. Still Plato would sav. this was
semblances or idols, l/xac/a, conjecture rounded on mere
images of the truth. He describes this kind ot knowledge
by an admirable illustration from a supposed case of men
placed in a long cavern, with their bodies so chained from
infancy, that they can only look before them, whilst the
light of a fire from behind casts on the side opposite to
them, the shadows of vessels, and statues of stone and wood,
carried along a track leading upwards from the cavern by
persons who are themselves concealed by a wall, like the ex¬
hibitors of puppets. As men so circumstanced would see
nothing of themselves, and of each other, or of the things
thus carried along, but the shadows, they would mistake the
characterize that sensation. Still Plato would say, this was
only belief or opinion, and not science. The object of
science must be such as cannot be otherwise : it must be
absolutely one and the same permanent being: you must
altogether quit the stream of the world ot sense, and land
on the rock of unchangeable eternal Being.
Thus Rhetoric is strongly reprobated by Plato, on the
very ground on which it is systematically taught by Aris¬
totle, of its being nothing more than an instrument of per¬
suasion, or an art speculating on the means of persuasion.
Much of his invective indeed derives its point from its ap¬
plication to the servile rhetoricians of his day. Still we
urns carnect along, out tne snauows, uiey wuum Luc ^ VA —“ . , ^ r
shadows for the realities ; they would speak of the shadows find him condemning Rhetoric on the abstract ground of
as if these were the things; and if any voice was heard its having no higher view than persuasion. In the modern
from the persons carrying along the figures, they would view of the subject, as in Aristotle s, Rhetoric is a reai
think the sounds proceeded from the passing shadow.2 Just science, so far as it is framed on just conclusions respecting
like this, he declares, is the influence of education in the those modes of speaking, or writing, which excite interest
lower world of sense on the minds of men. They must be and produce conviction. \\ ith Plato it is mere quackery ,
carried up from this cavern, in which they see everything and for this reason, that it is founded on experience of uhat
only by an artificial light, to the light of the sun itself, to persuades, being only an i^Ts/g/a or rgA, a knack acquired
the region of Ideas, where alone objects are seen as they by experience and converse with the world ; an accom-
are in themselves. plishment, learned by practice, without any leal knowledge,
As to the knowledge conveyed by the physical sciences, in flattering the passions of men. He in fact legarded Ex-
neither is this properly Science. It amounts only, as he perience as corresponding with what we call empiricism ;
states it, to belief or opinion. These are less intellectual
than the mathematical sciences, because they are conver¬
sant about human opinions and desires, or about the pro¬
duction and composition of things, or about the means of
sustaining things produced and compounded.3 They are
contrasting it with the conclusions of abstract reason, as we
contrast an illiterate and unscientific use of experience
with that of the philosopher.5
Looking to that sort of Experience on which the popular
teaching of the Sophists was founded, Plato, we should say,
therefore as unstable as the things about which they are. was fully justified in his condemnation of the experimental
4- /-I/-v-«ry-Y i a! y-v £* »r y/-lo /••v LVy'%' o 4-U /-»xr /-y/"\1 y-v-y I-1 y /"y /"l r\4- Vy i C? rlovr T VXTCIC 1 T’Y fl 11 Hf'kf'l V» T1". W£LS
But they are still not devoid of evidence, so far as they col¬
lect the real informations of the senses, and do not learn
from mere shadows. This is implied in his calling such
knowledge belief, and distinguishing it from conjecture;
though he is rigid in preserving the exclusive prerogative
of Truth to the knowledge of the Ideas.
method of his day. It was in truth mere quackery. It was
content with shadows and images of the truth, and entirely di¬
rected toproducinri a desired effect, without caring for the ab¬
solute truth ;—a shallow philosophy of sensation, not found-
prerogative ed in the nature of things. He had thus to contend against
a system, which distorted that criterion of truth, which man
or irum to tne knowledge ot tne Ideas. a system, wnicn distorted tnat cmeiion oi rruui, wmeu uian
The evidence of Experience was necessarily slighted in has in himself, by the right use of his reason conjointly with
such a philosophy, and condemned as insufficient for the dis- his experience, to the undermining of all truth and reality,
covery of truth. For what is Experience but the memory of This empirical system was the crying evil of those times.
1 Hanc illi ideam appellabant, jam a Platone ita nominatam ; nos recte speciem possumus dicere. (Cicer. Acad. Q». i. 8.) Forma; sunt,
quas Graeci ibaj vocant, &c. (Cicer. Topic. 7.)
* Rep.' yii. ad init. 3 /jy. pt igo.
^ Ex. S ipwiiQias 'h lx. vruvrus ti^spriffccvros too xaS-oXov tv ri) rav tvai •xa.^a. rot. vroWn, o otv Iv aorcctriv tv Ivp Ixt/vms ro otiro, n^(VAi Vx
xru tvrurrtipns' txv piv vt^i yivttriv <rs%vns' sxv h Tigi ro ov, W.ompy,;. (Aristot. Analyt. part ii. c. «/<.)
* dorgias, p. 117, et setp ; Phcedr.
PLATO.
Plat° s It had infected politics, and education, and private inter-
andPhifo- cour®e’ as we^ as philosophy. In opposition to it, he had
803
sophy. t0 take UP an antithetical position ; to call in question the
_existing acceptation and use of the human criterion of
truth ; to limit it within its proper bounds, and guard against
its perversion. Accordingly the whole stress of his philo-
sophy is on this point. It is a perpetual polemic against
the sophistical principle, that “ man is the measure of all
things.”1 This amply accounts for his disparaging so much
as he does, the scientific value of Experience, and insisting
on the necessity of the existence of higher principles than
those of Experience, in order that the mind may duly re¬
ceive and appreciate the information of sense. He taught
men, at any rate, to perceive that the popular notion of that
evidence of truth which man has in his own nature was false
and deceptive, and that in all judgments and reasonings
there is also something more than is merely of man.
IV. Ihe fourth leading point of view under which the
Theory of Ideas remains to be considered, is its aspect as
it is a theory of the Cause of the universe. Under this
aspect it is identified with the speculation into the Chief
Good. Here it is an account at once of the first principle
of motion, and of the end to which all things tend as their
perfection and ultimate good. According to Plato, there
was no other cause worthy of the name, or which really
accounted for the phenomena of the universe, but “ The
Good,” or, as it is technically called, the Final Cause. The
early speculations of philosophers had been chiefly directed
to the material phenomena of the universe, and had at¬
tempted to account for them in a rude manner, bv refer¬
ring them to some one or more of the material elements.
Some indeed had introduced also moral influences into their
theory. The Pythagoreans combined with their specula¬
tion of the mysterious Unity, the notion of Love as the one-
making principle. The Ionic school, however, appears to
have led the opinion of philosophers in regard to the cause
of the universe at the time of Plato. And though Anaxa¬
goras asserted the ascendancy of Mind, he had lost sight of
his great theory in the explanations from material causes,
to which he descended in the completion of his system.
Socrates began a strenuous opposition to the physical philo¬
sophers. Plato carried on that opposition, and, blending the
familiar ethics of Socrates with the moral and theological
mysticism of the Pythagoreans, established the Final Cause
or theory of “ the Good,” as supreme over the domain of
science.
Anaxagoras had certainly prepared the way for the the¬
ory. Plato took up his doctrine of a Divine Intelligence,
and gave it that development which, as it had been taught
by Anaxagoras himself, it yet waited to receive. It was
but a vain theory of a Supreme Mind (sublime and import¬
ant as the simple enunciation of the great truth was), which
did not also exhibit the Supreme Mind as operating in the
universe by design, and as diffusing the energy of its in¬
telligence and goodness, as well as of its power, throughout
its operations.
The Supreme Mind, therefore, according to Plato, must
be conceived, as exemplifying the attributes of its own nature
in the works which have proceeded from it. If it be granted
that there is a Supreme Mind, that must be the true measure
of all things in the universe. All things must have been
framed according to the scheme which such a mind would
contemplate in their production. As intelligence, it cannot
be regarded but as working for some object, suexa rov; for by
this is intelligence distinguished from unintelligent force ;
and the only object to the Supreme Intelligence is the most
perfect nature, which is itself. The pattern of its own per¬
fections, therefore, must have been present to it, and in Plato’s
its design, in the construction of the universe. In other Writing
words, the Deity himself is not only the author of all tiling and Pbiio'
but he has designed to exemplify in them his own attri-, s0‘)hy-
butes. The principle, accordingly, by which all true phi- ^
Josophy must hold, and which it must carry out into its
speculations, is, that “ God is the measure of all things.”2
And hence, whenever the proper being of any thing is to
be explored, it must be studied in that light in which it is
seen as a work of the Supreme Mind, designed after the
pattern ol the Divine perfections. In such a contemplation,
the theory of the Best is the view by which philosophy
must be guided; for, in Ancient Philosophy, an object of
intelligent aim, and good, are equivalent terms. The object
at which the most perfect Intelligence aims, must be, there¬
fore, that which is best; and in tracing out, accordingly,
the workings of the Divine Mind in the world, we must
look for the best” in everything. That notion of every¬
thing by which it is “ best,” is both its real nature, and
the cause of its being produced.
But why is not everything, as it is actually seen, a work
of “ the best ? ’ why is not good visibly impressed on every¬
thing as it stands forth to the view ? why must we, in short,
resoit to the Idea of good, in order to ascertain its nature,
instead of taking it simply as it appears ?
The antagonist force of unreason in the nature of that
which has body, and is apprehended by the senses, occasions
all the imperfection and evil in the world, as the world ac¬
tually exists. It subsisted already in the mass of disorder
and confusion which the Divine Intelligence, by its opera¬
tion, had brought into order and regularity of motion ; and
it still subsists, though reduced into subordination to intel¬
ligence. It is overruled so as to minister to the designs of
mind, but still impedes by its contrariety of nature the de¬
velopment of good in the world. And thus Plato says that
it is impossible for evils to perish out of the world, for
that there must ever exist a contrariety to good.3 Evil
pre-existed, and evil accordingly must be displaced by the
presence of good ; as contraries are displaced by contraries;
and as all generation, or production, is carried on by a pro¬
cess from contrary to contrary. Thus, though evil retires
before good in the wmrld of generated things, evil still ma¬
nifests itself in the very act of its retiring before good ; and
a perpetual opposition of good and evil remains. What we
see, accordingly, in the world, is not the perfect accom¬
plishment of good, but effort and tendency after good in all
things. The effects of a struggle between reason and un¬
reason are manifested, on the one hand, in the evanescent
imperfect nature of all sensible tilings ; and, on the other
hand, in their constant renewing, or in that undying vigour
with which they flow on, and are reproduced, and aim at a
perfection beyond themselves.4
Though, therefore, the Divine Artificer has designed
everything in the world for the best, they are not actually
the best as they are presented to our senses. They are the
best that such things can be, but they do not attain to the
Idea of good, according to which they have been made.
Time, for example, only imperfectly represents the divine
eternity, which is its true Idea. In eternity there is no dis¬
tinction of past, present, and future. But the bodily nature of
things will not admit of this co-instantaneous development of
the divine Idea. Existence is here broken up into succes¬
sive moments; and these successive moments, marked by
the periodic motions of the heavenly bodies, introduce the
distinctions of number into the simple idea of duration.5
Again, the velocities of the heavenly bodies, which are ob¬
served by the astronomer, must be conceived as very in-
1 Iluvrut xewctrm ivfycoiros. (Thccelci. ; De Leg. iv.)
A-XoliirS-ai rcc xxxa, aSvvurov iirimvriiiy ya.^, x- r. A- (Z?e I_Cg. iv.)
2 Tie Leg. iv.
* Timccus ; PoiiL p. 30.
4 Timaeus.
804
PLATO.
Plato’s adequate representatives of the “real velocities performed in
Writings the true number and true figures,”1 which are the -Ideas
and Philo- after which they have been established. Or, again, it is
sophy. clear tiiat the ideas of the good, and the just, and the ho-
^ ^ nourable, and the beautiful, as they are seen m the world
around us, are only imperfectly developed. Our thoughts
are distracted by the contemplation of them m the world, by
the multiplicity of forms under which they are apprehended
by men, and it seems to the superficial glance as if there
wrere no one perfect standard ot each. At the same time,
we are able to trace evident signs of such a standard, when
we look thoughtfully at the course of things. We cannot
doubt, on such examination, that these principles exist, and
are working their way, and that the universe has been con¬
structed after the pattern of them. But all that the most
attentive study will disclose to us as actually observed, is
tendency towards these principles—a “ becoming” or inci-
piency of being.2 We do not see their full elfect, or what
would be their effect, if the v'orkl were such as to give them
free scope and exercise, and if the impressions of sense did
not diversify and obscure the presentations of them to our
minds. Must we not say, then, that if we formed our no¬
tions of these principles from the visible world, and the im¬
pressions of sense, that we must estimate them improperly ?
And must we not rather elevate our minds to the Ideas
themselves, after which the universe has been constituted
in its present order, and take our measures of them from
the Divine Being, whose goodness, and truth, and beauty,
they represent ?
Thus did the Theory of Ideas serve as a moral explana¬
tion of the course of nature, and meet the demand of phi¬
losophy, by removing the perplexity of the mind on the con¬
templation of the apparent disorder of the world, and giving
a firm stay to the thought in this direction. This apparent
disorder has been the constant appeal of the atheist and
the sceptic in all ages. And in Plato’s time there was
need, we find from several passages of his writings, of an
answer on the part of philosophy to speculative objections
on this ground. The Theory of Ideas supplied this answer.
By the theory of a perfect model of good, imperfectly
wrought out in the visible universe, the existence of evil
was accounted for in some degree, and the eye of thought
was enabled to see a chain of goodness, and beauty, and
order, binding together the most untoward appearances of
the moral world. As the Pythagoreans enchained these
disjointed portions of the moral fabric, by supposing a fun¬
damental Unity pervading the whole, and reducing the mul¬
tiple and the unlimited to definite proportion—a sort of key¬
note, modulating the apparent discords of nature3—so Plato
made the one moral good the all-pervading moderator of
the system of the universe. The abstract notions, the ge¬
nera, and the species, and the definitions, which dialectical
science brought out by the aid of language, presented the
materials for extending the moral view to other notions be¬
sides those strictly moral; and thus a theological and mo¬
ral complexion was spread over the whole region of philo¬
sophy.
Ideas of evil were evidently excluded. “ The good”
could not be the cause of all things, but only of those that
were well constituted; of evils it was causeless.4' Evil, as
we have seen, had no exemplar or pattern in the nature of
the Author of the universe. It was a condition of that
bodily nature on which the good was actively displayed. PM.0’9
Evil arose from the nature of the “ diverse”5 inherent in .^ripVl?s
body ; that nature in body by which it was contradistin- an , °‘
guished from the “ sameness” belonging to the Ideas. ^
In considering the Theory of Ideas under the different as¬
pects which it presents, we have in fact taken a summary
view of the whole of Plato’s philosophy. This theory is
the cardinal principle of the whole. The speculations on
particular branches of philosophy are all included in this
one theory, which binds them together and explains them.
For when the mind had once risen to the contemplation of
the Ideas, it needed no further helps from observation or
study of nature to understand all knowledge. The mind
was then in possession of the only true principles of know¬
ledge ; and to enter into the consideration of material and
sensible phenomena, was only to return to the darkness and
the dreams from which the eye of the intellect had been
purified,—to quit the light of the sun for the cavern of
shadows.
Accordingly, all his writings are devoted to the establish¬
ment of this theory. Proceeding on that notion of the im¬
portance of the theory which he inculcates, he bends every
thought to this one point. No one science is set forth
by him in detail; no one subject obtains with him a
full and explicit consideration. All is resolved into its
most abstract and general view, that the mind may be led
to see the common principles of all truth; so intent is he
throughout on his theory of Ideas, whatever may be his im¬
mediate subject of discussion. Pie assumes hypotheses, and
examines them, and refutes them, in the way of argument,
without pronouncing on either side of a particular question,
as if indifferent about the establishment of any mere opinion,^
and desirous only of clearing his way for the perception of
his theory.
But to place that theory in its full light, we should ad¬
vert to the theories of Knowledge and of the Soul, which are
intimately connected with it. These theories contain his
account of the origin of the Ideas.
Knowledge, according to Plato, is Reminiscence, ’Awsit-
vjjo7£, a recovery of forgotten truth, which had been pos¬
sessed by the soul in a former state of existence. His dia¬
lectic professed to do nothing more than to lead the mind,
by apt interrogation, to perceive the Truth for itself. It
abandoned the attempt to communicate the Truth by di¬
dactic propositions. It only removed falsehood, and left the
truth to its own course, to suggest itself to the mind, now
disabused of its error and prejudice. It appealed to prin¬
ciples as certain criteria of truth, and yet confessed its in¬
ability to state those principles, and place them distinctly
before the mind of the learner. They were simply referred
to, as existing in every mind, whatever might be the pecu¬
liar opinions of the individual to whom the questions of the
dialectician were addressed. PIowr, then, could those prin¬
ciples have been acquired ? No time in the present life
could be pointed out when they first appeared in the mind.
They are prior to the sensations, for the sensations are re¬
ferred to them; and the sensations we have had from our
birth. These standard principles, then, must have been
acquired in a previous state of existence, and what is com¬
monly called learning, is, in fact, Reminiscence; and to
know, is, properly speaking, to remember.6
In proof of this account of the origin of the Ideas, Plato
1 Repub. vii. p. 158; also Philelus, p. 303.
ra. ev <ra.it tzitrS-ytrierw ixzivau <ri ootytrui toUQ-’ o hrnv ’itrov zai ahrou hliitirrtgu. hrrtv (Phccd. 170) ; ffgoS-VftiTrxi utv tfccvrcc <ra <roiu.vrx avcu
ixuvo iari Ss uvrou ^auXon^a. [Ibid. 171)- He goes on to say this applies to all subjects as well.
o o xa.'k\i<r<rt>s, »; an au<rov xu.t <ra ^vv'Sou/a.tya orifxaXiirra ev vroiti, rouro 2s arityuKit xva.Xo'yia. xttXXiirra a.Ti>riXi~v bvrorctv ya.^ ugiS-fAu*
TlT ” " J ' v Tiniantu, p. 307.) The Pythagoreans were fond of describing moral ideas by terms drawn from mathematics and music.
n|ian> ior example, was rirguyavas uvsu \Upyov; and the words ‘xXYiy.u.iXut, iu.ij.iXwt, and the like,borrowed from their philosophy,
are familiarly used m a moral sense. ' rr rr ,
Oj* Tfa.vrwv yt atTiov <ro ayaS-sv, a.XXcufZy [A,iv m ainov, ruv 2s zazuy w.yairiay< (Rep, if)
* fviris. (Tim. p. 315.) 0* K 1 ' 6
Phcedo, pp. 166-174.
PLATO.
805
Again, in illustration of the same, Plato refers to instan¬
ces of association. Often, on the sensation of a particular
object, we are reminded of something else not present to
us. On seeing a lyre, or a dress, which one whom we love
has used, a thought occurs of the person to whom it be-
Joiiged. So also, on seeing pictures of objects, persons and ment. The wonder is accounted^ for by theTact to whfcli
objects will be suggested to the mind, unlike as well as like Plato has called our attention. The demonstrat on of he
to the objects in the picture. Or: one of two friends, being problem appeals in every successive step to intuitive
presented to our view, we are reminded nf the other who ^ tj. ‘ ,e. inlultlve
presented to our view, we are reminded of the other who
is absent.2
Now the instances here referred to, both those of associ
ation, and those of the self-teaching of the mind by the ex
. , . , n° . .  i  n'ou-o we cunve at ir nas oeen
citement or its reflection, are highly interesting and import- clear principles of our own minds
ant in the history of the origin of ideas. But they do not
prove the point for which Plato adduces them. The case
of th# slave interrogated by Socrates certainly shews, that
there are principles in the understanding, which are not de¬
rived from external information, but which only wait to be
developed by occasions apt to call them forth. And as to
the instances of association, we can only say, it is an ulti¬
mate fact of our mental constitution, that particular objects
serve to bring others before our thoughts. All such in¬
stances are illustrations of the fact, that the mind is not pas¬
sive in its admission of truth, receiving knowledge simply as
something infused in it from without; but that its know-
convictions of the mind. Ideas are suggested by which
the statements at each point of the proof are tested; and
we sanction the conclusion ultimately, because the process
bjf which we anive at it has been approved throughout by
But though the theory of Reminiscence has not been sa¬
tisfactorily made out by Plato, he has the merit of having
distinctly noticed and marked, in speculating on the origin
of the Ideas, a class of notions of which no previous account,
as it seems, had been given. The philosophy of sensation had
before his time chiefly engaged the attention of thinking men,
whether of those of the Eleatic school, who made every¬
thing “ stationary,” or of the Ionic, who made everything
flow. 3 It had been carried into the extreme of refinement
by the Sophists, its devotees, when Plato commenced his
antagonist system. He found that this philosophy was too
, , . -  . r~ ’ —.   narrow a basis for the structure of science, and that it could
ledge is, in great measure, owing to its exertion of its facul- not stand alone. He saw that it left altogether unexplored
ties, and its bringing to bear on the instruction given its own the perceptions of the mind itself, such, for example, as
intuitive convictions ; that consequently the excellence of the notions of equality, identity, time, causation, right, &c.;
a teaching consists, not so much in the positive mass of in- and that these notions were, in truth, more important for the
struction conveyed, as in stirring up the mind to exercise the establishment of science, than those which had previously
powers with which it is gifted, and to learn from itself. chiefly attracted the attention of philosophers. He applied
ihe stress of Plato s argument in favour of the theory of himself accordingly to examine and characterize these prin-
Kemmiscence, and of the previous existence of the Soul as ciples. The main thing to be accomplished in such an in-
a consequence of it is laid, we find, on the ground of the
priority of the ideas compared with the several particular
sensations which are referred to them as criteria. But the
priority which he here claims for the Ideas, is not, in fact, a
precedence in the order of time, but of logic. In the process
of reasoning, general principles are prior to, and more known
quiry, was to distinguish them accurately from the informa¬
tions of sense ; to shew that they were not included in, or
in any way derived out of, the informations of sense, but
developed by the workings of mind. This fact he has re¬
corded in his theory of Reminiscence,—a term expressing
, , ~ v , to-iVii——7 *—the point of contrast in his method, to that of the empiriciil
lan, e pai icu ais w ich fall under them; because in pos- philosophers before him exclusively founded on Sensation,
sessmg iem we possess the pai ticulars, and the particulars, The truth and importance, accordingly, of Plato’s Theory
as yet unknown, are known by deduction Rom them as al- of Ideas, appear in this; that by that theory he laid a sta-
rea y nown. ius we familiarly speak of a conclusion as ble foundation of science, in the principles themselves of
0lc*n9 aom the premises. Now, Plato appears to have the human mind. His error is, that he carried that theory
rans errec a^ priority of this kind to the Ideas, and then to too far; that he included in it notions which are not part
aye concluded their priority absolutely, as principles of the fundamental principles of the mind, and thus involved
exis ing in the mind independently of the occasions on his theory in vagueness and paradox. The war of Nomi-
w ic t ley are called forth. But to establish a theory of nalism and Realism is well known to every one who has
emmiscence, it was further required to be shewn, that the looked into the History of Philosophy, or of theological opi-
1 eas aie puor in the order of time,—that w’e possess them nion. This found its occasion in the wide generalization
antecedently to, and independently of, all experience. The of the Ideal Theory. Had Plato restricted his theory to
instance which he has given of the way in which a mathe- such notions as really exist in the mind; and had he not
ma ica conclusion is reached by the simple leading of the extended it, without discrimination, to those which belong
mind in the right track, is an instance of what has in mo¬
dern philosophy been more properly called “ Suggestion,”—
not of Reminiscence. So far from being an instance of Re¬
miniscence, it shews, on the contrary, that the general prin¬
ciples of the mind are developed subsequently to the par-
to general terms, and which are purely notional; there
w'ould not have been that ground for controversy on the
subject. As the case has been,—one class of disputants,
looking to the generalizations of language, the genera and
species of logic, took the nominalist view of the subject, 
Plato’s introduces Socrates making an experiment on the mind of ticular occasions which suggest them It .h™* pi 1 •
aKr ^ Socra;sis rei™d rtin?a that these w1- - Kmfr; dfpets on ^
sophy. : H ! questions to a slave of Meno one of his disciples, occasions for their development, though not dependent on and Phif°-
le“fh el,cltl"S fl™ the youth, after repeated cor- them for their truth and reality; for the mind accents dim soph>r-
tn to0" sf 1Ibf erTS’ a nght enunciation of a geometrical as true, and as the criteria of all other truth at the mo
omlV-rl MCratev then rint.S t1ril\ml)hantIy to the instance, ment when they are presented to it. This, then is what is
and bids Meno observe how he had taught the youth nothing, really illustrated in Plato’s instance in the Mena! Geome-
but simply interrogated him as to his opinions, whilst the trical science is the best illustration of it thoup-h if is
the kn°WledSe thUS talS° in f1 ^ because1 the
y t g m hlS rmncL ^mote conclusions to which we are brought by the chain
of exact demonstration in that science from a few very
simple definitions, present the fact most strikingly. Those
conclusions are clearly far beyond the apparent compass of
the definitions themselves. They are strictly deduced from
them, however, and with an irresistible cogency of arcm-
* Meno, pp. 3S2-261. * Phccdo.
Plato characterizes them; the one, as the nH ovro; arxcturut; the others, as It ptovn;. Thcxt,
806
PLAT O.
Plato’s imputing to the whole of the ideas the attribute of one por-
Wmings , jon 0f them ;—the other class of disputants, justly observ-
wid Philo- • t|ie reaiity 0f certain general principles, became the ad-
. _so^'' . yocates of realism throughout. What has been already
said on the dialectical origin of the theory, will sufficiently
account for the confusion of two such dissimilar classes of
principles in Plato’s system.
How shall we wonder, therefore, that the great logical
philosopher who followed him should find it necessary to
combat the theory of Ideas in the undefined form in which
it had been left by its author. As thus left, it stood in the
way of those exact arrangements of the objects of thought
which the rigorous method of Aristotle required, and intro¬
duced a class of existences for which he could find no place
in his system.
Nor, further, will it be matter of wonder that controversies
should have arisen in the schools respecting the nature of the
Ideas; such as, whether they subsisted by themselves, or
were bodies, or were actually separable from sensible things,
or only separable from them in thought; or whether they
were locally situated anywhere, or only in the Divine Mind.
The establishing of the theory in its general form was the
great business of Plato : it was enough for him to have pro¬
jected it above the horizon of philosophy. Others would
elaborate it after him with more or less skill. Various spe¬
culations would be raised concerning it; and controversy
would at length reduce it to more definite form, and a pre¬
cision beyond the contemplation of its author.
But, however just and important the Ideal Theory is in its
connection with metaphysical science, it is but too clear that
it retarded the advancement of sound physical philosophy, by
its substitution of final causes for physical, and consequent¬
ly withdrawing attention entirely from the latter. It would
follow, indeed, from the suspicion thrown over the informa¬
tions of sense, and the undervaluing of experience, that
physical science would be slighted under such a system of
philosophy. But the dominion of the theory of Ideas would
necessarily exclude any other consideration in order to the
truth, but that of tendencies or final causes. No other view of
nature, but that supplied by this theory, would be conceived
to possess the stability which science demanded. According¬
ly, hypotheses would occupy the place of investigation here.
The philosopher would be speculating on what ought to be,
instead of observing accurately what is; and assuming a
priori notions of “ the best,” in order to determine the law of
physical facts. The principle, “ that all things are consti¬
tuted for the best,” no doubt holds good in physics as well
as in other studies of the Divine workmanship ; but it is
here the termination of inquiry, not the commencement.
It may even be employed instrumentally in the process of
inquiry, to lead the mind to a point to which investigation
should be directed. And this it may effect in two ways:
either, from considering the good intended in the structure
of some object, we may be led to see the parts of that struc¬
ture in a way which discloses their real organization, and
which we should otherwise not have observed ; or, from
taking our view of an object, not as it is actually exhibited
in inferior specimens, or in those states of it in which it is
seen only in progress, or under distortion, but from the most
perfect specimens,—those most answerable to a divine in¬
tention or tendency to the best,—wre may judge what it is,
by considering what it would or should be. But to lay down
final causes as principles from which the truths of physics
may be deduced, is, as Bacon says, to corrupt natural phi¬
losophy with theology, and to render it barren of all fruits.
Such, then, is the state of Plato’s Natural Philosophy. In
fact, though he asserts the importance of physics in his own
sense of the term, the science has no place in his philoso¬
phy. He goes so far indeed as to say that no art can flourish Plato’s
apart from a knowledge of physical truth ; and he attri- Writings
butes the imperfect Rhetoric of his day to its want of such and Phll°'
a foundation.1 But even whilst he imputes the superiority v s0Phy‘ /
of Pericles as an orator to his studies under Anaxagoras,2 he
strongly objects to the system of that philosopher, as we have
already seen, on account of his leaving out all consideration
of final causes.
Accordingly, in the dialogue which fills up this department
of his system, lie speaks in the person of the Pythagorean,
Timseus, and strictly follows the Pythagorean notions. The
detail of this dialogue consists of a history of the order of the
formation of the universe in all its parts ; commencing with
an account of the universe at large, and the hierarchy of the
heavens, and ending with a minute explanation of the struc¬
ture of man, in regard to his moral and intellectual, as well
as his physical powers. And here mathematical figures and
proportions are the principles into which the composition and
motions of all bodies are resolved. But the theory on which
the whole speculation turns, and which gives the explana¬
tion of the phenomena, is the theory of “ the Best.’’ It is
an account of Good operating throughout the universe, con¬
forming everything to itself, and constraining the untoward
nature of body to yield to its sovereign power. An intelli¬
gent and good author of all things is assumed ; and his or¬
der of proceeding is inferred from that which presents itself
to our view as “ the best.” Thus the Father of the universe
constructs it after the eternal unchanging pattern; “ for that
is the noblest of generated things, and the best of causes.”
He formed by his immediate operation whatever is of eter¬
nal unchanging nature. Nothing, indeed, but Himself, is
immortal and indissoluble by its own nature ; but, good as
he is, he can never be disposed to destroy what is good.
And therefore the fabric of the universe and the celestial
beings, the generated and visible divinities included in it
(with the highest order of whom Plato’s description identi¬
fies the luminaries of the heavens), subsist eternally, not of
themselves, but by virtue of their participation of Good.”3
Whatever is subject to death,—as the bodily nature of man
and brutes,—being imperfect, is the work of the generated
divinities, imitating the power of the Supreme. It is with
these secondary Gods that he connects the popular mytho¬
logy ; deriving from them the parentage of Saturn, and Jove,
and the other objects of heathen worship; and leaving the
further account of their origin to be given by the current
tradition. Thus the supreme God is described as the au¬
thor of all good throughout the universe ; and where any¬
thing of evil or imperfection is, the agency of the subordi¬
nate powers, and the irrational nature of body, are inter¬
posed to guard him from imputation of evil.
Derived as his history of the universe evidently is from
the early theogonies, it is very remarkable that it keeps
clear altogether of the oriental dualism. There is but one
active principle in his system of the universe, the principle
of Good ; and nothing forms or moves but that only. “ Let
us not,” indeed, he expressly says in another place, “ con¬
ceive that there are any two gods, of contrary sentiments,
causing the revolution of the universe.”4 He seems indeed
to personify the irrational force of body, where he describes
it under the name of Ai*ayx>], necessity.5 But he is evident¬
ly only speaking in metaphorical language here (that lan¬
guage probably derived from personifications found in the
early cosmogonies), intending to represent that inert power
by whichNature, as we speak, acts according to its laws.
It must have been observed all along how important a
place the nature of Body, cw/xaros/Osf, occupies in Plato’s
philosophy. He has nowhere, however, attempted to give
any positive description of the nature of Body. It is, in
1 Phvd'ut.
Mn-r au Soa rm $£*. ipgavst/vri Iccvrois bavr/a rr^Kpuy avroy.
2 Ibid.
(Pol. p. 30.)
3 Tiviceus, pp. 303, 325*
5 Timceus, p. 339.
P L A
Plato’s truth, rather a condition in order to the development of the
amn’hilo theory in connection with the phenomena of sensa-
sophy. t*on’ ^ian any Posdive nature, according to his conception
- ^ . of it. He has left it in the most mysterious form: nor does he
seem indeed to distinguish it from Space, when he shadows
it out by negatives of the attributes of all actual existence.
In giving an analysis of production or “ becoming,” yevecris,
he enumerates three principles as concerned in the process:
1. The thing produced; 2. That in which it is produced ;
3. That from which the thing produced takes the pattern of
its production; depicting them under the analogy of the
father, the mother, and the offspring.1 The notion of body
is Jiere represented by the intermediate term of the three,
namely, that in which the production takes place. “ The
nurse,”the general receptacle,” and “the laboratory,” £x,aa-
yuov, are also expressions by which he endeavours to charac¬
terize it, as being in its own nature incapable of being pre¬
sented to the senses or the intellect. “ As a person,” he
says, “ observing a perpetual succession of figures moulded
of gold, if asked during the process what was moulded,
could only safely answer, that it was gold ;”2 so we must be
content to speak of this nature, calling it only a receptacle
of forms or species, and not attributing to it any particular
species whatever. The tendency of this theory of Body is
obviously to remove all material phenomena from the class
of real existences. And it seems to point to the origin of
Plato’s ideal theory in some older philosophy avowedly
idealistic. At any rate, the speculation concerning body, as
it stands in his system, leaves a hiatus in the transition from
the world of Ideas to that of material existence.
The doctrine of Soul, as delivered by Plato, is properly
the connecting link between the worlds of “ being” and sen¬
sation. Hence is derived the importance of the theory of
the Immortality of the soul in his philosophy. For it is in
the soul that the eternal and immutable is found in the pre¬
sence of the incipient and evanescent; the intellectual idea
in contact, so to say, with the phenomena of sense. The
soul partakes of change, as it is connected with the bodily
nature : it is eternal and unchangeable, as it is the seat of
intelligence.
Soul, then, according to Plato, is the necessary condition
for the development of intelligence in the universe, as
Body is for the existence of sensation. Soul, therefore, was
necessarily prior to Body, as the first condition in order to
the constitution of the universe. It was the animating
principle by means of which the Deity, when he brought
the world out of the disorder and confusion of unreason,
communicated intelligence to it, fashioning it after the pat¬
tern of the eternal ideas. And not only is the whole uni¬
verse thus ensouled by the immediate agency of the Deity ;
but every particular system in it, in which any degree of
intelligence is found united with body, has in the very gift
of that intelligence a soul originally imparted to it by the
Father of the universe himself.
This is the ultimate account of that immortality which
Plato attributes to the soul of man. It is not as a human
soul that it is immortal; but it derives an eternal existence
from its being among the original intelligent units of the ani¬
mated universe. We see indeed a constant production of
living things in the world; but it is not, as they have “being,”
that they are thus produced or generated or “become.” This
is the result of that “diverse” nature which was blended in
their original composition with their higher principles, with
the principles, forsooth, of “ sameness” and “ being.”
For these are the three principles into which Plato ana¬
lyses Soul,—the principles of the same and the diverse,
t o. 807
and being ;3 and by these he explains the phenomena of Plato’*
its actual existence. No time can be assigned, then, to the Writing*
origin of that which by its nature is, and is the same es- and ^hil0’
sentially. No one soul, therefore, can now begin to exist. v so^i-v~_ 7
And again, whatever once exists can never cease to exist,
unless there is anything capable of destroying its prin¬
ciples of Sameness and Being. But Death, as he shews,
has no such power. It may disengage the soul from its
present body by dissolving the body ; but it cannot affect
the essential vitality which is in the soul. This essential vi¬
tality is the direct contrary to death. It therefore recedes
when death comes, according to that law of Contraries,
which holds throughout the world of generation and cor¬
ruption, and which is the agent in all changes. But it still
lives as vigorously as ever, and returns to animate another
body in the course of Generation.4 Nor, for the same rea¬
son, can it maintain an unvaried perpetuity of existence. It
remains ever undestroyed; but from that “ diverse” prin¬
ciple which enters into its composition, it both alters in its
internal character, and only imperfectly imitates the Eter¬
nal Nature by a successive re-appearance in the forms of
new bodies.5 Thus, whilst it returns to the sensible world,
it migrates from the male to the female sex, or to forms oi
the lower animals, according to that condition of purity in
which it departed from its last body, or its previous degree
of intellectual cultivation. For, as we may observe, there
is no original distinction, according to the theory, between
the soul of one man and another, and the soul of man and
brute. All are equal in intelligence and goodness, as the
immediate work of the Divine Author. The varieties in the
characters of souls arise from the operation of the inferior
deities who framed the bodies of men and brutes, and the
use which individuals may make of their circumstances in the
world. Whilst the number of souls, then, remains the same,
they are continually changing their habitations, and passing
by death from one body to another in the different forms of
animal life ; undergoing degradation with the forms of in¬
ferior animals, or elevation with those of superior nature,
according to their state in a former existence.6
The theory of the immortality of the soul thus rests en¬
tirely on the Theory of Ideas. It is the universality, and
being, and truth, and perfection of the Ideas which prove
the soul to be eternal.7 Ideas are found existing in the
mind, but their acquisition cannot be traced to any parti¬
cular period of a mein's present life. They have been there
from time immemorial, for no one can say when they first ap¬
peared in his own mind. They were therefore born with us;
and if so, they must have had existence before our birth:
and who can limit that existence ? They have existed, for
ought we know to the contrary, from all eternity : and who,
then, shall limit their existence by any future period ? why
may they not be born with us in a life subsequent to the
present, as they were born with us in the present life, and
so on to all eternity in endless generations ? This is in
substance the train of reasoning by which Plato seeks to
establish the immortality of the soul. A similar argument
has been reproduced in modern metaphysical treatises, va¬
riously modified and stated, but the same in substance. How
little calculated it is to produce practical conviction, whilst
we admire its ingenuity, is evidenced by Cicero’s confes¬
sion, that whilst he wept over the Phccdo, his mind (detain¬
ed no deep impressions from the argument.8
This brings us to the consideration of Plato’s ethical sys¬
tem, in its vital connection with his physical and metaphy¬
sical doctrines.
The two great principles on which his ethical system re-
1 Timacus, pp. 342-344. 2 Ibid. p. 344.
4 AvaiAsS^sv ?s bv yiioix.iton, hvx. a.)utiot. (Dc Leg. x. p. 100.)
6 Tima us, p. 433 ; P/nrdo, ad Jin.
7 ’Oukovv, u a.u h a,Xrt§ua. kpiv rut btrut hrnt it rn aSaturas sit ri 'I'UXV oV 1 Mono, p. 361.)
8 Ibid.
s P'.Ktdo ; Mtrno.
8 Cicero, Tuic. Qu. i. 11.
PLATO.
808
Plato’s poses, are; Is£, that no one is willingly evil ;l that every
Writings one has in his own will a power of inducing changes in his
and Philo- character.2
_sop y^_ y These principles are only the counterpart ethical expres¬
sions of his theories of immutable Being, on the one hand,
and of the world of phenomena, or mere Becoming, on the
other.
For the soul of man, so far as it has any good or truth in
it, is framed after the pattern of the eternal Ideas of the
good and true. These Ideas, under the various moral as¬
pects which they present, constitute its moral nature. All
its desires, therefore, naturally tend to the Good and True.
These qualities are what the soul would be. They are the
mysterious realities to which it is striving to attain, in all
those various efforts after Pleasure which it makes in the
present life ;—unconscious it may be, as it is in fact in the
depraved, of the true nature of the objects to which its af¬
fections ultimately point. Still, if it be conceded that Ideas
are the only proper Beings, and that everything else is
phenomenal, or the mere product and offspring of the ge¬
nerating power of the eternal Ideas, it must also be admit¬
ted, that nothing else can be the real source of moral phe¬
nomena but the Good and True. In the moral, no less than
in the physical world, a constant succession of passing
events is found to take place. We perceive a variety of
affections in the nature of man as he is in the world, di¬
rected to a variety of objects, each aiming at some parti¬
cular gratification; one desire and its gratification passing
away, and others succeeding it in endless flow. All this
restless course, then, of moral events exhibited in the life of
man is phenomenal; not in the sense of its having no reali¬
ty whatever, but of its having no permanent reality—of its
being no more in the result than effort towards being—rest¬
less, endless effort towards that which may give rest and full
satisfaction, and stable being.
This ultimate object, then, however indistinctly sought,
is the aim of every individual soul of man. Some, indeed,
avowedly make mere sensual gratification the end of their
desires. They endeavour to satisfy themselves with the
limited and the evanescent. But the true cause of all that
perverted activity which they display, is the Good itself.
They know not what the Good is; but they love it in spite
of themselves, and bear evidence, by their life of unceasing
pursuit, that they are secretly actuated by the desire of
it,—and that they can find no rest in anything short of it.
Their soul, originally formed in the likeness of the Deity,
can never willingly be separated from its Divine image. In
the midst of its wildest aberrations, it feels the attraction of
like to like, impelling, and at the same time reclaiming it to
light.
This accordingly is Plato’s meaning in the principle,
which he so emphatically lays down, that “ no one is wil¬
lingly evil.” It is very different, we may observe, from
saying that no one commits evil willingly. And Plato
himself takes care to guard his theory from this miscon¬
struction. Fie readily grants, that acts of wrong are dis¬
tinguished by being voluntary and involuntary, without
which there could be neither merit nor demerit; but he
strenuously maintains that this distinction does not apply
to evil itself. It is in all cases involuntary. No one can
choose it in itself. It is necessarily the object of aversion,
as the good is invariably the object of choice and pursuit.
How is it, then, it will be inquired, that men do become
ev^»—that whilst they are really seeking to be conformed
to a divine pattern, they practically do what is evil, and,
losing more and more of their likeness to the Eternal Beim*,
conform themselves rather to the fleeting character of the
world of sensation ?
1 Timceus, 218; De Legibut, ix.
The explanation is found in the other great principle of Plato’s
Plato’s philosophy, the theory of Becoming, to which we Writings
have referred. Change is the characteristic of all that be- am* L’^0'
longs to this subjectas immutability is the characteristic ,
of Being. The course itself of successive phenomena may
be varied by impressions from circumstances. In the soul
there is a principle of change in the power of regulating
the desires,—in indulging them to excess, or moderating
them, according to the will. And the circumstances in
which the soul is placed, as connected with the sensible
world by means of the body, present the occasion for such
change. The humours and distempers of the body produce
discomposure in the soul. It becomes diseased analogous¬
ly to the body. This state of disease is what is commonly
called folly, ama ; and it takes the form either of madness,
/jrivia, or of mere ignorance, a/xoA/a. Where even igno¬
rance only is the result, the internal harmony of the soul is
disturbed. Pleasures and pains are unduly magnified; the
democracy of the passions prevails ; and the ascendancy of
reason is cast down.* In addition to these disturbances or
ailments through the body, come the influences of evil go¬
vernments, evil public lessons, evil education. Hence the
soul is changed from what it was when it first came from the
hands of its Divine author. The eternal Ideas after which
it was framed are not effaced from it. This cannot be ;
for then it would cease to have being; but it loses distinct
apprehension of them,—mistakes appearances of good for
good itself,—and under that delusion willingly does evil,
and presumes on obtaining happiness by a course of evil
conduct.
But the same principle of change in the soul gives an
opening also for its moral restoration. As the soul is de¬
teriorated by the contagion of the body, so it may also be
restored to a sound state by remedial treatment. The yield¬
ing to every passing desire, and suffering the desires to
grow out of proportion, and destroy the harmony of the
soul, is the cause of men’s falling into that blindness which
hides the good from their mental eye. By restraining
them, and moderating the desires, the internal disorder is
gradually corrected ; reason resumes its ascendancy; the
soul once more “ sees and hears aright,” and thus returns
to that good to which its desires naturally tend. It is a
long process, indeed, by which the restoration is effected ;
a process of gradual purification, jca^agcvs, of the soul, by
chastisement and suffering. Nor is it accordingly completed
in a single life ; many courses of existence must be passed
through. Not only is the present life of the soul a conse¬
quence of its conduct in a former one; but it is destined to
many successive stages of existence, each adapted to the
character acquired at the stage next preceding, until its de¬
filements are purged away.
These ethical doctrines of the philosopher, when divest¬
ed of the extravagance of his theory, so far accord with the
truth both of inspiration and experience, as they indicate,
that the utmost man can do in the present life is insuffi¬
cient to restore in him the lost image of God. Whilst
they lay down this truth under the disguise of the reme¬
dial process of the transmigration of the soul, they further
agree with the inspired authority, and with experience, in
imposing on man the duty of commencing the process of re¬
storation, and in holding him strictly responsible for the
state of his mind and affections, through that power of self-
direction and capacity of improvement by discipline, with
which he has been endued. Thus does he also bear evi¬
dence both to the fact of the perfection of man at his crea¬
tion, and that of his existing corruption. But he differs
fiom the Scripture account of that corruption, in making
it originally a physical rather than a moral debasement,
* Be Legibus, x.; Ibid. v. p. 212; Ibid. ix. p. 17; Phileb. p. 231.
ft.
PLAT O.
Plato s aw! representing it as taking place by a gradual process,
and PHlo- antl no*' ^ a SU(^^en and entire fall, the effect of a first
sophy. transgression of a positive divine command.
' 1 he Sophists, indeed, boasted of their power of trans¬
forming the characters of men, and accordingly made great
profession of “ teaching virtue.”1 But they coupled with
this pretension, the admission, that all opinions on moral, no
less than on other subjects, are equally true. All opinions in
morals, they said, are true; “ but all are not good. What
we would effect, therefore, is to lead men to such opi¬
nions as we know also to be both good and wise.”2 But
this was a mere evasion ; for if all opinions are equally true,
then must also each man’s view of good be true, as well as
that which his instructor would inculcate on him ; and there
is no fixed standard to which he may be conformed. Plato’s
theory of good, as the sole object of desire,—or the inva¬
riable tendency of the will to good, and its invariable aver¬
sion from evil,—was a strong ground of opposition to the
sophistical doctrine. It pointed out that there was a prin¬
ciple in man superior to instruction, and independent of
the accidents of worldly circumstances, the Qiog fur^ov, the
“ God-measure,” the fixed Divine standard, to which all
moral teaching should be directed, and from a reference
to which all moral discipline obtained its value.
From this mode of enunciating the fundamental prin¬
ciples of morals, it followed, that the practical morality
which Plato teaches, should be directed to the means of
removing the false appearances of good by which the mind
is deluded to evil. He shews, accordingly, that there are
false pleasures as well as false opinions—that men’s igno¬
rance extends, not only to mistakes in regard to their wealth
or bodily accomplishments, but as to their moral charac¬
ters ; for that most men think themselves better than they
really are.3 Thus does he apply to morals more particu¬
larly, the general confession which his philosophy exacts of
its disciple on all subjects, that he knows not what he pre¬
sumed he knew, and sends every one to learn himselfj in
order that he may be truly a moral man.4
Phis, therefore, according to Plato, is the great purpose
for which philosophy must be cultivated. Philosophy alone
can open the eyes to see the true value of things, and alone
elevate the mind from the evanescent region of the pheno-
menal world to the seat of true and eternal Being.
For the same reason Dialectic, as immediately conversant
about the Ideas of the good and true, is the ultimate study
of him that would seek to educate and improve the powers
of his soul to the utmost.
Philosophy and morality, in fact, in his system, perfectly
coincide. The love of truth is also the love of good, and
the love of good is the love of truth.3 The same process
by which the good man is effected, philosophically viewed,
is a power of analysing pleasure and pains, an art of men¬
suration, enabling the mind to discriminate between Truth
and Good on the one hand, and their semblances on the
other, and distinctly to apprehend them, under whatever
disguise they may be presented and obscured by the senses.6
Morally viewed, it is the one motive of the love of truth and
good predominating over, and purifying, and absorbing into
809
itself, every desire of human nature.7 In the first view, it Plato’s
is wisdom or philosophy; in the latter, it is purification,— Writings
and pertect virtue,—-and discipline of immortality,—the an<l PhUo-
resemblance and participation of the Deity.8 sophy.
Ihese views ol moral truth are in themselves certainly
giand and ennobling. As guides, however, to duty, they
are deficient in that particularity and homeliness of appli-
cation which are required for the real business of morality.
1 heir tendency, too, to contemplative mysticism is obvious,
left as they are by Plato in undefined outline, and clothed
in the charms of his imaginative eloquence. Nor shall we
wonder that they have easily combined with the feeling
of asceticism, so congenial to the human heart. The con¬
tempt which they throw over everything belonging to the
bodily nature of man,—the delusiveness imputed to the
senses, without any limitation of it, or guard against abuse
of the theory,—and the abstractedness from the world which
thej piopose, admit of being construed into a theory of mor¬
tification of the body, and of the purifying efficacy of self-
inflicted punishments. These tendencies, indeed, of Plato’s
ethical doctrines, were, not long after his time, exemplified
in the apathy and austerity of the Stoic morality. And
it is well known to what extent they have been developed
in the teaching and practice of religionists of all creeds. It
cannot be denied, also, that where they take hold of a mor¬
bid and susceptible temperament of mind,, they tend to sub¬
stitute, in such a case, the morality of imagination and sen¬
timent for that of common sense and household feeling, and
to fritter away the convictions of duty into mere proprieties
of taste; so that even whilst they elevate the character
above sordid and vulgar seductions of pleasure, they emas¬
culate and corrupt it, through the very excess of its theo¬
retical refinement.
As bad education was regarded by Plato as the other
great cause of human corruption, in addition to the influence
of Body on the soul, he directs a large portion of his philo¬
sophical disquisitions to correct the evil arising from the se¬
cond source. His ethical discussions go to the limiting of
the desires, and curing the diseases produced by them in
the soul. His political discussions have for their immediate
object, the laying down right principles of education, and
enforcing them by the constitution, laws, and power of the
state.3 His two great works, the most elaborate of his writ-
ings, the Dialogues of the Republic and the Laws, are ra¬
ther theories of Education than of Government and Laws.
The former indeed inquires more particularly into the prin¬
ciples on which a right government may be formed ; whilst
the latter gives a systematic view of the principles of legis¬
lation. Both, however, have in view the improvement of
human nature by social institutions expressly framed for
that purpose. It has been supposed that in the Republic
we have his theory of a perfect state, and in the Laws a
practical exemplification of the theory. But this is clearly
a mistake. Both are doubtless intended by Plato as theo¬
retical disquisitions on the political matters of which they
treat, whilst the real matter in hand is Education.10 This
is expressly asserted by Plato himself, when he compares his
legislation to the method of the philosophical physician.
s SXS:!reVCr’ ^IC other Sophists for pretending to teach virtue. He professed only the art of words. 2 Praiap.
vn^i to t^itoi tidos iv rui; TOUT iurtjj.a.ornx.uirt'i aoiTvs, ^o\oo^otTit fiiXTious iocuTovf, ouk ovtis- (Philcbux,
*• r- (IMd- P- 284.) This is drawn out in a beautiful passage of the Charmides. yap
^ l ™ yiyvutrxaii Uutov, *. r. X. {Charm, pp. 130-135.) * 7 S
hsz* (P/li/^fpV 305')“^”’ Ax‘P‘“s’ akX’ £'V'J ™ rs toZ ZXvSoZ;, xcc, otocvtoi
7 Conviv ^ c^aracterlzes ^ as a knowledge of geometrical equality, opposed to trXtovt&oc.
^ S£f ra Ivvcotov opoiMt, h, W/av xat ^era (p^moos yl-
8 De Legibus, vii. p. 354.
0 nZ“T'0',}'/l ou)i ™ >-oyov, louraifj.&a. vo.duu.v t, vot \<tti, xcoi Ttva luo ya/o tocvtvs poofjoit triov iTvai rot Vfitxtxunru.tyat h tZ »f«
Xoyo, v<p fipw, fotXSI „l(, fa or^oi to, Sso, ip.xr,™,. (Ibid. i. p. 41.) f f iv M **
VOL. XVII.
5 K
PLATO.
810
Plato’s When the mere empiric, he observes, should hear such a
Writings physician discoursing to his patient of the origin of the dis¬
and Philo- ease? anc[ ascending to the speculation on Nature, he would
. _sop y’ , be disposed to object that such proceeding was folly; “ for
it was not healing the sick man, but rather educating him,
as if he wanted to become a physician, and not to be made
well.”1 The like objection, he says, might be applied to his
method of legislation ; for, “ whoever pursues the inquiry
concerning laws,” he adds, “ as we are doing new, educates
the citizens, but does not legislate.”2 And he goes on to
say, in the person of the chief speaker, addressing the other
interlocutors of the Dialogue, that in their work of legisla¬
tion they were at leisure, as speculators on the subject, to
consider, not what was most necessary, but what was best.3
We are not to suppose, then, that Plato had in view the
actual foundation of a state, according to the principles of
government and legislation laid down in his two famous
dialogues. His object was to give an example of the most
perfect life,4 free from those impediments which all exist¬
ing governments and laws threw across the path of the vir¬
tuous man. As philosophy is the guide of private life, ele¬
vating it to the knowledge of the Good and True, so he
would have philosophy also seated on the throne of govern¬
ment, and exhibit the eternal Ideas of Good and Truth,
modifying society after their pattern. Hence it is that he
overlooks impossibilities in his arrangements; as is pointed
out by Aristotle in his acute comments on the leading
points of Plato’s political theories.5 All is sacrificed, in fact,
to the one great object of Plato’s mind, the sketching ot
the Idea of the Good as a social principle, apart from the
evil influences of existing society.
The most extravagant hypotheses, accordingly, are put
forward in this part of his philosophy; not indeed with a
view of their being ever exemplified in any institutions of
real life, but in extreme contrast with the existing selfish¬
ness of human society, and as theoretic developments of
the unchangeable idea of good. Such, for example, is his
theory of a community of wives and children, and the train¬
ing of women to the hardiest exercises of the gymnasium
and of wTar. We justly take exception at the immorality
and unnaturalness of such hypotheses. But Plato looks
down upon man from the height of his sublime theory. He
sees everything in the unity and invariableness of that
theory, and overlooks distinctions deeply founded in the
nature of man. Thus it is that in his view man himself
becomes a thing of little consideration or importance,—a
sort of plaything of the Deity, Seou n naiyviov, scarcely worth
any serious attention. “ You disparage altogether the race
of man,” says an interlocutor in the Dialogue of the Laws.
“ Wonder not at it,” replies the Athenian ; “ but make al¬
lowance for me ; for it was from looking off to the Deity,
and under this impression, that I said what I have now ex¬
pressed. Ilowever, let it be granted that our race is not
insignificant, if you like, but worth some serious considera¬
tion.”0 It is in this spirit that he himself sports with hu¬
man nature, as if human beings were only so many chess¬
men, to be moved on the board, so as to display the admi¬
rable design of the disposing mind, and illustrate the work¬
ing ot the eternal Ideas. His fault is the same as in his phy¬
sical speculations, that of commencing from the final cause,
or the notion of the Best, and forming the world of social
life after that, instead of rising from the study of its actual
formation to the notion of the Best;—or at least in sup- Plato’s
posing, that he could arrive at a just view of the divine Writings
pattern of Good, by presenting a theoretic copy of it, after and P^1110-
his own conceptions of the Best. But such extravagancies. S°^Zj .
as those we have referred to, could only have proceeded
from so bold a mind as that of Plato,—a mind, not checked
by the repulsiveness of particular consequences from push¬
ing a theory to the utmost.
At the same time, this fundamental notion of the Divine
standard and pattern on which he proceeds, imparts a so¬
lemn dignity, in the midst of these excesses of the spirit of
theory, to the substance of his speculations on government
and laws.
Religion is thus secured as the basis of all right govern¬
ment and legislation. That government only which most
resembles a theocracy is, in Plato’s view, a true polity. All
others, popularly termed governments, as democracy, oli¬
garchy, aristocracy, monarchy, are merely settlements ot
cities, and not Polities? being called after that power which
has the ascendancy in each over the other parts of the state.
So far as a state is truly such, it ought to be named, he says,
after the true God, the lord over all intelligent beings. Go¬
vernments, as they exist, are only the results of the strug¬
gles of contending factions: whence we find, as he observes,
one party in the ascendancy excluding and depressing ano¬
ther, in order to its own maintenance, and no concern taken
for the welfare of the whole community. To remedy this
general evil of existing governments, he would have the
simple and straightforward course of the divine procedure
brought before the minds of men, and a conformity with
that procedure inculcated on them as the only rule of life
and happiness. “ God,” he teaches, in an animated and
noble passage,8 “ as the ancient story is, holding the begin¬
ning, and end, and middle of all things that are, describes
a straight line, according to nature, as he walks his circuit.9
In his train ever follows Justice, the avenger of those that
are left behind by the divine law; to which, he that would
be happy, keeping close, follows in the train, humble and
orderly; but whoever is puffed up with high boasting, or
elated with wealth, or honours, or grace of person, toge¬
ther with youthfulness and folly,—his soul burning with in¬
solence, as presuming, that he requires neither ruler nor
any guide, but is competent even to be a guide to others,—
is left, forsaken of God. And being left, and taking to
himself others besides, such as he is, he frolics, throwing
everything into promiscuous confusion. And to many he
seems to be some one ; but, after no long time, undergoing
a retribution, of which he cannot complain, to Justice, he
utterly subverts himself, and his house, and his city.”10
Here we have emphatically recognized the great truth,
that the foundations of all government and law are laid in
the unchanging nature of the Divine Being. The law of
right, as exemplified in the dominion of party, is the law
of the strongest, fluctuating with the accidents of power,
and never attaining to any permanent being. Such was
the law of right, as taught by the Sophists, from city to
city, and which was fully established in public opinion
throughout Greece,—not only as manifested in the factious
character of the particular governments, but avowedly de¬
clared and acted on as a principle of conduct. “ It is no¬
thing,” say Athenian ambassadors, “ out of the course of the
established opinion of men concerning the Divine Being, or
I LeSihu,'>}*; P-H. _ a Ibid. 3 lhid, p. 12.
car a. ouv nfuv n -roXirua %vve<rrtixt (upturn rou x.«.Wi<r>rov xai a^iirrou fiiou. {Ibid. vii. p. 880.) Tayra xa.Sa.tftp lau; tv pvSta, ravvi \tyo~
p 5 sup*/- 7s- PW a^ffra, utft^ yiyvoirp tv tfa.<ra.t; tfoXtai ytyvotro a.v (Ibid. viii. p. 423 )
8 xlr?v app’ ver- 4- 6 1)6 Legibus, vii. p. 353. 71Ud, iv. 17&
p 179.) 'rou 'poioutou rtiv tfokiv idti itfovopa.%t<rSa.i, <ro rou akriSous rou rat tout l^ovruv dtatfo^ovros Stou evopa. XtyttrSai. {ibid.
rooMo^vl^^llid1 1185T'11'17 InatliematiCal: ’A’*’”' vt *a' xa., ptou. ruv ovruv atfatruv iXut, iuSiiav tfipouvu xara. (futrit wi*.-
Ibid. ‘ ‘ P‘
811
PLATO.
Plato s their sentiments concerning themselves, that we expect or
andPhilo- ^°’ ^or we t^le Divine Nature, so far as we can
sophy. ju^Se °f it, and human nature, as we see clearly, by an in-
stinctive necessity, ever exercise power where they can ob¬
tain the mastery. Nor are we the first, either to propose
the law, or to use it when laid down : it was in being when
we took it up ; and it will subsist for ever, for us to trans¬
mit to others after us; and we merely act upon it; con¬
vinced, that yourselves, no less than others, were you placed
in the same power in which we are, would do so.”1 Here,
then, is the law which belongs to the region of instability,—.
to that nature which is ever becoming, and never is. Con¬
trast with this Plato’s principle, which deduces the origin
of law from the eternal idea of good, and it will then be
more distinctly seen what the spirit of Plato’s legislation
really is.
It follows, indeed, from his principle, that all instituted
law is imperfect.2 And he admits, accordingly, that if a per¬
fectly virtuous ruler could be established on earth, it would
be best that the business of government should be carried
on by his will; which would in such a case be only the
copy of the Divine exemplar of right. But as this is past
hope in the present condition of human things, the substi¬
tute for the more perfect system is the institution of laws
framed after the eternal Idea of Good; not laws adapted
merely to the preservation of a particular form of polity, but
embodying in them the immutable principles of right. And
even such laws, as being matters of institution, are inferior
in dignity to unwritten laws—the principles of right—which,
themselves resting on no external sanction, are yet the con¬
serving principles of all positive laws.
Having his eye fixed on the eternal pattern of the good
and the true, Plato looked with a feeling of disappointment
and disgust at the several forms of polity which the states
of Greece exhibited. He is generally thought to have in¬
clined to a preference of aristocracy, and to have regarded
with aversion all popular government. But though it is
probable, that, from what he saw of the tyranny of an unre¬
strained democracy, he sighed in secret for a better order of
things, we cannot conclude from his political speculations
that he regarded any single polity as the best. He, in fact,
condemns all particular forms ;3 and when he asserts a pre¬
ference, it is for a polity such as was nowhere seen in his
times, combining in it monarchy, aristocracy, and demo¬
cracy.4 But in his view, as governments then existed, they
were all one-sided ; the dominion of one part of a commu¬
nity over the rest, and not the dominion of good over the
whole. This dominion, as we have observed, was only to
be found in the government of God over the world, and to
it, therefore, he would have all human government con¬
formed. His sole preference, then, is for a theocracy, if such
could be realized on earth. His slighting manner of speak¬
ing of the lower orders of society, and of all indeed but
those who are gifted with superior talents and other natural
endowments, is to be ascribed to his general low estimate
of human nature, considered apart from that cultivation,
which the highest and most intellectual studies impart to it.
Respect for antiquity and prescriptive authority is strong¬
ly inculcated by Plato. In nothing was the changeable¬
ness of all generated things more evident than in the ever-
varying forms of the states of Greece, and especially of
Athens itself. The democracy of Athens had been an uni¬
versal market, wavroirwX/oy, as Plato terms an extreme de¬
mocracy, of all sorts of politics.5 And laws had so far lost their
force there in the most corrupt times, that everything was
transacted by the decrees of the day; the variable determina¬
tions of popular assemblies being substituted practically in the Plato’s
pkce of standing Laws, the records of former experience and Writings
wisdom. Early legislators had devised expedients for coun- ancl PhUo-
teracting this love of change on the part of their country- S0Phy-
men, as Solon, for instance, and Lycurgus had clone. And
in some instances, we find a temporary and partial expedient
adopted, by the popular assembly itself fixing the penalty
of death to the proposal of rescinding a measure before a
certain period.6 Plato’s expedient was supplied by the prin¬
ciple itself of his philosophy. If the Idea of Good was eter¬
nal and unchangeable, the constant pursuit of change must
lead men astray from their happiness and the truth. They
must be called back, therefore, from that which is present
and passing, to the recollection of the past. They must not
look on wisdom as a thing which is different to-day from
what it was yesterday, or in former times, but hold it as
what by its very nature is unalterable. To regard it as
susceptible of improvement in the lapse of time, would be
to deny its proper Being, to reduce it to the condition of
mere Becoming. A distrust in the wisdom of any existing
generation of men, and a sacred reverence for that of for¬
mer generations, and especially for the earliest traditions of
knowledge, would naturally be inculcated in such a philo¬
sophy. Thus he highly commends the Lacedemonian and
Cretan polities for the provision, that no young man should
inquire whether the laws were good or bad, but that “ all
should with one voice and with one mouth agree in declar¬
ing that everything in them is well appointed, as being
by the appointment of gods and that no other sentiment
should be allowed to be expressed. Further, not even does
he permit a young person to be present when such matters
are considered by the old.7 In the same spirit, the Egyptian
immutability in the arts for thousands of years, is admired,
as a proof of admirable legislative and political wisdom.8
Even in regard to the fine arts, and to sports and amuse¬
ments, he reprobates the tendency to innovation, as dan¬
gerous to the serious institutions of a state, on the ground,
that changes in these lighter matters “ imperceptibly change
the manners of the young, and bring what is primitive into
disrepute, and what is modern into reputeand that there
cannot be a greater mischief to states than such a habit of
“ blaming antiquity.”9
All this, which under certain limitations may be true, ap¬
pears, when thus broadly laid down by Plato, a misapplica¬
tion of the proper sanction of religious truth to truth in ge¬
neral. In religion, the only question being what is really
taught by its Divine author, there can be no addition made
in the course of time to the truths revealed, except by an¬
other divine revelation, though there may be advancement
in the exposition and teaching of it. What is primitive and
ancient, accordingly, in this subject, once fully ascertained
to be so, is the truth, and the whole truth. Only we must
not mistake antiquity of exposition and comment, for pri¬
mitiveness of the truth itself; for these admit of improved
knowledge by human study, when the original truth itself
does not. The contest between the advocates of the re¬
spective claims of the past and of the present, in the matter
of knowledge, is doubtless much older than the time of Plato.
But his authority and eloquence have probably been mainly
instrumental in starting and sustaining the controversy in
modern times, through the early reception of his philosophy
into the literature of the Christian church.
But we may further see a reason for the stress which
Plato lays on the wisdom of prescription and authority, in
that state of public opinion to which he is addressing him¬
self. It was not, as might be supposed, a state of things
1 Thucyd. v. 105.
3 ’AAAa tjjv •rgticrtizouirav uvr>j r;va
* De Leg. iii. pp. 137, 138/
4 Rep. viii.
2 'On vop-os ovx av tfon. duvairo ro rs a^itrroi xai to ^ixtuorarov, %. r. A. (Polit. p 82 )
tZv vvv Xiym oroXiTiiZv ou S’ ^vr;va«t/v horov, x. r- X- (Rep. vi. p. 96.)
6 Thucyd. ii. 24. 8 De ii. p. 67.
7 De Legibui, i. 24, 25. 9 Ibid. vii. pp. 338, 33a
PLATO.
812
Plato’s corresponding exactly to a demand for religious or civil
Writings changes, in our days, under established governments anc
and Philo- institutions. The question of change is now gravely dis-
. _sop y‘ - cussed, and deliberately carried or rejected, not with the
view of unsettling everything, but in order that some par-
ticular institution or law may be established fox the futme.
Except in violent outbreaks of human passions long pent
up within artificial restraints, exasperated by resistance, and
at length forcing their way out, and levelling all barriers
before°them, as in the instance of the great French Revo¬
lution, it cannot be said with truth, of tne struggles for par¬
ticular changes in modern institutions, that they have been
actuated by the mere desire of change, and the hatred of
everything established. The religion and the civilization
of modern times have in some measure presented a check to
this. But at the centre of movement in Greece, change was
the order of the day. Athens would neither rest itself, nor
suffer other states to rest. When its very demagogues are
forced on some occasions to endeavour to repress this inces¬
sant changeableness ; as Cleon was, when he told the Athe¬
nians it was better “ to have worse laws unmoved, than good
laws perpetually changed f’1—it is evident that the spirit of
change was then developed in its most fearful form. For
we find the magician himself who had evoked it, starting in
terror at the apparition, and finding it too strong for his di¬
rection and control. AouXo/ omg rojv an arovwv, virigwerc'i
di ruv hu^oruv, “ Slaves of every new extravagance, but de-
spisers of accustomed things,”2 are the words with which
he attempts to exorcise it, and which the historian of the
times puts into the mouth of one who, as the creature of
the system, could most pointedly characterize it. Such
was that spirit, then, against which Plato had to contend.
It was an enemy not only to the existing government, but
to all government, and all law, and all religion and mora¬
lity. It demanded, therefore, the most forcible counter¬
action. It was to be met by inculcation of the opposite.
According to his own universal principle, contrary was to
be expelled by contrary. Everything that was ancient
was to be upheld, accordingly, as worthy of veneration and
acceptance, simply because it was ancient. The voice it¬
self of antiquity, though speaking without evidence, was
to be received with implicit acquiescence and submission.
Thus it is that Plato is found strenuously appealing to the
instinctive feeling of his Athenian countrymen, which they
still retained in spite of the prevailing folly,—the feeling
with which they so fondly reverted to their early glories,
and delighted to view themselves in the past;—and labour¬
ing to correct their vacillations of present opinion by recal¬
ling them to the fixed lessons of their memory.
Political philosophy, then, according to Plato, is the his¬
tory of those changes which the will of man produces in
the matter of government and laws, and an endeavour to
limit those changes by restoring in the social world the
primitive order and rule.
Education is the means by which those changes are
counteracted. It avails itself of that principle of contra¬
riety by which all changes are carried on; and endeavours
to expel the evil by inducing the good. The process by
which it carries on this effect is, a discipline of the intel¬
lect, prescribed by the state, and promoted by all its insti¬
tutions and customs, framed, as these are supposed to be,
after the idea of the Sovereign Good. That discipline lays
down a course of exercise for the body as well as for the
intellect, that the body may be brought into the best con¬
dition, in order to the exercise of the intellect. The intel¬
lect itself it conducts through the steps of the several scien- Plato’s
ces, from the bodily and sensible to the unembodied and Writings
intellectual,—from the phenomenal and changeable to that and
which has real being, and is unchangeable. And thus v P y’
in Plato’s system it is classed under the two comprehensive
heads of Gymnastics and Music ; the latter term being un¬
derstood, according to its derivation, to denote literature in
general. Philosophy itself was the ultimate attainment of
education,—the result of the whole intellectual training
of the accomplished man. Ostensibly, under this system,
there was no peculiar discipline of the heart. Indirectly
there was ; so far as it inculcated purification and self-de¬
nial. But the strengthening and elevating of the intellect
was its direct object. Its tendency was thus to exalt the
virtues of the intellect above those of the heart; and, in
opposition to the evidence of facts, to assert the power of
knowledge over the determinations of the will. Not that
Plato denies the existence of what we call self-command,
or that controlling of the passions which is the result of a
previous struggle with them. But he did not admit (as
Aristotle does, and urges against him3) that reason could
ever be overpowered by the passions, or that if there were
a distinct knowledge of the truth in the mind, it could give
way to passion.
In the matter of Religion, Plato’s theory of Ideas led him
to see that there were truths above the evidence belonging
to Experience, and which must be received solely on the
ground of the Divine authority. For whilst he taught that
the mind of man must work its way up to the Ideas by a
course of argument and examination of evidence, yet, hav¬
ing reached the Ideas themselves, it had attained the ulti¬
matum of truth ; no further evidence of these was to be
sought; they carried their own light in themselves. So,
when any truth was presented to the mind, which related
immediately to the Divine Being, it was not to be sup¬
posed capable of being examined in itself, and established
on any higher ground of internal evidence, but must at
once be admitted, if there w ere sufficient external authority
for it. The only question respecting such truths is, are
they historically true ? Is it certain, or at least highly proba¬
ble, that they have descended to us from the Father of Lights
himself? Have we reason to think that they were original¬
ly real divine communications,—and are they vouched to us
as such by a competent evidence ?4 Now, in regard to the
primary principles of the mind, such as we have before
spoken of, though they are not evidenced by any higher
principles, or by any conclusions from Experience, they
carry their own evidence, by their invariable presence in
the mind on certain occasions, being naturally suggested by
such occasions to every rational understanding. But the
truths of religion are of a different nature. They cannot
be authenticated by the mind itself to itself, as being out of
its range of thought. They must therefore be authenticated
from without. And in regard to these, accordingly, w e
must appeal to the Reason and Word of God, as the sim¬
ple, and proper, and unanswerable vouchers of them.
This is the account of Plato’s disclaimer of all evidence,
either of demonstration or probability, on matters strictly
divine, and his frequent appeal to mythic traditions when
his discussion touches a mystery of the Divine Being or the
Divine conduct. Fie resolves the whole authority of such
matters into the evidence of “ ancient story,” vaXaiog Xojog,5—
and “ primitive hearing,” ag^a/a axo>j,—and “learning hoary
with time,” fxa^riya xgovu toX/ov.6 In speaking of the genera¬
tion of the subordinate divinities, in the Timceus, he makes
1 rhucyd. iii. 37. 2 IMd c 38
npmv'h -■ Aristotle, though controverting the extreme view of the doctrine of Plato on this point, in the result
nearly coincides with him. Ibid. c. 3. ‘
vr<>^a‘ tirrov™, ariet B-ar xat Tn; rou vravro; <yivctnw;} 'huvaroi yiy\iuu.iBa Tavro xavru; au tov; uvrovs uvroi; ou.oXeyot>-
* I s Xoyous uT'dovva,, M Bavpaont, *. r. X. (Timceus, p. 304.)
..*<3-S£ c. 'rcis.ouoi Ti xrzi ff0Q0i Kiyowjir it iftoios iuotti. (Gorging, p. 137-) 6 TimctUS, p. 291.
PLATO.
813
Plato’s an observation applicable to the whole subject of divine things
andPhifo aS treatec^ Instead of entering into explicit accounts
sophy. ” tltein, he observes that the subject is “ too great for us,
and that we must believe those who have spoken before,
being the offspring of gods, in the way in which they said
it, and because they must be conceived to have known their
own ancestorsadding, that we cannot refuse credit to the
“ sons of gods, although they speak without probabilities
and necessary demonstrations, but must follow the rule of
believing them on their word, as declaring what belongs to
them.”1 He commends, too, the primitive generation of
men for their docility in following rules of life founded on
oral tradition,—their “ holding as true what was said ra Xi-
youtvct, concerning both gods and men.”2 Again, speaking of
the state of the dead, and their interest in the concerns of
men on earth, he appeals to the same kind of evidence.
“We must believe,” he says, “ the voices of others in such
matters, so current as they are, and so extremely ancient;
and it is enough for our belief that legislators, unless they
be proved absolutely unwise, have asserted them.”3 So just¬
ly does he insist on the reasonableness of being content
with the voice of a declaratory authority in matters incap¬
able, by their nature, of a direct evidence from our reason.
By the heathen philosopher, in the absence of an authen¬
tic revelation, the authority for such truths was naturally
sought in ancient traditions,—traditions mounting up be¬
yond all memory of their origin, and therefore referable to
times when the world was yet fresh from the hand of God.
The voice of remote and undefined antiquity, indeed, by a
natural delusion, represents itself to the mind as but little
different from the sanction of eternal truth. For it is but
a slight and imperceptible transition from the indefinite to
the infinite. Many such traditions were found in the hea¬
then mythology, connecting themselves with another order
of things, when gods conversed with men on earth. Some
of them, certainly, were full of absurdity and profaneness ;
and all were disfigured with the colouriftg of fable; but still
there were some, beautiful in the conception, and sublime
and impressive in the doctrine. Of this latter character,
for the most part, are those exquisite mythical legends, with
which Plato has diversified his discussions, throwing the
solemnity of religion over truths of high importance which
he would specially enforce.
Thus, though he has elaborately argued the Immortality
of the soul, he is not content to leave the question on those
abstract grounds of conviction. He feels that the convic¬
tion which may practically influence the conduct, must be
drawn from another source,—that of a simple belief in some
authority declaring it,—when he closes the discussion, as in
the Phcedo, and in other places, with a scenic representa¬
tion, from the legends of ancient tradition, of the doctrines
which he has been enforcing. The whole of the Ttmceus,
in fact, is a legend rather than a philosophical inquiry. It
appeals, for the reception of its truths, to the shadows with
which it veils them, and the mystic echoes of sounds heard by
the listening ear from afar. In that legend, indeed, we have
very considerable evidence of the pure source, from which
the heathen world drew much of the sacred truth that was
wrapped up and disfigured in their fables. We perceive in
such a document of ancient philosophy, at once the sure and
wide-spread knowledge resulting from a scriptural Revela¬
tion, and the obscurity and fallibility of the information of
Tradition. To this effect are the description in the Timceus,
of the universe as the “ one” work of the “ one Supreme
Being, —as the “ visible likeness of one himself the ob- Plato’s
ject only of intellectual apprehension,”—as the “ only-gene- Writings
rated,” ^owiyfMjs, of the Father of all things; and the strong and Phil°'
assertion of the goodness, and beauty, and perfection of the sophy‘ ^
universe; and particularly, in reference to this, that strik- " ” v
ing passage, “ When the Father who generated it, per¬
ceived, both living and moving, the generated glory of the
Everlasting Divinities, he was filled with admiration, and,
being delighted, he further contemplated the working it
still more to a resemblance of the pattern.”4 Add to these
instances the simple and magnificent words which he has
put into the mouth of the Father of the Universe, as an ad¬
dress to the generated gods, respecting the formation of
the bodies of men and other living creatures.6 The attri¬
buting to Him a speech at the first formation of man, is
alone sufficiently remarkable; and the plural address with
which it opens, makes the correspondence still closer to
the sacred words, “ And God said, Let us make man in our
image, after our likeness.n The order of the generation of
things, it may be further observed, agrees with the order
of the Creation, hirst the heavens and the earth are pro¬
duced, and then the living creatures; and among these
Man, designated as “ the most religious of animals.”6 But
at the same time there is much confusion and degradation
of the high subject. We look in vain for those sublime
features of the inspired account, that the Creation arose out
of nothing, by the word of God. This is darkly intimated
in the shadowy nature which the narrative assigns to Body ;
but, though it be but a shadow, Body still subsists in his
system, as the co-eternal contrary of the Divine Intelligence.
Traces of the descent of holy truth, in the like disguise, ap¬
pear in the references found in Plato to early deluges and
genealogies ;7 to the notion of God as the shepherd of his
people ;a and to accounts of variations in the course of the
rising and setting of the sun.9
Such, then, is the character of Plato’s philosophy, both in
its general method, and in its results, as a theory of the uni¬
verse, and an information respecting the leading branches
of human knowledge.
It was concerned, we find, more in investigating and
establishing first principles, than in drawing out results;
in exciting the love of wisdom, rather than in aiding in the
research after it. With him, indeed, philosophy and its
method of inquiry, as we have seen, are one; and, in like
manner, philosophy and its several branches coalesce in his
system into one. We have spoken of his logical, and phy¬
sical, and ethical doctrines, as if they were distinct subjects;
but in his mind the one theory of Ideas held these several
doctrines in its embrace, and made them indissolubly one with
itself. For his design throughout is, to establish universal
principles common to every subject, and on these to build a
structure of philosophy,—a counterpart in the human mind
to the universe itself, and comprehending therefore all that
relates to the Deity, to man, and to the universe. He would
place the mind of the philosopher far above the scenes in
which man lives, and endue him with a keenness and range
of vision, extending over the whole region of speculation, and
leaving no part, either from its largeness or from its minute¬
ness, unexplored. The problem which he undertakes to
solve is, how all things are both one and many; how, amidst
the multiplicity of phenomena with which we are surround¬
ed, a real unity still subsists and pervades the whole. He
proceeds on the conviction, that to attain to this unity,
so far at least as our faculties will enable us to attain to it
1 Timixus, p. 324. i Be i eg. iii. p. 111. 3 Be Leg. xi. 150.
4 Xlf £s KninZhv ts auTo xui ivzvoturi Tut cctbiut Ssuv yeyova; uya.Xfjt.oL o ytvvfitrus oruTV(>, riyutrB>i rt, xai In fiuXXtv ofieiot woot are
•xuouhuypu. iz-evcwrsv UTi^yatrua^ai. [Ibid. pp. 316, 317.)
5 9-iuv uv iyu $'/)fuougyos, Tarna rz ioyuv, x. r. X. [Ibid. p. 325.)
s Zuot TO SioaiSzaTUTo*. [Ibid. p. 326.)' 7 Polif. p. 290 ; De Leg. i.
* 0£<j? tvef&tv ecvroi/? aura; KTiirrarcwy* vvv avS-oewoi, £wov ov Itspov 3-?/or£gov, olWcl tycLvXiTSoct. ocvrwv vofjLivovai, (Polit, p. 35.)
9 Polit. p. 28. The same are evidently referred to by Herodotus in Euterpe, 142.
#
PLATO.
814
Pinto’s (for in itself it is incomprehensible and ineffable), is to find
Writings t]ie clue to that maze of sensible things which bewilders
and Philo- human observati0n. He was not intent, therefore, on distm-
. sophy- . miishinp and arranging the several branches of knowledge,
but on bringing all into subjection to his commanding theory
of the perfect unity. He has not, in fact, elaborated, 01
even sketched, any one particular science. He has shewn
how the sciences may be distributed, or rather furnished
hints for such a distribution. But he has left the task oi
doing so to others after him, as subordinate agents, filling up
the details and supplying the omissions of his system. His
was characteristically a one-making mind. It analysed,—
not, however, for the purpose of finding and arranging the
component elements of a subject, but in search of the one
vivifying principle, which gives form, and truth, and good¬
ness, and beauty, to everything. He omits, accordingly, to
examine with minuteness into secondary agencies, which are
the proper study of the particular sciences, in order that he
may direct attention to the master-principle, by which all
subordinate principles are held together, and by which they
work as concurring causes in the infinite variety of actual
phenomena with such energy and constancy of operation.1
It was left for his pupil Aristotle to take up the business
of philosophy where he had designedly left it unfinished,
and, by a more rigorous method, to introduce order into the
field of science, by assigning to each particular science its
distinct objects and office.
It required, indeed, some philosopher worthy of such a
master to take up the subject where Plato had left it, and
to carry it out to the fulness of an instructive method, and
a systematic exposition of truth ; and such a successor was
found in Aristotle. Aristotle, as controverting the Theory
of Ideas, may perhaps be regarded by some as an antagonist,
rather than a successor, to Plato. But every succeeding
system of philosophy is partly a polemic against its prede¬
cessor, by whose labours it nevertheless has profited. So
it wras with the great movement of mind commenced by
Plato. It languished under Speusippus and Xenocrates,
and the still more remote successors in the Academia. But
in the Lyceum, the rival school in name, but the rival only
as the vigorous offspring of the declining parent, a crowd
of hearers such as that whom the great magician of the
Academia had called around him, was once more assembled,
and Athens again assumed the form of an university. In
Aristotle’s system, accordingly, we see the productiveness
of those germs of philosophy which the genius of Plato had
planted and reared. Others cultivated the germs them¬
selves; and some fostered them into a wild luxuriance. It was
by being engrafted on the sturdy stock of Aristotle’s mind,
that they received fresh vigour, and produced fruits, though
not strictly their own, yet partaking of their life and richness.2
If we take Plato’s philosophy as a whole in its complex
form, not simply as a system of philosophy, but a system in
which philosophy, and eloquence, and poetry, and deep
religious and moral feeling, are harmoniously combined, it
stands alone in the history of literature. There is nothing
which approaches to it under this point of view, nothing
which may be properly regarded as a continuation of it. It
is a splendid work of rare genius, like the Homeric poems
or the Minerva of Phidias, which no other artist has ever
equalled. Philosophical dialogues have been written in
imitation of those of Plato ; but how unlike to them, how
altogether inferior to them in conception and execution !
There is learning, and eloquence, and grace, in whatever
the accomplished mind of Cicero has touched. But com¬
pare his most finished specimens in this way with the Dia¬
logues of Plato, and what a deficiency appears! Dignity
and refinement of mind, and an acquaintance with the stores Plato’s
of philosophy, shine forth in the Dialogues of Cicero. But Wntings
we miss altogether the depth and the exquisiteness ofan 10"
thought, the range and the minuteness of vision, the exact- v  ^
ness of reasoning, the lively sketches of character and man¬
ners, which interest and astonish us by their combination
in the Dialogues of Plato. Xenophon had great knowledge
of human nature, and has thrown an air of great natural¬
ness over his simple descriptions, whether it is conversations
and moral lessons that he relates, or stirring scenes of his¬
tory. But his Socratic dialogues do not admit of comparison
with the elaborate efforts of Plato. They were clearly in¬
tended only as accounts of what Socrates had taught, and
did not aim at any artist-like efiect, as compositions. Or, if
we turn to the Symposium of Plutarch, there, again, much as
the author admired and studied Plato, we observe an entire
want of that tact in the management of the dialogue, which
so engages our attention amidst the subtilties of Plato’s
discussions. If we compare, again, the imitations of Plato
in the Dialogues of Berkeley and Shaftesbury, we find the
like contrast as in those of Cicero. Superior as these are
in composition to other efforts of the kind in our language,
they still give no proper representation of the spirit or the
form of the Platonic Dialogue. There is no life in the in¬
terlocutors of these Dialogues; and the author himself is
scarcely concealed behind their masks. Nor are there any
touches of natural feeling or incident to connect the argu¬
ment with the personality of the speakers ; such as those in
the Phcedo, where the discussion opens with the loosing of
the chains from the limbs of Socrates, his bending and rub¬
bing his leg, and expressing the pleasure arising from the
contrast of his pain before; circumstances, not merely thrown
in by way of dramatic interest, but leading, in immediate
application, to the argument in hand. As we have said,
then, the philosophy of Plato taken in connection with the
admirable compositions in which it is contained, stands alone
in the history of literature. It is due to the charm of the
composition, that the interest of the reader is sustained
amidst much of dry abstract speculation, requiring the
closest attention, and considerable acquaintance with the
subjects of philosophical discussion, in order to follow it. It
was this charm in great measure, doubtless, which rendered
the writings of Plato, in spite of their abstruseness and sub-
tilty in many parts, so acceptable to Grecian taste. He had
his critics also and censors; but all seem to have concur¬
red in placing him at the head of the philosophical writers
of Greece. Objection was taken by some to the severity
of his sarcasm against the leading Sophists and other great
names. Complaint, too, was made of his putting sentiments
and words into the mouth of Socrates which Socrates had
never used ; and of his anachronisms, in bringing together
in conversation, persons, who, from the period at which they
flourished, could never have met. But these were merely
minute criticisms. It was seen by those who entered into
the spirit of his writings, that he was still the great master
throughout,—that he was not giving, in his Dialogues, a
history of individuals or of the times, but a general charac¬
ter of classes of men, and the prevailing tone, both of phi
losophical discussion and of popular opinion. The en¬
lightened critic saw that Socrates, for example, is not pour-
trayed by him simply as Socrates, but as the characteristic
spokesman of the system on which he is engaged ;—and in
like manner, that when he brings together persons of dif¬
ferent periods, he overlooks the anachronism, that he may
enunciate the doctrines inquired into, in their proper person.
The perfection to which he wrought the style of his
most elaborate Dialogues, will be apparent to those who
T«i/t ovv ncti/T if, tjuv ol; 9-los ^^UTaei, TJjy tou a^urrov Kara, ro duvocrav iSsasy aTarsXiwy. [Tim. p. 336.) The genesis of
the universe is from the union of mu; and avayKn, and the dominion of tau; over avayxn causes avayx* to brine; ran y/yvauevuv r* ■xXxta'tit
t» /SiA-Tivay. [Tim. p. 339.)
Dionysius of Halicarnassus speaks justly of Aristotle, as l yyirriuTxro; uirou fiaSrim;. [Ej>. ad Cn. Pomp.)
\
—-
PLATO.
Plato, study them accurately under this point of view. So fas-
tidious, indeed, is the taste with which they have been
wrought into their present form, that it cannot be duly ap¬
preciated without an accurate and even delicate observa¬
tion. Every word seems chosen with care, and every clause
of his periods made to flow with its proper rhythm; and
this effect at the same time is produced out of the ordinary
materials of the language. The words and idioms are those
of conversation, and the way in which they are put together
seems, at the first view, to be as unstudied as mere conver¬
sation. But the result is an exquisite composition, in re¬
gard to which we are at a loss to pronounce whether the
depth and the elegance of the thought, or the grace and
propriety of expression, most prevail.1 It is quite evident
that he was not the first to compose Dialogues, were we to
look simply to the finished form in which his Dialogues
have been executed. They are doubtless not the first
efforts in that way. But the school of Elea had preceded
him in this style. More particularly, however, we are told
that Alcamenus of Teos was the first to write Dialogues ;
or at least his is the earliest name to which, on the testi¬
mony of Aristotle, in a work now lost, the honour of origin¬
ating the Dialogue has been assigned. But we need look
no further than to the Greek drama for the first thought of
the Platonic Dialogue. The Mimes of Sophron, and the
Comedies of Epicharmus, probably furnished materials from
which he was enabled, if not to mould, at least to enrich his
Dialogues. The Mimes of Sophron, indeed, it is said, found
a place under his pillow.2 And what are the Protagoras,
the Gorgias, and the Symposium, it may be asked—the
particular Dialogues in which he has most fully displayed
his dramatic power—but philosophical comedies in prose,
analogous to the Clouds of Aristophanes, and only differing
from that play, as addressed to a higher class of hearers,
and as intended, not to call forth the applause of spectators,
but to elicit thought from a reader.
Nor, in touching upon the peculiar excellences of Plato’s
Dialogues, ought we to omit to notice especially, under this
point of view, the delightful mythic narratives with which
he has adorned and relieved his abstract discussions. The
art with which he has introduced them is most admirable.
They are openings of rich scenery suddenly presented to
the view when least expected;—tales of an Arabian night
succeeding to a morning’s pastime of disputation in some
school of Greece;—solemn shadows from an unseen world
casting their majestic forms over some ordinary incident of
daily life. But they are not to be regarded only as embel¬
lishments and reliefs to the argument. They bear an im¬
portant part in the teaching itself of his philosophy. They
soften down the outline of his reasonings,—taking from
them that positive didactic form in which they might ap¬
pear amidst the strife of debate, and as wrought out by
discussion. The knowledge which his theory aims at im¬
parting is that of Reminiscence, as we nave snown; and
he would not, accordingly, have the results of his inquiry
present themselves as anything else but Reminiscence. We
are, indeed, to search out the reason of things. We are
not to rest in mere opinion, but to battle our way against
error and falsehood, until we rise to the eternal lueus, the
causes of all knowledge, as they are the causes of all Being.
Still, we are not to suppose that we can distinctly compre¬
hend the eternal Ideas in themselves. Though they are at
last intellectually discerned, it is only “ at the last,” and
that “scarcely.”3 For they carry up the eye of the soul to
the fountain of all knowledge,—the Divine Being himself,
who cannot be conceived, much less defined in words.4
I he mythic legends admirably combine with the refutative
form of the discussions to leave this impression of indefi¬
niteness on the mind. Whilst the mind’s eye is directed
steadily to the objects which can alone give stability and
certainty to its knowledge, we are thus throughout reminded
by Plato that we live amidst shadows and darkness, and that
our eye must be purified and endued with heavenly light
before it can look undazzled on the truth itself.'
The first edition of Plato’s works was that published by
Aldus at Venice, a.d. 1513. The next edition was that
published at Basle, by J. Oporinus, in 1534. An edition
was superintended by Marcus Hopperus, who corrected
several errors of that formerly published at Basle. The text
of H. Stephanus, in 3 vols., 1578, does not require many
words to describe it. The Bipont edition (11 vols. 8vo,
1781-1786) contains a reprint of Stephanus, with the Latin
version of Marsilius P icinus. It was owing to Immanuel
Bekker that the text of Plato was first brought into a satis¬
factory condition in 1816—18. It was accompanied by the
Latin version of Ficinus, a critical commentary, an exten¬
sive comparison of various readings, and the Greek Scholia,
with copious indices. The dialogues are arranged accord¬
ing to the scheme of Schleiermacher. The reprint of
Bekker, London, 1826, by Priestley, is a useful edition.
Ast’s 9 vol. edition of Plato, Leips. 1819-27, contains
many emendations of the text. G. Stallbaum gave to the
world an 8 vol. edition of Plato in Leipsic, 1821-25; and
commenced an elaborate edition in 1827, which is perhaps
the best and most useful which has appeared. The text of
Baiter, Orelli, and Winckelmann (1 vol. quarto, Zurich,
1839), deserves especial mention.
The translations of separate Dialogues are almost endless.
There is no good Latin translation but that of P'icinus.
Of the English ones, that of Taylor is by no means accu¬
rate. V. Cousin’s edition, in French, is careful and ela¬
borate. Schleiermacher’s edition, so far as it goes, is
unquestionably the best. There is an Italian translation
by Bembo. Bohn has published an edition in 6 vols.,
executed by various hands,—the best in the English lan¬
guage. (r. d. h.)
815
Plato.
l rlhe fastidiousness of taste with which he touched his compositions is illustrated by the account of the opening of the Republic
having been found with the clauses variously transposed. Dionys. Hal. De Comp. Pub. 25.
Diog. Laert. in Vit. 3 Ev tm yvaaru rtkivraiK ft mu nyaSou fiiu. xcti noyi; SrKcrSoti. (Rep. vii., p. 133.) 1 Tim., p. 303.
END OF VOLUME XVII.
4
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Pouit of- Chimlxu-azo W whi.-h M M. Qonplatul, Montusar and Eumhaldt
r,imfd t/idrlustrum,/its, 2&?Jum‘, 1802.Bar Ol' MU (B'y ll'i 1)
I In,da • f
Eurkest paml (, / Corazan) rmched by M.M.Bounurr
and dr da (audajninr m 1738.
Uriah I of the Peak .•/ T<>y<le
7710
9252
■1626
15 12
lairn
OtttiP'’5'*'
7\.7,uic1i«i [>as,‘llu
istei
o r Li iiii t o f
^ v Escallonia rnyi tif l
M '^erwtCbei V ^ „
- -5^ ^ ‘ c
CohuneUa fV/nv
Piper Pams
. Cinchona. 1
f’*1' Wexmnanue.
Qaercus Granat. . ^[tav7ne^lriole^
^ Cilrosrna
(incbona Condaminea
of Sensitive* Mini os a
Grunnfta j>illquicnlaL°xelL>iSAehyi 0
Melostorna wi th lilne Flowers
Fran art a vcsccl
<?6.
ofjup^ Boccoma
Oxalis
Tr lea par tea
^“"■tneru,
Freziera nervosa
Hype,
Urtiiue
Frythraxylon J\
3081
Vayra. rcendea J' J V x
"'"^r^oiv of ArboreSe
^ from 400 to i.50c
Large Pepper Tre
Fuft/wrbuj eotwifblia Ft rami a
,  _ v -Vr
Chunaalhu -ibiS^ o ^
L'ts, Melast0TO&s ^
Ff'Umgn
y-^. Boerh ,i
TheCfc
xcrens ttypnum
StercuUa Joumefortiann OT}>-$terru
W////M
liyssus jitluiwm
Ediiburgli, Pui
Itbii
1
ymf
toy
VI, I
I'. !IR A Ai i DJI DL\ U I’O jHALjKyATjUilf AjBOTiK 'HIE LETlEiL DE ’TlflflF’ S
Coim I'!' Cotopaxi
 „t■ the Peak of OiizaSa
nti!,,U "r to -.hick Mate s.urooao „,e,:oJe,/ u, J7.S7.
.iskr
iDiitof
Tiiyitill
cii^r
iphona 1*
Urosma
nM Fas.
fiiuosa
*'sAfhyr hex
lervosa
Prtkn
n keuvi
oresee
> to
a
la ih wci
!wa
Pmstan
leohv
M
rtr . ., nyaULWO/alis
' ,
Paniatm Lobelia nana '■ e . Rfe
>.,■ ^ , A9p- -'R" 'V Ge^
n'inaQuit. '‘',..I.Lrava, ^7 ""<0
0 Sa.-<ifr^9a s. <A% PUmiago pyym
/' j. „ t)i>n,>thtyr'/t
Lkisnuumi Tu,,llaff„
«ra lla
’« %
<V A*'* ^ SiUa Pit-kind1 Conyza \
Limit of the last Arborescent Pbmtst-
U ^ 1
• Poiirrelia Oenijuiwi nu‘ ntv.vi ’
C ■
i ro>r *
'input Forleria hyqi'onietrix, t
c /L\en
\V
mx.
an d
, TUltMut
Mubsia cordata
Aft,
^^^dvvica ** y, r, ... ' ^s tenia .ContrayeJ'va
Gynnxupus jLscobedux Sab/up.
A
Biufinvillea.
Jjrxjcantimn
, Tifu'i"’®’ ' „m puch£rt Cvnandn1"1
itweM p ivaoriu^Jmo.®/ « . Vito
^UsaandA^Piat "bo 'R Paiuratiu
Swl,: 
with fir.
'/a tin m
Pul Led.try A. &C.Black.
v 'ty-r ffurteri A/WrtM ymndinom t
™A9U^'\?e'',JT'anj“- » 1>nranla|
CimAome^  Paboria.
\]M1U* ^ TV, , Ao/,
& Mawvnrarpus b'^ondr,, e?r .</&„/ '».<
, p) Spemuaeoce:^, .'^ ^u/an.,
.{juUeolu WuxPdm: r & Huh,., alp
Xertena .v° Salvor Sapefior limit of GreatTreesI
A/mM,'r CleanoM-S^ Lohl.juf. ■ Maratrum ftuvwt .\fr£
Lfydrocnnie ArbonescaitPassiflonz U.iutniUo aphano
nrgenwnoidv Oxaba edid,^ Tropteolum
ootanum ^ otyrwc
pijinatusp. Cop. ... . ‘
o^*0 (inctwna antlviLub Mat. Datura,
Bachs'0 Cuichana Cali soya Xyris
Morus escul.
prezwm rmo;,.. ^ ^ ^Unocad- ■ &
ia. Emmeria ° Poly-podium arbor. O'
,ea t-oaa-a ° ^ . o'
roJf. ™ tfr,°.yo e> .• .
, Cuichvna ovaHfl. ~ r- if,'',., ,
\ . ^Andromeda ^ __   
Cidyplectus Lfydtvlea trigyna Solarium "'^eury Moasrr . pv . i, . .
•y’ ^ JjLch&i Cirichoru^ ’ _^a1' JSoi'iintea. -t cLspafurrv Foveolaiia,
nena .j0»‘HuoUna Ly thrum cOiat . D°VSt^^ ^ ^.^jPassiflora, tarrierUosa Equisetum
CLssas Mrlnstvrna with larqellowers &*****« 'obhtyifplia.'Mut.*'**'-r,^ ,'n1''Pathos r ■P,9'Ua™*i
tivstiehlun ? Xantcma ^'"‘taaetm Unlmria™" ' /o
Calhearpa . iWwe , ' Solid,mo ■ A * Eolichos . if Ooton.
Jussieax, sedmde, Fmffariaaa. „ ^uftomn lot^^SI Eugenur Voyra. rosea. ^
SmiLv EueUiavipUrra, ^ jJUi1
Hydrobo>m Polygonum SisynMhium. ^
\ ^  ^ L-' .. ' flS
'<//?) Comocladia ' A-yy
.Daphne, rnrrid. Dmnthem Bauhinia , u •» , . , 10
.S’ . . . ’ rhibiaidia -ManetM1 Cuai/lariaJiothy Primus ocad,. Imdumu dissunilifinriM
9oO ‘ t Cmdiorm langifloraMut. ‘ , ' . . .• . Amlira Solatium
— -st-Mq. *->- ,  Oun/udw Mur. InteI'lor I.i tuil i.t i11c (ini tioiLif
   )    w '"'f  R=' 
' IG poll of Jiobtcrrjine.tji Plrtnts
Geb. Aikman, Sculp!